#thesocietyofmultiples

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The Society of Multiples

Just finished Chapter 11 and scheduled it for release on our Patreon.

Just... like, reassuring everyone (myself) that I am still working on it.

-Ronin

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The Society of Multiples: The Full Novel

As an added incentive to sign up for our Patreon account, we will be publishing the full second draft of Ronin’s novel The Society of Multiples.

It will be made available chapter-by-chapter to our patrons in ebook-friendly .pdf format, roughly once or twice a week.

You can sign up for as little as $1 a month. So that’s a fairly inexpensive reading experience! Signing up includes other bonuses too, including the chance to win some art!

See the first chapter, available for free, here:

https://www.patreon.com/posts/10490759

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The Society of Multiples: the Dr. Pepper chronicles

I’ve finished what I came on front to do but I can’t go back to “sleep” yet because I bought a bottle of Dr. Pepper and I need to finish it because no one else is allowed to know what it tastes like.

Everything about being multiple makes perfect sense always

ALSO while I’m here!

If anyone was following “The Society of Multiples” you’ve probably noticed I haven’t posted anything lately. This is partly because when I submitted it to an agent I thought it would be wise not to publish the entire thing online too. Exclusivity and publishing rights and so forth.

If anyone wants to help me out by continuing to read it and give suggestions, send us a DM with your email addy and I’ll send new chapters directly to you.

-Ronin

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The Society of Multiples, Chapter 3

Chapter One here

Chapter Two here

Here’s my NaNoWriMo novel, which I’m currently editing into a “second draft” and sharing here online. This is *not* the final version; but it’s good enough to share, and I’m hoping for some feedback and constructive criticism along the way.

So far everyone has been really awesome. Too nice, really. Stop being so nice. Feel free to point out where I’m going wrong, either in storytelling, grammar, characterization, representation, etc. Also, THANK YOU!!! The encouragement is giving me incentive to keep going even though our group in general is putting up with some seriously stupid depression right now.

Since I’ll be posting at some really random times, I’ll offer that if anyone wants I can tag them whenever I release a chapter? If you want this let me know.

-Ronin Ellis

if you love me you’ll reblog

Chapter 3

While on the coach bus from Lake Victor to Red River City, I had plenty of time to digest it all. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I'd done the right thing. There would be too many questions about why I was following Jace, why I was in a position to see him aim his gun, why I'd acted so strangely when dealing with the waitress and her headmate- whose names, I read in the news, were Winnie and Marley. On top of that, the obvious questions of why no one in my faked group was a registered person. So I'd run, as I'd done before. This was the third time I was reinventing myself, starting a new life. I'd gotten good at it. I knew where to go for work and housing where they wouldn't ask for ID. Since I'd never registered any of my false identities, I couldn’t prove any education or experience. I had no bank account or credit rating. It was possible to fix this situation in theory. I could always register one of my fakes- presumably Jan, the name I was given at birth- but then I would be stuck with that name, and I'd never be able to get any other name registered, since no dMRI would demonstrate any other mind inside my skull. In fact, just by going on and to get the test done, I risked the possibility of being detected as a singlet- and then, that would be the end for me.

But maybe it wasn't enough to just move this time. Maybe it was time to make a few new changes. I couldn't risk being rediscovered; I'd come too close this time. I couldn't keep going with Jan, Eron, and Tigh. I didn't really need to revamp everything though; it would be enough to just rename them. To make it easy to remember, how about- Jake, Eli, and Taft?

It felt strange renaming these three disguises. Names were so important to most people- they wouldn't just throw them around like this, once they have one they hang on tight to it, a token of their identity that stands for who they are forever. Naming a new person who comes into a system is a big deal in that system's life. I remember the ceremony and importance when I “invented” Eron and Tigh. It would be anathema to most people to even consider renaming.

When I got off the boss, it was as Eli. The same person as Eron, really. Black hair a tangled mess from sleeping on the bus, limbs aching from the seats that were too small to sleep in, makeup a smeared mess. As I headed straight for the public switchroom I started rehearsing how I would work my way into a new life here.

When you live your life under the constant threat like I do, you learn to keep physical money in a safe place. I hadn’t saved up as much as I wanted, but it would be enough to get me on my feet. Getting around was a hassle; I’d ditched my cellphone in the lake on my way out of town, which was the right call, but now I had to find things the hard way.

The first few nights were spent sleeping under bushes in the cold, damp, Great Lakes air, while spending the day in the main branch library downtown working frantically to find a cheap apartment and a job.

My first night in my own apartment, I didn’t even care that I had no bed or mattress. There was heat in the barely-legal suite, and a carpeted floor. After what I just went through it was like sleeping in a rich man’s king-size bed.

It was two months later that I was in a coffeeshop wasting time after work, and I saw Jace's face again. I saw the face before I heard the context of the news broadcast; I almost didn't recognize him at first, stripped of makeup and put into a formless grey jumpsuit. It was his mugshot; or her mugshot, or their mugshot, it was hard to tell at this point. The caption underneath read “Jace/Rhonda – murder” and the face staring into the camera seemed lifeless and dull. The eyes were dark and deep-set into a pale face with the remnants of whispy balding hair and three days worth of stubble. The police who took this mugshot had gone out of their way to make them look awful. Even for a criminal, this degree of degradation, degendering, and dehumanizing was shocking.

