Page 57 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

If our branch of the multiverse exists for a reason, and not simply because this is the way reality organizes itself, we have no way of knowing what that reason is. We have no way of influencing the outcome. All we can do is hope that whatever it is, it will be kind.

* * *

They had been walking for a long time. Long enough for the reflections around them to grow more and more bizarre in comparison to their reality, showing scenes of mermaids and vampires and worlds where everyone dressed like Victory Anna, all gears and copper stitching and impractical little hats. Victory Anna had paused in front of one of those mirrors for almost a minute, hungrily drinking in the details of her friends and teammates dressed in what she considered appropriate clothing.

Other mirrors showed a blackened, blasted, empty world, the aftermath of some great and unspeakable catastrophe. All of them hurried past those reflections, not looking at them any longer than necessary. One of the devastated worlds was empty except for a stuffed bear wearing a felt domino mask, and somehow that small reminder that there had been versions of them in all those felled worlds, versions of them who hadn’t been able to stop the apocalypse, just made things worse.

“Wow, Jack,” said Action Dude, after a particularly nasty world overgrown with mutated brambles had gone silently past. “How do you deal with all this?”

“Mostly I don’t,” she said. “I’m not the Snow Queen’s heir. I thawed too much to be a Snow Princess, and thawing at all meant I couldn’t be a Jackie Frost. The Snow Queen keeps the mirrors, and that means it’s never going to be my job. I’ve been here before. I had to walk from one end to the other in order to become Papa’s heir, because this is part of Winter, and someday it’s going to belong to me. But I’ll never have to be responsible for them. I’m glad.”

“Jackie was,” said Velveteen, not looking back at Jack or sideways at Action Dude. Her eyes remained fixed on the hallway ahead, searching, always searching for the door. “She brought me here when I needed to understand my place in the multiverse. She didn’t like the mirrors, but she understood them.”

“I guess it’s different for everybody,” said Jack uncomfortably.

Velveteen started to reply. Then she stopped dead, dragging Action Dude to a halt with her. The others stopped in turn, Victory Anna’s heels clacking against the floor in angry punctuation.

“Warning, please,” she said waspishly.

“Look. Do you see that?” Velveteen pointed to the nearest mirror. Like some of the others, it was reflecting the hall: they hadn’t reached it yet, and it had yet to summon up a parallel world for their amusement.

Unlike any of the others, its reflection of the hall showed a door on the opposite wall. “The door,” said Polychrome. “Shit. I wasn’t sure it was real.”

“Papa doesn’t lie,” said Jack.

“Yeah, he does, but not about things like this,” said Velveteen. She started to reach for the mirror, and hesitated. “If it’s reflecting the door, does that mean it contains the door, or does that mean the door is on the opposite wall?”

“Ah, good,” said Victory Anna, stepping briskly forward. “A logic problem. Let us consider. Mirrors reflect: that is the nature of mirrors. But with each reflection, they lose fidelity. As I am the only one among us who will not actually trigger a window into another world by stepping in front of a looking glass, it would behoove you to stay where you are.”

“Got it,” said Velveteen. “Do your weird science thing.”

“My science is not weird,” said Victory Anna primly. “Improbable, perhaps. Arrogant, absolutely. But never weird. My science behaves with the appropriate poise and decorum at all times.” She continued walking until she was standing between the two mirrors in question.

She had no parallel selves to reflect; she had no other futures to explore. The mirrors rippled like they were trying to tune themselves to a new frequency before settling on a simple reflection. She smirked. “You see?” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “I defy their programming. Magic is just science with the safeties off, and everyone knows that safeties are why your hair isn’t currently on fire.”

Victory Anna turned her attention to the mirror with the door in its reflection, studying it for several moments before turning to look at the mirror on the opposite wall. Logic said that it should have been reflecting a reflection of a door, continuing the back-and-forth exchange of images that defined the hall of mirrors. Instead, it reflected her reflection, with no sign of a door.

“The door is in the mirror that reflects it,” she said, turning back to Velveteen. “Were it not, it would appear more than once. You may proceed to do whatever ridiculous thing you feel is appropriate.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” said Velveteen. She looked at Action Dude. “If you want to let go, now’s the time.”

“Nope,” he said. “I did that once. Worst decision I’ve ever made. I’m holding on from now on.”

Velveteen smiled a little and stepped through, Action Dude by her side. The world shattered into prisms of silver glitter around them, and was gone.

From the perspective of the three people still standing in the Hall, the two of them had disappeared completely. The mirror continued to reflect nothing but Victory Anna. She touched the surface experimentally, and grimaced as her fingers found only unyielding glass.

“Small problem, I’m afraid,” she said. “This style of travel only works for those whose cognates live beyond the glass.”

“Maybe it’s just because you’re alone,” said Polychrome, and took her free hand, offering her girlfriend an earnest smile. “I’ll take you through.”

“As you say, my Pol—but try not to be too upset if it doesn’t work. I want you back again. That means not becoming distracted by my absence.”

“I won’t, because you won’t be absent. You’ll be right by my side. You’ll see.” This sincere proclamation made, Polychrome turned and stepped through the mirror, pulling Victory Anna with her…or trying to. As her wrist vanished into the mirror, her fingers slipped out of Victory Anna’s, suddenly too slippery and intangible to be held.

Victory Anna sighed heavily. “Sometimes genius and perception are terrible burdens to be borne,” she said, turning to Jack. “Well? Scurry through, winter-girl, and keep my beloved safe. Her friends as well, I suppose. I may not be currently well-inclined toward either one of them, but she is the dearest star in my sky, and they are important to her.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” promised Jack, and stepped into the mirror, vanishing like the others.