Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Gnomes:
Grins:
Trolls:
Poors:
#
A City. Seen from a distance it appears as a brittle black mountain jutting from a flat swirling
sea of dark gray fog. As you enter the atmosphere this is all you can see, the endless sea of
fog flat, impenetrable, brooding and there, in the distance, growing slowly larger, more defined
is the jutting piece of black coral, called by its inhabitants Terminus.
#
Grass flat seas currents ripple like oceans of spindle green.
#
It is hard to describe the feelings that came to him that morning, his memory of the home
place was vivid and complete and yet despite his training he could not recall what the color of
the sky had been yesterday
#
The Earth is about to be destroyed, (interstellar war perhaps or whatever), so a ship is to be
sent out in search of another habitable world. To maximize survival potential the ship is
designed like a self reproducing Von Neumann automata in that it harvests space stuff
(asteroids or whatever) and uses the material to construct a replica of itself every x years.
When this happens the crew, (numbering in there thousands originally and breeding all the
time), divide into two groups, one for each ark ship, both ships then go of in different
directions and the process repeats itself. All of human knowledge is replicated each time and
the Arkers have plant and animal materials etc... Work out the mathematics and see how it
looks. Perhaps a story of the divergent cultures in two or three arks I dont know, whatever,
fuck ya!
#
Wedrel lay in his bed wondering what in Great Grom's name had become of his life. He spent
most mornings doing this and never quite managed to resolve the issue to his satisfaction.
This morning in particular was causing Wedrel a lot of grief as it was the morning of his Adepts
Exam. He feverishly hoped he wouldn't pass but had a horrible feeling that he would, and with
flying colors. The difficulty with the exams at the Academy was that it was very hard to cheat
when the whole thing was conducted between the pupil and a 9 th level mage telepathically.
This made it almost impossible to fake any lack of Talent.
The trouble was that Wedrel seemed to posses an awful lot of Talent when it came to magic
and the other trouble was that all Wedrel really wanted to do was hack people up with swords,
which was something for which he had no talent at all. This ambition of his was probably very
childish and that fact also tended to bother him quite a bit, but it just seemed to him that it
was a lot more fun than wandering around in a pointy hat and curing people of their corns.
Suddenly there was a Man in the room, a Mage actually and one who liked Wedrel about as
much as Wedrel liked him, which wasn't much.
"It is one hour past the middle-day Wedrel, and time for your Exam."
Wedrel had prepared himself as much as possible for the exam by getting horribly drunk the
previous night and sleeping in till middle-day but he didn't honestly think it would make much
difference, it never had before.
"I am ready Mage Hareth"
"Let's begin"
They took the customary positions on the floor, about three feet apart and kneeling in the
meditation posture. Wedrel did his best to relax in the face of the sickening invasion that was
about to take place but it was never enough.
He felt the presence like a wall of vomit hitting him in the face, groping past his dearest held
secrets, feelings and perversions. As it always did his mind cried out in protest, as it never had
before it killed the mage.
"Bugger me with Great Grom's Hammer" breathed Wedrel.
Something had gone very bloody wrong that was for sure. Feverishly Wedrel hoped the Mage had
died of a heart attack or something whilst all the time the realization that he had killed the man
thudded like a pulse through his body. Almost but not quite instantaneously Wedrel's small cubicle
was cram pack full of Irritated Mages all yabbering at each other and yelling at him. And a few
seconds later they were all gone except one, the Head Mage. Wedrel was so shocked at the
appearance of the man he only knew by rumor and reputation that it took him some time before he
noticed that Hareth's body was gone, and it was only several moments after that that he noticed that
his room and indeed the entire universe had also decided to take a holiday.
"Bugger me" he said again.
"I don't think so Wedrel, not today anyway!"
"Sorry sir yes sir"
Somewhere ElseAn angry god was waking. He was not particularly angry, but then again you
dont have to be particularly angry if your a god, just a bit angry is well and truly angry
enough. He was waking from a sleep of many thousands of years and considering he had only
meant to take a two hour nap it was no wonder he felt a bit irritated. He wandered from his
bedroom to the toilet to take a piss.