I stood up and moved closer to the television. The volume had been turned down low, but I could make out what the newscaster was saying:

“...employed at the Grand Victor Hotel, where he'd developed an unhealthy obsession with co-worker Winnie. The suspect is believed to be a singlet, possessing only one identity and living a lie to appear normal. He had invented a headmate by the name of Rhonda, who is unregistered and believed to have been a disguise. Police have not confirmed rumours of a third false identity. The suspect, who police are referring to as Jace/Rhonda in the absence of a clearer identity, was found pointing a gun from a concealed location along a nearby mountain path. He was discovered before he had the opportunity to act on whatever impulses led him there- by a local named Eron, who has since gone missing-”

And there was my face, stolen from the Facebook page I'd deleted as I left. It showed Eron with black hair and grey eyes, smirking against the mountain backdrop. I nearly dropped my cover, gasped and stepped back. I forced myself to hold still and not react.

“-and is presumed to have left the province before he could be questioned. Police have asked that anyone with any information contact them regarding Eron's whereabouts, or his headmates Tigh and Jan...” There were their faces too, smiling at the camera.

I didn't listen any further. I took the last bite from my chocolate croissant, grabbed my paper coffee cup, and left the coffeeshop in what I hoped seemed like a calm and natural manner but probably came across as scared and hurried.

I was about three blocks down before I made a sharp right turn to lose myself into a crowd that was gathered around a local busker performing a dance in bodypaint and revealing faux fur costume.

The distraction didn't work- there was a woman behind me keeping pace, trying to look natural just like me, failing just like me.

Had she noticed? Was I imagining this? No, she was definitely following. I'd learned to trust my instincts; I knew how to observe people, a skill I'd developed over years trying to blend in. She was trying not to look directly at me, but when I made a sharp left at the next intersection I caught her looking carefully at my face, obviously trying to match it to the one she'd seen on the television.

She was observant too; she knew she'd been caught. She smiled, raised a hand to wave.

“Ennis, I've been looking all over for you,” she said, rushing to catch up to me.

I inhaled deeply. “I'm not-”

“I'm so glad to have caught you out here alone,” she said, stressing the last word carefully. She rushed up to me, staring at me with wide blue eyes, smiling almost believably. She looked directly into my eyes, watching for a response.

“I-”

“And such good luck, I mean- here we both are,” she laughed in a friendly and social way, “both alone, what good timing, right?”

I stopped, stared back into her eyes. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?

She stepped closer, whispering, “I caught your reactions. I saw it all. Don't worry, I'm a friend.”

“A friend to who?” I whispered back, still careful to not drop Eli's vocal mannerisms.

“A friend to people who are alone.” She glanced around quickly; in this crowd, we were definitely not alone, and drawing attention. “Why don't we go somewhere private to talk?”

I nodded slowly. My heart was racing; I couldn't believe this was happening. I hadn't met another singlet- at least one I knew of, for years.

“My apartment is empty. It's safe there. What do you say?”

I nodded. I knew I was in serious danger; if the situation wasn't what I thought it was, if it was a trap or a misunderstanding, this could be it- I wasn't even entirely sure what they would do to me if I was found out, but I knew it would probably involve nonconsensual “therapy,” which would be a euphemism for some kind of psychological torture. I'd heard rumours of electroshock, ice baths, and permanent incarceration in dark asylums. I had no idea how much of it was truth or reality; nobody talked about singlets. So many people didn't even know we exist.

I decided to follow her and find out what happened next. She led me a few blocks away to an three-story walk-up apartment building, and I followed her up two flights of stairs and down the hall to her apartment. I was getting increasingly uneasy; was this a trap? Why did she seem to feel so safe with someone she didn't even know? I realized as she unlocked the door to her home that we were both agreeing to take an equal, balanced risk. She knew the risk, and had probably taken it before.

Her apartment was small inside; a couple of couches, bookshelf, a kitchen separated by a short counter. There was a man sitting in a chair reading a book; he looked up when we entered.

“Eris? Who's this?” He took off his reading glasses, brushed his long hair out of his face.

“It's okay, Kane. He's one of us.” She shut the door behind me; I found myself standing, fidgeting, not sure what to say.

Kane put his book down, stood and put out his hand. “I”m Kane. What's your name?”

I shook his hand hesitantly. “I'm-” I was about to say Eli, but suddenly realized that this wasn't the correct answer. This man was Kane, singularly, without headmates. Kane was his actual name, who he was when he didn’t have to pretend.

“It's okay,” he said, smiling. “I imagine right now you're feeling very confused and you have a lot of questions. Have you ever met another singlet before? That you know of?”

I shrugged. “Once. Maybe. Years ago. I wasn't sure.”

“Have a seat,” suggested Eris. “Kane, maybe some tea?”

I nodded, slowly taking off my coat and sitting down. I was sitting awkwardly on the edge of my seat, as though I might need to jump up without notice to dodge a gun or an explosion.

“How did you find him?”

