Touchstone 1 - Stray

near-space was like being underwater. I could lift objects, but things which should be light needed more push, and things I expected to be heavy were buoyed up unexpectedly.
    At first I was just looking. All those trivial domestic things which were familiar and right and how things should be done, instead of the way they’re done on Tare. Which were MINE. I started recording it, a thing which is becoming more automatic with me. Storing memories to re-examine later.
    A lot was missing. The walls and furniture, the bigger and more permanent objects, were solid enough, but most smaller objects were a haze where I could almost make out the outline of what should be there, but it was more a smudge than any kind of substance. The bookshelves were full of the impression of books, blocky and colourful, but there were only one or two shelves – the shelves where Mum keeps her favourites – where I could make out titles or pick anything up.
    The back garden was unexpectedly real. Mum likes having a garden, but she doesn’t spend a lot of time on it, and goes for a cottage garden look: masses of plants and no neat borders or parts which need to be constantly weeded. The plants, the leaves, flowers, were all there. It even had some of the scent, though everything was flattened by a tinny greyness. No blue sky, but a washed out watercolour slate.
    I’d gone outside to look for gates. I’d been able to see the gate we’d used in Tare’s near-space, so I figured my best bet was to look through all the nearby gates until I found one which led to planet instead of Ena and then see whether I was able to get through it.
    No gates. None visible, anyway. I went out to the street and walked down it, looking for any sign, the bitumen very gritty beneath my bare feet but oddly warmer than most everything else. I knew that Muina and Tare were in an area that is considered ‘shattered’, which is why they have so much trouble with Ionoth, but it seemed Earth’s near-space was signally lacking ways in and out of it.
    I don’t know why I wasn’t more scared. I think the cold had blunted my common sense. I knew on a mental level that, rather than being right where I wanted, I was in serious shit. If ever a world ‘memory’ would have monsters, it would be Earth’s. Monsters wearing the faces of people, monsters which did the most awful things to each other, and that didn’t even count current and past non-human predators, let alone the creatures we liked to make up. For all that Australia’s one of the safest places you could possibly live, plenty of bad things have happened there. And I was also cold and hungry and could die of that as readily as being eaten.
    But I was numb to thoughts of danger, and just returned to the outline of my home and sat down on the back patio steps. I couldn’t work out how I’d gotten there, but was sure it wasn’t a dream. The most I could think of doing was to try and find something tangible enough to keep me warm, and then to wander around randomly hoping I could find a gate.
    The spaces seem to be quiet places, and the only noise I’d heard had been something like wind or static, distant but ever-present. I don’t think I heard anything else at all, but I felt a sudden tingle all through me and a sense of something passing. I jerked upright, realising I’d nearly fallen asleep, and stared over my shoulder at the familiar boards of the patio and the sliding door into the kitchen.
    Shadows. The patio table and chairs, sketchily half there, and shadows. Just the faintest hint of shapes, of people, which seemed to get fainter or darker as I moved my head. It didn’t occur to me for a moment that they might be Ionoth. Filled with hope, I stood and began casting about, walking back and forth until I found the best spot to see them, standing right in the frame of the sliding door, facing outwards. I knew Dad straight away – he’s tall and he tends to stoop. Mum was sitting down. The short shadow had to be Jules. Just there, right in front of me.
    I knew shouting was pointless – I’d already seen that sound didn’t carry across. Reaching out with my fingers and trying to tear a hole did nothing. It was all just air, with no edges I could catch. But with just an odd thickness which reminded me of the gates First Squad had taken me through. I concentrated on that, on the idea of resistance, of there being something between my world and me, something that if I could only touch, I could push