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The latest request came to Jon as a butterfly, crafted from a torn piece of notebook paper. The writing upon it was a messy scrawl in a pen that was running out of ink, but when it landed on Jon’s finger they smiled. “What do they want?” Martin asked, from somewhere to their left. They couldn’t see him, not really. In this place their forms were more memory than anything else, but they were together here, and that was all that mattered.
“The same thing as always,” Jon cupped the origami butterfly in their hands, noticing the multiple creases in the wings, like the writer had messed up the folds several times. It flew a short distance away, waiting for them to follow. “Someone to talk to, who will listen to their troubles without judging them.”
“It’s sweet that you do this,” Martin hugged Jon, and although their bodies weren’t fully there they were still able to feel it. “Most would probably ignore the requests you get.”
“I’m trying to be something my childhood self would have benefited from.” Jon placed a gentle kiss on Martin's forehead. “I think we both would have liked it if we had someone to talk to about our troubles.”
“Don’t be gone too long, alright?” Martin squeezed both of Jon’s hands before they separated.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” With a smile they weren't sure Martin could see Jon returned their attention to the butterfly, which was hovering in place, folded wings flapping to keep it airborne. “Take me to them.”
The place Jon and Martin existed in seemed to be in a different plane of reality from the one the humans lived in. Possibly they were in the space between worlds, but it was hard to be certain of anything. It was lucky, in a way, that there were humans at all; that Somewhere Else was a different version of Earth and that there didn’t seem to be any dark fear gods here. Jon vaguely wondered if their existence was similar to how the Entities had been, separated from the human world and only able to interact with it in ways its inhabitants couldn’t comprehend.
Following the paper butterfly, Jon passed through layers of void and nothingness until they were as close as they could get to the human world, separated from it by a membrane as thin as plastic wrap. They floated through the streets of an unfamiliar city, catching glances of their reflection in the windows they passed. It had taken Jon a while to get used to their new appearance, but they’d felt the spools of tape wrap around them while they were being dragged through the gaps between universes. The Eye had wanted to be their chrysalis, but what had emerged from the cocoon was something entirely new. Knowledge replaced by understanding, manipulation replaced by agency. Jon decided they liked it.
They’d once described themself and Martin as being something between a pilgrim and a moth; well, they were definitely more of a moth now. Their arms- all four of them- had grown long and spindly, their fingers tipped in black claws. Their legs were also thinner than they’d used to be, although Jon’s height didn’t seem to have changed at all. Their hair floated around them even when they stopped moving, as though gravity no longer applied, and two feathery, white antennae poked through the silver and black strands. Jon’s face was narrower, more angular, the features sharper than they used to be, although their eyes were huge and dark now, with large purple irises. Then there were the wings. While they’d been able to fly since they’d arrived in this universe they hadn’t needed wings to do so. Yet Jon had wings now, composed of all the letters people had written them; almost like paper mache.
Some distant part of Jon wondered just how this transformation had occurred, why this form was the one they had now. They no longer had all the answers, yet somehow they were fine with that. It had been strange to realize that it was kind of nice to not Know everything for a change. Regardless of how it had happened, this was just how Jon looked now, so they decided there was no point stressing over it.
As they flew, Jon thought back to the first letter they’d received. It had come to them as a crane, somehow passing through the space in between realities to where Jon and Martin resided. Until that point it had just been the two of them, their forms wrapped so tightly around each other they were practically one being. Then the small origami bird appeared before them, flapping its paper wings and landing on Jon’s shoulder. They’d pulled themself out of Martin’s embrace and allowed the crane to land on their palm, which took several tries due to the bird passing through it at first. They didn’t have to unfold the paper, because the moment Jon touched it they knew what the contents were.
Hello , the letter had read in a messy scrawl. I’m not writing to anyone in particular, I just want to get something off my chest. I don’t care who finds this, or if it gets crumpled up and thrown away, or washed down into the sewer. I just want to get the words out on paper so they’re not bottled up inside me anymore.