“I was just in the cafe, and the news came on. There was a story about our friend here.” She smiled at me. “Apparently you're a bit of a hero.”

I shrugged. I could feel my face flushing. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“And now your good deed might be getting you in trouble, I take it?”

“I could get found out. I've been in hiding for a long time.” I looked up at both of them, so calm and reassured. “And you two? Are you pretending to be like them?”

“To be multiple? Yes. We both have identities we've constructed in order to fool other people. But we're safe here together. In this apartment we can be ourselves.”

“What’s a ‘multiple?’”

“It's what we call ordinary people, the ones who have more than one mind in their head. We figured if they get to make up a word to call us, we should get to make up a word to call them.”

“That makes sense.” I felt a long pause in the air, and then I exhaled slowly.

“It's real, isn't it?” I said, dropping Eli's voice finally. “You're actually here? I found you?”

Eris smiled. She'd obviously detected the change in voice. “Yes. You don't have to pretend here. And there are more like us; we don't know how many there are out there, but there's probably a lot more than any of us ever thought. There's a group of us who meet weekly here in Red River City.”

Kane brought the tray with tea. I hesitated.

“Something wrong with the tea?” Kane asked.

“I'm so used to measuring out sugar or honey or cream based on whichever identity I'm pretending to be. I hadn't really stopped to wonder how much I want.”

“All of us go through that,” he reassured me. “We finally get a chance to let our guard down, and we realize that we don't even know who we are anymore. You're safe now, though. You get to explore your own personality and figure yourself out.”

I stirred in one small spoonful of sugar, tasted the tea. It was fine. I looked around the apartment; Kane and Eris were watching me patiently. I took a deep breath.

“I don't even know where to start... how did you two get your names? Are Kane and Eris names of your fake identities, or your own names?”

“Eris was the name I was born with. Kane was originally named Abel.”

Kane smiled and shrugged. “It kind of made sense. I was born with a limp- grew out of it mostly, surgery took care of the rest. People were always wondering why all of my identities used the cane the same way... but really I didn't know how to fake using it any other way. I kind of thought the cane had a more consistent and true identity that I did.”

I nodded. “I feel like that sometimes. I don't even have a name. I don't really know who I am... sometimes I wake up in the morning and already I'm thinking in the mindset of one of my fakes... if I'm lucky and I have the morning to myself and 'they' aren't there, I get to have a coffee and look out my window and have some peace. But it doesn't last long... I haven't really 'been myself' around other people since I was a child... and I've never-” That was it. I couldn't go any further; suddenly I found myself bawling like an idiot, hiding my face in my hands, wiping away tears, shaking with a sense of humiliation and relief. I slumped onto a chair, feeling like an idiot. I couldn't believe myself; I didn't even know these people. I realized that at some point Eris had come over and put her arm around me; Kane had put a box of tissues in front of me. I tried to centre myself, tried to come back to a sense of stability, but despite an entire lifetime of training and self-control I couldn't do it.

“It's okay, cry it out,” Eris reassured me. “It's entirely natural. It would be surprising if you didn't. This is a very powerful moment for you.”

“What are we going to do?” I sobbed. I'd finally said it aloud, the question that had been plaguing me since I was only five years old and I had realized that I was different in a very dangerous and unacceptable way. “What do they even do to us? I keep hearing stories about all kinds of medical-” I broke down again, incoherent.

“That's why we're joining together, helping each other out,” Kane said calmly. “We're going to help each other to stay away from that fate. Yes, they don't like us. They want to convert us, make us like them, or kill us trying. I'm not going to lie to you; we know some of what goes on in the institutions. We're going to do whatever we can to try and stop that.”

I had never felt more relief in my life; I had found them, others like me, and everything I'd ever hoped or feared out of that discovery had come true.

“Take your time,” Eris said, her hand on my back reassuring me. “We're going to spend some time with you... teach you what we know, and help you if we can. You can't exactly go out there right now; sooner or later someone is going to recognize this face you're wearing. We'll help you sort something out, get you set up with a new disguise.”

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The Society of Multiples, chapter 1

Since I’m sure that everyone’s getting sick of awful media where we’re all evil killers, and craving some media where multiples are okay people, now’s probably a good time to share some of my NaNo novel.

I’ve been working on a second draft. Please note that this is still pretty rough. Also, if you read any of it, you are required to write at least two (2) words of response, preferably more. Constructive criticism welcome required.

(tw: not sure if I need to include some kind of content warning, but there’s some medical drama, death, and ‘faking multiplicity’ in this section, so there ya go)

-Ronin

ps reblog and make me famous. lol

Chapter 1

The quiet was painful. At any moment I thought someone might break it, and say something that would make things less awful. I knew there was nothing that we could say that would change the fact that she was dying, and we’d all said whatever we could think of to say.

Every living thing deserves to die, she'd told me, with that quirky smile struggling below the oxygen tube tucked up into her nose. It's cruel and awful and a relief all at the same time.

The three of them had worked it out among themselves. Macy had been the one to volunteer to be on front when they died, insisting that she wanted to be the first to know what happens after that moment. Jake and Naya had said their goodbyes already, so in the room at the last moments it had been our parents, Macy's friend, and Macy's minister who were there to witness and said goodbye.

