A Red String in the Cage of Fate

A multitude of realities. It’s like flipping a coin to decide either heads or tails, except that coin has a lot more sides to it, and has more of an effect rather than letting it decide who goes first or whatsoever. The flipping itself has created two distinct possibilities, heads or tails would lead to those, and the decisions made after the result of head or tail would then create more. These realities are tightly compressed and bound, some carrying few changes and others carrying much more. One reality can have a slower passage of time and the other can have people in the sky. Despite all of this, all people who have and are existing are all present in the other realities. Some may be cut short and others may live longer, and yet some others may just have the same lifespan throughout. If one is born into a reality, then they are born in another reality. It doesn’t matter when or where, just as long as the said person serves the said purpose given to them in life.

With that given, fate controls one thing as well aside from the existence of all people: the endgame. Earth may disintegrate from the sun’s heat in one world, but it may also wither and die in another. But what they have in common is that in both worlds, the Earth died. This is the endgame. John Smith may win a million dollars and die the next day in one timeline, or would live in poverty yet die happy in another, but their endings are one and the same: death. Fate doesn’t stop and give free passes to anyone nor does it quicken the passing on from one life to another. Fate is a schoolteacher you refused to understand in your younger years, yet have learned to appreciate as time went on. 

Aside from this, fate puppets another.

In exhibit A, John Smith weds Mary Jane.

In exhibit B, John Smith weds Betty Doe, divorces her, and then ends up with Mary Jane.

Fate controls the connection of souls. No matter how separated one may be from their destined other, they would always carry on in the end. The souls who refused to marry would live with themselves, and fate would let them do so happily. It does not press this upon the undeserving, but puts this on the people who would grow best with the given situation.

Plato discusses that humans were made to have four arms and legs, but were split apart by Zeus, who willed them to roam the Earth in exchange for their significant other, the one who completed their soul. Argumentatively, those who would end up with no significant other would find themselves their own soul mate – they would fit themselves best and would be able to take care of themselves well enough just like a husband would care for his wife, etc. Mother Fate interfered once more, ensuring that this would happen. She conjured up the strongest of strings and colored them red as a symbol of love. With the strings in her hands, she scattered them amongst the realities in such a way that one would end up with the same other. Those who were not hit by the strings would live happily by themselves.

In the future, this would be perceived as the theory of “The Red String of Fate”. People of different cultures and races would make their own folklore of this, believing what they did. Somehow, they were able to get the idea that people had their own soul mate they would always reach – but that was as far as they got.

“…multiple realities.”

“What was that?”

“Do you believe in multiple realities, Pete?” the woman’s question got his attention, and he looked her way as he wiped the shot glass clean. There was a small frown on her face, her eyes slightly narrowed as she read the black book she had in her hands. “It all seems ridiculous, even with the string of fate the writer discussed…”

“You reading Era Ianto again? You usually don’t disagree with what she writes,” he replied, quirking a brow. The American man set the glass down and straightened his bowtie, grabbing a bottle from a shelf behind and spinning the rim of it on his finger. “First time I’ve heard you actually not taking in what she writes.”

“Well, yes…it may be fiction, but it’s a weird thought to deal with.” She closed the book and put it on the counter, looking at him with a bored expression on her young face. “According to her, there are infinite realities and everyone exists in them. Aside from that, we all have the same fate, which is death – she got that right, though.”

“If you think of it, she can be right.” The twenty-four-year-old man set the bottle down with ease, grabbing two small glasses from the cupboard and eventually poured shots of whiskey into them, pushing one over to her. “People know jack about the world, A. We haven’t gone out of our universe, so why not speculate?”

“It wasn’t even specified if the reality existed outside our own universe. For all you know, it might be around the corner and you can just walk into it without knowing.”

“If that happens, then I would simply disrupt the flow of time.” He replied simply. “With another me existing into the reality I walked into, it would cause a paradox.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve read her book as well.”

“I may have sneaked a few glances.” He lifted the glass. “Cheers, A. Now drink up and give that to me before you head on back for another performance.” Downing the shot, she pushed it back to the American who caught it with ease and rushed off to wash his empty one and her own. The woman called A got off the stool and went to the back room, while the bartender known as Peters began entertaining customers.

Time passed and the bar eventually started filling up just like it did every night. As the clock struck eight fifty in the evening, Peters cleared his throat as he spoke into the intercom, his voice resounding from the speakers located in various areas of the bar.

“Good evening, ladies and gents – we’ve got our lovely songbird coming up soon, why not stay for that and have a few more drinks? The night is young and so are we.” Coming back to his usual spot, he leaned against the wall and gave a newcomer a wink, who merely glared frostily at him with cold blue eyes and harshly asked for a beer. Unruffled, he took a cold one out and handed it to her, receiving payment soon after.

Peters watched her from the corner of his eye.

She felt so familiar, but he knew he hadn’t seen her until that moment. He had opened his mouth to catch her attention, but two men came in and asked for a scotch and a bottle of Japanese beer. Moving quickly and serving the two, he turned to the woman who was about to stand and leave.

