Spirits in the Wires

 

 

 

By Charles de Lint from Tom Doherty Associates

ANGEL OF DARKNESS

DREAMS UNDERFOOT

THE FAIR AT EMAIN MACHA

FORESTS OF THE HEART

FROM A WHISPER TO A SCREAM

GREENMANTLE

I'LL BE WATCHING YOU

INTO THE GREEN

THE IVORY AND THE HORN

JACK OF KINROWAN

THE LITTLE COUNTRY

MEMORY AND DREAM

MOONHEART

MOONLIGHT AND VINES

MULENGRO

THE ONION GIRL

SOMEPLACE TO BE FLYING

SPIRITS IN THE WIRES

SPIRITWALK

SVAHA

TAPPING THE DREAM TREE

TRADER

THE WILD WOOD

YARROW

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This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

SPIRITS IN THE WIRES

Copyright © 2003 by Charles de Lint

“Extract from the journals of Christy Riddell” first appeared as part of the limited edition chapbook,
The Fields Beyond the Fields;
Triskell Press, 1997.

Copyright © 1997 by Charles de Lint.

The lines from “Arabesque” are from the short story “Saskia,” which first appeared in
Space Opera,
edited by Anne McCaffrey and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough; DAW Books, 1996. Copyright © 1996 by Charles de Lint.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor.com

Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

De Lint, Charles, 1951–

Spirits in the wires / Charles de Lint.

p. cm.

“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”

ISBN 0-312-86971-1 (PBK)

EAN 978-0312-86971-7 (PBK)

1. Fantasy fiction, Canadian. 2. Technology—Fiction. I. Title.

 

Printed in the United States of America

0  9  8  7  6  5  4

 

 

This one's for my long-time pal

Rodger Turner

 

 

Break the bowl—

instead of regret,

fall back into

the potter's hands

and be reborn.

—S
ASKIA
M
ADDING

“Falling”
(Spirits and Ghosts,
2000)

The impetus to write this book, and the title as well, was sparked by some offhand remarks made by my friend Richard Kunz concerning how, with the ever-growing prevalence of technology in the world, some of the spirits of fairy tale and folklore have probably already left the woodlands and other pastoral settings to take up residence in the wires that seem to connect us to everything: telephone, cable, electricity. No doubt they're in the satellite feeds as well.

I'd touched on this in some previous short stories (such as “Saskia,” which you can find in my collection
Moonlight and Vines,
and “Pixel Pixies,” in the more recent
Tapping the Dream Tree
collection), but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to explore it at a longer length. So finally I put aside the plans I had for the next novel I was going to write and jumped happily into this one instead, even though it will be the second novel in a row to feature my regular repertory company of Newford characters taking their turn on the main stage, rather than going about their lives in the background of the books as they usually do.

Considering the origins of
Spirits in the Wires,
I should first thank Richard for those conversations, not forgetting his wife, Mardelle, who is not only a friend, but who has also done such a fine job of copyediting on a number of my books—those would be the ones without typos and the like.

I'd also like to thank:

Rodger Turner for great heaps of technical advice (with the usual caveat that any screw-ups are my fault, not his);

my coterie of friends, family and well-wishers (too numerous to name—you know who you are), without whom writing these books would be a far lonelier proposition;

my editors Gordon Van Gelder, Jo Fletcher, Patrick Nielsen Hayden, Sharyn November, and Terri Windling, all of whom are friends more than business associates;

Cat Eldridge, David Tamulevich, and the handful of readers who continue to send such wonderful music my way, as well as all the amazing musicians who, through the years, have kept my brain fertile and my spirits lifted with their music;

and last, but never least, Mary Ann for her love, comfort, and support; for the music in her heart and the poetry in her soul; for her astute reader's eye and red pen, and her sharp negotiating skills. And you know what? She's wilder than me.

If any of you are on the Internet, come visit my home page at
www. charlesdelint.com

—Charles de Lint

Ottawa, Autumn 2002

 

 

 

According to Jung, at around the age of six or seven we separate and then hide away the parts of ourselves that don't seem acceptable, that don't fit in the world around us. Those unacceptable parts that we secret away become our shadows.

I remember reading somewhere that it can be a useful exercise to visualize the person our shadow would be if it could step out into the light. So I tried it. It didn't work immediately. For a long time, I was simply talking to myself. Then, when I did get a response, it was only a spirit voice I heard in my head. It could just as easily have been my own. But over time, my shadow took on more physical attributes, in the way that a story grows clearer and more pertinent as you add and take away words, molding its final shape.

Not surprisingly, my shadow proved to be the opposite of who I am in so many ways. Bolder, wiser, with a better memory and a penchant for dressing up with costumes, masks, or simply formal wear. A cocktail dress in a raspberry patch. A green man mask in a winter field. She's short, where I'm tall. Dark-skinned, where I'm light. Red-haired, where mine's dark. A girl to my boy, and now a woman as I'm a man.

If she has a name, she's never told me it. If she has an existence outside the times we're together, she has yet to divulge it either. Naturally, I'm curious about where she goes, but she doesn't like being asked questions and I've learned not to press her, because when I do, she simply goes away.

Sometimes I worry about her existence. I get anxieties about schizophrenia and carefully study myself for other symptoms. But if she's a delusion, it's singular, and otherwise I seem to be as normal as anyone else, which is to say, confused by the barrage of input and stimuli with which the modern world besets us, and trying to make do. Who was it that said she's always trying to understand the big picture, but the trouble is, the picture just keeps getting bigger? Ani DiFranco. I think.

Mostly I don't get too analytical about it
—
something I picked up from her, I suppose, since left to my own devices, I can worry the smallest detail to death.

We have long conversations, usually late at night, when the badgering clouds swallow the stars and the darkness is most profound. Most of the time I can't see her, but I can hear her voice. I like to think we're friends; even if we don't agree about details, we can usually find common ground on how we'd like things to be.

Don't make of us

more than what we are,

she said.

We hold no great secret
…

—S
ASKIA
M
ADDING,

“Arabesque” (
Moths and Wasps,
1997)