Chapter 7: Writ Large

I'd been here before. The closet. Except, I didn’t have to sleep, so it wasn’t astral traveling, so I could keep my clothes on. But Mrs. Scarlett Humphrey insisted: I was to lock the door on the inside, so I could be as at peace as possible.

But it still felt so familiar: this was the same as the other ritual. Something in the environment, drowning out the … oh.

Elsie’s aura.

I wasn’t in the closet anymore. That had been seamless.

“If you could just bring me here, then why the peyote?” I thought.

"It's for the pig," came Elsie's explanation. "We have to match states. Awake, he won't know how to let us in, and he won't willingly stay asleep, either, so I gave him peyote. That way, we can meet as equals. This is more polite."

“That's it? You gave me drugs so I could be more polite to my pig?”

"He's not your pig yet," she said calmly.

“Wait a minute. Is this why you weren't worried? I asked her.”

"Worried about what?"

“I don't know, my soul attacking you or something.”

"Kid," she said, "with the greatest respect, what your teacher knows about animancy, I could fit in a Jehovah's Witness pamphlet. You're going to be fine. I don't teach her about sex ed—and I could do it, too—and she doesn't teach me about animancy. And if I have my way, she won’t teach you, either."

Okay. “Crystal clear,” I admitted. There wasn't much else to say.

“Don't tell her I made that joke, though.”

"What?”

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“You heard me. Don't tell her."

“It's inappropriate?” I hazarded.

"It's extremely inappropriate. What is wrong with you?"

“I grew up in the foster system,” I said as if it explained everything.

Her voice made it clear she very much hoped it did not.

“Just…Don't tell her. Please,” she said.

"I won't tell her.”

She paced around. For whatever reason, she got a physical body. Wearing galoshes, and waders, and a cone-shaped hat. “All right, let's get started,” she said at length. “Your pig is that way."

She pointed at a copse of trees. As they got closer, the trees started to look more and more like evergreen shrubs writ large for drama. It was where I’d left my pig.

"Live oaks," she said. "I like the look, and they're pretty similar. Real live oaks don't have this much coverage, though."

“So when do I learn to lucid dream this well?”

"You’re not dreaming, lucid or otherwise,” she commented.

“What?”

"You're tripping balls."

My spirit self didn't have a face—I was just a cloud of diffuse motes of beautiful, clear light.

Otherwise, I would've stuck my tongue out at her.

"And here he comes," she said. "His Royal Porkiness."

He was approximately the size of a minivan, and he galloped toward us with all the majesty of an avalanche—dignified not in how he looked, but in what he could do, and looking unstoppable.

"He's a beaut," Elsie said, not looking impressed but fond. "I knew he was stealing from me," she confided, "but he always looked so happy, I didn't have the heart to stop him."

I could see why.

“My bad,” she said offhandedly.

And then I was being pig-nuzzled by a nose the size of a paint bucket.

Yeah, this was going to work out.

“So?” I asked Elsie.

"See?" Elsie said. "I told you so."

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A little later, I was in the backyard, petting my pig as he woke up. Mrs. Scarlett Humphrey walked up to me.

"I'm curious," I said. "I don't know much about mandatory reporters, but aren't you skirting the line pretty hard?"

"Primarily, the duty is about safety," she said, "and you have to weigh the factors. On the one hand, you were basically an AIDS patient in a COVID ward. On the other hand, a resident expert with high qualifications and written credentials—though not ones recognized by the Department of Justice—administered a highly effective, specialized treatment to resolve an unusual case of poisoning, let's say."

She gave a small, knowing smile. "Mandatory reporters don't call the cops on nurses who give surgical patients morphine, now do they?"

Her smile faded, and her expression became severe.

"However," she continued, her voice losing all its previous warmth, "if I catch you with any of that in your personal life, I will adopt the exact opposite position. Are we clear?"

Gulp.