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James and Sirius, for today an accountant and a dentist, respectively, put the finishing touches on the Haunted Mansion (they had started the night before, and upon finding that in the morning their changes were still there, they had been quite pleased and finished up). Now that the room where the ceiling rose was magicked so that everyone would fit in it and still have plenty of space to move. On top of that, they had magically rewired the loudspeakers to the room, put up some spooky decorations, and even completed it with fake, scary looking ghosts (they had both been quite disappointed in the morning to discover that some of their ruder decorations, including hot, naked ghosts, were removed).

Then, James began to write the letters, and started some music.

Crowley,

We're throwing a party at the Haunted Mansion. Do you think you could provide refreshments? Feel free to come as well.

- James Potter and Sirius Black

Then, identical letters were sent out to everyone in the park.

Hey,

There will be a Halloween party at the Haunted Mansion in New Orlean's Square. Come around and have a great time. Also, if you have drinks or food that you want to bring to share, feel free.

- James Potter and Sirius Black

On the bottom of the paper, there's a witch flying on a broom, actually moving around on the paper.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Of course, sometimes fear is a reasonable response," she pointed out. "Not to your Culture's interference, of course, as I understand you're acting with the best intentions possible, but the events which cause really major shifts in one's perceptions aren't always created by good intentions. And even when they are," (as with a god falling in love with a mortal) "there's no guarantee they'll turn out well."

"Quite so," the drone replied, and was suddenly very annoyed that it found itself agreeing with the goddess. "You sound as if you speak from a certain amount of experience," it said, deciding now would be a good time to flip the discussion around a bit.

"I wasn't always a goddess," she said simply. "There are a great many stories and proverbs about what tends to happen when gods and mortals meddle in each other's business. In my case, it all turned out well in the end, but fear - while a very reasonable response to my situation - nearly destroyed me."

When it had first met Psyche, Skaffen-Amtiskaw had perhaps suffered slightly for not knowing very much about Greek mythology (the Culture being largely concerned with the trends of the time period in which it had taken its observations, namely the late twentieth century CE). It still hadn't filled in this gap of knowledge, and now, much against its better judgement, it was curious. "Indeed? Tell me more, then," it said.

It drifted down a few centimetres. This, for the drone, was a major concession.

Psyche looked slightly amused. "Do you want the full story, or an abbreviated version?"

"How about 'the version that you think would make your point most effectively'? It need not be the full story for now."

Possibly this was Skaffen-Amtiskaw's idea of a joke.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "you might call it one of humanity's 'asking questions will get you into trouble' stories. I'm sure you've come across the pattern - perfect happiness is granted with only one condition, one forbidden mystery. And of course curiosity gets the better of the silly heroine, who has to spend the rest of the story trying to make things right."

"I didn't know, you see, who or what my husband was. I was told I was to be sacrificed - the Oracle had told my parents I was to be given as bride to a winged monster who neither god nor man could withstand. Finding myself scooped up by the wind and taken to a palace full of invisible servants was certainly better than being devoured by a dragon or any of the other horrible fates I was anticipating, but it was still...disconcerting."

There were so many pear-shaped things about this story that Skaffen-Amtiskaw didn't even know where to begin. In a way, it was almost charming, the story so old and full of fairy-tale tropes. It could have been understood in metaphorical terms as well, or as one of those mythifications of actual historical events (see also Amaterasu, role in origin of Japanese royal family, among many other examples across the galaxy). But here this person (admittedly a person with butterfly wings and a biological scan that made no known sense) was talking about this as if it had actually happened to her --

If the drone had a head, it'd be hurting a lot now.

"I see," it said out loud. "And where does fear enter into it?"

"Fear was there all along," she said sadly. "I'd been sure something terrible was coming, even before I'd been told I had to be sacrificed. And then my husband came to me, but only at night. And he told me he loved me, and laid with me all night, every night, and I was...so happy, but so terrified. Because he told me I must never try to see him in the light."

She'd set the tub of apples down at her feet a minute ago, but she picked one up now and rolled it between her hands. "That was the condition. And I broke it. My sisters are always cast as the villains for telling me I had to see, for giving me the lamp and telling me he was a monster, that neither I nor the child I carried would be safe until I knew, but...I cannot imagine I could have gone on forever being blissful in ignorance."

"I suppose," she added ruefully, looking up at Skaffen-Amtiskaw, "you would call that a very badly handled example of contact."

The drone's aura flashed pink, ever so briefly. It was the equivalent of an appreciative snerk.

The archetype and story structure was familiar, of course: the condition which is then broken, and then the heroine has to prove herself, et cetera ad infinitum and oh so primitive (and more than a bit patriarchal). But that just wasn't logical, even if the girl's reactions were entirely psychologically credible, at least in her telling. So Skaffen-Amtiskaw tried to treat it in those terms. It was the easiest way to keep from apoplexy, or the drone equivalent thereof.

