return to sender

{(set: $teamnote to false) (set: $allienote to false) (set: $theonote to false) (set: $godsnote to false)}sometimes it feels like minutes since you stepped into the trench. sometimes it feels like you were always in the trench, that there was something like this eating at the edges of your life. maybe none of it matters. what matters is the moment, the glitch, the skip from eternal blaseball on a field that shimmers like stars to back in your room, which is (link-reveal:"never in the same place.")[ somehow you just know where it is, though, even when you don't really want to. the problem is that you're only halfway there. one foot in the dense strange dark and (link-reveal:"one foot still in seattle.")[ either way there's the splort, [[so that's something->intro2]].]]

it's just that no one in the trench knows how to talk. you're the best at talking maybe because you're there and not. but the garages don't see you either. theo walks through you one time, the burning of a body pushing through you. you're ash-cold even though you never died. (link-reveal:"you need someone to listen.")[ maybe if you can't talk, you can write it out, like pressing an imprint of ink onto a page. [[like the zines everyone used to do.->noteindex]]]

writing feels like you're taking paint stripper to your insides. it's like the trench doesn't want you to put things down. one time you tried to draw out a map of the place, the hallways connecting rooms, from some kind of memory, and when you blinked the scraps of paper made nothing. fine, then. still, there are things you have to say. words you have to write, things that need to be communicated to people like: (if: $teamnote is false)[[[the team.->team]]](else:)[//they can't seem to hear you after all.//] (if: $theonote is false)[[[theo.->duende]]](else:)[//maybe being subtle is a bad idea.//] (if: $allienote is false)[[[allie.->abbott]]](else:)[//a printing error. that's what you are.//] (if: $godsnote is false)[[[just every fucking god.->allgods]]](else:)[//why would they start listening now?//] (if: ($teamnote is true) and ($theonote is true) and ($allienote is true) and ($godsnote is true))[[[there's no one else left.->jaylen]]](else:)[and, of course, the one you don't want to talk about.]

perched on the edge of a bench in the locker room. cold metal. linoleum under your feet. the team's moving around and through you. [[no reason to hold back.->teamletter]]

wedged between people in a bustling seattle coffee shop. you wish you could smell coffee roasting. black with one sugar. that's what you want to say, but your voice is a raspy whisper lost under the sound of conversation and clattering. [[fuck it. there's the receipt they're going to stick to the cup.->theoletter]]

head bent over a printer. folding. cutting. slam of the stapler. again and again and again. you used to help her even if she complained that you'd somehow manage to put together a few of the zines wrong. one of them gets printed a little off, smears of ink obscuring words. she tosses it aside, and it slides down the desk towards where you're hovering, in her line of vision but not truly there. [[you reach out and snag it.->allienote]]

doesn't matter where you do this one. you could write it anywhere. still, you do it sitting outside of the big garage, back against a wall and scribbling on the back of a garages brochure. [["to whom it may concern", maybe.->godsletter]]

(set: $teamnote to true)you learned morse code under the covers of your bed as a kid, a flashlight held up to a card, knocking gently against the wall where your brother was awake on the other side. you used to think that shit was cool. you're knocking on the side of a locker, but the sound is coming right from your old locker, halfway down the row, rhythms of short and long again and again. .. - ·----· ... -- . ·-·-·- -- .. -.- . --··-- .. -- . .- -. ·-·-·- ( //$team1// ) --- .-. .. ·----· -- .... .- .-.. ..-. .-- .- -.-- .... . .-. . ·-·-·- ( //$team2// ) .... .- -. --. --- -. - --- -- . --··-- --- -.- .- -.-- ··--·· the problem is that the garages' locker room is full of sound. all the intentional noise in the world doesn't mean anything. it just adds on. [[fine. you'll try again.->noteindex]]

(set: $theonote to true)EARLY RISE CAFE ORDER #4283948 --- 1 m. Latte Add Vanilla ( //$theo1// ) Total 1 item(s): $3.24 Sales Tax: $0.22 ( //$theo2// ) TOTAL: $3.46 --- Thank you for your patronage! [[the receipt crumples forlornly as it's tossed into the trash.->noteindex]]