The doctor checked her vital signs for the last time, looked up at us and nodded, and wrote down the time. I knew it was time for me to go. I took one last look down at them, my sisters and brother, once incarnate together in the body below me. I was halfway down the hall, beelining for the exit, before I felt any tears. Chapter 2

October ninth started like most days in my life. I slumped out of bed, set the coffee going, opened the curtains wide to take in the second-rate view of Lake Victor. The vibrant green summer hue of the lake had now faded to its usual heavy blue, and any day now would turn to white as the lake froze over. Between me and the lake stood the Grand Victor Hotel.

I'd dreamt about Macy again, about her final moments. It's been three years and thinking about her death still felt like a punch in the gut- or maybe more like a hollowing out, like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to my stomach. It was three years now that I'd been on the run. Three years since our parents had undeservedly lost all of their children on the same day. The guilt was still there, a mix of headache and heartache that had started to lighten over time but still had a long way to go before I could really justify or forgive myself.

I watched the clouds creep their way over the mountains as I sipped my coffee. Heavy, pale gray, like they might carry snow. It was that time. I'd been lucky enough to convince the hotel to keep me on through the winter months, but I wasn't looking forward to the weather. I looked over at the hotel- two minutes was not really a very long commute, but I had a feeling that in the days to come I wouldn't be venturing out much further. They said that -40 weather wasn't uncommon here.

Coffee cup empty, I shut the curtains and went about getting ready for the day. I looked around my little one-room accommodations. Clothes, jewellery, makeup- I'd laid out everything the day before. Today I would be putting on the act of being Eron. Eron was the trickier of the three to pull off, being the most outgoing and the most different from my own personality. But I had balanced everything carefully; in order to keep up the ruse I had to present a diverse front.

I changed into Eron's black shirt and blue jeans, carefully applied angular contours to my face in front of the mirror to simulate his narrow, crooked nose and deep-set eyes. I always felt I didn't quite have the knack for it like most people, but figured it was because to other people it mattered in a different way than it did for me. I was disguising; they were revealing truths. It would never carry the same emotional resonance. On the other hand, to me it was even more important. It was a disguise I wore for my survival.

I worked in the temporary black dye to my blonde hair and eyebrows, put on Eron's ring and plain ear stud. No coloured contacts needed today; Eron's gray eyes matched my natural colour. This was a relief, my eyes were sore from Jan's brown-eyed contacts yesterday. I did my usual careful self-study in the mirror; the face looking back looked familiar, authentic. I cleared my throat.

“She sells sea shells by the sea shore,” I said to the mirror in Eron's harsh, nasal, pitchy voice. “Ring around the rosie, four and twenty blackbirds, the cradle will drop. Asshole. Dipshit. Motherfucker.” The warm-up lines were a little different for each disguise, based on the personality's invented traits.

Staring into Eron's eyes in the mirror, I found my own eyes looking back for a moment. It caught me unaware; I spent so much time in disguise that sometimes I forget that there is someone else, a central, unchanging self trapped underneath it all. I knew what to do in times like this. I took a deep breath, looked myself in the eye, and gave myself a moment of self-pity. A moment of connectedness to the rare and disturbing truth underneath. I let it wash over me as I counted to five in my head, long enough to get it out of my system before it overcame me and tears ruined my makeup.

“Good,” I said in Eron's voice. “Now suck it up, jerk. Or we'll be late for work.”

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The Society of Multiples, Chapter 6

Second draft of my story about an alternate world where almost everybody is multiple. If you read it, you agree to leave at least two words in response. Constructive criticism welcome. Reblog to rescue Pandas from extinction.

Catch up: (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5)

Let me know if you want to be tagged when I update so you don’t miss it ( @nevermindbinarity ) or search for the tag #thesocietyofmultiples

Chapter 6

A few days later I showed up again in a few news feeds online, and gave in to the temptation to read through them over a bagel and coffee in the morning at Emma’s apartment.

“What do you think would happen if I approached them?” I asked, looking up from my phone.

“Who? Amy?”

“Or the police, whoever.”

“You’d risk being revealed. Things would not go well for you.”

“Maybe. But I mean… we won’t be living in secrecy forever, will we? Someday singlets will have to reveal ourselves.”

“And then what? Get tossed into asylums and reprogrammed? Why would we do that?”

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t have to end that way.” I took a sip and thought for a moment. “Maybe some day, we might be accepted by them. Maybe they could learn to just… let us be. I mean, they think we’re dangerous but once we’re living among them and they can see that we’re harmless maybe they’ll get over it.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “That’s a fantasy. I’d like to think that the world could work like that. It seems to me that multiples are capable of all of this empathy, because they share their bodies with other minds and can feel and hear each other. They’re always exposed to viewpoints from different kinds of people, all within themselves. They don’t care about gender or skin colour or any of the things that make people unique. They don’t use any of it for superiority or judgement. But the one kind of person they can’t get their minds into is a singlet. We will alway be foreign to them. They’ll never understand us in the way they think that they need to, because they can never get directly into our lives.”