The writer talked about being lonely, of wanting to connect with people but being afraid to. It was a feeling both Jon and Martin could relate to. “I wish there was something I could do for them.” Jon muttered, burying their face in the crook of Martin’s neck.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Martin had whispered into Jon’s hair. “Whoever wrote this didn’t really care about if someone would read it, but somehow it came to us.”
“I want to go to them,” Jon had replied, a feeling they had not felt in a long time stirring in their chest. Purpose. A reason for existing beyond just existing. “I get the feeling there’s more this person would like to talk about if they could.”
The crane had flapped its wings almost excitedly then, Jon had forgotten it was there, absorbed in the letter’s contents. “Can you take me to whoever wrote this?” The bird bobbed up and down, as though nodding.
“Jon…” Martin had placed a hand on Jon’s arm, holding them back. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to, Martin.” With a sigh, Jon hovered over to the paper crane. “I feel like I’ve done nothing but hurt people. If I can use this second chance to help them, I’ll gladly take it.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt again. How do we know this isn’t a trap?”
“I don’t know if it’s a trap or not. I just know I’m tired of being afraid.”
They’d pressed a gentle kiss to Martin’s cheek before following the crane, passing through the void between worlds until they arrived in a small suburban neighborhood. It was surreal, seeing a normal street after so long. After the Change they hadn’t encountered anything that wasn’t malicious, full of victims being tortured in various fearscapes. Then after they and Martin had been pulled into the gap between universes it had been… nothing. There was only the emptiness between different realities, and them; not even real enough to have forms.
Now, on a normal street, with normal houses and normal families… Jon didn’t know what they felt. Happy that this was a normal street, with people who weren’t being tormented? Sad that they couldn’t be a part of it? Scared that this world would be doomed by the things they’d done?
Then the crane fluttered in front of them again, reminding Jon why they were here in the first place. The letter. That lonely person who just wanted someone to talk to. Jon had to find them, even though they weren’t quite sure what they would do when they did. It wasn’t like they were really there, on the street. There was some barrier separating them from this world, and Jon wasn’t sure they should try to break through it.
They floated past house after house, unlit window after unlit window. The bird flew on ahead, flapping its paper wings as it led the way to a house towards the end of the street. One of the upstairs windows had been left open, the curtains drifting in a gentle breeze as they drew close. It was a bedroom, the furniture was simple, a bed, a dresser, a desk and chair, but it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. A basket of laundry was overflowing in a corner, papers covered the desk, and the trash bin should have been emptied days ago. The bed was large enough for two people, but only one form lay under the duvet.
The paper crane had landed on the small table next to the bed, where a sleeping woman lay, her brow furrowed. “What do I do now?” It felt kind of silly, talking to a piece of origami like it could give them the answer. Then they laughed, almost subconsciously. The woman was dreaming, there was only one thing to do.
Jon had visited people’s dreams before, every time they’d fallen asleep for years. They hadn’t had a choice, hadn’t known what they’d be doing by taking statements from people. Even now they felt guilty that all they’d been able to do was watch. Yet here they were, actively trying to enter someone’s dreams. It felt wrong somehow.
The world faded around them, and they were suddenly in a forest. Branches criss-crossed together overhead, their leaves a canopy that blocked most of the light from a sun that was just starting to sink beneath the horizon. A river burbled somewhere nearby, the gentle sound filling the air, mixing with the whoosh of the wind. It was a tranquil place, a bubble of peace in a turbulent world. Jon missed being able to dream like this.
The dreamer was seated on the riverbank across from them, her feet submerged in the water, her eyes closed. She looked to be in her early twenties, with light brown hair that fell to her shoulders and a round, impish face. As Jon approached- walking this time, they didn’t think they’d be able to fly with how close together the trees had grown- they stepped on a twig and the sound seemed to shatter the peace. The girl’s eyes flew open, brown and huge.
She screamed, covering her mouth with her hands and leaping to her feet, as though preparing to run. “Wait!” Jon held out a hand, hoping she’d stop, but that seemed to only scare her more. In desperation they held up the paper crane which had followed them into the dream. “I got your letter!”
