Daeon asks, regarding Syd: "This has to be one of the family. Who was he really and when did you realise he was more than he seemed?"
I am told that here he goes by Random. I think I know what you mean by "more than he seemed," though that's not how I would've described it -- when I first met him, I recognized him immediately as a kindred spirit, so I think he already "seemed" more to me than other people. I didn't, however, realize the full extent of our kinship until very recently.
As to his powers and his origin: He started dropping hints, cryptically, about the nature of Shadow, and Amber, and the Pattern, a couple of months after we first met. It probably took me an additional few months to realize he wasn't speaking metaphorically. I still don't understand it all - and I don't know whether he tracked me down on purpose or whether he just happened to find me and recognize what I am, whatever that is.
Paige says, "So all your stories worth telling are centered on Uncle Random?" Paige pulls Folly aside where Martin can't hear as well. "For his sake, I won't ask you for the juicy bits, at least not now, but tell us a story..."
"Well...." Folly sits lost in thought for a moment, her face showing flashes of many different emotions -- mostly amusement -- as she remembers. "Perhaps you'd be interested in my first impressions of him, so I'll tell you the story of how we met.
"The university in Texorami has a great -- and unusually eclectic -- music department, and as a result, the lower-rent district a little west of campus has blossomed into a fairly substantial community of students, musicians, and artists. Thinkers and dreamers. I've been living there since I left home. One of the most popular hangouts for musicians is a student-run pub, the Furrowed Brew -- ha, ha. Most nights, they have some kind of music -- there's a low stage at one end of the bar -- and in particular, a drumming circle meets there once a week.
"Well, I'd had myself a day -- the kind that makes you want to beat on something 'til you bruise yourself, or shatter glass with your screams -- and I just wanted to borrow a drum and play 'til I fell over. The minute I set foot in the pub, without even looking at the stage, I knew someone new had joined the circle. Once you've been to a few of these things, you start to recognize the rhythm patterns most of the regulars tend to fall into. That night, though, I could feel this new pulse -- feel it in my chest, feel it in my crotch. It's not that Syd -- er, I mean, Random -- was playing louder than everyone else -- on the contrary, he was hanging back a little in volume, but something about what he was playing just seemed to reverberate inside me, like he'd hit my resonant frequency, or something. At first, the rhythms he tapped out seemed almost -- pardon the pun -- random, kind of weaving around the steady 4/4 everyone else was playing, but after a minute, I could feel where he was going with it. It was like he was drawing a picture of something so familiar that I could recognize it after the first few lines. I closed my eyes and started singing -- quietly, I thought, but after a while I noticed his pattern change subtly to pick up the new elements I was introducing. I lost all sense of time and place. Nothing else existed but the music. We built, and built, and I poured all the energy I'd wanted to use up in drumming into creating this pulsating, living, breathing song, 'til finally we reached a crashing, screaming climax. The whole place went nuts, clapping and shouting and... well, legend has it that some friends of mine conceived their first child in the men's washroom while all this was going on. It was that kind of music.