I sat with that for a while. Maybe she was right. Maybe that was why multiples of all kinds co-existed so well. Maybe that was why they had singled us out as the one and only kind of people who were unacceptable. At our next meeting, Martin was pale and trembling. He’d brought a stack of full-colour, glossy brochures. He set them down on Eris’ coffee table dramatically.

“Samette found me,” he whispered.

I picked up one of the brochures; It had a picture of a brick pathway through a beautiful park, leading to a large featureless white building. A woman in a knit sweatervest covered by a white doctor’s coat stood smiling on the path.

Bytown Institute for Dispersion Wholeness Therapy was the cover text.

“She said she wanted us all to have the same opportunity she’d had, to become... ‘normal.’” He swallowed hard. “I think she might have called us all out.”

“No,” Eris shook her head. “No, no. She wouldn’t. Even if they’d… gotten to her, made her think she’d been changed, she would never-”

“We can’t think of Samette as a person who still exists,” Nora said sharply. “If she’s giving us these then either they’ve actually succeeded-”

“-but you can’t just-” Kane interjected.

“-or they’ve succeeded in making her think she’s become multiple. Either way, whoever she used to be is either bottled up inside her or gone. I know this is harsh, trust me, I know, but….” Nora took a moment to compose herself. “We have to assume she’s called us all out.”

Everyone looked down or away, distressed.

“But what does it mean?” I asked. “I know it means she’s told them about us, but what happens next? I mean, they can’t just come for us and take us away. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know,” Nora said patiently. “By law, nobody can just come and take us away when we’ve committed no crime, but trust me, they will anyways. And nobody will stop them. Everyone is too afraid of us.”

“We might all have to go into hiding,” Kane said somberly. “Well, except maybe Mem. Samette never heard of him.”

“We can’t be too careful,” Nora pointed out. “I know that the measures we sometimes take seem paranoid and over-the-top, but trust me, as someone who remembers what happened in this city in ‘86, these people will stop at nothing to find us and remove us from society.”

“What happened in 1986?” I asked.

“Raids. About a dozen of them. There used to be several groups like ours, meeting in private. There were even gathering places- bars, cafes, and clubs that were secretly meant for singlets. Places to meet and feel safe. Still nobody’s sure if it was the department of health, the police, the CIA, or what. All of a sudden they came, and there was little left of the community. They filled the asylums and got to work trying to ‘fix’ us all.”

“It won’t happen again,” Eris assured the group. “We’ll take action now. We’ll separate. We won’t see each other for a few weeks- try to move around if you can, adopt new fake identities. There’s still enough funds to scatter us and separate us and keep us safe for now. We’ll reconvene once this all blows over.”

So we stopped the meeting early, left one by one, and got to work. Even I made changes. I dropped the Jonas identity I’d been wearing to the meetings, changed my habits and the usual routes I took to get around. I didn’t see Emma for weeks, and it was heartbreaking. We hadn’t had much of a chance to say goodbye. We exchanged a few short, simple texts, and after each time I deleted all of our past conversations and contact information.

So it was surprising when she showed up at my apartment just as I was starting to worry that I would never see her again. I was in the process of putting my makeup on to get ready for Jeff’s shift at the diner. I opened the door wide and was about to reach out for her, but something about the way she was standing made me pause.

She stepped inside carefully, looking around. She was holding another one of those pamphlets.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I said, closing the door and leaning in for a kiss. She pulled away though.

“Please, it’s not… appropriate.”

“What’s wrong, Emma?”

“Mem, I’ve been thinking... “ she looked down at her pamphlet. “Maybe we should listen. Maybe we should find out if there’s something to this.”

I stepped back from her. “Emma, that’s not like you. What’s going on? What have they done to you?”

She shook her head. “They didn’t. They haven’t done anything. I just thought… it’s inevitable, they’re going to find us. Maybe it would be easier if we went together, and cooperated.”

“Emma please, don’t do this. We can be safe. They won’t find us. We’ll move together, adopt new identities, we’ll be okay.” As I said it, though, I knew I was too late.

“I’m sorry, Mem, I’ve made up my mind.” She headed for the door. “If you change yours- please come find me. I don’t want to do this alone.” She wiped away a tear.

“Emma, wait- Emma!” She was already out the door and down the hall. I started running after her, but outside the glass doors in the lobby of my apartment building I could see two figures- dressed in slacks and sweatervests, smiling and waiting for her. I backed away, snuck back into my apartment and locked the door. I didn’t sleep much that night, dwelling on what had happened. I’d been called out- there was no question there. Samette had never known me, but Emma had led them right to me. It was only a matter of time before they found me.

In my head I went through dozens of scenarios of how it could all play out, and in each of them it seemed inevitable that I was going to be found out. I could run, and keep running, but I didn’t want to live a life of watching everyone I care about being taken away.

I had an alternative though. I could stop running, and fight them head-on.

I turned on my phone and flipped through the news feeds, looking for my face. The story wasn’t buried too deep. The headline read;

“Talk Show Host Amy Offers $10,000 Reward To Get Eron Interview.”

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The Society of Multiples, Chapter 8

Second draft of my story about an alternate world where almost everybody is multiple. If you read it, you agree to leave at least two words in response. Constructive criticism welcome. Reblog if you love cake.

