Four tops river deep mountain high
Our Right to Rule
2016.11.20 14:34 Our Right to Rule
#We're cleaning things up for the next week or so - we'll reinvite everyone again. Don't worry!
2023.05.29 17:32 Odd_Beat431 Tina Turner, The Link Between Two Legends, 1966: Phil Spector's "River Deep-Mountain High"
 | submitted by Odd_Beat431 to TinaTurner [link] [comments] |
2023.05.29 17:25 IskoLat Mikhail Kalinin. "The People of Lithuania Are on a New Path"
 | submitted by IskoLat to BalticSSRs [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/5688p24fwr2b1.jpg?width=895&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3021b4d79926759d554a2a85c503a6ff45ccadc9 On July 14-15 of 1940, elections to the People's Parliament [Liaudies Seimas] were held in Lithuania. These elections had an unusual content and significance compared to previous elections. Here the false declarations and unrealistic promises of all kinds of benefits to the people, which the bourgeois parties usually made, were put aside and pushed into obscurity by two cardinal issues: 1) On the proclamation of Lithuania as a fellow Soviet Socialist Republic and 2) On the accession of the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic into the Soviet Union as a Union Republic. The overwhelming majority of the population took part in the elections - 95.51% of voters compared to 38% of voters who actually took part in the last elections. Moreover, 99.19% of voters voted for the candidates of the Union of the Working People of Lithuania. And this is natural, because the question was clear, understandable to everybody and affected every Lithuanian in one way or another. So, by voting for supporters of Lithuania's accession into the Soviet Union, one thereby determined his attitude to this issue. By voting in 1940, the Lithuanian people, perhaps for the first time in their entire history, could freely reveal their will and their aspirations as a whole, as a people, and, taking advantage of this opportunity, demanded the Soviet system of governance for themselves. https://preview.redd.it/orkigsid6s2b1.jpg?width=960&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=600a561bbc9a4a8db02c0db02471c3b7d7b5d9d1 Reactionaries, enemies of the Soviet system of governance, were enraged by this result. Even the liberal democratic circles threw up their hands in surprise. Unable to find, and unwilling to look for the real reason for such a turn by the Lithuanian people, in the specific conditions of their life, they sought to discredit the elections themselves, the voting procedure. But even here these people suffered a fiasco: the genuine democratic nature of the elections did not give any real grounds for defaming them. And, nevertheless, this did not prevent the reactionary press from coming out with hostile articles and bringing forth, as expected from them, facts invented in the editorial offices. One should not be surprised here. On the contrary, it would be surprising if, say, not the reactionary, but at least the liberal-bourgeois press reacted to these elections positively. In fact, how much work was spent for the political deception of the people, for propaganda and agitation, for school "education", religious influence, administrative pressure, etc.! Mountains of slander were pushed against the USSR, against the Soviet government! It is difficult even to name all the means the Smetona government used to influence the Lithuanian people in order to discourage them from any desire to find out the truth about real life in the Soviet Union, in order to isolate the Lithuanians from even the slightest influence of Soviet culture. For this purpose, it sought maximum isolation of Lithuania from the USSR, not only politically and culturally, but also economically. It seemed that there were no channels, no ways through which the Lithuanian people's ties with the Soviet Union could develop. However, the actual reality cruelly mocked those who worked so zealously to darken the consciousness of the Lithuanian people, those who tried their best to introduce inertia and indifference into the consciousness of the people. At the first opportunity, the Lithuanian people loudly declared: I want to be a member of the Soviet Union! That's what infuriated the enemies of the Soviet form of governance and still infuriates them to this day. What mean reasons pushed the Lithuanian people on the path to the Soviet system, to its accession into the USSR? There are many very convincing reasons. That they are serious is clear to every Lithuanian, because with his mother's milk he was instilled with the thought that the most valuable thing is the independence of his own country, its greatness. But reasonable people had doubts about the "independence" that Lithuania had, uncertainty about its reality, because the facts contradicted it too much. No sooner had the republic organized itself and the government settled in its capital, Vilnius, than a certain Polish general with his detachment of troops seized Vilnius, expelled the Lithuanian government, and the capital of Lithuania was annexed to Poland, and Lithuania lost its largest and most industrialized city. For the sake of decency, the press made a little noise, and that was the end of it. The suzerain powers did not even lift a finger to restore the violated rights of Lithuania, because the attacker was also patronized by them and probably more valuable as an open enemy of the Soviet Union. With Hitler's rise to power in Germany, the specter of Lithuania's "independence" has diminished even more. In 1939, Hitler seized Klaipeda, and the Lithuanian government, filled with fear for its own existence, was glad that the seizure was limited only to the Klaipeda region and the treaty, which in effect included the entire Lithuanian economy in the German economic master plan. I do not want to accuse the government that existed of not wanting to do anything to defend the country, but only to illustrate the phantom nature of the "independence" of Lithuania during that time. It would be a mistake to think that the Lithuanian people did not strive for real independence. In 1919, after the expulsion of German troops, the Soviet government was established in Lithuania, which signed an alliance with Soviet Belarus. But the real independence of Lithuania was quickly liquidated by the Entente and the German troops called into the fight by it. In the language of the European bourgeois press, this was called the "restoration" of Lithuanian "independence". The country's politics and economy developed in accordance with external conditions. After the defeat of the Soviet government, a democratic government was organized. (It was impossible to immediately install a fascist regime after crushing the Soviet government). It didn't last long. Apparently, the common path of development of the Baltic countries was manifested here: the suppression of the Soviet government -> democracy (as a transitional form of power) -> fascism. Obviously, for some "champions" of democracy, fascism is more acceptable, because any democracy, even by a tiny bit, at least for appearance's sake, must do something in the interests of the people. Fascism does not even concern itself with such tasks. That is why fascism in small countries is encouraged by the big "guardians of democracy". The establishment of the fascist regime in Lithuania, the Smetona regime, made Lithuania into a cash cow for German capital. The Germans were not content with just subjugating the Lithuanian economy to their plan. They methodically introduced themselves into all the avenues of Lithuanian life, turning Lithuania into a springboard for an attack on the Soviet Union, which, in fact, they did not hide from Smetona, who shared their thoughts. On the contrary, the preparation of Lithuania's territory for military purposes seemed to justify the introduction of Germans into all the pores of Lithuanian life. In this way, the Germans killed two birds with one stone: 1) They prepared a military bridgehead and 2) Quietly adapted Lithuania into a German Hinterland. The Smetona government saw the danger that threatened the independent existence of Lithuania, and, in fact, did not resist German aggression, trying to curry favor with Hitler, with whose support it now owed its existence to. The only hope of Smetona and his supporters was that they would remain in power under German fascism in one form or another and would exploit at least some part of the people's labor. The above facts clearly show what was really hidden under the decorum of Lithuanian "independence". Smetona's internal policy naturally corresponded to the external one. It consisted in imitation of German fascism, in adapting it to local conditions. Now even the blind can see that fascism with its ideology and politics is a terrible social evil generated by the era of imperialism. Anyone who has been to the south has seen with his own eyes how a huge tree - pine, oak, cypress - was wrapped by a parasitic plant with bright green leaves. With its stems, it presses tightly against the tree, and numerous shoots dig into the bark and pull out the juices. It is possible to save a tree from death only by destroying this parasitic plant. Fascism is a parasite of the state tree. And if the people do not destroy it in a timely manner, it will inevitably lead the country to the greatest of disasters. Experience has shown that fascism is equally fatal for both large and small countries alike. Having no desire to awaken the creative forces of the people, on the contrary, deliberately putting them to sleep, so that it would be easier to turn people into an obedient herd, the fascist leaders, for example, in Hungary, Romania, etc., shouted furiously: "Great Hungary!", "Great Romania!". It was laughable. But all the fascist meanness was hidden behind this farce. As for Smetona, he did not even have this prop. His main desire was to cover up, if possible, his dependence on Hitler, to disguise it in front of the Lithuanian people. The task is difficult and, in fact, impossible, because the Germans climbed and penetrated into all the holes and cracks, seized banks, and through them the industrial enterprises, wholesale trade, flooded the country with their literature, films and generally felt no worse in Lithuania than they would at home. In short: there was, perhaps not quite noticeable to the eyes of an ordinary person, but an inevitable process of germanizing Lithuania [1]. Relations between Germany and Lithuania progressed towards not only the actual but also the formal transformation of Lithuania into a German colony (Smetona's request to Hitler about the entry of German troops into Lithuania). If Smetona, seeing all this danger, even wanted to prevent it, then, having neither material nor military resources, and most importantly, not using the moral support of the Lithuanian people, he would not be able to resist German aggression. Smetona had only one path left, which he followed: no resistance, but harmonizing the life of the whole country with German demands and humble obedience to Hitler. With such a "policy" he decided to prolong the appearance of Lithuania's "independent" existence. Naturally, such a government could not satisfy the people. It could not and did not want to serve the interests of the Lithuanian people. The narrow egoistic interests of this government were closely linked with German interests, and its spiritual demands were related to Hitlerism. It means that the entire state policy of Smetona's government rested on the enrichment of a small handful of people, on the systemic robbery of the people, on the strangulation and all-round emasculation of their national culture. Perhaps there is no country - both in Europe and in the Americas - where Lithuanian migrants who fled from their native country not only from political repression, but even more simply from hunger, would not be found. The Lithuanian intelligentsia, especially the progressive intelligentsia, was not in the best position either. The opportunity to live and breathe was only in leaving, because they had no work in their native country, and fascism stifled every free thought. The fascist octopus tightly wrapped itself around the Lithuanian people and led them to their imminent death. https://preview.redd.it/ipp1pzqt3s2b1.png?width=1280&format=png&auto=webp&s=1de6d0bb0a3864dd560557346226e8f300cfb67e These are the reasons that prompted the Lithuanian people to vote for Lithuania's entry into the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Of course, when voting, the Lithuanian people not only desired to get rid of the unbearable conditions in which their life took place, but they fully took into account the benefits and advantages that the Soviet system brings them. One of the serious factors is that the Lithuanian people, having joined the USSR, acquired real independence. The enemies persistently insist that Lithuania is dependent, since it is one of the sixteen republics in the Union. But these are all enemy fairy tales. Why are entrepreneurs organized into government trusts, syndicates and enterprises? They will say that there is a naked calculation of increased profits from the monopoly. Yes, that's right. True, some of the propertied classes hypocritically condemn them for this from a "moral" point of view. But only the workers' organizations are really fighting them. And trusts, syndicates and enterprises are developing and growing stronger. At the same time, it does not occur to any entrepreneur that he is losing his industrial independence. I will give other examples. Now everywhere workers and employees unite in trade unions. Who can say that they lose their personal freedom and independence at the same time? Moreover, the trade unions of workers and employees of any state strive to be members of an international professional organization. And this is quite natural, because each of them understands that this is the only way the one can defend personal freedom and independence. Furthermore, a peasant, protecting his well-being, enters a cooperative, and the coop association formed in the country links up with cooperative organizations of other countries, and there is already an international cooperative association - the alliance. Only moneylenders, predatory traders and speculators can shed crocodile tears over the fact that peasants that are united in cooperatives cease to be independent landowners. Every association is an organization that restricts an individual to one degree or another. For example, the same peasant, who is a member of a cooperative, undertakes to hand over all or part of his marketable products to the coop. This restricts the peasant in his freedom to dispose of his products in a way. But in reality, the coop protects him from a predatory buyer. The USSR has sixteen Union republics with a well-known, but equal limitation of their sovereignty. They form a single union state with a different national way of life, with a diverse national form of culture and historical past. Only the Soviet system and Lenin's national policy ensure and guarantee them unbreakable unity and genuine friendship, real freedom and independence. Protecting the whole, the Soviet system and Lenin's national policy give full opportunity for the unlimited development of each republic, every nationality… The enormous work by our party to create and strengthen the multinational state has been a complete success. Comrade Stalin said the following: "The absence of the exploiter classes, which are the main masterminds behind the international conflict; the absence of exploitation, with its mutual distrust and brewing nationalist passions; the presence of power of the working class, which is the enemy of all enslavement and a faithful bearer of the ideas of internationalism; the actual implementation of mutual assistance of peoples in all areas of economic and social life; finally, the flourishing of the national culture of the peoples of the USSR, national in form, socialist in content - all these and similar factors have led to the following: the appearance of the peoples of the USSR has radically changed, the feeling of mutual distrust has disappeared in them, a sense of mutual friendship has developed in them and, thus, real fraternal cooperation of peoples has been established in the system of a single union state. As a result, we now have a fully developed multinational socialist state that has withstood all the tests of time, the strength of which could be envied by any nation-state in any part of the world" [2] During the Great Patriotic War, the strength of the cohesion of the peoples of the Soviet Union, based on Lenin's national policy, withstood enormous trials. The war with fascist Germany and its satellite states clearly showed how valuable the Soviet Union is for every Union Republic. The enemy occupied all of Lithuania and went far beyond its borders to the east. It seemed that the country had perished under the Nazi boot. But far from the Lithuanian borders, near Orel, a Lithuanian division fought in the All-Union Red Army. And in the capital of the Soviet Union, Moscow, there was a Lithuanian government that called upon and organized, as much as possible, the forces capable of fighting inside Lithuania. No matter how loud the German military drums thundered, no matter how much fascist propaganda tried to distort the actual situation on the fronts and in the rear of the Soviet armies, no matter how cruelly the Gestapo tortured Soviet patriots, the Lithuanian people heard and saw that a fierce struggle for their liberation was going on. This undoubtedly inspired him with great confidence in victory, inspired the partisans in their difficult and daring struggle in the distant rear of the enemy, and their heroic actions, in turn, raised the spirit and morale of the people. The names of Marytė Melnikaitė, Urbanavičius (Kurmelis), Apyvala, Vladas Baronas, Jacinavičius, Motieka and others have earned glory not only by themselves, but also because they embody the best traditions of the Lithuanian people, their heroism and boundless devotion to their Homeland. Bronius Urbanavičius Next, let's take the work efficiency of the people as a whole. Statesmen, industrialists, journalists of capitalist countries continuously call for increased labor productivity as the basis of the country's well-being. The fascist Lithuanian government was not far behind in this. But with the policy pursued by this government, with Lithuania's economic dependence on Germany, the limits of increasing labor efficiency were very limited, and this increase was mainly directed at greater exploitation of the workers. Lithuania's economic development also had purely objective limitations: the small territory of the country, the absence of the main elements necessary for production - coal, iron and generally valuable ores, its predominantly agrarian nature. All this, as it were, naturally predetermined the backwardness of Lithuanian industry and, what is most tragic, the lack of prospects in the future. By joining the Soviet Union, the Lithuanian people radically transformed the economic situation of their country. From an appendage of Germany, from the backwater of Europe, Lithuania received unlimited opportunities to turn into an advanced and highly developed national republic, as a full member of the great Union. Now her household will be built in a new way. The structure of the industry will change, it will acquire a character corresponding to modern advanced state of technology. It is now provided with a powerful raw material base and an unlimited market for the sale of its products. There are no objective obstacles to specialization, and hence to increase in the efficiency of labor, as the basis of welfare of the people. In fact, what can now prevent the construction of any factory specialized in the production of any type of goods? Nothing but a shortage of skilled workers, engineers and technical personnel among Lithuanians. I will illustrate my point with an example. In Lithuania, for example, a machine tooling or machine-building plant is being erected. The Union as a whole needs thousands of machines, the plant also produces thousands of machines, but the Republic of Lithuania can use only hundreds or dozens of machines - such is its need for the kind of machines that this plant produces. Wouldn't it be better for the plant to produce machines only for this republic? Of course, technically it is possible, but economically it will be irrational, unprofitable, production will become artisanal and, most importantly, the quality of products will be worse, productivity is much lower. In this way, not only will we not get closer to the American technological level, but we will move away from it, even if the plant had first-class equipment. But the socialist economy strives for a higher productivity of labor than that which capitalism is able to create in its most advanced countries. Thus, in order to have high labor productivity and its efficiency, it is not enough to have a wish and even a desire to have it, but we also need the appropriate economic and social conditions that the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics gives to all constituent republics. With these arguments, I do not want to belittle or downplay the importance of local or Republican industry, which mainly fulfills local needs. But local industry can also work productively only if it is abundantly supplied with good machines. This is well understood by the leaders of the Republics, who also bear responsibility for the enterprises of all-Union significance. The Soviet government invested a lot of money and labor in the development of agriculture, which became the largest and most mechanized agriculture in the world. It has become productive, of which the best proof is the satisfaction of its military needs. Lithuanian agriculture is considered productive, it produced significant products for export. But we cannot close our eyes and ignore the fact that this productivity was based on the enormous exertion of the peasantry, on the hard work of the middle peasant on his farm and the farmhand in a larger farm. Physical labor took up their entire lives, leaving no time to satisfy their spiritual needs. Under the Soviet system of governance, the Lithuanian peasant will not agree to such a life. His public interests are rapidly expanding, cultural demands are growing, which require time to satisfy themselves. The Soviet government highly values labor, celebrating labor feats with awards. But at the same time, it spares no expense to increase cultural and political education of the village. All this imperiously requires mechanization, the introduction of modern agricultural machines adapted to Lithuanian conditions. These are the ways and means by which the Soviet government increases labor productivity both in industry and in agriculture. Undoubtedly, the Lithuanian people are using these opportunities to their fullest. Of course, it is not easy to move forward the economy and culture of the entire country, especially if it has a lot to catching up to do. But the life of the people, their well-being, demand this first and foremost. The creative forces of the people are inexhaustible, you just need to be able to awaken them. The questions that I have asked casually and slightly indicate the enormous and complex nature of the tasks facing the Lithuanian people and its intelligentsia. Fulfilling the program set by the Communist Party, the Union Government not only protects, but also ensures the flourishing of national culture of each Union republic, the established customs and, in particular, the native language of its peoples. It creates all the necessary conditions for the fruitful work of the intelligentsia in its field. Therefore, the Lithuanian intelligentsia bears full responsibility to its people for the cultural prosperity of the republic. The national school is the first step in human development, the most important stage in the process of forming an active citizen and a patriot of his Homeland - therefore, it must be at the Homeland's top priority. During the implementation of this program, the Homeland should instill in the younger generations a love for their native language, folk songs, native landscape and at the same time expand the horizon of students as future citizens of the Soviet Union, and collectively instill in them a love for the great and multinational Motherland – the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. From this we see that the understanding of all-Union Soviet patriotism is not opposed to the local one. It is from local patriotism, as a popular source, that patriotism grows towards the Soviet system of governance, towards the USSR as a whole. I think the Lithuanian government helps a lot and in the future will allocate even more of its resources towards the development of literature in the Lithuanian language, especially original fiction, drawing its plots from Lithuanian folk life and contributing to the awakening of new creative forces in the people. Without a doubt, Lithuania will take an honorable place among the Union republics in the development of all kinds of art and sports, and its folk choirs will be an inexhaustible source for the development of national music and theater. https://preview.redd.it/5oo4a5c1fs2b1.jpg?width=805&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7d15083c272edffd9f4f5f3a8e8285210e4f05f8 The war is over. The shackles that bound the creative forces of the Lithuanian people have been removed forever. I sincerely wish the Lithuanian people success in building their Soviet state, in the development of industry, agriculture and culture, national in form and socialist in its content. "Soviet Lithuania" No. 289, December 28, 1945 Printed according to the text of the newspaper Notes: [1] As it turned out from the documents presented by the American prosecution at the Nuremberg Trials, the Germans planned to completely destroy the Baltic States and resettles their peoples, in particular Lithuanians, to Belarus. The essence of Rosenberg's instructions on this issue was reduced in practice to the destruction of the Lithuanian people. "The solution to the colonial problem," he wrote, "is not the Baltic question per se, but a question that concerns greater Germany and it must be resolved accordingly." [2] Josef Stalin. Problems of Leninism, 2nd Ed., Gospolitizdat, 1953, pp. 551-552.-582. (in Russian) Source: Калинин М.И. Статьи и речи (1941-1946 гг.). ЛИТОВСКИЙ НАРОД НА НОВОМ ПУТИ (292-296). |
2023.05.29 17:22 Mission-Raccoon9432 Character Study: The Full Truth about Gorou Amamiya or Aqua Hoshino PART I
Hello again!
Actually my head hurts and my back hurts too. Maybe even my heart. I wrote this essay for 2 days straight. It is of better quality than my previous pieces, both in content and style. It's also the longest so I felt an obligation to deliver it as interesting as possible. Extensive essays are pretty tendious, I'm aware but I think I created an insightful and stimulating analysis for a character that doesn't get the attention he deserves. This is not just a hollow phrase, as I claim this essay uncovers unheard of depths of Gorou Amamiya respectively Aqua Hoshino.
Preamble
In the past we discussed Ruby's genius during her Audition with Frill and Akane. To sum it up: She's acting her whole life as the innocent and pure idol girl Ruby Hoshino but what fuels the encryption of her true self is her traumatized core identity as Sarina which she hides through acting.
Since this identity was passed down to her new life, her trauma was likewise passed down as well and as a result it predispositions her new life's psyche. After the loss of Ai and Gorou she yet again finds herself trapped in a repetitive cycle of her previous trauma of parental abandonment. That's why in her deep reflection during the audition she would overlap Sarina's and Ruby's psychograms seamlessly. It's the same all over again.
We discussed yesterday Gorou as Ruby's father figure while evidently Ai had a function as a mother figure to her (to Sarina actually) - or to be more precise the loss of both as surrogate parential figures associated as dear to her heart people triggered Sarina's trauma of an abandoned child through Ruby again. This in short is the nature of her repetitive traumatic cycle. Sarina-Ruby is acting a smile in both lifes while nobody seems to notice the ugly feelings deep inside her. Even when she had a reverse act coming out at the audition, Frill and Akane wouldn't conceive that these feelings weren't part of her auditional act but actually the naked truth.
However the point of this essay is not to talk about Ruby - although she will certainly be useful - but this time to explore to which extent the predisposition from the past life and the traumatic repetitive cycles are as principles applicable to Aqua in order to gain access into the very dephts of his soul. This will allow us to methodically understand the true nature behind his lately menacing character plot. I swear it's the first time you hear these takes.
In the long run this essay will also substantiate my analysis of Ruby, because if this is applicable to Aqua too then it's fair to say that we uncovered a symmetrical primary structure the Author intended to construct for these twins. (Mirror) Symmetrrial relations are indeed indicated between them on a lot of levels, some essays on this sub discuss that exhaustively.
*
So, we established Sarina's traumatic identity to be a predispositional factor for Ruby, vice versa we now have to establish the same for Aqua. It'd be misleading to ignore Gorou's core identity if we want to grasp Aqua's actions - or perhaps even his acting? Aqua too is stuck in a repetitive cycle triggered from his past life's supressed trauma. We will in this essay explore the depths of it like never done before. Eventually we gain a completely different understanding of revenge that actually haunts him more than it does Kamiki.
You kow, the other day I read an essay where the OP would refuse to call Aqua Aqua anymore and instead refers to him now as "Aquamarine" because he/she is apparently mad at his current behaviour. This to me is kinda funny but also instructive because it goes to show a fundamental misunderstanding of his character, which I believe is shared by many people. Be mad at Gorou Amamiya - if you dare - because this would actually be engaging.
However, we will see that he is like Ruby stuck in another repetitive cycle of trauma and the purpose of this essay is to raise awareness while not to excuse him blatantly but to point to the tragic and dramatic nature of his mind and soul. Because at this point it's safe to say that what we currently see is literally what we get. Aqua will not become visibly handsome any time soon. Better aknowledge and comprehend his actions now and save yourself later from phony bitterness, anger and other unreflected undermining reactions. Instead that be bitter and angry with compassion. Because if you don't appreciate his struggle you won't fully grasp the Cathasis that follows, which - under the impression that Aka is cooking some really good stuff - would be a shame. Finally I'm strongly hoping that this essay might enhance some people's future chapter reading experience.
Without further edo lets dive into it.
Gorou Amamiya
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp on and that's mainly because his cope is vague while his upfront personality apppears mature and he as an individual is also highly functional, both as Gorou and Aqua. He appears to us as a well adjusted middle aged man: He went to the Medical University in Tokyo, dated women sucessfully and eventually became a Doctor and kinda just knows how to handle stuff. He is also a walking encyclopaedia, so feel free to ask him anything!
On the contrary site: Gorou seems to be a loner, an Otaku in denial who lives quite isolated in Japan's rural backwaters. After his study years in Tokyo he moved back to his hometown. We don't know the exact reason why he voluntarily choose this kind of isolation, probably to take care of his grandmother. When he came back to the hospitel as Aqua he referred to his coworkers as "colleagues I was close to" which implies a certain distance and a lack of other related people in the town like for instance actual friends that he would want to meet. After he learned that nobody of his past colleugues work there anymore the "social question" of his past life fizzled out.
The rural working place granted him a lot of free time at the hospital, So he met his emotionally undemanding social life with escapism into Idol-Culture respectively Ai Hoshino. And surely this "quirk" is the first indication that this man doesn't just maintain an introverted but healthy Work-Life-Balance as a doctor but actually tries to cure away some void: A normal man just doesn't scream joyful in a patient's room like a fanatic over an Idol show. This beginning scene doesn't just serves as a quirky comic relief but sets a fundamental tone to his character. A little later the coworking woman in EP 1 wouldn't quite believe his copium about a shared memory with Sarina as the reason for his idolization of Ai. And since he didn't gave her a clear answer if he would or wouldn't date Ai he at the same time disclosed a personal obsession as to be part of his allegedly idealistic and pure motives. We will get back to their conversation later, as we will find out that Gorou was actually honest and righteouss about his claims.
I know, I know. Still haven't mentioned the elephant in the room:
His dead mother.
What is Guilt?
When for Ruby the reoccuring event of her traumatic cycle is parental abandonment then for Gorou it is the feeling of guilt "for being born at the expense of his mother" (C75). In other words to feel responsible for her death.
Gorou lost his mother during his birth but he eventually got adopted by his Grandmother who took the role as his mother figure. The fact that he was actually raised by family laid the foundation for a some what functional personality. In fact he for his personal development received maternal love from his grandmother, thus the trauma which he recycled over Ai's death is fundamentally different from Ruby's.
But at the same time... it isn't different at all. Here is the why:
What is Love?
We found out in the essay about Gorou as Ruby's father-figure that she'd eventually develope a romantic love interest for her father-figure due to the stagnation of her psychological development as part of her inherited "curse" through reincarnation with her trauma. While Ruby's body would mature and develope, likewise Ichigo as a father-surrogat is not present in her life, Sarina's soul would still be bounded to a confused relationship she development during her hospitalization. Sarina's love for Gorou was a childish inmature expression in a phase where the father is the only male person of interest in a young girl's life. But the anxiety to lose a dear father like figure again after she was abandoned by her biological father would also urge her to express a childish romantic interest for her Doctor. If he marries her he can never leave her again. A differentiation and overcoming of this developmental phase didn't happen for Ruby because the memory of Gorou would force herself in a obsessive spiral until she confused herself to desire actual romantic love from him, her father-figure. The playful jokes about marriage when Sarina becomes 16 have turned to a personal life goal of Ruby. When she found out about his death it triggered the trauma of parental abondenment and unleashed all her self-destructive feelings. A death wish that already was present during her life as Sarina and after Ai's death but had been intercepted by Miyako as a new mother and also through the hope and longing for Gorou's acceptance of her - both as Sarina and Ruby, but moreso in Ruby because this confused desire found a fleshed out embodiment in a sexually developed girl's body.
Well and Gorous obsession over the Idol Ai isn't that far off from this. Because what Gorou actually seeks from Ai is unconditional love. The kind of love that isn't just receivable by a surrogate mother but the very personal love that only a biological mother can give to her child in the very early infant stage. In Ai's eyes he would feel a kind of dangerous tease of this deeply hidden desire and while he never actually understood the reason of this longing or even that it's related to a surpressed trauma over his dead mother, he do felt mystically pulled into Ai's realm and felt a glimpse of hope for unconditional "Ai" (Ai when written in Kanji means Love) through her idolization.
But keep in mind that he is a full grown man. He already experienced a mostly sufficient mother figure in his life - the Grandmother. Of course he would never realize what the cause for his troublesome obsession over this teenage girl Ai Hoshino really is about. He eventually developes just as Ruby for Gorou a confusing sexual interest for the "unconditionally loving mother" that he projects onto Ai. Likewise Ruby developed a sexual interest for her idolized father figure Gorou.
Interestlingly enough the chat with his coworker on the roof about Ai fully displayed his confusion. In this scene she was a bit like a therapist, while he would reveal his trauma to her. The irony of course is that neither he nor her realize it: On the one hand he indeed seeks pure and idealistic form of "Ai", unconditional love of a mother for her childt. At the same time it's distorted by his sexual maturity which would try to find fullfillment through romantic and sexual "ressources".
The romantic fantasy is an impuls of the conflicted adult body that carries an infant's hidden wish. An unfulfilled infant lives deep inside of Gorous heart as a surpressed trauma over his mother's death who couldn't give him the most exclusive form of maternal love.
*
The Selfish Love
We found the inverted similarity between Ruby's attachment to Gorou and Aqua's attachment to Ai. But it's worth to point out that in relation to Ai - and what I mean by that the quality of the relation Aqua -> Ai vs. Ruby -> Ai - there is a crucial difference in the form of love they want from her and it is mainly rooted in the different developmental phases they both are "stuck" in terms of the form of desired maternity.
Ruby's longing for a mother is transferable. Since she probably received the kind of unconditional love of an infant herself but was only abandoned at a later age when she became sick, Sarina could compensate it with Ai's love and even Miyako's after Ai's death. Ruby was kinda temporarly stabilized since she believed in meeting her idolized father again. It's not like Ai's death hasn't affected her but she is in her longing for maternal love actually more mature than Gorou. I will explain later how. Ai is for Ruby from this point of view "interchangable" just like Marina. But it is a yet to observe in the coming chapters how and when Sarina will "release herself and her mother from the expectation that a mother should love her child" (C119) but to me it seems like Sarina has a solid foundation to overcome this issue through her movie role of Ai.
But what about the kind of love Gorou craves for? Well for once we know that he doesn't seek something transferable because in fact a transfer that could cover the kind of maternal Love Ruby seeks he already received from his Grandmother. He wants the pure, innocent and idealistic love of a mother for his infant, for him it can only be re-created and satisfied in the impossible yet odd realm of supernaturality, A reincarnation as an actual infant with intact memories of his past life in the hands of an actual loving mother. This is the only but also the absolute solution to meet the innocent and pure minded wish of the traumatized infant crying in Gorous heart.
A normal well adjusted adult would perceive this situation as a nightmare. Being a baby stands in the heaviest contrast to the inherited soul of an adult. "I am a f'cking grown man, goddamit. Why am I a baby? I'm right now the most vulnerable, dependend and defenseless being, this situation absolutely opposes my proven and experienced self identity as a grown up" This is what a normal adult would think and he would hate this unintelligible situation he found himself randomly in. It's basically a curse. Also he would want to go back to his family, friends etc. Gorou on the other hand is a loner and suffers a tragic supressed trauma. So now we beginn to see how all the hings come together. Such a joyful and innocent scene as presented in the Manga has a dark meaning behind it.
To embrace the role of a cute liltte baby with the same joy and happiness it implies an actual desire to do so. To assert that this is yet another casual comic relief scene just to start his interesting journey as a MC misses the point. The plot started when he fanatically cheered up his Idol over the TV of a patients room.
Likewise here and there his personal desire in Ai and "Ai" would blend out the surounding world. Aqua ignores the premise of his reincarnation that he was murdered by Ai's stalker, because he wants to stimulate his deeply supressed desire. Gorou ignores the patient's needed rest when Ai is on TV, because he wants to stimulate the same desire. In relation to Ai Gorou is selfish right from the start. It's a very inmature selfish love towards her as an Idol and a mother, in fact this form of love is the most inmature and selfish love imaginable because it's born from the tragically denied desire of the most vulnerable and inmature human form: The Infant. In fact, that he as a doctor couldn't supresse his selfish will to disturb a resting patient was a pivotal moment to prelude the great lengths this desire would go to experience stimulation. His behaviour as Ai's baby is a derivation and the purest and most innocent enbodiment. Because this time it's materialized in the body of an actual infant. Gorou has become the human flesh of the traumatically supressed infant's desire living in his heart.
Gorou at this point is absolutely unwilling to give up the situation he found himself in. The infant has completely taken over the adult's mind. At one point he would even thank the culprit and ompletely misjudge the actual situation they are in. This - for such a reasonable and smart but apparently selfless man like Gorou - is astonishing to say the least. In relation of it's meaning in terms of trauma and hidden desire it's comprehensible.
The infant's longing is the most fragile form of love imaginable. If it misses it's chance it's all over again. It only came into life through an absolutely impossible miracle. This selfish little desire, for a long time well hidden as a surpressed trauma, feed by escapism in Idol-Culture, will do anything to blockade interferring reason. The reasonable adult Gorou is completely cut off.
The adult Gorou who's identity as an dedicated professional who is willing to go to great lengths to support his patients while rolling back his personal gain. The adult Gorou that for once let his selfish wish take advantage. This adult Gorou will end with the corpse of his mother in his hands.
The Reenactment of a Tragedy
"Unconditional love" - it should be pure and innocent yet it becomes the very reason for his self-destroying malicous decades long torture and agony.
With the death of Ai Aqua for the first time conscioussly witnesses what until then was just a deeply hidden ugly non-verbalized traumatic experience. Before Ai's death Gorou never realized the existence of it, let alone the depths of it nor how it affects his personality structure.
But now while he is the accomplice witness of an unfolding nightmare - with the heart of an infant and the brain of an adult - the surpressed trauma actually has a real reenactment...
This is probably the most impactful moment of self-realization in the Manga in terms of Gorou's psyche. Yes, Gorou's. These words reflect the core traumatic experience of Gorou's birth that was reenacted by Ai's death. This is not about Aqua and his roleplay as the Son of Ai Hoshino and it's certainly not the trauma of a fan who lost his favorite Idol.
These are the words of a newborn that could never forget the rusted metal-like smell of his mother's blood penetrating his nostrils. Nor could he forget how the warmth slowly left her hand. Can you imagine what he's actually describing her? How his mother was slowly bleeding out and dies while she was holding her newborn in her arms?
Postpartum bleeding or postpartum hemorrhage is often defined as the loss of more than 500 ml or 1,000 ml of blood following childbirth.
They were alone, Gorou was exposed to his dying mother until her last gasp. This shocking tragic accident describes the first moments of his early life as a horrifying Dispair.
And we can immediately see, that Ai's death scene was personally ment for Gorou. It's not a coincidence that Ruby would by shielded behind the milky glassed door while Aqua would be exposed to the fullest with all his senses. It's because the repetitive cycle of his personal trauma was ment to unfold exclusively to him. In the closed door that shields Ruby also symbolizes the earlier expressed maturity of Ruby's seek for maternal love. This little physical gap and the muffled visual and audible senses are a quintessential symbolization of the difference in the form of love Ruby and Aqua seek and quintessential to the importance of the circumstances of her death to each of them.
Likewise Ruby's discovery of Gorou's corpse as a triggering event of her personal trauma through the guidance of the crow was exclusively ment for her to experience. Aqua was "excluded" in the sense that he wouldn't recognize how important that corpse is to Ruby because then it would be immanent that they know each other, which at that point is not in the god's interest.
*
Now you might ask yourself: Okay, but why wasn't his desire fullfilled after some time, for example after he passed by the biological infant state? Why would he crave for this kind of love for years until her death? After some time he should have come to his senses and tell her about the danger, right? And why would he still follow her idol performances as a dedicated fan when we established that the idolization was only a surrogat expression of Gorou Amamiyas surpressed desire?
The Reenactment of True Love
Gorou and Ai share a common goal. Ai wants to unconditionally love somebody and Gorou wants unconditionally to be loved. The reincarnation of Gorou as Ai's son sets the framework for a realization of both wishes.
The unconditonality of Ai's devotion that Gorou seeks from her as a mother isn't fullfilled. He early on realized through the performances he would witness as Aqua on TV that she looks at the camera and her fans with the same eyes and smile as she does at her kids. The purely physical devotion of a mother that takes care of her children like bathing them appears to him as an mechanized act, her mere obligation as a legal guardian. it's like "shaking hands" with a Fan after the idol concert. "Lies are an exceptional form of Love" she said to Gorou on the roof top (btw why is everyone opening up on that roof top, is it really like a therapist session whenever somebody enters it :)) thus he suspect she's acting towards her children the same way like towards her fans. Sure, a normal child wouldn't be that suspicious but Aqua is still a grown man and fully grasps the artificiality of his role as particular Ai's son. Eventually after all those years Aqua would still crave for an actual true expression of unconditional love that is exclusive to him. And Ai still was trying to love somebody but was yet too scared to express it to her children.
Now we can see why he would persist on his role as her son and supersede the danger of the culprit who killed him. For years he would ignore it because for years he was still crave for his desired love.
Just the fact of being supernaturally pushed to be her son wasn't fullfilling the desire of the infant at all, since deception and a lie is the core of this relationship. He would naturally jump back to old habits and absorb more love from the Idol Ai Hoshino over TV. But when Miyako took the twins to her concert and their cute dance triggered Ai's most sincere maternal smile it was actually a great moment of hope for Aqua.
This whole thing with the smile was pretty instructive. Because as you recall Ai was during ego-surfing reading the opinion of a fan who said her smile and expression wouldn't be convincing at all. Well I can't prove that this anonymous poster was Aqua himself but for the point I want to make lets just assume that it exactly articulates the impression Aqua shares with the poster. They both think that she lacks convincing emotionality "on stage" - a mysterious expression because for Aqua who is roleplaying this mother-son-relation it's also as observing her "on stage" at home. And his expectation as a child towards a mother is as obsessive as the expectation of a fan towards his favorite idol.
Unfortunately he gets "betrayed" (or maybe not, I will elabore later) because a little after Ai found this new and wonderful smile she would mechanize the same expression on stage for her fans, thus it lost the unconditional intimate character which should be exclusive between a mother and her child. Ai is the best and most ruthless liar of all time.
