Day 307 - All Borders Within Your Reach

 All Borders Within Your Reach

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Donnie hadn’t touched paper in months. No books, no notes, no cards, no letters. He paid a friend to help clean out his house and then he put his mail on hold.

Cold turkey.

No temptations.

Of course, that’s not really how things work. Donnie had the power of pen and ink. Crayon or marker. It wasn’t so much paper, but the physical act of writing something out and focusing on it while he did so. But Donnie didn’t know that at first. He thought he was doing the right thing. Making the effort. Trying really hard not to become a madman like The Historian. His life had been about simple scribbles and using paper to perform unexpected tricks. He had never thought too much about the large-scale implications. The Historian had changed all that. It was impossible to not thing about it in smaller terms now.

Donnie tried to do the right thing. He tried to stay away. But you find out sometimes that it’s impossible. He wrote in a tip on a screen. No pen, no paper. Just his finger against a touch screen pad. And that was enough. He could tell in an instant. The power he held in his hand. It was too much.

 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead? Didn’t you die?” asked Wyatt.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied Donnie.

“In a fire. In Taipei or Singapore or something like that.”

“No, not me.”

“Are you sure? A lot of libraries got torched. I thought you were in a battle with an Arsonist because of your secret book collection.”

Both men paused for a moment.

“The Historian wrote a lot of things.”

“Fuck you, Wyatt. And fuck whatever joke you’re trying to pull.”

Wyatt shut up, which left Donnie uneasy. Something wasn’t right and Wyatt seemed to be behind it or knew something about it. But it wasn’t like him to actually shut up so easily.

“Whatever, Don. You’re the one who called me. Seemed rather important when you did.”

“You ever heard of a mapmaker?”

“I’m assuming this is some sort of special mapmaker and you’re not just wasting my time with the basic tradesman sort of thing.”

“I am asking you, in all the years you’ve known me, other Librarians, Arsonists, the whole shebang, have you ever heard of, or thought about the implications of drawing something instead of writing it out.”

“You did something. God damn it. You madman, you did something. And I thought The Historian was a real piece of shit.”

“I didn’t… I… I figured something out. I didn’t mean to. I stopped writing. I threw out all my pens and pencils and paper. I did. I really did. But I learned it’s not in the paper or pen. It’s in the act of doing it.”

“Sure. I believe that.”

“Maybe the paper helps some of us focus. Or maybe that’s as far as they get.”

“But not. Not you, Donnie boy.”

“No. Not me.”

“Oh Donnie. Donnie Don Don Don. I think I love you right now. I mean, you might be a madman in the making and I might have to kill you eventually, but I think you’ve got something really good to tell me.”

“You ever wonder what would happen if someone drew a new line on a map? Would anyone remember what came before? Would history rewrite itself so that there was some reason to try and explain it? Would we all just blink and suddenly accept a new city or new state, or country? Or a new planet in the sky?”

“Jesus Christ, Donnie. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going to art school.”

“Not me. I mean, I had to test the theory a little, but I have no aspirations towards playing God.”

“I’m sure. Just a little. Just to see how it would feel?”

“Trust me, this isn’t about me. That’s why I’m telling you. This is bigger than all the Libraries and all The Historians and anyone else out there. It seems insane to believe I’m the first person to realize it doesn’t require paper and pen.”

“Insane is the right word.”

“So, what are we going to do about it?”

“Gather the old crew. Burn a few buildings. Crack a few heads. See what shakes loose.”

“And if I’m right about the potential?”

“Right? Or Write? If you’re right then we’re all already probably fucked. As if The Historian didn’t fuck us enough. If you’re right then everything and anything might already be a lie. If you’re right then nothing we say or do will really matter.”

“But we’re still gonna try?”

“Damn straight we are.”