Cordelia PrequelI always thought that freedom beyond what I could find within my own mind was beyond the possible. Now it seems possible, but there are so many unknowns. I don't actually know where I am or if it's truly on another world as the blond woman said. She had the air of a master toying with a slave, so her words are highly suspect. If I'm not on another world, I won't live much longer, so I'll have to pretend that I'm sure I'm elsewhere. Anything else would make me want to just curl up here under the apple trees.
I could take the blue apples as proof, but I see no reason why a mage who could make me as I am could not make apples blue or even create an entire orchard of trees that grow blue apples. I don't see the point of such an exercise, but that doesn't mean that there isn't one.
If I am on another world, I will have to hide from the woman who first showed me this place. I don't think she'd be pleased that I got back here on my own, and I don't think she'll like the idea of me trying to find my own path. Her offer was simply a change of masters. She might have treated me better, but... The promises of those who have power over us are lightly spoken and seldom kept. She didn't even offer anything except not to damage me then.
Perhaps she assumed that having no memories of freedom meant that I did not understand the concept or that there wasn't enough left to my mind and my will for me to want or to seek it. If so, her arrogance made her foolish. Why does she think the masters consider Trump artists so dangerous? Freedom of thought is necessary for what we do. That's why they fear us so and keep us so carefully watched. That's why we're kept apart from each other and reprogrammed for minor offenses that would be overlooked in most slaves.
She will look for me. Given how much she knew, I must assume that she knows of the tracking device. That means that getting rid of it has to be one of my first priorities. After that... I don't know. If I draw or paint, she may find me by that. What do free people do with their lives? Where does their food come from or their clothing?
I may, just may, have something that I wanted desperately, but I really have no idea what to do with it or how to survive with it. Having taken the step of running, I'd rather die than be enslaved again, but is that an option?
I could still go back. I have the sketch of my room and the Trump of Russell. I think he'd at least try to help me. At least I know the risks there, and once in a while I meet someone kind.
No, I can't go back. I don't know if I can face what's ahead, but I can't go back. She'd only come for me again, and I don't doubt her threat to have me reprogrammed so that she could get me to work for her. Besides, it's always been a matter of if and not when the masters would decide that I had become too dangerous, too knowledgeable.
I suppose I should be grateful. At least they'd reprogram me before forcing me back into slavery. Rebecca and Sophia don't have that. They'll both always know what they wanted to be and every step of how it was taken away. I never expected anything but what I had, but I think that Rebecca did and Sophia does. Still, I find myself thinking about the opportunities they have if they only recognized them. I wish... When I was Rebecca's age, I think I might have killed for even the small amount of freedom that she has. A disagreeable older husband might conveniently die, or-- Well, she doesn't have a tracer implanted in her leg to keep her from running.
I hope that the investigation doesn't reveal Russell's kindnesses to me. I don't know his father well enough to guess what punishments might ensue. Russell's a rarity. He understands and cares about the people around him. I suppose that's really why I took his Trump. He got me to start thinking of him as a friend. I've never been able to afford friends, but... I wish that that could continue. Maybe...
Well, I'll try calling him once. He's the only one who knew that I'd finished his Trump, so he's the only one who could tell. I should have taken all of them, I suppose, but I didn't think of it. All of the others are there, complete or incomplete. I don't know. Will they be spying on him? Will they be able to follow the contact to me if they are? If I can find supplies and a place to work, I will make Russell three Trumps, one of himself, one of his twin and one of me as I appear now. I think I owe him that much thanks.
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