What ghosts are made out of.  Sometimes they produce amounts of it that can be nondestructively separated from their 'body', such as by crying, or through a ritual on this other page.

(But one of the listed variations is "Whole Ectoplasm: that from an entire Ghost.")

...probably some people are dead because they wanted to be dead and maybe they find ghosthood an unpleasant surprise?? Does this end the ghost or do they pop up again.

It doesn't specify here.

Well. He finishes the chapter and leans back in the chair.

Any questions?

"Do you happen to know if Whole Ectoplasm is" vegetarian "doubly fatal?"

Yeah.

He makes a note of that. "Definitely no secret additional layer of ghosts?"

The shoulders of the jacket move in either a sharpish sigh or a small, single laugh. 

I've seen no sign of one.

We are cutting down on the snark over here so Cam doesn't say anything.

I mostly hope there isn't.  It's been bad enough hanging out here with all my books for not even a decade.  I really don't want to have to see what happens a million years after the sun envelopes the Earth or whatever.

Maybe unless we convert all society into ghosts first.  We'll see.

"Are people who die old still infirm?"

Thoughtful tap-tap-tap...

I think not the way you mean it.  It doesn't hurt, right, for my dad to have an axe in his face.  We don't hurt, on our own.  But things still impair us in obvious ways.  If I'd died before my broken arm healed, it wouldn't hurt to use it but it'd be kind of wiggly and not as stable as the other one.

"So cataracts and wobbliness and stuff are still bad."

Cataracts moreso than wobbliness.

The jacket glides to be rather more than a little taller than Cam, at the shoulder.  It stays up there to write, in significantly worse handwriting,

ι十`s   ħo +   լ|кc ш୧ '/e  ப ട

It descends.

It's not like we're using our bodies to interact with the world much.  Although apparently telekinesis is a lot better at slamming doors than writing.  Maybe if I practiced.  Or was closer.

"Can you, like, fly, I just realized that might be an implication of being able to navigate underground at all."

I already said that I could.

The papers shuffle themselves around until the relevant page is on top.

"Ah, so you did."

It's fine.  But it would be a lot better if I had more than a yard.

"How fast can you get?"

I can get from one corner to the other and be accelerating the whole time.  I don't have numbers.
(Underground corner to opposite air corner)

"Huh, it's sort of weird to me that you have to accelerate like a physical object would."

Jacket shrug.

Cam taps his fingers on the book, still open to the last page of ingredients, then pushes it away from him to reposition the notebook more conveniently. He goes over their conversation to date and extracts the facts to mark down in small neat handwriting.

The jacket goes and lies on the bed after a minute.  Floating, to get there, rather than climbing on.