epilogue:mary-mary_dean [Origin Story]

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=====Mary-Mary Dean=====

The building stands. Tall, resolute. Imbued with intent; to last, rooted in the ground, one of the many great columns rearing up out of the world that make Citropolis what it is: City. But this intent is old, and it’s facing off against the new. Not just the girl with the void at her fingertips. A whole construction crew, intentions united, channelling them through a spark. //Her// spark. This is at the heart of it. It always was. Intent. Align it right, really get people committed to a shared purpose, get enough people together… well, you just might be able to store a derelict old building.

Mary-Mary’s Big Idea was greeted with scepticism, at first. They usually are. But she’s proven she can carry heavy objects from place to place, make the work go a lot quicker. If she can speed it up even more, but they can be part of the process… Best of both worlds, right? They tried it on smaller things first, and yes, she grinned smugly, she was right, she’d tested it out before, after all. The more intentions behind a thing, the more united in purpose, the bigger the change they can make.

She’s worked in many jobs (clearing things, moving them, cutting them cleanly away), always memorably, and never for long. Sometimes the intent has stopped meshing. Sometimes (most-times, let’s be honest) she just wants a new challenge. New limits to test.

Constantine (she got a text from him earlier, she remembers, a photo of his new apartment) has adjusted to walking the paths of life in real time better than she thought he would. Perhaps he didn’t really trust the inventory after he nearly lost his sister… Perhaps he’s just enjoying taking the time to appreciate the world around him. The meaning, the purpose, the intent, poured into every square inch of this sprawling monster of a city. Does it add up to anything, any grand single meaning, any answer? Does it overcome that void of gnawing uncertainty that tugs at us? Maybe not. It’s made up of discreet pieces when all’s said and done, each storable, each meaningful and special. It’s our intent that gives meaning to them, lets them work together in a grand machine. If enough of us work together, what can't we accomplish?

Under the combined weight of the construction workers’ will, the tower vanishes, falls into nothingness. A space opens up, for something new.
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