If You Build It...

[Will Stanton]

And so they came back. Most of them, at any rate.

It wasn't just the contents of Sam and Miriam's room, though that would be a bit more sparse now as various Wills they had picked up over the months of mirrorwork shook off the proverbial rust and made their way to the lighthouse. The manor, too, saw bits and bobs free themselves and move on -- the grandfather clock in the hallway, a row of busts of famous and inspirational mutants, one of the projectors in a classroom, a towel from the spa and so forth. The aid from the administrative office, and decent chunks of the stationary. Wills of all shapes and sizes, one by one, were being contacted and brought home.

They came from the woods; owls and polecats; badgers and shrews; heron and deer. They crawled out of the sea, gasping for air for the first time in months, shambling their way up the cliffside path. They came from the air, birds of a feather once more flocking together.

They came in suits and ties; in skirts and leather, in latex and paint. They came striding confidently; they came with eyes glazed over and barely responsive. They came by on foot, by car, by train. They came from Maldon, from London, from Scotland and Wales. Hints of their current lives helped differentiate them from one another -- a tuft of wool behind an ear; a scent of cinnamon in their wake; a sway to their hips as they walked; new scars and new looks being worn as badges of honor. Some came alone; others in pairs, others carted in cardboard boxes or shoved roughly into purses. Heroes, businessmen, elegant dancers, creative minds and open hearts. Drunkards, idiots, rumselling rowdies, ignorant foreigners and silly boys.

And some didn't come back at all.

For the most part, though, the green-haired army came when they were called. And they came to the Point, where in one of the sublevels, Will had commandeered a large cargo storage room for his own use.

[Ashlie Minamida]

Ashlie had been in her workshop, tinkering with thin lengths of memory-alloys when the first Wills began trickling in. And then they kept coming. At first she didn't pay it any mind. If Will wants to hold a meeting with themselves they're free to use the space, but when they just keep coming she eventually wraps up her work and follows the latest returnees.

"What in the world is going on here?" she asks, more curious than accusatory.

[Will Stanton]

"Got a phone call to come home," one of the Wills explained, a robe wrapped tightly around a latex outfit that left very little to the imagination.

"There was a problem with the mirror," another added, their eyes darting around at every little hum and rumble the machinery in the point made. "It broke."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"What do you mean broke? And why does that mean you're having a shapeshifter convention in my basement? I mean you're welcome to use the space, I'm just confused."

[Will Stanton]

"I mean broke, as in shattered, into a zillion pieces, kapow!" the latex-clad Will said, spreading their hands out wide and arching their back to emphasize the shattering. "It no longer exists, and can't be used."

"That ob..obviously changes things," the more wary Will added. "I mean, by it's v...it's very nature, not having the...the place to return to means I have to d...deal with situations differently."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"That sound like an enormous problem. You're all facets, right? Part of the whole?"

[Will Stanton]

"Well, that was the idea, at any rate," the latex-clad Will agreed, agreeably. "But without a central, defining sense of self, then I'm not really a facet, am I? I mean, who's to say that I'm not the one that everyone else is just an iteration of?"

He draped one arm over Ashlie's shoulder as he continued to talk. "The idea is that I go out, experience the world, and then come and reintegrate those memories and experiences into the whole. But without a...central processor, to steal a metaphor...we're all just left spinning our wheels by ourselves. And without more copies being made, well, we have to take better care of ourselves, don't we?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"And the mirror served as a network controller to recombine the data-streams, so to say. Making sure everyone comes back to the same page. Like distributing evolving code over a shared network. Clusters of non-compatible deviations emerge."

[Will Stanton]

"It's also just an issue of sharing the knowledge, right?

So, the mirror. It's one thing. I go back inside, and become one with all the other iterations of me that were out there. Miriam asked me how many there were, and the answer is one. There's only one of me, and that's always how many there's been and that's always how many there will be, right?

But a book? Now you've got individual pages. Individual sheaves and leaves, bound together. Numbered and organized. A book isn't one thing. It's a fundamental misunderstanding of what makes me me, and instead is an attempt to drive up walls where none should exist."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"I'm not sure I follow. Even if it's made of individual components a book is still one thing. Made up of many pieces, sure, but part of whatever story or data is spread across them, no?"