At the same time - lets entertain that he in fact was the anonymous poster - Aqua still has a lot of selflessness at his core personality, especially as he grows up, more of the upfront "Gorou" comes out again. It's not odd to assume that he really wanted to help Ai in her development as an famous Idol. I actually like this idea a lot and it's coherent with the type of Guy Gorou/Aqua outside of his very personal desire is: A carrying fine guy who genuinely wants the best for the people he feels close to.
Chronologically it also makes sense. She was holding Aqua on her lap and was complaining about the little money she makes. She was frustated and felt stuck. She said she wants to provide for her family. Then she went to her dance lessons and there she would sit down with her phone and read that message about her smile. Aqua could have predicted that she would ego-surf and therefore posted that tweet. Later on the concert Aqua and Ruby would reveal the "star power" that can influence others. A mirroring "star power" influence Aqua would perform on Kana's first idol concert when she exactly like Ai had trouble to express the sincere smile and joy.
On top of that the apparent "push" of Aqua has a certain providing husband-like character to it. Ai says she wants to provide for the family. In the end it's Aqua's interferrence that supported her wish. In this moment he acted the identity of Gorou the doctor when he was looking out for her best interests as a pregnant woman, a bit like a loving and carrying husband.
In a a future contrasting juxtaposition fine moments like this will help Aqua to realize that the amount of guilt he feels for her death is exaggerated and unfair since he genuinly was also looking after her even as her child. And of course we all remember his influence on Gotanda after she was cut out of his movie.
*
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp and that's because it's coded as emotional raw data into his subconsciousness. There is another very important trauma at the core which prevents him from realizing the importance of that love that was finally granted to him in Ai's last moments. He didn't realize that this was an sincere reenactment of true love his dying mother gave him after his birth. This frame in the anime gives it basically away: Her hair like the hair after an extremely painful deadly birth. She is all sweaty, exhausted and anemic but also the truely happiest woman she ever was. It's like saying: There is no point of feeling guilty, I'm so glad I gave birth to you, my son. I love you...
https://preview.redd.it/6veu0yctbs2b1.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0883f041277110fc0fadca5c8290e63c2ea72e4f
And is there even any base for guilt at all? The chapter "What is Guilt" in this essay turned out to be the shortest one. It's maybe also the grand tragicirony of Aka's story. "Guilt" and revenge for it's sake occupy Aqua's entire purpose in life, yet it has the most fragile irrational foundation, born from trauma and self-misunderstanding. One final thought: It's also not forgiveness. The kind of love that Gorous mother expressed for him after her birth wasn't forgiveness as it implies guilt. No, she is simply happy and unconditonally loved her son. He is not guilty.
* * * *
The next chapter in PART II will be called "The Reeactment of Violence" and in this we will find hidden links between Gorou's trauma with a father-figures in his life, the missing father who impregnated his mother but wouldn't provide for him, how this is reflected on Kamiki but also expressed in Aqua's husband-like behaviour towards Ai, but also his poisoned relationship to his Grandfather and how all of this comes together on the scenery of Ai's murder. And much more....
submitted by Mission-Raccoon9432 to OshiNoKo [link] [comments]
Actually my head hurts and my back hurts too. Maybe even my heart. I wrote this essay for 2 days straight. It is of better quality than my previous pieces, both in content and style. It's also the longest so I felt an obligation to deliver it as interesting as possible. Extensive essays are pretty tendious, I'm aware but I think I created an insightful and stimulating analysis for a character that doesn't get the attention he deserves. This is not just a hollow phrase, as I claim this essay uncovers unheard of depths of Gorou Amamiya respectively Aqua Hoshino.
Preamble
In the past we discussed Ruby's genius during her Audition with Frill and Akane. To sum it up: She's acting her whole life as the innocent and pure idol girl Ruby Hoshino but what fuels the encryption of her true self is her traumatized core identity as Sarina which she hides through acting.
Since this identity was passed down to her new life, her trauma was likewise passed down as well and as a result it predispositions her new life's psyche. After the loss of Ai and Gorou she yet again finds herself trapped in a repetitive cycle of her previous trauma of parental abandonment. That's why in her deep reflection during the audition she would overlap Sarina's and Ruby's psychograms seamlessly. It's the same all over again.
We discussed yesterday Gorou as Ruby's father figure while evidently Ai had a function as a mother figure to her (to Sarina actually) - or to be more precise the loss of both as surrogate parential figures associated as dear to her heart people triggered Sarina's trauma of an abandoned child through Ruby again. This in short is the nature of her repetitive traumatic cycle. Sarina-Ruby is acting a smile in both lifes while nobody seems to notice the ugly feelings deep inside her. Even when she had a reverse act coming out at the audition, Frill and Akane wouldn't conceive that these feelings weren't part of her auditional act but actually the naked truth.
However the point of this essay is not to talk about Ruby - although she will certainly be useful - but this time to explore to which extent the predisposition from the past life and the traumatic repetitive cycles are as principles applicable to Aqua in order to gain access into the very dephts of his soul. This will allow us to methodically understand the true nature behind his lately menacing character plot. I swear it's the first time you hear these takes.
In the long run this essay will also substantiate my analysis of Ruby, because if this is applicable to Aqua too then it's fair to say that we uncovered a symmetrical primary structure the Author intended to construct for these twins. (Mirror) Symmetrrial relations are indeed indicated between them on a lot of levels, some essays on this sub discuss that exhaustively.
*
So, we established Sarina's traumatic identity to be a predispositional factor for Ruby, vice versa we now have to establish the same for Aqua. It'd be misleading to ignore Gorou's core identity if we want to grasp Aqua's actions - or perhaps even his acting? Aqua too is stuck in a repetitive cycle triggered from his past life's supressed trauma. We will in this essay explore the depths of it like never done before. Eventually we gain a completely different understanding of revenge that actually haunts him more than it does Kamiki.
You kow, the other day I read an essay where the OP would refuse to call Aqua Aqua anymore and instead refers to him now as "Aquamarine" because he/she is apparently mad at his current behaviour. This to me is kinda funny but also instructive because it goes to show a fundamental misunderstanding of his character, which I believe is shared by many people. Be mad at Gorou Amamiya - if you dare - because this would actually be engaging.
However, we will see that he is like Ruby stuck in another repetitive cycle of trauma and the purpose of this essay is to raise awareness while not to excuse him blatantly but to point to the tragic and dramatic nature of his mind and soul. Because at this point it's safe to say that what we currently see is literally what we get. Aqua will not become visibly handsome any time soon. Better aknowledge and comprehend his actions now and save yourself later from phony bitterness, anger and other unreflected undermining reactions. Instead that be bitter and angry with compassion. Because if you don't appreciate his struggle you won't fully grasp the Cathasis that follows, which - under the impression that Aka is cooking some really good stuff - would be a shame. Finally I'm strongly hoping that this essay might enhance some people's future chapter reading experience.
Without further edo lets dive into it.
Gorou Amamiya
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp on and that's mainly because his cope is vague while his upfront personality apppears mature and he as an individual is also highly functional, both as Gorou and Aqua. He appears to us as a well adjusted middle aged man: He went to the Medical University in Tokyo, dated women sucessfully and eventually became a Doctor and kinda just knows how to handle stuff. He is also a walking encyclopaedia, so feel free to ask him anything!
On the contrary site: Gorou seems to be a loner, an Otaku in denial who lives quite isolated in Japan's rural backwaters. After his study years in Tokyo he moved back to his hometown. We don't know the exact reason why he voluntarily choose this kind of isolation, probably to take care of his grandmother. When he came back to the hospitel as Aqua he referred to his coworkers as "colleagues I was close to" which implies a certain distance and a lack of other related people in the town like for instance actual friends that he would want to meet. After he learned that nobody of his past colleugues work there anymore the "social question" of his past life fizzled out.
The rural working place granted him a lot of free time at the hospital, So he met his emotionally undemanding social life with escapism into Idol-Culture respectively Ai Hoshino. And surely this "quirk" is the first indication that this man doesn't just maintain an introverted but healthy Work-Life-Balance as a doctor but actually tries to cure away some void: A normal man just doesn't scream joyful in a patient's room like a fanatic over an Idol show. This beginning scene doesn't just serves as a quirky comic relief but sets a fundamental tone to his character. A little later the coworking woman in EP 1 wouldn't quite believe his copium about a shared memory with Sarina as the reason for his idolization of Ai. And since he didn't gave her a clear answer if he would or wouldn't date Ai he at the same time disclosed a personal obsession as to be part of his allegedly idealistic and pure motives. We will get back to their conversation later, as we will find out that Gorou was actually honest and righteouss about his claims.
I know, I know. Still haven't mentioned the elephant in the room:
His dead mother.
What is Guilt?
When for Ruby the reoccuring event of her traumatic cycle is parental abandonment then for Gorou it is the feeling of guilt "for being born at the expense of his mother" (C75). In other words to feel responsible for her death.
Gorou lost his mother during his birth but he eventually got adopted by his Grandmother who took the role as his mother figure. The fact that he was actually raised by family laid the foundation for a some what functional personality. In fact he for his personal development received maternal love from his grandmother, thus the trauma which he recycled over Ai's death is fundamentally different from Ruby's.
But at the same time... it isn't different at all. Here is the why:
What is Love?
We found out in the essay about Gorou as Ruby's father-figure that she'd eventually develope a romantic love interest for her father-figure due to the stagnation of her psychological development as part of her inherited "curse" through reincarnation with her trauma. While Ruby's body would mature and develope, likewise Ichigo as a father-surrogat is not present in her life, Sarina's soul would still be bounded to a confused relationship she development during her hospitalization. Sarina's love for Gorou was a childish inmature expression in a phase where the father is the only male person of interest in a young girl's life. But the anxiety to lose a dear father like figure again after she was abandoned by her biological father would also urge her to express a childish romantic interest for her Doctor. If he marries her he can never leave her again. A differentiation and overcoming of this developmental phase didn't happen for Ruby because the memory of Gorou would force herself in a obsessive spiral until she confused herself to desire actual romantic love from him, her father-figure. The playful jokes about marriage when Sarina becomes 16 have turned to a personal life goal of Ruby. When she found out about his death it triggered the trauma of parental abondenment and unleashed all her self-destructive feelings. A death wish that already was present during her life as Sarina and after Ai's death but had been intercepted by Miyako as a new mother and also through the hope and longing for Gorou's acceptance of her - both as Sarina and Ruby, but moreso in Ruby because this confused desire found a fleshed out embodiment in a sexually developed girl's body.
Well and Gorous obsession over the Idol Ai isn't that far off from this. Because what Gorou actually seeks from Ai is unconditional love. The kind of love that isn't just receivable by a surrogate mother but the very personal love that only a biological mother can give to her child in the very early infant stage. In Ai's eyes he would feel a kind of dangerous tease of this deeply hidden desire and while he never actually understood the reason of this longing or even that it's related to a surpressed trauma over his dead mother, he do felt mystically pulled into Ai's realm and felt a glimpse of hope for unconditional "Ai" (Ai when written in Kanji means Love) through her idolization.
But keep in mind that he is a full grown man. He already experienced a mostly sufficient mother figure in his life - the Grandmother. Of course he would never realize what the cause for his troublesome obsession over this teenage girl Ai Hoshino really is about. He eventually developes just as Ruby for Gorou a confusing sexual interest for the "unconditionally loving mother" that he projects onto Ai. Likewise Ruby developed a sexual interest for her idolized father figure Gorou.
Interestlingly enough the chat with his coworker on the roof about Ai fully displayed his confusion. In this scene she was a bit like a therapist, while he would reveal his trauma to her. The irony of course is that neither he nor her realize it: On the one hand he indeed seeks pure and idealistic form of "Ai", unconditional love of a mother for her childt. At the same time it's distorted by his sexual maturity which would try to find fullfillment through romantic and sexual "ressources".
The romantic fantasy is an impuls of the conflicted adult body that carries an infant's hidden wish. An unfulfilled infant lives deep inside of Gorous heart as a surpressed trauma over his mother's death who couldn't give him the most exclusive form of maternal love.
*
The Selfish Love
We found the inverted similarity between Ruby's attachment to Gorou and Aqua's attachment to Ai. But it's worth to point out that in relation to Ai - and what I mean by that the quality of the relation Aqua -> Ai vs. Ruby -> Ai - there is a crucial difference in the form of love they want from her and it is mainly rooted in the different developmental phases they both are "stuck" in terms of the form of desired maternity.
Ruby's longing for a mother is transferable. Since she probably received the kind of unconditional love of an infant herself but was only abandoned at a later age when she became sick, Sarina could compensate it with Ai's love and even Miyako's after Ai's death. Ruby was kinda temporarly stabilized since she believed in meeting her idolized father again. It's not like Ai's death hasn't affected her but she is in her longing for maternal love actually more mature than Gorou. I will explain later how. Ai is for Ruby from this point of view "interchangable" just like Marina. But it is a yet to observe in the coming chapters how and when Sarina will "release herself and her mother from the expectation that a mother should love her child" (C119) but to me it seems like Sarina has a solid foundation to overcome this issue through her movie role of Ai.
But what about the kind of love Gorou craves for? Well for once we know that he doesn't seek something transferable because in fact a transfer that could cover the kind of maternal Love Ruby seeks he already received from his Grandmother. He wants the pure, innocent and idealistic love of a mother for his infant, for him it can only be re-created and satisfied in the impossible yet odd realm of supernaturality, A reincarnation as an actual infant with intact memories of his past life in the hands of an actual loving mother. This is the only but also the absolute solution to meet the innocent and pure minded wish of the traumatized infant crying in Gorous heart.
"When I woke up, I was in heaven [....] for now, I just want to live this baby life to it's fullest"(Chapter 1)
A normal well adjusted adult would perceive this situation as a nightmare. Being a baby stands in the heaviest contrast to the inherited soul of an adult. "I am a f'cking grown man, goddamit. Why am I a baby? I'm right now the most vulnerable, dependend and defenseless being, this situation absolutely opposes my proven and experienced self identity as a grown up" This is what a normal adult would think and he would hate this unintelligible situation he found himself randomly in. It's basically a curse. Also he would want to go back to his family, friends etc. Gorou on the other hand is a loner and suffers a tragic supressed trauma. So now we beginn to see how all the hings come together. Such a joyful and innocent scene as presented in the Manga has a dark meaning behind it.
To embrace the role of a cute liltte baby with the same joy and happiness it implies an actual desire to do so. To assert that this is yet another casual comic relief scene just to start his interesting journey as a MC misses the point. The plot started when he fanatically cheered up his Idol over the TV of a patients room.
Likewise here and there his personal desire in Ai and "Ai" would blend out the surounding world. Aqua ignores the premise of his reincarnation that he was murdered by Ai's stalker, because he wants to stimulate his deeply supressed desire. Gorou ignores the patient's needed rest when Ai is on TV, because he wants to stimulate the same desire. In relation to Ai Gorou is selfish right from the start. It's a very inmature selfish love towards her as an Idol and a mother, in fact this form of love is the most inmature and selfish love imaginable because it's born from the tragically denied desire of the most vulnerable and inmature human form: The Infant. In fact, that he as a doctor couldn't supresse his selfish will to disturb a resting patient was a pivotal moment to prelude the great lengths this desire would go to experience stimulation. His behaviour as Ai's baby is a derivation and the purest and most innocent enbodiment. Because this time it's materialized in the body of an actual infant. Gorou has become the human flesh of the traumatically supressed infant's desire living in his heart.
Gorou at this point is absolutely unwilling to give up the situation he found himself in. The infant has completely taken over the adult's mind. At one point he would even thank the culprit and ompletely misjudge the actual situation they are in. This - for such a reasonable and smart but apparently selfless man like Gorou - is astonishing to say the least. In relation of it's meaning in terms of trauma and hidden desire it's comprehensible.
The infant's longing is the most fragile form of love imaginable. If it misses it's chance it's all over again. It only came into life through an absolutely impossible miracle. This selfish little desire, for a long time well hidden as a surpressed trauma, feed by escapism in Idol-Culture, will do anything to blockade interferring reason. The reasonable adult Gorou is completely cut off.
The adult Gorou who's identity as an dedicated professional who is willing to go to great lengths to support his patients while rolling back his personal gain. The adult Gorou that for once let his selfish wish take advantage. This adult Gorou will end with the corpse of his mother in his hands.
The Reenactment of a Tragedy
"Unconditional love" - it should be pure and innocent yet it becomes the very reason for his self-destroying malicous decades long torture and agony.
With the death of Ai Aqua for the first time conscioussly witnesses what until then was just a deeply hidden ugly non-verbalized traumatic experience. Before Ai's death Gorou never realized the existence of it, let alone the depths of it nor how it affects his personality structure.
But now while he is the accomplice witness of an unfolding nightmare - with the heart of an infant and the brain of an adult - the surpressed trauma actually has a real reenactment...
"I could never forget... The rusted metal-like smell of her blood penetrating my nostrils. Nor could I forget how the warmth slowly left her hand" (C51)https://preview.redd.it/3hv2m50vxr2b1.jpg?width=1481&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7842bc1ac0945aab5149c505fd719c6139ca4370
This is probably the most impactful moment of self-realization in the Manga in terms of Gorou's psyche. Yes, Gorou's. These words reflect the core traumatic experience of Gorou's birth that was reenacted by Ai's death. This is not about Aqua and his roleplay as the Son of Ai Hoshino and it's certainly not the trauma of a fan who lost his favorite Idol.
These are the words of a newborn that could never forget the rusted metal-like smell of his mother's blood penetrating his nostrils. Nor could he forget how the warmth slowly left her hand. Can you imagine what he's actually describing her? How his mother was slowly bleeding out and dies while she was holding her newborn in her arms?
Postpartum bleeding or postpartum hemorrhage is often defined as the loss of more than 500 ml or 1,000 ml of blood following childbirth.
They were alone, Gorou was exposed to his dying mother until her last gasp. This shocking tragic accident describes the first moments of his early life as a horrifying Dispair.
And we can immediately see, that Ai's death scene was personally ment for Gorou. It's not a coincidence that Ruby would by shielded behind the milky glassed door while Aqua would be exposed to the fullest with all his senses. It's because the repetitive cycle of his personal trauma was ment to unfold exclusively to him. In the closed door that shields Ruby also symbolizes the earlier expressed maturity of Ruby's seek for maternal love. This little physical gap and the muffled visual and audible senses are a quintessential symbolization of the difference in the form of love Ruby and Aqua seek and quintessential to the importance of the circumstances of her death to each of them.
Likewise Ruby's discovery of Gorou's corpse as a triggering event of her personal trauma through the guidance of the crow was exclusively ment for her to experience. Aqua was "excluded" in the sense that he wouldn't recognize how important that corpse is to Ruby because then it would be immanent that they know each other, which at that point is not in the god's interest.
*
Now you might ask yourself: Okay, but why wasn't his desire fullfilled after some time, for example after he passed by the biological infant state? Why would he crave for this kind of love for years until her death? After some time he should have come to his senses and tell her about the danger, right? And why would he still follow her idol performances as a dedicated fan when we established that the idolization was only a surrogat expression of Gorou Amamiyas surpressed desire?
The Reenactment of True Love
Gorou and Ai share a common goal. Ai wants to unconditionally love somebody and Gorou wants unconditionally to be loved. The reincarnation of Gorou as Ai's son sets the framework for a realization of both wishes.
The unconditonality of Ai's devotion that Gorou seeks from her as a mother isn't fullfilled. He early on realized through the performances he would witness as Aqua on TV that she looks at the camera and her fans with the same eyes and smile as she does at her kids. The purely physical devotion of a mother that takes care of her children like bathing them appears to him as an mechanized act, her mere obligation as a legal guardian. it's like "shaking hands" with a Fan after the idol concert. "Lies are an exceptional form of Love" she said to Gorou on the roof top (btw why is everyone opening up on that roof top, is it really like a therapist session whenever somebody enters it :)) thus he suspect she's acting towards her children the same way like towards her fans. Sure, a normal child wouldn't be that suspicious but Aqua is still a grown man and fully grasps the artificiality of his role as particular Ai's son. Eventually after all those years Aqua would still crave for an actual true expression of unconditional love that is exclusive to him. And Ai still was trying to love somebody but was yet too scared to express it to her children.
Now we can see why he would persist on his role as her son and supersede the danger of the culprit who killed him. For years he would ignore it because for years he was still crave for his desired love.
Just the fact of being supernaturally pushed to be her son wasn't fullfilling the desire of the infant at all, since deception and a lie is the core of this relationship. He would naturally jump back to old habits and absorb more love from the Idol Ai Hoshino over TV. But when Miyako took the twins to her concert and their cute dance triggered Ai's most sincere maternal smile it was actually a great moment of hope for Aqua.
This whole thing with the smile was pretty instructive. Because as you recall Ai was during ego-surfing reading the opinion of a fan who said her smile and expression wouldn't be convincing at all. Well I can't prove that this anonymous poster was Aqua himself but for the point I want to make lets just assume that it exactly articulates the impression Aqua shares with the poster. They both think that she lacks convincing emotionality "on stage" - a mysterious expression because for Aqua who is roleplaying this mother-son-relation it's also as observing her "on stage" at home. And his expectation as a child towards a mother is as obsessive as the expectation of a fan towards his favorite idol.
Unfortunately he gets "betrayed" (or maybe not, I will elabore later) because a little after Ai found this new and wonderful smile she would mechanize the same expression on stage for her fans, thus it lost the unconditional intimate character which should be exclusive between a mother and her child. Ai is the best and most ruthless liar of all time.
At the same time - lets entertain that he in fact was the anonymous poster - Aqua still has a lot of selflessness at his core personality, especially as he grows up, more of the upfront "Gorou" comes out again. It's not odd to assume that he really wanted to help Ai in her development as an famous Idol. I actually like this idea a lot and it's coherent with the type of Guy Gorou/Aqua outside of his very personal desire is: A carrying fine guy who genuinely wants the best for the people he feels close to.
Chronologically it also makes sense. She was holding Aqua on her lap and was complaining about the little money she makes. She was frustated and felt stuck. She said she wants to provide for her family. Then she went to her dance lessons and there she would sit down with her phone and read that message about her smile. Aqua could have predicted that she would ego-surf and therefore posted that tweet. Later on the concert Aqua and Ruby would reveal the "star power" that can influence others. A mirroring "star power" influence Aqua would perform on Kana's first idol concert when she exactly like Ai had trouble to express the sincere smile and joy.
On top of that the apparent "push" of Aqua has a certain providing husband-like character to it. Ai says she wants to provide for the family. In the end it's Aqua's interferrence that supported her wish. In this moment he acted the identity of Gorou the doctor when he was looking out for her best interests as a pregnant woman, a bit like a loving and carrying husband.
In a a future contrasting juxtaposition fine moments like this will help Aqua to realize that the amount of guilt he feels for her death is exaggerated and unfair since he genuinly was also looking after her even as her child. And of course we all remember his influence on Gotanda after she was cut out of his movie.
*
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp and that's because it's coded as emotional raw data into his subconsciousness. There is another very important trauma at the core which prevents him from realizing the importance of that love that was finally granted to him in Ai's last moments. He didn't realize that this was an sincere reenactment of true love his dying mother gave him after his birth. This frame in the anime gives it basically away: Her hair like the hair after an extremely painful deadly birth. She is all sweaty, exhausted and anemic but also the truely happiest woman she ever was. It's like saying: There is no point of feeling guilty, I'm so glad I gave birth to you, my son. I love you...
https://preview.redd.it/6veu0yctbs2b1.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0883f041277110fc0fadca5c8290e63c2ea72e4f
And is there even any base for guilt at all? The chapter "What is Guilt" in this essay turned out to be the shortest one. It's maybe also the grand tragicirony of Aka's story. "Guilt" and revenge for it's sake occupy Aqua's entire purpose in life, yet it has the most fragile irrational foundation, born from trauma and self-misunderstanding. One final thought: It's also not forgiveness. The kind of love that Gorous mother expressed for him after her birth wasn't forgiveness as it implies guilt. No, she is simply happy and unconditonally loved her son. He is not guilty.
* * * *
The next chapter in PART II will be called "The Reeactment of Violence" and in this we will find hidden links between Gorou's trauma with a father-figures in his life, the missing father who impregnated his mother but wouldn't provide for him, how this is reflected on Kamiki but also expressed in Aqua's husband-like behaviour towards Ai, but also his poisoned relationship to his Grandfather and how all of this comes together on the scenery of Ai's murder. And much more....
2023.05.29 17:15 PurpleSolitudes Best Microphone For Streaming in USA Available On Amazon
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2023.05.29 17:09 Imaginary-Zebra-3589 Complete English translation of the Aniara sequel book by Harry Martinson called Doriderna
Hi everyone! This is a complete English translation of the Aniara sequel book by Harry Martinson called Doriderna that was put together after the author died. This translation was put together using various translation programs that can be found online, so I can't guarantee that it is a perfect translation, but it's better than nothing. I will also post the original in Swedish so you can improve the translation or look up words etc. if you want. Hope you enjoy!
I would also like to let everyone know that I am also working on my own Aniara fan fiction short story that I call "The Lost Voices of Aniara". This story tells about the events aboard the Aniara from the view point of another passenger and attempts to add more details to the story. It should be ready in the next week or two.
HARRY MARTINSON
The Dorides (Doriderna)
Remaining poems and prose pieces in selection and with preface by Tord Hall Albert Bonniers Förlag
PREFACE
For reasons I will not go into here, Harry Martinson did not publish any new work in the last years of his life. There is therefore a very large literary legacy, the publication of which began in the fall of 1978 with "Längs ekots stigar" (Along the paths of the echo), published by Georg Svensson. This collection contains only a few purely scientific poems - the emphasis is on nature poetry. The selection was made from unpublished material - which had nevertheless reached the proof stage - in three previous collections.
It remains to address other lines of thought in Harry Martinson's work: the ideas in Aniara, which in various forms occupied his imagination until the end. To follow the continuation of this great theme - at least in part - is what I am trying to do in this second selection from the surviving archive.
The 103 songs in Aniara were part of a larger set of poems, and the author then worked for several years on a sequel, to be called 'The Dorids', the people of the tribe of Doris. Around 1959 there were about 80 songs - most of them in more or less completed drafts. The dominant figure in the Dorids would not be Isagel or the Mimarobe, but Nobia, the Samaritan from the tundra planet and deportation site of Mars. Nobia would be a norna (fate goddess), though not a cruel goddess of fate, but a norna who weaves goodness into the fabric of the world.
But the whole project remained a large-scale endeavor. The reasons were many: illness, world events, which seemed to be moving towards a fulfillment of the prophecies in Aniara, and which gave him an increasingly dark view of life: he told me that "Aniara has become a neurosis" ... I feel like Mima being blown apart'. But the decisive reason was surely his demand for absolute freedom in his creativity. He did not want to be confined, and the result was, as he himself said, 'I have stepped out of Aniara'.
The fact that Harry Martinson stepped out of Aniara, and thus also out of the Dorides, does not at all mean that he left the motifs or ideas found there, which cover the scientific field from atoms to stars. Rather, it means that he was able to write without direct connection to the characters of Aniara and the Dorides in particular.
I have therefore considered it justified to call this entire collection the Dorides, even though the prose pieces and several poems do not have a clearly visible connection with such a title.
In order to comment briefly on the selection, I would like to say a few words about Harry Martinson's attitude towards modern science (it is my intention to return to this subject in more detail).
There are two main lines. One is deterministic, and has its roots in classical physics, founded by Newton, which dominated until the end of the 19th century. It has a philosophical form in the law of causation, which means that if you know enough facts about a certain course of events in the present and in the past, you can precisely specify the course of events in the future. Examples of such events in the 'big world' - the macrocosm - are solar and lunar eclipses.
But in the world of atoms - the microcosm - this determinism does not apply. Heisenberg demonstrated this through his uncertainty relation, also known as the indeterminacy principle. In the atoms, individual events are indeterminate, we cannot discern any causality - there is randomness. But chance can be mastered by the methods of statistics, and we must content ourselves with a "statistical causality", which describes the course of events in the atom with the highest possible degree of probability.
It is this second, indeterministic line that has long been followed by most physicists. But there is one major exception, and that is Einstein. At the 1927 meeting of physicists in Brussels, for example, he asked Bohr, Heisenberg and others with mild irony whether they really believed that God plays dice - "ob der liebe Gott würfelt". Einstein was convinced that the universe follows an ordering principle, a geometric structure, which can be called a world soul. This is a pantheistic view that is reminiscent of Spinoza.
Similar ideas are already present in Aniara, but in this selection the picture has become more sharply defined. Harry Martinson does not believe that chance plays a decisive role in the course of the world, as is clear from several poems and prose pieces. He believes more in Einstein than in dozens of other Nobel Prize winners. Apart from these authorities, he follows his intuition.
His approach to religion has often been quoted: he chooses the Riddler over the God. This belief is reflected in 'The Riddle'. In 'Poems on Light and Darkness', published in 1971, Harry Martinson, with 'The Inner Light' and 'The Bird in the Phoenix Bell', presents the events inside the atom itself. These poems show that - although 'Aniara' and 'The Dorides' are more about stars than atoms - he never lost his interest in the microcosm. In this selection, it is the atoms that are more interesting than the stars.
The bard enters the atom. He describes the course of events in a world which is completely beyond our senses and which, despite the enormous aids of science, we will probably never be able to understand exactly. The story itself probably comes from Gamow's book "Mr. Tompkins Explores the Atom". Published in Swedish translation in 1946, it is, along with "Mr. Tompkins in Wonderland" (also 1946), the versatile Gamow's best popular science books. Harry Martinson rated them highly.
The two poems 'Submerged as in a dream but still awake' and 'Actually, the comprehensibility was slight' depict a journey of thought into the atom, and the same motif recurs in several other places.
The poem "A Cosmic Thickness Lying Boundlessly Spread" poetically depicts a world development related to the hypothesis of the "stationary universe" put forward by Hoyle and others, and to Klein-Alfvén's "symmetrical cosmology". For several reasons - mainly aesthetic - Harry Martinson did not like the theory of 'the big bang', which was celebrated by most scientists. His poem should have been written quite a long time ago, and perhaps he would have changed his mind if he had been given the opportunity to understand what the "cosmic background radiation" - with a temperature of about 3 degrees above absolute zero - means for the credibility of "The big bang". It took natural scientists some time to become convinced that this radiation can best be interpreted as a fading glow after an unimaginable cosmic explosion some 18 billion years ago.
This selection also contains several pieces of prose, which in general do not need any comment. But I would like to mention a few. For "The Figuration Patterns of the Goddancer's Juggling Program", in three sections, there is a drawing by Harry Martinson, reproduced on the cover of this collection. The spread comes from Hindu philosophy: we see 'Siwa's juggling dance before Brama'. The dominant curves are so-called lemniscates, which were already known to the ancient Greeks. The lemniscate looks like an eight and is the mathematical symbol for infinity. It is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the product of its distances to two given points is constant. In the center of the drawing there are several small curves. They are ellipses, and an ellipse - also first studied by the Greeks - is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the sum of its distances to two given points is constant. The result is a geometric pattern, similar to a flower, which at the same time provides a poetic image of the complex interplay of forces in the atom with outward and inward energy impulses The juggler finds it increasingly difficult to work with his ball-particles as he progresses through the periodic table of the elements. In the end, he "dances the spectral theme in the dance of the Phoenix" - a symbol of the indestructibility of both energy and poetry, and a recurring motif in Martinson's poetry.
"Delsaga om tidens ariadnetråd" (Part of the saga of the Ariadne thread of time) is almost a fantasy about four-dimensional space, where you have to be careful not to get on the wrong track. The selection of prose pieces ends with "Some fairies dancing in the summer night near a quiet lake". It is a cheerful tale where the author combines a love of the Swedish summer with a love of light.
I made this selection at the direct request of Harry. He even said several times that I should have all his scientific poems and prose pieces. But I think I judged this offer correctly when I saw it as an expression of his great generosity towards his friends. I always replied that he himself should complete and select what was to be published. But in his last years he did not want to publish anything. I therefore promised to make a selection if he did not change his mind.
He did not, and this collection is the result.
Finally, I would like to thank Ingrid Martinson and Georg Svensson for the understanding and assistance they have given me in bringing this selection to fruition.
Tord Hall
The Dorides (Doriderna)
The book you hold was written in Mima's hall.
Now, on a secret wavelength, it is sent home to you, my friend, who for some years inhabits a spherical beach called the Valley of Doris.
In other words, it was written so close to your own being that nothing could be closer to you than those described here. You are one of them.
Over the graves, the indifferent wind spreads
the whisper of the immortal gods
that no loss is foreseen in the grand scheme of things.
But what do the gods - those wasteful billionaires of the heavens - know about the beautiful and wonderful Doris?
how she was worth saving forever
and that whoever loved her
can never be comforted by the gods' continued waste.
About her a bird sings now alone in the tree of the grave. Of her as she was, the glorious one, if no other, the Dorides' thrush sings.
The window was full of stars,
The Leonids' swarm of stars came, then you know the time.
Autumn was gone, its yellowing burnt.
The lookout tower, closed on the wooded mountains.
I stood as a child of a time that saw the stars detach from the roofs towards a room where novas frightened a more distant valley, I found other myths than those I was used to picking hurled at me from the space of the Leonids.
I stood in the cathedral of fear of dreams.
The great copper woman who lay there with her back soldered to the lid of the sarcophagus drove horror into me, cast my foot with lead.
That the copper woman knew who I was, I immediately sensed as a deadly weight, and that I had been summoned here by herself, by the queen of copper, of that I was certain.
In empty benches sat forgotten years, from the emptiness of the auditorium the organ pipes shone like stalactites in the vault of a cave and there was nothing, no light, no hint that gathered my crumbling courage.
For everything was fulfilled as it was written in stone once when the water abandoned the green and it was said that man will go away and become the dead slave of the dead dust.
And as I stood there gripped, filled with horror
for this judgment and epitaph
which was predetermined and rehearsed
in the mute trumpet of the seraphim of the stones,
bells fell suddenly from the towers to the earth that rocked with an ore-broken thunder, and the copper woman rose, a scream of remembrance drawn from afar to her lips as she drew me in close to her copper body in terrified death.
He woke up. There was light. It was day.
And the Samaritan Nobia sat silent, but still heard the echo of the screams his dreams had squeezed out of his fear.
She searched for words simple enough for a stranger to grasp, but not so simple as to drive away his trust, hardly won yet.
In simple action she finally found them.
And she stood up and smiled with milk
From the moors of Gondrin to the mouth of this fugitive.
It is no exaggeration to say that space gave us long winter evenings rolled into one - the one that lasts. Our leisure time finally became a grim question with ice in our eyes and a frozen flame.
It became necessary to tell stories from reality - as it can be taken. I chose to tell about King Basii, who, supported by Chefone, forcibly turned himself into a god and magician in a celestial drama.
The Goldonder King felt like God and determined to live up to the gods he built himself a city in the sky.
It was a global world city of goldonders assembled into a kind of hive heaven.
But Basil's space-city, though it contained twelve million men in his service, was not enough for him; he had another built, and the greatest city in the world was soon in space. That city was a marvel to behold: a mighty golden dome, surrounded by three bionomically serving drabants, one of which was called the Vegetable City, one the Fish Drabant, and the third the Sting.
The names reveal their role and purpose.
So Basii sits in his heavenly land. The aquarium dragon orbits faithfully and Stings follows it with fattened animals and the vegetable moon amounts to the redwood.
The golden dome was the city of retreat for all climbers and celestial rebels, for gamma was a poison to all alike and all poor and rich alike had to choose between death and escape.
So many preferred the city of Basil.
But although he rules over twelve million
inhabitants of the great city of space, he is still very rarely happy.
And although the dragons in a faithful circle
raise animals and grow fish and wheat
Basil's only pleasure is when he gets
with Vulvis, the royal slave, to bathe in Lethe.
But all the deliciously good virginity
that can be enjoyed in Basil's harem
is in its nakedness a skin of fear.
of frightened dissimulation. And his love story
...is but a tale to be seen from the outside..,
and all his lust a forced voluptuousness.
Thus in The Night of Aniara I draw a little picture that everyone can understand from the rich treasure of reality.
And every time I make an arabesque in the hall of Mima about this space grotesque that Basil's space city can probably be said to be, I can for an hour or so make people sigh: the best is here anyway.
From Basil's false heaven we preserve. No, I'd rather travel with Aniara.
But soon the alarm goes off. The bells proclaim that the images of the fairy tale are overtaken by visions here that distress ignites.
And quickly to the halls I return.
The Goldonder's garden bubbled with glamour. A party was being held there and Chefone was there. He showed us a picture of the smith of happiness: the goldonder king Basii, a portrait jubilantly taken on the day the fifteen thousandth goldonder lay in the field ready for the wave of endlessness.
Then we were each seized by thoughtfulness and went to our own in solitude.
For in every ship of this number there was a Mima locked up in its cage.
The Rapid criminal was much loved and could operate as he pleased under the protection of the admiration he aroused. He always appeared at great speeds and abducted women whom he brought to Chefone in light blue rapid rockets.
Of course it was criminal, the people of the valley thought, but the charm was so close to the deed that the rampart was breached by sheer admiration and open worship soon followed the advice of restraint at the murder pedal.
Tucked away in a corner of our gondola, I pretend to smile at some rough fellows who spend their evenings with mockery and violence, with a devilish flutter as their sole aim.
They look at me and find me mortified,
- The clear approval is what they expect...
and I'm close to being squeezed badly
every time they jokingly glance at my grave door.
The brute is approaching, his dull face with many a foolish whim weighing on his mind.
And many a scowl missed by pigs from the worst corners of the soul he throws at me.
And when, full of fear, I strike with depleted strength in the dull face, the troll is only amused by my blow and raises his eyebrow with interest.
Then I flee between the troll's legs and out the other side of the danger of death.
How this happened can only be fully explained by the light of the gopher and the fourth tensor theory.
Here came the sober, composed and sober man who always kept his soul in trim and stuck to the dry, honest maxims of life.
Now he went into the fire with his imagination.
His cool reason was completely burned His sober composure was fried in seconds when the photo turbo in Xinombra exaggerated the cold matter.
And yet I can't help but admire the man as he made his way to the office where he had been employed for many years
and where, despite offers to flee to the tundra, he provided punch cards for thousands who broke up every day.
There died a man who never raised his voice, who always remained true to his calm tone, the martyr of calm composure who was burned when the cruel fires of excess were lit.