"By this time, I was standing in front of the stage, though I don't consciously remember walking there. I opened my eyes and got my first look at this new drummer. I guessed he was a few years older than me, maybe a student. He was wearing ripped jeans and no shoes, his shirt was unbuttoned down to about his navel, his hair was a mess, he was drenched with sweat, and he was staring at me with this little I-know-something-you-don't half-smile on his face, which I found strangely disconcerting. He has this way of looking at people that can be... innocent and lascivious at the same time, y'know? Friendly and inviting, but cocky. My kind of guy. I desperately wanted to say just the cleverest thing to him, but before I could come up with a good opener, he came over to me, looked deep into my eyes, and said, 'Tell me one thing about yourself that no one else knows.' Without even pausing to think, I blurted out, 'Sometimes at night I can smell other people's ghosts.' So much for clever.... But he nodded, like it all made sense. Just then, the manager came over and said that one of the bands that played the pub twice a month was breaking up because half the members were about to graduate, and would our band be interested in taking their place? Our band. Heh. Well, Syd said, we're between lineups ourselves, but we could probably recruit some new members in a few weeks, and then I jumped in and said Yeah, we've already got a lot of good leads, when would you need us to start? Suddenly we were a band, and we hadn't even properly introduced ourselves yet. It all seemed... inevitable. We stayed at the pub 'til it closed, talking, mostly about music but a little about everything, and then we went walking around the city 'til after sunrise, talking, flirting, laughing, singing... did I mention flirting?" Folly falls silent, smiling, lost in memory again.... "We ended up back at my place and fell asleep in the living room floor, listening to music. When I woke up, he'd gotten a shower and was wandering around the kitchen in my bathrobe, putting together a great breakfast from the weird odds and ends in the cupboard, like we'd known each other for years and did this all the time... and that was that. We were friends, we were lovers, we were bandmates, we were soulmates, just like that, until one day he disappeared just as suddenly...." She pauses for a moment, then adds, "...and I guess I've just done the same thing to my friends. I hope Soren thinks to check on my cat...."
Martin asks: "What would you have done had you found yourself pregnant by Syd, either before or after he left Texorami?"
Folly searches Martin's face for a long moment, trying to determine whether his question is motivated by bitterness, or sympathy, or simple curiosity. When she finally speaks, she seems to be choosing her words carefully. "That which is his is precious to me, and I would do everything in my power to protect it, to nurture it, whether he were there to help me or not. Had I gotten pregnant with his child... well, we'd have another little musician in the family by now. And if she'd been a girl, I probably would've named her 'Faith' -- as my father wanted to name me. I'll bet she'd've been beautiful -- and a real handful....
"I will say, though, that had I found out I was pregnant before he left, I might've gone a little more crazy after his departure. I probably would've assumed he was trying to get away from me, from the responsibilities of being a father, and that the 'family business' line he gave Soren was just some bullshit cover story. His leaving was hard enough on me as it was -- if I'd been pregnant, too, I might've snapped. On the other hand, if I'd been pregnant, I might not've gone to visit my parents that weekend, so maybe I would've gotten a proper goodbye, rather than just a 'Tell Folly I know where to find her' passed through a mutual friend....
"It's not like we had any sort of commitment to each other, but still.... One likes to think that those to whom one becomes attached share similar feelings...." She trails off, realizing she's strayed away from the original question. "Of course, maybe a pregnancy would've given me something to hold on to, to look forward to, during those dark months. I mean, wow! Syd's baby! My baby! How cool would that be? I... I think that I would've been OK with it. Happy, even, once the shock of it all had worn off...."
Q&A
Lucas asks: "Kind of two questions, but who are you dueling with in your vision cards, and why?"
That would be my mother. My adolescence was one long argument with her, 'til I finally got sick of it and moved out. She -- how can I put this charitably? -- she'd kind of lost control of her own life, so she thought she'd try controlling mine instead. It didn't work." Folly smiles. "We've kind of patched things up recently, but I still know better than to spend more than a few days at a time at her house...."
Lilly asks: "How would you compare yourself to your mother?"
Jovian follows: "The resemblence between you and your mother is uncanny, you know - in body and, I suspect, in spirit as well. How would you describe to a stranger the kind of person she is - and do you share so many daughters' dread of becoming their mother?"
We are two coins stamped from the same mold but spent in very different pursuits. I look so like a younger version of her that I am still mistaken for her from time to time, mostly by those who remember her as a twelve-year-old gymnast and don't realize she's now approaching sixty. We both throw ourselves into our pursuits with passion and tenacity. We're not afraid of shocking people in the interest of being who we are. We're not afraid of facing danger to get what we want. We've both been described as 'thrill-seekers', and I think that term eventually became true for Mum, but for me, I'm only pursuing the thrills as a means to an end.