Catch up: (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7)

I think I’m technically supposed to have a polished version of the novel ready when I start passing it around to agents, and since I’ve already done that, it’s probably wise if I hurry the hell up and finish at least the second draft.

Huge thanks to everyone who’s been leaving comments and critique! It’s been incredibly helpful!

Let me know if you want to be tagged when I update so you don’t miss it ( @nevermindbinarity ) or search for the tag #thesocietyofmultiples

-Ronin

Chapter 8

The mood as we entered Jernigan shifted to relief and excitement. Jernigan itself was a large but laid-back city; obviously very rich, with a lot to do for entertainment and relaxation. It was midday when we got there, but evidence of the city’s busy nightlife were everywhere in neon signs and twenty-four hour locations.

We stopped at the hotel across from the studio first, checked in, and slept. All three of us were exhausted.

The next day, Cal and Macy accompanied me across the street to the studio. It was a huge building, very blocky and concrete. Inside, it was abuzz with activity; people rushing in every direction, clutching scripts and props, and escorting actors from place to place. It was clear that a lot happened here besides Amy’s show. We passed by one studio where it looked like they were filming some kind of science fiction show.

I insisted that either Cal or Macy stay with me. I’d grown to trust them over the last few days, and the last thing I wanted was to be misled at this stage of the game by someone trying to convince me that they were personnel when in fact they were here to take me away. I wasn't’ sure if my paranoia had grown beyond the reality of the situation yet, but both of them easily agreed.

I was taken past a desk where bored-looking secretary handed me a clipboard with a waiver on it, and led me down a hall to a small waiting room. Cal and Macy sat across from me; they referred to the space as a Green Room.

The waiver had few surprises; I’d always kept a skeptical attitude to talk shows in general, but at least Amy’s show seemed more respectable and real than most. She’d started her career as a journalist, and kept a degree of journalistic honesty, at least in image. And Julian, who ran the show behind the scenes, had obviously done a very good job. The production values were high. Besides the talk show, they were said to run a media empire that rivalled any of the big Hollywood studios.

Once I’d read the contract carefully and signed off on it, I was rushed back outside to film some stock footage. They had me walk down the street, sit next to a fountain, stare into the distance. An impatient man with a camera told me to act brooding, mysterious, and ponderous, but also natural, as though I was like that all the time. I must have pulled it off fairly well based on an entire lifetime of acting by necessity, because the shooting didn’t take long. The cameraman seemed annoyed to have Cal and Macy hovering around the whole time, but it was as if he didn’t have time to argue with them so he just tolerated their presence.

Back inside, I was seated in front of a makeup mirror. A cheery blonde artist rushed in smiling from ear to ear, and got to work on my face. Ey had a photo of Eron which ey clipped to the mirror, as well as a couple of other similair faces of actors and celebritities who vaguely resembled him. I did my best not to fidget. It was especially strange having someone else put that face on me; I felt uncomfortable enough doing it myself.

Ey did a great job, though- far better than I’d ever done. Somehow ey had captured his look perfectly, even better than my best attempts. I nodded in appreciation. Ey shook my hand, made some kind of awkward compliment or appreciation about my heroism, and my patience in the makeup chair, or something- by this point I was so full of anxiety that I was having trouble focusing. I thanked em and got ushered back to the green room, where a costumer was waiting with a suit. I was skeptical at first, but again they’d managed to capture something about Eron that surprised me. The suit was black, with a dark gray shirt, and no tie.

It seemed strange; heroes rarely wore black in film or television, but the nation apparently saw Eron as a moody, dark anti-hero. They’d created an image of him that wasn’t entirely wrong, but bolstered by a lie they didn’t expect. I was going to go out on the stage in this? Millions would be watching me. Millions would hear what I had to say, and perhaps fittingly- I would be presented as an antihero.

For a moment I contemplated asking for a different outfit, since this would not be the impression I wanted the audience to walk away with. But I shrugged and put the suit on; I had to maintain the lie of my life a little longer. The costumer had to swap out a different jacket due to sleeves too short, but overall the suit fit me well and was flattering. Macy nodded and smiled when I paused in front of the mirror to admire it.

The secretary poked her head in the door. “Eron, Amy wants to have a brief pre-interview with you.”

Macy and Cal walked with me towards the door, but the secretary just gave us an exasperated look. “Alone. Obviously.”

I contemplated my options for a moment. “Can they wait outside the room? They need to stay near. Amy appointed them.”

She shrugged. “Sure, if you want. This way.”

She led us through the maze-like corridors to another small office, and down the hall from there to a closed door.

“We’ll wait here,” Cal assured me. “You’re safe with Amy.”

I took a deep breath and let the secretary usher me in. She put on a false smile as she introduced me to Amy, then left.

Amy was shorter than I’d expected, which is what everybody seems to say about celebrities when they meet face-to-face. She was still imposing, though, but her mannerisms were also gracious and welcoming. She shook my hand, then we sat on a comfortable couch.

“I’m glad to finally meet you, Eron. Before we went out, I wanted to stop and express my gratitude for coming all this way for this interview.”

“I’m not really sure what to say. I’m kind of overwhelmed. I’m not sure why there’s all this attention on me after such a small incident.”

