Chapter 1: 2015

Something wasn’t right. I felt its threads at the edges of my awareness.

The containers from my takeout dinner earlier—they were still in full view of my webcam. The last time I’d left fast food containers in sight, the comments I got in the chat were displeased, to say the least. It didn’t bode well that I’d almost forgotten again. I cleared them away petulantly, as if they’d thrown me off on purpose.

I lit a stick of incense, and the cloying smoke made my eyes water as I arranged its little stand on the coffee table. I wished I could go without it, but the sharp scent had brought me back to my senses more than once, and I needed to feel more in control for today’s shift.

I took a deep breath, tried to ground myself. I didn’t usually work so late, but I couldn’t ignore my manager Carol’s request to cover another reader’s time slot. I needed the money and to score some points with her. Make myself a little more agreeable and available, and maybe Carol would let me expense for an additional camera setup, one that’d let me show my tarot cards as well as my face. It wouldn’t be hard to make myself seem worthy of reward—one of the other readers had picked her teeth with the Three of Wands on public chat last week. All I had to do was keep my shit together.

I relaxed into my pre-work ritual of making coffee, the same mug, the same teaspoon of sugar and splash of cream, and soon felt better. I admired the living room as it would be viewed over my shoulder: cozy lighting, couch cleared of personal effects, incense on the table. Perfect. Exactly what they expected.

Coffee in hand, cards ready on my desk, I sat down, switched on my camera, and connected to the Oneira server. I felt a strange little vibration of—what? Excitement? Anticipation? A late-evening Saturday shift was uncharted territory for me. It was a novelty, not knowing what to expect. Evenings usually brought out a slightly different crowd. I wondered why. Lonely people anticipating bad dreams, or waking from bad dreams and unable—or unwilling—to try sleep again? Even if I didn’t see any regulars tonight, I’d at least have the chance to give people some guidance or comfort. Hopefully.

My chat room filled up quickly. The names in the chat were mostly unfamiliar to me, but I saw a few I recognized. Good. I may not have to moderate too much. Free chat meant mostly making small talk, but in a way that subtly reminded people I was there to help solve all their life’s problems with a paid reading. I had gotten almost too good at answering just enough questions to pique their interest, then snatching my assistance away before I could give them the details they wanted. It didn’t always result in a paid reading, but it only had to some of the time.

I watched the messages scroll by, gauging when it was best to let people help each other, and when I could be useful.

wallflower18: Will Steve ever answer me?

IsItMe: wallflower you need to stop giving Steve so much of your energy.

IsItMe: Remember last week when he stood you up and wouldn’t answer why?

wallflower18: Ya, I know. I just want closure.

bayoudancing: so i had that dream again last night argh!

TaurusTarot [Moderator]: @wallflower18, closure has to happen within you. You can’t rely on someone else to let you move forward. Think of the High Priestess and her message of trusting your intuition.

TaurusTarot [Moderator]: @bayoudancing, I’m sorry to hear that! Was anything different this time?

wallflower18: @TaurusTarot That’s so true! xo

bayoudancing: well this time my grandfather wasn’t there but i could still sense him, waiting to tell me something

bayoudancing: but i woke up before i could hear it i can’t help thinking about it. what could it mean?

wallflower18: Sounds intense, bayou. Maybe you can try meditating before bed.

Glen1979: Hey everyone, is this tarot card girl a veker, do you think?

I winced, as if pinched. As if I’d heard the words loud in my ear. I took a deep, grounding breath. Just words on a screen. I can handle this.

TaurusTarot [Moderator]: @bayoudancing, sometimes all you need to do is go outside, breathe the fresh air, get some space. You need to remember who you are and find your role in the world. You’re almost there, I know it.

TaurusTarot [Moderator]: @Glen1979, let’s keep it respectful around here. I’m banning you from chat for one hour.

Blusprite: Hi @TaurusTarot, how are you? I have a couple of questions about my work. Can we go private?

I hesitated. I was still rattled from Glen1979’s comment and could use a few minutes to collect myself before going private.

Then again, chatting with Blusprite would be calming. Her real name was Lucy. She came to me fairly regularly for guidance with her burgeoning photography career. She was uncomplicated in a refreshing way, and she didn’t see me as a carnival fortune teller or as someone dictating her fate. I could relax and not get overwhelmed with her.

TaurusTarot [Moderator]: @Blusprite, sure! I’ll turn my mic on, one sec. Talk amongst yourselves, everyone else!

