Free Spirits in the Wires by Charles De Lint Page B

be words on paper. It can be anything from a painting to a passing daydream, but they’re not like Isabelle’s numena. Eadar depend on belief to exist whereas numena are bound to their painting. The less invested in an Eadar’s creation, and therefore the less belief in it, the quicker they fade. It’s really sad how ephemeral some of them are, no more than ghosts, barely here and then gone. There are parts of the borderlands—those that are closest to the big cities, usually—where Eadar ghosts are as thick as midges on a summer’s day.
    But while they can be sad little sorry creatures, that’s not always the case. Some have so much belief in them that just glow with energy. For me—probably because of Christy’s influence—the really interesting ones come from mythologies.
    In the borderlands, faerie are making a big comeback. And so are earth spirits—you know, earth mothers and antlered men. On the down side, so are vampires and other less pleasant creatures. And then there are new ones.
    You know why you keep hearing about Elvis sightings? So many people believe he’s still alive, that he actually is, except now he exists as a very potent Eadar. As more than one, actually. There’s a young, kind of tough one from the early years—though he’s still polite as all get-out. But there are also a couple of others: the smoother one from the films and a kind of pudgy one from the Vegas years.
    You should see it when the three of them get together. You’ve never heard such arguments. But then you’ve never heard such music, either.
    Anyway, you get the picture. Maybe I started my life as the cast-off bits of somebody else, but I’ve made my own way ever since. I grew. I changed. I became somebody that no one else is, or can be, because they don’t have my life. They don’t know the things I know. They don’t know what I’ve felt, what I’ve experienced.
    See, that’s what I figure being real means. If you’re able to adapt, to mature, to become something other than what it seemed you were supposed to be, then you’re real. You’ve got a soul. Because something that’s just a fictional construct, it can’t do that. It can only be what its maker says it is. That’s what’s so sad about the Eadar. They can be as fiercely independent as Maxie Rose, but if Hans Wunschmann decided to write another story about her and changed her personality, or her history, or whatever, those changes would reflect on the Eadar that she’s become and all her personal history as an Eadar wouldn’t matter.
    Continuity’s another big topic of discussion in the borderlands and the lack of it’s why so many Eadar suffer from various personality disorders. If they don’t fade away first. Longevity’s not exactly a big part of most of their lives.
    But that’s not something you or I have to worry about. Our origins might have been outside the norm, but we’ve grown into the skins and souls of real people. We can’t be changed by a few brushstrokes, or bits of new description, or keystrokes.
    And I’d like to see someone try to tell me what I’m supposed to be. Anyone does, they’d better have quick reflexes. Why? Because I’d smack ‘em so hard they’d be sitting flat on their asses before they ever knew what hit them.
    Oh yes. I can be fierce when I need to be. That’s one of the first things you have to learn if you want to survive in any world.

And Here We Are
    It’s not
    the words you use;
    it’s what
    they make you see.
    â€”S ASKIA M ADDING,
    â€œPoems”
(Spirits and Ghosts,
2000)

Christiana
    â€œSo I guess we’re both misfits,” I say.
    It’s funny. I can’t remember the last time I’ve talked this much. I guess I’m like Christy in that—I like to sit back and listen, just take things in. Mind you, he’s always