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The Roebling Wire Works is an historic building in downtown Trenton which has become the home of the Trenton Punk Rock Flea Market -- and the PRFM is the cover for the East Edge Market, a traveling Market which visits every two months, right when the PRFM does.
Walk through the mundane market, past the displays of taxidermy and soap, punk t-shirts and cassettes, patches and pins, step over the rope that closes off the ramp to the indoor/handicapped bathroom, and walk past the slender Fairest guarding the doorway. An expenditure of Glamour, whistle or hum a couple bars of 'I wanna be sedated' (you ever wonder why they play that song so many times at the punk rock flea markets, well... ) and step through not into the bathroom supply closet but the East Edge Market.
Hob guards built like tiny balls of gears roll around the grounds, bristling occasionally if someone gets too close. The vardos and tents back up to one another, a tight little maze of booths and options.
It's late afternoon, the sun laying gentle and butter-yellow across the market, the temperature in the mild mid-sixties with only a little breath of wind.
Sage's neon blues flicker slightly as they walk out of the PRFM and into the East Edge Market - in fact, they've been a bit more flickery than usual for a bit, now. But they do take a moment to appreciate the sun, and the heat, and the Spring that finally seems to be arriving.
That moment over, they hitch their tote bag ('Plant Parent' in block letters, surrounded by vines - they may have bought it at the PRFM, honestly -) higher on their shoulder and go in search of one Gloop.
The Gloop has a standard place in the Market -- it's been there as long as anyone can remember (or says they can remember, anyway). The little vardo sits with its sides open, exposing the glass column of the Gloop itself to view. Slowly-circling colors gently change, shimmering through spectrum upon spectrum, and the Gloop's paired eyes gently tumble, not particularly focusing on anything.
"Ah. Hm. Hello...?" Sage steps in front of the vardo, within view of the Gloop's eyes. "You're the Gloop, right?" They're asking to be polite, clearly, as they nod their head in greeting and pick at the cuffs of their loose cotton blouse. "I was told you deal in...information? Or memories?"
Those eyes spin up into place, bubbling about a third of the way down the tank. They sort of drift up and down in the tank just a little bit, asynchronously -- it makes eye contact difficult.
"MmmmHhhmmm! Yes, we are," agrees the Gloop. The words literally bubble up from the gloopy body itself, bubbles of air which bring individual words or short phrases to the top of the tank, the words drifting out as the bubbles pop at the surface. Its attendant, a small hob shaped like a bipedal lizard, sits at the base of the glass container. "And yes, yes we do. How may we assist you with information and memories wanted or unwanted?"
"Well, I..." Sage takes a breath. "I seem to have forgotten some key pieces of the...beginnings of my escape, from..." they gesture vaguely Over There. "There were others with me, I...can't remember who they are. I think I'd like to."
The Gloop's eyeballs float in synchrony for just a moment, and rise up a little bit in the column of goo. "Interesting," it burbles curiously, and the colors switch to peaches and golds, shimmering through that column. "I can search for the memories, though I cannot guarantee I will find them. In exchange for the search, I will take one secret. If I find the memory and can retrieve it, I will exchange one memory of your choice for its retrieval. A moment of true happiness."
Sage's neon pales and flickers when the Gloop mentions true happiness, like they've already found the most painful memory to exchange. "I..." they take a slow breath. "Those terms are acceptable. Does the secret need to be spoken aloud, or...how does this work...?"
"I will take it during the search," answers the Gloop, each word puffing up out of its goopy self. The attendant rises silently, grabs a little stepstool, and steps up onto it. They remove the lid sitting on the column of glass, and the Gloop manages -- somehow -- to blink. Don't think about it too much. The Gloop rises out of the column and stretches across the space, the eyes sliding down to rest in the bottom of its container. "This may feel a little bit cold." And it stretches directly toward Sage's face.
"Alright." Sage nods, and watches warily as the Gloop stretches out of the container and toward their face, taking another slow breath. Their feet shift, like they're working hard not to step away, and finally they close their eyes tight, trembling slightly in nervous anticipation.
"Keep the secret in the front of your mind," the Gloop whispers. Somehow, it whispers. Closing her eyes doesn't ... do much. The gloop closes over her head, and it is, in fact, cold. Cold, slick, and invasive. It runs up her nose, in through her tear ducts, and into her ears. It fills her sinuses and somehow seems to wrap around her brain ever-so-gently. (It still feels really really fucked up. No one wants to have their brain touched.)
It lasts just long enough for her to feel like she's drowning, and then snaps back out of her head, leaving her feeling... dizzy. And somehow like she just took a Super Sudafed, her sinuses and eyes feeling... a little too clean.