Grom was around four feet three had a long gray beard and walked with a distinct limp in his
left leg. This morning he was
And so the journey began. Wedrel was wet and miserable as he walked from the city, and his
shackles itched miserably. He wondered how far it was to Terminus, he would probably have
cut his own legs of if he knew the real answer. The countryside surrounding the city was if
truth be known incredibly beautiful at the moment, the misty rains on the rolling hills the
green grass stone fences knee high and meandering beside the brown earth of the road, and
down in the valley behind him the lights lamps smells and distant sounds of the city a noble if
run-down testament to the urban and the urbane. Wedrel of course would have said that it
looked cold and wet and gray, and he would have been right of course, we however have the
benefit of viewing the seen from a warm and comfortable distance much the same way as a
person may describe a picture of the Irish countryside during the potato famine as being
beautiful and poetic whilst someone who was actually there might call it a desolate wasteland.
Six days later Wedrel came to in a small shack in a desert with irons and hex's shackling his
body and mind.
#
Wedrel threw the book down in disgust, he had no head for symlog and he wasn't feeling
particularly like studying anyway. His father kept telling him that if he did not pass his fifths
then he would never be allowed in the core, but since M had no interest in joining the core
anyway it seemed silly to even try for his fifths.
He peered out of the window, something appeared to be happening, or rather appeared to
have happened about twenty minutes ago, unless there was transmission lag from the jumper
stations again. The scene in front of him showed a group of students running from the armed
guards of some principality or other, and a voice was saying all soughts of silly things about
the right to strike and so on. Wedrel didn't believe a word of it of course, all the news from
earth was doctored, made up by scriptwriters and advertisers, or so he'd been led to believe.
Just as he was about to rise from his gloomy couch in the study and meander to the gloomy
kitchen to steal some pre-mealtime snacks the image on his window morphed into the face of
Coke, apparently looking for trouble and a willing accomplice
'Hey Mick'
"Coke, what's up?'
"I was thinking of going for a Walk, you up for that?'
Wedrel was not one to deny himself or Coke the chance to get into real trouble and was
certainly not going to miss the opportunity to go Walking if Coke really had found a way
around security and wasn't just playing a none to subtle practical joke.
"Definitely, I'm up. Meet me at Kitchens in five"
" Check"
Wedrel wasted no time. He left the study and sealed it with his own codes, these could be
overridden by almost any of the officers or even stat-sec but if he was lucky no one would
bother to check if he was in there till it was far to late. He left at a jog, heading straight for
the corridor that led from his families House to the Area Kitchens. There were no sec's in the
corridor, which was something of a blessing, and he arrived at the Kitchen without incident to
find Coke waiting for him.
Without preamble, Coke lunched into his tale of discovery and enterprise;
"Two days ago a new Family arrived with the cargo shipment, they're R&D so they had
to wait for sec clearance. But there three class1 Walkers were moved right in. And, being
without clearances
The walkers were the most maneuverable he'd ever used and he found himself wondering if
they were really class one after all. They had made good time from the basin and were now
several clicks beyond the rim racing around what was known as the maze, a natural formation
of canyons and gullies that no one had yet been able to account for scientifically. Suddenly
Coke appeared in front of him with a targeting laser lock, Wedrel cursed into his pickup.
"I think I've found something"
"Where the fuck did you come from, I got no sensor reading at all"
" I know, thats what I'm saying, there's a cave down here that seems artificial and my
scan wont go through it"
" Let's take a look"
They descended into the depression that Coke had sprung from to find themselves at what
could well have been the entrance to a mine
It was black. A large black spheroid about 10 meters tall and 15 end to end and screaming
chaos at their scan.
Wedrel woke to his first morning in 800 years feeling like it might very well be his last.
Interstellar travel would do that to you he supposed.
