After their heavy conversation, Little Lu sat cross-legged on the blank ground, her head tilted as she stared at Al. He hovered nearby, his pages fluttering idly as if catching an invisible breeze. Lu, deep in thought, rested her chin on her hands. "Food," she muttered. "Food," then she mused, her voice breaking the stillness. "What is food, really? Why do humans eat?" Her wide, curious eyes turned to Al, who hovered nearby, his pages fluttering as though in thought.
Al perked up—or at least as much as a sentient book could. "Pardon?"
"Food," Lu repeated, a slight grin forming on her lips. "You've shown me so many things, Al. Stars, planets, stories, people… But food? You barely touched on it. Why?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Do books not eat?" Al's pages flapped in a huff. "Well, forgive me, Lu, for not prioritizing the culinary arts. You've never seemed particularly interested before. Besides, I don't exactly have taste buds."
"Maybe you should," Lu teased, poking his cover. "Come on, show me something! I want to learn about food."
"Food," Al began, his tone deliberate, "is both sustenance and joy. It's a necessity for survival but also a creation of culture, a symbol of life's pleasures." Lu tilted her head, her finger pausing mid-circle. "So, it's... like art you can eat?" Al's pages stilled for a moment before fluttering again. "An apt description, Lu." Lu, look at him with tilted head can't understand his messages. "I wish I could see it, Al. All those dishes you showed me... the ones with colors, textures, and shapes. It's all so beautiful." Her gaze lingered on the blank expanse around them. "This white world... it's so empty. I wonder if..."
Al sighed but obligingly flipped his pages. "Fine, fine. Here—" A vibrant image of a steaming loaf of bread appeared on one of his pages. "This is bread. A staple in many human cultures. Simple, yet—"
Before Al could finish, she reached out and touched Al's pages, stopping on a vibrant image of a steaming loaf of bread. The moment her finger rested on the picture, a ripple of color spread outward from the page, like water disturbed by a pebble. The ripple expanded until, to her and Al's astonishment, a loaf of bread materialized in the air before them, steaming and golden-brown, resting in the middle of the white void.
Al froze, his pages mid-flutter. "What in the—" his voice an odd mix of shock and intrigue. He floated closer, his pages flapping nervously. "Lu, what did you just do?"
Lu's eyes widened. "Did I just—?"
Al sputtered, his voice rising several octaves. "Did you just summon bread?! Lu, this world doesn't even have time! How did you—?"
Lu reached out, tentatively touching the bread. It was solid, soft, warm and real. "I... I don't know! I just... wanted it to appear, and it did." She picked up the bread from and its still warm steaming. "It feels so real, Al!" she turning it over in her hands. It was warm and smelled heavenly. "It's real," she whispered, awe in her voice. "Al, I made this! I MADE BREAD!"
Al spiraled around her, his pages flapping wildly. This shouldn't be possible! The white world is static! Unchanging! How is she doing this? Al's voice dropped to a whisper. "This world... it shouldn't work this way. Nothing in the White World is supposed to change. Yet, you... you bent it to your will."
"Lu, listen to me," Al said urgently, hovering inches from her face. "This is unprecedented. This world—it's not meant to change. It doesn't have the structure for this. You could destabilize everything!" But Lu wasn't listening. Her mind was racing. If I can make bread… What else can I do? Lu turned the bread in her hands, her expression shifting from awe to mischief. "So, you're saying I can create whatever I want?" A mischievous grin spread across her face as an idea struck her. "What about cake?"
Al's pages flapped wildly. "Lu, this isn't a game! This could be dangerous!" But Lu was already grinning, her imagination running wild. "Dangerous? Oh, come on, Al. Let's see what else I can do!" She touched another page, this one displaying an elaborate cake. Instantly, a towering confection appeared, its layers dripping with frosting and adorned with tiny sugar flowers. "Lu, no!" Al cried, but it was too late. The cake appeared before them, majestic and ridiculously decadent.
"Oh my gosh," Lu breathed, her hands clasped together. "This is AMAZING."
"Lu! Stop!" Al protested, his voice rising in pitch. "You're tampering with forces you don't understand!" Al groaned internally. Why me? Why did I get stuck with the one being in this void who defies every rule of existence? "Lu, you have to stop this! You're tampering with forces you don't understand!"
"Tampering?" Lu smirked, plucking a strawberry from the cake. "I'm experimenting! There's a difference." Lu look at her hand and down, "Forces like… THIS?" Lu picked up a handful of frosting from the cake and flung it at him. It splattered against his cover with a wet splat. Before Al could respond, Lu's grin turned devilish. She grabbed a handful of frosting and again she hurled it at him. It splattered across his cover, leaving a gooey mess. "Food fight!" she declared, laughing.
