Fabricate

"Miss. Dresure, open your eyes."

The young woman in the bed flinched as consciousness moved back into her.

The process was rushed, however, by the sudden need for breath which had never been heeded by the young girl prior to that moment. The the fact that she did not have the predisposed knowledge of how to take in air hindered her from performing the required motions. As with any other normal body this sent her newly corporal form into a panicked state, hastening the need to wake from the dream.

As expected from prior instances in this field the young woman lurched from the pillow as the blood in her veins sought to fill her in a forced attempt to take some action. Again, as expected one of the many signals traversing through her was one to startle her diaphragm.

She took in air and the panic lessened. Her body had sensed this was the need and sought more.

I held off my introduction until a pattern was formed in her body, or at least until she knew enough to keep taking breaths of air consciously. When I saw this feet had been accomplished I then spoke.

"Miss. Dresure?"

She continued to take in deep breaths ignoring my voice speaking to her.

I knew this might be the case.

Having never had a corporal body before she had never been seen by others until this moment. So, it was only natural that she assumed the voice was speaking to others, not herself. It was only about a third of the cases that this did not happen.

It seemed as though I would have to touch her which was always an interesting action to perform.

I reached out my finger to the young girl's arm skin, as that was the closest, and lay by finger upon her.

The same as all the others I had seen, she jumped at the feel of another human being.

I winced slightly on the inside. Girls always had the highest voices which were annoying as anything.

For two or three seconds she emptied the air in her lungs until her body understood it had no more air to survive. She ceased her bellowing to take in more breaths.

I seized the opportunity of her silence to continue speaking.

"Miss. Dresure. I would like the time to brief you on the situation. Is that acceptable?"

She did not respond which, again, was familiar territory.

"Nod your head for 'yes'. Shake you head for 'no', please."

I moved my head in the accompanying motions for visual aid.

She understood and nodded her head. I continued.

"Are you Miss Francis Dresure? Again nod for yes, shake for no."

Again a nod of her head was used.

I nodded as well more for my own approval of the facts at hand rather than to the young lady shaking on the bed.

"Casey!", I bellowed. I did not turn my head to the door. There was a need to keep eye contact on the young girl. In her panicked state her mind was not in the sanest form. We needed caution to proceed. "You can bring in the family now."

I heard the hinges of the door and the footsteps of many people growing closer.

A hand lay on my shoulder. It was young, but calloused with the work of an experienced man.

"Watch the girl while a talk to the family."

The hand raised and lowered with a strong thump. The sign I understood for yes.

It was only then that a moved my head. Casey's face was the first to see. Much like his hand the rest of his body spoke of experienced action despite being the age of only twenty-five. His eyes never wavered from the task given as I took notice of the family.

The parents, Martin and Lidia, were typical yuppies and dressed in the fashion of their status. This had taken a negative affect on me and my associate from the beginning, but we remained optimistic. It was only after we learned the circumstances for which we were called that out professionalism evaporated.

It was their son which I addressed first.

"Devin?"

The eight year old boy shifted his head for better attention.

With a point to the young girl behind me I continued.

"Is this your imaginary friend, Francis?"

I could see the young boy twitch his eyes up to the girl on the bed. I too looked to see the girl gazing back down at him. They each looked upon the other with such longing, if not for my interruption the two would have gone on for many hours.

"Is this Francis?"

The boy's focus was broken and he, once again, turned to me.

"Y-yeah."

"That's yes Devin."

From the woman's tone of voice I could tell it was a reflexed action to her son choice of words, but my mind reeled that the mother could think of correcting her son in such a situation. I sent a look of hate towards her to which she flinched in response.

I smiled.

"Mister and Misses Dersure you have here what we call in the business a 'fabricate'."

My finger pointed to the eight year old.

"As your son was neglected over the years his mind fabricated a replacement for you, an 'imaginary role model'. These are normally pieced together from other people seen in his life. Other family members, adults, friends this sort of thing. Many years of this and careful observation then comes up with a fairly accurate projection of consciousness. Your son then becomes mentally unsound."

"You mean insane?", the father interrupted.

"Absolutely!" I said this with a giddy look on my face to throw him off kilter. "Your son was quite of his rocker and if not for the accident it could have developed into something quite awful."

I will not lie in saying that I enjoyed causing these two a bit of agony in their souls at the realization that they had been horrible examples for parenthood. It was my belief that if shaken enough of their foundations they may be able to rebuild under more stable footing.

"Fortunately for you all, that trucker had a horrible sense of braking. To save its host the figment, 'Francis', took action."

"No! I did it to save Devin!"

I turned back to Francis which by this point was clutching the sheets hiding her face. I'm sure the revelation that she was once a cancerous fold to her young maker was a horrible thing to comprehend.

"A valiant effort though Miss Francis. I think we can all thank you for saving Devin's life."

I waited for an answer to which she eventually replied with another nod.

Back to the family.

"When the truck came to run over young Devin here, and with no one to save him the 'Francis' occupied portion of his mind reacted acting as a focus on the environment."

I coughed.

"I believe it takes only thirteen atoms clicking together for a reaction bring together other atoms. Enough atoms gather to form a solid enough form for action."

I pointed my hand to the young boy.

"This was the push you felt. Unfortunately this also invoked Torp's Law. A template made in from the atoms to form her hands brought together other atoms. Acting on Devin's template of Francis the Universe simply filled in the rest. 'Francis-the-human' was the most energy-efficient configuration to comprise Devin's thought."

I paused allowing the family members a chance for questions.

They all only looked at me in dumbstruck.

Devin spoke first. Being a child, and not yet set in the way of physics of the known world, made him less susceptible to the concept of 'impossibility'. Also, I assume the massive amounts of cartoons and fantasy novels could have something to do with his reaction.

"Can I touch her?"

I thought about it for a moment, gauging Francis' actions while waking to the tales of the young girl told to me by the eight year old during her recovery. This weighted against my experience dealing with other fabrications.

"I don't think that would be a problem."

Devin leaped up as any child would to greet a close friend returning from the hospital.

"I would watch her bruise though. It might be nasty."

Before I had completed my sentences the boy had enveloped the young girl in a hug. Francis winced, her bruise aggravated. Devin seemed to since this letting go before noticing and moving his hand upwards continuing to hug the girl.

Francis simply sat there. Looking at her face it appeared she was in a mixture of emotions from being able to feel the young charge for the first time and what to do next.

"You can hug him back you know."

Francis snapped to it and complied eagerly dwarfing the eight year old in her larger form.

To the two adults I added, "You can hug her to."

Neither moved form their perch, which was no surprise. I stood allowing the two to share in their intimate moment.