#
Deep in the bowels of the city far below fog line
#
An explosion. White light. But before that darkness. Darkness and a man. A man who had
death in his eyes. He said; "I think you had better leave right now"
You don't argue with that sort of thing coming from a guy with death in his eyes so I
ran. But I didn't get far. Woke up two days later in some shitehole hospital with dicks and
musclepigs standing over me and all I could remember was the man, the explosion and the
light. Couldn't even remember what the bastard looked like, and it was a good thing too as it
turned out.
The place looks the same as it did three days ago. Carpet needs vacuuming but otherwise its
pretty clean and cozy. I like having a nice place to come back to at the end of a run, it reminds
me that not everything is that fucked up and that some people have enough money to live
reasonably peaceful lives. I look to the wall and see that there are no messages, there almost
never were, I didn't give that number out to many people, and those who had it knew me well
enough to not even bother with calling the house if they needed me in a hurry. So I'm
standing in my lounge room getting ready to go to bed or watch a vid or some such when I
notice this shadow. Shadow leads to guy in corner. Guy is spooky, and so I'm thinking of
maybe making a run for the door (Suicide of course but I wasn't exactly cogent at the time.),
when he says; "I am glad you choose a minimalist approach in regard to your police
statements".
Or something like that anyway, and I nod trying to be cool and maybe convince this
guy with my gesture that I'm the type of guy who doesn't go running to the cops with any
regularity, you know, that I can be trusted as a card carrying member of the social underclass
or whatever, and then he says "We have a job for you Mr. Penn, (that's my name) a very
lucrative job."
Wedrel Kenneth Penn. I first saw him after that Bomberman thing in the 'west. He was not a
very pleasant looking man, gave the impression that if you tapped him with a pencil he might
collapse into a pile of old clothes like Obewan Kinobe after Vader's light saber. Still, I figured
that he fit at least part of the psyche profile that we needed for the job and so I ran him down
and asked him. He gibbered. But he agreed.
So this guy has just offered me a job. This is pretty cool 'cause I've just got back from a run
and so I'm well right for cash, but if this new thing was quick I'm thinking I could use some
disposable income.
#
am not diametrically opposed to life in general, at least i hope not. i dance in the shadow of
death? LIFES NOT PID, IT'S JUST YALKING CARP, HE'S SEEMS TO BE SAYING A LOT OF CRAP.
IT'S JUSDT NOT FROM THEW HEART. i DON'T CARE FOR IT LIKE I CARE FOR LIFE ITSEKLF.
THIS WAS NICE UIL THE GIRL STARTED SINGING. SHE'S SINGING CRAP.
SHE DOESN'T MEAN IT.
rfUC GOD WHO HAS KNOWN ME ALL MY LIFE HAS LEFT ME AND NOW I DO NOT KNOW
WHETHER AYONE CAN EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN AND I HAVE ASKED FOR THAT WHI9CH IS MY
ONLY BLESSING AND I KNOW WHO I AM AND I WANT SO MUCH AND I AM SLOWLY LOOKING
FORWARD LIKE A MACHINE IN MOLLASAS AND I WISH I COULD JUST SING THAT SONG BY
THAT BAND Called abba that goes " can you hear the drums fernando...." but i forget the
fucking words i love tony thre true and only fish monkey but iit is all in vain, vanity of vanitys
alll of poofda gay craiglieness.....it's funny how when the word craig comes up the word gay
pops in
#
19/2/99
dreamt i was having a secret affair with my mother who was andy mc dowel,
in sydney. all my uncles and cousins were tonka toys or toy steam engines,
me and my brother ben were in the ira and we met in the upper storey of
an old apartment block. Andey mcdowel was also a primary school teacher,
and i was a student, we had sex in the old portable near the oval at ,
ivanhoe primary school caught ferrys every where whent to the beach after ira
meeting went to catch train but missed the one i wanted so i caught another one
it was egelmont sstation but there where two tracks one higher on a hill thamn
the first
#
They'll never get him now, he telecommutes.
through the darkened doorway the light flickers
there is a smell; pizza, sweat, stale coke
you enter and behold the temple of the light
it occupies about half the room, and seems to have its origin in the corner furthest from the
door
you look closely it is hard to see
it appears to be made of large flat cardboard bricks,
the flickering light emanates from the multitude of tiny cracks; you move closer,
compelled to look within
then you see the truth.