One is often chilled to the rock crystal by everything one hears before the ear falls like gray-white ash into the cremation hall.
And the girl from Rind who sees nothing is often heard to ask beyond the eye: how is the world of such torment visible? What is to be seen in this madness, where eeriness against eeriness is heard to answer?
Cultivating insight seemed futile
and many fell away from the faithful crowd.
and its program which was to see through
so that with the transparency of evil
as lens and instrument
try to find new signs
and new ways for the land of Gond.
Most people grew tired and withdrew from the room of the Truth Service, and Nobia sat for long periods almost alone, trying to hold on to her looms, always tormented
by the blood moisture of evil memories, the echoes of horror
surrounded her days
and made the Mara a bedfellow
who tore the fabric of the noman
and raped Nobia's dream
and the mood of life over the moors of Gondria.
It is as important to us to have friends
in the houses of distant worlds as at home by
the familiar road of the green earth.
You are reflected in endless eyes, watched by immense spectators.
They never interfere, but they watch the sewing and the mining,
the nurse and doctor on the rounds and the weapons in the shamelessly cruel wars.
Your own position under their eyes may be likened to the position you take with one whom you do not wish to grieve, but to share joy and to please.
So spoke the old astronomer, and then laid his head down to rest.
And he went smiling to the eternity that had been waiting by his side all his life.
His forehead shone with its ideas, even in the dead of death in the years of space.
He was among those who know the fairies of everything, those who get to comb Berenice's hair.
But for the longest time I still want to believe that this is the torment of an evil dream and the ship Aniara a phantom from which I will wake up in the Valley of Doris.
Perhaps everything is a nightmare and I want to wait with poison and a knife. They say there are dreams of a kind that seem as long as a man's life.
Out of the dust you were born, from its gifts you were supported.
You did not manage the gift, many a meadow you made desolate.
What is beyond this sea is called Going down deep among riddles too great to be found in a grave.
Faith can never cover more than what you see in spirit.
All the other things are too much to bear.
Do you hear the sound of the rescue team calling from an emergency station that is one of a thousand others, regardless of faith?
Now guess where the road leads and what Paradise is.
One of a thousand rescue stations scattered along the coast here.
Now I want to sing to my ear and ask it to listen to a voice that descends not to destroy the language I have collected for comfort. For the comfort of life and death, I whisper the price of sensitivity every time the sinful flow of language storms the breeze of the spirit.
One night Heba lay awake in the city of Aniara and heard the painter's joyful painting.
The skilled varnisher was varnishing the years that would one day end on a stainless steel stretcher.
And suddenly from Heba there was a shout against the smooth roof.
The skilled varnishers know their business well.
Too hard to become joy, too happy to become sorrow. The painters paint everything in Aniara's castle.
We know that we have been left out of the higher insight of the ocean of mystery and that we lack the tools to reach the depths of clarity that Mima once gave. But since Mima's death, the average of what we achieve of truth is not very high average is what is required if the choice of new paths is to be avoided.
A small number reach the values that should be the average to reach.
The others are satisfied with the flow of thought,
the rattle with which time is made to pass.
A daughter of my mother, called Tovi, was born in the night of space. Alas, dear ones, where can the crowd's demand for sensation and wonder lead us?
First came, as it should be, the blissfully sweet and indescribably pure birth, when the mimicry lay naked, uncovered and panting in the golden bed of the formula.
To her camp now came the mimicry and winged it
the naked one, as when the butterfly flies the honey chalice of its flower, in Dori's meadows. The description is not given (much to my regret) because there is always the possibility of a wave of miracles taking place in secret, to the great disappointment of many who wish to see how the mimagyne makes love, and from what angle the picture of the goddess's love life should be taken in order to really reach the audience.
Can it not be enough that Tovi gave birth to an allegorical child whom Isagel happily suckled at her breast and practiced miracles and consolation You may think so yourself, but others think otherwise.
For not even a mimagyn can defend the fruit of her womb against the human hyena who demands a clear answer on every point of what precedes it all: the prelude to sowing,
with the insides of the thighs well described in a clear image that gives the "public" a feeling that it was in the bed.
Yes, it has happened that I have sometimes asked myself (in private silence, of course) whether the smooth ice of superficiality does not have enough joy, and that the great swallows in these spaces are only terrible wakes which, compared to the agile princess and heartlessly threatening with superior power, will in the end become the cold room of beauty.
So small a strip bears, the other breaks, and all the incomparably large gapes with the same dark death which, unchanging with cold upon cold, only imitates itself.
To raise one's hand then with a light-year pound and demonstrate the fugue of eternity on terrible organs, while the girl in the icy distance dances, hardly greater to see than a fly flown away towards the light, it is to chill with the great weapon as when the superpower with the powers the element hides coldly makes its rows in the land of Gond against unsuspecting cities and, although itself dismissing all talk of sin punishment and trial, nevertheless treats the human with such terrible flame that this terrible torrent of loose gamma released by those who do not mean sin punishment nevertheless cruelly destroys both Yaal and Gena and melts down to ashes the wonder Heba
With the same fire they turned on Chebeba.
Posterity does not understand you so easily.
It judges according to the image of posterity
and counts up the time you lived in
as rows of negligence, as offenses
against the spirit of foresight, the duties of thought.
To this it adds the work of suffering
and piles up, as blind as a judge
as you were blind as a criminal, case by case.
Can those who have killed the foundations of joy and destroyed the great city of joy have the right to the joys of life?
Does Cain have the right to be happy?
Can those who strangled the joys of Xinombra and burned the valley of paradise have the right to heights of heaven other than Aniara's daily agony?
I ask but never get an answer. I have to arrange for pastimes
for the hordes of Aniara and manage its entertainment.
A wave of newly awakened hatred swept through the mountains where Nobia lived in deep mines and ghostly white lights illuminated every thread of life in the fabrics she wove.
She had sought and found the thread of life - a discovery of how healing rays are empowered by the inner council of things and fused with the heart of the atom.
And while hatred swelled around the mountains
and wounds screamed in the valley of time.
she wove day and night until the color of victory
and the skin of life rose in the hall of death.
Of her beauty little can be said. It was lost in a wave of radiation but the clear purity of the soul could be weighed; in healed wounds we saw her reflection.
Then I will throw you out of your chair. I will break your armchair view, because it is false and holds a convulsive security in a time that has slipped out of its rooms, but also the other way around: that it becomes a view without deep insight.
From this world, I shall send you happiness today to the kingdom of love, to the evil shore where the Samaritan Nobia and others spread works of love from country to country.
Figuring out the ways of evil and tracking down all the poison in the city of hate was futile, for hate stood there with heavy blocks united row by row.
Within its walls there was life and movement in the birthing centers and squares where human beings were conceived and human beings were born and human life in the human gap was destroyed. It was best to pretend that this city of self-righteous evil existed as nothing more than a devilish childhood that would mature, grow tired of itself.
We resolved to keep on sending saints there for the longest time.
from the saints' camps as long as the funds lasted
and as far as the need still aroused the heart.
This plan was tried for nine years, during which the Rind camp of saints bled to death: an act of self-sacrifice based on faith in the powers of good. But the heavy wall of hate stood just as hard, and the fatigue of leadership followed the act of hate; only too great was the throne of victory we had.
A single city consumed the power which we had thought sufficient for the transformation of the world.
On a rare occasion, the happiness of being free from desire also came.
Then the emptiness suddenly became populated by a kind of spiritualized mystery.
We walked the spirit's path of happiness along the beach, exchanging thoughts, making fortune cards.
It was evening and sunset in the sea.
Night fell, but the land of thought stood firm.
He woke up. She said: guess where.
I can't, he said. How did you get here? The same way you did: up the gravel path and then straight to the left among the cypresses. There was a dewy path the moonlight itself went there with light steps which I tried to imitate.
And when everything was past and the path was over
I managed to become a clear crystal and find you, my friend, on this path.
It is so transparently wonderful here.
We no longer exist. All that was is over.
Neither god nor devil here reaches us anymore and the end is the cruel parody of life.
Where is the plain text?
This is what I'm looking for.
The one that fits but still gives song.
After thanking God that he was a wasp and not something else, he continued between the leafy branches and stung the farmer.
Laid out by spiritual mobs, the truth becomes worse than the lie. When the mob washes the barley, it is never clean.
The rabble always wash in the dunghill from the Augean stables.
Matema's camel bells ring in the deserts of speech where the caravans of unfinished quarrels
never reach their oasis, only become more camels.
Immersed as in a dream but still awake, I found myself changed and so naked that no dream has words for what it was like when, transformed by the stone, I cut down towards the inner realms and while this was happening I became smaller, smaller and even more stripped of layers and layers of time and space as I sank further and further into the stone, deeper and deeper into things.
Who undressed me, wore me down so much that no conceivable smallness so small on this earth can be imagined unless one is long since beyond what every comprehensible thought wants to deny.
And yet I was being stripped and reduced still further in no direction.
So sunk, unceasingly sunk in
towards even more breathtaking reduction
I retained in my dream a way of seeing
and understand that I was traveling into
to the dimensions, the innermost
who with their interior work with their interior
and whose interiors compose the world.
They scare children with darkness, criminals with punishment and sinners with realms beyond death where the vengeful desire to torment has transported its arsenal of tormenting images.
But sorrow follows us every day, and joy follows us every day.
We ourselves are the sorrow, we are also the joy, everything human is rooted in humanity, and no human being can escape humanity, not her hatred and her self-degradation, nor the joy she spreads, nor the love she forms.
There is a third land that is not death and not life, but the reality that pervades all realities, and spins the very thread of the fabric from which dreams are woven. Yes, I had come to the rooms where these threads are spun. When I arrived, I stepped out and saw no longer surprised the smallest fairy, who herself was not at all surprised to welcome me to her inner land.
And although we were both unimaginably smaller than two grains of traveling dust on a suit on earth, we thought we were big here in this smallest room to which I have now come and which nevertheless encloses with its vault a separate world of realities formed.
On the contrary, I cannot describe what I saw of strange things, but that will follow when the habit of telling stories has been practiced for other habits than what life offers,
and other things than those called death.
For though beyond all I have known
this was not death
and though within all I have known
this was not life.
Actually, the comprehensibility was slight, as when multiples arranged in layers, and layered in the directions of space, make the fabric of the dream omnidirectional structural and become a fabric consisting of paths where the thread is only thought of as a path as a sign that here the shuttle has gone, but where is the thread? The thread is the path. I saw how the gnome was in a quandary as to which of two different possibilities to give clarity.
Then came formulas of such an elusive nature that the gnome was again gripped by the anxiety
which arises when the explanation is attempted but little response is felt by the pupil.
And with a look that shone as if with sorrow, he signaled a break in the dilemma. And with a formula more magical than comprehensible, we left the atom.
We expanded to other contexts and sat on a leaf next to a bee eagerly searching for honey in a meadow.
The Dance
Around the great star of the day we shall orbit the years we have been given to live, and our family for a few thousand centuries, perhaps more, perhaps less, no one knows.
But the time that we are orbiting is so small compared to that of the suns where they wander around in orbits in the galaxy our family named the Milky Way, luminous to behold.
What can our eyes see, our hearts cry out at the thought of atoms going around in the same way with waves and particles.
Some have called this the dance of the gods - it is always being danced by everything in the universe.
All indications are that among the arts of the muses
the art of dance is the first and the last,
and we are in it, dancing out
our role in the dance, it is already being danced
in other worlds separate from our time,
in other dance theaters,
yet one thing is clear
that we are dancing our turns.
Our role in it
is ours and no one else's.
Our own role in the dance art of all worlds.
Economic overview
Our earth wanders alive alone, around the sun our dear parent.
As far as the giant tubes reach no living neighbor to see.
Desolate and empty on the one who received the name of the god of war, burning hot and desolate on the one who received the name of the goddess of love.
Jupiter, planet of Zeus
ice-clad to two hundred times the height of the Himalayas.
The others are death's door.
Beyond that, light years to the next planetary village.
So each sun has only one living person, and that one is a leased farm, indefinitely and to an unreliable and dangerous race.
Here is a world of light distributed in the mystery of things.
Here is the salvaged light in the innumerable rooms of the stone.
Wands point with poles directed to their rooms inside mountains and stones, spinning mystery.
Deep in her fairy tale, she lives for the sake of the tale.
the norn who has learned to spin the yarn from the wool of the riddles.
The spirit of Ideema from space in endless lines gathered the seeds into the durable wood of the suns.
From far beyond time the hydrogen came in modest garb and built for its God the ingenious nests of the atoms.
Come, let us nurture the foundation of our life. The green sphere we have been given to live on in the universe's lottery system.
When the next lucky draw can get rid of the Milky Way's big tombola we do not know and can never reach.
But we do know one thing for sure: the next draw will not include us.
A stranger called chance shuffles the cards and deals them to the local players.
Every single poker face keeps a straight face.
There are plenty of goldfish in the tureen here.
According to the law, the silent coincidence itself is the last to raise its hand, with ice in its stomach.
Soon jaws of granite are chewing the cigar.
Where is the bundle of happiness among the starlings?
That question is answered when chance wins.
Then the shot goes off, chance's life disappears. His house of cards collapses, but soon everyone at the counter thinks it was a nice fish, that no one won, that chance herself was told by Smith and Wesson what chance was.
by Smith and Wesson what chance should do.
( translation to be continued )
submitted by Imaginary-Zebra-3589 to aniara [link] [comments]
Hi everyone! This is a complete English translation of the Aniara sequel book by Harry Martinson called Doriderna that was put together after the author died. This translation was put together using various translation programs that can be found online, so I can't guarantee that it is a perfect translation, but it's better than nothing. I will also post the original in Swedish so you can improve the translation or look up words etc. if you want. Hope you enjoy!
I would also like to let everyone know that I am also working on my own Aniara fan fiction short story that I call "The Lost Voices of Aniara". This story tells about the events aboard the Aniara from the view point of another passenger and attempts to add more details to the story. It should be ready in the next week or two.
HARRY MARTINSON
The Dorides (Doriderna)
Remaining poems and prose pieces in selection and with preface by Tord Hall Albert Bonniers Förlag
PREFACE
For reasons I will not go into here, Harry Martinson did not publish any new work in the last years of his life. There is therefore a very large literary legacy, the publication of which began in the fall of 1978 with "Längs ekots stigar" (Along the paths of the echo), published by Georg Svensson. This collection contains only a few purely scientific poems - the emphasis is on nature poetry. The selection was made from unpublished material - which had nevertheless reached the proof stage - in three previous collections.
It remains to address other lines of thought in Harry Martinson's work: the ideas in Aniara, which in various forms occupied his imagination until the end. To follow the continuation of this great theme - at least in part - is what I am trying to do in this second selection from the surviving archive.
The 103 songs in Aniara were part of a larger set of poems, and the author then worked for several years on a sequel, to be called 'The Dorids', the people of the tribe of Doris. Around 1959 there were about 80 songs - most of them in more or less completed drafts. The dominant figure in the Dorids would not be Isagel or the Mimarobe, but Nobia, the Samaritan from the tundra planet and deportation site of Mars. Nobia would be a norna (fate goddess), though not a cruel goddess of fate, but a norna who weaves goodness into the fabric of the world.
But the whole project remained a large-scale endeavor. The reasons were many: illness, world events, which seemed to be moving towards a fulfillment of the prophecies in Aniara, and which gave him an increasingly dark view of life: he told me that "Aniara has become a neurosis" ... I feel like Mima being blown apart'. But the decisive reason was surely his demand for absolute freedom in his creativity. He did not want to be confined, and the result was, as he himself said, 'I have stepped out of Aniara'.
The fact that Harry Martinson stepped out of Aniara, and thus also out of the Dorides, does not at all mean that he left the motifs or ideas found there, which cover the scientific field from atoms to stars. Rather, it means that he was able to write without direct connection to the characters of Aniara and the Dorides in particular.
I have therefore considered it justified to call this entire collection the Dorides, even though the prose pieces and several poems do not have a clearly visible connection with such a title.
In order to comment briefly on the selection, I would like to say a few words about Harry Martinson's attitude towards modern science (it is my intention to return to this subject in more detail).
There are two main lines. One is deterministic, and has its roots in classical physics, founded by Newton, which dominated until the end of the 19th century. It has a philosophical form in the law of causation, which means that if you know enough facts about a certain course of events in the present and in the past, you can precisely specify the course of events in the future. Examples of such events in the 'big world' - the macrocosm - are solar and lunar eclipses.
But in the world of atoms - the microcosm - this determinism does not apply. Heisenberg demonstrated this through his uncertainty relation, also known as the indeterminacy principle. In the atoms, individual events are indeterminate, we cannot discern any causality - there is randomness. But chance can be mastered by the methods of statistics, and we must content ourselves with a "statistical causality", which describes the course of events in the atom with the highest possible degree of probability.
It is this second, indeterministic line that has long been followed by most physicists. But there is one major exception, and that is Einstein. At the 1927 meeting of physicists in Brussels, for example, he asked Bohr, Heisenberg and others with mild irony whether they really believed that God plays dice - "ob der liebe Gott würfelt". Einstein was convinced that the universe follows an ordering principle, a geometric structure, which can be called a world soul. This is a pantheistic view that is reminiscent of Spinoza.
Similar ideas are already present in Aniara, but in this selection the picture has become more sharply defined. Harry Martinson does not believe that chance plays a decisive role in the course of the world, as is clear from several poems and prose pieces. He believes more in Einstein than in dozens of other Nobel Prize winners. Apart from these authorities, he follows his intuition.
His approach to religion has often been quoted: he chooses the Riddler over the God. This belief is reflected in 'The Riddle'. In 'Poems on Light and Darkness', published in 1971, Harry Martinson, with 'The Inner Light' and 'The Bird in the Phoenix Bell', presents the events inside the atom itself. These poems show that - although 'Aniara' and 'The Dorides' are more about stars than atoms - he never lost his interest in the microcosm. In this selection, it is the atoms that are more interesting than the stars.
The bard enters the atom. He describes the course of events in a world which is completely beyond our senses and which, despite the enormous aids of science, we will probably never be able to understand exactly. The story itself probably comes from Gamow's book "Mr. Tompkins Explores the Atom". Published in Swedish translation in 1946, it is, along with "Mr. Tompkins in Wonderland" (also 1946), the versatile Gamow's best popular science books. Harry Martinson rated them highly.
The two poems 'Submerged as in a dream but still awake' and 'Actually, the comprehensibility was slight' depict a journey of thought into the atom, and the same motif recurs in several other places.
The poem "A Cosmic Thickness Lying Boundlessly Spread" poetically depicts a world development related to the hypothesis of the "stationary universe" put forward by Hoyle and others, and to Klein-Alfvén's "symmetrical cosmology". For several reasons - mainly aesthetic - Harry Martinson did not like the theory of 'the big bang', which was celebrated by most scientists. His poem should have been written quite a long time ago, and perhaps he would have changed his mind if he had been given the opportunity to understand what the "cosmic background radiation" - with a temperature of about 3 degrees above absolute zero - means for the credibility of "The big bang". It took natural scientists some time to become convinced that this radiation can best be interpreted as a fading glow after an unimaginable cosmic explosion some 18 billion years ago.
This selection also contains several pieces of prose, which in general do not need any comment. But I would like to mention a few. For "The Figuration Patterns of the Goddancer's Juggling Program", in three sections, there is a drawing by Harry Martinson, reproduced on the cover of this collection. The spread comes from Hindu philosophy: we see 'Siwa's juggling dance before Brama'. The dominant curves are so-called lemniscates, which were already known to the ancient Greeks. The lemniscate looks like an eight and is the mathematical symbol for infinity. It is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the product of its distances to two given points is constant. In the center of the drawing there are several small curves. They are ellipses, and an ellipse - also first studied by the Greeks - is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the sum of its distances to two given points is constant. The result is a geometric pattern, similar to a flower, which at the same time provides a poetic image of the complex interplay of forces in the atom with outward and inward energy impulses The juggler finds it increasingly difficult to work with his ball-particles as he progresses through the periodic table of the elements. In the end, he "dances the spectral theme in the dance of the Phoenix" - a symbol of the indestructibility of both energy and poetry, and a recurring motif in Martinson's poetry.
"Delsaga om tidens ariadnetråd" (Part of the saga of the Ariadne thread of time) is almost a fantasy about four-dimensional space, where you have to be careful not to get on the wrong track. The selection of prose pieces ends with "Some fairies dancing in the summer night near a quiet lake". It is a cheerful tale where the author combines a love of the Swedish summer with a love of light.
I made this selection at the direct request of Harry. He even said several times that I should have all his scientific poems and prose pieces. But I think I judged this offer correctly when I saw it as an expression of his great generosity towards his friends. I always replied that he himself should complete and select what was to be published. But in his last years he did not want to publish anything. I therefore promised to make a selection if he did not change his mind.
He did not, and this collection is the result.
Finally, I would like to thank Ingrid Martinson and Georg Svensson for the understanding and assistance they have given me in bringing this selection to fruition.
Tord Hall
The Dorides (Doriderna)
The book you hold was written in Mima's hall.
Now, on a secret wavelength, it is sent home to you, my friend, who for some years inhabits a spherical beach called the Valley of Doris.
In other words, it was written so close to your own being that nothing could be closer to you than those described here. You are one of them.
Over the graves, the indifferent wind spreads
the whisper of the immortal gods
that no loss is foreseen in the grand scheme of things.
But what do the gods - those wasteful billionaires of the heavens - know about the beautiful and wonderful Doris?
how she was worth saving forever
and that whoever loved her
can never be comforted by the gods' continued waste.
About her a bird sings now alone in the tree of the grave. Of her as she was, the glorious one, if no other, the Dorides' thrush sings.
The window was full of stars,
The Leonids' swarm of stars came, then you know the time.
Autumn was gone, its yellowing burnt.
The lookout tower, closed on the wooded mountains.
I stood as a child of a time that saw the stars detach from the roofs towards a room where novas frightened a more distant valley, I found other myths than those I was used to picking hurled at me from the space of the Leonids.
I stood in the cathedral of fear of dreams.
The great copper woman who lay there with her back soldered to the lid of the sarcophagus drove horror into me, cast my foot with lead.
That the copper woman knew who I was, I immediately sensed as a deadly weight, and that I had been summoned here by herself, by the queen of copper, of that I was certain.
In empty benches sat forgotten years, from the emptiness of the auditorium the organ pipes shone like stalactites in the vault of a cave and there was nothing, no light, no hint that gathered my crumbling courage.
For everything was fulfilled as it was written in stone once when the water abandoned the green and it was said that man will go away and become the dead slave of the dead dust.
And as I stood there gripped, filled with horror
for this judgment and epitaph
which was predetermined and rehearsed
in the mute trumpet of the seraphim of the stones,
bells fell suddenly from the towers to the earth that rocked with an ore-broken thunder, and the copper woman rose, a scream of remembrance drawn from afar to her lips as she drew me in close to her copper body in terrified death.
He woke up. There was light. It was day.
And the Samaritan Nobia sat silent, but still heard the echo of the screams his dreams had squeezed out of his fear.
She searched for words simple enough for a stranger to grasp, but not so simple as to drive away his trust, hardly won yet.
In simple action she finally found them.
And she stood up and smiled with milk
From the moors of Gondrin to the mouth of this fugitive.
It is no exaggeration to say that space gave us long winter evenings rolled into one - the one that lasts. Our leisure time finally became a grim question with ice in our eyes and a frozen flame.
It became necessary to tell stories from reality - as it can be taken. I chose to tell about King Basii, who, supported by Chefone, forcibly turned himself into a god and magician in a celestial drama.
The Goldonder King felt like God and determined to live up to the gods he built himself a city in the sky.
It was a global world city of goldonders assembled into a kind of hive heaven.
But Basil's space-city, though it contained twelve million men in his service, was not enough for him; he had another built, and the greatest city in the world was soon in space. That city was a marvel to behold: a mighty golden dome, surrounded by three bionomically serving drabants, one of which was called the Vegetable City, one the Fish Drabant, and the third the Sting.
The names reveal their role and purpose.
So Basii sits in his heavenly land. The aquarium dragon orbits faithfully and Stings follows it with fattened animals and the vegetable moon amounts to the redwood.
The golden dome was the city of retreat for all climbers and celestial rebels, for gamma was a poison to all alike and all poor and rich alike had to choose between death and escape.
So many preferred the city of Basil.
But although he rules over twelve million
inhabitants of the great city of space, he is still very rarely happy.
And although the dragons in a faithful circle
raise animals and grow fish and wheat
Basil's only pleasure is when he gets
with Vulvis, the royal slave, to bathe in Lethe.
But all the deliciously good virginity
that can be enjoyed in Basil's harem
is in its nakedness a skin of fear.
of frightened dissimulation. And his love story
...is but a tale to be seen from the outside..,
and all his lust a forced voluptuousness.
Thus in The Night of Aniara I draw a little picture that everyone can understand from the rich treasure of reality.
And every time I make an arabesque in the hall of Mima about this space grotesque that Basil's space city can probably be said to be, I can for an hour or so make people sigh: the best is here anyway.
From Basil's false heaven we preserve. No, I'd rather travel with Aniara.
But soon the alarm goes off. The bells proclaim that the images of the fairy tale are overtaken by visions here that distress ignites.
And quickly to the halls I return.
The Goldonder's garden bubbled with glamour. A party was being held there and Chefone was there. He showed us a picture of the smith of happiness: the goldonder king Basii, a portrait jubilantly taken on the day the fifteen thousandth goldonder lay in the field ready for the wave of endlessness.
Then we were each seized by thoughtfulness and went to our own in solitude.
For in every ship of this number there was a Mima locked up in its cage.
The Rapid criminal was much loved and could operate as he pleased under the protection of the admiration he aroused. He always appeared at great speeds and abducted women whom he brought to Chefone in light blue rapid rockets.
Of course it was criminal, the people of the valley thought, but the charm was so close to the deed that the rampart was breached by sheer admiration and open worship soon followed the advice of restraint at the murder pedal.
Tucked away in a corner of our gondola, I pretend to smile at some rough fellows who spend their evenings with mockery and violence, with a devilish flutter as their sole aim.
They look at me and find me mortified,
- The clear approval is what they expect...
and I'm close to being squeezed badly
every time they jokingly glance at my grave door.
The brute is approaching, his dull face with many a foolish whim weighing on his mind.
And many a scowl missed by pigs from the worst corners of the soul he throws at me.
And when, full of fear, I strike with depleted strength in the dull face, the troll is only amused by my blow and raises his eyebrow with interest.
Then I flee between the troll's legs and out the other side of the danger of death.
How this happened can only be fully explained by the light of the gopher and the fourth tensor theory.
Here came the sober, composed and sober man who always kept his soul in trim and stuck to the dry, honest maxims of life.
Now he went into the fire with his imagination.
His cool reason was completely burned His sober composure was fried in seconds when the photo turbo in Xinombra exaggerated the cold matter.
And yet I can't help but admire the man as he made his way to the office where he had been employed for many years
and where, despite offers to flee to the tundra, he provided punch cards for thousands who broke up every day.
There died a man who never raised his voice, who always remained true to his calm tone, the martyr of calm composure who was burned when the cruel fires of excess were lit.
One is often chilled to the rock crystal by everything one hears before the ear falls like gray-white ash into the cremation hall.
And the girl from Rind who sees nothing is often heard to ask beyond the eye: how is the world of such torment visible? What is to be seen in this madness, where eeriness against eeriness is heard to answer?
Cultivating insight seemed futile
and many fell away from the faithful crowd.
and its program which was to see through
so that with the transparency of evil
as lens and instrument
try to find new signs
and new ways for the land of Gond.
Most people grew tired and withdrew from the room of the Truth Service, and Nobia sat for long periods almost alone, trying to hold on to her looms, always tormented
by the blood moisture of evil memories, the echoes of horror
surrounded her days
and made the Mara a bedfellow
who tore the fabric of the noman
and raped Nobia's dream
and the mood of life over the moors of Gondria.
It is as important to us to have friends
in the houses of distant worlds as at home by
the familiar road of the green earth.
You are reflected in endless eyes, watched by immense spectators.
They never interfere, but they watch the sewing and the mining,
the nurse and doctor on the rounds and the weapons in the shamelessly cruel wars.
Your own position under their eyes may be likened to the position you take with one whom you do not wish to grieve, but to share joy and to please.
So spoke the old astronomer, and then laid his head down to rest.
And he went smiling to the eternity that had been waiting by his side all his life.
His forehead shone with its ideas, even in the dead of death in the years of space.
He was among those who know the fairies of everything, those who get to comb Berenice's hair.
But for the longest time I still want to believe that this is the torment of an evil dream and the ship Aniara a phantom from which I will wake up in the Valley of Doris.
Perhaps everything is a nightmare and I want to wait with poison and a knife. They say there are dreams of a kind that seem as long as a man's life.
Out of the dust you were born, from its gifts you were supported.
You did not manage the gift, many a meadow you made desolate.
What is beyond this sea is called Going down deep among riddles too great to be found in a grave.
Faith can never cover more than what you see in spirit.
All the other things are too much to bear.
Do you hear the sound of the rescue team calling from an emergency station that is one of a thousand others, regardless of faith?
Now guess where the road leads and what Paradise is.
One of a thousand rescue stations scattered along the coast here.
Now I want to sing to my ear and ask it to listen to a voice that descends not to destroy the language I have collected for comfort. For the comfort of life and death, I whisper the price of sensitivity every time the sinful flow of language storms the breeze of the spirit.
One night Heba lay awake in the city of Aniara and heard the painter's joyful painting.
The skilled varnisher was varnishing the years that would one day end on a stainless steel stretcher.
And suddenly from Heba there was a shout against the smooth roof.
The skilled varnishers know their business well.
Too hard to become joy, too happy to become sorrow. The painters paint everything in Aniara's castle.
We know that we have been left out of the higher insight of the ocean of mystery and that we lack the tools to reach the depths of clarity that Mima once gave. But since Mima's death, the average of what we achieve of truth is not very high average is what is required if the choice of new paths is to be avoided.
A small number reach the values that should be the average to reach.
The others are satisfied with the flow of thought,
the rattle with which time is made to pass.
A daughter of my mother, called Tovi, was born in the night of space. Alas, dear ones, where can the crowd's demand for sensation and wonder lead us?
First came, as it should be, the blissfully sweet and indescribably pure birth, when the mimicry lay naked, uncovered and panting in the golden bed of the formula.
To her camp now came the mimicry and winged it
the naked one, as when the butterfly flies the honey chalice of its flower, in Dori's meadows. The description is not given (much to my regret) because there is always the possibility of a wave of miracles taking place in secret, to the great disappointment of many who wish to see how the mimagyne makes love, and from what angle the picture of the goddess's love life should be taken in order to really reach the audience.
Can it not be enough that Tovi gave birth to an allegorical child whom Isagel happily suckled at her breast and practiced miracles and consolation You may think so yourself, but others think otherwise.
For not even a mimagyn can defend the fruit of her womb against the human hyena who demands a clear answer on every point of what precedes it all: the prelude to sowing,
with the insides of the thighs well described in a clear image that gives the "public" a feeling that it was in the bed.
Yes, it has happened that I have sometimes asked myself (in private silence, of course) whether the smooth ice of superficiality does not have enough joy, and that the great swallows in these spaces are only terrible wakes which, compared to the agile princess and heartlessly threatening with superior power, will in the end become the cold room of beauty.
So small a strip bears, the other breaks, and all the incomparably large gapes with the same dark death which, unchanging with cold upon cold, only imitates itself.
To raise one's hand then with a light-year pound and demonstrate the fugue of eternity on terrible organs, while the girl in the icy distance dances, hardly greater to see than a fly flown away towards the light, it is to chill with the great weapon as when the superpower with the powers the element hides coldly makes its rows in the land of Gond against unsuspecting cities and, although itself dismissing all talk of sin punishment and trial, nevertheless treats the human with such terrible flame that this terrible torrent of loose gamma released by those who do not mean sin punishment nevertheless cruelly destroys both Yaal and Gena and melts down to ashes the wonder Heba
With the same fire they turned on Chebeba.
Posterity does not understand you so easily.
It judges according to the image of posterity
and counts up the time you lived in
as rows of negligence, as offenses
against the spirit of foresight, the duties of thought.
To this it adds the work of suffering
and piles up, as blind as a judge
as you were blind as a criminal, case by case.
Can those who have killed the foundations of joy and destroyed the great city of joy have the right to the joys of life?
Does Cain have the right to be happy?
Can those who strangled the joys of Xinombra and burned the valley of paradise have the right to heights of heaven other than Aniara's daily agony?
I ask but never get an answer. I have to arrange for pastimes
for the hordes of Aniara and manage its entertainment.
A wave of newly awakened hatred swept through the mountains where Nobia lived in deep mines and ghostly white lights illuminated every thread of life in the fabrics she wove.
She had sought and found the thread of life - a discovery of how healing rays are empowered by the inner council of things and fused with the heart of the atom.
And while hatred swelled around the mountains
and wounds screamed in the valley of time.
she wove day and night until the color of victory
and the skin of life rose in the hall of death.
Of her beauty little can be said. It was lost in a wave of radiation but the clear purity of the soul could be weighed; in healed wounds we saw her reflection.
Then I will throw you out of your chair. I will break your armchair view, because it is false and holds a convulsive security in a time that has slipped out of its rooms, but also the other way around: that it becomes a view without deep insight.
From this world, I shall send you happiness today to the kingdom of love, to the evil shore where the Samaritan Nobia and others spread works of love from country to country.
Figuring out the ways of evil and tracking down all the poison in the city of hate was futile, for hate stood there with heavy blocks united row by row.
Within its walls there was life and movement in the birthing centers and squares where human beings were conceived and human beings were born and human life in the human gap was destroyed. It was best to pretend that this city of self-righteous evil existed as nothing more than a devilish childhood that would mature, grow tired of itself.
We resolved to keep on sending saints there for the longest time.
from the saints' camps as long as the funds lasted
and as far as the need still aroused the heart.
This plan was tried for nine years, during which the Rind camp of saints bled to death: an act of self-sacrifice based on faith in the powers of good. But the heavy wall of hate stood just as hard, and the fatigue of leadership followed the act of hate; only too great was the throne of victory we had.
A single city consumed the power which we had thought sufficient for the transformation of the world.
On a rare occasion, the happiness of being free from desire also came.
Then the emptiness suddenly became populated by a kind of spiritualized mystery.
We walked the spirit's path of happiness along the beach, exchanging thoughts, making fortune cards.
It was evening and sunset in the sea.
Night fell, but the land of thought stood firm.
He woke up. She said: guess where.
I can't, he said. How did you get here? The same way you did: up the gravel path and then straight to the left among the cypresses. There was a dewy path the moonlight itself went there with light steps which I tried to imitate.
And when everything was past and the path was over
I managed to become a clear crystal and find you, my friend, on this path.
It is so transparently wonderful here.
We no longer exist. All that was is over.
Neither god nor devil here reaches us anymore and the end is the cruel parody of life.
Where is the plain text?
This is what I'm looking for.
The one that fits but still gives song.
After thanking God that he was a wasp and not something else, he continued between the leafy branches and stung the farmer.
Laid out by spiritual mobs, the truth becomes worse than the lie. When the mob washes the barley, it is never clean.
The rabble always wash in the dunghill from the Augean stables.
Matema's camel bells ring in the deserts of speech where the caravans of unfinished quarrels
never reach their oasis, only become more camels.
Immersed as in a dream but still awake, I found myself changed and so naked that no dream has words for what it was like when, transformed by the stone, I cut down towards the inner realms and while this was happening I became smaller, smaller and even more stripped of layers and layers of time and space as I sank further and further into the stone, deeper and deeper into things.
Who undressed me, wore me down so much that no conceivable smallness so small on this earth can be imagined unless one is long since beyond what every comprehensible thought wants to deny.
And yet I was being stripped and reduced still further in no direction.
So sunk, unceasingly sunk in
towards even more breathtaking reduction
I retained in my dream a way of seeing
and understand that I was traveling into
to the dimensions, the innermost
who with their interior work with their interior
and whose interiors compose the world.
They scare children with darkness, criminals with punishment and sinners with realms beyond death where the vengeful desire to torment has transported its arsenal of tormenting images.
But sorrow follows us every day, and joy follows us every day.
We ourselves are the sorrow, we are also the joy, everything human is rooted in humanity, and no human being can escape humanity, not her hatred and her self-degradation, nor the joy she spreads, nor the love she forms.
There is a third land that is not death and not life, but the reality that pervades all realities, and spins the very thread of the fabric from which dreams are woven. Yes, I had come to the rooms where these threads are spun. When I arrived, I stepped out and saw no longer surprised the smallest fairy, who herself was not at all surprised to welcome me to her inner land.
And although we were both unimaginably smaller than two grains of traveling dust on a suit on earth, we thought we were big here in this smallest room to which I have now come and which nevertheless encloses with its vault a separate world of realities formed.
On the contrary, I cannot describe what I saw of strange things, but that will follow when the habit of telling stories has been practiced for other habits than what life offers,
and other things than those called death.
For though beyond all I have known
this was not death
and though within all I have known
this was not life.
Actually, the comprehensibility was slight, as when multiples arranged in layers, and layered in the directions of space, make the fabric of the dream omnidirectional structural and become a fabric consisting of paths where the thread is only thought of as a path as a sign that here the shuttle has gone, but where is the thread? The thread is the path. I saw how the gnome was in a quandary as to which of two different possibilities to give clarity.
Then came formulas of such an elusive nature that the gnome was again gripped by the anxiety
which arises when the explanation is attempted but little response is felt by the pupil.
And with a look that shone as if with sorrow, he signaled a break in the dilemma. And with a formula more magical than comprehensible, we left the atom.
We expanded to other contexts and sat on a leaf next to a bee eagerly searching for honey in a meadow.
The Dance
Around the great star of the day we shall orbit the years we have been given to live, and our family for a few thousand centuries, perhaps more, perhaps less, no one knows.
But the time that we are orbiting is so small compared to that of the suns where they wander around in orbits in the galaxy our family named the Milky Way, luminous to behold.
What can our eyes see, our hearts cry out at the thought of atoms going around in the same way with waves and particles.
Some have called this the dance of the gods - it is always being danced by everything in the universe.
All indications are that among the arts of the muses
the art of dance is the first and the last,
and we are in it, dancing out
our role in the dance, it is already being danced
in other worlds separate from our time,
in other dance theaters,
yet one thing is clear
that we are dancing our turns.