[Will Stanton]

"Oh no, not at all," Will said, shaking his head. "Stories have beginnings, middles and ends. And those, I'm afraid, are very different things."

He hrmed to himself for a moment as they walked towards the storage room, his footsteps tapping out a beat as they went.

"It's hard to explain if you're not it. I'll try, of course, but you might just have to accept that I know better than you about how I work at the end of the day.

So a book, right? A book can be considered one thing, or it can be considered a collection of many things. Like a, uh, computer could be one thing. Or it could be a box containing a CPU and a graphics card and some memory. And that memory could be considered one thing, or it could be considered a bunch of addresses with values and variables; a string of ones and zeroes that can be read and used by different things. It's all a matter of perspective. So it both is and is not one thing, depending on how you're looking at it. Sometimes it's useful to think of it as a discrete object; sometimes it's useful to think of it as a collection of parts; and sometimes, you need to think of it as both at the same time. Flexibility of mind and flexibility of thought.

A book, as one thing is...organized. And ordered. And structured. You can't go from page one to page 241 and then to page 12 and then back to page one again. You start from point A and you wind your way through point Z. And everything is clearly demarcated and organized, zip zip zip zip zip. And if you DO bounce around, because you want to look something up, well, then, that's still demarcated and organized, is it not? Like, THIS is on page 53, and THAT is on page 93, and THIS and THAT are two separate things and never shall the twain meet. And as much as you push against that and strain to do otherwise, even the Finneganist of all Wakes and the leaviest of all the houses ultimately can be broken down and analyzed and understood one piece at a time.

When this book was created -- and I'm relaying things third-hand here, don't you know, because the poor guy isn't telling us anything directly -- it was thought of as a collection of objects. As a bunch of different viewpoints being grouped together and joined. So, really, it was created as a bunch of pages that had to be stitched together into one thing, rather then being created as one thing that happened to be made of stitched together objects, you see? Because they'd never been inside the mirror; not really. And they'd never been the mirror. So they didn't really understand what made it tick. They tried to impose their paradigm of what it was like to be One onto a form they didn't really understand. And so, when they attempted to make many one, what they really did was make one many, yeah?

And that's not even getting into the real problems," Will nodded, as if that explained anything.

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Okay, I think I can at least sort of see what you mean. My immediate reaction is that just because something is ordered doesn't mean it's rigid, but that's my own biases talking. You're talking about fractality. Kind of. Each one of you is not just a segment but also representative of the larger whole at the same time? Something you can't dole out bit by bit on separate pages because it loops in on itself and that process is part of it. Am I at least somewhat in the right area?"

[Will Stanton]

"If that makes it easier for you to understand, sure," Will nodded, smiling. "The other key bit there is that each of us isn't just a segment. Just a...different point of view of the whole. I'm not any less Will Stanton then he is," he said, pointing at the more timid one walking with the two of them. "Even if I went out to dance and he went out to burrow in a field, that doesn't make him any less me. It's not a representative of the larger whole. I am, always and entirely, 100% me."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Then I think I get it. At least in the abstract. That's what makes a fractal. The same pattern of 'Will' repeated at every stage through infinite depth because each iteration adds more without losing it's intrinsic pattern, no matter how often you fold it. And a book forces you to try and trace it sequentially, when that's not the part that matters."

"Though I suspect I'm falling into the same trap of trying to apply something to you that I happen to understand and expecting it to be descriptive. Is there anything I can do to help?"

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, I don't know. I doubt it! Then again, if I knew what you could do to help, I would have come to you and asked you for help rather than walk past your office," Will nodded, bouncing from step to step. "That's not to say I'm going to stop you from trying or anything, just that this isn't a problem with an obvious solution I just can't implement myself. It may not have a solution at all! Or it might be simply something none of us have thought of, yet, though we'll keep bashing our heads together," he nodded.