(set: $allienote to true)''THE SUN IS OUR ENEMY'' ISSUE 18 EDITOR'S NOTE welcome to issue 18 of the sun is our enemy, the zine that runs until the gods don't. this (background:white)[issue of the zine is focused on] the fact that the dead are not gone but still with us. we think that memory is important to blaseball because of how fast we cycle through/between players and teams. this zine is a community project, but every so often we believe we have to return to memory. we have (background:white)[to remember ]those who are now //(uppercase: $allie1)//. this is not an invitation to wallow//(uppercase: $allie2)// or to celebrate, but it is an invitation to remember what we're fighting for. we know who (background:white)[the enemy] is. let's get them. [[edited by allie abbott. annotations (lost) by mike townsend.->noteindex]]

(set: $godsnote to true)when you try to leave the brochure at least pasted up against a wall where someone can pick it up, you watch as it blows away down the street. a few days later, after you've found your way out of the breach again and find yourself wedged against the wall near a line of people winding into the big garage for a game, they're talking about the graffiti they had to scrub off the side of the stadium, messy spray-paint, full diy. the garages are denying they would vandalize their own stadium, but most people think it's in their spirit to say something like '//$gods1//'. sure, the random //$gods2// under it doesn't seem to mean much, but it does sound like a threat. so maybe it's a rival blaseball team. [[alright. so much for addressing gods.->noteindex]]

it's not that you hate jaylen. you genuinely don't hate jaylen; you wouldn't have done everything you did if you hated her. sure, she could be mean and said just as many shitty things to you as anyone else did, but that didn't matter. you'd known each other in college and the transition from friends to band to team didn't feel as bad when you knew most of the people in it. that was always the big thing about the garages. us against the gods. you wish you could ask jaylen what she thinks about all that, or if she even cares, (link-reveal:"because, well --")[ everyone knows what's happening now. what she's doing, sort of. the flickering. does she know that when someone starts flickering, they can see them down in the trench, in the stands? (link-reveal:"in")[(link-reveal:"-out")[(link-reveal:"-in")[(link-reveal:"-out")[ of sight like a heartbeat rhythm. [[does she even know?->jaylen2]]]]]]]

//hey, guys. it's me. mike, i mean. mike townsend. i don't know why i said that, but i think sorry for the weird method of communication, but i don't think you guys can hear me. and i just want you to know that it was worth it. i really think it was worth it, in its way. i've heard about what's happening with jaylen, and it'll be fine. it's weird here. it feels like// (cycling-link: bind $team1, "i'm eating an old television screen that's full of static", "brain buzz", "tingling in my eyes like they're made of jello", "like when you don't sleep for too long and the world hurts", "-- well, it hurts. it just hurts"). //same difference. doesn't matter any more. anyway, i'm still here, i think. or i'm halfway here. i'm kind of scared that if you guys// (cycling-link: bind $team2, "forget me", "just move on", "don't hear me", "walk through me enough times") //then i'll just disappear forever. and i know i said i was ready for it, that i knew what i was going to do there, but i really don't want to slip away. i think i'm scared. so just hang onto me, okay? just for a second. [[i really fucking miss being on the team.->teamfinal]]//

//theo, sorry, i know this is a weird thing to find on your coffee shop receipt (i don't know how you drink those lattes, seriously, but i'm not going to waste too much time on that) but i didn't know what else to do. i hope you're doing okay. i know this sounds like a// (cycling-link: bind $theo1, "goodbye note", "weird breakup letter??", "last ditch effort kind of thing", "informal two week notice") //but i swear to god that it's not. i just want you to know that i'm still here, even if you can't see me. you did walk through me one time and that was kind of fucked up, but it's not like you knew that was happening. you've been doing a good job with the team. i know things are weird right now, considering everything we did, but you really have been doing good shit. my only real suggestion is that you just// (cycling-link: bind $theo2, "take it easy on them", "have some kind of concert or something", "keep printing those zines", "let them get fucking angry") //because i think they're scared and upset. i'd know. i'm the guy who used to upset everyone, right? just don't worry about a commemoration song right now. there's no rush. [[since, you know, i'm still listening.->theofinal]]//

