"It looks like someone has another crush!" Blackout cooed in a mocking tune as he walked up to me.

"What?! How did you know? Damn, information travels quick around here!"

"I'm you, dumbass! Of course I would know immediately. So tell me, what is this girl's name?"

I bowed my head over the rail I leaned on and mumbled, "I don't know."

"Bah! You said that about the last girl, and I can't even talk about Nar--"

"Don't use that name!" I cut in. Relaxing, I turned back to look down the rail at the rippling waters, illuminated by the soft glow of the sun. "I really don't know her name. I remember the name she uses in the pseudoverse, but it's a little tough to remember exactly. Neo-something. And for the record, it's not really a crush, just a passing fancy."

"Sure," Blackout chimed. "Just like that Laurel chick."

I gasped. "How do you know her name?! Who told you?" My grip tightened on the rail, pressing an imprint of the bar into my hands. I glared at him with squinted eyes, blinded by the sunlight rebounding from the pavement.

"Dude, it's right there in your email box! All I had to do was pay attention while you were checking your email and look for anyone with a name that starts with an 'L' or an 'S'. It was so simple it's almost as if you made me do it!"

"Dammit. I wish you had more consideration for me," I grumbled, eyes drooping sleepily. I never get angry very long, and when I am angry, truly angry, I get sleepy. It must be some kind of emergency shutoff valve for me.

"Well anyway, do you think she'll hear what I just said?" Blackout asked.

"Probably. I just hope she remembers what I said the last time you and I met. I don't want her freaking out over my habit of being indirect," I sighed in retired exasperation.

"Man, this is indirectly indirect! This is so indirect it should be direct according to the laws of mathematics. The only way you could be less direct is if you had somebody else tell her what you think."

"Do you know how people see me here, in this exact unit of time? As a clump of words on a white page. Nothing more. Imagine how easy it is to alienate someone when you are no more than a bunch of words. I have to be careful about what I do and say or else I may scare her off, and I have a horrible habit of saying just the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time."

Blackout considered the situation for a time, watching birds swoop through nearby trees. I squinted against the sunlight, concentrating only on the sloshing waters below me. "Maybe you should write her a letter," Blackout finally concluded.

"Yeah, well maybe I already thought of that. It really isn't anything worth pursuing, though." Blackout raised his hand to gesture his explanation as he began to speak. "Not worth pursuing," I repeated with finality. He scuffed his feet on the ground and mumbled to himself.

"This conversation sucks, man," he grumbled slightly more audibly. I apologized, blaming the sun for making me grouchy. "What, are you some kind of goth? Do you like the dark over natural light?"

"I'm not a goth, it's just that my eyes lack so much pigment that they can't adjust to the light outside. It's hard for me to see, and then my eyes get all involuntarily squinty. Basically, it sucks for me any time a bright light reflects up off the ground. I've got sunglasses, but even they don't help all the time."

"Yeah, well, anyway, what's with this getting angry at me earlier? You're much more docile when you talk with anyone else."

"It was a bit unusual for me to burst out like that, but then it's also not in my nature to record the happenings of my pseudoverse in the first person, or to end sentences with a bunch of exclamation points." I looked sideways across the bright paved path lining the shore that extended off into the horizon. "Oh, hey! Someone heard us talking the last time we met," I added as the thought rolled into my mind.

"For reals? Was it that girl you wanted to meet?"

"Nah, don't know who she is, but I've already got her working for me. I was impressed she would agree to help me so quickly. Then again, I'm also helping her, so I guess it balances out." An itch dug around in my nose, forcing me to sneeze. "You know what? I'm pretty freakin' tired of it being too damn bright out here. I'm gonna do something about that." As I finished speaking, thin clouds rolled in from across the sea, churning and building up atop themselves as they drew nearer. "That's more like it," I said in satisfaction.