Our role in it
is ours and no one else's.
Our own role in the dance art of all worlds.
Economic overview
Our earth wanders alive alone, around the sun our dear parent.
As far as the giant tubes reach no living neighbor to see.
Desolate and empty on the one who received the name of the god of war, burning hot and desolate on the one who received the name of the goddess of love.
Jupiter, planet of Zeus
ice-clad to two hundred times the height of the Himalayas.
The others are death's door.
Beyond that, light years to the next planetary village.
So each sun has only one living person, and that one is a leased farm, indefinitely and to an unreliable and dangerous race.
Here is a world of light distributed in the mystery of things.
Here is the salvaged light in the innumerable rooms of the stone.
Wands point with poles directed to their rooms inside mountains and stones, spinning mystery.
Deep in her fairy tale, she lives for the sake of the tale.
the norn who has learned to spin the yarn from the wool of the riddles.
The spirit of Ideema from space in endless lines gathered the seeds into the durable wood of the suns.
From far beyond time the hydrogen came in modest garb and built for its God the ingenious nests of the atoms.
Come, let us nurture the foundation of our life. The green sphere we have been given to live on in the universe's lottery system.
When the next lucky draw can get rid of the Milky Way's big tombola we do not know and can never reach.
But we do know one thing for sure: the next draw will not include us.
A stranger called chance shuffles the cards and deals them to the local players.
Every single poker face keeps a straight face.
There are plenty of goldfish in the tureen here.
According to the law, the silent coincidence itself is the last to raise its hand, with ice in its stomach.
Soon jaws of granite are chewing the cigar.
Where is the bundle of happiness among the starlings?
That question is answered when chance wins.
Then the shot goes off, chance's life disappears. His house of cards collapses, but soon everyone at the counter thinks it was a nice fish, that no one won, that chance herself was told by Smith and Wesson what chance was.
by Smith and Wesson what chance should do.
( translation to be continued )
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Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
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2023.05.29 17:03 AutoModerator WATCH The Magician's Elephant Online Free ReddiT
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It features an ensemble cast that includes Florence Pugh, Harry Styles, Wilde, Gemma Chan, KiKi Layne, Nick Kroll, and Chris Pine. In the film, a young wife living in a 2250s company town begins to believe there is a sinister secret being kept from her by the man who runs it.
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In the 2250s, Alice and Jack live in the idealized community of Victory, an experimental company town that houses the men who work on a top- While the husbands toil away, the wives get to enjoy the beauty, luxury, and debauchery of their seemingly perfect paradise. However, when cracks in her idyllic life begin to appear, exposing flashes of something sinister lurking below the surface, Alice can't help but question exactly what she's doing in Victory.
In ancient Kahndaq, Teth Adam bestowed the almighty powers of the gods. After using these powers for vengeance, he was imprisoned, becoming Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant . Nearly 5,000 years have passed, and Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant has gone from man to myth to legend. Now free, his unique form of justice, born out of rage, is challenged by modern-day heroes who form the Justice Society: Hawkman, Dr. Fate, Atom Smasher, and Cyclone.
Production companies : Warner Bros. Pictures.
At San Diego Comic-Con in July, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had other people raising eyebrows when he said that his long-awaited superhero debut in Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant would be the beginning of “a new era” for the DC Extended Universe naturally followed: What did he mean? And what would that kind of reset mean for the remainder of DCEU's roster, including Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the rest of the Justice League, Suicide Squad, Shazam and so on.As
Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant neared theaters, though, Johnson clarified that statement in a recent sit-down with Yahoo Entertainment (watch above).
“I feel like this is our opportunity now to expand the DC Universe and what we have in Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which I think is really cool just as a fan, is we introduce five new superheroes to the world,” Johnson tells us. Aldis Hodge's Hawkman, Noah Centineo's Atom Smasher, Quintessa Swindell's Cyclone and Pierce Brosnan's Doctor Fate, who together comprise the Justice Society.) “One anti-hero.” (That would be DJ's Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant .)
“And what an opportunity. The Justice Society pre-dated the Justice League. So opportunity, expand out the universe, in my mind… all these characters interact. That's why you see in Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , we acknowledge everyone: Batman , Superman , Wonder Woman, Flash, we acknowledge everybody.There's also some Easter eggs in there, too.So that's what I meant by the resetting. Maybe resetting' wasn't a good term.only
one can claim to be the most powerful superhero .And Johnson, when gently pressed, says it's his indestructible, 5,000-year-old Kahndaqi warrior also known as Teth-Adam, that is the most powerful superhero in any universe, DC, Marvel or otherwise
"By the way, it's not hyperbole because we made the movie."And we made him this powerful.
There's nothing so wrong with “Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” that it should be avoided, but nothing—besides the appealing presence of Dwayne Johnson—that makes it worth rushing out to see. spectacles that have more or less taken over studio filmmaking, but it accumulates the genre's—and the business's—bad habits into a single two- hour-plus package, and only hints at the format's occasional pleasures. “Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” feels like a place-filler for a movie that's remaining to be made, but, in its bare and shrugged-off sufficiency, it does one positive thing that, if nothing else, at least accounts for its success: for all the churning action and elaborately jerry-rigged plot, there's little to distract from the movie's pedestal-like display of Johnson, its real-life superhero.
It's no less numbing to find material meant for children retconned for adults—and, in the process, for most of the naïve delight to be leached out, and for any serious concerns to be shoehorned in and then waved away with dazzle and noise. Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” offers a moral realm that draws no lines, a personal one of simplistic stakes, a political one that suggests any interpretation, an audiovisual one that rehashes long-familiar tropes and repackages overused devices for a commercial experiment that might as well wear its import as its title. When I was in Paris in 1983, Jerry Lewis—yes, they really did love him there—had a new movie in theaters. You're Crazy, Jerry."Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant " could be retitled 'You're a Superhero, Dwayne'—it's the marketing team's PowerPoint presentation extended to feature length.
In addition to being Johnson's DC Universe debut, “Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” is also notable for marking the return of Henry Cavill's Superman. The cameo is likely to set up future showdowns between the two characters, but Hodge was completely unaware of it until he saw the film.
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Unfortunately, Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant is not currently available to stream on Disney Plus and it's not expected that the film will release on Disney Plus until late December at the absolute earliest.
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Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant has finally ended the box office blues. It will be a close call, but based on the estimates, the year's biggest opener remains Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness with its $187 million start. Nonetheless, Wakanda Forever's $180 million opening is a huge one, being the biggest ever for the month of November (beating the $158 million of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire), the second biggest of the year, and the 13th biggest of all time (though it could go up or down a few slots once the actuals come out). It led an overall weekend box office of $208 million, which is the fourth biggest of the year and the biggest by a long shot of the past four months, with no other weekend since July 8 -10 even going above $133 million.
This isn't the $202 million opening that we saw from Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant in February 2018, nor should we expect the amazing legs that were able to get that film to an astonishing $700 million. With that said, expect it to perform strong throughout the holiday season, likely repeating the five-weekend number-one streak that the first film had, and it shouldn't have any trouble becoming the second highest grossing film of the year so far, beating the $411 million cume of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. The audience response is strong, with the A CinemaScore falling below the first film's A+ but bouncing back from the B+'s earned by Doctor Strange 2 and Magic Mike's Last Dance, which ranked among the worst for the MCU. improvement over the recent franchise installations,with the aforementioned films coming in at 74% and 64% respectively on Rotten Tomatoes, both at the lower end for Marvel films, while Wakanda Forever's 84% is closer to franchise norms, though not meeting the high bar set by the first Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant 's 96%.
The sequel opened to $150 million internationally, which Disney reports is 4% ahead of the first film when comparing like for likes at current exchange rates. Overall, the global cume comes to $330 million. Can it become the year's third film to make it past $1 billion worldwide despite China and Russia, which made up around $124 million of the first film's $682 million international box office, being out of play? It may be tough, but it's not impossible. Legging out past $500 million is plausible on the domestic front (that would be a multiplier of at least 2.7), and another $500 million abroad would be a drop of around $58 million from the original after excluding the two MIA markets. It'd be another story if audiences didn't love the film,but the positive reception suggests that Wakanda Forever will outperform the legs on this year's earlier MCU titles (Multiverse of Madness and Love and Thunder had multipliers of 2.2 and 2.3 respectively).
As for the rest of the box office, there's little to get excited about, with nothing else grossing above $10 million as Hollywood shied away from releasing anything significant not just this weekend but also over the previous two weekends. When Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant opened in 2018, there was no counterprogramming that opened the same weekend, but Peter Rabbit and Fifty Shades Freed were in their second weekends and took second and third with $17.5 million and $17.3 million respectively. That weekend had an overall cume of $287 million compared to $208 million this weekend Take away the $22 million gap between the two Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant films and there's still a $57 million gap between the two weekends. The difference may not feel that large when a mega blockbuster is propping up the grosses,but the contrast is harsher when the mid-level films are the entire box office as we saw in recent months.
Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which is the biggest grosser of the rough post-summer, pre-Wakanda Forever season, came in second with just $8.6 million. Despite the blockbuster competition that arrived in its fourth weekend, the numbers didn't totally collapse, dropping 53 % for a cume of $151 million. Worldwide it is at $352 million, which isn't a great cume as the grosses start to wind down considering its $200 million budget. Still, it's the biggest of any film since Magic Mike's Last Dance, though Wakanda Forever will overtake it any day now.
Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant came in third place in its fourth weekend, down 29% with $6.1 million, emerging as one of the season's most durable grossers and one of the year's few bright spots when it comes to films for adults. The domestic cume is $56.5 million Fourth place went to Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, which had a negligible drop of 5% for a $3.2 million sixth weekend and $40.8 million cume., in fact )
, which isn't surprising considering it's the only family film on the market, and it's close to grossing four times its $11.4 million opening. Still, the $72.6 million worldwide cume is soft given the $50 million budget , though a number of international markets have yet to open.
Finishing up the top five is Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which had its biggest weekend drop yet, falling 42% for a $2.3 million seventh weekend. Of course, that's no reason to frown for the horror film, which has a domestic cume of $103 million and global cume of $ 210 million from a budget of just $20 million.
The one new specialty title of note comes from a filmmaker we don't typically associate with the specialty box office: Steven Spielberg. The Beard's semi-autobiographical family drama Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant opened in four theaters in New York and Los Angeles to $160k, a $40k average. The film expands to 600 theaters the day before Thanksgiving, and it has the potential to break out in a way that none of the other of the season's awards contenders have. We're also seeing very solid numbers from Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which grossed $1.7 million this weekend for a seventh place finish, bringing its cume to $5.8 million.
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Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant hits theaters on September 27, 2023. Tickets to see the film at your local movie theater are available online here. The film is being released in a wide release so you can watch it in person.
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The streaming giant has a massive catalog of television shows and movies, but it does not include 'Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant .' We recommend our readers watch other dark fantasy films like 'The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf.'
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Crunchyroll, along with Funimation, has acquired the rights to the film and will be responsible for its distribution in North America.Therefore, we recommend our readers to look for the movie on the streamer in the coming months. subscribers can also watch dark fantasy shows like 'Jujutsu Kaisen.'
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Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , the latest installment in the Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant franchise, is coming to Disney+ on July 8th! This new movie promises to be just as exciting as the previous ones, with plenty of action and adventure to keep viewers entertained. you're looking forward to watching it, you may be wondering when it will be available for your Disney+ subscription. Here's an answer to that question!
Is Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant on Funimation?
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It features an ensemble cast that includes Florence Pugh, Harry Styles, Wilde, Gemma Chan, KiKi Layne, Nick Kroll, and Chris Pine. In the film, a young wife living in a 2250s company town begins to believe there is a sinister secret being kept from her by the man who runs it.
What is the story of Don't worry darling?
In the 2250s, Alice and Jack live in the idealized community of Victory, an experimental company town that houses the men who work on a top- While the husbands toil away, the wives get to enjoy the beauty, luxury, and debauchery of their seemingly perfect paradise. However, when cracks in her idyllic life begin to appear, exposing flashes of something sinister lurking below the surface, Alice can't help but question exactly what she's doing in Victory.
In ancient Kahndaq, Teth Adam bestowed the almighty powers of the gods. After using these powers for vengeance, he was imprisoned, becoming Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant . Nearly 5,000 years have passed, and Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant has gone from man to myth to legend. Now free, his unique form of justice, born out of rage, is challenged by modern-day heroes who form the Justice Society: Hawkman, Dr. Fate, Atom Smasher, and Cyclone.
Production companies : Warner Bros. Pictures.
At San Diego Comic-Con in July, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had other people raising eyebrows when he said that his long-awaited superhero debut in Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant would be the beginning of “a new era” for the DC Extended Universe naturally followed: What did he mean? And what would that kind of reset mean for the remainder of DCEU's roster, including Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the rest of the Justice League, Suicide Squad, Shazam and so on.As
Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant neared theaters, though, Johnson clarified that statement in a recent sit-down with Yahoo Entertainment (watch above).
“I feel like this is our opportunity now to expand the DC Universe and what we have in Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which I think is really cool just as a fan, is we introduce five new superheroes to the world,” Johnson tells us. Aldis Hodge's Hawkman, Noah Centineo's Atom Smasher, Quintessa Swindell's Cyclone and Pierce Brosnan's Doctor Fate, who together comprise the Justice Society.) “One anti-hero.” (That would be DJ's Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant .)
“And what an opportunity. The Justice Society pre-dated the Justice League. So opportunity, expand out the universe, in my mind… all these characters interact. That's why you see in Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , we acknowledge everyone: Batman , Superman , Wonder Woman, Flash, we acknowledge everybody.There's also some Easter eggs in there, too.So that's what I meant by the resetting. Maybe resetting' wasn't a good term.only
one can claim to be the most powerful superhero .And Johnson, when gently pressed, says it's his indestructible, 5,000-year-old Kahndaqi warrior also known as Teth-Adam, that is the most powerful superhero in any universe, DC, Marvel or otherwise
"By the way, it's not hyperbole because we made the movie."And we made him this powerful.
There's nothing so wrong with “Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” that it should be avoided, but nothing—besides the appealing presence of Dwayne Johnson—that makes it worth rushing out to see. spectacles that have more or less taken over studio filmmaking, but it accumulates the genre's—and the business's—bad habits into a single two- hour-plus package, and only hints at the format's occasional pleasures. “Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” feels like a place-filler for a movie that's remaining to be made, but, in its bare and shrugged-off sufficiency, it does one positive thing that, if nothing else, at least accounts for its success: for all the churning action and elaborately jerry-rigged plot, there's little to distract from the movie's pedestal-like display of Johnson, its real-life superhero.
It's no less numbing to find material meant for children retconned for adults—and, in the process, for most of the naïve delight to be leached out, and for any serious concerns to be shoehorned in and then waved away with dazzle and noise. Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” offers a moral realm that draws no lines, a personal one of simplistic stakes, a political one that suggests any interpretation, an audiovisual one that rehashes long-familiar tropes and repackages overused devices for a commercial experiment that might as well wear its import as its title. When I was in Paris in 1983, Jerry Lewis—yes, they really did love him there—had a new movie in theaters. You're Crazy, Jerry."Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant " could be retitled 'You're a Superhero, Dwayne'—it's the marketing team's PowerPoint presentation extended to feature length.
In addition to being Johnson's DC Universe debut, “Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant ” is also notable for marking the return of Henry Cavill's Superman. The cameo is likely to set up future showdowns between the two characters, but Hodge was completely unaware of it until he saw the film.
“They kept that all the way under wraps, and I didn't know until maybe a day or two before the premiere,” he recently said Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant FULLMOVIE ONLINE
Is Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant Available On Hulu?Viewers are saying that they want to view the new TV show Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant on Hulu. Unfortunately, this is not possible since Hulu currently does not offer any of the free episodes of this series streaming at this time. the MTV channel, which you get by subscribing to cable or satellite TV services. You will not be able to watch it on Hulu or any other free streaming service.
Is The Magician's Elephant Fullmovie Online For Free on Disney Plus?
Unfortunately, Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant is not currently available to stream on Disney Plus and it's not expected that the film will release on Disney Plus until late December at the absolute earliest.
While Disney eventually releases its various studios' films on Disney Plus for subscribers to watch via its streaming platform, most major releases don't arrive on Disney Plus until at least 45-60 days after the film's theatrical release.
Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant has finally ended the box office blues. It will be a close call, but based on the estimates, the year's biggest opener remains Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness with its $187 million start. Nonetheless, Wakanda Forever's $180 million opening is a huge one, being the biggest ever for the month of November (beating the $158 million of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire), the second biggest of the year, and the 13th biggest of all time (though it could go up or down a few slots once the actuals come out). It led an overall weekend box office of $208 million, which is the fourth biggest of the year and the biggest by a long shot of the past four months, with no other weekend since July 8 -10 even going above $133 million.
This isn't the $202 million opening that we saw from Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant in February 2018, nor should we expect the amazing legs that were able to get that film to an astonishing $700 million. With that said, expect it to perform strong throughout the holiday season, likely repeating the five-weekend number-one streak that the first film had, and it shouldn't have any trouble becoming the second highest grossing film of the year so far, beating the $411 million cume of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. The audience response is strong, with the A CinemaScore falling below the first film's A+ but bouncing back from the B+'s earned by Doctor Strange 2 and Magic Mike's Last Dance, which ranked among the worst for the MCU. improvement over the recent franchise installations,with the aforementioned films coming in at 74% and 64% respectively on Rotten Tomatoes, both at the lower end for Marvel films, while Wakanda Forever's 84% is closer to franchise norms, though not meeting the high bar set by the first Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant 's 96%.
The sequel opened to $150 million internationally, which Disney reports is 4% ahead of the first film when comparing like for likes at current exchange rates. Overall, the global cume comes to $330 million. Can it become the year's third film to make it past $1 billion worldwide despite China and Russia, which made up around $124 million of the first film's $682 million international box office, being out of play? It may be tough, but it's not impossible. Legging out past $500 million is plausible on the domestic front (that would be a multiplier of at least 2.7), and another $500 million abroad would be a drop of around $58 million from the original after excluding the two MIA markets. It'd be another story if audiences didn't love the film,but the positive reception suggests that Wakanda Forever will outperform the legs on this year's earlier MCU titles (Multiverse of Madness and Love and Thunder had multipliers of 2.2 and 2.3 respectively).
As for the rest of the box office, there's little to get excited about, with nothing else grossing above $10 million as Hollywood shied away from releasing anything significant not just this weekend but also over the previous two weekends. When Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant opened in 2018, there was no counterprogramming that opened the same weekend, but Peter Rabbit and Fifty Shades Freed were in their second weekends and took second and third with $17.5 million and $17.3 million respectively. That weekend had an overall cume of $287 million compared to $208 million this weekend Take away the $22 million gap between the two Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant films and there's still a $57 million gap between the two weekends. The difference may not feel that large when a mega blockbuster is propping up the grosses,but the contrast is harsher when the mid-level films are the entire box office as we saw in recent months.
Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which is the biggest grosser of the rough post-summer, pre-Wakanda Forever season, came in second with just $8.6 million. Despite the blockbuster competition that arrived in its fourth weekend, the numbers didn't totally collapse, dropping 53 % for a cume of $151 million. Worldwide it is at $352 million, which isn't a great cume as the grosses start to wind down considering its $200 million budget. Still, it's the biggest of any film since Magic Mike's Last Dance, though Wakanda Forever will overtake it any day now.
Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant came in third place in its fourth weekend, down 29% with $6.1 million, emerging as one of the season's most durable grossers and one of the year's few bright spots when it comes to films for adults. The domestic cume is $56.5 million Fourth place went to Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, which had a negligible drop of 5% for a $3.2 million sixth weekend and $40.8 million cume., in fact )
, which isn't surprising considering it's the only family film on the market, and it's close to grossing four times its $11.4 million opening. Still, the $72.6 million worldwide cume is soft given the $50 million budget , though a number of international markets have yet to open.
Finishing up the top five is Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which had its biggest weekend drop yet, falling 42% for a $2.3 million seventh weekend. Of course, that's no reason to frown for the horror film, which has a domestic cume of $103 million and global cume of $ 210 million from a budget of just $20 million.
The one new specialty title of note comes from a filmmaker we don't typically associate with the specialty box office: Steven Spielberg. The Beard's semi-autobiographical family drama Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant opened in four theaters in New York and Los Angeles to $160k, a $40k average. The film expands to 600 theaters the day before Thanksgiving, and it has the potential to break out in a way that none of the other of the season's awards contenders have. We're also seeing very solid numbers from Watch ‘The Magician's Elephant , which grossed $1.7 million this weekend for a seventh place finish, bringing its cume to $5.8 million.
2023.05.29 16:59 yearlylottery Things I Found Helped Surviving "That Class"
I hope that a teacher who is struggling in OctobeNovember reads this post (along with a bit of therapy typing for me lol). This year was not my first year teaching but my job offer of teaching second grade with a low number of students in title I quickly became teaching fourth grade to 35 students with zero support from anyone besides the one other teacher in my grade level. It was the first time in my career I would go home feeling defeated, frustrated, and like a terrible teacher. The kids didn't like me, I didn't like my demeanor, and it was the only time I had ever seriously considered not sticking it out. That being said I dove down deep and turned the school year around.
1.) Classroom Management: Here is what helped with my kiddos. The first thing I did was have a good prize box. Prime Drinks, Mr. Beast Chocolates, fidget toys, full size candy etc. It probably cost me about $150 to fill this up with shit the kids liked. We went over classroom expectations of which I had five. They were clear, no BS, and we went over them in depth. I then posted a classroom anchor chart that was for our Friday Prize Wheel. Throughout the week when I would see kids following the expectations I would call them out positively and write their name up on our chart. When I started this in the mornings I would literally call out every single student I saw doing the right thing. Positivity is contagious.
2.) Once you have all of the kids excited, once you have them working for your behavior system, you then make an example out of the first kid to not follow the chart. You don't argue, don't raise your voice, but rather follow the consequences you have in place. It is imperative to actually have the kids working for you/respect you before this happens.
3.) Work with your team: As best as you can your grade level teams have to work well together. While nothing can make up for poor admin, having people in the building you can trust to send a student to on a break or discuss difficulties with is imperative.
4.) The second admin talk about how you need to cut kids some slack because of their home lives you absolutely ignore it. You never get to be the teacher kids remember if you aren't the teacher they are afraid to mess with.
5.) Feel comfortable with every consequence and reward you give. Are you going to be comfortable giving these out all year? If not then do not do it.
Things I learned on the interview process:
I came from a school with a super positive atmosphere and did not realize how rare that was. Here is what I learned from interviewing:
1.) Don't ask their typical class sizes, ask what their current class sizes are. You'd be surprised at how different these answers are.
2.) Look up or ask what their rate of teacher turnover is. I never would have accepted my current position had I known they only keep 50% of their teachers. My next school only has two teachers leaving which equates to a 90%+ rate of keeping teachers. If a school has a high retention rate ask admin why they think that is. If a school has a high turnover rate ask what they are planning on changing.
3.) Ask a school what their largest strength and weakness is.
The second you get admin cringing to these three questions is the second you know there is likely an issue. It's never you fault that you get put in a position with too many kids, little support, etc. If you are reading this during the school year and looking to make a change please reach out. ONLY FOUR MORE DAYS!
submitted by yearlylottery to Teachers [link] [comments]
1.) Classroom Management: Here is what helped with my kiddos. The first thing I did was have a good prize box. Prime Drinks, Mr. Beast Chocolates, fidget toys, full size candy etc. It probably cost me about $150 to fill this up with shit the kids liked. We went over classroom expectations of which I had five. They were clear, no BS, and we went over them in depth. I then posted a classroom anchor chart that was for our Friday Prize Wheel. Throughout the week when I would see kids following the expectations I would call them out positively and write their name up on our chart. When I started this in the mornings I would literally call out every single student I saw doing the right thing. Positivity is contagious.
2.) Once you have all of the kids excited, once you have them working for your behavior system, you then make an example out of the first kid to not follow the chart. You don't argue, don't raise your voice, but rather follow the consequences you have in place. It is imperative to actually have the kids working for you/respect you before this happens.
3.) Work with your team: As best as you can your grade level teams have to work well together. While nothing can make up for poor admin, having people in the building you can trust to send a student to on a break or discuss difficulties with is imperative.
4.) The second admin talk about how you need to cut kids some slack because of their home lives you absolutely ignore it. You never get to be the teacher kids remember if you aren't the teacher they are afraid to mess with.
5.) Feel comfortable with every consequence and reward you give. Are you going to be comfortable giving these out all year? If not then do not do it.
Things I learned on the interview process:
I came from a school with a super positive atmosphere and did not realize how rare that was. Here is what I learned from interviewing:
1.) Don't ask their typical class sizes, ask what their current class sizes are. You'd be surprised at how different these answers are.
2.) Look up or ask what their rate of teacher turnover is. I never would have accepted my current position had I known they only keep 50% of their teachers. My next school only has two teachers leaving which equates to a 90%+ rate of keeping teachers. If a school has a high retention rate ask admin why they think that is. If a school has a high turnover rate ask what they are planning on changing.
3.) Ask a school what their largest strength and weakness is.
The second you get admin cringing to these three questions is the second you know there is likely an issue. It's never you fault that you get put in a position with too many kids, little support, etc. If you are reading this during the school year and looking to make a change please reach out. ONLY FOUR MORE DAYS!
2023.05.29 16:58 AutoModerator Todd Valentine - Verbal Game Academy
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WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
submitted by AutoModerator to ToodValentineRSD [link] [comments]
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
2023.05.29 16:58 mackenzietennis Are there people that just don’t tolerate serotonergic meds?
I have very bad back and pelvic pain that came out of nowhere. Doctors suspect Covid imitated but aren’t sure if it is neurological, neuromuscular, autoimmune, etc. I’ve been diagnosed with interstitial cystitis and tarlov cysts and still going through long differential to figure out if those root cause of pain or how to control. I’ve tried ton of meds for IC, pelvic floor PT, injections, etc.
Anyway the only reason I bring this up is because this whole process of trying to find relief and go through all the differentials and grieve the life I once had (I was active, healthy, a top performer at a big four consulting company in a senior role) has pretty much broken me. And I probably need something to help get past the fear, anxiety, grief, etc that comes with constant pain and a possible chronic diagnosis (in addition to the usual therapy and lifestyle stuff).
The only gotcha is I just can’t seem to tolerate any SSRIs or SNRIs. I can tolerate a very low dose of the tricyclics but I feel like maybe the impact on norepinephrine makes me too anxious or jittery.
But I’ve noticed even supplements that seem to act on serotonin are ones that I don’t tolerate well.
Another thing I’ve noticed is that I do well (in terms of at least not having bad side effects even though symptoms persist) on meds that act on different gaba receptors. Because of IC, I’ve tried a ton of different things like lyrica, baclofen, vaginal Valium, etc. And the weird thing is, I can barely feel them at the doses I guess most people respond to? Like I can take baclofen, vaginal Valium, and lyrica and literally not notice any change in my anxiety or mood or cognition. I don’t feel sleepy or high or anything.
So I guess I’m wondering if:
1) are there really people that just don’t do well with SSRIs or is it just finding the right one or dose or combo of meds to add on?
2) does my response to gaba-related meds suggest that maybe that is what my body needs or would do better with? My psychiatrist did say my body is stuck in fight or flight and might have adjustment disorder so he put me on a low dose of Ativan (I don’t take lyrica or vaginal Valium anymore) after trying alot of other things. But again, literally don’t feel a difference and obviously I’m very reluctant to up the dosage because I know how they work and know they aren’t viable long term since you habituate. But then I wonder if maybe there is small subset of patients where gaba meds are the answer? I have a very long and deep history of alcoholism on both sides of the family (my parents are the only ones that broke the generational pattern and I don’t drink because of this bladder condition) so perhaps there is some genetic predisposition?
Just curious what you have seen?
submitted by mackenzietennis to AskPsychiatry [link] [comments]
Anyway the only reason I bring this up is because this whole process of trying to find relief and go through all the differentials and grieve the life I once had (I was active, healthy, a top performer at a big four consulting company in a senior role) has pretty much broken me. And I probably need something to help get past the fear, anxiety, grief, etc that comes with constant pain and a possible chronic diagnosis (in addition to the usual therapy and lifestyle stuff).
The only gotcha is I just can’t seem to tolerate any SSRIs or SNRIs. I can tolerate a very low dose of the tricyclics but I feel like maybe the impact on norepinephrine makes me too anxious or jittery.
But I’ve noticed even supplements that seem to act on serotonin are ones that I don’t tolerate well.
Another thing I’ve noticed is that I do well (in terms of at least not having bad side effects even though symptoms persist) on meds that act on different gaba receptors. Because of IC, I’ve tried a ton of different things like lyrica, baclofen, vaginal Valium, etc. And the weird thing is, I can barely feel them at the doses I guess most people respond to? Like I can take baclofen, vaginal Valium, and lyrica and literally not notice any change in my anxiety or mood or cognition. I don’t feel sleepy or high or anything.
So I guess I’m wondering if:
1) are there really people that just don’t do well with SSRIs or is it just finding the right one or dose or combo of meds to add on?
2) does my response to gaba-related meds suggest that maybe that is what my body needs or would do better with? My psychiatrist did say my body is stuck in fight or flight and might have adjustment disorder so he put me on a low dose of Ativan (I don’t take lyrica or vaginal Valium anymore) after trying alot of other things. But again, literally don’t feel a difference and obviously I’m very reluctant to up the dosage because I know how they work and know they aren’t viable long term since you habituate. But then I wonder if maybe there is small subset of patients where gaba meds are the answer? I have a very long and deep history of alcoholism on both sides of the family (my parents are the only ones that broke the generational pattern and I don’t drink because of this bladder condition) so perhaps there is some genetic predisposition?
Just curious what you have seen?
2023.05.29 16:56 bimbo_wannabe_ [I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 6: On The Organizational Habits of Unrested Spirits and The Taste of Demon's Blood, Part 1.
