“Are you really that sadistic, Mr. Pitter?  I get dragging me here at five in the morning if Noelle needs it, but waking me up three hours later?”

Hm. Seems like Coil is using a nickname for Dinah to make the truth of how he acquired her a bit less obvious.

That, or I wasn’t actually off the mark with there being another captive, but I’m far from sold on that.

The ‘nanny’ didn’t reply, instead stepping out of the way, to give Trickster a better view of Coil.  Trickster leaned out of the doorway to look his employer up and down, picked some sleep from the corner of his eye with his thumbnail.  “Damn it.  Okay.”

Hah!

“Thank you,” Coil replied, “I would like to speak with your friend, downstairs.  Past experience has suggested this works best if you act as an intermediary.”

Hm. Trickster being called in in the first place seems to suggest that he has a bit of a connection with “Noelle” that Mr. Pitter doesn’t quite have, but Coil doesn’t seem to have much trouble talking to Dinah directly. Maybe there is another captive in the containment facility.

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”

Oh, don’t worry. If it goes badly, it didn’t happen.

Mr. Pitter was one of those particular people who was both useful and bought with stronger things than currency.  He would ensure the Travelers were comfortable and well stocked.  More specifically, he would take care of Dinah, ensure any and all dosages were clean and properly administered, that the girl was kept in the best of health.

…but is that because Coil wants her to be healthy as a human being, or because he wants her to be intact and functional as a tool?

I’m thinking the latter.

All he had required was for his wife to disappear, the chaos and problems the woman had caused him discreetly sorting themselves out in the aftermath of her death.

Honestly? Good riddance.

He had gone from being a broken man to a person who was so unflinching in his duties that it had given even Coil pause.

“Wow, she was really fucking with him.”

“The vault door was placed just last night.  She was-” Mr. Pitter paused, “Agitated.  We had to call Trickster in to talk to her.  He’s here now.”

“She”? As in Dinah, or does Coil have another captive?

Coil didn’t have to walk far to get to her in the other reality, so I guess it’s Dinah.

So… we’ve had several mentions of the Travelers so far, including it being pointed out that the Travelers need something from Coil, and now Trickster is in the base. I have a feeling we’re going to learn what their deal is by the end of this Interlude.

“I’ll speak with them.”

“Yes sir.”

Like right now, maybe.

He didn’t like interacting with people, especially not subordinates as important as the Travelers or Undersiders, without the ability to create or banish the reality if the discussion didn’t go his way.

No wonder he ends up quite persuasive and charismatic.

Here, he was safe.  His other self was giving orders on movements, targets to attack, individuals to watch out for, informed by the night he had spent tracking the deployments and patrol patterns of the Protectorate and Wards.

In other words, if the talk with Trickster and Dinah doesn’t work out, he’s still been productive.

The other: “I wish to survey the base.  Captains, as you were.”

So we’ve got one reality where the captains are at the entrance, and one where they aren’t. One where Coil’s holding off on the strikes against the two E44s for a bit, and one where he’s starting that process.

Two groups traveling in separate directions.  One of his selves traveled with the troops, down the metal staircase to the lower level, the other moving in the other direction, across the metal walkway, the two employees hurrying to keep up with his long strides.

I feel like this chapter is going to take some mental gymnastics to keep things straight at a couple points. So far, though, Wildbow’s doing a good job of making it clear.

Also, I just thought of the first episode of season 2 of Rick and Morty, in which a single timeline fractures and Rick has to try to reunite the pieces. That’s represented by a split screen. I think if Worm were in a visual medium, that would be a good way to handle this chapter.

He eyed the base as it was developing.  The massive quantities of crates and boxes were being unpacked, bunk beds for soldiers on call, a fully equipped medical bay, stocks and facilities for the kitchens, innumerable weapons.  It was taking shape, fine details emerging where there had been only right angles and neatly organized stacks boxes.

Nice.

He owned the company that had built the underground shelters in Brockton Bay and neighboring cities.

Oh, huh. Well, that explains why the shelter Taylor visited reminded me of this base.

Hiding the details on his base in construction was a matter of intercepting information at the right time and place, paying with his own money rather than the city’s, controlling what was reported and to whom.  His pet’s powers had assured him that nobody would be noticing any disparity anytime soon. 

Pretty handy, that certainty.

“Good girl,” he spoke.

With that, he collapsed that world where he had stayed up all night, studying the news, following international business trends, tracking the details on his troops’ most minor operations – he helped ensure the success of the major ones with his power.

Oh… that’s pretty clever. Using a world without consequences to stay up and learn things (that should stay true to the other timeline for the most part) while getting plenty of rest in the timeline he intends to make the alpha. I love it.

The reality swiftly faded, leaving only the world where he had a full night’s sleep, ate a hearty breakfast, drove to the base with Creep.  Only the memories and knowledge remained.

If he does this regularly, he can stay about as caught up on things as he’d be if he was awake 24/7 as Coil. Sleep only keeps him from meaningfully acting on those things immediately unless necessary enough to sacrifice the night’s rest and risk questions about his whereabouts from his civilian family.

Standing before his employees and soldiers, he divided realities once more, leaving only a heartbeat between the erasure of one existence and the creation of another.

If I was onto something re: pseudo-immortality, this is probably a good habit to be in.

He often wondered if he really was creating the realities, or if it was solely in his perception, foretelling futures to the extent that they hinged on his actions.

I mean, it’s possible that the timelines happen anyway whenever he makes a choice, and he just has the power of essentially having his consciousness cover two of the timelines until he chooses not to. Dinah’s power implies a few things along this line, though it’s unclear whether the timelines she sees are actual realities or projections in her mind.

He’d asked his Tattletale, and she hadn’t had an answer for him.

Coil has a nasty habit of viewing people as his property, doesn’t he.

Creep directed the vehicle down the ramp and into the parking garage.  He stayed behind with the van as Coil departed.

Coil entered a doorway in the lowest, most secluded corner of the parking garage, entering a room with an electrical system behind a metal cage.  Opening the door to step into the cage, passing around behind the electrical box and passing through the concealed doorway there, he reached the heavy vault door that marked the entrance to his underground base.

Welcome home.

Even after he was inside, with two employees waiting to greet him, a contingent of his squad captains standing at the ready, he remained careful.  Back in the other reality, he stood from his computer, traveled into the room beside his own.

What’s he being careful about, though? Is he expecting that he might be attacked in here?

He paused in the doorway, staring at the girl who lay on the cot.  She was dressed in white, unmoving but for the rise and fall of her ribcage, her eyes open.

Dinah… you don’t sound like you’re doing so good. What’s up?

“It’s morning, pet.  You know what questions I ask you.”

“It’s morning?” she asked, head rising.  “I feel like I just had dinner.  Candy?”

She’s losing track of time… relatable, honestly, though I don’t think the reasons are anywhere near the same.

“No, pet.  It’s too early.  Now please answer my question.”

Petulant, she replied, “Zero point two five two percent chance there’s any problems here in the next hour.  Three point seven four four one percent chance there’s any problems before lunchtime.”

I suppose the second best alarm system is one that tells you the chances ahead of time.

(The best one is less probabilistic.)