The girl froze, her eyes still wide as she took in Jon’s appearance. Their extra limbs, spindly and tipped in black claws, the antennae poking through their hair, their sharp features. No doubt she thought they were a monster, and in some ways she was right. Just not now, right now they were here to help her. “What?”
“You wrote this, didn’t you?” Unfolding the crane Jon started to read it. “‘I’m not writing to anyone in particular, I just want to get something off my chest.’ You wrote this, didn’t you?”
“How did you-” the girl paused, examining them carefully. “Who are you?”
It was a simple question and yet, Jon didn’t know how to answer. Who were they, exactly? They’d had many names, many titles. Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, Herald of the Ceaseless Watcher, Harbinger of the New World… Melanie had even called them the “Ceaseless Watcher’s special little boy,” in the tunnels under the Panopticon. Yet none of those sounded right, not for what they were now, for what they wanted others to call them. “I’m not quite sure, just yet.”
Jon’s response didn’t seem to reassure her, she furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. “You don’t know?”
“Is that so strange? To not know who you are?” In some sense Jon wasn’t entirely sure that they’d ever known who they were. Yet it somehow didn’t seem as important now that they’d been reborn into a new life, a new form. They could take their time in finding out. “Your letter found me for a reason, so I came to help you.”
“Help me? How?”
“However you want me to. If you need advice, or a shoulder to cry on, or even someone to talk to so you can get some stuff off your chest. I won’t judge you, won’t even say anything if you don’t want me to,” Jon chuckled softly. “I think I’ve done enough talking for a lifetime, it’s time I started listening to others instead.”
“Can I trust you? You won’t eat me, or something?” The girl still looked scared, but there was the faintest glint of hope in her eyes. “You’ll just listen?”
“I’m here because you wrote to me,” Jon sat down on the riverbank opposite the girl, crossing their legs. “Tell me whatever you want, I promise I’ll listen.”
Jon wasn’t sure how long they spent there, with the river running between them and the girl and the smell of wildflowers in their nose. She poured out her heart, talking about her struggles making friends in a new school, feeling like she wasn’t welcome anywhere. While she spoke Jon was silent, occasionally they nodded or frowned in response to something she said, but they made sure not to make a sound. They were here to listen, this was not about them. After she’d finished speaking the girl looked up at them, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.”
In response Jon got to their feet and bowed, which was a little awkward with their extra arms and it came off more as a cross between a bow and a curtsy. Still, they didn’t want to say anything until they needed to. They hoped the girl would understand what they meant.
“How do I contact you again? If I need someone to talk to?” That was a question Jon hadn’t expected.
“You would want to talk to me again?” Jon cocked their head to the side in confusion. “Why?”
“It was nice to have someone who just listens. Who doesn’t interrupt or try to convince me I was just imagining things.” The girl avoided making eye contact and wrung her hands together. “So, I wanted to know if there was a way to... to summon you or something.”
“Well, your letter found me somehow...” as if hearing that it was being talked about the paper crane flapped its wings and landed on Jon’s outstretched palm. “You would just have to write to me again, I guess- a physical letter, I don’t exactly get emails where I live- and fold it into something that can fly. This form seemed to work just fine, but I expect even a paper airplane could work, so long as it can fly to me. Leave the letter on your desk, or your windowsill, or wherever, and it should be able to find its way to me.
“That’s it?” The girl looked shocked.
“That’s it. That’s all it takes.” Jon knew that Martin was likely to be horrified that they were giving out instructions on how to summon them, but they felt like it was the right thing to do. Like it was what they needed to do.
Time worked differently in the place between worlds that Jon and Martin called their home. There were no suns to rise or set, no clocks to show the hour, it was just the nothingness and them. So when the next letter arrived, this time in the form of a paper airplane, it was impossible for Jon to know how long had passed since the first one.
“Another letter?” Martin’s voice was wary.
“It’s from someone else this time.” The handwriting was different, and when they caught the airplane Jon learned that it had been made by a non-binary youth. It also referred to Jon as “the Listener,” apparently the girl who’d written to them previously had posted about her experience online and xe had decided to try writing to Jon as well. Jon had visited xem in xir dream and listened to xem about xir journey of self-discovery and how xe wanted people to accept xem for who xe were. Xe’d been ecstatic to learn that Jon was non-binary as well and had given them a hug.