![[I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 6: On The Organizational Habits of Unrested Spirits and The Taste of Demon's Blood, Part 1.](https://preview.redd.it/8u7ykhosst2b1.jpg?width=640&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=5b744f64a6da09632ac427471bc1cbaa47eb9911 "[I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 6: On The Organizational Habits of Unrested Spirits and The Taste of Demon's Blood, Part 1.") | Previous Part: https://www.reddit.com/redditserials/comments/13trg6g/i_accidentally_joined_the_mafia_in_south_brooklyn/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button submitted by bimbo_wannabe_ to redditserials [link] [comments] Becca invited me to her apartment when we made it back, sent me through the alley behind the building to keep the prying eyes at the minimum. That was fine with me as I was a lot more noticeable than I liked to be, at the moment. I had already lit a cigarette by the time she opened the back door of the stairwell to let me in. It was the last in the pack, and I'd only opened it this morning. The temperature on my phone screen had finally hit zero. "You're gonna have to give me a second, B, I don't wanna smoke around you in your condition but I really need one." She gave me another watery grin. "Little too much blood in the nicotine system, huh?" "Exactly, my young friend, exactly that." She propped the door open and sat herself down on the ground. I could tell the high heels were starting to hurt her because she kicked them off and set them neatly to the side, though I knew the concrete had to be freezing her feet off. She tucked her skirt between her legs and sat with her back against the wall, her elbow propped on her bent knee, the other leg stretched out straight before her. It was exactly how what was left of Antoni had been sitting beside me less than two hours ago. I was getting a little tired of all the patterns appearing in my life these days. I flipped to my news app, as was my habit. There was an article at the top of page about the preparations the SDNY were making to get ready for the coming storm, but frankly I didn't really give a fuck so I just kept scrolling. "Your old neighborhood is in the news, B." "You ain't had enough bad news?" Beccs asked with a rueful laugh. "Eh, I like to stay abreast of current events. I mean, you got me pegged, B. I'm a nosy fuck. But, uh, fifteen years on the inside, you learn that it pays to pay attention to the shit other people don't notice, cause you never know when the information you pick up is going to end up being the information you need." She gave me a look that said she had to yield to my point. "So what's the news from Koreatown?". "Somebody shot a wedding up, apparently. Says seven were killed, including the bride and groom and the bride's father, as they was leaving the reception. You know, most of these names are Rhees. Ain't nobody you know, is it? Kinda feel like you've had enough death for the day, kid." There was another look on her face, one I couldn't quite read even with all my people-watching prowess. "Lemme take a wild stab at it. Two of those names are Rhee Seong-Min and Rhee Bong-Cha." "Yeah," I nodded. "You do know 'em. I'm sorry, B." She gave a low, almost rumbling, chuckle. It gave me a little shiver, not from the cold, and not one of enjoyment, either. She flashed a sign, one I'd seen her flash before, but it wasn't from any gang I knew personally, and lacking any official affiliation of my own, I'd dealt with my fair share of different gang members in the Upstate Correctional Facility. Double E's, one backwards, one forwards, three quick shakes of each hand. "God bless old K-town. But you ain't got to worry about it. I'll not shed a tear over any of them. They's family, but they ain't exactly family, you know. I might tell you about it one day." The last sentence had a note of finality to it, so I didn't ask any further questions in that regard, but I was still as curious as always. "If all your family has Korean names, how the hell did you end up as Rebecca and your Dad as Sam?" "My Dad's name is Park Kyung-Sam. Just Sam was easier to tell people and he, uh, he wanted me to have the same benefit of blending in in American society, and he liked the name Rebecca. So, Rhee Rebecca Hyo-Jin. My Mom's name was Rhee Chung-Cha, but everybody just called her ChaCha, like from Grease." "So your Mom was the Rhee?" She made an affirmative noise and nodded. "She didn't exactly wanna give up her family name, and… my Dad didn't exactly give a fuck cause he was in love with her crazy ass. You know, that's where I get this from. Except my Moms, if she was still around she'd make me look like I grew up to be a calm, quiet girl." I'd hate to see what was worse than Beccs. "You done?" Becca asked. I nodded, tossed my cigarette into the sand-filled bucket we kept here for just that purpose. I followed B inside and we climbed the stairs to the third floor. I leaned against the wall as she pulled a ring of keys from her coat pocket and waited while she unlocked the knob and the three deadbolts on her door. "Pretty serious about your home security, B?" She shot me a look but didn't say anything as she opened the door. A steady beeping greeted us, and Becca stopped just inside and punched in a code on a security panel. As I stepped around her and entered the apartment, I understood why. Do you know that part in Coming To America where Akeem comes home to his dilapidated Queens apartment and realizes Semmi has filled it with expensive furniture? Well, it was exactly like that. Becca locked the door back behind her, threw her stilettos onto the shoe rack, and hung her coat on the brass tree beside it. I did the same, removed my boots to place them on the rack as well. "Jesus Christ, B, this place looks amazing." There was a gray suede sectional in the center of the living room, a 152 inch Panasonic plasma bolted to the wall. The coffee table, the wool Oriental rug beneath it, and the end tables looked antique, as well as the green velvet chaise set near one window. There were three ornately-carved bookcases set against the far wall between the two windows facing the street, one filled with DVDs, and on the other two almost all the books were old and leather bound. The kitchen was open to the room, separated by a butcher block bar from the living room, all matching stainless steel appliances and black marble countertops. All along the walls were family pictures dotted between massive paintings held in golden Baroque style frames. They were… stunning was the only word I could think to describe them. Most of them were portraits done in a slightly impressionist style, impasto if my memory served me, seemingly random strokes of thick paint that somehow managed to form the perfect images of faces and a few nudes. "Jesus Christ, these paintings must have cost a fortune alone." Becca stepped beside me, her arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed the painting I was looking at. It was done in mostly black and red, the image of a sleeping nude man, one arm tucked behind his head, his other draped across his stomach, his hips and legs covered with a sheet. If I touched it, I could have felt the wrinkles in the bunched fabric. There was something oddly familiar about it. "They didn't cost shit," she answered. That made me look away from the painting and back to Beccs. "What the hell? Did you rob a gallery?" "No, you mook, I painted them. They didn't cost anything but the price of the canvas and the paint, which, you know, I stole most of that from school." "You painted them," I repeated, looking back. As I looked closer at the canvas, I realized why it was familiar. The sleeping man was our dear friend Antoni Zabrowska. I had mistaken his tattoos for shadows, though I had to admit I had never seen him look quite so relaxed. As I glanced around the room, I realized I recognized many of the paintings. I was able to pick out her father's face, Rossi's, and I realized the model for the two female nudes was none other than Nia Bianchi. There was one of a woman in white with bloody skeletal wings that bore a strong resemblance to Becca and I imagined that was the infamous ChaCha. "That's what I go to Columbia for. Visual Arts." "You're a goddamn genius, B." She scoffed. "No, I'm fucking serious, kid. My sister collects art, and she refuses to go for the big names. Shit like this, she pays 10 to 20 grand for a painting half this size, more if it's one of the artists she likes." Now she snorted. "What? Your sister got a money tree?" "No, my older sister Aurie's a writer. She wrote her first book when she was ten. She's published 20 so far, but she's got 30 or 40 more in backlog that she's still tweaking. She's kind of a perfectionist when it comes to writing, but I guess it pays off. Her books sell like fucking hotcakes everytime she puts one out, two of her series got picked up by Netflix, and Lion's Gate turned her seventh book into a movie. She even got to be involved in the productions. "She's got a penthouse on the Upper East Side that she bought about six years ago. That's where I lived when I got out of the Upstate. Aurora, she's a fucking Saint, you know. I mean, I had a shitty PO that was up my ass every five minutes but Aurie never said a word about it. She just… always told me she was glad I was home, which, you know, was nice to hear considering that according to my grandparents I died 19 years ago. She was the one that helped me get this place down here, paid in full for a two year lease." Becca raised an eyebrow at me. "No offense, Tony, I can tell you're crazy about her, but she couldn't have picked a better place for you than this hell hole?" I laughed as softly as I could, to save the muscles in my stomach. "I picked this place myself, B. Cheapest apartment I could find in any of the boroughs, and it even had three bedrooms. I was thinking about having space for a library and a home gym." Becca snorted. "Yeah, it's cheap cause the fucking place is about 90 years old. Nobody's been able to get a hold of the slumlord who owns it for repairs in 8 months, but I bet you the motherfucker still collects the rent checks we deposit in his fucking bank account every month." "Yeah, I figured that out just about as soon as I moved in, but beggars can't be choosers. Besides, Antoni always used to help me out whenever something broke." Becca gave a small smile. "They did that for everybody. I used to call them the apartment elves, cause instead of making shoes they were skittering around fixing fucking toilets and sinks, and rewiring burned up outlets and bringing in new refrigerators and stoves when shit broke in everybody else's places. And they bought it all with their own money. Everybody tried to pay them, but they never took a dime for any of it. Ironically enough, Pops used to talk about Antoni all the time because of all the money he'd spend over there every week. Said he had a good heart, just no good sense when it came to what was his responsibility and wasn't. You know, I had my own opinions about Antoni's heart, but I kept them to myself." "I really wish I had paid more attention when Antoni was working on the boiler, though. Instead of just passing him tools and running my mouth." "Yeah, you're good at that," she replied with a smirk. "And fuck you, too, Miss Rebecca. You might be the strong type, but you're not exactly silent yourself." She laughed. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." I nodded and obeyed as she exited into what I saw was the bathroom as she opened the door and closed it behind her. The sectional was goddamned heaven, and she'd said make myself comfortable so I kicked out the recliner and leaned back. I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed, and when I opened them I nearly jumped out of my skin. I barely managed to stop myself from letting out a yell as I jerked back up to sitting. Antoni's corpse was standing by the picture wall, looking intently at a photo of a child Becca wearing a ruffled, cream colored dress with a ribbon in her long black hair. It was the picture of her first Communion. "Goddamn, you can't give somebody a warning before you do that?" He neither answered me nor turned to look at me because he was using the stumps of his wrists to adjust several of the frames back straight again. "Fucking neat freak," I laughed. "She wasn't lying." He finally turned toward me. You ever seen a corpse try to look annoyed when he's missing about a quarter of his face? I mean, what am I saying, you probably haven't, but suffice to say, it's pretty fucking funny. He raised his left wrist, and if he had hands, he'dve been shooting the bird. Almost hysterical laughter burst out of me as Becca exited the bathroom. "Least the pipes ain't frozen yet," she muttered. She gave me a strange look. "Who are you talking to out here? And what's so funny?" I glanced back to Antoni, but he was gone again. "Don't mind me, B, I'm pretty sure I got a concussion. I'm pretty much seeing pink elephants at this point." Or, you know, the mutilated corpse of my best friend, but it's probably best I leave it at elephants. "Yeah," she answered, and crossed the room to hand me something. "Speaking of." It was a mouth guard. "What is this for?" She didn't answer me, but headed to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, withdrawing a cut crystal scotch glass and then opening the refrigerator and withdrawing… two bags of blood. Nia's blood, to be exact. She unscrewed the cap at the bottom of one, punctured the seal with a fresh insulin needle, and to my supreme discomfort squeezed some into the glass. The mouth guard suddenly made sense. It was so I wouldn't break my teeth or bite my tongue off when the convulsions started and my jaw locked down from consuming demon blood. "Oh no, B, I don't want that." "Yeah. That's why I didn't tell you why I wanted you over here, cause I knew you was gonna be a pussy about it." I tried one more last-ditch effort. "You need that more than me, B." "I can just take my next dose early, but you, you can't go down and see Ma looking like that. She's gonna ask too many questions." That one stopped me. "I've had enough of interrogations for one day, B." "There ain't no interrogation when it comes to Ma. She just puts it in your head that you ain't got no choice but to tell her the truth, and you do. She's made state witnesses get up on the stand and confess their own crimes, pleading the fifth be damned." She screwed the cap back onto the bag and carried them and the glass over to the coffee table and set them down. She walked over and opened a closet door, pulling out an IV pole with a little box attached to it, and grabbed a small cardboard box from off a shelf and what looked like a tackle box. She set it on the coffee table after she pulled the pole over to the sectional and plugged it into the wall, opened the cardboard box and removed a cassette from inside and inserted it into the box on the pole. "What's that?" "It's a blood warmer for rapid transfusions, so I don't go into hypothermia or hemolysis. Little bastard cost 137 thousand, but at least you can buy them online. You put a fresh cassette in every time, the blood runs through it, by the time it gets to my arm it's body temp." She opened the tackle box and removed two fresh lines, attaching one to the bottom of the warmer and one to the top, hanging the bags of blood but not connecting the first of them yet. The top had a drip chamber with a filter, and the bottom held the flow regulator and the hypodermic needle with the cannula inside. "You know, it's not fucking fair, B, you shouldn't have dealt with half the shit in your life that you have." She snorted and her lips pursed with anger as she sat down beside me. "You sound like Rossi with that shit. That's why he wouldn't let me die, said it wasn't fair. I was ready to go into hospice, fuck it, I was ready to see my Mom again. But I'll tell you the same thing I told his stupid old ass. Life ain't fair. Cause if it was I'd have my mother and my baby's father and Jimmy's ass would be the one laying in the morgue. You think it's fair you almost lost a finger because of what he ordered?" I laughed. "No, I actually think that's pretty fair. That's karma, B. I was usually the one doing the beating. How do you think I ended up in prison?" She looked hard at me for a moment. "I mean, you never told me. You were pretty open about having gone to prison, but you never said why." "Well, I learned to be open about it. Some people get real upset when they find out they're dealing with someone who's been through the system, so I didn't really wanna go through that again. So now I just tell people up front, let them decide for themselves if they wanna deal with me or not. That way they can't throw it back in my face, say I lied to them." Becca let out a bitter chuckle. "So what's your story?" "Well, we still ain't finished your story, yet, but we'll take a detour. The whole thing started my Senior year of high school. First game of the year, I blew my knee out, big as a bitch, tore everything there was to tear, shit was basically hanging on by the skin alone. Orthopedics said I had two choices, keep playing football or, retain the ability to walk on that leg, so… there went all my big dreams of college ball and making it onto the Giants." "Linebacker?" I nodded. "Middle linebacker. I was good at it. 6'7, 265 pounds but light on my feet, all muscle. Back then I was running 7 percent body fat, and wasn't even trying. Shit just… all came natural to me. It all blew up in my face. Shitloads of surgery and physical therapy, and then one day the pain pills stopped but the pain didn't. Everyday, every night, I was still hurting." She nodded. "I know about bone pain. I could always tell when I needed to up the dose when my bones started hurting. When I started out all it took was an insulin needle. Now I take so much, I'm not even sure I qualify as human. But I guess I won't be much longer. That's always been the plan. Just keep me alive till 30 and Ma's gonna make me like her. That's the preferred age for the Entrance, something to do with the Trinity." I nodded. "I started asking around school if anyone knew where to get some Percs but pain management keeps that shit so tight I could only get a few at a time. Not only was they expensive, it wasn't enough. I got hooked up with this kid named Alessandro, he told me if I really wanted to control the pain, he could get me something better and cheaper. He took me to meet his uncle, Colombian guy named Marco. First shot is free and it was… it was beautiful. Everybody always gets sick the first time, but I didn't. And then after that, all my free money from my after school job started going to horse, and uh, I got my last six months off school. I already had all the credits I needed from AP classes, started working full time. They didn't piss test. But, my tolerance was rising faster than my income was." I took a deep breath. "I'd been buying enough that Marco was offering me fronts but I never took it. So next time I went, I asked him for my usual and I asked how much it would be for two O's on the front, cause I knew a lot of other users and I was thinking of starting to sell myself. So, he told me he'd give me a pound, and we could settle up at the end of the month." "Jesus Christ, if you were selling a pound a month you must have been making bank." I shook my head. "I wasn't in it for the money. I was in it to keep myself supplied. If I kept my prices right, I could use for free, and I had enough left over to pay my portion of the rent and help pay for the groceries. I got good at it, I'd take a shot, and nod out for a few minutes, then get up and start walking the streets." Becca snorted. "You wasn't standing on a street corner?" "Fuck no. Too visible. I did all my business by phone. I had a burner and gave everyone the number, and when they needed some they'd give me a call and I'd meet them or they'd meet me. I had ethics. I used to have people offering me fucking blowjobs for a bag, but I always said no, shit felt wrong. All they had to do was pay me by the end of the month but, sometimes…" She gave a grin. "But sometimes, 'Bitch, where's my money?'" "Yeah, sometimes people would try to skip out, so I had to apply a little pressure to persuade them to pay. I never killed nobody, it's hard as hell to get money out of a dead man. But, black a few eyes and break a few bones and suddenly they had money they didn't before. Being my size, there wasn't many of them that could fight back. But, I fucked up the wrong lowlife. "There was this prick, he'd been dodging me for weeks. He owed me like two grand, I'd given him that much because I knew he had money, so when I finally caught up to him, I was pretty mad and, the bitch, he told me he wasn't going to pay me. Thought he was better than me, thought he could fuck me and get away with it. So I beat the mortal hell out of him, took his wallet. He had five grand in there but I figured, 3K surcharge for wasting my time." I shook my head. "But I should have done some better research on who I was going after. Turned out the little prick had a socialite for a mother and his Daddy was a hedge fund manager and… I'd hurt him pretty bad. First three months, not only was I dealing with DTs, I was waiting to see if they were going to add Murder to my charges. He was in a coma for that long, and when he woke up, he had to learn to walk again, how to feed himself. I beat him so bad I gave him brain damage." "Goddamn, Tony." "Apparently his parents knew their son's habits and knew exactly who I was, cause they went straight to the police, and two days later SWAT showed up, turned the house upside down. I smashed my phone into pieces, flushed it so they couldn't get my contacts, but I didn't think about the fact I still had the wallet with his driver's license in it. My grandparents disowned me, right then and there. I had just reupped so they caught me with 14 ounces, all it takes is 8 for Class A felony possession. I spent 13 months in Rikers, but my sister got me a good lawyer, he knew the judge and the prosecutor personally, golfed with them, so he got me a plea deal. I was looking at life in prison, but he argued that I was a good student that had made a bad mistake because of a chronic pain issue, and they were both first offenses, so if I pled guilty, agreed to go through a substance abuse program and anger management, then they'd give me the minimum sentence. "15 years, Class A Felony Drug Possession, 3 years, Class B felony First Degree Assault, intentionally causing grievous bodily harm while in the commission of another felony. But, at my sentencing, the judge said I was a big guy, with a big anger problem. I hadn't killed anyone, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Said I was a danger to society, so when I got to the UCF, they put me in dark red." "Supermax?" I nodded. "23 hours a day in a box by myself, no visitors, barely saw the guards. But, I stayed quiet, made no problems. Prison was overcrowded so I ended up with a cellmate, and I was glad to see him. It could have been Hannibal Lecter and I would have gave him a hug. He might have been a murderer but he was actually a decent guy. Him and his crew had knocked over some jewelry stores in Manhattan, last job went bad. He'd killed three cops, so he wasn't never getting out. Neither was his wife. Life in Bedford Hills." "That's where they was gonna send me if Ma hadn't got the jury to give me a Not Guilty verdict." I knew Becca had a tendency to get in trouble because beside the cheerleading pictures in the bodega, there was also a mugshot. "What did you do?" She gave a bitter chuckle again. "Unlike you, I killed someone. 2021, this fucking crackhead tried to rob the store. He shot the customer that was in there, old guy named Mickey, killed him. He used to live in your apartment. Tried to shoot me, too, but the gun jammed and I had the aluminum baseball bat under the counter. I just started swinging. He went down, but I jumped the counter, and hit him again. Blood lust is a real thing. Once I saw he was bleeding, I wanted to see more. I beat his brains out, literally, he was dead long before the cops ever got there. Bat looked like a toothpick when I was done. "They arrested me, and the DA himself showed up at my arraignment. Said self defense didn't apply, sent me straight up to Murder 2, requested I be denied bail because I had a passport and plenty of money so I was a flight risk. But we all knew the truth. He was still pissed that he hadn't been able to send Rossi away for longer, and I was the next best thing. Ma had to pull a lot of strings to make sure I still got my transfusions when I was in lockup. I was in Rikers for four months, had my eighteenth birthday sitting in the Singer Unit." "Goddamned patterns," I muttered, then raised my voice again. "You, me, and Antoni all got that in common, except he wasn't like us. He was already in prison. That's what the rose meant, turned eighteen in prison. Life sentence, triple murder." "He told you that?" She looked betrayed, so I was quick to answer. "No, the tattoos told me that. Google is my best friend, B. That's what the skull and crossbones, and the coffins on his arm meant." She swallowed, and nodded again. "But, I moved down," I continued. "Went to orange when they moved me to Gen Pop, and I had friends waiting for me. Marco was very appreciative of me keeping quiet about my source at trial, so outside Abuela Bogota's was where I hung out the most. But I had friends all over. My sister was smart. She always put way more in my account than I could spend, so whenever I heard that somebody needed something, I'd go to the canteen and buy it myself and pass it to 'em. Nobody had to owe me shit. All I wanted was to be left alone, so I had people watching my back from all sides. I ended up in blue, got moved to the dormitory, started working in the kitchen, ended up running it, cause I was a 'model prisoner.'" "You ever fool around with any of your cellmates?" Becca asked with a grin. "Cause I did." I gave an uncomfortable laugh. "I mean, yeah. 15 years is a long time to be alone. I don't consider myself bisexual even, but if somebody offers, you know…" I shrugged. "I think the word you're looking for is heteroflexible. That's how Antoni referred to himself. He had a thing for you, you know." That stopped me dead. "You're fucking with me, B." "Nope. He asked me once if I'd mind if he ever got the chance to hook up with you, and I told him no, as long as he didn't mind I still hooked up with my old girlfriends from high school. But he never asked you, said he loved you too much, was afraid of ruining your friendship." "Jesus Christ," I shook my head, finally decided I needed time to process that, and moved on. "But, my last year there, Covid hit, and, I volunteered to work in the infirmary, but pretty soon the infirmary was filled, they started keeping people in the hallway, and finally they just ended up leaving them in their beds, I was all over the place. People dropping like flies. Everytime someone coughed or sneezed, everbody'd get nervous. I been smoking since I was 16, so I cough my lungs out every morning. "People was looking at me like I was Death Incarnate. But I never caught it, not even once. And I was all around the sick, I was taking the bodies out to the truck outside the gate. Could've run but I didn't. Only had a few years left. It worked in my favor. They cut the last three years off my sentence, put me on supervised release and now, here I am, 36 years old, and just starting my adult life." "Rossi got let out of lockup right before lockdown, poor bastard. Me, him, and my Dad all quarantined at Ma's, but of course, you know, me and Dad was essential workers so at least I got to get out of the house everyday. I graduated early, at 16, been working seven days a week since." I glanced at the glass on the table. "So let's get back to your story." She shook her head, lips pursed again. "Uh-uh, you're not wasting anymore time. Take the blood, but first," she reached out, quicker than I could even register, and used her thumbs to set my broken nose back straight. I let out a yell, momentarily unable to see as my eyes filled with tears. "Jesus wept, Becca, fucking hell, goddamn." "Sorry. It would've hurt more if you'd known it was coming. Besides, you're a good looking guy, Tony, you don't wanna ruin your face." "Thanks, B," I muttered as I pressed the toilet paper back to my freshly bleeding nose, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Need a haircut though." "Nah, you oughta keep it. It's very The Dark Knight Joker, just black, not blonde and green." I laughed quietly. "Not sure that's the best association, B. A little too psychotic and violent." She raised an eyebrow at me. "Alright, alright. It's probably an accurate association, just a little less arson and murder." I sighed and looked at the scotch glass. "So how do I do this, B?" "Think about it like a tequila shot. Take the shot and then slip the guard in quick. Then sit back, try to relax." I nodded and grabbed the glass before I lost my nerve. I raised it in her direction. "Saluti." "Geonbae." She responded. |
2023.05.29 16:56 girl_from_the_crypt Stuck on earth and looking for a job: There's something in the caves
I spent the remainder of the evening after the "hike" sorting out my thoughts. Trying to, at any rate. Writing it all down helped, but I was still exhausted and confused.
I woke up in Frankie Preston's bed the following morning. I instantly knew it wasn't mine due to the lack of Dorito crumbs in the sheets. Even so, it took me a while to come to. Once I'd rubbed my eyes and untangled myself from the blanket, I found the man himself sitting upright beside me, fully dressed with his shoes on, presently reading a book. "Morning, Sunshine," he muttered, not looking up. "There's water on the nightstand for you. A muffin, too. I wasn't sure what to get."
I let out an incoherent murmur to which he huffed a laugh and rested his hand on the side of my face. "You were still as a rock, you know."
"I'm sorry for messing up last night," I said, my voice cracked and dry from sleep. "I shouldn't have gone looking for trouble. I should've stayed low and just watched those two."
"What's with that tone? I'm not about to lecture you. I get wanting to take revenge. You did fine as far as I'm concerned. And I think Markov is okay with everything, too. After all, any proceedings against the Collective are highly legitimate now or whatever. Plus, she got that lady cultist in custody now, and she's looking forward to the interrogation. She called and explained it to me on the phone earlier, but I wasn't paying attention." He shrugged to himself and I reached up to tug aside his book's cover. "It's Wuthering Heights," he told me, gently removing my hand. I tried to grab it again, but he pulled it out of my reach. "Oh!" He sounded amused as he finally set the book aside to hug me. "You could have just said something."
"Don't you have to work today?"
"I called in sick. Of course, my six moms know I don't actually get sick so they'll suspect something's up. They're probably gonna be all over me."
"You never get sick?" I inquired.
"No. It's one of the nicer aspects of inhuman nature."
"I'm still not getting any answers on that?"
"Don't worry, you will. Sooner or later."
We went out and took a walk in the park, which was equally weird and nice. It seemed such a normal thing to do. It was a bright, nearly windless day, and the sun shining down on us provided a gentle warmth. The previous days' rain had left the trees heavily laden with drops of water. Occasionally, some would dislodge from the leaves and branches they occupied and plop down on our heads.
I asked Frankie whether he would be alright with checking in on Nettie Peterson together. He chuckled, joking that she would probably just love to see him, but ultimately agreed. Once my best friend was due to be off work, we went around to her house.
Strangely enough, the most drastic changes in other people seem to happen without me really being there to witness them. Kit Sutton had somehow turned into a somewhat responsible roommate without me even noticing. Before I knew it, we had become friends. When my savior human opened the door for us, I felt distinctly reminded of that other development. Nettie, not unlike a butterfly emerging from whatever they call that odd little sleeping bag caterpillars make for themselves, had apparently come out of her dark state of mind all by herself. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and she wheedled us inside with much the same enthusiasm I was used to. She had us sit down in the garden while she tended to her flowers.
I watched her closely. Her skin had regained much of its healthy glow, her hair was washed and shiny, the clothes she wore clean—a flowing blouse, mom jeans and sneakers. She had clearly picked them out with care, like she normally did. It was good to see her restored to her old self, but I couldn't help but feel like something was wrong.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.
"I have to be, don't I?" she replied, her cheerful tone coming out more forced than she'd likely intended. She was cutting away crushed and wilted leaves from one of her small bushes, shaping it in the process. "It's over. Life goes on."
"Does it?" I tilted my head at her.
"Can we talk about anything else? Literally anything?" The snapping movements of her garden shears came faster; more forceful. Frankie Preston and I exchanged uncomfortable looks. Figuring it would make for an interesting topic, I proceeded to tell Nettie about our exploits the night before. Halfway through my story, she had ceased her plant styling activities, blankly staring at me from where she sat on the ground. By the time I was done, she had taken off her rubber gloves and was slowly massaging her temples.
"One of these days, Eva. One of these days, you're gonna give me a heart attack. I don't even want to ask about what you get up to anymore, I think. I'm afraid of the answer." She threw Fran a grateful glance. "Thank you for getting her out of there safely."
The waiter smiled placidly. "Sure." Turning to me, he added in a whisper, "So we're not going to mention that you saved me from the FunFlair guys twice before this?"
I grinned mildly and shook my head before assuming a more serious tone. "Nettie, it's great that you're all better, but you were really down before. If this is just an act, I'd prefer you didn't put it on."
"It's not an act," she said sternly, raising her hands to her hips. "I've resigned myself. That's all. There's nothing to be done, I've accepted it and I've moved on."
"That can't be healthy," Frankie remarked. "You know what would help? Punishing the world in some way. You could take it out on your kindergarteners. Tell them a scary story so their parents have to stay up all night with them. Incite a dirt throwing fight and send them home all muddy. Set up a boxing ring and have them go at each other like in a dog fight. Wouldn't that be far more rewarding than sucking it up?"
Nettie Peterson looked unimpressed. Her dark eyes roamed the young man like she was trying to gauge whether or not he was serious. "You're some kind of sociopath, aren't you?"
That she shouldn't have said. Frankie's serene expression morphed into his customer service smile. I don't know when I started deciphering this being's voice and countenance, but there I was, picking up on the spiteful undertone in what he said next.
"I'm just saying, if the woman I fancied disappeared in such a way, I'd find outlets for my grief." His eyes darted over to Nettie as if to ensure she'd heard him correctly before settling on me, observing my reaction. All I could do however was stare at my best friend.
Her glossy lips had parted. She met my gaze, her thick, expressive brows rising a good deal. "I…" she began, faltering and starting to fumble for words. "That's to say, Kit was… we, um…"
"Oh, Eva didn't know?" Frankie asked, perfectly flat and monotonous. "I had no idea it was a secret. I'm sorry, it wasn't my place to say. I wouldn't have mentioned it, really."
Something about that sent a chill down my spine. I shot him a glare, to which he drew himself up and turned away. Meanwhile, Nettie finally broke from her stupor and blurted out, "We were together, okay?"
For a moment, I sat quietly. “Frank, please go home,” I said at length, not quite looking at him. “We’ll talk later. We will.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but quickly thought better of it, rising to his feet and storming off. Ignoring the queasy feeling in my stomach, I walked over to Nettie and plopped down on the ground beside her. “So that’s what this was about,” I began.
My savior human nodded meekly. “We… we didn’t want to tell you. Not for the time being, at least. We hadn’t defined the relationship yet, i-it was all so new and weird, I felt weird, but it was good, you know? I just wasn’t ready to think about it that way yet. And you’ve only ever seen me date guys, I didn’t know what you’d think…”
“I wouldn’t have thought anything,” I replied. “How long has this been going on?”
“Not long. She called me up before she came back to you a couple weeks ago. That’s kind of when we started seeing each other in… in that way.”
“Romantically?”
“Yes.”
I hesitantly extended a hand to caress her upper arm, locking eyes with her. There was a profound sadness in her expression, a watery gleam. She took a deep breath. “Before that, we used to text back and forth occasionally. I always felt kind of weird about her. Somehow, she got under my skin everytime she was goofing off, what with her little jokes and all. We kept talking, though. I was always so irritated when she was around, and that’s so unlike me, I just ended up wondering… And then when she showed up here, it all kind of came together. W-we did. She stuck around and we spoke and everything simply made sense all of a sudden. I didn't know she liked me, too.” She swallowed audibly, her voice brittle and husky as she went on. “Kit isn't like anyone else I’ve ever had feelings for.”
“Not like anyone else, as in… a woman?” I prompted, raising a brow.
Nettie grunted. “Oh, shush! Don't make me feel guilty for being hesitant at first. I know it’s not a big deal to you, but try going through life believing you’re straight and suddenly running into some cute ditzy punk girl and realizing you’re not. It’s all sorts of confusing, believe me. I was scared it was gonna be weird because it was my first time with a woman but Kit somehow made it easy. It was a bit of a whirlwind, sure, but it felt natural and… just good.”
“Did you tell Eli?”
“No. But I think he suspected. That man knows me like the back of his hand. We’re basically siblings, remember? He was always tactful, never really pressured me into admitting anything, but he made a couple puns here and there, so… I do believe he knew.” She fumbled with her limp gloves, fixing me with a wavering smile. “So?”
“So what?”
“What do you say?”
“Is there something you want me to say?” I shrugged. “I’m only glad I understand now. I wish you’d told me sooner, but that’s your business. Also, I didn’t tell you that I’ve been running around with our waiter, so I guess we’re essentially even. By the way, I’m sorry he put you on the spot like that. You didn’t deserve that. How did he know about you two anyways?”
Nettie pursed her lips. “He might have seen us around the diner or something. I’m not sure. I’m, uh, not gonna comment on whatever you two got going on. You know what you’re doing. Hopefully.”
“Ah, thanks. Then I won’t be giving my opinion on whether or not I consider that deadbeat dork Kit to be worthy of you.”
My savior human snorted. “Much appreciated. Though I guess it’s not really an issue anymore either way.”
I shook my head. “Don’t think like that. We can’t let her go. I certainly won’t, not after this.”
“What do you mean?”
I rose to my feet. “I’m going to drag her blue ass back out of the ocean and have her make an honorable woman of you.”
I don’t believe she thought I was serious. The realization had set in by the time I’d dragged her down to the beach with me, though. We had taken Wammawink for the drive. Wammawink is the name of Nettie’s pastel pink motor scooter. It has a sidecar, which she straps me into with great care whenever we ride. It took her about twenty minutes to get us down to the shore. The more I talked about possibly retrieving my roommate, the brighter and realer the shine in her eyes became. Hope was not yet dead, that much was for certain. I led her down the cliffside and past the rocky expanse to where the concert had been held. It seemed ages ago. Some wistful part of me thought I could hear the faint sound of Kits singing above the gentle murmur of the waves.
The beach was golden in the afternoon sunlight. The sleepy tide sent water steadily dribbling into the sand beneath our feet, the drier patches giving way ever so slightly as we walked along. The faint outline of a plan had taken shape in my mind. We headed for the grotto.
"It makes sense now," I thought aloud. "The creature we fought at the concert was targeting you. The deep ones must have known that you two had a bond."
"I guess so," she replied uncertainly, eyeing the maw that opened up in the natural stone wall before us. "Going spelunking will help us how, exactly…?"
"I figure it tried to take you in there for a reason. This place has to be special. If you want, you can always wait here, but I'd prefer to have you with me. I only want to look around a bit. Maybe there's a clue of sorts on how we can contact Kit."
She sighed. "Now I know why you wanted me to bring my flashlight." She produced the object in question and handed it over before linking arms with me. "Of course I'll stick with you."
The inside of the cave was far too quiet for comfort. The eerie silence was only broken by the occasional plinking of water dripping from the walls and ceiling. We made an effort to step around the puddles glittering on the bumpy ground as we proceeded into the dimness. The sunlight threading through the grotto's mouth didn't reach very far, so we were glad for the bright beam of our torch. I let it travel the hollowed rock, the light crinkling oddly as it reflected off the pools of water that seemed to grow larger the further we got. Nettie Peterson was hanging onto my arm, her grip growing a little tighter with every passing minute. Her face was a set mask of grim determination, belied by the nervous twitch of her eyelid and the occasional quiver of her lower lip.
My own discomfort was undeniable as well. My heart was thundering in my chest and clammy beads of perspiration were running down my face. Every step we took caused a dull thud, the echo of which bounced off the rough stone walls to be funneled by the length of the cave. There were several smaller passages leading off into all directions, but Nettie and I agreed on always picking the largest entrance. This way, the path we took was far easier to memorize and there was little possibility of getting lost. After the third or fourth time we ducked through one of the doorframe-like archs, we were met with an imposing sight. A large room with high ceilings opened up before us. There was natural light seeping through several small cracks overhead. Stringy, pale plant life hung down or clung to the walls. A round lake filled up its entire bottom half.
Both Nettie and I stopped in our tracks. There was no solid ground to walk on anymore. On top of that, the beauty of this subterranean body of water had literally stunned us. Ripples were rolling off the center of its surface, casting a faint shimmer onto the ceiling. The stone-filtered light from outside set the lake aglow, bright speckled dancing across it like sprightly wisps. All I could do was taken in a soft, reverent breath while the very thoughts running through my head escaped Nettie's trembling lips.
"Have you ever seen something so beautiful?"
I would have told her yes, but I truly could not remember when. Unfortunately, the lake also appeared to form something of a dead end. I considered turning and checking out another passage, only for my savior human to point out a ledge running along the side of the room. It was narrow, but no doubt wide enough for the two of us to walk it single-file. We clambered up the shelf-like protrusion and, hand in hand, began to move along. It was bumpy and wet, and I almost regretted continuing this way. I couldn't seem to properly place my feet, my soles slipping a few inches with every step. Glancing over my shoulder, I could tell from Nettie's grim expression that she was experiencing similar difficulties. My pulse was racing, my lower lip caught between my teeth as I attempted to focus on safely making it across.
The cold sweat that leaves my palms was actively working against me at this point, and before I could react, the flashlight had slipped through my shaking fingers. It bounced off a bump in the shelf, then rolled off the edge entirely to disappear in the dark water with a thick, loud plop. I cursed, turning to Nettie with an apologetic expression.
"It's fine," she assured me, squeezing my hand. "It's bright enough here as it is and we'll still have our phones for light later."
I smiled gratefully, about to take my next step when a deep, guttural gurgle came rumbling up from the depths of the lake. The sound hovered in the damp, salty air for a moment or two. My best friend and I froze in place, her grip on my hand turning into an iron vice. For a split second, I believe even my own heartbeat stilled.
"What was that?" Nettie Peterson whispered, her voice barely audible over the sudden charged hum of the water below. Her question would not remain unanswered for long. The droning noise of vast water masses shifting began to fill the air as from deep, deep beneath, something made its way up. My savior human and I helplessly pressed our backs up against the wall, trying to keep steady against the force of the vibration shuddering through the rock. The ledge we were standing on was quaking as though the cave itself had come alive and was trying to throw us into this growling, cold abyss.
Within seconds, the thing broke the surface, causing enormous splashes and sending countless drops of water raining down on us. I blinked them out of my eyes just in time to see it unfurl.
It was not a living being in its entirety, merely part of one. That however only made the sight before us all the more terrifying. Simply put, it was a human arm. Just not of any human I had ever encountered. It was enormous; every webbed finger of the hand it ended in was about my size. There were six of them, each bending in far too many places—I thought I could count as many as eight joints on the longest one. Its nails were more like claws, long and sharp with what looked like barnacles growing underneath them. The thin, nearly translucent skin between its fingers was stony gray, just like the rest of it. The hand slowly began to grope around, searching the walls of the cave. I knew right then and there that I couldn't possibly fight it. If it came to it, I'd try to hold it off with everything I had, but something this huge couldn't possibly be defeated. We had to flee, as long as we still could.
"Oh God," Nettie breathed. "Oh God, oh God, oh God…" Her hand was trembling in mine.
"Quick," I hissed. "Turn around, we gotta get out of here!"
She nodded helplessly, her eyes blown wide in terror. When she began her retreat from the ledge, she nearly took up running. I pulled her close just in time to prevent her from slipping. "Watch out!" I uttered, unable to suppress the fear in my tone. "Don't slip, we're dead if we fall in."
My savior human let out a whine, then took a deep breath and bit her lip. Slowly but steadily, she placed each foot in front of the other, leading us off the ledge. My ears were ringing. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the gigantic arm as it blindly felt along the walls, its nails coaxing a grating sound as they scratched upon the rocks. It was getting closer and closer, the side of its thumb nearly brushing the top of my head for a split second before I could withdraw. I had to press my eyes shut for a moment as my chest tightened painfully. Finally, we had reached the end of the shelf and wasted no time in jumping off.
We didn't even bother with any cell phone flashlights. As soon as we were on solid ground again, we darted through the entrance of the room, back through all of our carefully chosen passages before finally staggering out the mouth of the cave into the sunlight. We were panting like dogs; Nettie was forced to crouch down and sit still for a while to catch her breath. Meanwhile, I was seeing stars. Colorful dots and sparks of lightning seemed to dance before my inner eye as I blinked furiously into the afternoon sun.
"What the fuck was that?" my best friend, having regained her ability to speak, rasped out.
I turned to face her, my knees wobbling like jello. "I have no idea."
"You think it… you think that fish person from the concert was trying to take me there? Dump me into that lake?" She lowered her voice. "It would have fed me to that giant thing, wouldn't it."
I held her gaze, my mind racing. "I don't know. Maybe the giant's different."
"What do you mean?"
"I think we might have just seen Kit's father."
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
submitted by girl_from_the_crypt to nosleep [link] [comments]
I woke up in Frankie Preston's bed the following morning. I instantly knew it wasn't mine due to the lack of Dorito crumbs in the sheets. Even so, it took me a while to come to. Once I'd rubbed my eyes and untangled myself from the blanket, I found the man himself sitting upright beside me, fully dressed with his shoes on, presently reading a book. "Morning, Sunshine," he muttered, not looking up. "There's water on the nightstand for you. A muffin, too. I wasn't sure what to get."
I let out an incoherent murmur to which he huffed a laugh and rested his hand on the side of my face. "You were still as a rock, you know."
"I'm sorry for messing up last night," I said, my voice cracked and dry from sleep. "I shouldn't have gone looking for trouble. I should've stayed low and just watched those two."
"What's with that tone? I'm not about to lecture you. I get wanting to take revenge. You did fine as far as I'm concerned. And I think Markov is okay with everything, too. After all, any proceedings against the Collective are highly legitimate now or whatever. Plus, she got that lady cultist in custody now, and she's looking forward to the interrogation. She called and explained it to me on the phone earlier, but I wasn't paying attention." He shrugged to himself and I reached up to tug aside his book's cover. "It's Wuthering Heights," he told me, gently removing my hand. I tried to grab it again, but he pulled it out of my reach. "Oh!" He sounded amused as he finally set the book aside to hug me. "You could have just said something."
"Don't you have to work today?"
"I called in sick. Of course, my six moms know I don't actually get sick so they'll suspect something's up. They're probably gonna be all over me."
"You never get sick?" I inquired.
"No. It's one of the nicer aspects of inhuman nature."
"I'm still not getting any answers on that?"
"Don't worry, you will. Sooner or later."
We went out and took a walk in the park, which was equally weird and nice. It seemed such a normal thing to do. It was a bright, nearly windless day, and the sun shining down on us provided a gentle warmth. The previous days' rain had left the trees heavily laden with drops of water. Occasionally, some would dislodge from the leaves and branches they occupied and plop down on our heads.
I asked Frankie whether he would be alright with checking in on Nettie Peterson together. He chuckled, joking that she would probably just love to see him, but ultimately agreed. Once my best friend was due to be off work, we went around to her house.
Strangely enough, the most drastic changes in other people seem to happen without me really being there to witness them. Kit Sutton had somehow turned into a somewhat responsible roommate without me even noticing. Before I knew it, we had become friends. When my savior human opened the door for us, I felt distinctly reminded of that other development. Nettie, not unlike a butterfly emerging from whatever they call that odd little sleeping bag caterpillars make for themselves, had apparently come out of her dark state of mind all by herself. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and she wheedled us inside with much the same enthusiasm I was used to. She had us sit down in the garden while she tended to her flowers.
I watched her closely. Her skin had regained much of its healthy glow, her hair was washed and shiny, the clothes she wore clean—a flowing blouse, mom jeans and sneakers. She had clearly picked them out with care, like she normally did. It was good to see her restored to her old self, but I couldn't help but feel like something was wrong.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.
"I have to be, don't I?" she replied, her cheerful tone coming out more forced than she'd likely intended. She was cutting away crushed and wilted leaves from one of her small bushes, shaping it in the process. "It's over. Life goes on."
"Does it?" I tilted my head at her.
"Can we talk about anything else? Literally anything?" The snapping movements of her garden shears came faster; more forceful. Frankie Preston and I exchanged uncomfortable looks. Figuring it would make for an interesting topic, I proceeded to tell Nettie about our exploits the night before. Halfway through my story, she had ceased her plant styling activities, blankly staring at me from where she sat on the ground. By the time I was done, she had taken off her rubber gloves and was slowly massaging her temples.
"One of these days, Eva. One of these days, you're gonna give me a heart attack. I don't even want to ask about what you get up to anymore, I think. I'm afraid of the answer." She threw Fran a grateful glance. "Thank you for getting her out of there safely."
The waiter smiled placidly. "Sure." Turning to me, he added in a whisper, "So we're not going to mention that you saved me from the FunFlair guys twice before this?"
I grinned mildly and shook my head before assuming a more serious tone. "Nettie, it's great that you're all better, but you were really down before. If this is just an act, I'd prefer you didn't put it on."
"It's not an act," she said sternly, raising her hands to her hips. "I've resigned myself. That's all. There's nothing to be done, I've accepted it and I've moved on."
"That can't be healthy," Frankie remarked. "You know what would help? Punishing the world in some way. You could take it out on your kindergarteners. Tell them a scary story so their parents have to stay up all night with them. Incite a dirt throwing fight and send them home all muddy. Set up a boxing ring and have them go at each other like in a dog fight. Wouldn't that be far more rewarding than sucking it up?"
Nettie Peterson looked unimpressed. Her dark eyes roamed the young man like she was trying to gauge whether or not he was serious. "You're some kind of sociopath, aren't you?"
That she shouldn't have said. Frankie's serene expression morphed into his customer service smile. I don't know when I started deciphering this being's voice and countenance, but there I was, picking up on the spiteful undertone in what he said next.
"I'm just saying, if the woman I fancied disappeared in such a way, I'd find outlets for my grief." His eyes darted over to Nettie as if to ensure she'd heard him correctly before settling on me, observing my reaction. All I could do however was stare at my best friend.
Her glossy lips had parted. She met my gaze, her thick, expressive brows rising a good deal. "I…" she began, faltering and starting to fumble for words. "That's to say, Kit was… we, um…"
"Oh, Eva didn't know?" Frankie asked, perfectly flat and monotonous. "I had no idea it was a secret. I'm sorry, it wasn't my place to say. I wouldn't have mentioned it, really."
Something about that sent a chill down my spine. I shot him a glare, to which he drew himself up and turned away. Meanwhile, Nettie finally broke from her stupor and blurted out, "We were together, okay?"
For a moment, I sat quietly. “Frank, please go home,” I said at length, not quite looking at him. “We’ll talk later. We will.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but quickly thought better of it, rising to his feet and storming off. Ignoring the queasy feeling in my stomach, I walked over to Nettie and plopped down on the ground beside her. “So that’s what this was about,” I began.
My savior human nodded meekly. “We… we didn’t want to tell you. Not for the time being, at least. We hadn’t defined the relationship yet, i-it was all so new and weird, I felt weird, but it was good, you know? I just wasn’t ready to think about it that way yet. And you’ve only ever seen me date guys, I didn’t know what you’d think…”
“I wouldn’t have thought anything,” I replied. “How long has this been going on?”
