There are Holders out there who would kill to safeguard their Object, up to and including all human life. There are many more who have gone mad with the loss of that Object to Legion, grasping now only at shadows, memories and traditions of agony. There are some who would willingly give their Object away to the first Seeker that managed to find them; still others are desperate to find a Seeker to replace them, and would beg to die if they could still speak anything but their tale.
And then, there's me.
What do I mean by that? Well, I'm somewhere in-between. I'm either-or. I don't mean to imply that I'll necessarily give away my Object to the first happy-go-lucky, oh-my-gosh-I'm-gonna-get-a-real-Object Seeker that crosses my path, of course. I do, admittedly, have a few... requirements.
You ever get that feeling of not knowing what you were supposed to do? Like walking into a room, then looking all around the room, and then realizing that you didn't even want to go in at the first place?
That's my calling card. It's my true name.
I'm most often found in the early hours before sunrise, in a quiet house that is not your own, where some people are sleeping and you can hear voices in another room. It might be the TV; did that door lock behind you? If you ever come by one of these moments, and you actually do want to meet me, then this is what you should say, "I, err... want to, eh... no. I mean, see the Holder of, no, um... Indecision.
Yes, those pauses and clutch words should be part of what you say. Your mileage may vary, of course; feel free to ignore my advice, if it suits you. You may find that something else works better. Or worse, of course. Without the correct words, though, you may find yourself transported immediately to my brother's domain.
Trust me, even though he used to be a ruthless, sadistic, and overall brutal monster of a human, he was nothing compared to what he is now, as the Holder of the Oxymoron.
Where was I? Right, if you do utter that incantation, and do it correctly, you will instantly feel faint. Your words will be slurred, your vision blurry, and you will feel the urge to sleep. If you value your sanity, don't.
Your indecision on whether to sleep or not to sleep is the only thing protecting you from forces beyond even His control; there are far more pleasant ways to lose your mind, I assure you.
You now have a mission. You must stay in this state for twenty-four hours, no more, no less. Don't worry, I'm a fair Holder. As soon as that last second is up, if you haven't yet succumbed to the pounding in your head and fallen asleep, you will suddenly find that your senses have returned, and they are fully functional.
You'll be red-green colorblind forever, or course. That's a given. And nothing will taste quite right, ever again.
But you will also find that you aren't quite on Earth anymore.
Welcome to my world. This is the land of Specna, and although you may still see many aspects of your own life here, you will find that many things are... half-finished.
Birds only have one wing, the traffic lights are permanently orange, and people are constantly shifting listlessly from one destination to another. Objects of human construction are tumbled-down and ruined, if not stretched and warped; living things are often bisected hideously, as if sliced in twain or pulled in two directions simultaneously.
I've been told that the place is deeply depressing; the half-light of the shifting eclipses and the cold, greyish rain are apparently quite unpleasant. I'm given to understand that sound carries poorly here, as well, especially below the ground in the wet catacombs.
I'm ambivalent about the place, myself.
Anyways, find my office. This shouldn't be too hard... who am I kidding? Of course it will be hard. The only way I can help you is that I'll send along my calling card when you happen to be in my direct vicinity.
Finding me may take a great deal of time. There's one fellow who has been here, Seeking, since at least the eighties. If, at any point, you want to give up and go home, well ... good for you! Start looking for a way out. It can't be harder to find the exit than it is to find me, I presume.
Once you go into my office, you'll see me. My profession changes for every Seeker, but I'll always have something on my desk with two options, which I will be puzzling over, be it a questionnaire, a mortgage form, or even an autopsy report.
If you don't see me, well, I hope you enjoy waiting forever for the demon's decision on whether to eat you, or just plain kill you.
Take a pen from my desk. Any colour, I don't mind. Although there are some I like better than others, in all honesty; do try to be courteous. Circle the option that you think is correct. Be warned, this may not be an easy choice. Once you think you've made the right decision, lean in close, and whisper, "Why can't they make our choices?"
If you've made the "wrong" choice, fret not. I don't have punishments as harsh as eternal damnation, but I will remove your ability to think decisively, cursing you to a life on Earth with all your choices made by others. You will lose your own free will, and will become a puppet and a servant of fate. From what I've been told, the worst part is that that the future formation of positive long-term memories is apparently a conscious choice: you'll exist in a fugue state, aware but unable to remember much except waiting in line, trying to understand where you are, or agreeing to the various unpleasant things people tell you to do.
If, however, you made the "right" choice, not only will I tell you the answer to your question, you're free to go.
I'll even toss you a coin on your way out. It belongs to Legion, as a matter of fact, and to a number of other Seekers - many of them long dead - so don't be too shocked when it goes missing at some point.
It might turn up again. Also, it might not.
When you come face to face with a difficult decision in life, flip the coin. If it lands heads, both choices will result in a gain. If it lands tails, they will both result in a loss. If you catch it at the halfway point, either selection will be a mixture of each.
Keep in mind it can only work when there are exactly two choices.
Beg for the promotion or quit. Leave now or stay forever. Marry her or kill her.
The coin is object 2013 of 2538. The choice is yours whether to bring them together or not; why do you think you know best?
Credited to Anonymous