Lucy turned her webcam and mic on, and I was immediately reassured by her kind eyes. We made some quick small talk, then got down to business. I opted for a quick and easy four-card life purpose spread. It was something I liked to do for creative types, and people who considered their work and their identity to be one and the same.

“This is promising. Look. The first card I pulled is Strength.”

I like the Strength card because you can tell all you need to know about it just by looking at it. A woman is grasping a lion around its jaws, but her hands are relaxed, not clenched. The lion’s tongue is lolling out—not an attack posture. He’s ready to submit. I held the card up to the camera a moment and heard Lucy’s happy intake of breath.

“That’s got to be a good card, right?”

I didn’t like talking about cards in terms of good or bad. The cards were just themselves, the barest of definitions ready to be interpreted. Every combination of cards could either bode well, encourage caution, or suggest a new course of action.

Lucy’s next card was Seven of Cups reversed. That didn’t surprise me. The Cups cards are about emotions and expression of feelings. Seven always rippled with excitement to me, its cups filled with a mixture of negative and positive objects: a dragon, a snake, a tower, a wreath. Everything in the clouds, up in the air. Illusions, wishful thinking, choices. Drawing a card that’s upside down changes its meaning, adds a different layer of insight or consideration. It sometimes results in an opposite interpretation from the card right-side up. In the case of the Seven of Cups, the reversal means there may be too many choices.

“So, let’s review these together. The first card represents compassion and confidence. Strength without violence or anger. The reversed Seven suggests you turn these cups upside down, dump out all the options, and pick one—and Strength seems to be reassuring you that you are able to corral all your creative forces onto one path.”

“That’s exactly the problem I’ve been having lately,” Lucy replied. “I’ve been really interested in self-portraits, but I also want to document abandoned spaces. But I’ve also been having ideas for projects that have nothing to do with either of those. What does the next card say?”

I held up the Magician reversed.

Lucy made a small sound of dismay. “That one reversed isn’t always great, is it?”

“On its own, it’s not the most cheerful card, no. It can mean uncertainty about an action. Or results you expect but aren’t seeing. A lack of motivation to get to a goal.”

It could also mean deception and manipulation, but I didn’t want to freak her out by putting it that bluntly. Something tugged at me, some dim memory.

“Last time I saw you in chat, you were talking about an artistic partner, right?”

“That’s right. My former mentor from college. We’ve been working together on projects now and then, but—”

Lucy’s voice suddenly sounded distant, as if she were speaking through a closed car window.

A memory drifted into place.

Lucy stands in a room, sunlight pouring in through opened windows. Curtains flutter inward. Wind ruffles the ends of her long hair and she tucks an errant strand behind her ear. She leans over a table, spreads out photographs, arranges them. There is another person in the room now, strangely out of focus, her face obscured. She moves just outside of Lucy’s line of sight, making deft movements with her hands as she circles the table. A gust of wind blows through the room and the table is covered in sand and ash. No photographs remain. Lucy is alone once more.

It was over in the span of just a moment, a few deep breaths of incense. The recall of one of my dreams that was more than just a dream. I had remembered a vision.

“—just don’t think it’s wise for her to put us up for a corporate project where we’d have basically zero guidance and a sixty-forty split between us,” Lucy was saying, “and only because my partner and their CEO are friends. Hey, are you okay?”

I straightened slightly, pinched my arm under the desk to snap back to full awareness. Put a big calm tarot-reading smile on my face. Relaxing energy, everything as it should be.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to envision the most likely outcomes of what these cards are suggesting based on what you’ve been saying.”

I leaned back and looked at the card in my hands. I liked Lucy and wanted her to succeed. I wanted to tell her straight up that her partner was definitely untrustworthy. But I didn’t—I wouldn’t be able to answer the questions she’d have in response.

So instead, I cleared my throat and let the card say what I couldn’t.

“Yes, this does suggest that you should step back and re-evaluate if something doesn’t seem right. At least until you have your own path solidly figured out, as we discussed with the Seven of Cups. Maybe you should tell your partner that you need some time on your own to reflect on your next project. In fact, there’s no maybe about it. You very much should. But let’s see what the last card has to say about it.”

I finished the rest of the reading without incident, and Lucy signed off happy and confident in her next move.

Lucky her, I thought.

Before going back into the public chat room, I turned off my webcam and mic and closed my eyes, took a deep breath.

I was suddenly exhausted. I desperately wanted to go back to my original plan of a bath, a book, then bed, but I had most of my shift left to go. Was my comfort worth the lost bit of income or risking Carol’s disappointment?

I sighed and gulped down the last of my coffee. Then I squared my shoulders and logged back into public chat.