"We don't really have as much to talk about this time, do we?" He pondered on a topic to discuss. It is rare for the two of us to get together, so we try to make the best of our time. "How about this-- what are you doing right now in the real universe?"

"Oh, I suppose I'm sitting in a chair, typing a story. There are some things I do in between, like sleep, and eat, and email other people. By the way, that thing with Neo-whatever? It has already passed."

"That was quick."

"Well, I sent her an email, which she misinterpreted, so now the most I've done is made her angrier. It actually happened quite a few hours ago. The thing you must remember is that this conversation does not occur in real time, so many other things may happen in between just a few words."

Blackout watched the clouds boil overhead, turning the sharp, white glare of the sidewalk into a fuzzy, blue shadow. "You say you were typing just now?" he asked. I acknowledged. "So, you're typing about typing? Writing a story about guys who are pondering if they're in a story?"

"Stop where you are. I'm not going into that circular argument with you."

"Fine." We sat in silence for some time. Rain sprinkled down lightly, gradually growing in intensity. Little droplets speckled the sidewalk and created a nebula of ripples in the water of the bay. Blackout glanced about with disdain, asking, "Why do you like this kind of weather?"

"I guess it's because when I was younger, my dad would have us sit out on this large swing on the porch and we would watch showers pass by at night. And where we lived, there were quite a few showers that came by often. That's really only a guess, though. I don't know if that is the real reason." Soon it was raining thick enough that we began to seek out shelter, opting for cover under nearby trees. Blackout leaned against a knobby trunk covered in green moss to hide from the spraying rain. I found a cozy den formed by the large roots creating a pocket in the soil at the base of the trunk, so I ducked in there.

"If you're controlling this, why does it have to be so damn undesirable?" called Blackout from the opposite side of the tree. "I can understand a light sprinkle, but this is a little ridiculous."

I remained silent, enjoying the sound of rain falling on the stiff leaves that collected around the tree. In my shelter I was dry, so it did not matter to me what discomfort Blackout was having. He should be enjoying this too, I thought smugly. He's just messing with me again. He barked a complaint at me again, much like a pathetic, wet dog whining at a door. I uttered my comparison to him, only adding to his anguish. To be kind to him I kept the wind blowing in one general direction, not like the winds of Texas that will shift in completely opposite directions, despite the laws of physics, to optimize the stress they cause. Outside of the pseudoverse I know of only one other way to control the weather, and that is to have a picnic. You will find the absolute most horrible weather conditions take a sick leave until they know a picnic is being held. What's worse is that the wind trains itself to blow across the napkin stand on the table, but avoid anything like a kite or an outdoor grill. I suppose other parts of the nation recognize Texas for its dust devils, little tornadoes that stand no more than eight feet tall. They really should be called trash-in-your-face devils. "And that's another thing, why does the majority of the nation think we're all cowboys?"

"What?" Blackout asked, puzzled by my outburst.

I looked in his direction, though I could not see him through the wall of dirt and roots. "Yeah, it really isn't all that fair. I think there are more cowboys living in New York than in the entire lower half of the world, but Texas is the only place that is supposed to have cowboys, and people think Texas is made up entirely of them."

"Hey, yo! If you're gonna be gloomy all day, no matter what, I'm leaving," came Blackout's muffled voice through the earthen wall. I stood up and dusted myself off, walking around to see him. The rain ceased, and the clouds hesitantly pulled themselves apart to reveal a blue sky.

"You're right. Well, the sun is coming out again, so I guess I'll be leaving now." I made my way through the damp copse, cautiously walking over the slippery leaves. From far off Blackout asked if we would meet at the same place next week, his voice growing fainter with each word. "Sure," I called over my shoulder. I don't think he heard me, but that is fine. He knew the answer before he asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arg! It is late at night, and I am sorely deprived of sleep. If this chapter sounds bad or pointless, well, it was never intended to be much more. By the way, "For reals" was not misspelled, and neither was "Hey, yo." Just wanted to clarify.