"Badly handled indeed," it agreed. "Arbitrary conditions are always asking for trouble, of course. Surely your husband must have realised this...?"

((I fail so hard. >.< Sorry for letting this fall through the cracks.))

"Well...it's sometimes hard, even for me, even after all this time, to understand the way he thinks. But he did say that it was because he preferred me to love him as an equal, not adore him as a god. (Er, he left off that the latter part at the time, of course.) And you know, there really is something in all those stories about mortals not being able to look on the true face of a god without being destroyed. Some people find me frightening."

"Gods", the drone knew, were quite often highly advanced beings who thought it would be fun to mess around with primitive civilisations -- do a few tricks, corner the market on whatever valuable resources were available, and then move along as soon as they'd gotten bored. There'd been at least one case of a renegade Mind that had done that, centuries upon centuries ago, when Contact was still developing its protocols. That had gotten messy before it was all over.

If the drone could have convinced itself that this girl was such a being, along with the other "gods" of which she spoke, it would have felt marginally better about her. Except that didn't completely square with the narrative, did it? Nor with the incredibly aberrant readings it had picked up from her, nor with her apparently unshakeable conviction of her own reality and experience.

The whole business really pissed Skaffen-Amtiskaw off, frankly.

Its aura colour went a deeper grey and took on a slightly metallic sheen. "You, frightening? Can't imagine why. Seems like you've designed yourself to have exactly the opposite effect."

"Designed...? Oh, this is just how I looked when I was human. Well, with the addition of the wings, of course, but those just sort of...happened."

((Whoops, accidental delete, there.))

"Really." Oh, grief, what was it with all this impossible shite? "Not your choice? Or did someone else decide that when they ... changed you?"

She shook her head ruefully. "I think they're best explained as a sort of metaphor made flesh. (Well, sort of flesh, anyway.) I don't think Zeus had anything in particular in mind when he gave me my divinity...well, he said he didn't at the time, and looked rather surprised, though of course now he claims he knew exactly what my Office and Aspect would be. But you might say it's a pun on my name. In Greek, you know, psyche means 'soul' and 'butterfly.'"

"It fascinates me that your kind are fond of silly puns and wordplay. How very human, really."

It wasn't touching the "metaphor made flesh" thing with a fifty-foot pole.

"Well, the two facts are not unconnected. I mean, we are at least in some sense inspired by human understanding."

Really very much despite itself, the drone was curious about this logic.

"Is it an 'if you didn't exist, humanity would have to invent you' sort of thing? An extremely elaborate chicken-and-egg problem?"

"Something like that. It's been suggested, in fact, that we're formed and powered by belief. I know of at least one other universe where it does work that way. Which does lead interesting directions in regard to the world's creation. At least, I think they're interesting. Most of the rest of the pantheon just shrugs, although Hermes humors me a little now and then."

If the drone had a nose and fingers, it'd be pinching the bridge of said nose and wincing hard. The metallic sheen of its aura grew even more marked.

"Do you have any idea," it said wearily, "of just how little logical sense all of this makes?"

"Oh, I don't know that logic has much to say to it either way," she said cheerfully. "Science, now: based on what you've mentioned of your Culture's technology, you're well ahead of any science I'm familiar with...and admittedly, when I'm only using my own head, I'm not too well-versed in science and higher math. The consequences of forming habits of thought before such things were invented. But we did have logic when I was young. And I never thought it intrinsically incompatible with mystery."

"Oh, there's certainly mystery inherent in science," the drone replied. "Even the most determinedly rational Culture citizen will concede that -- science can only go so far to explain the vagaries of sentient thought, emotion, and what have you. However," and here it closed a bit of distance between itself and Psyche, "even the mystery of science doesn't allow for what you are."

Psyche looked mild as the drone pulled closer. "Well, I'm afraid I'm not terribly likely to stop existing simply to oblige your ideas about the universe. Isn't the scientific method about changing theory to square with facts?"

"I said nothing about anyone ceasing to exist," the drone said, sounding a little miffed. "And you are correct about the scientific method, of course, but the method has its limits in dealing with such blatantly unscientific things as this place. And I do so resent having to file entire classrles of phenomena under the heading of 'it's magic'. I expect you will consider that a character flaw."

"Oh - not really," she said. "You know, you needn't call it 'magic.' It's a useful word for some of us, but inexact. What does seem a...I wouldn't say character flaw, but perhaps a mistake? ...is resenting those of us who have inexplicable traits. It seems a misattribution of blame, and unlikely to be helpful to you in the long run."