The letters came more often from then on, mostly from teens or young adults who were struggling to find themselves, but occasionally young children would hear about him and want to find out if the rumors were true. Jon felt strange to learn that they were becoming some kind of legend, that stories were being told about them and they weren’t being painted as a monster. Sure, dreamers were often surprised by their appearance but it was nothing like before, when dreamers would yell at them nightly.
There had been a handful of people- usually enraged parents- that wrote to Jon under false pretenses. When they arrived in the dream they were cursed at and accused of being a demon, of corrupting and brainwashing children. It had been so absurd that it was almost funny. After all the things that they had done, the mistakes they made, and these fools called Jon a monster for allowing people to speak freely without being judged. There was no point arguing with idiots, however, so Jon left the dreams as soon as the yelling started. They didn’t tell Martin about those people.
After some time a letter came that was somewhat different than the rest. A young man was struggling to tell his crush how he felt, and when Jon came to them it was clear that what he wanted more than anything was help figuring out what to say. “I wish my boyfriend could help you, he’s a bit of a poet.” After the initial surprise from the dreamer learning that Jon was capable of having a boyfriend they agreed to try and bring Martin with them the following night. “Leave a blank piece of paper and a pen next to your letter,” Jon instructed, and the man nodded eagerly. “We’ll do our best to help you.”
“What’s he like? Your boyfriend, I mean?”
Jon was caught off guard. “Oh, well... He’s my world. I’d be lost without him.”
It had taken a little bit of persuasion for Martin to go with Jon the following night. He still didn’t trust that humans wouldn’t use these letters as some kind of a trap, but he knew that Jon’s heart was in the right place. The man was waiting for them when they entered his dream, and he started upon seeing Martin. While Jon’s new form resembled some kind of moth, a transformation caused by both the Web and the Eye, it was clear that the Lonely had been the dominant power behind Martin’s new appearance. He still looked like he had in their old world- for the most part anyway- but his form seemed to be made of fog, slightly transparent and blurry around the edges. He was still Martin, though, and Jon loved him.
“You’re the boyfriend, then? The... the Poet?” Jon couldn’t help but snicker at that. The Listener and the Poet... it had a nice ring to it.
“I guess I am,” Martin rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “I heard you needed my help?”
Just like that they’d found new purposes in this new universe, Jon gave people someone to talk to without fear of being judged, and Martin helped people find the right words to say whatever was on their mind. More letters came, and although it was still impossible to tell time in their corner of reality it did seem like they were coming more and more often. The people they visited were no longer scared to see them, instead they were excited. The legend surrounding them grew, and upon hearing that they were interested in hearing just what people were saying about them, dreamers began to leave printed copies of articles or screenshots of forums. One dreamer, a young girl whom they’d both visited before, even left a picture of them that she’d drawn in crayon, and Jon had wanted to cry upon seeing it.
They continued on for a while, getting letters and visiting people in dreams. The void between worlds that had become their homes seemed less empty, although it hadn’t really changed at all. When an origami dragonfly fluttered into Jon’s waiting hand they didn’t suspect anything strange about it, but the moment their fingers touched it they recoiled as though they’d been burned.
“What? What is it?” Martin wrapped his arms protectively around Jon, acting on old instincts even while their bodies were immaterial in this place.
“It’s...” taking a deep breath Jon reached out to the dragonfly again, letting it land on his outstretched finger. “It’s from our world...”
“Wait, what?”
“I hadn’t even considered it, but thinking about it, why wouldn’t the letters come from multiple worlds? We know that they exist, that supernatural influences can bleed from one dimension to the next, but it seems like rumors of us, of what we can do, have spread to different worlds.” Running a finger through hair that they couldn’t even see, Jon refused to take their eyes off the dragonfly.
“Okay, so it’s from our world,” Martin still sounded confused. “There’s something more, isn’t there. Something you’re not telling me, otherwise you wouldn’t be so interested.”
“It’s from Georgie.”