She smiled, offered me a coffee from the urn on the table. I nodded. “Well, it goes beyond that incident,” she explained, “and the incident itself was strange enough. Gun violence, sexual predation, unexpected heroism, all of that got people talking. But then there’s you.”

I added cream and sugar to my cup of coffee, and sipped it gently. “I’m not that exciting.”

“You really are, though. You’ve got the whole world talking. This random stranger barges into a hostile situation, defuses it, then runs off and completely disappears from the face of the planet. Did you know I had four different teams of private detectives try to track you down?”

My head was spinning. The anxiety was building fast; I felt like I was going to vomit. How on earth was I going to get out on that stage and talk about all of this?

“That seems excessive,” I answered carefully.

She laughed. “Maybe. But everything they found just made me more and more curious. You’re a bit of an enigma. I have to be careful- I don’t want you to say too much before we go out on stage. We need to have natural reactions and easy banter, it can’t seem rehearsed. But I’m honestly looking forward to this interview more than most, I’ll admit it.”

I felt tongue-tied. I really didn’t want to go out on stage like this, shaking and whimpering and barely able to speak. I couldn’t get my voice to get along with my brain, so I just took another sip.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to do great. Everyone gets jitters before the stage. Once we’re out there, you’ll be surprised at how easy it all is. And trust me, everyone is going to want to hear what you have to say. Especially-” she paused, and caught my eye- “especially if you’re going to say what I’m hoping you’re going to say.”

There was a long moment when our eyes locked. I think my jaw must have dropped, but she just smiled again, that easy comfortable smile that just naturally relaxes whoever she points it at. And then she winked.

“I also wanted to let you know- Julian will be around. The two of us discuss things internally during shooting- he needs to be around and have his say. He’ll keep out of the way for the most part, so don’t worry about it. I just wanted to let you know for the sake of honesty and disclosure.”

My eyes went wide, and she caught the expression. “Yes, we co-front. Not a lot of people do, or even can, but it might have something to do with being dual. We spend a lot of time together. I’d appreciate if you didn’t make that public knowledge; people get uncomfortable at things like that. They think there’s only certain proper ways to be. I figured I could trust you, though.”

I nodded. “Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

I was ushered back again to the Green Room, where a technician fitted me with a lapel mike. It was surprisingly small, but apparently very high-fidelity.

I was the only guest in the Green Room, along with Cal and Macy, but they still brought in a large platter of cheese and crackers. I nibbled nervously. I felt that if I had too many it would just send my stomach into even more convulsions.

Finally, everything was in place, and I was led to the stage. Cal and Macy promised to stay just back-stage; before I went out, I shook their hands and thanked them for all they’d done. I hoped that when all was said and done, they’d still be there, ready to help escort me away, but I knew I could expect no promises.

I heard Amy talking, winding up a brief welcome and instructions to the crowd, who were being prepped to react with positivity and thoughtfulness. I marvelled at how carefully the whole production was put together to create a certain mood. Amy really had a way of working the audience.

Amy sat and began the show’s introduction; a brief description of Eron and the incident, of Eron going into hiding, of her pulling her resources to find him. I saw on a monitor screen various photos of Eron and Lake Victor being shown as a backdrop to her explanation.

A technician pointed at me, gestured for me to go on-stage.

All of a sudden, all of the jitters and the anxiety washed away. I looked out at the audience, at the brightly lit stage, at Amy herself poised so perfectly in one of the two yellow armchairs on stage- and all of a sudden it all changed. I suddenly knew I could do what I had come here to do. My heart slowed down to a relaxed pace, my hands stopped shaking. Nothing that stood in the way was important anymore.

I walked out on stage with determination and a soft smile. The audience applauded. Amy stood and shook my hand, catching my eye again with a knowing look. We sat, and I tried to make myself comfortable without slouching.

After the applause died down, Amy turned to me. “You’ve come a long way to be with us today. Whereabouts are you living now.”

“I’ve been in River City. I’ve lived there since I left Lake Victor.”

“And how have things been for you? Do you get recognized on the street a lot?”

“No, not really. I’ve actually been laying low ever since the incident.”

She nodded. “It’s been pretty clear that you wanted to avoid attention. Before we get deeper into that though, I was hoping you would tell us more about the event itself. We haven’t really heard it from your perspective.”

“Okay. I don’t know that I have much to add. I was working in the hotel kitchen in Lake Victor when I noticed one of the chefs acting strangely-”

“That’d be Jace?”

I nodded.

“What did he do?”

“Well, he switched. A public switch, stress-induced. His headmate Rhonda took front. Supposedly.”

“But you recognized that something seemed wrong.”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

I shrugged. “I can’t really say that it was anything in particular. I’ve just always studied people very closely, I guess. I could see that something was off. The switch was fake.”

“Did you have any inkling as to why he would fake the switch?”

“Not at the time. It seemed like he was trying to get out of work, but that’s a pretty drastic way to do it.”

“But effective.”

“Yes, definitely. Everybody was kind of embarrassed. He got out of there in a hurry.”

“And you followed?”