The Gloop slides back into the column, and there's a fluttering sort of sound. "I can find ... some sorts of edges of memories," it admits, the voice a little regretful, almost. "I think this memory has been lost. An Icon, perhaps. I cannot find what is no longer there."
The sensation of the Gloop in Sage's head, touching their brain makes them shudder, and take a breath - not that they can really breathe, with the Gloop all up in there. I'll never forgive myself for not finding my brother Over There is the thought that's at the forefront of their mind, something they haven't confessed to a singer person since they've returned.
They actually swear quietly when the Gloop leaves their brain, wrinkling their nose and taking a step backward to steady themself. "That....mm. Is...could you see anything about what I might be looking for?"
Another little flutter, and somehow, somehow, the Gloop seems to wink at Sage. How? Don't ask. There's just a general ... feeling of winking. A little unsettling, that.
"I can see what I find around the edges of the lost memory," it offers quietly. "This is more difficult than finding whole memories, so I will give you what I find. I cannot promise more than that."
"Whatever you can give me I'd be happy to have. Really." Sage lets out a breath and wrinkles their noise for a moment, like they're still trying to rid themself of the feeling of the Gloop inside their head. "Does it cost more?" Kind of a belated question, given that they've already agreed.
"I can only give you fractional memories, but it's more difficult for me." Here the Gloop burbles again. "I think more difficulty, less memories, makes it a fair exchange at the current price." Yes, the Gloop drives a hard bargain, but like... one doesn't want to be known as a cheater when one stays at the same place in the same Market.
It rises out of the column again, stretching over toward her once more.
They sigh and grimace slightly, and close their eyes again. It's maybe slightly more comforting, that they can't see the Gloop coming. But they do brace themself a little more, spreading their stance in preparation.
"Hold the memory in the front of your mind. I do not want to take the wrong one." It happens again, but this time it takes longer, and really does feel like they're about to drown, or about to be knocked off of her feet by the goo that goes rummaging around in her brain.
And that memory? It just... disappears, such that Sage may doubt whether the Gloop took a memory at all.
It withdraws just before she passes out, pulls back into the jar, and flutters again.
It's only once it leaves their head cavities that they feel something like loss. Something like an empty space where a tooth used to be. But they can no longer even tell what the memory was that they lost.
It's an old memory, a little fuzzy around the edges, a bright summer sun blazing down upon young Sage and their younger brother as they're frolicking through the field behind their house, on their way to the line of trees that marks the edge of the forest. Both of them with wide grins on their faces, dressed for play, without a care in the world.
A bright blue tear builds in Sage's eye at the very thought of it, but then it's gone, and they're gasping for breath as the Gloop pulls away, shaking their head a little like they have water in their ear, or are otherwise slightly off-kilter.
"Will...whatever that was work?"
Gone, gone, gone. They can't remember what they don't remember, but the Gloop settles back contentedly in the container, rolling around.
A moment later, the memories -- fractional, but real -- blossom in her mind like a time lapse of algae spreading across a still pool. They remember the door they escaped into Chicago from, the one that opens from an alleyway by the Hole in the Wall bar. They remember a hand holding theirs, ink spatters on the walls, and then the memories walk backwards for a moment. The hand is white -- not Caucasian human but white -- with a heavy ink outline.
Broad shoulders and neon blue irises in black-sclera'd eyes. A tracery of gold in the air. The journey winds backwards, and Sage remembers not their fellow escapees but at least a little bit about the people who found them, who helped them find their way out. Pop Art shading on an angular cheek.
The Thorns are thick and dark. They are held tight. They cannot breathe. There is no way out. The Thorns get tighter. They cannot see.
A thunk. A second thunk.
"Hold on," comes a distant voice. Somehow familiar, but unrecognized. Those ink- edged fingers pull Thorns away from their eyes. "Don't fight me!"
"I've got you, just relax."
Hands pull them free, and they feel something tear away from their side.
The memory strikes them like a fist in the stomach, and just as quickly, fades into the general mass of their memories. Sage knows they could recall that memory, or those fractions, anytime they want to.
If... they really want to, anyway.
Sage staggers slightly as the memories come flooding back, their hand moving to their side unconsciously while their other absently traces the thick velvet choker they wear. "...Oh, oh...fuck, I..." they swallow, and nod at the Gloop, not quite seeing them. "Thank you. This was...thank you."
A soft hissing sound issues forth from the top of the Gloop's column of glass; it's an indelicate sound, far less seemly than the tiny little wet pops of gas previously, which is saying something.
"Thank you, Sage Feld," the Gloop answers, and its eyes bobble within itself, losing all its focus on them entirely.
One more nod and they turn and walk back toward the exit, slowly and deliberately, like they're not quite sure of their footing. They pull out their phone as they go, like they're preparing to send a text, even if there's no service here. Whoever it's for will get it once they're Ironside, at least.
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