“Wha- Georgie?” Martin spluttered. “Like, our Georgie? Georgie Barker?”
“The very same.” Jon let the dragonfly crawl onto the back of their hand. “Do you want to know what she wrote?”
“I mean, yeah! Of course!”
“She wrote, ‘Jon, is that you?’”
Jon had not seen London since before the Change, their last memories of it were of a crumbling tower and an endless sky of stars. To see it again, looking very much as it had for most of their life, made them pause. It was like seeing an old friend again, one Jon had never thought they’d see again. Part of them wished that Martin were with them, but they’d felt like whatever was to happen, it was meant for them alone.
It was simple enough to follow the dragonfly through the narrow streets, although it felt surreal to fly above the place they’d once called their home. So many familiar sights, yet so many new ones as well. How much time had gone by since the Change? What was this world like after an apocalypse?
Georgie had moved, but her new flat was larger, big enough for both her and Melanie’s things. Their bedroom was simple, several shelves full of books and movies, a desk cluttered with papers, some movie posters on the walls. A cat bed and toys were scattered on the floor, making Jon’s heart pang with longing. Life had continued on for Melanie and Georgie, the world had gone back to normal after the Panopticon had fallen, and they looked to be leading a nice life. It felt almost wrong to go into her dream.
To go from a new flat- well, new to Jon- to one that only existed in memory was a weird transition. She was sitting on the sofa, eyes closed and one arm thrown over the back while a fluffy ginger cat sat on her lap. As they approached she stilled, as though trying to hear as much as possible. Finally Georgie opened her eyes, and they only grew wider as she took in their form.
“Hello, Georgie,” Jon’s arms were wrapped around themself protectively. “It... It’s been a while.”
“Jon?” Georgie rose to her feet- causing the Admiral to make a sound of protest as he was forced to jump off her lap- her mouth open in shock. “Is that really you?”
Taking a deep breath, Jon gathered their courage. “I’m sorry. I tried to do what I thought was right and I just ended up mucking things up like usual.”
“I want to be mad at you, Jon, I really do,” Tears were welling up in Georgie’s eyes. “I think part of me is mad at you, but it’s been five years, and I think I’m just happy to see you again. I wasn’t sure I ever would.” Had it only been five years? It felt like an eternity had passed since the Panopticon, since arriving in their new home.
“You wrote to me, though. How did you even hear about me?”
Georgie sat down on the sofa again and patted the seat next to her, beckoning Jon to sit. They did, and the Admiral wasted no time in clambering onto their lap. “For a while Melanie and I didn’t want anything to do with the supernatural, we’d had more than enough spooky stuff for one lifetime. The thing is, though, after you’ve dealt with the real thing it’s easier to tell what urban legends have some actual truth behind them. People keep sharing stories like those fear entities are back, but the details don’t line up quite right. It’s easy to see they’re fabricated.”
“People remember the Change?” The Admiral purred as Jon stroked his fur.
“Yeah, for a while we thought it was a good thing that you and Martin had disappeared, because almost all of those avatars you talked about... Well, let’s just say their victims remembered them very well. Simon Fairchild was a headline for a few weeks, his death anyway.” Jon grimaced, it was easy to understand what she was saying. How people would likely have treated them with even more hostility. “Anyway, rumors started to spread on some social medias about this legend, they were saying how they wrote a letter to this Listener person and the Listener visited their dreams. It wasn’t anything special, but something about it stuck with me.”
“Because you’d seen me in yours so many times?”
“Yeah, exactly. So I just kind of kept an eye out for stories about the Listener, and while there wasn’t much at first there were too many details that fit you. Your accent, the fact you had a boyfriend who’s a poet, tiny things that painted a bigger picture when you put them all together.”
“So you figured you’d write to me and see if your hunch was correct?” Jon gestured to the dragonfly that was presently sitting on their knee.
“If you came I’d be finding out two things with one letter.” Georgie held up two fingers. “First I’d learn if this whole ‘Listener’ thing was real or not,” she lowered one finger. “Second, I’d be able to see if it was you.”
“Are you disappointed it’s me?”