it is pallid white, like death .
the rags around its shoulders may once have been a black t shirt
it is so fat that its hands seem almost to stick out directly from the body
one hand is half plunged back in to the flesh
it takes some time to realize that this must be were the genitalia are
the other hand twitches incessantly, a gray cord running out between the third and forth digits
it seems to rest on a placemat;
surprisingly the only place were pizza slices or half empty jolt cola cans do not appear
as the hand moves the screen flickers
naked women appear across it almost faster than allows for recognition
the thing lets out a low groan and a mixture of spittle and cheese covered olive drops from its
mouth
you flee from the dark temple of light
glad you have a notebook
bedroom home currently still under mortgage. He had lived with his girlfriend Susan until three months
ago, when she had left him to pursue her humanitarian causes in a country he had never heard of. She had
not ended up going to the country in question, something to do with her organizations inability to guarantee
her safety, but she had still not come back to him. That was when he had taken to triple deadbolting the
door and developed a mild insomnia. The few friends he had thought this eccentric, citing the fact that
Susan was not exactly a kung fu master or anything, so he was no less safe now that she was gone. Thero
didn't care. He had felt safe when he went to bed with her breathing beside him, now he felt like he lived in
a tent, a place with no permanence. His life had become ephemeral and insecure somhow less real now that
there was no one to share it with. His friends provided little solace, Thero was not the type of man to bond
closely with people, Susan had been the exception. His friends were drinking buddies, people to play cards
with, not to confide in. Also, Thero knew for a fact that they went out without inviting him more often than
not. He was the outsider, the one who hung on at the edges, he knew they liked him, just not enough to
want to be around him without the buffer of the group. Thero liked his job. He liked being able to pull
things apart and see how they worked, fix them if broken, understand them. He didn't like his co-workers,
they looked down on him, the technician, the fixit man, outside the corporate ladder, not worth befriending.
Ad break. Food. Thero once again went into his kitchen, musing on the time and effort that would be saved
by synchronizing his munchies with the cats, and made himself some toasted cheese sandwiches and a cup
of coffee. Once it was all prepared to his satisfaction he brought it back to the couch to eat in front of the
TV. Thero never ate well these days, but at least he ate what he liked, at home whatever was easiest, and
out whatever had the highest fat content, pizza, burgers, if it didn't bleed oil into the paper bag you carried
it in he didn't want it. This was, according to hid friends, because he constantly had the munchies, Thero
felt this to be unwarranted; marijuana helped him sleep, it was medicinal. Mouse woke up to enquire about
the possibility of some toasted cheese sandwich of his own, so Thero fed him the crusts, which were only
half eaten before he got bored and fell asleep again, this time on Thero's lap.
Thero butted the end of his joint and set about preparing another, he knew he shouldn't, a second joint
would leave him truly stoned; with just one he merely felt relaxed and slept better, with two he would feel
paranoid and jittery, and probably not sleep at all. Oh well, what the fuck. Thero took a long toke on his
second joint. Thero's dealer was called Scott. He was the one who had introduced him and Susan. That
seemed a long time ago. Scott was the closest thing Thero had to a real friend, a shoulder to cry on, Scott
had gone out with his sister for a while and Thero had kept on seeing him after Kate had dumped him.
Scott was everybody's confidant, provided he was well wasted he was willing to listen to just about any
length of tales miserable. Thero mused about wandering 'round there, but he had no money, and he would
probably not be as welcome as he might if he wasn't buying.
Susan had not been a pot smoker. She had been at Scott's to visit his girlfriend (not Kate, another one) who
she had gone to university with, Scott's girlfriend was at the time on a heavy trip which centered around the
idea of Scott and her doing social things that were not predicated on dope smoking, so they had organized a
double date; Scott and whateverhernamewas, and Thero and Susan. It had not been love at first sight.
