Backworlds

For the second time in one night, the nameless man was thankful that his eyes opened.

He and Wendy were engulfed in a ray of light mere seconds after spoke her chant. It was strong enough to immediately knock them out. They awoke in a grassy meadow under a generous daylight. The nameless man awoke first and muttered to himself:

"Where…why are we here? Did she really need to invoke a magical spell to go to Iceland? She couldn't afford a cruise or a plane ticket or whatever the hell—and what's with these trees? I've never seen trees bending back and forth like that. And this grass feels starchy and weird—I can't even see myself lying in it…Okay, think! Ow—how the hell—didn't it just turn winter? Why is it boilingly hot? Ugh, shut up and think! There doesn't seem to be anything I can stand on to get a better view of the terrain…if I just pick a direction and start walking, I'll die of heat stroke in less than two hours…There aren't even any trails or patches of wet dirt or signs of rain or anything—I guess Iceland has a lot of respect for its ecosystems…Whatever, either Wendy will have some other magic thing that can get us out of this, or we'll just sit here and get eaten by ants. Wait, now that I think about it—I don't even see any bugs in the grass. What is this?"

Wendy rose her head out of the grass next to him. He immediately grabbed her shoulders and shook her awake in a panic.
"Wendy, Wendy, Wendy. Why are we here—where are we? What did you do?"

She sat unresponsive and still clearly half-asleep. Once she looked up and slightly opened her eyes, they shot open widely and she became ecstatic.

"Holy—I didn't think it would actually work! I thought your pathos was just slightly too gray—I've read a thousand times that the margin of error is especially unforgiving—"

He interrupted her frenzied happiness by shouting: "Hey!" and snapping his fingers in her face twice. "Answer me! What is going on?"

"I was going to answer you but now you're making it fun not to."

He threw up his hands in a bout of anger and out of his left hand, which was not his dominant one, came a small ball of fire. It very nearly set a tree that overshadowed them into flames, which would have torn to shreds the adjoining forest. He threw himself to the ground in a panic and looked at his left hand in astonishment. Wendy looked at him with intrigue and spoke:

"Woah…I didn't realize that's how it worked. It looks like your immediate emotions directly match the firepower you can produce—no pun intended, again. But your pathos changed color slightly, so it looks like you had to dip into your supply."

"I didn't do anything! I just put up my hands and something came out of them—I bet'chu it's because of this blazing heat or something—but can you just tell me what's happening?"

"Sure, pretty boy, I'll explain everything—"

"Stop. Calling. Me. That."

"Well, what else am I supposed to call you? You won't give me your name, even though you definitely know it."

"I REALLY DON'T!"

"Yeah, sure—someone young and smart can't remember his own name. What is it? Just tell me."

"I don't know. For the third time."

At this, Wendy appeared actually surprised. "Oh…you really don't know…But wait, just to test: tell me what you think about me."

"Ugh…I think you're slightly overbearing and annoying, but you seem very meticulous, empathetic, and in possession of interesting life experience. You also have a magnificent waist to hip ratio—"

When those words left his lips, he reflexively put his hands over his mouth. Wendy spoke again:

"Pft…ahaha! Out of my whole body, that's what sticks out most to you?"

"I didn't say that…it left my lips subconsciously."

"I know. In this world, we can't lie. When asked a direct question or prompt, one will always speak their mind."

"Oh…OH! That's…that could turn bad really quickly…There are a lot of questions you could've asked me that would've been way worse…"

"Like what? If you want to…fornicate with me or something?"

"Uhm…yes—yes as in that's the poor question that I refuse to answer."

"There are no workarounds like that—the inquirer always receives the honest answer."

"...uhm…sorry."

"Don't sweat it. I was twenty once."

"Wait—so we really are in another world? And we can't lie here?"

"So they say. Well, I've read that there is a way, but nobody has figured it out yet."

"Well, in that case, what do you really think about me?"

Wendy giggled flatteringly. "I've been telling you the truth: I think you look amazing. Your dark hair looks mysterious and your shoulders and arms almost bulge out of your hoodie. But what drew me to you first was your pathos."

"Oh…I thought you were lying the whole time—wait, my pathos is why you covered for me at the bar? What is that?"