“What? Why would you ask that?”
“It’s just…” Jon wrung a pair of their hands together anxiously, staring at their fingers instead of Georgie. “I’m not exactly human anymore, and… I don’t even know. I feel like all I’ve done is make mistakes, so why wouldn’t this be another one?”
“Jon, look at me,” they glanced up nervously and found that Georgie was smiling. “From everything I’ve seen and heard you’re helping people more than you can imagine. Sure, you look kind of spooky; but whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. All the stories people are sharing mention how badly they needed someone to just listen to them, and how much better they feel now that you’ve visited them.”
It felt strange to hear praise from someone other than Martin. The dreamers sometimes thanked them, but those people didn’t know who Jon was, or the horrible things they’d done. They were empty compliments at best. Yet to hear it from Georgie… it felt different somehow.
“Thank you…” Taking a deep breath Jon tried to keep their hands from shaking, to focus on petting the Admiral. “However, I can’t help but wonder if you’re trying to steal my job. Technically I’m the one who’s supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”
“Oh shove off, Sims!” Georgie elbowed Jon in the ribs, grinning.
“What? Did the prophet thing not work out once the end times were over?” Jon laughed, the sound somehow strange to them. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d just... laughed.
“Says the guy called ‘the Listener.’ Who came up with that name? Do you both watch and listen now?”
“Do you even have to ask, Georgie?” It felt good to just talk. Like old times, before the Institute, when the biggest thing they had to worry about were exams. “You know as well as I do that people will do whatever they want, including giving weird titles to people without bothering to ask how they feel about it.”
They both broke down laughing, leaning against each other for support. “I’ve missed you, Jon.” Georgie gasped for breath, still chuckling.
“I’ve missed you too.” They talked for what felt like hours, Georgie told Jon about her life for the past five years. She’d switched careers and become a journalist- although she did do some podcast stuff on the side. Melanie was doing well and was very invested in advocating for the disabled. Apparently they’d gotten married last year, something Jon felt a pang of loss upon discovering. They hadn’t even realized that they might have wanted to attend the wedding, if they were even invited.
After a while, Jon knew they had to go. They wanted to stay like this for a while longer, to just enjoy a few more minutes of happiness. They couldn't though, they had things to do. “I have to get going, Georgie. You now know how to reach me if you ever want to talk.” They started to get up, causing the Admiral to leap onto Georgie’s lap with an annoyed sound.
“You’re leaving?” Georgie sounded disappointed. “You practically just got here.”
“I have other people to go see,” poking the paper dragonfly Jon smiled apologetically. “I’ve been getting a lot of letters lately so I try to visit multiple dreamers at a time.”
“Can you visit even if I don’t write to you?” Georgie’s eyes were wide, the unanswered question hanging between them. Would Jon want to come see her again?
“Sadly I do need a letter to be able to find you,” another gesture towards the dragonfly. “It turns out traveling to different worlds requires something to guide me to the dreamer, otherwise I might get lost.”
“Can you bring Martin next time?”
“Sure, I’m sure he’d love to see you as well.” Jon walked over to Georgie and gave her a hug. “We’d both love to see any of you.”
“Jon?” Turning around Jon saw Georgie standing, looking awkward.
“Yes?”
“Thank you... for listening.”
To say that Jon had any kind of bias towards certain letters wouldn’t be true, but they couldn’t deny that they had a fondness for cranes. Those letters reminded them of the first one they’d received, the one that had started them on the path of listening to people’s troubles. That wasn’t to say that the butterfly they now trailed behind was less important, all letters were equally valuable, and all of the writers deserved to be heard. Still, it felt like so much time had passed since that first crane had arrived, and yet no time at all.
Time had no meaning in the void between worlds, but the letters still found their way there somehow. Through time and space and the nothingness between the stars came birds and bugs and airplanes bearing the hearts of the people who’d made them. People who wanted nothing more than someone to listen to them, to offer a shoulder to cry on, a warm hug, to give them the words that they couldn’t find themselves. As long as the letters kept coming, Jon and Martin agreed, the Listener and the Poet would be there.