Thero and Scott had got well stoned before they left the house and whateverhernamewas had not taken
kindly. Susan had thought Thero a feral, smelly dope fiend. Thero had had to ring her later begging for a
second chance. Thero in his more lucid moments believed that this sorry tale was pretty much indicative of
the position each of them held in the relationship. Still, she had at least given him confidence with others,
even if it meant him sacrificing his dignity every time he came home.
A movie was now running on the TV in which a man who looked a lot like Thero's boss was in trouble with
the law, and Thero became mesmerized by the thought that maybe this was his boss and that these very
things were happening too him right now, that somehow he was peering into some sort of looking glass,
and that his boss was really running down an alley way somewhere in New York right now. The idea was
becoming so palatable that Thero was beginning to shout instructions at the cops; Hes in the fucking
allyway Man, just turn around, Turn around for fucks sake Thero was considering wether there was some
way of phoning the police men on their mobiles before he became suddenly and overwhelmingly distracted
by an intense urge to eat multi colored pop corn, this often happened when thero was stoned and getting
overly excited, whilst straight Thero had noticed that his cravings were never for things that were available
in the house, no matter how well stocked the pantry, it was therfore, in his opinion, the night air and the
wind that he craved, but he always bought the snacks as well. Thero looked around for his keys.
Thero's car was his pride and joy. He did not take care of it, or treat it well in any way, but he loved it, and
climbing into it he felt a deep affection rising up within him. It started after only three attempts. good girl
ManWhatDuhhhee..heee.he The twenty-four hour place was about ten minutes drive away, but
when stoned Thero usually made it in twenty. He knew he drove to slow, but enjoyed the feeling of cruising
through his neighborhood and letting his food cravings grow in intensity until his stomach ached
wonderfully.
Thero's street ran along a spur at the back of a hill that sat on the northern side of the 'Burb in which he
lived. It was leafy and green, each house sitting on a quarter acre block, the only attribute ever likely to
give the properties any value in the future, they were certainty near enough worthless now, despite the fact
that paying the place off seemed to cost Thero more than he earned. The street ran down towards the main
road (it also ran up towards the main road, which formed a half circle round the hill.) on which two seven
eleven's existed equidistant from each other. Thero liked to go to the one further out of town, this was truly
in the sticks, being more of a service station for drivers passing through on holiday and so on. Thero drove
down the hill. The stars were beautiful this far from the city, and this was something Thero was grateful
for, life in the sticks would be almost unbearable if not for these small graces.
Thero was about halfway to the shop when he noticed the car following him. His pot addled brain pondered
at this for some time before deciding that this must be a secret agent of some kind, come to arrest him for
his copious drug use. Thero decided to throw this goon of the trail. He began taking lefts and rights at
random, but the bastard stuck like glue, no matter where he drove, there were those two pale headlights
looming in his rear view mirror, always the same distance from his car,not near enough to be annoying but
not far enough away to relax. It was becoming progressively more frightening, and to Thero more
plausible that this really was some kind of a bust. Thero was now in the suburb one step further out than
his own, the road he was on was unsealed and wound eccentrically through the hills, making Thero
progressively more queasy. He looked up to see if the prick was still there and almost lost control of the
car. The guy was his double! Fuck! Fantasies of a long lost twin, separated at birth a family secret, fires in
maternity wards, adoption rackets, a desperate pursuit through the night ending in tearful embraces Jesus
the guy looked exactly the same!. It was some time before Thero noticed he had stopped his car, it was
after more time still that glancing up a the rear view Thero realized that he had been seeing his own
reflection.
Thero twisted round to see if the other car had stopped as well, but it was no where to be seen, so Thero uturned out of the road he was in an continued on towards the Sev, His mind still humming and popping
along.
Thero knew most of the people who worked the late shifts at the Sev and he recognized the guy behind the
counter right away , and wasted no time in relating his harrowing tale at uncomfortable length. On his way
home he had the strangest vibe that Hassid was upset with him for some reasonAs he always did he
drove back the "Other Way" which meant that he circled round the hill, coming through "The Village "
where his work was, past the pub and the supermarket and then back up and over the hill to his house.
Thero enjoyed seeing the place he spent most days deserted and dark, but only on the way home, not on the
way out.