//hey, allie. how are you? okay. shit. i don't know why i began this like a conversation. look, i'll be honest. i've been trying to talk to you guys since the whole ~~trip to save j~~ okay, maybe i shouldn't bring up jaylen, right? but it's hard not to. you two were close and now jaylen's... i think jay's exactly how she's always been, but just more, or something? anyway. the point is i miss you a lot. i know you've gotten even more into zine making since the whole incineration thing. i need you to know that they aren't just// (cycling-link: bind $allie1, "dead", "gone", "killed", "ash")//, okay? none of us are. you're going to hate this but there's still blaseball in whatever afterlife this is. post-game purple-tinged malaise or something. can't get away from it. i remember when the garages were just a band and sometimes i wish we could go back there. things were simple. we weren't watching each other burn up. i just don't want you to// (cycling-link: bind $allie2, "blame yourself", "treat yourself like shit", "obsess about ghosts forever", "just kind of disappear")//. look, there's no way around it. everyone burns up down here. communal experience. very garages, in that way. [[take care of yourself even if you don't want to.->alliefinal]]//

#return to sender. (in the trench, glittering blue-black-purple.) [[find your way out.->intro1]] [[credits.->credits]]

//hey, shoutout to the big peanut in the sky. eat shit, you fucked up pissy legume. in all seriousness, i don't know what you want, but i assume it's// (cycling-link: bind $gods1, "just some power trip", "to self-perpetuate via thousands of normal peanuts, for some reason", "all about hubris", "to get your ass beat by my blaseball team")//. i don't care if we're playing into your plans somehow, because you aren't going to win this. your plans already got fucked up by the fans messing around. you're not all-powerful. maybe you scare the shit out of us, but around the time you start playing the splort while it's raining blood, i think you get pretty far past fear. i hope jaylen scares the shit out of you. i don't know if you're capable of// (cycling-link: bind $gods2, "fear", "regret", "retreat", "worry")// but i guess we're going to find out one way or another. i may not be there for it. i might be working for some other god right now. doesn't matter. i know what i did and i know what i'm going to do.// [[see you when you get roasted into ash, you piece of shit.->godsfinal]]

because if she knows, and she keeps doing it -- is it even a choice? is it compulsion? or does she enjoy it, after dying in a way that was out of her control, the pain of incineration, to finally be in control of something? can you even blame her for that? maybe. (link-reveal: "maybe not.")[ [[maybe it doesn't matter.->jaylen3]]]

jaylen's at the locker room late. avoiding people. avoiding the team. she knows she's separate, back from the dead. between the two of you, you are people who are there and not, even if jaylen was pulled out of the trench and you are moving in between the two, pulled one way and then the other. she's on her phone, not really looking up. she looks pissed. it's hard to remember how to write today. so instead, you go for kicking the locker down the row as hard as you can, (link-reveal:"enough that it makes your foot hurt.")[ "are you going to keep fucking doing that?" asks jaylen, not even looking up, and not even looking up, and (link-reveal:"you freeze.")[ [[oh, shit.->jaylentalk]]]]

"seriously," she continues. "'$gods1'? how old are you?" the back of your neck is very, very hot. on instinct you want to retreat around the row of lockers and disappear. you can see the light of the trench all over her, an unnatural glow even under the fluorescent lights of the locker room. "what the fuck," you manage. your voice is a rasp more than anything, shot through with the hum that you hear all the time now, getting louder. it's like when there's feedback, the buzz and then the shriek of it in your voice. "have you been able to perceive me or whatever this whole time?" (link-reveal:"she scoffs.")[ [["yeah. why wouldn't i?"->mikecrisis]]]

and she didn't say anything. god, why the fuck would she? mike townsend (is a disappointment), written by jaylen, produced as a joke that became one of the garages' most listened to songs in mere weeks. jaylen hotdogfingers has been able to see you ever since you dragged her back out of the trench, ever since you made a fucked-up deal that left you like this, because sure, she owes a debt, but someone had to make the deposit. that was you. you were the deposit. (cycling-link: "why the fuck would she", "she could've said one word", "she could've just looked", "maybe she thinks she doesn't owe you shit","[[or maybe she just blames you->mikeanger]]")

i don't own the splort of <a href="http://blaseball.com"; target="_blank">blaseball</a>. all these characters belong to the game band. this twine uses google fonts ''lora'' and ''open sans'' to replicate the look of the blaseball website. thanks to the <a href="https://twine2.neocities.org/"; target="_blank">official harlowe documentation</a> for making this fan game possible! [[back.->menu]]

