follow on, with a twist of the world we go

It takes a while, for Shulk to wake up. For his mind to be ready to be awake. Or, no. For his body to recuperate, rather, because he's just been dead. Wasn't just killed, actually, but that's besides the point.

These things take time.

That's one of the many, many things Alvis says, when he pops in and out. He's not there all the time, Shulk knows that, but he's there often enough that his presence is somewhat of a constant. Something you can divide by, something you can multiply by, something you can count on even if you can't count by it because it's not cardinal.

(Not a cardinal, either. Not red, and not God. So that's good.)

Shulk would think it a little bit creepy if Alvis hadn't been extant, occupant, in literally every flavor of his dreams for the past few...weeks? months? Convenient to ignore time, to flush it down an unknowable black hole. And really, after it all, we deserve a little bit of convenience.

Some of the quips are simple, basic, aphorismesque. I believe in you, Shulk. You can do it, Shulk.

What can I do? Can I wake up? Can I save my friends? Can I save all the people of the Bionis and all the people of the Mechonis? Can I defeat Zanza?

If you fall, Shulk, I will catch you. I admire you in ways I never knew were possible. Follow on, and you will forge your own path.

So they're not just stock phrases.

Perhaps, a few times, Shulk rolls over, metaphorically if not physically, asks for five more minutes, and Alvis nods, a green power star winking in space, and gives it to him - exactly five minutes, from restingest heart rate to slowest blinking rise, the smartest artificially intelligent alarm clock you could ever ask for. No violence necessary. No good can come from haste, after all.

For a moment, Shulk wonders, is this the last he'll see of Alvis? Will the mysterious man, myth, anti-storied legend blink out of existence after the human (the weak, weak human, and is this why I was always so frail, so sickly, as a child?) has been remerged, reemerged, into real life?

Maybe his purpose has been exhausted. Maybe he doesn't need to stick around anymore. The greatest revelation has already come. Hasn't it?

Alvis knows this, feels this, sees this. The uncertainty. The fear. The lack of understanding. He is ever-cryptic. Why should he indulge Shulk in this sentimental, maudlin question? Will you always stay with me?

That's right, Shulk. Do not worry. I am here.

I am here with you. I am here for you.

We have not finished yet.