“Not long. She called me up before she came back to you a couple weeks ago. That’s kind of when we started seeing each other in… in that way.”
“Romantically?”
“Yes.”
I hesitantly extended a hand to caress her upper arm, locking eyes with her. There was a profound sadness in her expression, a watery gleam. She took a deep breath. “Before that, we used to text back and forth occasionally. I always felt kind of weird about her. Somehow, she got under my skin everytime she was goofing off, what with her little jokes and all. We kept talking, though. I was always so irritated when she was around, and that’s so unlike me, I just ended up wondering… And then when she showed up here, it all kind of came together. W-we did. She stuck around and we spoke and everything simply made sense all of a sudden. I didn't know she liked me, too.” She swallowed audibly, her voice brittle and husky as she went on. “Kit isn't like anyone else I’ve ever had feelings for.”
“Not like anyone else, as in… a woman?” I prompted, raising a brow.
Nettie grunted. “Oh, shush! Don't make me feel guilty for being hesitant at first. I know it’s not a big deal to you, but try going through life believing you’re straight and suddenly running into some cute ditzy punk girl and realizing you’re not. It’s all sorts of confusing, believe me. I was scared it was gonna be weird because it was my first time with a woman but Kit somehow made it easy. It was a bit of a whirlwind, sure, but it felt natural and… just good.”
“Did you tell Eli?”
“No. But I think he suspected. That man knows me like the back of his hand. We’re basically siblings, remember? He was always tactful, never really pressured me into admitting anything, but he made a couple puns here and there, so… I do believe he knew.” She fumbled with her limp gloves, fixing me with a wavering smile. “So?”
“So what?”
“What do you say?”
“Is there something you want me to say?” I shrugged. “I’m only glad I understand now. I wish you’d told me sooner, but that’s your business. Also, I didn’t tell you that I’ve been running around with our waiter, so I guess we’re essentially even. By the way, I’m sorry he put you on the spot like that. You didn’t deserve that. How did he know about you two anyways?”
Nettie pursed her lips. “He might have seen us around the diner or something. I’m not sure. I’m, uh, not gonna comment on whatever you two got going on. You know what you’re doing. Hopefully.”
“Ah, thanks. Then I won’t be giving my opinion on whether or not I consider that deadbeat dork Kit to be worthy of you.”
My savior human snorted. “Much appreciated. Though I guess it’s not really an issue anymore either way.”
I shook my head. “Don’t think like that. We can’t let her go. I certainly won’t, not after this.”
“What do you mean?”
I rose to my feet. “I’m going to drag her blue ass back out of the ocean and have her make an honorable woman of you.”
I don’t believe she thought I was serious. The realization had set in by the time I’d dragged her down to the beach with me, though. We had taken Wammawink for the drive. Wammawink is the name of Nettie’s pastel pink motor scooter. It has a sidecar, which she straps me into with great care whenever we ride. It took her about twenty minutes to get us down to the shore. The more I talked about possibly retrieving my roommate, the brighter and realer the shine in her eyes became. Hope was not yet dead, that much was for certain. I led her down the cliffside and past the rocky expanse to where the concert had been held. It seemed ages ago. Some wistful part of me thought I could hear the faint sound of Kits singing above the gentle murmur of the waves.
The beach was golden in the afternoon sunlight. The sleepy tide sent water steadily dribbling into the sand beneath our feet, the drier patches giving way ever so slightly as we walked along. The faint outline of a plan had taken shape in my mind. We headed for the grotto.
"It makes sense now," I thought aloud. "The creature we fought at the concert was targeting you. The deep ones must have known that you two had a bond."
"I guess so," she replied uncertainly, eyeing the maw that opened up in the natural stone wall before us. "Going spelunking will help us how, exactly…?"
"I figure it tried to take you in there for a reason. This place has to be special. If you want, you can always wait here, but I'd prefer to have you with me. I only want to look around a bit. Maybe there's a clue of sorts on how we can contact Kit."
She sighed. "Now I know why you wanted me to bring my flashlight." She produced the object in question and handed it over before linking arms with me. "Of course I'll stick with you."
The inside of the cave was far too quiet for comfort. The eerie silence was only broken by the occasional plinking of water dripping from the walls and ceiling. We made an effort to step around the puddles glittering on the bumpy ground as we proceeded into the dimness. The sunlight threading through the grotto's mouth didn't reach very far, so we were glad for the bright beam of our torch. I let it travel the hollowed rock, the light crinkling oddly as it reflected off the pools of water that seemed to grow larger the further we got. Nettie Peterson was hanging onto my arm, her grip growing a little tighter with every passing minute. Her face was a set mask of grim determination, belied by the nervous twitch of her eyelid and the occasional quiver of her lower lip.
My own discomfort was undeniable as well. My heart was thundering in my chest and clammy beads of perspiration were running down my face. Every step we took caused a dull thud, the echo of which bounced off the rough stone walls to be funneled by the length of the cave. There were several smaller passages leading off into all directions, but Nettie and I agreed on always picking the largest entrance. This way, the path we took was far easier to memorize and there was little possibility of getting lost. After the third or fourth time we ducked through one of the doorframe-like archs, we were met with an imposing sight. A large room with high ceilings opened up before us. There was natural light seeping through several small cracks overhead. Stringy, pale plant life hung down or clung to the walls. A round lake filled up its entire bottom half.
Both Nettie and I stopped in our tracks. There was no solid ground to walk on anymore. On top of that, the beauty of this subterranean body of water had literally stunned us. Ripples were rolling off the center of its surface, casting a faint shimmer onto the ceiling. The stone-filtered light from outside set the lake aglow, bright speckled dancing across it like sprightly wisps. All I could do was taken in a soft, reverent breath while the very thoughts running through my head escaped Nettie's trembling lips.
"Have you ever seen something so beautiful?"
I would have told her yes, but I truly could not remember when. Unfortunately, the lake also appeared to form something of a dead end. I considered turning and checking out another passage, only for my savior human to point out a ledge running along the side of the room. It was narrow, but no doubt wide enough for the two of us to walk it single-file. We clambered up the shelf-like protrusion and, hand in hand, began to move along. It was bumpy and wet, and I almost regretted continuing this way. I couldn't seem to properly place my feet, my soles slipping a few inches with every step. Glancing over my shoulder, I could tell from Nettie's grim expression that she was experiencing similar difficulties. My pulse was racing, my lower lip caught between my teeth as I attempted to focus on safely making it across.
The cold sweat that leaves my palms was actively working against me at this point, and before I could react, the flashlight had slipped through my shaking fingers. It bounced off a bump in the shelf, then rolled off the edge entirely to disappear in the dark water with a thick, loud plop. I cursed, turning to Nettie with an apologetic expression.
"It's fine," she assured me, squeezing my hand. "It's bright enough here as it is and we'll still have our phones for light later."
I smiled gratefully, about to take my next step when a deep, guttural gurgle came rumbling up from the depths of the lake. The sound hovered in the damp, salty air for a moment or two. My best friend and I froze in place, her grip on my hand turning into an iron vice. For a split second, I believe even my own heartbeat stilled.
"What was that?" Nettie Peterson whispered, her voice barely audible over the sudden charged hum of the water below. Her question would not remain unanswered for long. The droning noise of vast water masses shifting began to fill the air as from deep, deep beneath, something made its way up. My savior human and I helplessly pressed our backs up against the wall, trying to keep steady against the force of the vibration shuddering through the rock. The ledge we were standing on was quaking as though the cave itself had come alive and was trying to throw us into this growling, cold abyss.
Within seconds, the thing broke the surface, causing enormous splashes and sending countless drops of water raining down on us. I blinked them out of my eyes just in time to see it unfurl.
It was not a living being in its entirety, merely part of one. That however only made the sight before us all the more terrifying. Simply put, it was a human arm. Just not of any human I had ever encountered. It was enormous; every webbed finger of the hand it ended in was about my size. There were six of them, each bending in far too many places—I thought I could count as many as eight joints on the longest one. Its nails were more like claws, long and sharp with what looked like barnacles growing underneath them. The thin, nearly translucent skin between its fingers was stony gray, just like the rest of it. The hand slowly began to grope around, searching the walls of the cave. I knew right then and there that I couldn't possibly fight it. If it came to it, I'd try to hold it off with everything I had, but something this huge couldn't possibly be defeated. We had to flee, as long as we still could.
"Oh God," Nettie breathed. "Oh God, oh God, oh God…" Her hand was trembling in mine.
"Quick," I hissed. "Turn around, we gotta get out of here!"
She nodded helplessly, her eyes blown wide in terror. When she began her retreat from the ledge, she nearly took up running. I pulled her close just in time to prevent her from slipping. "Watch out!" I uttered, unable to suppress the fear in my tone. "Don't slip, we're dead if we fall in."
My savior human let out a whine, then took a deep breath and bit her lip. Slowly but steadily, she placed each foot in front of the other, leading us off the ledge. My ears were ringing. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the gigantic arm as it blindly felt along the walls, its nails coaxing a grating sound as they scratched upon the rocks. It was getting closer and closer, the side of its thumb nearly brushing the top of my head for a split second before I could withdraw. I had to press my eyes shut for a moment as my chest tightened painfully. Finally, we had reached the end of the shelf and wasted no time in jumping off.
We didn't even bother with any cell phone flashlights. As soon as we were on solid ground again, we darted through the entrance of the room, back through all of our carefully chosen passages before finally staggering out the mouth of the cave into the sunlight. We were panting like dogs; Nettie was forced to crouch down and sit still for a while to catch her breath. Meanwhile, I was seeing stars. Colorful dots and sparks of lightning seemed to dance before my inner eye as I blinked furiously into the afternoon sun.
"What the fuck was that?" my best friend, having regained her ability to speak, rasped out.
I turned to face her, my knees wobbling like jello. "I have no idea."
"You think it… you think that fish person from the concert was trying to take me there? Dump me into that lake?" She lowered her voice. "It would have fed me to that giant thing, wouldn't it."
I held her gaze, my mind racing. "I don't know. Maybe the giant's different."
"What do you mean?"
"I think we might have just seen Kit's father."
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
2023.05.29 16:53 AutoModerator Todd Valentine - Verbal Academy (The Course)
Chat +447593882116 (Telegram/Whatsapp) to get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy.
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
submitted by AutoModerator to ToddValentineLessons [link] [comments]
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
2023.05.29 16:51 fanficwriter1994 "Champion of Hyrule" Challenge Update
Note: This is an update on my challenge, since I had this idea brought to my attention. It kind of makes sense to me anyway.
You awaken, startled, and find yourself in a strange room with blue water flowing from up high, you standing in the center of a hexagonal platform with six other platforms, adorned each with a different symbol, at each of the points of your platform.
Standing on the platform with the yellow symbol you find a blonde woman who you would recognize to appear much like Princess Zelda from the The Legend of Zelda series, though none of them seem to match her appearance exactly.
"Greetings, traveler from another world." Speaks up the woman, smiling mildly at you. "I am Hylia, goddess of this realm and agent of the GOlden Goddesses who created it. I am sure you wonder how you got here or if this is even real, but I assure you, it is. I have brought you here on recommendation of a certain, impish deity from outside this realm, with a request." Explained Hylia and a lifts a hand to create a ball of light.
"I was granted the ability to host a, as your people call it, Jumpchain, and directed to take you on as a Jumper, as for why I am doing this, well... There hasn't been born a hero in this timeline. Link doesn't exist here." She sighs and shakes her head.
"For that reason, I have called on you, to take the role, so let me get to the actual rules next." She explains.
II. Minish Cap
III. Four Swords
IV. Ocarina of Time
V. Majora's Mask
VI. Twilight Princess
VII. Four Swords Adventures
VIII.1 Adult Timeline/Downfall Timeline your choice
VIII.2 Wind WakeA Link to the Past
VIII.3 Phantom Hourglass/Link's Awakening
VIII.4 Spirit Tracks/Oracle of Ages or Seasons
VIII.5 None/Other Oracle game
VIII.6 None/Oracle of Scenario
VIII.7 None/A Link Between Worlds
VIII.8 None/Zelda 1 Gauntlet
VIII.9 None/Zelda 2
IX. Breath of the Wild (Final of this section of the chain)
II. Wisdom: Grants near limitless magical power, greatly increase intelligence, a x10 multiplier to the speed at which you're learning new information, as well as allowing you to grant your Perks to another person if they agree to it.
III. Courage: Never be frozen in fear, always able to react and act. You also have a strong will, able to withstand incredible hardships, resist attempts to break your will and even resist any and all efforts to possess you. Lastly, no amount of time can rust your blade, your skills will remain as fresh and well oiled as if you had been practicing nonstop for years. Lastly, if you would die for real, another you is born and the plot and your time in a Jump shall not continue until that you is at least 12 years old, which in Zelda terms means they're ready to kick ass and take names.
IV.1 Additionally, the three grant the following spells: Din's Fire: Create a powerful fireblast around you at base, may also be used as Pyrokinesis and heat control.
IV.2 Nayru's Wisdom: Create a bubble shield around you that lasts 3 minutes at base, may also create a panel or large dome shield of up to 50 meters in circumference. Attacks cannot penetrate this shield while it lasts.
IV.3 Farore's Wind: A Teleportation Spell, can bring you to any building you've been to or out of a building you're in, regardless of teleportation restrictions. Has enough range to reach the International Space Station in your world from the Mariana's Trench's deepest point.
"Naturally I wouldn't mind having one or more Zeldas coming along with you, I heard it is fairly entertaining when the fate of my world isn't at stake. Hint Hint."
submitted by fanficwriter1994 to JumpChain [link] [comments]
You awaken, startled, and find yourself in a strange room with blue water flowing from up high, you standing in the center of a hexagonal platform with six other platforms, adorned each with a different symbol, at each of the points of your platform.
Standing on the platform with the yellow symbol you find a blonde woman who you would recognize to appear much like Princess Zelda from the The Legend of Zelda series, though none of them seem to match her appearance exactly.
"Greetings, traveler from another world." Speaks up the woman, smiling mildly at you. "I am Hylia, goddess of this realm and agent of the GOlden Goddesses who created it. I am sure you wonder how you got here or if this is even real, but I assure you, it is. I have brought you here on recommendation of a certain, impish deity from outside this realm, with a request." Explained Hylia and a lifts a hand to create a ball of light.
"I was granted the ability to host a, as your people call it, Jumpchain, and directed to take you on as a Jumper, as for why I am doing this, well... There hasn't been born a hero in this timeline. Link doesn't exist here." She sighs and shakes her head.
"For that reason, I have called on you, to take the role, so let me get to the actual rules next." She explains.
- You must take each Main Series Zelda game jump in chronological Order, as in the timeline chronological order.
II. Minish Cap
III. Four Swords
IV. Ocarina of Time
V. Majora's Mask
VI. Twilight Princess
VII. Four Swords Adventures
VIII.1 Adult Timeline/Downfall Timeline your choice
VIII.2 Wind WakeA Link to the Past
VIII.3 Phantom Hourglass/Link's Awakening
VIII.4 Spirit Tracks/Oracle of Ages or Seasons
VIII.5 None/Other Oracle game
VIII.6 None/Oracle of Scenario
VIII.7 None/A Link Between Worlds
VIII.8 None/Zelda 1 Gauntlet
VIII.9 None/Zelda 2
IX. Breath of the Wild (Final of this section of the chain)
- You may not use the Universal Drawbacks Supplement.
- You may only use standard Supplements such as Cosmic Warehouse or it's replacers, Bodymod as well as Housing, Dock and so on Supplements.
- You can choose 1 Drawback in a Jump when you make your build, it's negative effects are doubled but you may take it's CP into all other Jumps too, granting that CP the Drawback gave to your starting budget.
- CP carried over from Drawbacks are cut in half during Gauntlets.
- Companion Purchases and Imports are free of charge.
- If you hook up with somebody and have a child, it can become a Companion.
- You cannot quit the chain until you're done with all of the above jumps as well as one more additional Jump.
- You must take the role of Link and do his job.
- As Link, you must be Hylian though in the Adult Timeline you may choose to be one of the other races as that Link wasn't initially chosen but become the hero of his own volition, you carry the race choice into the Spirit Tracks Jump.
- Heart Container are a thing here too, but you will start each Zelda Jump with only the starting 3 heart containers. They work as damage sponges, keeping you save and healthy until they run out.
- You cannot take the Triforce between the Jumps of this section of the chain, if you as Link would have one of the Triforce aspects, fine, that is just part of the jump. But you cannot rip the Triforce of Power out of Ganondorf's stiff corpse after Twilight Princess and take it into Four Swords Adventures, sorry.
- During Gauntlets and Powerloss situations (Item or Perk loss) you may choose 10 Perks and 10 Items from the jumps listed above and take them along into those jumps but they're scaled down to local levels if they're too OP.
- You will be known in future Jumps as "The Hero of Light", with all things dark and evil knowing you on sight and knowing that you have faced far worse than them in your time. This grants you the sort of treatment reserved for police officers as these beings know, you are the Immune System against their kind.
- You may take Generic First Jump, Generic Virgin and Generic First Gauntlet following this series of jumps. However, Gauntlet rules for powers are in effects in these jumps.
- You are granted the Triforce for real this time, though because of divine politics it isn't omnipotent outside the world of Hyrule. Once per year it can be used to grant a wish up to and incuding something on the level of restoring the Lorule Triforce or reviving the dead.
- The Triforce grants, for each of it's components, one of the following boons:
II. Wisdom: Grants near limitless magical power, greatly increase intelligence, a x10 multiplier to the speed at which you're learning new information, as well as allowing you to grant your Perks to another person if they agree to it.
III. Courage: Never be frozen in fear, always able to react and act. You also have a strong will, able to withstand incredible hardships, resist attempts to break your will and even resist any and all efforts to possess you. Lastly, no amount of time can rust your blade, your skills will remain as fresh and well oiled as if you had been practicing nonstop for years. Lastly, if you would die for real, another you is born and the plot and your time in a Jump shall not continue until that you is at least 12 years old, which in Zelda terms means they're ready to kick ass and take names.
IV.1 Additionally, the three grant the following spells: Din's Fire: Create a powerful fireblast around you at base, may also be used as Pyrokinesis and heat control.
IV.2 Nayru's Wisdom: Create a bubble shield around you that lasts 3 minutes at base, may also create a panel or large dome shield of up to 50 meters in circumference. Attacks cannot penetrate this shield while it lasts.
IV.3 Farore's Wind: A Teleportation Spell, can bring you to any building you've been to or out of a building you're in, regardless of teleportation restrictions. Has enough range to reach the International Space Station in your world from the Mariana's Trench's deepest point.
- All of your Companions, gained here, share a Companion Slot, meaning that for the price of one Companion, all of them can be imported. However, they do not share the same companion stipend, instead each gets their own as separate companions with a +400 CP to any stipend they would get and another +300 CP for Item Sections and any special sections of a jump. Don't want your comrades getting held back, right?
- Weapon purchases and upgrades stack, all manual upgrades are also fiat backed. In essence, if you have several purchases of the L2 upgrade applied to, say, the Master Sword, each of them will multiply the power of said weapon.
- Fi, Sword of the Hero: The spirit of the Master Sword, Fi, has regained complete self-awareness and may manifest once more in physical form. I have integrated knowledge acquisition abilities into her that will work in all future jumps similar to how it worked in the time of Skyloft. She also imports separate from Companion Slots automatically with 800 general CP and 400 CP as a stipend for Item sections and other sections like that separate from Items or Perks. CP from importing her directly naturally stacks on top of that but not in the way of the other companions. Lastly, she can, like in Hyrule Warriors, assume the form of the Master Sword which she can manipulate telekinetically and has all the same upgrades and powers as your own strongest variant.
- The powers of the champions are now your own to command. Mipha's Grace, Daruk's Protection, Urbosa's Fury, Revali's Gale and Link's Time Dilation are all abilities you now possess on the same level as said champions, and yes, the time dilation is an actual ability, not just a game mechanic. However, Daruk's Protection doesn't work against electricity and can be broken through, and Mipha's Grace still takes some time to cast.
- Hyrulean Hero: You have earned the loyalty, friendship and in some cases love, of so many people in this world, why should we leave you to on with just a pittance of that? At will you can summon an army of Hyrule's various races of light, from Hylians to Koroks and Kokiri, of all the eras you have visited. They are equipped to the peak of their respective armed forces capabilities, Hylian Knights standing with Goron Warriors, Zora Pikeman flanking Kokiri Bowman and Gerudo Skirmishers preparing to charge in after Rito bombing runs, Sheikah Shinobi preparing to go in with an army of Guardians. Just be careful, this is still a medieval army, Guardians or not.
- (NEW) Companions can import into Generic First/Virgin Jump/Gauntlet with 1000 C to use and a Origin of their choice. They will come along with you through the levels of the Jump/Gauntlet, obviously.
"Naturally I wouldn't mind having one or more Zeldas coming along with you, I heard it is fairly entertaining when the fate of my world isn't at stake. Hint Hint."
2023.05.29 16:45 AutoModerator Todd Valentine - Verbal Academy (Complete Program)
Chat +447593882116 (Telegram/Whatsapp) to get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy.
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
submitted by AutoModerator to ToddValentineCircle [link] [comments]
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
2023.05.29 16:40 AutoModerator [Complete] Todd V - Verbal Game Academy
Chat +447593882116 (Telegram/Whatsapp) to get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy.
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
submitted by AutoModerator to ToodValentineRSD [link] [comments]
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
2023.05.29 16:31 SleeplessFromSundown The Séance Club - The End of Windhaven Manor [Final]
This post is the final part of this story. Sorry it has taken so long to get through. And I'm not sure I even understand all of it yet. If you're new, this all started here. The previous part (Part 7) is here. Thank you to everyone who followed along.
-----
“Do you see her?” I asked in a meek voice.
“You mean that girl in black?” Harvey answered.
It was her, in the flesh. Her lips parted and formed a malevolent smile. Her dark eyes fixed on mine. My legs turned to solid lead. My feet refused to move. The anxiousness to reach Parker and Juliet and Beth in the cellar crumbled like the wood turning to ash behind us. She demanded my attention.
A hand rocked my shoulder. Harvey. I pushed him away.
“You have to go. Help them. I’ll take care of her.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
A mirage of Harvey flitted past Ally and disappeared into the kitchen. Everything blurred, everything but her.
She tilted her head to one side and bridged the gap between us with four slow and deliberate steps. She pushed her right hand out from a long sleeve and ran the black painted nail of her index finger across my cheek, the smooth lacquer cold against my skin. I shuddered as the chill spread like ice creeping up a window.
“It is such a shame to be losing you so soon. We’ve only just met, and yet I feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives. Do you feel it too?”
I shook my head. “Let me go.”
“We’re past that now Sam. I considered if we could coexist, you and I. It gave me a thrill knowing there is another one out there like me. But you insist on meddling with my work.”
“You mean locking all those girls in that filthy dungeon where they met their end? And Jane here.”
“The work is sometimes unpleasant.”
“But the pay is good?”
“This isn’t about money Sam. You and I are the same. The pain you felt from not fitting in. The lonely nights lying awake, wishing you could be like everyone else. The stares and the whispers. The rejection from those who are supposed to love us the most. I too know. But where you hid, I searched out a path where my talents were appreciated and rewarded. You don’t hate me Sam. You hate yourself for not thriving like I have.”
“Thriving? Is that what you call it?”
“By all measures yes. I am good at what I do. The best. The only. Or so I thought. And then there is you. A naïve, sheltered little boy who can barely put on his own pants in the morning. It is such a shame. And these so-called friends of yours, that was always doomed to failure. Oh and if you harbour any thoughts of them escaping, know that we blocked the little secret entrance the stable boy showed you. There’s no escape except through the fire. When they pick through the ashes of this building they will find their bones, and yours. Is this how you imagined it turning out?”
I flexed the muscles in my legs, but they refused to move. Ally smiled.
“It’s useless now Sam.”
I heard the faint whisper of Juliet’s voice in my head. She pleaded with me. Come on Sam, you can do this. I remembered the last encounter with Ally, outside the wall separating Windhaven Manor from the world. Ally had put me in the white room. I had broken free. I had overcome her power once. I had to do it again.
I took a deep breath in through my nose and cried out and willed my feet to move. Electricity coursed through my body and I directed it down to the floor. My left heel separated from the floor and that set the whole thing in motion. The dam burst. I lurched forwards and overbalanced and sprawled to the floor.
Ally crouched beside me and chuckled. “Some would call it a tragedy for a child to die so soon after learning to walk.”
I looked back towards the front of the house. The fire burned hot. Thick black smoke circled up the huge open space of the gallery. Portraits hanging on the wall bubbled and curled as flames consumed them.
A figure appeared at the foot of the staircase. The spectre of Crown. The goons had dragged his lifeless corpse out of the house, but stood before me was the spirit with unfinished business. The ugliness of his actions showed through now in death. His skin was sallow and wrinkled. His head too big for his body and his teeth yellowed. A grotesque monster made worse by his mortal demise.
Ally whispered in my ear. “He knows it was your meddling that brought about his end. I’ll leave you two alone.”
She brushed my cheek with the back of her hand and stood. As she walked away leather straps materialised out of thin air and pinned my body to the floor.
The spectre of Crown grew before me, swelling in size until he had to crouch to stay below the chandelier. He clenched his fists and with burning red eyes let out a guttural growl that skipped my ears and penetrated directly into my skull.
I tried to pull my hands to my ears but they would not come. It made no difference. The roar coming from Crown stabbed the inside of my head like a thousand daggers. I lifted my head and the growl grew to a scream that ricocheted around the inside of my skull. I couldn’t take much more. It felt as though my head would explode.
Guilt bubbled up and mingled with the fear and I shrank into the floor and wished for it to swallow me. They were down there, the only friends I had known, banging against a locked door denying their escape. I sobbed. I sobbed like I had the night my parents turned from me.
In the pit of my stomach something else grew. A seed of frustration born of a lifetime existing in a world that didn’t make sense. A world where I had no idea who I was and what I could or should do. A world in which I hid. I couldn’t do that now.
Juliet’s voice as clear as day, cutting through the racket of Crown’s scream. Do it Sam. I gritted my teeth and electricity buzzed somewhere deep inside, at first dull and imperceptible, and then amplified and resonating until it peaked into a deafening roar.
Above Crown the bulbs in the chandelier glowed white. He swivelled his head and watched them dumbly.
I concentrated, felt the energy forming an extra limb. Like the arms and legs of a newborn it flailed spasmodically. I fought to control it, to turn it to my will. I focussed on the straps pinning me to the floor. The electricity fed into the straps and turned them hot. For a moment I feared they would scold my skin, and then in a moment of release they split and flung upwards.
I picked myself up off the floor and faced the spectre of Crown. Like a spent boxer throwing one final punch I threw out my hands and screamed, willing Crown to be quiet and be still. Demanding he be so.
The floor shook. The dozens of bulbs in the chandelier shattered. The giant spectre of Crown diminished and the screaming inside my head softened until it was no more. Crown’s eyes opened wide as his mouth stitched together and his arms wrenched behind his back. I flicked my hand like I was swatting a fly and Crown flew into the corner of the room and slumped to the floor.
I bent over and rested my hands on my knees. My muscles ached, like I had run a marathon. Shadows played on the floor. I sucked in air and smoke and spluttered and coughed.
In the hallway the silhouette of Ally. She turned and shook her head. The heat of the fire intensified and crackled at my skin. If we were to make our escape, she could not be here to block us. I straightened and strode towards her.
I cycled furiously through the events of the last few days, searching for something to defeat Ally. I had to do to her what she had done to me. The time for running and breaking her spells was through.
I closed my eyes and concentrated. I stripped away everything except for the two of us. The crackle of the fire replaced with silence. The smell of the smoke disappeared. The heat washed away. One by one I shut down all my senses. When I opened my eyes a monotone room of white. Sterile calm had replaced the burning insides of Windhaven Manor.
Her eyes scanned the room and she giggled. “Cheap tricks won’t get you far,” she said. “And you learned this one from me.”
The white rippled as if the walls were made of water. She was fighting it. I concentrated, focussing all my energy, all my will. The ripples slowed and then stopped.
“You’re a fast learner,” she said. “But I have been doing this for more than a weekend.”
Strips of colour permeated the white. A rectangle of tile appeared on the floor. And then some blue from the curtain. Enough of a smouldering wall to let in some smoke. The acrid smell reached my nose and I spluttered. As each wedge of colour appeared, I filled it back in white. But it was a sinking ship and the pail I held to bail out the water would not be enough.
Ally grunted under her breath. A grunt of frustration. The white room shook and made a sound like a train bearing down.
I had to bind her. I raised my palm and coils of rope rose from the ground and oscillated like snakes around her. She swatted them away and wrenched them from the ground and flung them at my feet, limp and unmoving.
“It won’t be that easy,” she sneered.
My arms jerked behind my back. She bound my wrists and then my ankles. She pursed her lips and blew as if extinguishing a single candle on a birthday cake, and it was enough to send me to the floor. I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help.
I shut my eyes and concentrated my energy not on my bindings, but on the woods at the back of Windhaven Manor. On the girls who escaped the dungeon and now roamed the forest, watching the house burn from behind the barrier Ally constructed.
I fed the energy coursing through my body into the giant snowdome structure until it burned hot and then like the globes in the chandelier, it cracked and exploded into the night sky. The spirits of the girls watched the shards disappear and then strode towards the Manor.
I turned my attention to the tiny room beside the pantry, where Jane Laughlin lay bound to the bed. I stood beside her and lay my hand on the shackles binding her to the bed. She shuddered as the mask came free from her mouth and then stood as the shackles broke.
I opened my eyes and the white of the room flickered off and then back on again like bad reception on a television. I had to keep the white walls up long enough for them to draw near. For them to be ready when the façade fell. Ally strode towards me, exuding confidence.
“You can’t beat me Sam.”
Ally squeezed her hands into fists and screamed. In a burst of energy she wiped the white room clear and we were back in the burning house. The air was thick with smoke. Behind me a timber beam tumbled from the ceiling and crashed to the floor. The heat and smoke sucked the moisture from my insides and I heaved out a series of coughs.
Ally opened her eyes and smiled. She had bested me. But then they came. The girls from the dungeon and Jane Laughlin surrounded her. The sum total off all the pain and hurt inflicted in this place. Everything Ally had worked to keep hidden from the world.
They lurched at Ally. She raised her hands and pushed them back one by one as they went for her. She spun on the spot, trying to keep them at bay. She could not hold them all back. The sheer weight of numbers overwhelmed. They leaned in and pushed their heads into hers and showed her what those men had done. Made her feel it. The fear and despair and anger of each individual stacked together and Ally crumpled to the floor holding her head.
“Make it stop,” she said.
They kept at her.
Jane Laughlin sidled over to the base of the stairs where Crown sat, bound and with his mouth stitched. She considered him, restrained and helpless on the floor as she had been. He fought with his restraints, and then whimpered, as she had. As I ran for the pantry and the wine cellar, the corridor filled with the muffled sound of his screams.
The door to the cellar stood open and I made the descent of the stairs in three leaps. The enclosed space already full with smoke. At the end of the long corridor leading outside, Parker and Harvey shouldered the door. Juliet and Beth screamed encouragement. The door would not budge.
“We can’t go that way,” I yelled.
They raced back up the long corridor. A sudden rush of emotion bubbled up to the surface. I was so happy to see them all still alive. My lower jaw rattled and my hands shook. I fought to hide it.
Beth reached me first. “Sam, you’re ok.”
I blubbered a response and took in a lung full of smoke. We had to get out.
The fire raged outside the kitchen door. A wave of flame climbed up and spread across the ceiling. A subtle cracking sound from above intensified and a chunk of the upstairs floor came crashing down through the ceiling, blocking the rear door. We couldn’t get out the back. The only way now was back through the house. A ball of flame whooshed through the doorway and I put my arm up too late, my eyebrows wilting in the heat.
We crouched together in the middle of the kitchen, lowering our heads to get the last of the remaining oxygen. Malicious red flames and choking black smoke surrounded us on all sides.
“Where do we go now?” Parker’s words came out between coughs. Tears streaked down his cheeks. Soot covered his brow. I wished I had an answer.
Then he was there, standing over Parker’s shoulder. Leon. With the protective bubble gone, he too was free to come in the Manor.
“The fire has not yet consumed the dining room. But you don’t have long.”
I looked vaguely in the direction of the kitchen door and blinked back the stinging from the smoke. “I don’t think we can find it in this.”
“Follow me.”
I pulled my shirt up over my head. “We have to go. The dining room, we can make it. All together on three.”
I shouted out the numbers, the sound drowned out by the roar of the fire. I grabbed Beth’s hand and yanked her into action. Leon led the way and I kept my eyes on his heels. Together we were a flurry of arms and legs bounding for the dining room. I gritted my teeth against the heat. We burst through the doorway and everything turned orange.
From below the sweater pulled tight down over my hair, I shot a glance over to the floor of the grand gallery where I had left Ally writhing on the floor. She was not there now. Nor were the spectres of the girls.
I followed Leon’s heels into the dining room. The great wooden table smouldered in the centre of the room. Brilliant orange flames consumed the thick curtains. Parker spotted his camera still atop the tripod and set to pulling the camera free before Harvey grabbed his arm and yelled something that sounded like ‘leave it’.
Harvey grabbed one of the heavy chairs with their high backs and velvet cushions and heaved it at the window in the back corner of the room. The chair disappeared into the darkness of the night and Harvey kicked at the glass shards left behind. Parker joined. We piled out the opening.
I drank in the fresh cool air of night, staggering over the narrow path beside the house and to the small strip of grass beyond. Parker collapsed beside me and pulled the laptop out from under his shirt. He tapped at the casing and for a moment a brief smile flashed across his face, but it did not last long. He wiped soot and sweat from his face with shaking hands.
Harvey checked us all in turn, like a parent fussing over their children. We had scrapes and bruises and our skin was red and raw, but we were alright. We had survived. He ran to the front of the house and came back with palms held out by his sides. The man in the black suit, the goons Ponytail and Beanie, and Ally were all gone, along with the black van and the BMW.
Huddled together, we watched the fire consume Windhaven Manor, bright reds and oranges lighting up the windows and thick black smoke tumbling into the purple haze of sky. It was almost morning, the horizon signalling the coming of the sun.
Leon stood apart on the grass. I went to him.
“Thank you for coming back for us.”
He shrugged. “It’s something. It isn’t enough to make up for the rest.”
“You saved our lives. And those girls, they had their chance to meet their tormentors. That’s something too.”
He nodded. “What happens now?”
I turned my head sideways. “I’m still learning how all this works.”
The red of the fire reflected in his eyes. “Me too. I might go for a walk in the woods. I always liked it out there.”
He glided across the lawn and entered the trees and was gone.
The sound of sirens fought with the crackle of the fire. The fire brigade and the police. I got to my feet and shuffled to the front of the Manor. The burnt out carcasses of our cars stood by the low height wall. Black soot smudged the stone façade above the windows and the doors.
By the oak tree on the ocean side of the house stood Jane Laughlin. She peered down into a hole dug at the base of the tree. A pale and withered hand poked up out of the dirt. Her hand. They had meant to remove the body, but had aborted the task and fled.
A fire truck appeared at the head of the driveway and then another. They sped down the gravel and came to a sliding stop. A lone police car followed. Harvey sidled over.
Jane looked to the horizon. Out on the cliff edge stood a figure in a red dress. She recognised her sister Kylie immediately and ran down the slope. The two sisters embraced in the first light of the sun. I turned to the whoosh of water through a hose from the fire trucks and when I turned back, the Laughlin sisters were gone.
The members of The Séance Club, which I now consider myself a part, sat together on the low-height stone wall as the firefighters extinguished the flames consuming Windhaven Manor. The house was quiet now. The nausea and vibration I had felt that first night replaced with calm.
The police stripped the compound clean for the best part of a week. They identified Kyle the sketch artist and Hugo from the teeth that survived the fire of the hovel built over the dungeon. Hugo’s wife lay on the back lawn where Beanie and Ponytail had left her. But as to specific evidence of the crimes that occurred, they could not find enough to put a case together.
The two fires and the disappearance of Crown made some headlines, but there wasn’t enough to hang anyone else. The police claimed publicly that there was no link between the fire at Windhaven Manor and the fire at the squalid residence over the back fence. At Harvey’s behest they searched the area with cadaver dogs for the remains of the girls, but they found nothing.
Parker turned his laptop over to the police. They identified the two goons, Ponytail and Beanie, low level thugs who had disappeared from the streets years earlier. Those in the know presumed them dead. It made tracing them almost impossible. Tracing their vehicles lead to a dead end.
The man in black the suit on the other hand might as well be a ghost. On him they found nothing. They have a face, but nothing else.
As for Ally, the girl somehow managed to always turn her face away from the cameras, as if she knew where they were.
I sat in a small room at the police station for three days with Harvey putting the pieces together. He showed me a photograph of an old and gaunt man with a bent back, the last owner of Windhaven Manor before it was sold after his death. He had to be the man with the bent back from the ceremony in the dungeon, but I could not be certain. I never saw his face. Of the faces I did see, we knew Crown and Kyle and Hugo, but the others were harder to pinpoint.
At the end of it all Harvey sighed. There was nothing more we could do. But we could rest on the knowledge that the key players in the ceremony were all now dead.
Questions nagged at me. Where was Ally and what was she doing? Would she try to find me? Who was she working for?
That was the biggest question of all. Who was at the top and pulling the strings? Harvey wasn’t giving up. He was a dog with a bone at the best of times, and now he had a taste of blood. He refused to go back to the police even after Crown’s departure, which he described as the removal of a cancerous limb.
Harvey called me after the dust settled on everything. I told him that the trail had gone cold and I had no idea where Ally was. For all I knew she had evaporated into thin air. Harvey thought it unlikely, and I agreed. He told me it was time for some old-fashioned detective work. The names of the goons would be a start.
And there was something else Harvey mentioned, something that I had almost forgotten. He had always believed that his investigation into the disappearance of the girls was the reason one of his colleagues was murdered. Crown confirmed as much in the bedroom right before he was shot. Harvey thinks there is something to it. Another thread to pull, and he has a hunch. For now he’s keeping his cards close to his chest until he has some proof. I almost pressed him on the issue but decided I’d rather put it all behind me.