your voice doesn't even sound like you. there's static in it when you raise it above normal conversational levels, and you can feel it buzzing behind your teeth. "you should've just said anything!" "what was i supposed to say? 'hey, mike, sorry no one else can see you, but we both know why i can, and --'" "i don't know! sure, say that! say anything, jay, fuck." (link-reveal:"she watches you, still.")[ at least she's not just glancing at her phone every so often. "i thought it would be worse if you knew it was just me who could see you." "oh, yeah. jaylen, the altruist. sure." (link-reveal:"it's just bullshit.")[ "well, we're talking now, so what do you want to say so badly?" feels like you're choking on it. too many things. [[and yet, all at once, nothing.->ghost]]]]

it just doesn't matter. does the team even care? even if you could tell jaylen everything, would she even be able to remember it all? all the things that mattered so much when you said them before, and now just taste like ashes. all of it lost to the sound of feedback. after a moment, you slump against the locker. you shouldn't $allie2. (link-reveal:"you shouldn't.")[ you know better. you advised otherwise. but here you are, and looking at jaylen feels like someone is scraping a slow circle around the inside of your skull, creating line after line and (link-reveal:"letting all the thoughts seep out like raw fucking sewage.")[ (link-reveal: "this is what you are to each other.")[[[ two ghosts, one a little more alive, one a little more dead.->ghosting]]]]]

the two of you watch each other warily for a moment. there's no good reason for it besides the feeling of being-at-odds. should stay on the diamond but sometimes it doesn't. in the silence, jaylen gets up and (link-reveal: "leaves the locker room.")[ you trail after her like some kind of pet. nowhere else to go. (link-reveal: "nowhere else to be.")[ for a long moment, you both stare up at the seattle sky. jaylen's hands are on fire. in her eyes you can see the trench, a purple-pink burning against the world looped around her pupils. [[no one gets out of the trench. not really.->purple]]]]

"sometimes i miss it in there," she says, folding her arms against the chill. you can't even feel it. you wish that you could, almost. "i mean, not enough to fucking go back, but you didn't have to figure shit out in there. everything was figured out for you." "not for me, apparently." (link-reveal: "jaylen laughs, sort of.")[ for a moment, it feels like it did before, [[forever ago->sunset]].]

"you're such an asshole," you tell her. she doesn't even flinch. instead, she just nods. it's good there's no one else around to ask who she's talking to. she'd have to lie. (link-reveal: "or maybe she'd tell the truth.")[ (link-reveal:"hard to say which one's worse.")[ probably the truth. no one wants their stadium to be haunted. blaseball players can get superstitious. [[they have their rituals, after all.->ritual]]]]

"sometimes i don't get why you did that for me. i know the team wanted you to, but come on. no one ever fucking thinks i'd have done that for you." okay. (link-reveal:"that one almost makes you laugh.")[ you fold your arms and let your head rest against the concrete wall. temperature equalizing to match it the longer you stand there. soon you'll be so cold that it'll make you seem more like ashes that could blow away. "yeah," you say. "i don't think anyone thinks you were going to fling yourself into a hellscape to save me." that's a mike townsend kind of thing to do. greer would call it a classic townsend blunder. [[you both know who would've gone in.->specter]]]

allison isn't here right now, and that's probably for the best. not just for her, but for you two. you watch traffic wind by. (link-reveal:"the silence aches.")[ "if it comes down to you and the fucking peanut," you say, "i guess i'll bet on you." jaylen's smile flickers. (link-reveal:"jaylen flickers.")[ for a moment, you're afraid she might disappear. [[the sky's tinged purple.->sky]]]]

the sun is halfway hidden below the horizon. jaylen asks roughly, "how long are you sticking around?" you shrug. until you can't. until you forget and slip away. (link-reveal:"she nods again.")[ sometimes there's just nothing left to say, or nothing worth saying, or the words wouldn't matter. they wouldn't come through right anyway. and that's not anything the trench took away from them. (link-reveal:"it's always been like that.")[ but you can take a little longer. not to be heard or seen, but maybe to be understood. [[just for now.->menu]]]]