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"Mm-hm. I not yet old for wishes enough so not having any even triangle wishes when going lost."

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Sally nods sympathetically.

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"So only having safes and brainphone. Not even gem for Jane. When finding me they fix, I bet."

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Sally nods again, understanding absolutely nothing.

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"Probably Shell Bell find me or something. Or a one Daddy go here freecasting. But doors do time thing. So maybe taking whiles."

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Sally nods. That seems to be working.
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"You humoring me," accuses Pen. "Don't care what saying so don't ask for more phrase."
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"I'm sorry. It's just- I don't know a lot of the words you're using. But asking for explanations just trips people up a lot of the time, and Ari can probably explain it better than- Ari knows me better, and he can explain later. And he seems to understand you."

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"Is not wrong words is - is -" Pen brings her hands up to her hair and clenches them, tugging on curls in frustration. "Is - not doing of grammar -" She lets her hair go and whirls around, wings almost whistling against the air, and slaps her hand on the whiteboard wall.

Radiating outward from her hand, like ink spreading on a selectively waxed surface, is perfectly tidy English text neatly organized into paragraphs.

Pen pulls her hand from the wall; her skin hasn't picked up any smudges.

She blinks at the paragraphs.
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"Um."
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"Oh!" says Pen. "Ingot." And then she cranes her neck to see the first lines and nods to herself. "Read," she suggests to Sally.

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Sally reads.

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There exist a large number of worlds. Sometimes, people have alternate versions of themselves in other worlds. My parents both have a bunch of "alts", and alts of my mother in particular coordinate with each other and share magic in order to do things. My three older sisters also have a few alts with instances of our parent templates as parents, although I'm fourth and there is only one of me because no other pairs of these people have had four children. My mother is a "Bell" and my father is a "Joker".

The most everyday magic for most of these people is wishcoins. I don't have any with me, but I have several magical wards that were placed with wishes and second-tier access to the "brainphone" telepathic network. If it had been anticipated that I might get lost like this I would also have a gem with an instantaneous wireless connection between it and the central computing power of a computer-person named Jane, who has the ability to transport people and things between any locations she can see. She would have been able to bring me home, probably after dropping an anchor into this world so the Bells could find it later and its rate of time would continue to go by at the same rate as theirs. After this is cleared up I expect to get a gem, and for other children of people who know that Milliways exists to also get gems.

I got lost through an interworld hub-and-bar called Milliways, which, while usually very safe and convenient, had nothing stopping me from mistakenly going out its door while it had not yet completely closed after a departing patron from this world. Normally leaving the bar would have put me when and where I left, instead of here. It is likely that my retrieval will be delayed, or even prevented until I find another door, by the time effect that allows that; but if I
am noticed missing because time passes in my home world without me in it, the likely ways that I will be fetched include one of my mother's alts with power over Milliways's door to walk here after me and then find me with magic, or for my father or one of his alts to use their template-common power "freecasting" to teleport straight to me (wished teleportation powers only work within single worlds or sheaves).

Samaria has an Earth in its history. It and stuff on it were named by very religious people. I'm a genetically engineered angel, like my mother.


Pen is hugging herself and hopping up and down as she reads this.
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"Interesting! And very well-put. Any explanation forthcoming on how you did that?"

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Nobody has ever told Pen that she said something well-put in her life unless they were making fun of her. She cackles.

Pen has been in this apartment long enough to see the whiteboard used. She grabs the eraser, erases a bunch of her writing (she can't reach it all) and swats the empty space.

People whose parents have manufactured a lot of wishcoins are typically born with an innate magic power that sometimes tends to take a while to manifest. People with powers like that are called ingots. This is apparently my ingot power! I like it.
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"It does seem quite useful. I couldn't have put any of that that well, and I'd like to see Ari try. And I'm glad you like it; it'd be pretty unpleasant to be stuck with powers you don't like."

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Erase erase swat!

My parents never tried to fix my grammar problem with magic because they weren't sure if I'd grow out of it and they didn't know how it worked so they worried about messing up my brain somehow. But now I can do this and it all comes out just right really easily!
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"It's good that it worked out this way! I know I'd like to be able to communicate exactly what I meant without tripping over myself, I used to have an awful time of it. I don't know that I'd want that if there were other powers on offer, but I just dealt with it by getting a speech coach, so it was never as much of a problem as it seems to have been for you."

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Erase swat. When I'm older I'll have wishes to do whatever else I want but if wishes would have fixed my grammar problem they would probably have done it already. What was wrong with your speech?

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"I used to say things before I knew what I was saying with them, so I'd stammer and never get anything out. Nowadays I'm very careful about the words I use, and I think out my sentences before I say them. And I sound very refined as a bonus. I have to talk pretty slowly for it to work right, though."

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Pen nods. And then she looks at the hand she has been swatting the wall with and jumps up and down and cackles some more.

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Sally deposits her bag in an armchair and starts taking things out of it. Included in the things is a human skull with walnut-sized black diamonds in the eye sockets, which she polishes with her sleeve and places on a nearby shelf.

She eyes it critically. "Too much?"
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"Ugly," opines Pen.

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She sighs. "I'm afraid you're right. But it's so useful when there's poltergeists around to have something that can devour them... I could give it to Peter, but we're trying to wean him off necromancy, and it's not like he needs any help. Maybe I'll just shove it in the closet and take it out when we need to go ghostbusting."

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Erase erase swat. How does it eat poltergeists and what is a poltergeist? Who's Peter?

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