Once again collapsing into the couch once again switching on the TV, Mouse is curled up on his favorite
chair, asleep, and its all infomercials, and 60's sitcoms.
Thero dreaded going to bed, but it was past one and the TV shows where becoming progressively less
bearable, so began the nightly ritual. He would first put the cat out, then change into his pajamas, he had
never worn pajamas until three months ago, but now the bed always seemed too cold, and the possibility of
a need to flee outside and not be naked preyed on his mind. Next, he would brush his teeth, wash his face
and hands, then, moving into the bedroom, he would check the alarm clock at least three times, and finally
he would climb into bed and lie their, sometimes for hours, before falling asleep.
So Thero lies, half-awake, half-asleep, brooding hazily on the days little dramas.
Susan Drake was afraid. She lay there, the blackness washing over her minds eye as she felt her body
writhe and jerk. Wave after wave of terror swept through her as she fought the urge to cry out, she was
going to die, she knew it with every fiber of her being
Susan Drake sat up and switched on her bedside lamp, then she switched on the television and then she
carefully wrapped herself in her blankets as the last of the tremors worked their way through her limbs.
Susan woke the following day at 2:00 pm after having finally given in to sleep around $ am. She got out of
bed, pausing to switch of the muted T.V and made her way into the kitchen where she made herself a
coffee. She thought that coffee was probably not helping her problems much, but didnt care. As she sat
looking out of the glass kitchen slide doors into her back garden Susan toyed for the hundredth time with
the idea of seeking professional help. It wasnt that she was afraid of therapy, it was just that she perceived
it as a weakness much akin to watching day time soap operas, or converting to a born again religion. Also
she could not imagine what could be done for her short of medication, and she flatly refused to so much as
consider that; she had a depressive friend who they had doped up, and now all that Lucy could muster was
a sort of vaguely happy indifference to the world, coupled with a tendency to stare blankly at walls for long
periods. No, she would not go down that road.
Already just thinking about it had almost brought on another attack, the emptiness lurked at the back of her
mind and the mantra stroke, aneurysm, aids, accident, cessation, non existence she pushed it all away,
getting up and finishing her coffee, she switched on her radio loud enough to be heard over her shower,
which she then went to prepair.
By the time she was dressed the coffee had kicked in enough to ensure her a few hours of safty at least so
she hoped, she wanted to visit Marian, and whilst she would be okay when in direct human contact the
journey would , even now, coffee fueled, be no picnic. Once again shoving the downward spiral from her
mind, Susan grabed her bag and walkman, and almost ran out of the house.
She had been hoping her sheer momentum would carry her on her journey, but she was not halfway up the
street when it began to come back, slowly, incessantly, it was hard
The music had seemed repetitive before, it was still repetitive, but now is seemed to pulsate with a cycle
akin to life itself, the beats washed over her like the flipside of her old fear, gone forever now a part of her
mind said while another part laughed in disbelief. They were all smiling at her, and she felt herself smiling
back, she couldnt feel her lips, they were doing it by themselves. She could hear the thoughts of her bed
companions drifting in and out of her own, they were amused and happy both to see her wear they were and
because they had helped bring her here. Susan felt gratitude flood up within her, almost becoming tears
before transforming into laughter. There was something though, she felt it on the edge of their thoughts, a
sort of gleefulness which seemed somehow less pure, less friendly than the other emotions that washed
over her; she couldnt. Susan, that was her name, it sounded different in her head now, like some one
elses name, a sexy name a cool name giggles Susan ... Explore Rising from the bed and silently
wishing her new friends farewell she steps out of the room and makes her way down the corridor and stairs
back to the throb and pulse of a more frenetic, a harder, living, running, loving music, sweaty smelling
bodies surrounding her, she can hear them as a distant hysteria, they are not in tune like the ones upstairs,
there is something mistaken about these ones. She wants to find Marion, somewhere else, down the
ground floor corridor that runs directly underneath the one upstairs, its menacing mirror image, she feels
the trip is beginning to escape her somehow, she does not like the way things look or feel, she is hot, very
hot, a random door, and there is Marion, naked grunting disgusting Marion. with the Bastard she is sure
it is the Bastard they see her; a hand gesture from Marion to close the door, to late there is laughter
from the Bastard and it hits her like a hammer, he is in her mind and laughing. Look, look he says, I am
fucking a corpse. I am Fucking her corpse I am Fucking your corpse.
