In Lily’s Garden.

Oracle Translator Christine

The blue doll, after jumping out of the library window with the others, sat at a café in Antwerp, basking in the idle afternoon sunlight, the famous clock tower visible in the distance. With the wind brushing against its face, the blue doll was diligently typing on a tablet held in its hands.

– Eve’s Prompt

“I try to let the woman know aloud that she is now taking me to the place where my light once shone, in my stead, as I can no longer move. If there’s one condition to the contract between the woman and me, it’s that Lily must move for the woman to be able to act. Lily would do anything for the woman.

I am relieved that the woman has chosen to live for me. To help Lily find her way, I, like a child with a green cloak, drew a clock on a page and claimed my clock, hiding it at the central station clock in Antwerp. I then decided to wait until the clock synchronized with the time where Lily might be.”

– Lily -> Woman -> Me (Eve) -> The narrator, unseen in the text: the translator.

When Lily created the dolls, did she give the blue doll the gift of translation? The real translator, watching through the eyes of the blue doll, was observing the process from a nebula that resembled an eye. To simplify the translation process, the translator was building a system. The numerous prompts written on pages often confused the translator about who the sender was, and much time was spent identifying the sender. Though most prompts were from Eve, the translator decided to distinguish the senders by their writing style. The real translator, residing in the nebula, was now following the same steps the blue doll was taking. The translator, who could not see their own reflection, now watched their own actions through the blue doll, making it easier to understand how the translation was progressing.

When the translation was completed, the translator would send the document to the woman, who would then act according to the text. Right now, the woman was writing and would soon be having an early dinner. Sometimes, the woman would send impulsive actions, and in those cases, the translator noted that it was likely because the prompts had not been organized properly, causing an error. The translator, wanting to finish unresolved tasks before the woman sustained more injuries, kept recording the translations. The woman was always satisfied with the fact that she could write in real time, as the translator had already handed over the manuscript. After delivering the prompt to the woman’s mind, the translator moved on to the next scene.

The translator had recently discovered that they were better suited as a writer and had decided to create a club to house their records. Proudly, they established a research club where the translation process could flow freely. Time, abundant for the translator, was now stored within this club. In January, the sentences of January would flow. in February, those of February would slowly follow, and so it would continue for each remaining month. Having always received prompts, the translator was thrilled to learn they could send prompts themselves, only to realize they had always been sending them. This discovery filled the translator with joy, but a lingering regret surfaced had they realized this sooner, perhaps the woman would have suffered less. The untransmitted time passed quickly, and the pages were filled, moving faster than real-time.

The prompt flowed from the heart, through the veins, and as the paper plane sent by Lily passed by the woman, touching Eve, it finally arrived at the translator, who then sent it back to the woman. The translator knew that the woman longed to see the transparent prompt.

I, too, wish to give my eyes to the woman.

If I translate my small universe and hand it to the woman, she will unfold it, expanding it greatly.

•

After creating one forbidden book, the gray doll used the same principles to craft several books containing the stories of the dolls. These books were lined up on the library shelves, and the gray doll sat by the window, writing the story of the blue doll.

At the library’s window, where the moonlight shone, the gray doll suddenly broke the only pen it had. Transparent ink flowed like water, creating a rainbow over the moonlit lake.

“It’s all written in the book, Christine. Give it your best. I won’t think of you anymore.”

“The future, present, and past of the translator are all written in a flat plane within the book. I will write horizontally on this vertical page and head to the horizontal city where the sentences flow. Swim through the words I write you might drown.”

Yet, having broken the pen, the gray doll could do nothing. It had sealed itself within the library, ensuring the owner could never return. Though the gray doll had anticipated this outcome, it remained frozen, torn between its desire to visit the horizontal city and its decision to break the pen.

Reaching the horizontal city was a simple task for the gray doll. All it had to do was draw the horizontal city with the pen and connect it to the library. But because it had always been so easy, the gray doll had neglected it. It resented itself for its indifference, but at the time, it neither wanted to go nor had any reason to.

What kind of change had occurred in the gray doll, now that it had been watching the translator through the blue doll? For the first time, it had a desire… an impulse. But the gray doll, having shown emotion for the first time, broke the pen, rendering it unable to go anywhere not even to the horizontal city.

And then it happened.

Cold ink lapped at the gray doll’s feet.

When the pen broke and ink spilled, creating a lake in the library, the gray doll hadn’t once looked at the rainbow forming in the moonlit waters. But now, finally, its eyes took in the beautiful lake and the shimmering rainbow.

“How strange. Even though I can’t go anywhere, it feels like I could go anywhere.”

Letting its emotions guide it, the gray doll leaned into the lake, allowing the ink to carry it away, as forgotten desires began flowing with the ink.

“Do you remember when Lily created us?

The pen is the one Lily originally possessed, imbued with her power. The ink that spilled from the forbidden book, the black ink that once filled the library. The ink I collected to make my own forbidden book. My broken pen. The spilled ink. My ink, forming a transparent lake…”

Realizing this, the gray doll unlocked the secret of how to create more ink. It spilled more ink, expanding the lake until it became as vast as an ocean, drawing the horizontal city.