Page 88 of White Lights
“It’s for you,” Mo says in the clip, and Dez remembers having this conversation, how she hadn’t understood it then, hadn’t taken him seriously.
“Your tattoo?”
He nods. “I’m going to miss you.”
“When?”
“When you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She felt annoyed, because she wanted to leave and didn’t know how. Now she feels like she might weep.
“Now I’ll still have you with me,” he says, and pats his wrist. He leans back against the windshield, watching the clouds pull apart like taffy.
Dez snaps herself from the reverie.
“I’ll just use the clouds for the ending.” Her voice sounds stiff. “The film doesn’t need the rest of the scene.”
“It does,” Rafe says.
“It’s too much about me. Especially for the end.”
“Go back a moment,” Rafe suggests. “Zoom in on your face, right after he tells you about the tattoo.”
Dez does.
“Closer,” Rafe suggests.
She zooms in closer until she can see the clouds, the setting sun, reflecting in her eyes. It’s so peaceful it takes her breath away.
“You look happy,” Rafe says.
And she does.
“Keep it,” Rafe says.
And she does. She keeps the full length of the conversation in the film. She ends the film zoomed in on the clouds in her eyes, so that closing image mirrors the opening image’s clouds at dawn. Like you could start the film over on a loop once you reached its end, an Ouroboros.
When she realizes this, that the whole story is a cycle, a circle, Dez understands she’s finished her brother’s film.
RAFE TURNS TO THE BARcart behind them in the Lens, to the two espressos he poured earlier. “Take one,” he says.
When Dez takes the cup in her hands, a thunderouswhooshsounds in her ears. She feels for an instant like she’s being violently shaken, like she’s a dusty rug being beaten. Then, as quickly as the feeling came on, it’s gone. She’s standing straight, her stomach settling, her limbs bewildered. She looks at Rafe.
“What was that?”
“Your reacquaintance with time. Eri designed the formula to wear off naturally after twenty-four hours. But if you’re ready to come back into time sooner, all you have to do is seize it.”
“Seize time?”
“In effect,” Rafe says. “Reentry is triggered when you touch something—like that espresso cup,” Rafe explains. “The Soma wears off instantly, and you drop back into real time. It works best when you use both hands. Go on, drink.”
Dez takes a sip. It burns her tongue. She may not understand what’s happening, but it’s real.
“One more thing,” Rafe says, withdrawing from his pocket a small white box of matches bearing the Acheron crest. He strikes one against the flint and a pop of pure white fire glows from the tip. Dez’s eyes follow the smoke rising from the flame to a small hole she’s never noticed at the shadowy apex inside her Lens. Rafe lets the match burn until the white fire reaches his fingers; then he shakes out the flame.
“What was that?” Dez asks.
“I sent your finished film to our Distribution Department. They’ll put it in a format I can share with your brother.”