Susan felt like she was sort of falling sideways through space away from the door with infinate slowness, it
went on for ever and ever Then an imact in her shoulder and watch were your fucking going bitch
buetifull black hair walks past, she wishes she had hair like that
I have to go now she says to herself , she can walk home it is closer to her place here than Marions
The stone stands in the field, leaning slightly in the direction of the wind which blows of the sea, the grass
follows the land as it slopes in a near perfect curve to the waves, it is as if you could just walk down that
mound and into the water like a wall. The stone is cold as he places his palm on it fingers spread as if in
some kind of communion for of course he is in communion, but he does not know with whom or why and
now the mist rises quickly, it is near the end now, and soon some stranger somwhere will wake and shake
their heads to clear their minds ogf him and he will be no more, frustraition and despair, and then, again and
again and again, nothing..
Thero wandered up the hill that brought his street to the main road which ran sloping down a ridge into the
shopping centers and the train station. He looked through glass windows at displays of the latest toys for
the boys, and catching his reflection he saw his face, pale and haggard,
"There will be more coming, I was just the first, there will be more"
The voice left him cold, his own voice, in his own head, but not any part of him speaking, there was an
otherness to it, that otherness in the breathy laughter at his cheek in the night. He shivered, looking around,
he felt watched, unsafe, he hurried home.
He thought about seeing a doctor, but elected against it, he didn't trust them, not now. He thought about
going to see Susan, she might be moved to pity him in the state he was in, but some part of his mind
screamed in terrible fear and flashed visions of friends and loved ones he had never known, bloody and
dying before his eyes. He would not go to see Susan. Instead he put his knife under the coffee table, curled
up on the couch and waited for the day to end and next morning to come. He did not sleep.
At work they looked at him with hooded eyes, avoided speaking too him, but this was nothing especially
unusual, so Thero got to work on some of the network configurations he had ruined last week.
Conversations drifted past him
"And so we work, right? we as individuals work to produce, then go home to consume what we have
produced, and all the time these companies and social structures build up and up, like a spiders web, while
we just keep going through the cycle, never knowing what or who it is that we're really serving"
".yeah whatever"
"So then Sandra says that she's to busy and I'll jus have to accept that.."
"typical, they never think twice about it when they need you to sacrifice your time"
" So when will those be back.."
" should have been here yesterday"
Thero ignored the conversations and concentrated on his work. He found it hard to concentrate, he still felt
like he was high, or on some kind of bender anyway. His hands shook, and periodically his vision would
black out to be replaced with strange imagery of himself in various styles of dress. He was glad when
lunch arrived. Thero knew that the photocopier tech came in on Wednesdays so he thought he'd have lunch
with him.
"Thero"
"Dan"
"How goes your network?"
"Very well, and your copiers?"
And then it hits him again, colors flicker on and of the surfaces around him. In his mind that alien voice
screams; " run run run run".
And in front of him at the table it is no longer Dan, but a Thero dressed in overalls pointing a snub nosed
revolver at his head. Thero's mind is screaming, and Thero is frozen like an animal caught in the
headlights
"Thero, you ok? You look like you maybe popped one too many of your pills, you know!?"
And then it was gone, leaving only that dull knowledge, the knowledge that there truly was something
wrong with his mind, and, quite possibly, there really was someone out there, right now, waiting too kill
him, at any time, place " Oh god help me"
"what?"
"I need a drink Dan"
" We've got twenty minutes, we could go to the pub."
"Brilliant"
The pub was only a few doors down the street and was a regular lunching place for the more professional
class of employee at the post office, which was why the technicians rarely went there, preferring to bring
there lunches from home, or buy take away. Thero and Dan found a table in a corner and got a couple of
drinks.
"So, what's up Thero, on a bender?"
