Four Painful Years

>It's so funny. So funny that it makes you laugh.

JULIE: "No, that's... No. Cottonhelm, right? Cottonhelm, that's ass. That is straight a dog's ass."
JULIE: "What is it really? Cancer? My money's on cancer. Human brain parasite? What."

COTTONHELM: "I'm sorry, Julie, but this is as real as it gets."
COTTONHELM: "Nestled tightly within the corpus callosum just behind your hypothalamus is an organic structure the size of a man's fist. Since your first diagnosis in Two-Thousand-Three, a bevy of clandestine paramilitary groups - some paid, some acting out of self interest - have set about mustering their resources in a concentrated effort to sieze it as quietly and efficiently as possible. Your 'neighbor', one 'Urk'm Gants', has been tailing you for several years now, gradually picking off his competition while waiting for the ideal moment... to..."
COTTONHELM: "Miss Mitchells is something the matter?"

JULIE: "Pffff... keke..."
JULIE: "Gk... snort..."

COTTONHELM: "M-Miss Mitchells?"

JULIE: "SnnnnkkkkKKKKKKGGGGG-"

---

You proceed to lose every ounce of composure you had left. You can feel the disapproving looks of the bigwigs before you as you double over and laugh yourself hoarse.

---

JULIE: "Ha ha ha! Oh my GOD!"
JULIE: "Augh, I haven't laughed so hard since that time I caught Luca eating mayo straight from the jar!"
JULIE: "HAPPY NATIONAL SANDWICH DAY, LUCA! GKKK-"

GUDRUN: "Julie, I understand the particulars can sound a little farfetched, but don't you think the situation would benefit from a degree of self-respect on your part?"

COTTONHELM: "You must admit, this whole debacle is kind of ridiculous."

GUDRUN: "This is a matter of life and death!"

JULIE: "Okay but it's stupid!"
JULIE: "It's so stupid. First of all, what does it do? Where do these things even come from? Do I just grow 'superweapons' in my head like some kinda messed-up herb garden, or is some douchebag using me as their safety deposit box? Also, if this thing is so valuable, why didn't they just take me out then and there, when I was a baby?"
JULIE: "Also also, if you three knew about this, where the hell have you been up until now? Why'd you have to wait 'till I was halfway suicidal to show up and do the 'We've been watching you' thing!?"

COTTONHELM: "Not everyone handles crossing over the same way. Most Mundanes break through and experience no ill effects, barring the associated headaches and auditory static. Temporary nuisances. However, there are those who's Barriers were never meant to come down. If these unlucky few are forced into The Flipside before the Barrier can prepare an opening, the results can be devastating. Mundanes who 'crash' in such a manner end up fearful, broken, panicked... Quite a few lose their minds, hence the 'marbles' we discussed earlier."
COTTONHELM: "As important as the fate of the galaxy is to us, to risk one's mental state like that, let alone that of a child... We consider such methods unconscionable."

VERMILLION: "BAAAH. I KEEP TELLING THEM, JOB IS JOB. SOMETIMES TO MAKE OMELETTE, YOU MUST DRIVE INNOCENT CHILDREN TO BRINK OF INSANITY."

COTTONHELM: "... Beg your pardon. Some of us consider such methods unconscionable."

JULIE: "Even if the alternative is a short life full of pain and misery?"

GUDRUN: "Well, picture it this way. Would you rather be dying, miserable and in pain, or dying, miserable, in pain and wearing a straight jacket?"

JULIE: "... Lady your bedside manner could use some work."

COTTONHELM: "In regards to the origins and capabilities of the mass, we don't have much to go on. There have been multiple accounts of similar growths, but far between, and all anecdotal. Any records of past encounters have since been lost, stolen or destroyed by unknown vandals, but one particularly widespread rumor claims that a single specimen can produce enough energy to sustain a spacefaring civilisation for nearly ten-thousand Earth-years... Though how they came up with that metric is beyond me."

JULIE: "So these jerks are tryin'a crack me open on a hunch? This just keeps getting better and better..."

COTTONHELM: "If that hunch is correct, whomever comes to possess the mass shall wield an unprecedented font of power. A fuel source of that magnitude could be used to warp societies, topple economies... Annihilate entire planets. That is why it must be kept safe. That is why you, dear Julie, must be kept safe."
COTTONHELM: "And I, for one, believe we are capable of doing so without resorting to the unjust murder of a innocent young woman who just wants to build tiny robots and eat jam sandwiches in peace."

GUDRUN: "It wouldn't be right."

VERMILLION: "IT WOULD BE WASTE OF FIERY SPIRIT INSIDE OF YOU."

JULIE: "... Sniff."
JULIE: "They're peanut butter and jam sandwiches..."

---

Stop crying you nitwit... You're not even sad... Just super confused and more than a little touched. It would be so easy for these people to just pop you open and be done with it, but they seem genuinely willing to help you out... Then again, experience taught you long ago that strangers tend to fake it.

You can't let your guard down for even a second, but it's nice to feel cared about every once in a while, even in this absurd a context.

---

COTTONHELM: "Tissue?"

JULIE: "I'm fine..."
JULIE: "Look, forget my other question, alright? I guess I don't care..."

GUDRUN: "You would have found the answer underwhelming."

JULIE: "... Great, now I'm curious."
JULIE: "Whatever, can we just get to the reason why I'm here already? This couch is making my butt hurt and the lighting in this room is giving me a bad case of tennis eyeball."
JULIE: "Honestly, unless your plan for me is just 'stuff her in a bomb shelter and feed her pretzals until she dies', you're wasting your time with anything more complex than that. It's not like you'd have to wait that long anyway, in four years I'm up on a cloud somewhere diggin' for keys under St. Peter's welcome mat."

---

Suddenly the mood in the room seems to change. Everyone starts jostling around and straightening up and cracking their giant armored knuckles like something exciting is about to happen.

---

COTTONHELM: "Dearest, if all goes according to plan, you may not be disturbing ol' Petey-boy's welcome mat for quite some time."

---

Your heart skips a beat.

---

JULIE: "... What?"