"You can think of your pathos as a gas tank. It's what compels you to concentrate, work on things you care about, talk about things you care about, and—I didn't even know this until a moment ago—apparently do magic in this world. Your pathos changed into a slightly lighter color when you sent out that fireball."

"Why did my pathos stick out to you? And how did you even notice? Is it like a smell or sound or what?"

"Haha—no." Wendy phrased that as though smells or sounds would be unfeasible, so unfeasible that she couldn't help but giggle at the idea. "They're outlined by a little cloudiness that surrounds the other person. Yours stuck out to me because it's virtually the exact same as mine."

"So…you felt the need to kidnap me because you see clouds around me that are the same color as yours? Are you sure you didn't drop something else in my drink and I'm on a trip right now?"

"Yes, emo boy—I'm sure."
"You're going to call me 'emo boy' now?"

"What should I call you?"

"Call me something fun. Something that's endearing, but in a funny way.. Like…what's that cookie that's got a crazy amount of flavors? It's got a coating on the inside but a dark exterior?

"You're thinking of Oreo's, love?"

"No…well—yes, but no. They're like those but an alternate version. They'd probably be something in the back of the shelf that you forget about—"

"Ooh, Noir! That's a cute name! You want to run with it?"

The nameless man, now being given the nickname "Noir," nodded his head and quietly giggled.

"But onto the point, emo—Noir…(Noir somehow sounds more emo than 'emo boy.') Onto the point, pathos vary widely between people—and I mean widely. Finding two people with the same pathos (or even almost the same) is more rare than like…galaxies colliding. We're talking about an event so rare that I would bet good money it's never happened before and will take several thousand years to happen again. So yeah, it's because our clouds are the same color." Wendy finished that part mockingly.

"How is that even possible? Like, what determines a person's pathos? How did ours end up the same?"

"Pathos are not determined—not in the way you're thinking. They're generated through certain life events and go through patterns of high activity and inactivity—of being in flux and staying stationary. The surest way of measuring them (that we know of) is seeing how much suffering a person has gone through."

At this, Noir was especially confused. He paused a moment before asking:

"And…these pathos things—does a greater amount of suffering allow you to do more? Using the 'gas tank' analogy from earlier—does suffering add to it or deplete it?"

"These things are difficult to read, because it seems to think of suffering both quantitatively and qualitatively…but, from what I know, suffering typically adds to it and allows you to do more."

At this, Noir gained some sense of strength and eagerly asked another question:

"And, in terms of pathos, are we rare ones?"

"Wow, you're full of good questions. And the answer is yes—finding two matching pathoses is rare enough—finding two matching pathoses like ours is what made this a rarer than rare meeting."

Noir began to get excited.

"Wendy, don't you know what that means? We'll be unstoppable. If we team up, we can dominate this entire world by force and be the supreme leaders of it. Now I can see why you brought me here."

"Wow, you are an ambitious one. Unfortunately, you've misunderstood. That's not why I've brought you here. And, I think you'll see quickly enough that that might be harder than you think."

"Oh…well, why did you bring me here?"

"I've read about this place extensively…Newton and at least two other alchemists were in agreement that there's something remarkably special here…that this world is home to what they called: 'The Ultimate Weapon.'"

"'The Ultimate Weapon?' What do you want to do with it?"

"I…I wasn't too sure until recently…But I think you helped me understand. I want to get out of it what I couldn't get with the violin. I want to see the world change…I'm not sure in what way yet…but I know it's possible."

"That thing sounds like it's worthy of creating a dictatorship. That's what you want to do with it?"

"No…I can't word it right at the moment. But you should feel it too if you've been through some of the same stuff I have been."

Noir considered her words carefully. He slowly started to agree with her. Something did need to change, even if he couldn't understand what.

"Okay, I think I'm starting to get it. Just one tiny problem, though: how the hell are we going to get it home?"

"I…don't know. I don't even know how to get ourselves home yet."

Noir froze at this. "You…don't know how to get home?"

Wendy opened her mouth to articulate a response, but closed it and cleared her throat. "Anyway, why don't you come with me? I think I know the way to a nearby colony."

She ran off through the meadow without another word. And, despite the high heels of the boots she was wearing, she was very agile.

"Hey, wait for me!" Noir shouted as he chased after her.