JO-JO RASTEROVICH

 

Jo-Jo had never tried to reach out to the Entity before; it had always sought him. He wasn’t sure how to draw its attention, other than to demand.

Sole! Fuck you, Sole!

But Sole did not respond.

Desperate, he cast back to the occasions that Sole had spoken directly to him and tried to re-create the same division in his mind. He’d thought of it like sliced fruit, a kind of soft and slightly messy process. But this time he tried something different; this time he forcibly shrank his emotional centre into a tight and unreachable orb, leaving only the logic side of his brain functioning.

Sole entered the accessible side like a thrown spear.

<need?>

You cannot take this child.

<explain>

The reason came to Jo-Jo with startlingly simplistic clarity. Nova has been altered by the Post-Species. They oppose your existence. Their changes to her will damage you. It was always their intent to use her against you. And her mother.

The Entity withdrew a little while it considered his declaration. Perhaps it was running its own type of bifurcation analysis—performing a prognosis of its own future.

Jo-Jo’s dislocation from time and place was so complete he wasn’t sure how long he waited, nor did he care. What mattered was that Sole knew the veracity of his statement and left Nova and Mira alone.

<possible>

Probable, he countered.

<probable>

I am the one you should take.

<explain>

My life is yours anyway. You resurrected me. And you’ve altered my mind for your expediency. Perhaps I was the always the one you would take. Perhaps you knew that at the beginning.

<perhaps> Amusement and mimicry.

Jo-Jo kept the ball of his emotions fiercely contracted, not letting anything escape that might shake his resolve.

Agreed then?

<agreed. come>