"Besides. I've been told that a room like this is quite the shock," he added, as he opened the doors to the storage room, where the duo and Ashlie found themselves met with...

Well over a hundred green-haired people. At least. It might well have been more, hiding in the corners somewhere. They had cleared out most of the room, leaving just a few scraps of furniture between them. Every one of them was in a human form, though that still led for a wide range of styles, shapes and sizes as different Wills carried themselves in different ways -- a wider range than normal for the university, at the very least, in terms of age, stature, and so forth.

The closer one got to the center of the room, the more active people were. There was some sort of card game going on in the middle, multiple groups of people talking and/or arguing; some Wills involved in deep conversations, others lounging over and on top of one another -- signs of life and activity. As you spread out from the center of the room, you got less and less of that -- several Wills were just wandering around with glassy eyes, or standing there staring blankly ahead or at the ceiling, or hiding and cowering behind things. And yet further out, there were some that had apparently just been stacked like cordwood into vaguely aesthetically appealing arrangements of limbs and torsos, not moving on their own.

"Number?" a bespectacled Will holding a clipboard with a lone sheet of paper attached asked as they entered.

"Oh, I have absolutely no idea," the latex-clad Will grinned. "Let's say '12'. I always liked the number twelve."

"You're supposed to remember your number so it makes it easier for you to sign in and sign out," the glassing-wearing Will frowned.

"Yes! Yes I am," the latex-clad Will agreed. And the two just stared at each other for a moment.

"Fine. Fine, go on and get in," the glasses-wearing one sighed, waving both the timid and latex Will further into the mess. He looked up at Ashlie. "And which one are y..." he started, before pausing. He squinted, pushed his glasses further a bit up, and then nodded.

"Ah, headmistress, I apologize. Welcome to the chaos."

[Ashlie Minamida]

Ashlie is not so much shocked as she curiously watches the various Wills on their way to the one wielding a clipboard and trying to bring organization to the situation.

"Thanks. I suppose you're the one with the most overview of all of this? Number Twelve there was just filling me in on what happened. I'd like to help but this is a lot. You don't happen to know if there's one of you around I could discuss the situation with? And perhaps the one that has been my administrative assistant is here somewhere?" She already has ideas, but to tailor them to narrow them down and develop them further she needs more information. "You're the experts, but I can't talk to all of you at once."

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, I wouldn't say the 'most' overview. It's going to be a controlled chaos no matter what we do; I just want to make sure as much of us as possible are returning, and so, I'm checking them off the list.

...He wasn't number 12," he grumbled to himself for a moment, scanning down the list. "There was no number 12."

"Anyway! Your assistant," he said, peering through the group, looking around. "Ah. Over there," he said, pointing to a group of Wills talking next to the game table. "Apologies for backing out on you like this, but I suppose you'd call this a personal emergency."

"Finding someone to talk to isn't going to be a problem," he deadpanned. "I don't know what kind of discussion you want to have, so directing you is a little tough."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"No need to apologize. You go above and beyond slightly more often than you cause problems." she jokes. "And I'm thinking of possible engineering solutions, possibly with concepts borrowed from my personal experience in reconciling distributed processes. They're very abstract and mathematical though, so someone who might follow the principles but can speculate on how certain things might affect you. I know how to consolidate and distribute multiple tasks and even personality facets across a nanite swarm but both your mind and body work differently. Is one of you a monk, perhaps?"

[Will Stanton]

"Not much call for monks around these parts, I'm afraid," the bespectacled Will frowned. "And we're limited to what we have on hand."

"You're thinking someone who is more into the whys and philosophical aspects of shifting?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Yes, a monk is just the first thing that comes to mind when considering someone well aware of their mind and body."

[Will Stanton]

"Mind and body, hrm? Well, we can rule out that side of the room," Will said, gesturing vaguely at some of the Will's blankly wandering around. "Head empty lot over there; it'll take them a while to get accustomed to thinking again."

"Definitely easier to find people focused on the body side of things -- I'm afraid a common factor you'll find among us is an exhibitionist streak. For mindfulness, though..." he said, tapping his lower lip in thought.