“My shift was almost over, I was planning on going for a hike. I noticed Jace leave on one of the trails, so I decided to follow. Out of curiosity.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, I wasn’t following too intently, so I lost sight of him for a bit, but then I saw him on a ledge further down the hill, and I could see that he had a gun. He was in a little hiding spot above the main path, and I realized that he was waiting for someone to come by and that he was going to shoot them.”

“What did that feel like, in that moment? Realizing you were seeing someone about to commit a violent act?”

“Shocking. Very shocking. It’s just not something you see a lot of. And it was so sneaky, the way he was hiding… it gave me chills. It felt so surreal.”

She nodded. “Go on.”

“So then I saw one of the hotel waitresses coming around the corner with a young man, and I realized that one of them had to be the target. So I decided to act before Jace got a chance to.”

“But in doing so, you must have realized that you were putting yourself in a lot of danger?”

“Yeah. I knew. But I had an advantage on him. He didn’t even know I was there; I was able to get the drop on him before he had a chance to react. Besides, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. I had to do something.”

“A lot of people are considering that a very heroic act. Not everybody would do what you did in that situation.”

“Maybe not. I don’t know. I can’t imagine doing anything differently. I think I was mostly in the right place at the right time.”

“Yes, but how you got to be at that place and time isn’t coincidence either. You saw something that nobody else could see.”

“I guess.”

“So, after all of that was said and done, you disarmed him, and then what happened?”

“I handed the gun over to the waitress’ headmate, who used it to subdue Jace until the police could arrive.”

“And by the time the police came, you were long gone.”

“Yes. I felt I had to get out of there.”

“And that’s the big question that’s been on everybody’s minds. So let’s get down to it; can you share with us why you felt it was necessary to leave?”

It was amazing how much she could communicate with a glance; comfort, strength, encouragement. She shifted forward on her chair, ready to take in my answer.

I looked out at the audience, glanced momentarily at the camera, and came back to look at her.

“My whole life I’ve tried to lay low, stay unnoticed. I’m different from most people. A lot of people would consider me… unwanted. I left because I knew that if people found out about me, I could be in personal danger.”

“What is it about you that makes you feel that people would react badly to you?” I could tell by the even, careful way she asked, that she knew. There was no question now.

I took a deep breath. Here it was.

“I’m a singlet,” I said finally. It was over now; anything that came before this moment in my life would be fundamentally different from anything that happened after.

The audience murmured; the cameramen foundered with their equipment. I could hear gasps of surprise and revulsion and disgust. Through it all, Amy remained stoic, unfazed.

“You realize that by telling the world about this now, you’re putting yourself at risk all over again.”

“I know. I know.” I struggled to keep my voice calm. “I’m just… tired of living in hiding. Tired of disguising myself, of lying just to fit in and feel safe. And for no good reason! There’s no reason why we should be feared. We really are just like everybody else- we’re not the monsters that everyone believes we are.”

She nodded. “I think a lot of people are going to be surprised that, in this whole story, it wasn’t the man with the gun who was the singlet, it was the man who stepped in and stopped him. It’s going to make a lot of people uncomfortable that the singlet was the hero instead of the villain.”

“Yes. And I worried that nobody would understand that. I worried that the whole story would turn inside-out, that somehow I would be blamed. Because people think that we have no moral compass, no ability to empathize. They think we’re cold and cruel and twisted, that we do horrible things to animals and children- it’s all so ridiculous. I know that things will get twisted around now, that somebody will invent a new story out of all of this, that turns my motives upside-down and portrays me as equally evil. But I wanted to give people the chance to consider that-” I had to pause, my voice was breaking up now. “-to consider that we’re... okay. That we should be considered equals, that we’re safe and normal and just like everybody else.” I was losing composure, but I had to finish. I had to raise my voice a little as the unsettled crowd was getting louder. “Nobody has ever really heard about our lives from our own perspectives before. I’m sure half of the world doesn’t even know we exist. But we’re out there, and there’s so many more of us than people suspect, and we’re human beings. We’re all around you; friends, siblings, children. I want everybody to know that, even if they don’t know it yet, they already know a singlet. There’s somebody in their lives that they consider a good person, or a friend, or someone they love. And that they should still love that person even if they know.”

I took a deep breath. The sound of the crowd was growing now. The audience was no longer an audience, now they were becoming active. People were fidgeting with their phones, using them to record and make calls and contact people. The waivers they’d signed on their way in were no longer important; something more important than the show was going on. It might not be much longer before the audience became a full-on mob; there were many people visibly upset, some of them turning angry.

“I think that’s about all we’ll have time for,” Amy said calmly.

[1ff]

the Society of Multiples, author's shower thought

My mind just got blown... a reader was talking to me about Mem and was under the impression that Mem isn't a guy. I intentionally had multi-gendered systems, genderqueer, and trans characters, and never told the reader what was in anybody's pants because NOYFB. But I don't think the actual text says what Mem's sex or gender is. It only describes the genders of the fake identities, and the ones described are all male. 

I'm now intentionally writing Mem as ambiguous, and leaving it up to the reader. After all, in the culture described in the book, it wouldn't matter to anyone, and it doesn't matter to the story. 

If anyone out there catches me at a mistake in this, please point it out.