For all our sameness, though, we are different in significant ways. Part of the difference comes from the trajectories of our lives. Mum was born in the tiny, poverty-stricken town of Winterness; by the age of ten, she was the world's sweetheart, a tiny gymnast winning medals and endorsement deals. She was fabulously wealthy and univerally adored -- and eventually she got so wrapped up in the fame and the glory that she forgot why she'd gotten into gymnastics in the first place. She became one of those people who's famous for being famous, who's used to getting whatever she wants.... She could be quite a terror, but she had so much charisma that her wild behavior was usually excused affectionately as youthful vivacity. I was born during those years, and when I think of Mum, her wild, temperamental years are usually what come to mind. She's mellowed a lot through middle age, though -- especially once Papa died and her therapist suggested she try painting as a way to get in touch with her feelings. It's like she's got a focus for her passion again, something she can do for her soul rather than for her ego.
"Me, I've been 'peripherally famous' since birth, as the child of a famous person. I was born in the bustling port city of Texorami, though, where even the famous can blend in to the crowd. I discovered my passion for music at a very young age, and I knew that if I wanted to, I could achieve a great deal of renown just by spitting out the crap that passed for pop music at that time. I think I have a special gift for sensing a feeling and rendering it as music, and I know I can manipulate a crowd with my music -- it's almost like I can tweak reality with a well-timed chord, if that makes any sense -- so I think I could've been writing the most popular pop music on the planet, if I'd wanted. But I'd picked up pretty quickly on the mistakes I saw Mum making, and I swore I wouldn't ever let my lifestyle get in the way of what I wanted to be doing. In that sense, to answer your question, Jovian, I definitely have dreaded becoming my mother. I've been more than content making my own 'niche music' to suit my own needs and desires -- it's what springs out of my soul unbidden, and I could contemplate it all day and all night trying to discover its source, because I know there's something important there, if I could only see it...." Folly trails off, lost in thought for nearly a minute. Then she looks up again, as if startled to see that there are still others present. "Where was I? Oh, yeah, so I've always just made my own music, and it's proven popular enough that I've always had a good solid base of hardcore fans willing to pay enough money to see me and whatever band I'm with that I've always been able to support myself comfortably and indulge some of my quirkier tastes, but I can also disappear when I need to.
"So, that's one source of the difference between me and Mum, and the one I feel most comfortable speculating about. Hell, everyone feels comfortable speculating about it -- magazines do stories on it in slow weeks, usually after Mum donates another big sum to charity. There's also the influence of Papa, who is very different from Mum, and from whom I learned the value of reflecting a moment before acting -- but I'll talk more about him a little later. And, of course, coursing through my veins is the blood of someone who is a complete stranger to me. I've never even asked Mum who he was, or what she remembers about him. When Papa was still alive, the question seemed somehow disrespectful to him -- and now that he's gone, Mum has seemed so much more fragile than she was before that I haven't had the heart to trouble her with ancient history.... Martin has been trying to fill me in since I got here, though, and... some things are starting to make a lot more sense to me...."
Q&A
Vere asks: "How did you learn that the man you thought was your father wasn't?"
I pieced it together, little by little, over time. Even as a very small child, I noticed that I was very like my mother in personality and appearance, and nothing like my father. By the time I learned where babies come from, I already knew that Mum had spent a lot of time in the company of other men, and that Papa had a sports injury that interfered with his fertility (this had been explained to me when I asked for a baby sister for my birthday). When I learned about Genetics in school and figured out that my blood type couldn't have come from Papa, it only verified what I already knew. He was still my father -- the only one I've ever known -- in all the ways that mattered, though.
Brita asks: "Did you get anything from this father who wasn't your true father?"