"Forty-seven, I think. She's the one with her hair in a bun on the left side of the room," he said, pointing her out to Ashlie. "Stuck in her own head a little bit, but that lets you have time to really think, rather than just feeling and moving."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Great, thanks. And I think you're doing an important job here, even if not all of you appreciates the work." she says and heads over towards Forty-Seven.

"Hi. The one taking inventory told me you might be a good candidate to talk to about how your mind and body is organized?"

[Will Stantn]

"As far as pick-up lines go, that could use some work," Will smirked. "What's on your mind, Ashlie?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"It's a self-filtering approach. But no, I'm here to talk to you about how I can help with this situation. One of you explained the issue, but I need someone who's very cognizant of how your body and mind works to go over things and help me tailor my designs to you."

[Will Stantn]

"Tailor your designs. I get it," Will said, laughing to herself.

"Alright, hit me. What do you have?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Well, the way I understand it, you have a two-fold problem. There's a need for some amount of organization in order to reintegrate the information and developments of everyone here, but there's no central authority. Not really. Because each one of you is Will in totality so there's no master 'program' from which to draw structure. In data management this means a consensus needs to be negotiated, usually based on still matching parts. In code that's easy, hard-coded segments, fixed nodes, things that aren't allowed to change. But that doesn't work here, similar to how, say, distributing a complex program across a nanite swarm takes away those tent-poles. The solution I came up with was to embed a carrier signal in every nano-machine. Something short enough it could be made part of the basic networking protocol."

"In your case that's your shifting. The single fixed point that makes the whole system work to begin with and fortunately your power does a lot of the heavy lifting there. And that Will-ness needs to be reflected in the process. The intent is present in the book, but obfuscated behind an inability for the pages to come together. What if we tried to transpose the contents of the book into a different medium? Take the picture and throughline it's trying to tell with snippets and put them together into a coherent whole. Pulp it into one large canvas or tapestry. Fold it into a fractal."

[Will Stantn]

"The problem is larger than two-fold, but sure, let's break it down into smaller chunks first.

Organization is a...bit of a tricky word. I've certainly been capable of it when called upon, but it's not a...natural state of being for me," she said, taking slow measured steps as the two walked. "I mean, I can do it -- you've seen how I've kept your schedule and everything, assuming there hasn't been a major screwup since I last checked in in the mirror -- but I've always been more about going where the moment flows rather than strictly planning things out A, B, C, D."

"Now, focus, I can do, and patience, and all of that good stuff. But organizing? That's a tough call. And that might be the problem with anything you design, no offense intended -- you're coming from a very structured point of view, from both nature and nurture. And while structure is important, it can't be more than a baseline. I can't hold that; I can't maintain it. The mirror frame that Miriam made sort of...forced a sense of structure on top of things, and let me focus on other parts of myself. That's a common theme throughout my life -- everyone from my wife to Melpomene has sought to impose some sort of structure on me, to usually positive results -- at least, from certain points of view.

I'm just not naturally good at generating that structure myself. And the freedom from having to generate that structure is liberating -- that's why the mirror allowed me to advance so far, so quickly. If something was needed of me, someone could pull out a version of me with the proper focus to help. And I could improvise between things, seek out experiences and worlds that I couldn't do before, if I had a responsibility to do Thing A at Time B. It's...living as jazz. Bop, to be precise.

I think that's the problem with your fractal analogy. A fractal is, after all, a pattern, right? At least in the way you're using the term here? It's recursion; zoom in and you see the same patterns repeating over and over. They're...self-similar, I think the term is. Whereas I'm more self-different.

Look around," she said, gesturing to the assembled Wills. "Just observe us for a moment. There's some of us in near constant motion -- look at her, squirming in the chair as they deal cards; she can't even sit still for a moment. She's uncomfortable even just sitting there. And why wouldn't she be? She came from the Queen's Head, where she's been moonlighting as one of the pinballs. Constantly in motion, bouncing off of things; that's the point. Or held in tight tension, waiting for that to be released by the spring of the plunger. You think she would last five minutes as one of those guys stacked up in the corner there? Look -- you can't even really tell they're breathing unless you get up close and personal. I can tell you, they had no plans to come back here on any sort of reasonable timescale; I think a few of them have never re-entered the mirror at all.