The story made headlines in the local press for a while, but ultimately it fizzled into a non-story, quickly forgotten by a public with a short attention spans. We all waited for a reckoning from within the police ranks, but it never came. Harvey predicted that’s the way it would go, and he was proven right.
The one item they did recover was a gold necklace with a heart pendant. The necklace Jane Laughlin wore the night of her death. The police found it where the black van had parked. After a few days in the possession of the police, Harvey arranged to have the necklace released to the family of its former owner.
The following day Mr. and Mrs. Laughlin appeared on the local news, thanking the efforts of those who recovered the remains of their daughter. It was closure, though not the kind they had hoped for. Both their girls were dead.
A week later The Séance Club convened in Beth’s apartment. Parker and Juliet were already there when I arrived. It was cathartic to talk about the events at Windhaven Manor, to compare stories and scars. I guess that’s why they have the saying about a problem shared.
After a brief silence, Beth asked, “Are you going to talk to the parents of Jane and Kylie?”
I shook my head. “What will I tell them?”
“That their daughters found each other out by the cliff edge.”
“And what about the agony of their deaths? Should I tell them that too? Besides, it doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right to me yet. And what weight do my words hold over those of some Priest talking about how he knows their souls are at rest.”
“Because you really do know.”
I shrugged. “I can’t prove any of it.”
Truth was I had no idea how to integrate the things I could see and do into my life. From childhood all I had wanted was to be like everyone else. For people not to stare or whisper as I walked by. To find acceptance. Sitting with my three new friends at Beth’s tiny kitchen table, with our shared experience behind us, I finally had it. This could be the start of something.
Parker was already planning the next Séance Club trip. An abandoned farm up north with mysterious sightings going back centuries. Juliet was already on board. I told them to wait. I couldn’t jump back in right away.
I was the last to leave, Beth and I sipping mug after mug of coffee and sharing comfortable silence. When I sighed and told her I should go, she grabbed my arm.
“I’ve never had a real family, and then I found Juliet and Parker. The Séance Club became my family. Whatever happens we are there for each other. And we mean it when we say we want you to join.”
I thought about that all night, unable to sleep.
The next morning I called Parker.
An abandoned farm up north you say?
* * * *
I navigated to the narrow alley and checked the time. The Exchange should be open. It looked out of context in the Saturday morning light. No bright light spilling from the window. No surge of Friday night after work traffic.
I slipped in the front door. A lone man lifted upturned stools down from the bar. He had his back to me and I crept across the hardwood floor in the direction of the stairs down and the bathrooms.
The vibration swelled in my chest, but I did not fear it. A dull pain rose in the base of my skull, but I gritted my teeth. A man wearing a pair of rough leather shoes came from the other end of the corridor and stopped before me.
“Are you here to help?”
I nodded.
X
submitted by SleeplessFromSundown to nosleep [link] [comments]
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“Do you see her?” I asked in a meek voice.
“You mean that girl in black?” Harvey answered.
It was her, in the flesh. Her lips parted and formed a malevolent smile. Her dark eyes fixed on mine. My legs turned to solid lead. My feet refused to move. The anxiousness to reach Parker and Juliet and Beth in the cellar crumbled like the wood turning to ash behind us. She demanded my attention.
A hand rocked my shoulder. Harvey. I pushed him away.
“You have to go. Help them. I’ll take care of her.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
A mirage of Harvey flitted past Ally and disappeared into the kitchen. Everything blurred, everything but her.
She tilted her head to one side and bridged the gap between us with four slow and deliberate steps. She pushed her right hand out from a long sleeve and ran the black painted nail of her index finger across my cheek, the smooth lacquer cold against my skin. I shuddered as the chill spread like ice creeping up a window.
“It is such a shame to be losing you so soon. We’ve only just met, and yet I feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives. Do you feel it too?”
I shook my head. “Let me go.”
“We’re past that now Sam. I considered if we could coexist, you and I. It gave me a thrill knowing there is another one out there like me. But you insist on meddling with my work.”
“You mean locking all those girls in that filthy dungeon where they met their end? And Jane here.”
“The work is sometimes unpleasant.”
“But the pay is good?”
“This isn’t about money Sam. You and I are the same. The pain you felt from not fitting in. The lonely nights lying awake, wishing you could be like everyone else. The stares and the whispers. The rejection from those who are supposed to love us the most. I too know. But where you hid, I searched out a path where my talents were appreciated and rewarded. You don’t hate me Sam. You hate yourself for not thriving like I have.”
“Thriving? Is that what you call it?”
“By all measures yes. I am good at what I do. The best. The only. Or so I thought. And then there is you. A naïve, sheltered little boy who can barely put on his own pants in the morning. It is such a shame. And these so-called friends of yours, that was always doomed to failure. Oh and if you harbour any thoughts of them escaping, know that we blocked the little secret entrance the stable boy showed you. There’s no escape except through the fire. When they pick through the ashes of this building they will find their bones, and yours. Is this how you imagined it turning out?”
I flexed the muscles in my legs, but they refused to move. Ally smiled.
“It’s useless now Sam.”
I heard the faint whisper of Juliet’s voice in my head. She pleaded with me. Come on Sam, you can do this. I remembered the last encounter with Ally, outside the wall separating Windhaven Manor from the world. Ally had put me in the white room. I had broken free. I had overcome her power once. I had to do it again.
I took a deep breath in through my nose and cried out and willed my feet to move. Electricity coursed through my body and I directed it down to the floor. My left heel separated from the floor and that set the whole thing in motion. The dam burst. I lurched forwards and overbalanced and sprawled to the floor.
Ally crouched beside me and chuckled. “Some would call it a tragedy for a child to die so soon after learning to walk.”
I looked back towards the front of the house. The fire burned hot. Thick black smoke circled up the huge open space of the gallery. Portraits hanging on the wall bubbled and curled as flames consumed them.
A figure appeared at the foot of the staircase. The spectre of Crown. The goons had dragged his lifeless corpse out of the house, but stood before me was the spirit with unfinished business. The ugliness of his actions showed through now in death. His skin was sallow and wrinkled. His head too big for his body and his teeth yellowed. A grotesque monster made worse by his mortal demise.
Ally whispered in my ear. “He knows it was your meddling that brought about his end. I’ll leave you two alone.”
She brushed my cheek with the back of her hand and stood. As she walked away leather straps materialised out of thin air and pinned my body to the floor.
The spectre of Crown grew before me, swelling in size until he had to crouch to stay below the chandelier. He clenched his fists and with burning red eyes let out a guttural growl that skipped my ears and penetrated directly into my skull.
I tried to pull my hands to my ears but they would not come. It made no difference. The roar coming from Crown stabbed the inside of my head like a thousand daggers. I lifted my head and the growl grew to a scream that ricocheted around the inside of my skull. I couldn’t take much more. It felt as though my head would explode.
Guilt bubbled up and mingled with the fear and I shrank into the floor and wished for it to swallow me. They were down there, the only friends I had known, banging against a locked door denying their escape. I sobbed. I sobbed like I had the night my parents turned from me.
In the pit of my stomach something else grew. A seed of frustration born of a lifetime existing in a world that didn’t make sense. A world where I had no idea who I was and what I could or should do. A world in which I hid. I couldn’t do that now.
Juliet’s voice as clear as day, cutting through the racket of Crown’s scream. Do it Sam. I gritted my teeth and electricity buzzed somewhere deep inside, at first dull and imperceptible, and then amplified and resonating until it peaked into a deafening roar.
Above Crown the bulbs in the chandelier glowed white. He swivelled his head and watched them dumbly.
I concentrated, felt the energy forming an extra limb. Like the arms and legs of a newborn it flailed spasmodically. I fought to control it, to turn it to my will. I focussed on the straps pinning me to the floor. The electricity fed into the straps and turned them hot. For a moment I feared they would scold my skin, and then in a moment of release they split and flung upwards.
I picked myself up off the floor and faced the spectre of Crown. Like a spent boxer throwing one final punch I threw out my hands and screamed, willing Crown to be quiet and be still. Demanding he be so.
The floor shook. The dozens of bulbs in the chandelier shattered. The giant spectre of Crown diminished and the screaming inside my head softened until it was no more. Crown’s eyes opened wide as his mouth stitched together and his arms wrenched behind his back. I flicked my hand like I was swatting a fly and Crown flew into the corner of the room and slumped to the floor.
I bent over and rested my hands on my knees. My muscles ached, like I had run a marathon. Shadows played on the floor. I sucked in air and smoke and spluttered and coughed.
In the hallway the silhouette of Ally. She turned and shook her head. The heat of the fire intensified and crackled at my skin. If we were to make our escape, she could not be here to block us. I straightened and strode towards her.
I cycled furiously through the events of the last few days, searching for something to defeat Ally. I had to do to her what she had done to me. The time for running and breaking her spells was through.
I closed my eyes and concentrated. I stripped away everything except for the two of us. The crackle of the fire replaced with silence. The smell of the smoke disappeared. The heat washed away. One by one I shut down all my senses. When I opened my eyes a monotone room of white. Sterile calm had replaced the burning insides of Windhaven Manor.
Her eyes scanned the room and she giggled. “Cheap tricks won’t get you far,” she said. “And you learned this one from me.”
The white rippled as if the walls were made of water. She was fighting it. I concentrated, focussing all my energy, all my will. The ripples slowed and then stopped.
“You’re a fast learner,” she said. “But I have been doing this for more than a weekend.”
Strips of colour permeated the white. A rectangle of tile appeared on the floor. And then some blue from the curtain. Enough of a smouldering wall to let in some smoke. The acrid smell reached my nose and I spluttered. As each wedge of colour appeared, I filled it back in white. But it was a sinking ship and the pail I held to bail out the water would not be enough.
Ally grunted under her breath. A grunt of frustration. The white room shook and made a sound like a train bearing down.
I had to bind her. I raised my palm and coils of rope rose from the ground and oscillated like snakes around her. She swatted them away and wrenched them from the ground and flung them at my feet, limp and unmoving.
“It won’t be that easy,” she sneered.
My arms jerked behind my back. She bound my wrists and then my ankles. She pursed her lips and blew as if extinguishing a single candle on a birthday cake, and it was enough to send me to the floor. I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help.
I shut my eyes and concentrated my energy not on my bindings, but on the woods at the back of Windhaven Manor. On the girls who escaped the dungeon and now roamed the forest, watching the house burn from behind the barrier Ally constructed.
I fed the energy coursing through my body into the giant snowdome structure until it burned hot and then like the globes in the chandelier, it cracked and exploded into the night sky. The spirits of the girls watched the shards disappear and then strode towards the Manor.
I turned my attention to the tiny room beside the pantry, where Jane Laughlin lay bound to the bed. I stood beside her and lay my hand on the shackles binding her to the bed. She shuddered as the mask came free from her mouth and then stood as the shackles broke.
I opened my eyes and the white of the room flickered off and then back on again like bad reception on a television. I had to keep the white walls up long enough for them to draw near. For them to be ready when the façade fell. Ally strode towards me, exuding confidence.
“You can’t beat me Sam.”
Ally squeezed her hands into fists and screamed. In a burst of energy she wiped the white room clear and we were back in the burning house. The air was thick with smoke. Behind me a timber beam tumbled from the ceiling and crashed to the floor. The heat and smoke sucked the moisture from my insides and I heaved out a series of coughs.
Ally opened her eyes and smiled. She had bested me. But then they came. The girls from the dungeon and Jane Laughlin surrounded her. The sum total off all the pain and hurt inflicted in this place. Everything Ally had worked to keep hidden from the world.
They lurched at Ally. She raised her hands and pushed them back one by one as they went for her. She spun on the spot, trying to keep them at bay. She could not hold them all back. The sheer weight of numbers overwhelmed. They leaned in and pushed their heads into hers and showed her what those men had done. Made her feel it. The fear and despair and anger of each individual stacked together and Ally crumpled to the floor holding her head.
“Make it stop,” she said.
They kept at her.
Jane Laughlin sidled over to the base of the stairs where Crown sat, bound and with his mouth stitched. She considered him, restrained and helpless on the floor as she had been. He fought with his restraints, and then whimpered, as she had. As I ran for the pantry and the wine cellar, the corridor filled with the muffled sound of his screams.
The door to the cellar stood open and I made the descent of the stairs in three leaps. The enclosed space already full with smoke. At the end of the long corridor leading outside, Parker and Harvey shouldered the door. Juliet and Beth screamed encouragement. The door would not budge.
“We can’t go that way,” I yelled.
They raced back up the long corridor. A sudden rush of emotion bubbled up to the surface. I was so happy to see them all still alive. My lower jaw rattled and my hands shook. I fought to hide it.
Beth reached me first. “Sam, you’re ok.”
I blubbered a response and took in a lung full of smoke. We had to get out.
The fire raged outside the kitchen door. A wave of flame climbed up and spread across the ceiling. A subtle cracking sound from above intensified and a chunk of the upstairs floor came crashing down through the ceiling, blocking the rear door. We couldn’t get out the back. The only way now was back through the house. A ball of flame whooshed through the doorway and I put my arm up too late, my eyebrows wilting in the heat.
We crouched together in the middle of the kitchen, lowering our heads to get the last of the remaining oxygen. Malicious red flames and choking black smoke surrounded us on all sides.
“Where do we go now?” Parker’s words came out between coughs. Tears streaked down his cheeks. Soot covered his brow. I wished I had an answer.
Then he was there, standing over Parker’s shoulder. Leon. With the protective bubble gone, he too was free to come in the Manor.
“The fire has not yet consumed the dining room. But you don’t have long.”
I looked vaguely in the direction of the kitchen door and blinked back the stinging from the smoke. “I don’t think we can find it in this.”
“Follow me.”
I pulled my shirt up over my head. “We have to go. The dining room, we can make it. All together on three.”
I shouted out the numbers, the sound drowned out by the roar of the fire. I grabbed Beth’s hand and yanked her into action. Leon led the way and I kept my eyes on his heels. Together we were a flurry of arms and legs bounding for the dining room. I gritted my teeth against the heat. We burst through the doorway and everything turned orange.
From below the sweater pulled tight down over my hair, I shot a glance over to the floor of the grand gallery where I had left Ally writhing on the floor. She was not there now. Nor were the spectres of the girls.
I followed Leon’s heels into the dining room. The great wooden table smouldered in the centre of the room. Brilliant orange flames consumed the thick curtains. Parker spotted his camera still atop the tripod and set to pulling the camera free before Harvey grabbed his arm and yelled something that sounded like ‘leave it’.
Harvey grabbed one of the heavy chairs with their high backs and velvet cushions and heaved it at the window in the back corner of the room. The chair disappeared into the darkness of the night and Harvey kicked at the glass shards left behind. Parker joined. We piled out the opening.
I drank in the fresh cool air of night, staggering over the narrow path beside the house and to the small strip of grass beyond. Parker collapsed beside me and pulled the laptop out from under his shirt. He tapped at the casing and for a moment a brief smile flashed across his face, but it did not last long. He wiped soot and sweat from his face with shaking hands.
Harvey checked us all in turn, like a parent fussing over their children. We had scrapes and bruises and our skin was red and raw, but we were alright. We had survived. He ran to the front of the house and came back with palms held out by his sides. The man in the black suit, the goons Ponytail and Beanie, and Ally were all gone, along with the black van and the BMW.
Huddled together, we watched the fire consume Windhaven Manor, bright reds and oranges lighting up the windows and thick black smoke tumbling into the purple haze of sky. It was almost morning, the horizon signalling the coming of the sun.
Leon stood apart on the grass. I went to him.
“Thank you for coming back for us.”
He shrugged. “It’s something. It isn’t enough to make up for the rest.”
“You saved our lives. And those girls, they had their chance to meet their tormentors. That’s something too.”
He nodded. “What happens now?”
I turned my head sideways. “I’m still learning how all this works.”
The red of the fire reflected in his eyes. “Me too. I might go for a walk in the woods. I always liked it out there.”
He glided across the lawn and entered the trees and was gone.
The sound of sirens fought with the crackle of the fire. The fire brigade and the police. I got to my feet and shuffled to the front of the Manor. The burnt out carcasses of our cars stood by the low height wall. Black soot smudged the stone façade above the windows and the doors.
By the oak tree on the ocean side of the house stood Jane Laughlin. She peered down into a hole dug at the base of the tree. A pale and withered hand poked up out of the dirt. Her hand. They had meant to remove the body, but had aborted the task and fled.
A fire truck appeared at the head of the driveway and then another. They sped down the gravel and came to a sliding stop. A lone police car followed. Harvey sidled over.
Jane looked to the horizon. Out on the cliff edge stood a figure in a red dress. She recognised her sister Kylie immediately and ran down the slope. The two sisters embraced in the first light of the sun. I turned to the whoosh of water through a hose from the fire trucks and when I turned back, the Laughlin sisters were gone.
The members of The Séance Club, which I now consider myself a part, sat together on the low-height stone wall as the firefighters extinguished the flames consuming Windhaven Manor. The house was quiet now. The nausea and vibration I had felt that first night replaced with calm.
The police stripped the compound clean for the best part of a week. They identified Kyle the sketch artist and Hugo from the teeth that survived the fire of the hovel built over the dungeon. Hugo’s wife lay on the back lawn where Beanie and Ponytail had left her. But as to specific evidence of the crimes that occurred, they could not find enough to put a case together.
The two fires and the disappearance of Crown made some headlines, but there wasn’t enough to hang anyone else. The police claimed publicly that there was no link between the fire at Windhaven Manor and the fire at the squalid residence over the back fence. At Harvey’s behest they searched the area with cadaver dogs for the remains of the girls, but they found nothing.
Parker turned his laptop over to the police. They identified the two goons, Ponytail and Beanie, low level thugs who had disappeared from the streets years earlier. Those in the know presumed them dead. It made tracing them almost impossible. Tracing their vehicles lead to a dead end.
The man in black the suit on the other hand might as well be a ghost. On him they found nothing. They have a face, but nothing else.
As for Ally, the girl somehow managed to always turn her face away from the cameras, as if she knew where they were.
I sat in a small room at the police station for three days with Harvey putting the pieces together. He showed me a photograph of an old and gaunt man with a bent back, the last owner of Windhaven Manor before it was sold after his death. He had to be the man with the bent back from the ceremony in the dungeon, but I could not be certain. I never saw his face. Of the faces I did see, we knew Crown and Kyle and Hugo, but the others were harder to pinpoint.
At the end of it all Harvey sighed. There was nothing more we could do. But we could rest on the knowledge that the key players in the ceremony were all now dead.
Questions nagged at me. Where was Ally and what was she doing? Would she try to find me? Who was she working for?
That was the biggest question of all. Who was at the top and pulling the strings? Harvey wasn’t giving up. He was a dog with a bone at the best of times, and now he had a taste of blood. He refused to go back to the police even after Crown’s departure, which he described as the removal of a cancerous limb.
Harvey called me after the dust settled on everything. I told him that the trail had gone cold and I had no idea where Ally was. For all I knew she had evaporated into thin air. Harvey thought it unlikely, and I agreed. He told me it was time for some old-fashioned detective work. The names of the goons would be a start.
And there was something else Harvey mentioned, something that I had almost forgotten. He had always believed that his investigation into the disappearance of the girls was the reason one of his colleagues was murdered. Crown confirmed as much in the bedroom right before he was shot. Harvey thinks there is something to it. Another thread to pull, and he has a hunch. For now he’s keeping his cards close to his chest until he has some proof. I almost pressed him on the issue but decided I’d rather put it all behind me.
The story made headlines in the local press for a while, but ultimately it fizzled into a non-story, quickly forgotten by a public with a short attention spans. We all waited for a reckoning from within the police ranks, but it never came. Harvey predicted that’s the way it would go, and he was proven right.
The one item they did recover was a gold necklace with a heart pendant. The necklace Jane Laughlin wore the night of her death. The police found it where the black van had parked. After a few days in the possession of the police, Harvey arranged to have the necklace released to the family of its former owner.
The following day Mr. and Mrs. Laughlin appeared on the local news, thanking the efforts of those who recovered the remains of their daughter. It was closure, though not the kind they had hoped for. Both their girls were dead.
A week later The Séance Club convened in Beth’s apartment. Parker and Juliet were already there when I arrived. It was cathartic to talk about the events at Windhaven Manor, to compare stories and scars. I guess that’s why they have the saying about a problem shared.
After a brief silence, Beth asked, “Are you going to talk to the parents of Jane and Kylie?”
I shook my head. “What will I tell them?”
“That their daughters found each other out by the cliff edge.”
“And what about the agony of their deaths? Should I tell them that too? Besides, it doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right to me yet. And what weight do my words hold over those of some Priest talking about how he knows their souls are at rest.”
“Because you really do know.”
I shrugged. “I can’t prove any of it.”
Truth was I had no idea how to integrate the things I could see and do into my life. From childhood all I had wanted was to be like everyone else. For people not to stare or whisper as I walked by. To find acceptance. Sitting with my three new friends at Beth’s tiny kitchen table, with our shared experience behind us, I finally had it. This could be the start of something.
Parker was already planning the next Séance Club trip. An abandoned farm up north with mysterious sightings going back centuries. Juliet was already on board. I told them to wait. I couldn’t jump back in right away.
I was the last to leave, Beth and I sipping mug after mug of coffee and sharing comfortable silence. When I sighed and told her I should go, she grabbed my arm.
“I’ve never had a real family, and then I found Juliet and Parker. The Séance Club became my family. Whatever happens we are there for each other. And we mean it when we say we want you to join.”
I thought about that all night, unable to sleep.
The next morning I called Parker.
An abandoned farm up north you say?
* * * *
I navigated to the narrow alley and checked the time. The Exchange should be open. It looked out of context in the Saturday morning light. No bright light spilling from the window. No surge of Friday night after work traffic.
I slipped in the front door. A lone man lifted upturned stools down from the bar. He had his back to me and I crept across the hardwood floor in the direction of the stairs down and the bathrooms.
The vibration swelled in my chest, but I did not fear it. A dull pain rose in the base of my skull, but I gritted my teeth. A man wearing a pair of rough leather shoes came from the other end of the corridor and stopped before me.
“Are you here to help?”
I nodded.
X
2023.05.29 16:30 kcr141 Searching For Common Threads 9: The Dark Forest
First Previous Next
Esen:
When we landed at the primary research site, it was quiet at last. As I unstrapped myself and began to stand up, I started forming a list in my mind of all the tasks that would need to be completed.
As a first order of business, I walked over to the other side of the flight deck and began to inspect the hull breach. The hole that had been formed in the side of our ship was smooth on the inside. There was no evidence of any tearing or fragmenting, rather, the metal appeared to have been melted.
“You know,” I said, “I don’t think this was from kinetics fire. It looks like a laser did this.”
“It was a laser,” Tsavolyn replied. “I could see the beam.”
“I mean, it makes sense ‘cause we were moving away from them so quickly.”
At this, commander Taylor spoke up:
“That reminds me, did I hear you correctly when you said that those attackers were pulling twelve G’s?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
“They… that’s not… they can’t do that, that should be lethal!”
“I know,” I said. “Maybe those two ships never had a crew to begin with, however, they weren’t acting like they were computer controlled either. Honestly, I’m even more impressed they didn’t damage their warp drives or stall their reactors pulling those kinds of maneuvers.”
“Unfortunately, we’ll have to worry about that later,” commander Taylor responded, “right now, we need to get our own drive back in order.”
The three of us began to make our way down to the cargo hold. Once there, I found the nearest control panel and instructed the cargo bay doors to open. Sunlight flooded into the compartment.
The first thing that jumped out at me was that, unlike Earth’s spaceports, our landing pad seemed to be entirely makeshift. The bay doors led directly out onto a platform surrounded by guard rails and supported by a steel lattice structure. From there, a set of stairs connected the platform to the concrete floor below. Besides the platform in front of us, there was a concerning lack of service structures.
Then, I saw the rest of the world beyond the guard railing. The human-built structures gave way to rolling grassy hills with forests and mountains visible in the distance. From our vantage point, an abandoned alien city could be seen as well. The city was the reason for the outpost’s construction and was also the only obvious indicator that this was not Earth.
“It may not be quite what you’re used to,” commander Taylor said, “but according to the outpost’s inventory, everything you need should be here.”
I went over my mental checklist again before speaking:
“Alright. So… I need to swap out proto-segments three, seven, nine, fourteen, and… eighteen. We should probably start with three since that one’s kinda the whole reason we landed at all.”
“What is special about segment three?” Tsavolyn asked.
“Proto-segment three is all the way inside of the warp drive’s primary ring,” I answered. “We experimented with other designs that were easier to service, but none could match the efficiency of our current approach. So unfortunately, in order to get to segments one through four, you have to partition them and extract the surrounding buffer. It takes special machines to do this because the drive becomes inoperable if the buffer leaks out.”
“Plus,” I added, “that stuff is toxic and it aerosolizes at standard pressure.”
“We didn’t pack our own equipment because it’s very heavy and we wanted to stay maneuverable in order to give ourselves the best chance of survival,” Taylor said plainly.
The three of us climbed down to the ground and began our preparations.
“I’m going to need some way to get up top to the primary ring,” I remarked.
“There should be an articulated lift here somewhere,” commander Taylor responded. “I can get that set up while you go find any other tools you might need.”
“Alright,” I said. The three of us parted, Tsavolyn traveling with Taylor while I headed in the opposite direction towards the edge of the spaceport. The researchers had set up a collection of temporary shelters and storage units. These structures were built out of flexible plastic supported by metal framework, they were more like habitats than buildings.
Once inside one of the shelters, it was obvious that the outpost was abandoned in a hurry. A variety of tools and electronics lay strewn about on top of a foldable table along with a half eaten bowl of oatmeal and a tablet.
Out of curiosity, I picked up the tablet and powered it on. When the screen lit up a dim orange color and displayed alien text, I realized that the device was of tynaksian design; evidence of the expedition’s cooperative nature.
After turning the tablet off, I set it back where I found it and then got to work. I managed to find a small tool bag and began packing it with everything I would need. I took a set of wrenches, a small flashlight, and a multitude of powered screwdrivers. I also packed a set of pliers along with extra bolts and wires in case any got lost or damaged. As I was searching through various storage drawers, I caught a glint of something gold and shiny. I reached in and produced a roll of PI tape. Remembering the hull breach on the flight deck, I packed the tape as well.
The next couple hours were spent tediously replacing each of the modified warp drive components. Accessing proto-segment three was a delicate process that involved attaching several cables and hoses to the drive’s primary ring, engaging multiple safety mechanisms, and then having commander Taylor activate the extraction machine from the ground.
After segment three, the rest were fairly straight forward. I would simply unbolt a panel somewhere, replace the proto-segment, and then put the panel back. When that was done, I went back inside the ship and used the PI tape to patch up the hole in the side of the flight deck. I also realized, upon further inspection, that the laser beam responsible for the hull breach had continued on its path and damaged one of the control interfaces.
To prevent any complications, I disconnected the damaged interface and then began a diagnostic on each of the components that had been replaced. After that, I headed back outside, finding commander Taylor and Tsavolyn admiring the alien landscape.
“I’m running a diagnostic on each segment,” I told them. “Once that’s done, we should be good to go!”
“Alright,” Taylor responded, “let me know when—”
As he spoke, the commander turned around to face me before stopping mid sentence.
After a moment of silence, I realized that Taylor was staring at something behind me. Cautiously, I turned around and followed his gaze.
An alien stared back at me. Their skin looked like it was composed of very small scales, so they definitely weren’t tynaksian. Looking directly at them, their scales were a crisp white color, however, when the sunlight hit them at an angle, they took on a faint violet hue. The alien wore a strange cyan-colored uniform inscribed with markings that were barely visible, and they seemed to be carrying a small crate full of electronics.
Since they weren’t tynaksian, that currently only left one option:
This was a raknin, probably one from the enemy fleet.
As soon as I had that realization, the alien dropped the crate they were holding and bolted in the opposite direction.
“Hey, wait!” commander Taylor shouted before taking off after them.
The raknin had already reached the other end of the launch pad by the time I recovered from my initial shock. I too began to chase after the commander and our alien visitor with Tsavolyn following close behind.
The concrete floor ended and our chase continued through the tall, lush grass. The ground grew steeper and before I knew it, the raknin and commander Taylor had both disappeared over the top of a hill.
Reaching the top of the hill myself revealed both a large valley as well as the alien’s intended destination. A raknin spacecraft sat tucked away at the bottom of the valley, concealed previously by the surrounding hills.
Taylor was gaining on the fleeing alien, and as they neared the bottom of the hill, the commander leapt forward. He collided with the raknin and the two of them tumbled the rest of the way down.
The alien quickly recovered and continued running. Commander Taylor took longer to get his bearings allowing me and Tsavolyn to catch up with him.
From there, it was a dead sprint to the spaceship.
When they reached the base of the rocket, the raknin scaled a ladder leading up to the cargo hold.
We weren’t far behind.
When I made my way to the top, officially boarding the alien craft, I was greeted with the sight of commander Taylor tackling the alien to the ground.
The alien tried to escape but couldn’t. As they struggled, the commander managed to look at me and shout:
“Tape! Tape! Give me the Tape!”
Tape?
And then I remembered: I still had the polyimide tape!
I opened the tool bag and retrieved the roll of tape I had used to repair the hull breach. I tossed the roll to Taylor and then helped hold the raknin down while he restrained them.
Once the alien was immobile, I stood up and took a step backwards. As I did so, my hand collided with a hard surface and I cried out in pain.
I turned around to see what I had hit, but there was only empty space in front of me. Confused, I looked down at the back of my hand.
There were burn marks.
Tsavolyn:
While Esen and Taylor were handling the fleeing raknin, I had the wherewithal to check if there were any other crewmates aboard the rocket.
I had been on a couple of raknin spacecraft before, but this one was different. It was like the whole interior had been emptied out and replaced with a strange metal lattice. This lattice was densely packed with hundreds of some kind of tetrahedron-shaped device. These devices covered every wall and ceiling. Even the floors were nothing more than a thin metal grating with more of the strange instrument underneath.
It looked like this vessel had been turned into some kind of detector array. I wasn’t sure what kind of array this was or why this had been done, but I figured the flight deck might hold some answers.
Besides us, the ship turned out to be empty; the raknin we encountered had flown here alone. When I reached the bridge, the first thing I noticed was a message displayed on several of the control interfaces warning of damage to the electrical systems.
I picked one of the control interfaces and sat down. As I was in the process of opening the diagnostics menu, Esen came in.
“Hey, do you think you can communicate with our new friend?”
“Probably,” I answered, “but I can’t guarantee that she’ll cooperate”
“I’m hoping they’re at least willing to tell us what they have down in the cargo hold,” He said.
“If you’re referring to all the devices on the walls, I can probably figure that out from here. I have some experience with these ships from before our falling out with the raknins. If I open the diagnostics interface, it will list every subsystem on the ship’s network.”
“Yeah, finding out what those are would also be helpful,” Esen said.
“Also? I thought the hold was otherwise empty.”
“Oh no,” Esen replied, “there’s definitely something in the middle of the cargo hold. We’re not sure what it is because it’s invisible.”
“Invisible?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “It’s surrounded by some kind of cloaking field. Also, the field isn’t safe to touch.”
Esen held up his hand revealing burn marks on both sides.
“Okay, that’s strange. Wait, you touched it twice?” I asked.
“Science has to be repeatable,” he said with a chuckle.
“Okay, I have the diagnostics menu up. It looks like they have… actually I’m not sure how to say this in English. It’s a type of particle, low mass, no charge, emitted during nuclear processes…”
“It’s not in the nucleus of atoms, right?” Esen asked.
“That’s right,” I answered.
“You’re probably thinking of neutrinos then.”
“That sounds correct,” I responded. “In that case, this ship has an array of neutrino detectors.”
“That’s probably what the things on the wall are for then,” Esen said.
“That would be my guess as well. Okay, this I don’t recognize.”
“What is it,” he asked.
“It’s a system listed as ‘frame capture,’ and I have no idea what that means.” I said.
“Could that have to do with our strange object?”
“Maybe?” I answered. “I’m not sure though because this is listed along with the warp drive and the drive complement.”
After a moment of contemplation, I selected ‘frame capture’ and ran a basic, full subsystem diagnostic.
After a few moments, I heard the ship’s reactor change output modes followed by the unmistakable rumble of the warp drive activating. This was confirmation that whatever the frame capture system was, it had something to do with the FTL drive, however that still left a lot of questions unanswered. I had never encountered it before, so it was either new technology or something that had been kept secret.
The diagnostic continued without issue until suddenly, a warning flashed on the screen. I didn’t have time to read it before the control interface went dead. The warp drive powered down along with the reactor leaving us in total silence.
“Hey!” commander Taylor shouted from below, “You two should get down here!”
Esen and I made our way down to the cargo hold. The spaces between the flight deck and the hold were dark now as, apparently, the entire spacecraft had lost power. Fortunately, the cargo bay doors were still open and thus the deck was illuminated with sunlight.
When we reached the hold, we both stopped in our tracks. Something was definitely different.
“Whatever you did caused it to become visible,” commander Taylor said.
He was right. In the center of the room sat a strange metallic object. It had a thick outline in the shape of a dodecahedron, however, the space in the middle was filled with a forest of thin metal strands. It was spiky, messy, and in some way, almost organic.
“Can you ask the raknin what this is?” Taylor asked.
I glanced over at the pilot thoroughly restrained with the shiny, high performance tape. She was staring at the now-visible object, and the fear in her eyes was contagious.
I looked at her and saw myself as a kid lost in the woods.
“Hey, are you alright?” the commander asked.
“Sorry, I’m fine,” I said. “I think the silence is getting to me again.”
submitted by kcr141 to HFY [link] [comments]
Esen:
When we landed at the primary research site, it was quiet at last. As I unstrapped myself and began to stand up, I started forming a list in my mind of all the tasks that would need to be completed.
As a first order of business, I walked over to the other side of the flight deck and began to inspect the hull breach. The hole that had been formed in the side of our ship was smooth on the inside. There was no evidence of any tearing or fragmenting, rather, the metal appeared to have been melted.
“You know,” I said, “I don’t think this was from kinetics fire. It looks like a laser did this.”
“It was a laser,” Tsavolyn replied. “I could see the beam.”
“I mean, it makes sense ‘cause we were moving away from them so quickly.”
At this, commander Taylor spoke up:
“That reminds me, did I hear you correctly when you said that those attackers were pulling twelve G’s?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
“They… that’s not… they can’t do that, that should be lethal!”
“I know,” I said. “Maybe those two ships never had a crew to begin with, however, they weren’t acting like they were computer controlled either. Honestly, I’m even more impressed they didn’t damage their warp drives or stall their reactors pulling those kinds of maneuvers.”
“Unfortunately, we’ll have to worry about that later,” commander Taylor responded, “right now, we need to get our own drive back in order.”
The three of us began to make our way down to the cargo hold. Once there, I found the nearest control panel and instructed the cargo bay doors to open. Sunlight flooded into the compartment.
The first thing that jumped out at me was that, unlike Earth’s spaceports, our landing pad seemed to be entirely makeshift. The bay doors led directly out onto a platform surrounded by guard rails and supported by a steel lattice structure. From there, a set of stairs connected the platform to the concrete floor below. Besides the platform in front of us, there was a concerning lack of service structures.
Then, I saw the rest of the world beyond the guard railing. The human-built structures gave way to rolling grassy hills with forests and mountains visible in the distance. From our vantage point, an abandoned alien city could be seen as well. The city was the reason for the outpost’s construction and was also the only obvious indicator that this was not Earth.
“It may not be quite what you’re used to,” commander Taylor said, “but according to the outpost’s inventory, everything you need should be here.”
I went over my mental checklist again before speaking:
“Alright. So… I need to swap out proto-segments three, seven, nine, fourteen, and… eighteen. We should probably start with three since that one’s kinda the whole reason we landed at all.”
“What is special about segment three?” Tsavolyn asked.
“Proto-segment three is all the way inside of the warp drive’s primary ring,” I answered. “We experimented with other designs that were easier to service, but none could match the efficiency of our current approach. So unfortunately, in order to get to segments one through four, you have to partition them and extract the surrounding buffer. It takes special machines to do this because the drive becomes inoperable if the buffer leaks out.”
“Plus,” I added, “that stuff is toxic and it aerosolizes at standard pressure.”
“We didn’t pack our own equipment because it’s very heavy and we wanted to stay maneuverable in order to give ourselves the best chance of survival,” Taylor said plainly.
The three of us climbed down to the ground and began our preparations.
“I’m going to need some way to get up top to the primary ring,” I remarked.
“There should be an articulated lift here somewhere,” commander Taylor responded. “I can get that set up while you go find any other tools you might need.”
“Alright,” I said. The three of us parted, Tsavolyn traveling with Taylor while I headed in the opposite direction towards the edge of the spaceport. The researchers had set up a collection of temporary shelters and storage units. These structures were built out of flexible plastic supported by metal framework, they were more like habitats than buildings.
Once inside one of the shelters, it was obvious that the outpost was abandoned in a hurry. A variety of tools and electronics lay strewn about on top of a foldable table along with a half eaten bowl of oatmeal and a tablet.
Out of curiosity, I picked up the tablet and powered it on. When the screen lit up a dim orange color and displayed alien text, I realized that the device was of tynaksian design; evidence of the expedition’s cooperative nature.
After turning the tablet off, I set it back where I found it and then got to work. I managed to find a small tool bag and began packing it with everything I would need. I took a set of wrenches, a small flashlight, and a multitude of powered screwdrivers. I also packed a set of pliers along with extra bolts and wires in case any got lost or damaged. As I was searching through various storage drawers, I caught a glint of something gold and shiny. I reached in and produced a roll of PI tape. Remembering the hull breach on the flight deck, I packed the tape as well.
The next couple hours were spent tediously replacing each of the modified warp drive components. Accessing proto-segment three was a delicate process that involved attaching several cables and hoses to the drive’s primary ring, engaging multiple safety mechanisms, and then having commander Taylor activate the extraction machine from the ground.
After segment three, the rest were fairly straight forward. I would simply unbolt a panel somewhere, replace the proto-segment, and then put the panel back. When that was done, I went back inside the ship and used the PI tape to patch up the hole in the side of the flight deck. I also realized, upon further inspection, that the laser beam responsible for the hull breach had continued on its path and damaged one of the control interfaces.