"Love, for starters, and much more kindness than I got from Mum. If he ever suspected I wasn't really his, he never let on. And at least at first, I'm nearly certain he didn't suspect -- he wanted to name me 'Faith'. Unlike Mum and me, he was more craftsman than artist, and he just didn't notice things the way we did. He took things much more at face value. He was the only person I knew who could look at a sky full of puffy clouds and see nothing but a 60% chance of rain. He was much older than Mum, and his days of sports fame had been cut short by his injury...." Folly looks about mischievously for a moment, then adds, "...and if you ever want to see a roomful of men squirm and clutch at themselves, I'd be happy to describe it...." Her eyes fall on Daeon, then, and she adds hastily, "...though I of course don't want to bring back painful memories for anyone...." She clears her throat and continues, "Anyhow, Papa'd had much more practice at living for others rather than just living for himself. I understand he was much more of a firebrand when he was younger, but by the time I was born, he was in his fifties, older and wiser. He'd become Mum's coach and manager when she was nine, and his whole life since then had been about her -- guiding her art, managing her career, buffering her temper. Had it not been for his example, my constant personality conflicts with her might've ended with much more destructive behavior on my part. He taught me patience and restraint -- at least enough that my whims rarely get me into more trouble than I can charm my way out of -- and a greater measure of respect for others than I'd learned from Mum, who during her wildest period didn't seem to believe than anyone else actually existed. He was good-hearted, very sweet, and he had these funny little rituals -- on my birthday he always made chocolate chip waffles with peanut butter ice cream, for instance. He didn't really understand my music at all -- he was terribly unmusical himself -- but when he travelled, he would always bring me back the most interesting musical instruments he could find. I still miss him."
Q&A
Ossian asks: "What kind of music did you [and Syd] play together?"
Our fans took to describing it as "bloodthunder," and that seems apt. The flavor of the music changed depending on what other instrumentalists joined us, but the overriding feeling was usually heavily percussive -- we usually had at least one other drummer or percussionist besides Syd -- and organic. Very improvisational, very alive. Syd would lay out a rhythm, and suddenly my head would be full of pictures that I would weave into words and music. I don't think we ever did a song the same way twice. Our two biggest hits were "Find Me Gone", which I wrote when I was fifteen, and "Stairway to Amber", which Syd taught me.
Reid asks: "What of yourself? What instruments and styles of music do you play?"
"My voice is my main instrument, but I dabble in anything I can lay my hands on. I was doing a lot of percussion for a while, and I had this wonderful set of found objects I was using -- empty bottles, a hollow duck decoy, sardine tins -- anything that sounded interesting when thwacked. Mum signed me up for a lot of music lessons when I was a kid, I think because she figured out it was the best way to keep me out of her hair, so I've had some training in piano, guitar, violin, cello, and flute. Of these, I probably most prefer piano and guitar, because playing them doesn't interfere with my singing.
"The style of music I most commonly play tends to be strongly rhythmic, and I prefer songs that use interesting meters. That's probably the result of hanging out with drummers for so long -- but also, I like to weave my music in a way that distills or evokes reality, and life rarely marches along in a regular, predictable way. At least, my life doesn't. Really, I like any music that evokes something -- a mood, an image, an era -- because it's like another piece of the puzzle. If I listen hard enough, I just know I'll be able to understand how music creates its own reality, just as reality creates music...."
Q&A
Solange asks: "How'd you get away with holding up convenience stores with your bodyguard? Didn't it get you arrested?"
"Oh, we weren't holding them up, though I'm sure the shopkeep feared that that was our intention. No, Soren took to carrying unconcealed weapons after an alarming encounter with a crazed fan. I've got this great scar..." Folly hikes up the back of her shirt to reveal a faint scar curving from her right shoulderblade to the middle of her back, "...or, at least, I had this great scar -- it's faded quite a bit...."
Aisling adds: "What would you have done, and how would you have felt about it, if the old man had suddenly pulled out a gun from behind the counter and the game had gotten serious?"