"LU!" Al screeched, flying backward in horror. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Food fight!" she declared once more, grabbing another piece of the cake and lobbing it at him. Al recoiled, sputtering. "Lu! You can't just—! This is—!" He darted upward, narrowly avoiding another glob of frosting. "Stop this at once!" She laughed as Al twisted and turned in the air, desperately trying to avoid the sugary projectiles. "Come on, Al! Don't be such a bookworm!"
"I am LITERALLY a book!" Al shouted, dodging a flying chunk of cake. This is undignified. Utterly undignified! How did my existence come to this? He dodged again, narrowly avoiding a glob of frosting that would have hit his spine. "Lu, you're being ridiculous!" But Lu was relentless. She conjured pies, pastries, and puddings, flinging them with wild abandon. Al dodged and weaved, his voice a chorus of exasperated protests. "Lu, I'm a book, NOT A TARGET!!!"
But Lu was having too much fun to care. She laughed, a carefree, childlike sound that echoed through the white void. For once, this place doesn't feel empty, she thought. It feels alive.
"Oh, lighten up, Al!" Lu laughed, tossing a pie that narrowly missed him. "You're always so serious. Have some fun for once!" Al hovered high above her, his cover glistening with frosting and custard. "Fun? This isn't fun, it's chaos!"
Finally, Al had had enough. He shot upward, out of her reach, his pages dripping with frosting. "Cease this nonsense at once!" Lu pouted, wiping frosting from her fingers. "You're no fun." Lu paused, her laughter fading as she looked around. The pristine white world was now a riot of colors and textures, littered with the remnants of their impromptu battle. She sighed, wiping frosting from her cheek. "Alright, alright. I'll stop."
Al descended cautiously, his pages still trembling. "Thank you. Now, can we please return to something less... chaotic?" he huffed clearly mad in a way. "I am a repository of knowledge, not a target for confectionery warfare!" his voice brimming with indignation. This girl is going to be the end of me. If books could have heart attacks, I'd be on my third by now.
Lu sighed and flopped onto the ground, staring up at the endless white sky. But her mischievous grin quickly returned. Lu's gaze had turned thoughtful. She reached down and touched the ground. "You said this world isn't supposed to change, right? But what if... what if it can? What if I can? If I can make food, maybe I can make other things too."
Al froze. "Lu, don't even think about it."
But Lu was already thinking about it. She closed her eyes, imagining the blue sky from one of Al's stories—vast and endless, with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily across it.
"Lu! STOP IT!", yell Al. Before Al could move towards her, the horizon above them began to shimmer. When she opened her eyes, the white void above them was no longer white. It was blue, dotted with clouds that seemed to stretch forever. Al stared, his pages frozen in mid-turn. "You… You changed the sky." Al floated closer, his voice a hushed whisper. "This world was never meant to be anything but white. Yet, you've turned it into... this." He gestured to the sky and lake. "Do you realize what this means?" Al stared, his pages frozen in mid-turn.
Lu stood up, looking around in amazement. "I did."
"Lu," Al said cautiously, his voice trembling, "this is… unprecedented. Dangerous, even. You don't understand the implications of what you're doing."
But Lu wasn't listening. She looked down at the ground, her mind racing. What if the ground wasn't white either? What if it was… Slowly, the endless white ground transformed into a vast, crystal-clear lake. The surface mirrored the sky above, which itself began to shift, filling with soft blue hues and fluffy white clouds. She touched. Lu stepped onto it, her bare feet barely making a ripple. Lu looked down at her reflection in the water, her expression a mix of pride and uncertainty. "It means... I'm not just a part of this world. I can change it."
Al descended slowly, hovering above the lake's surface. "This isn't possible," he murmured. She's rewriting the rules of this world. How is she doing this?
Lu turned to him, her expression a mix of wonder and determination. "Al, what if this world isn't just empty? What if it's waiting for something—or someone—to shape it?"
Al's voice was heavy with both admiration and unease. "You're rewriting the very fabric of this place, Lu. But with power like this comes responsibility. You must be careful." Al didn't know how to answer the phenomenon that is happening. For the first time in his long, strange existence, he was at a loss for words. Who is she? What is she?
Lu smiled, the reflection of her face shimmering in the lake below. "I think I'm starting to understand, Al. This world… it's not just white. It's a blank canvas. And I'm the artist." Lu giggles at him, "I'll be careful. But... isn't it exciting? To think that this world doesn't have to stay the same? That it can be... whatever we want it to be?"
Al watched her in silence, his pages ruffling softly in the breeze she had conjured. For the first time, he felt something he couldn't quite name. Was it fear? Or was it hope?
Al sighed, his pages rustling softly. This girl is going to be the end of me. But even as he thought it, he couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. Perhaps, this world is not just a White world.
To be Continued.....