To prevent any complications, I disconnected the damaged interface and then began a diagnostic on each of the components that had been replaced. After that, I headed back outside, finding commander Taylor and Tsavolyn admiring the alien landscape.
“I’m running a diagnostic on each segment,” I told them. “Once that’s done, we should be good to go!”
“Alright,” Taylor responded, “let me know when—”
As he spoke, the commander turned around to face me before stopping mid sentence.
After a moment of silence, I realized that Taylor was staring at something behind me. Cautiously, I turned around and followed his gaze.
An alien stared back at me. Their skin looked like it was composed of very small scales, so they definitely weren’t tynaksian. Looking directly at them, their scales were a crisp white color, however, when the sunlight hit them at an angle, they took on a faint violet hue. The alien wore a strange cyan-colored uniform inscribed with markings that were barely visible, and they seemed to be carrying a small crate full of electronics.
Since they weren’t tynaksian, that currently only left one option:
This was a raknin, probably one from the enemy fleet.
As soon as I had that realization, the alien dropped the crate they were holding and bolted in the opposite direction.
“Hey, wait!” commander Taylor shouted before taking off after them.
The raknin had already reached the other end of the launch pad by the time I recovered from my initial shock. I too began to chase after the commander and our alien visitor with Tsavolyn following close behind.
The concrete floor ended and our chase continued through the tall, lush grass. The ground grew steeper and before I knew it, the raknin and commander Taylor had both disappeared over the top of a hill.
Reaching the top of the hill myself revealed both a large valley as well as the alien’s intended destination. A raknin spacecraft sat tucked away at the bottom of the valley, concealed previously by the surrounding hills.
Taylor was gaining on the fleeing alien, and as they neared the bottom of the hill, the commander leapt forward. He collided with the raknin and the two of them tumbled the rest of the way down.
The alien quickly recovered and continued running. Commander Taylor took longer to get his bearings allowing me and Tsavolyn to catch up with him.
From there, it was a dead sprint to the spaceship.
When they reached the base of the rocket, the raknin scaled a ladder leading up to the cargo hold.
We weren’t far behind.
When I made my way to the top, officially boarding the alien craft, I was greeted with the sight of commander Taylor tackling the alien to the ground.
The alien tried to escape but couldn’t. As they struggled, the commander managed to look at me and shout:
“Tape! Tape! Give me the Tape!”
Tape?
And then I remembered: I still had the polyimide tape!
I opened the tool bag and retrieved the roll of tape I had used to repair the hull breach. I tossed the roll to Taylor and then helped hold the raknin down while he restrained them.
Once the alien was immobile, I stood up and took a step backwards. As I did so, my hand collided with a hard surface and I cried out in pain.
I turned around to see what I had hit, but there was only empty space in front of me. Confused, I looked down at the back of my hand.
There were burn marks.
While Esen and Taylor were handling the fleeing raknin, I had the wherewithal to check if there were any other crewmates aboard the rocket.
I had been on a couple of raknin spacecraft before, but this one was different. It was like the whole interior had been emptied out and replaced with a strange metal lattice. This lattice was densely packed with hundreds of some kind of tetrahedron-shaped device. These devices covered every wall and ceiling. Even the floors were nothing more than a thin metal grating with more of the strange instrument underneath.
It looked like this vessel had been turned into some kind of detector array. I wasn’t sure what kind of array this was or why this had been done, but I figured the flight deck might hold some answers.
Besides us, the ship turned out to be empty; the raknin we encountered had flown here alone. When I reached the bridge, the first thing I noticed was a message displayed on several of the control interfaces warning of damage to the electrical systems.
I picked one of the control interfaces and sat down. As I was in the process of opening the diagnostics menu, Esen came in.
“Hey, do you think you can communicate with our new friend?”
“Probably,” I answered, “but I can’t guarantee that she’ll cooperate”
“I’m hoping they’re at least willing to tell us what they have down in the cargo hold,” He said.
“If you’re referring to all the devices on the walls, I can probably figure that out from here. I have some experience with these ships from before our falling out with the raknins. If I open the diagnostics interface, it will list every subsystem on the ship’s network.”
“Yeah, finding out what those are would also be helpful,” Esen said.
“Also? I thought the hold was otherwise empty.”
“Oh no,” Esen replied, “there’s definitely something in the middle of the cargo hold. We’re not sure what it is because it’s invisible.”
“Invisible?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “It’s surrounded by some kind of cloaking field. Also, the field isn’t safe to touch.”
Esen held up his hand revealing burn marks on both sides.
“Okay, that’s strange. Wait, you touched it twice?” I asked.
“Science has to be repeatable,” he said with a chuckle.
“Okay, I have the diagnostics menu up. It looks like they have… actually I’m not sure how to say this in English. It’s a type of particle, low mass, no charge, emitted during nuclear processes…”
“It’s not in the nucleus of atoms, right?” Esen asked.
“That’s right,” I answered.
“You’re probably thinking of neutrinos then.”
“That sounds correct,” I responded. “In that case, this ship has an array of neutrino detectors.”
“That’s probably what the things on the wall are for then,” Esen said.
“That would be my guess as well. Okay, this I don’t recognize.”
“What is it,” he asked.
“It’s a system listed as ‘frame capture,’ and I have no idea what that means.” I said.
“Could that have to do with our strange object?”
“Maybe?” I answered. “I’m not sure though because this is listed along with the warp drive and the drive complement.”
After a moment of contemplation, I selected ‘frame capture’ and ran a basic, full subsystem diagnostic.
After a few moments, I heard the ship’s reactor change output modes followed by the unmistakable rumble of the warp drive activating. This was confirmation that whatever the frame capture system was, it had something to do with the FTL drive, however that still left a lot of questions unanswered. I had never encountered it before, so it was either new technology or something that had been kept secret.
The diagnostic continued without issue until suddenly, a warning flashed on the screen. I didn’t have time to read it before the control interface went dead. The warp drive powered down along with the reactor leaving us in total silence.
“Hey!” commander Taylor shouted from below, “You two should get down here!”
Esen and I made our way down to the cargo hold. The spaces between the flight deck and the hold were dark now as, apparently, the entire spacecraft had lost power. Fortunately, the cargo bay doors were still open and thus the deck was illuminated with sunlight.
When we reached the hold, we both stopped in our tracks. Something was definitely different.
“Whatever you did caused it to become visible,” commander Taylor said.
He was right. In the center of the room sat a strange metallic object. It had a thick outline in the shape of a dodecahedron, however, the space in the middle was filled with a forest of thin metal strands. It was spiky, messy, and in some way, almost organic.
“Can you ask the raknin what this is?” Taylor asked.
I glanced over at the pilot thoroughly restrained with the shiny, high performance tape. She was staring at the now-visible object, and the fear in her eyes was contagious.
I looked at her and saw myself as a kid lost in the woods.
“Hey, are you alright?” the commander asked.
“Sorry, I’m fine,” I said. “I think the silence is getting to me again.”
2023.05.29 16:29 YukiteruAmano92 There Will Be Scritches Pt.98
Previous Interlewd XXVII Next First
---Job---
---Lhamo’s perspective---
---2686 Terran Calenda27 years BF---
I watch the British woman of FrancoJapanese parentage stride from the floor of the Parliament of our (recently capitulated) enemies.
She is surrounded by four of the most physically imposing Humans I’ve ever seen! Not one of them less than 210cm!
I suppose, when our army numbers in the hundreds of billions, finding one-in-a-millions isn’t too hard(!)
Me and the rest of her retinue fall in behind her as she passes through the vomitorium and turns to my left, her right, towards her temporary office.
As large in stature as the durasteel clad soldiers are, they do not compare to the woman’s android husband, 230cm tall and, from the sound of his bare footfalls, a few hundred kilos in mass!
We reach the door of the (newly designated) office of the Terran Representative and she snarls “You four, guard the door…” addressing her bodyguards “…Ezra, Zurab, Lhamo, inside… Everyone else, piss off and find something to do!”
The door closes behind us.
“Bug sweep, darling…” says the woman, exhaustedly.
“No bugs detected.” answers her husband, instantly.
She slumps onto the chair that had to be brought from our ship after the one provided by the Parliament collapsed under her weight the first time she sat in it.
Tilting her head back, she asks “So… how did I do?”
“You did wonderfully, sweetheart.” answers Ezra, immediately, in his flat, serene cadence.
She reaches a hand out to one of his and says “Thank you, darling! You are my rock… but I was really asking these two…” gesturing at me and the KartveloTamil man with her other hand.
“My opinion…” smiles Mudaliar “…pitch perfect! No notes!”
“Agreed.” I concur.
She leans her elbows onto the table in front of her, quickly removing them when she hears its groans of protest.
“There’ll be a lot of people back home who think that we let them off too easy… who’ll think that we should have pulled a fucking Versailles on their arses!” she muses.
“A punitive Peace would foster resentment in the gardenworlder populace… They would feel as if their leaders stabbed them in the back by surrendering… Not to mention giving ammunition to antideathworlder bigots!… We need future generations of gardenworlders to think their ancestors were wrong to declare War on us, not wrong to sue for Peace…” I remind her.
“Enumerating their various hypocrisies, warcrimes and the many violations of their own laws that they perpetrated serves that end well… Hundreds of trillions of GU citizens, who personally had little to nothing to do with the War, suddenly finding their salaries cut in half to pay our War reparations would very much be counter to it(!)… Let us hope that demanding the most heinous warcriminals be remanded to Terran custody to stand trial placates the sabre rattlers back home…” adds Mudaliar.
“Yes, but…! I don’t know… I feel like we should have got something more from them!… Instructions on how to reproduce their more advanced tech, maybe…?”
Mudaliar purses his lips in a joyless smile and shakes his head “We just (relatively handily) defeated them in a War with technology centuries behind theirs… Their tech is not something we can ask them to trust us with yet… we need to build their trust first. It’s going to take time… It’s going to take…”
*Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock*
“What!?” snarls Miyazaki to whatever poor unfortunate soul is requesting entry.
One of the towering guards, in their sleek, state of the art durasteel, enters.
“Apologies for the interruption, Mistress Miyazaki… There’s a delivery for you. Already been scanned for explosive, biological and chemical agents etc… It’s clean.”
“A delivery…?” she says, screwing up her face in a mixture of confusion and contempt for a moment before shifting to appraisal and beckoning wordlessly.
The towering man enters the room and stands to one side, revealing a small woman with pink skin, purple tendrils covering her scalp, three teal eyes and three legs with one too many joints.
The girl looks terrified as she walks in, a levitating platform following behind her with a heavy looking cube (around a metre wide, deep and tall) on top.
Looking as if she might be about to burst into tears from her fear, the pink skinned girl holds out a holo toward Miyazaki (though still around 8m away) and says “C-c-could you… s-s-s-sssign h-here, p-please?”
“What am I signing for?” asks Miyazaki, flatly.
“Th-this?” says the scared delivery girl, gesturing at the glossy cube.
Fury flashes across Miyazaki’s face and, before she can traumatise the poor girl, I step in.
“I think what our Representative means is that we weren’t expecting a delivery… Would you mind telling us what this is?” I say, kindly, smiling (without teeth) down at the girl.
“I-it’s… a d-data drive…?” she asks more than tells.
A data drive!?
That’s absurd!!!
With how insanely advanced their computing is, a physical storage device this large would represent several multiples of all the information Humanity has ever set to page!
“What’s on this data drive, sweetie?” I smile, trying not to betray any of my desperate curiosity to her.
“It’s a c-compendium… of a-all Galactic Union t-technologies and ssscience…”
The room stands in stunned silence for 9 straight seconds while we all process what the little xeno girl just said.
She shifts uncomfortably, looking at Miyazaki and, clearly, unwilling to approach her.
Shellshocked, I eventually manage to say “I… can… sign… for that…”
Looking relieved, she hands me her holo and a stylus.
I scrawl out my name in the abugidic script of my native Tibetan, my hand then making a second pass on the line, adding the vowel markers.
The girl looks thoroughly relieved not to have had to get any closer than she is to the intimidating woman behind the desk, in the formal blue dress.
I hand the device back to her and she uses it to direct the platform to unload its cargo.
She does not wait to be dismissed, beating a hasty retreat from the room, leaving behind the single most valuable object ever possessed by Terrankind!
---2687 Terran Calenda26 years BF---
“We need gardenworlders!” growls Miyazaki, frustratedly, as we pore over the plans for the new agency we’re trying to design “This needs to be more than just the Terran embassy to the GU and vice versa! It needs to set the tone for all our interactions moving forward! We need qualified gardenworlders, ready, willing and able to work alongside the Terran staff! Helping us build our networks and win over potential allies in the Parliament!”
“Yes… well… unless you want to kidnap a complement of gardenworlders to staff it as forced labour, then our choices are open it with a Terran dominated staff and hope we can entice more gardenworld employees at a later date or delay it… again!” points out a weary Mudaliar.
“Guys…” I interject, equally wearily “…I think we’re past the point of productivity for this evening… how about we call it quits and come back to it with fresh eyes, tomorrow?”
“Good idea…” he answers.
The two of us begin getting up but Miyazaki says “Wait…”
We turn to look at her, expectantly.
“How about we go out tonight?… No shoptalk, I promise!…Just think it might be good for us to have a night to cut loose… just the four of us… five, if that hot, young nurse you’re dating wants to come, Zurab?”
Mudaliar smiles “I appreciate the offer… but I really need to sleep… Raincheck?”
“Fair enough… Lhamo?”
I hesitate, considering.
---later---
“Wooooo! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots shots SHOTS!!!” shouts a merry Miyazaki as she and I raise small glasses of weak spirits to our lips, in a booth in the xeno bar, and tip them down our throats.
Her android husband mimics the action with an empty glass.
She slams her glass onto the table and releases a sigh as she slumps against the padded seatback.
Her expression turns slightly melancholic as she says “Y’know… I don’t know if I’m the right woman for this job…”
“You are.” replies her husband, instantly, almost displaying an emotion for a second there(!) “The fact that you were appointed above all other potential candidates should prove your fitness for the role. They could have chosen anyone and they chose you.”
“I agree with your husband… but what makes you say that, Jeanne?” I query.
“IIIII don’t knooow…” she grumbles “…I sort of feel like I was chosen on the strength of my reputation… and my parents’ reputation for ferocity… but, the thing is, while my mum and my shitstain of a father could give a fiery speech, they also had all the other skills you need to be a diplomat as well!… I feel like I’ve got one skill and it’s scaring people!”
“That’s why I’m here, sweetheart.” smiles Ezra, serenely “You’re the stick and I’m the carrot…”
“Thank you, darling… It’s just… much as I hate to give that man the credit… difficult not to think that my father would’ve done a better job if he’d managed to make it hear without getting his ship blasted out of the sky!”
While I have far more sense than to ever say it, it’s absolutely apparent that the husband Jeanne ‘Blitz’ Miyazaki commissioned for herself is, in all ways, the polar opposite of the late father she despises!
I only ever knew him by his reputation but; where her father was a passionate firebrand, Ezra is calm, measured and tranquil.
Where her father was a gorgeous heartthrob who became a handsome silver fox in his later life, her husband (while certainly not ugly) is definitely much plainer in his looks.
Where her father famously favoured flamboyant modern dress, her husband’s wardrobe looks straight out of a Unification era vid in its conservativeness.
Where her father had a slight frame and a diminutive stature, her husband is tall and solidly built.
And, where Yuki ‘Blizzard’ Miyazaki famously left his wife, Charlotte ‘Guerre’ d’Aureville , after a scandalous extramarital affair with Tombe ‘Breeze’ Upash (another (obviously married) diplomat, no less!) in a move that would have sunk the career of anyone else in his line of work, Ezra certainly seems as if he only has eyes for her!
Several times, she has expressed the thought that raising her half sister, Emiko, to be a decent person is the only good thing that man ever did!
My rumination on that is cut short, before I can answer her imposter syndrome, when she says “You ever consider the diplomat track, Lhamo?”
I give a rueful smile as I answer “I’d need a spouse for that, Jeanne(!)”
Her eyebrows raise in surprise as she says “Oh… you’re ace? I didn’t realise…”
I chuckle and shake my head “Not ace… just 42 with crowsfeet…” I gesture to the corners of my eyes “…I feel like, if I were going to meet Mr Right, it would have happened by now(!)”
“Bah…!” she dismisses, letting out her Francophone side for a second(!) “…None of this ‘too old to find love’ tripe! You’re still a stunner!… Not to mention an intelligent, vibrant woman with a fantastic personality!…Plus… we’re this close to cracking regen!… Pretty soon, 42 will be the new 25… along with every other age over 25(!) You’ve got all the time in the world!… It’d be really great to be able to hand this job off to you or Zurab!… Either of you’d do better than me, I’m sure!… I could go back to Earth, safe in the knowledge that things were being taken care of!”
“Ma’am…” I lean forward and reassuringly pat her wrist “…I promise you, you are the best person for the job… certainly at the moment, anyway!… Please grace us with your presence for a few more years at least!”
She chuckles “How about you get the next round and we’ll make a toast of it(!)”
I smile back “No problem… but I don’t think we’ll be allowed anymore of these…” I gesture to the, one-per-customer, shot glasses.
“Vinjirian ale… 900ml.” says the woman, immediately.
“I will take an empty 900ml glass.” states her husband.
“Got it.” I smile.
“Don’t drink any until Ezra can run chem analysis on it… Don’t want to get drugged!” she reminds me, seriously.
“I promise I won’t!” I chuckle, walking away.
“Oh, and watch him pour! Make sure he doesn’t spit in it or anything!” she adds, a little louder than she needs to but not loud enough that I think the large, porcine, xeno barman will have heard her.
I cross the crowded bar and step to the counter.
“Two Vinjirian ales and an empty glass, please… 900ml, all. Pretty sure you have our waivers for it already.” I smile, with closed lips, up at the orange xeno with the piglike face.
He oinks an acknowledgement and starts pouring.
As I watch him, I notice myself being noticed by a xeno at the far end of the bar.
I don’t turn to look but keep track of him in my periphery while my foveal focus rests, squarely, on the drinks being drawn.
He stands.
“Fuck…” I whisper to myself.
There’s one of two reasons a xeno is likely to be approaching me: either, he’s going to angrily vent at me about how I’m a monster and caused him to lose X number of loved ones in the War… or he’s about to test the rumours about Human promiscuity…
I’m not particularly in the mood for either but I really hope it’s the latter… I don’t know that I would trust the proprietor to take my side if one of his gardenworld patrons gets belligerent.
As the man approaches, he occupies more and more of my attention to the point that, even though I’m looking right at them, I wouldn’t necessarily see if our drinks were tampered with!
Good thing I’ve got a walking laboratory back at my table(!)
The gigantic man has now made it to within a metre of me on my left and stands, looming over me.
Despite the fact that I know, if push came to shove, I could probably put his head clear through the countertop without too much trouble, it’s still uncomfortable to have such a large person so close.
The first words the man speaks catch me completely off guard.
“It’s been a while, Dr Yeshe… I’m very glad to see you again!” comes a warm, familiar voice, speaking Gangsri accented Tibetan and sounding a bit like a Human with a blocked nose.
My head whips left and up, my eyes resting upon a very recognisable patch of smooth, flat, periwinkle coloured skin between two large, orange eyes.
I haven’t seen this man since I was transferred to Forward Operations, 4 years ago!
My joy is so immediate and genuine that I momentarily forget to restrain my smile, so as not to be perceived as making an aggressive display!
He doesn’t flinch at the brief flash of my teeth I involuntarily give him.
“Well, well, well, well, well!… If it isn’t my favourite prisoner of War(!) What a pleasant surprise, Wing Commander!” I say, my voice joyful.
Then, my face falls as I notice the dark blue bruise across his right eye.
“What happened to your eye, Ong?!” I ask, ready to demand the name and badge number of whatever guard it was that did that to him… then remembering that we’re no longer on Gangsri!
He casts his eyes down and shamefully confesses “It’s… not ‘Ong’ anymore… and it’s not ‘Wing Commander’ either… I’m just Ngngomg, now…”
It takes a second before the pieces click together for me.
I gasp as I realise “*Hhhhh*…You were expelled from your tribe?!”
He answers with a doleful Terran nod.
“Because you defected?”
“Just got released here, yesterday… went to my embassy… found my tribal representative… he punched me… told me not to come back to Gollogng… and… here I am…” he gestures around the bar “…drowning my sorrows(!)”
“That’s terrible, On…Ngngomg! I’m so sorry!!!”
“It’s fine…” he lies “…I’ve got some preWar savings to live on for the moment… should also be due two years salary from the GU military… but who knows when or if I’ll ever see that, given how my service ended!”
“They don’t count time spent as a POW to be time you served?” I query.
He puffs through his lips before answering “They do not, no… certainly not when you became a POW by treason!”
“Is… is there anything I can… do?” I offer, pathetically.
He gives a joyless curl of his lips and answers “Sweet of you to offer but… there’s really nothing to be done… Anyway… it was nice seeing you…” and turns to walk a way.
“Wait!” I say, a little more desperately than I mean to.
He turns back, one of his dark blue eyebrows raised quizzically.
“How would you like a job?”
“A job…?” he frowns “A job doing what?”
“Let me buy you a drink and… we can tell you all about it at my table…”
---
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---
Previous Interlewd XXVII Next First
Dramatis Personae
submitted by YukiteruAmano92 to HFY [link] [comments]
---Job---
---Lhamo’s perspective---
---2686 Terran Calenda27 years BF---
I watch the British woman of FrancoJapanese parentage stride from the floor of the Parliament of our (recently capitulated) enemies.
She is surrounded by four of the most physically imposing Humans I’ve ever seen! Not one of them less than 210cm!
I suppose, when our army numbers in the hundreds of billions, finding one-in-a-millions isn’t too hard(!)
Me and the rest of her retinue fall in behind her as she passes through the vomitorium and turns to my left, her right, towards her temporary office.
As large in stature as the durasteel clad soldiers are, they do not compare to the woman’s android husband, 230cm tall and, from the sound of his bare footfalls, a few hundred kilos in mass!
We reach the door of the (newly designated) office of the Terran Representative and she snarls “You four, guard the door…” addressing her bodyguards “…Ezra, Zurab, Lhamo, inside… Everyone else, piss off and find something to do!”
The door closes behind us.
“Bug sweep, darling…” says the woman, exhaustedly.
“No bugs detected.” answers her husband, instantly.
She slumps onto the chair that had to be brought from our ship after the one provided by the Parliament collapsed under her weight the first time she sat in it.
Tilting her head back, she asks “So… how did I do?”
“You did wonderfully, sweetheart.” answers Ezra, immediately, in his flat, serene cadence.
She reaches a hand out to one of his and says “Thank you, darling! You are my rock… but I was really asking these two…” gesturing at me and the KartveloTamil man with her other hand.
“My opinion…” smiles Mudaliar “…pitch perfect! No notes!”
“Agreed.” I concur.
She leans her elbows onto the table in front of her, quickly removing them when she hears its groans of protest.
“There’ll be a lot of people back home who think that we let them off too easy… who’ll think that we should have pulled a fucking Versailles on their arses!” she muses.
“A punitive Peace would foster resentment in the gardenworlder populace… They would feel as if their leaders stabbed them in the back by surrendering… Not to mention giving ammunition to antideathworlder bigots!… We need future generations of gardenworlders to think their ancestors were wrong to declare War on us, not wrong to sue for Peace…” I remind her.
“Enumerating their various hypocrisies, warcrimes and the many violations of their own laws that they perpetrated serves that end well… Hundreds of trillions of GU citizens, who personally had little to nothing to do with the War, suddenly finding their salaries cut in half to pay our War reparations would very much be counter to it(!)… Let us hope that demanding the most heinous warcriminals be remanded to Terran custody to stand trial placates the sabre rattlers back home…” adds Mudaliar.
“Yes, but…! I don’t know… I feel like we should have got something more from them!… Instructions on how to reproduce their more advanced tech, maybe…?”
Mudaliar purses his lips in a joyless smile and shakes his head “We just (relatively handily) defeated them in a War with technology centuries behind theirs… Their tech is not something we can ask them to trust us with yet… we need to build their trust first. It’s going to take time… It’s going to take…”
*Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock*
“What!?” snarls Miyazaki to whatever poor unfortunate soul is requesting entry.
One of the towering guards, in their sleek, state of the art durasteel, enters.
“Apologies for the interruption, Mistress Miyazaki… There’s a delivery for you. Already been scanned for explosive, biological and chemical agents etc… It’s clean.”
“A delivery…?” she says, screwing up her face in a mixture of confusion and contempt for a moment before shifting to appraisal and beckoning wordlessly.
The towering man enters the room and stands to one side, revealing a small woman with pink skin, purple tendrils covering her scalp, three teal eyes and three legs with one too many joints.
The girl looks terrified as she walks in, a levitating platform following behind her with a heavy looking cube (around a metre wide, deep and tall) on top.
Looking as if she might be about to burst into tears from her fear, the pink skinned girl holds out a holo toward Miyazaki (though still around 8m away) and says “C-c-could you… s-s-s-sssign h-here, p-please?”
“What am I signing for?” asks Miyazaki, flatly.
“Th-this?” says the scared delivery girl, gesturing at the glossy cube.
Fury flashes across Miyazaki’s face and, before she can traumatise the poor girl, I step in.
“I think what our Representative means is that we weren’t expecting a delivery… Would you mind telling us what this is?” I say, kindly, smiling (without teeth) down at the girl.
“I-it’s… a d-data drive…?” she asks more than tells.
A data drive!?
That’s absurd!!!
With how insanely advanced their computing is, a physical storage device this large would represent several multiples of all the information Humanity has ever set to page!
“What’s on this data drive, sweetie?” I smile, trying not to betray any of my desperate curiosity to her.
“It’s a c-compendium… of a-all Galactic Union t-technologies and ssscience…”
The room stands in stunned silence for 9 straight seconds while we all process what the little xeno girl just said.
She shifts uncomfortably, looking at Miyazaki and, clearly, unwilling to approach her.
Shellshocked, I eventually manage to say “I… can… sign… for that…”
Looking relieved, she hands me her holo and a stylus.
I scrawl out my name in the abugidic script of my native Tibetan, my hand then making a second pass on the line, adding the vowel markers.
The girl looks thoroughly relieved not to have had to get any closer than she is to the intimidating woman behind the desk, in the formal blue dress.
I hand the device back to her and she uses it to direct the platform to unload its cargo.
She does not wait to be dismissed, beating a hasty retreat from the room, leaving behind the single most valuable object ever possessed by Terrankind!
---2687 Terran Calenda26 years BF---
“We need gardenworlders!” growls Miyazaki, frustratedly, as we pore over the plans for the new agency we’re trying to design “This needs to be more than just the Terran embassy to the GU and vice versa! It needs to set the tone for all our interactions moving forward! We need qualified gardenworlders, ready, willing and able to work alongside the Terran staff! Helping us build our networks and win over potential allies in the Parliament!”
“Yes… well… unless you want to kidnap a complement of gardenworlders to staff it as forced labour, then our choices are open it with a Terran dominated staff and hope we can entice more gardenworld employees at a later date or delay it… again!” points out a weary Mudaliar.
“Guys…” I interject, equally wearily “…I think we’re past the point of productivity for this evening… how about we call it quits and come back to it with fresh eyes, tomorrow?”
“Good idea…” he answers.
The two of us begin getting up but Miyazaki says “Wait…”
We turn to look at her, expectantly.
“How about we go out tonight?… No shoptalk, I promise!…Just think it might be good for us to have a night to cut loose… just the four of us… five, if that hot, young nurse you’re dating wants to come, Zurab?”
Mudaliar smiles “I appreciate the offer… but I really need to sleep… Raincheck?”
“Fair enough… Lhamo?”
I hesitate, considering.
---later---
“Wooooo! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots shots SHOTS!!!” shouts a merry Miyazaki as she and I raise small glasses of weak spirits to our lips, in a booth in the xeno bar, and tip them down our throats.
Her android husband mimics the action with an empty glass.
She slams her glass onto the table and releases a sigh as she slumps against the padded seatback.
Her expression turns slightly melancholic as she says “Y’know… I don’t know if I’m the right woman for this job…”
“You are.” replies her husband, instantly, almost displaying an emotion for a second there(!) “The fact that you were appointed above all other potential candidates should prove your fitness for the role. They could have chosen anyone and they chose you.”
“I agree with your husband… but what makes you say that, Jeanne?” I query.
“IIIII don’t knooow…” she grumbles “…I sort of feel like I was chosen on the strength of my reputation… and my parents’ reputation for ferocity… but, the thing is, while my mum and my shitstain of a father could give a fiery speech, they also had all the other skills you need to be a diplomat as well!… I feel like I’ve got one skill and it’s scaring people!”
“That’s why I’m here, sweetheart.” smiles Ezra, serenely “You’re the stick and I’m the carrot…”
“Thank you, darling… It’s just… much as I hate to give that man the credit… difficult not to think that my father would’ve done a better job if he’d managed to make it hear without getting his ship blasted out of the sky!”
While I have far more sense than to ever say it, it’s absolutely apparent that the husband Jeanne ‘Blitz’ Miyazaki commissioned for herself is, in all ways, the polar opposite of the late father she despises!
I only ever knew him by his reputation but; where her father was a passionate firebrand, Ezra is calm, measured and tranquil.
Where her father was a gorgeous heartthrob who became a handsome silver fox in his later life, her husband (while certainly not ugly) is definitely much plainer in his looks.
Where her father famously favoured flamboyant modern dress, her husband’s wardrobe looks straight out of a Unification era vid in its conservativeness.
Where her father had a slight frame and a diminutive stature, her husband is tall and solidly built.
And, where Yuki ‘Blizzard’ Miyazaki famously left his wife, Charlotte ‘Guerre’ d’Aureville , after a scandalous extramarital affair with Tombe ‘Breeze’ Upash (another (obviously married) diplomat, no less!) in a move that would have sunk the career of anyone else in his line of work, Ezra certainly seems as if he only has eyes for her!
Several times, she has expressed the thought that raising her half sister, Emiko, to be a decent person is the only good thing that man ever did!
My rumination on that is cut short, before I can answer her imposter syndrome, when she says “You ever consider the diplomat track, Lhamo?”
I give a rueful smile as I answer “I’d need a spouse for that, Jeanne(!)”
Her eyebrows raise in surprise as she says “Oh… you’re ace? I didn’t realise…”
I chuckle and shake my head “Not ace… just 42 with crowsfeet…” I gesture to the corners of my eyes “…I feel like, if I were going to meet Mr Right, it would have happened by now(!)”
“Bah…!” she dismisses, letting out her Francophone side for a second(!) “…None of this ‘too old to find love’ tripe! You’re still a stunner!… Not to mention an intelligent, vibrant woman with a fantastic personality!…Plus… we’re this close to cracking regen!… Pretty soon, 42 will be the new 25… along with every other age over 25(!) You’ve got all the time in the world!… It’d be really great to be able to hand this job off to you or Zurab!… Either of you’d do better than me, I’m sure!… I could go back to Earth, safe in the knowledge that things were being taken care of!”
“Ma’am…” I lean forward and reassuringly pat her wrist “…I promise you, you are the best person for the job… certainly at the moment, anyway!… Please grace us with your presence for a few more years at least!”
She chuckles “How about you get the next round and we’ll make a toast of it(!)”
I smile back “No problem… but I don’t think we’ll be allowed anymore of these…” I gesture to the, one-per-customer, shot glasses.
“Vinjirian ale… 900ml.” says the woman, immediately.
“I will take an empty 900ml glass.” states her husband.
“Got it.” I smile.
“Don’t drink any until Ezra can run chem analysis on it… Don’t want to get drugged!” she reminds me, seriously.
“I promise I won’t!” I chuckle, walking away.
“Oh, and watch him pour! Make sure he doesn’t spit in it or anything!” she adds, a little louder than she needs to but not loud enough that I think the large, porcine, xeno barman will have heard her.
I cross the crowded bar and step to the counter.
“Two Vinjirian ales and an empty glass, please… 900ml, all. Pretty sure you have our waivers for it already.” I smile, with closed lips, up at the orange xeno with the piglike face.
He oinks an acknowledgement and starts pouring.
As I watch him, I notice myself being noticed by a xeno at the far end of the bar.
I don’t turn to look but keep track of him in my periphery while my foveal focus rests, squarely, on the drinks being drawn.
He stands.
“Fuck…” I whisper to myself.
There’s one of two reasons a xeno is likely to be approaching me: either, he’s going to angrily vent at me about how I’m a monster and caused him to lose X number of loved ones in the War… or he’s about to test the rumours about Human promiscuity…
I’m not particularly in the mood for either but I really hope it’s the latter… I don’t know that I would trust the proprietor to take my side if one of his gardenworld patrons gets belligerent.
As the man approaches, he occupies more and more of my attention to the point that, even though I’m looking right at them, I wouldn’t necessarily see if our drinks were tampered with!
Good thing I’ve got a walking laboratory back at my table(!)
The gigantic man has now made it to within a metre of me on my left and stands, looming over me.
Despite the fact that I know, if push came to shove, I could probably put his head clear through the countertop without too much trouble, it’s still uncomfortable to have such a large person so close.
The first words the man speaks catch me completely off guard.
“It’s been a while, Dr Yeshe… I’m very glad to see you again!” comes a warm, familiar voice, speaking Gangsri accented Tibetan and sounding a bit like a Human with a blocked nose.
My head whips left and up, my eyes resting upon a very recognisable patch of smooth, flat, periwinkle coloured skin between two large, orange eyes.
I haven’t seen this man since I was transferred to Forward Operations, 4 years ago!
My joy is so immediate and genuine that I momentarily forget to restrain my smile, so as not to be perceived as making an aggressive display!
He doesn’t flinch at the brief flash of my teeth I involuntarily give him.
“Well, well, well, well, well!… If it isn’t my favourite prisoner of War(!) What a pleasant surprise, Wing Commander!” I say, my voice joyful.
Then, my face falls as I notice the dark blue bruise across his right eye.
“What happened to your eye, Ong?!” I ask, ready to demand the name and badge number of whatever guard it was that did that to him… then remembering that we’re no longer on Gangsri!
He casts his eyes down and shamefully confesses “It’s… not ‘Ong’ anymore… and it’s not ‘Wing Commander’ either… I’m just Ngngomg, now…”
It takes a second before the pieces click together for me.
I gasp as I realise “*Hhhhh*…You were expelled from your tribe?!”
He answers with a doleful Terran nod.
“Because you defected?”
“Just got released here, yesterday… went to my embassy… found my tribal representative… he punched me… told me not to come back to Gollogng… and… here I am…” he gestures around the bar “…drowning my sorrows(!)”
“That’s terrible, On…Ngngomg! I’m so sorry!!!”
“It’s fine…” he lies “…I’ve got some preWar savings to live on for the moment… should also be due two years salary from the GU military… but who knows when or if I’ll ever see that, given how my service ended!”
“They don’t count time spent as a POW to be time you served?” I query.
He puffs through his lips before answering “They do not, no… certainly not when you became a POW by treason!”
“Is… is there anything I can… do?” I offer, pathetically.
He gives a joyless curl of his lips and answers “Sweet of you to offer but… there’s really nothing to be done… Anyway… it was nice seeing you…” and turns to walk a way.
“Wait!” I say, a little more desperately than I mean to.
He turns back, one of his dark blue eyebrows raised quizzically.
“How would you like a job?”
“A job…?” he frowns “A job doing what?”
“Let me buy you a drink and… we can tell you all about it at my table…”
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Dramatis Personae
2023.05.29 16:28 AutoModerator Todd Valentine - Verbal Academy (The Program)
Chat +447593882116 (Telegram/Whatsapp) to get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy.
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Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
submitted by AutoModerator to CompletedToddV [link] [comments]
Todd Valentine's Verbal Game Academy Course will teach you his top strategies for effective communication.
Todd V is known for the extreme high quality of his content. In Todd V - Verbal Game Academy you will learn how to:
Be the guy that speaks to her emotions
How to walk up with absolute confidence
Make conversation FUN and PLAYFUL
How to ignite her sex drive
GET HER on a deep emotional level
To get Todd V - Verbal Game Academy contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116
2023.05.29 16:26 Best-Editor-6384 Forced to go to college instead of Uni
Alright so basically, in grade 12 I set my mind on computer science, It was what I wanted to major in but what held me back was the math. I don’t know what school is like where you are but in Ontario we have 3 levels for each class Workplace, College, University. self explanatory but the level you took is what pathway you’d most likely take. In grade 9 I took everything a Uni level and around second semester I feel into some deep deep depression, it was just stuff from my past and it caused my grades to slip, especially in math. moving on to grade 10 I took everything Uni level expect math, I took that at a college level and continued to do so until grade 12. With that being said I don’t know if any uni’s would have accepted me with college level math on my transcript. I told my mum about computer science and after going to the mosque and talking to some auntie, that auntie told her to send me to college first as it would be better on my resume and experience wise so at the end my mum forced me to go to college first like I was out with my friends and she literally applied to it for me without telling me it’s not something I was interested at all but she told me i’d be better. I am currently at my first year in college and it’s for Networking- Switching and Routers and imma transfer to a bachelors of comp sci after these 2 years (it’s only for a diploma) I was going through a rough mental state and feeling lost so I reached out. I was debating transferring after my first year which was this april because I don’t feel like this is where I wanna waste another year and I want to go to a university already to actually do what I want to do because I feel like i’m wasting my time here so I rather go to a uni for 4 years and not waste another day here. I know I can’t get into a top CS school program like Waterloo or UofT as they don’t accept transfers. but I can definitely try for York University or Ryerson, not a big name but it’s a CS major regardless and it’s competitive. i’m in some dead college, definitely struck my ego. It’s like idk what to do rn, on one hand my mum wants to me finish this and I’m a year in with a year left so I feel like a year woulda been wasted plus a drop out on my record, it’s shit. But on the other hand This isn’t what I want to do at all like there are some CS classes but a lot are useless too. It’s stressful cos this combined with so much family pressure going on im actually stressed out. I feel like I sold myself short, even if I wasn’t accepted I rather know that and have that closure then thinking about what could’ve been. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining but with everyone talking about the competition in computer science nowadays, I feel like I won’t make it in the field or I’ll be left behind as all my other high school classmates keep elevating.
submitted by Best-Editor-6384 to TorontoMetU [link] [comments]