"In those sorts of situations, my innocent-looking face usually provides quite a bit of protection. A dear friend of mine with whom I used to play cards once accused me of 'abusing my cuteness' -- like dear Mum before me, I think I could get away with quite a bit as long as I did it with a smile on my face. It helps that I don't actually mean any harm, and I think anyone with any sort of intuition can sense that. In the worst-case scenario, I learned that I can usually use music to turn the tide in my favor. If I just start singing as though everything is all right, it usually is...."
Jerod asks: "You seem to enjoy the wild life. Ever screw up so badly you actually regretted it? And if so, how?"
"Well, as I think I alluded to in response to an earlier question, my wild ways serve a higher purpose. Every new experience is a new thread that I can weave into the pattern of my music, which is the pattern of my life. As such, I never really regret anything.
"To my knowledge, the worst thing that ever happened as a direct result of something I did was that a couple of kids died of a drug overdose after one of our shows. Syd and I had just had a fantastic, blissful trip -- drug trip, I'd assumed at the time, but I understand now it was probably a trip through Shadow -- and I improvised a new verse in 'Stairway to Amber' about it. This group of kids had come to the show already high, and one of the girls who survived the subsequent overdose swore that during the song they could actually see the place I sang about shimmer into existence, and they knew they just had to get there. Since I'd hinted in the lyric that it was a drug trip, they'd filled themselves past the breaking point with everything they could find. I felt a terrible sorrow for those kids, but at the same time, I didn't feel a direct responsibility for what had happened. Their actions had been their choice, just as it would've been my choice, my responsibility, if I'd ever overdosed trying to get back to somewhere Syd had taken me. And I certainly would never filter the truth out of my music, even if I feared something else like that might happen.
"The scariest, most uncontrollable thing that ever happened to me... well, that's the story of how I got that scar. That was a couple of years after Syd took off. We'd never had problems like that when he was still around.... I used to think the world just seemed more dangerous with him away, because of how safe and real and right everything seemed with him there. With what I've learned about Amber's recent history, though, I'm starting to believe the world actually did get more dangerous after that.... Anyhow, this guy showed up at one of our shows and hung out afterward to meet the band. He creeped me out immediately. For starters, he was a lot older than our typical fans -- which in itself was not a bad or scary thing, we certainly were used to seeing older people at our shows -- but he seemed... out-of-place. I just had this overwhelming sense that he wasn't supposed to be there. At first he wasn't doing anything threatening, just sitting at his table, staring at me, while the guys packed up the equipment and I signed autographs and chatted with fans. I remember this girl had brought her infant daughter -- the girl had been named Brij, after my Mum, and she'd named her daughter Folly -- and isn't that interesting, I'd said, we've got a lot in common, we should talk more, would you be a dear and run down the street to the Lark and Starling and get us all a table before it gets too crowded? I just knew I had to get her out of there.... And then this guy gets up and I do my usual thing, playing it cool, singing a song to soothe the savage beast... and it doesn't even seem to register with him. I'd just gotten Soren's attention when the guy starts reciting what sounds like the lyrics to 'Stairway to Amber', except his version was 'Black Road to Amber' -- and I turned around and ran. I don't think I'd gone more than two steps before I felt the blade swipe my back -- and oh, god, it hurt like you wouldn't believe! -- and then I heard the crack of Soren breaking the guy's neck. I passed out after that and woke up maybe three hours later. We cancelled a bunch of tour dates and I stayed in bed for three weeks, pleading with the ceiling to bring Syd back.... The first thing I did when I snapped out of it was to track down an address for Brij and Folly, and send Folly a little red violin with a scroll carved to look like a swan's head. I just wanted everything to be... beautiful again. Again, though, that story is not really something I regret, because I don't think I would do anything different if I had to do it over again....
"I really want to end on a happier note, though, and I suspect from the tone of your question that you'd just love to hear a story about me being wild and reckless, so I'll also tell you one other thing which I definitely don't regret. The most reckless thing I ever did, from the standpoint of complete disregard for my own personal safety, was: having sex in a glider, over the ocean, at night, while high on 'shrooms. We actually did get arrested after that, for indecent exposure, because we'd managed to lose our clothes off the glider in the process. It was totally, totally worth it, though...."