“You know, there’s a performance later tonight.”

She cast him a lazy glance.

“I know. You said that through the mic.” He extended a hand out, flashing a smile.

“Why not stay, then? You’ve got a drink on me if you do.” She eyed him, and he added, “My name is Peters, by the way.”

She gave his hand a shake.

“Call me J. And I’ll stay – only for the additional drink.”

While he grabbed another bottle, the two men who had ordered the scotch and whiskey were in deep conversation. The first one, a ginger, sighed exasperatedly as he took a sip.

“I don’t need to be here, Matsumoto.”

“I know you don’t – I just figured you needed a few drinks and some ladies to flirt with,” he nodded at a passing blonde, “so why not tonight? It’s Friday, Matt.”

“You’ve given me a lot to work with this weekend. I assumed that I’d be over with it by Sunday, but apparently not.” Matsumoto chuckled and played with his bottle, putting it back on the counter, then gazed at his companion.

“Trust me, Matt. When you’re done with the night you’ll be thanking me for it.”

Minutes passed and eventually there were whistles as a woman made her way to the platform, adjusting the mic and nodding at an unseen person, the lights dimming slowly as an instrumental started to play. Casting the crowd a sly smile, A opened her mouth and started to sing.

I've been out on that open road
You can be my full time, daddy
White and gold
Singing blues has been getting old
You can be my full time, baby
Hot or cold

“So is this your songbird?”

“The Cage’s songbird,” he corrected J. “Not mine.”

“She’s got a good voice for a young woman.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

Don't break me down
I've been travelin' too long
I've been trying too hard
With one pretty song

Matt eyed the young singer, nodding along to the tune of the song.

“Lana Del Rey.”

“Hm?”

“She’s like a Lana, except British and slightly higher-pitched.”

The ginger wondered how she would sound if she sang something else.

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast
I am alone in the night
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I
I've got a war in my mind
So, I just ride
Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

A sang, occasionally looking at the random person in the crowd before glancing away. They would usually be quiet as they listened to her sing. If not, they would be conversing quietly as to let the others nearby listen without the sound of trivial conversation in their ears. This was what she liked about her job. She could observe anyone she wanted without making it seem like she was being creepy – after all, she needed to connect with her audience…

…right?

Dying young and I'm playing hard
That's the way my father made his life an art
Drink all day and we talk 'til dark
That's the way the road dogs do it, ride 'til dark.

“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

“Maybe. And I decided to get away, that’s why you don’t see me anymore.” She replied bluntly without a look in his direction. Peters chuckled.

“I’m serious, doll. Ever been to The Cage before this?”

“Don’t call me doll, fuckface.” She snapped. “And no. It’s my first time here. And most likely my last.” She stood up and walked out of the bar, leaving a cringing Peters behind.

Don't leave me now
Don't say good bye
Don't turn around
Leave me high and dry

As the woman went out, a man came in, running a hand through his hair wearily. The American spotted him and waved him over, preparing the Japanese’s usual – a glass of vodka and some beer in the back. “Been a long day, Touta?”

“Definitely.” He drank it down. “I see she’s on stage right now.”

“Yeah, she decided to go all blues-y tonight.” Touta noticed the faraway look in Peters’ eyes. “God, why do females need to be such bitches…”

“I take it you tried chatting up that female who passed?”

“Oh, hell yes. Shot me down soon enough.”

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast
I am alone in the night
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I
I've got a war in my mind
I just ride
Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

“I’ll move to the front.”

“Matt.” Jun Matsumoto tried, but shook his head as the Englishman moved forward with his drink in hand. Sighing and smiling a little, he drank from his bottle once more.

Matt moved forward and soon propped himself into a chair, ignoring the attention given to him by a few lurking females around. He drank and listened to the woman as she sang, humming along softly to the song he was quite familiar with. He had heard it on the radio and around, but never sung live by a bar singer.

It was a first.

But somehow, he felt like…

I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy
I'm tired of driving 'til I see stars in my eyes
It's all I've got to keep myself sane, baby
So I just ride, I just ride

…she knew him.

But that was impossible, they had never met before. There was nothing familiar about his blue eyes and red hair, nothing familiar about the way he drank or how that shirt clung to his skin. There was nothing familiar about him at all. But she was frustrated, it was like she knew how to make him smile, how to make him laugh, how to make him smirk…all these small tidbits she knew which she considered impossible because she had never met him.

Or did she?

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast
I am alone in the night
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I
I've got a war in my mind
I just ride
Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

The night had ended and people had gone out. Touta merely needed a quick fix and departed, Peters and Matsumoto were looking for their friends. For Peters, he needed to find A for they shared an apartment and he couldn’t leave her just yet. Matsumoto was complaining that Matt had most likely abandoned him in secret.

Peters and Matsumoto had gone their separate ways after receiving texts that they could make it on their own.

He had whisked her away, curious about her. And she allowed him to.