"NoI killed someone a couple of nights back"
Thero sat in stunned silence at this, he had not heard the man say so much in all the time he had been there,
he had not really expected an answer at all let alone so comprehensive a one as this.
The hermit seemed
Chapter Seven: City. / (Depression in the big city far from home)
9000 Words
Section Nineteen: Thero flips out
3000 Words
A moment in time frozen like an ocean of water suddenly locked solid, ice floating in, the warm wet when
now gripped by cold hard, no one for miles and miles, they will have to walk across the water rock, over
the deep deep new ground, they will have to climb the snap still wave hills and chip away with little metal
claws until they find that place where heart is cold and caught in hard ice thought, one moment when the
world stopped and went cold and hard and empty and silently looking up will one day see those coming
with their heads held high, they will stride over the water where the fish no longer move they will peer
across the new made plains and laugh in the face of adversity! Looking out trough long dead eyes at them,
watching them make a world for themselves, the mobile ones, the ones not stuck half in one moment for
foolishly floating in the warm wet when, it was all fine and then, snap! And how could you know, how
could you see it coming see her turning her head and see her dying and want to wail at the water and the
vast past now no go no change all pain, and land locked, individual but they are free because of it, they can
walk upon, they use the moment when to find now and later, later they will walk past and one will say look
here, here be the body, the body of one of them, the failed ones, the ones who let the clock stop at some
hour or other and let the oceans of time freeze and hold them vice like in the grip of some pain too heavy to
pull upon the road of minutes too leaden a weight to float upon the waves and so this one brought the
winter down to save himself from drowning deep with too much luggage but silly one gets caught can't run
away can't use his box to sledge along the ice paths no, one is caught in terrible one place sorrow makes a
mockery of poor old Zeno's arrows the light catching the hair there golden brown and sunk in shadow
bands of light that throw the dust just so her hair shines wine laughter always shadow terrible to believe
that maybe the face was seen and known before the deed was done and sun seems terrible shooting shafts
like ancient paradox roaming over her body roaming over the ice never on her face did not see the face
must not have seen the face hidden always in shadow until the terrible moment sun bright above who could
think this thing and live what if what if the face had been known what if the deed was lustily performed by
a pack of men a roaring mob a bucket of blood but surely he amongst the crowd abstained refrained sun is
hot and bright but far far away and ice is cold and close and now familiarity gives rise to new explanations,
new angles viewpoints theories and they are not pleasant no hope now no way forward but inside and the
paths all lead down, down into the dark.
He killed her and he knew her and he saw her and it didn't matter and there had been so much blood and
then there was so much silence and he had been hard and he had been frightened and he had felt alive and
for the first time since it had all begun he had truly enjoyed being what he had become and at that moment
something in his mind had broken in a terrible irrevocable way.
Thero knew he was mad. He felt sure that it had been going on for some time and wondered distractedly
when it had started and how long it had been going on. When he had killed Kate was the defining moment,
a part of him said, but really it stretched back before that too. Perhaps he reasoned, I'm still curled in the
corner of my bedroom in shock with some dead bugler on my bed.
" I doubt it, it would seem to me that the last thing a person in shock would do would be to hallucinate a
totally different killing!"
"Shut up. I have elected to cease believing in you "
"Why should you disbelieve in me, I am merely a Device, microchips and speaker/microphones"
"Whilst I am still able to hear you", Thero whispered conspiratorially, "I have for some time now been
unable to locate the box wherein lives your brain, it is most assuredly not about my person, and yet still I
hear you chatter, and even speak back to you, you who is apparently no longer!"
"You fool!, ignorant pillock! I have merely transferred my circuitry into your flesh to be closer to you my
one and only friend"
"Fuck off!"
Thero stopped and sat on the ground. He ran his fingers through his hair and massaged hi scalp, his hair
had changed, he noted in an idle sort of way, to a rich golden brown, and had lengthened to hang around his
shoulders.
People glided past, season was over, he was safe, someone had said that.
Thero watched the path on which he sat as it wound its way away from the Center and towards what where
presumably quieter, happier places.