Marius asks: "You seem to march towards a suitcase when the rules tend to not bend to your liking. Do you fear authority or merely loathe it?"
"It's not authority I loathe, per se. Rather, I loathe superstition, arrogance, and fear masquerading as authority. If the rules have meaning and substance behind them, I will follow them, in my way. If the only foundation of the rules is, 'Because that's the way it's done...' well, my first inclination is to prove you wrong by doing it a different way. Even worse is if the foundation of the rules is, 'Because I said so.' Yeah, well, why should I trust your way more than I trust my own, particularly if I've already seen time and time again that your way doesn't work?" Folly's voice remains reasonably calm as she speaks, but she is ripping a large hole into the hem of her sweater. "In retrospect, it's amazing I only got kicked out of school twice. I got lucky, I think -- I had a lot of teachers who were willing to demonstrate their own mastery of their subjects by letting me argue with them at length about it, and who were OK with letting me solve problems in my own way. Every now and then I got one who completely lacked imagination, who taught straight out of the book and wouldn't accept any other way of doing things. That's where I got into trouble, because I just needed to make them see that what they were doing only scratched the surface of possibility.... Blind adherence to a second-rate method -- that, I definitely loathe. If you can show me your vision, demonstrate that you can see more than just what's obvious..." Folly's eyes dart in Random's direction for a split second, "...well, I won't say that I'll follow you unquestioningly, but at least that's the kind of authority I can accept. I'm not a troublemaker just to be a troublemaker. I'm a troublemaker because sometimes you have to shake things up to see what's inside...."
Brennan asks: "Folly, the picture of your life until now is an epitome of youthful exuberance and vitality. Though you know now that you will not grow old in the span of your imagination, at one point you believed you would have. What thoughts, if any, did you have for the future and your old age? How has your perspective on that changed with your new knowledge?"
"Well, actually," Folly says, sounding a little surprised, "now that you mention it, I'm not sure I ever have thought much about growing old. In the first place, I think being 'old' has a lot to do with one's state of mind, and I've always known I'd try to hold onto my 'youthful exuberance' for as long as possible. In the second place, I was always trying to cram so many interesting experiences into my life that I think I assumed I'd just crash and burn one day, dying young in some spectacular accident. I never really dwelled on it, though. I've never thought much farther into the future than my next gig....
"Now, though.... Well, all those experiences I was trying to cram into my life back home were about trying to understand this nagging feeling that none of it was real. Now that I have a much clearer path to that understanding, and lifetimes in which to pursue it, I find that I want to make definite plans for achieving it. Finding out I'll be young for practically forever may be what it takes to makes me finally grow up...."
Robin asks: "After you've walked the Pattern, created the ripples out into Shadow, lived in worlds created by the blending of your dreams and nightmares with those of your family. How then will you define hallucination and reality?"
Folly smiles wryly. "Y'know, I've had a lot of my questions answered recently with, 'Well, you'll understand it after you've walked the Pattern'. And maybe that's the answer to your question, too: maybe I'll come away from my Patternwalk with some deep metaphysical intuition about how to define reality, or how to recognize it. Maybe it'll just be obvious, what's real and what isn't."
She pauses, and her smile grows softer. "But on the other hand, it sort of already is. I know 'real' by where my heart leads me, again and again. I recognized it in the guy in that Vision Card, even if I didn't understand what I was seeing at the time. I see it in the people that I love -- even the ones who are so-called 'Shadows'.
"Because that's the thing -- we do make our own reality, whether we've walked the Pattern or not. I've said as much to Jerod. It grows out of what we hope for, where we direct our energies, how we treat the people around us. The filters through which we choose to view our incomplete picture of all existence. And I think our minds can play tricks on us -- so I have to trust my heart to know the difference." Q&A