You could take a census of everyone here, and not find two that are alike. We're all here to celebrate something....some aspect of ourselves. Some desire or yearning to be. And the most frustrating part of being me is that I can't fulfill all these conflicting and contradictory wants. You can't be hot and cold, big and small, salty and sweet at the same time. That's what the mirror ultimately fixed -- I could honor different aspects of my being without surrendering anything. Doing thing A didn't mean I couldn't do thing B. BEING thing A didn't mean I couldn't be thing B.

Because that's life, right? Most people have to make choices -- you're a father or an actor, an X-Man or a homebody, the athlete, the brain, the princess and the criminal. Well, I beat that. I could be everything I wanted to be; I didn't have to pick and choose. I was choice. And that's a chaotic system, inherently -- it's infinite possibilities and infinite combinations, which, when you back up far enough reveal themselves to be one coherent thing all along. It's a mosaic, not a fractal.

And that's the contradictory part at the end of it, isn't it? Each Will in this room needs to be considered both a part and the whole itself. It's a difficult way of thinking that, frankly, most people are not capable of reaching. They can view me as the whole person or the specific role alternately, but not simultaneously. It's a level of doublethink; of not just acknowledging contradictory ideas, but embracing them."

The two had nearly completed a full lap of the room while they were talking; various Will had nodded or shook their heads, agreeing and disagreeing with this particular Will at various points as she went along her monologue. The path had led them to a table in the far corner, where the book was resting.

"You're no longer a computer, but you still think of things in that way," she continued, resting a hand on the book. "Protocols, and coherent wholes, and one thing logically leading into another. A throughline, with a delineated beginning, a middle and an end. What I am instead...what we are instead, is more of... a series of infinite loops, constantly calling and overwriting one another. The sane reaction is to try to force it to follow some sort of rules; to get things to a place where things made sense. But that's not, at the end of the day, my nature. It never has been -- but the mirror let me embrace that more than ever before."

"So, yes, that's the smaller chunk," she laughed.

[Ashlie Minamida]

Ashlie nods at some parts of Will's explanation, looking dubious at others, but just listens as they walk.

"You're not wrong, I do tend to favor 'structure' as you call it but more as a way to understand things rather than impose. Though." she adds, holding up a hand as if to ward of an inevitable objection, "I do recognize that I can and have tried to categorize and lessen things in trying to fit them into my understanding. Perhaps that is due to my nature, perhaps it simply is how I prefer to see the world, but I'm not as rigid in it as I used to be. As I think you still see me sometimes." she says, wandering through the crowd and to a terminal set into the wall near the door.

"When you hear fractal you think of what you know and assume I must be misunderstanding. But I don't think I am. Fractals are more complicated than simply being identical at every level of observation. You can always find the self-similarity but it's a bit more involved than that. The whole idea is that those self-similar patterns iterate into more complex designs. Here..." she says, pulling up a still image of an image reminiscent of a Mandelbrot set. And with another button press it begins to move and change. "A single formula, one variable ranging from 0 to two times Pi. Of course you're not static. I'm talking about highly complex, multi-dimensional fractals you can't even easily visualize. That's the concept I'm talking about. Infinite patterns arising from the underlying principle."

[Will Stantn]

"Alright. Let's assume I am misunderstanding," Will says, agreeably. "How do you turn that into something practical? Because I can't just become an abstract notion of something."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"A distributed, adaptive program serving as a kind of sorting algorithm based on fractal math. You're responsive to electrical signals. Weak ones, not the kind that decoheres you. That gives out a point of interface."

"Next you need a way in and out. A way for the algorithm to let a pattern it has isolated emerge and reintegrate. With your natural adaptiveness to your proprioception and composition this could literally be something akin to an automatic paint mixer. We'd have to sort out an array that's broad enough to work and it would speed up the process, I think. Prime the clay for the pattern. Which would still come from you, the program would just identify and promote distinct patterns. A 3D Printer of sorts?"

"Conversely, we'd need something to render you back down into an easily integratable state, remove any potential outside contaminants. Processing chambers for multiple ones, I'm thinking. A filter press, rinse and centrifuge perhaps? If it's fully automated I could run pneumatic tubes to some central locations around campus too..."

[Will Stantn]

"These electrical signals -- they'd be controlled externally, yes? Because while weak signals won't decohere me, playing with electricity isn't exactly my strongest point," Will mused, scratching her chin.

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Externally in the sense that they wouldn't be part of you, but ultimately controlled by the fractal algorithm getting it's feedback from you. With failsafes to ensure it can't harm you. It'd be the most direct way, but if you want I can try looking into alternative ways to transmit information."

[Will Stantn]

"Transmit it from where, exactly? Part of the benefit of the mirror was that I could come and go as I pleased, as well as being summoned out. This sounds more like...

Well, it sounds like a Flowstone Cage, which is something you wouldn't have context for. Bottled and trapped and at the whim of one person."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Oh, no no no. It would need to be under your control. The algorithm would be built right into the 'core' and be responsive to queries from within. From you."

[Will Stantn]

Will cocked her head to the side, thinking about it. "Well, it's a start, I suppose."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Would it help to ask some of the others for their thoughts? I know they're not going to fundamentally differ, but they might have other insights. Let me present them with a comprehensive overview of what I'm thinking and then we can refine it."

[Will Stantn]

"I mean, that's not a bad idea at all, but there is the more fundamental problem of it being...limited," Will said, choosing her words carefully.

"I assume you were thinking of some sort of reservoir for the base clay? A fancy box, perhaps?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Will, I would never cram you in a 'fancy box'. I'll admit, your need poses an unique challenge in terms of physical storage but we're talking about quite the exotic matter. Utilizing surface area might work, but even with an exponential manifold there are limits. Quantum pairing the deepest level of detail with the highest would be interesting but ultimately just recursive, that wouldn't work. Folding the space itself gives us more room to work with obviously, but just multiplies a finite amount. You're not wrong in that this is by far the biggest issue at play here..." she says, momentarily trailing off in her rambling. Then she snaps her fingers.

"What if it doesn't have to physically be everything at once. The Fractal Algorithm would effectively have infinite storage and be linked to you and you sidestep the laws of physics. You don't have to be everything at once to objective reality, only subjective one. You think, therefore you are. It's so simple!"

"Okay. Okay." she says, almost fidgeting. "Here's my pitch. The Fractal Algorithm sorts and anticipates your various needs and wants for expression, facilitating the dispatching of Wills. Physical production and reintegration are controlled by the algorithm which is connected to you via filigree electrodes. We can hash out the exact mechanics based on what you'd prefer and they would be ultimately modular, able to be changed without having to touch the core. The core being you, obviously, connected to the algorithm and engaging your shifting in accordance with your mind. I can repurpose some of the Danger Room code and you can make a space that is near-infinite." she says, pointing at the assembled Wills in a slow sweeping motion. "The box will be whatever you want it, whatever you need it to be!"

[Will Stantn]

"Well, I think I understood maybe a quarter of that,' Will shrugged.

"The problem here is the mirror connected me to something...bigger. And different. And I don't know how to explain it precisely, so I don't know how to explain it to you. But it was more than just a physical connection -- there was something there. Something that...was bigger than just the sum of my parts. That was severed when the mirror broke. And all the fractal algorithms and tesseract space in the world won't reconnect that.

That's the biggest issue at play here. I've been disconnected from something."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"You're worried it's a... spiritual connection that science won't be able to recreate, but I've seen how your power works and I think the important piece for establishing that link is you. If you give someone DMT and they reach a spiritual epiphany, posited that such a thing exists beyond the realm of science, then it was ultimately the brain that did it. The DMT was just a catalyst."

"Obviously I can't make any promises, but I don't think it's impossible for science to put you in a state that enables you to reform that connection. It might just take some trial and error."