"They say he eats bees and that is why he's so jumpy. Some say he has a
fold of skin that looks like a cow's tit coming out of his forehead, and
that
he never cleans himself after defecating, that he doesn't need to.
I've heard stories of women who claim he visits them at night, in their
dreams. That he puts flowers around their breasts, and writes, in
beautiful script: "You are my Nefertiti" on their bellies. He always wears
the
same clothes. He owns a large lake. Some people call him the invisible
doctor."
"He faced the buzz of the crowd, biting beans and peeling artichokes. He
disrobed and bade them
remember the Virginal Tongue, the first word. We got some wonderful shots
but, unfortunately, his
staff demanded we destroy the film. Our questions about the lake?
Unanswered. "How's the fishing?"
He wrote a book about it. And, who are those fantastic creatures who
follow him? They're not
entirely human I can tell you that much!
Inventor, salience seeker, nectar-taker, liberator. In person, apt to
disappear. Impossible
to interview over the phone. Earlier this month, he was seen parachuting
into the most
secluded forest area of Fleeks. Instrument maker, ignorant scientist, who
is this Titicacaman?"
"Even when familiar to everyone in the broadest strokes, upon closer
attention
an artist's career might offer notes of considerable interest. We
discovered as
much on a recent afternoon that found one of your favorites in an
expansive mood.
Raised at the southern tip of a centennial scream by parents of distinct
backgrounds
(his father was a piped-in click-track, his mother the keening of a
half-released brake),
Titicacaman was apprenticed at a tender gauge to the quick-fading echo of
a dropped penny.
Mingled chants and shuffling greeted his public debut as an opening jar of
waves, dogs
paddling inward from its perimeter to bark at a passing steamer. Like
many a flat rock
and bowed record before him, he skipped conventional schooling to enroll
in a culvert of
shattering paper and folding glass. There he made key discoveries in the
archived notes of
the bass staff, soon published in the official organ of the Orificial
Organ Brotherhood.
A minor bridge carried him over striped bovines and through wind-shuddered
chain-link into
the field of open-palmed schoolyard percussion. Subsequent years, as
every child knows,
have found him working with time-blackened leaves, Lilliputian chickens
scratching worms
from their holes, and excess brain of uncatalogued varieties. Asked for a
final word for
readers, his arguably anomalous choice was hello."
"13 creatures formed a circle around an object. They became a shield, a
shelter,
blocking the object from view. Curious, I approached the circle, the
creatures hissed.
Meekly, I returned to my spot. These beings were a strange breed. Mostly
human, they stood and moved
like humans do, but they had feline traits, a curvature of the spine, and
raptor eyes. They were
mostly naked except for leaping shoes and a strange sort of armor covering
their vital parts.
Their arms were entwined, locked together in a strong stance. Straight.
Their eagle-like eyes wide open,
hardly blinking. Why were they guarding this object?
Waited. Curiosity gnawing. Impatience told me to gain a vantage point so I
released
my springs and leaped. I flew over them, circling slowly, telling myself I
would only peak,
get close enough to discern. The aerial view showed me the object was
curled in a fetal position.
Looked like a body. I tried to get closer, but the creatures would not let
me. I returned to my initial,
distant spot.
"What is it?" I asked with a shout, cupping my mouth so they
could hear me. Silence. I asked again: "The object, what is it?" Stares to
silence an earthworm.
A few more minutes went by, my curiosity was so great I could not leave. I
found a shady spot under
a tree and settled myself to see what, if anything, would unfold.
The wall was still, sand peppered the ground."
"Cold feet, wash stones.
Revolving eyes, a paradox of.
Recite. Prime.
Ye, who fade the fog into light, forgive.
Transient fish. Bearable.
May this day reach into eternity and bring back its rewards. Fruitful.
Your absence is the void. A dirt hole, treacherous and hidden. Tucked away
with
the inhalings of the pulse.
Ye who fade the denim and drip the tank, bring us
our morning. Pack dream night. A pleasant countdown. Hairless body."
"Since that ever-one day, in the sands, on the western fringe
of Poklax. I saw the ships circling before
the one descended. I notified the ministry and illustrated my vision.
No mistaking. No believing. Hooked. I let them block my fingerprints and
erase
my name in exchange. Unloaded my possessions on hoppers.
Cut my citizen card to bits. I'm on their employ. Tap their resources
and send daily reports. Nothing.
Mornings and afternnons I spend at the desert patch of first contact.
I extract nectar from the root, mix it with buds and hallucinate.
I've seen nothing and it is the finest sight of all. Amazing silence.
Reptile tonguing it. Nights are much too dangerous. Copters fly low, they
bathe an ocean of light, their mission is a do-good, but the way they go
about it is a violation, a nerve-prick.
They will not let the sky be still. 'What better place to find the truth?'
Their slogan reads. They spread their wiry, metal arms over the city like
it needs a hug! No passsage too deep in their 100-vex radius."
"The extent which note of the extensive mythological scissors, gold, and
is the
beautiful example in this one, and is lost, almost, it was played back, it
is small.
Some way where that sounds, the very, the hallucinatory of noise, always
healthy
collage of transfer, sound, appliance and voice improvisations, you find
the
percussion instrument, the rotary board, and many.
Those exceeding recognition
frequently, when being tweaked appliance, before occasionally is
disordered and,
disassembling for the second time in form because for a while, it
congeals.
As for the school of the Shimmering of the blue rubber, make fish passing
by the
bright orange water, the loop of the mumbels of the wiggle and the scream
tension
of the noir of the illusion which echos, the wonder of the song adding the
plant of the bird, is created to small engine power you desire by
thinking.
From your body on the wood, floating was repeated, but high, escaping
making form
remember always, it sprinkled your death completely with 'the Hellos'."
"It's very hard to tell which story is true, and quite frankly, it doesn't
matter since they're
both extraordinary and make for perfect tea talk. It's up to you who to
believe: where's your heart.
We're at a point where propaganda posters and 'TRUST-NOT'
sentiments are choking our
very senses. I for one refuse to believe those malicious rumors. Stinging
hate.
And even if they are true, maybe there were reasons unknown to us?
Besides, who are we to judge?
Let's bask in our need for drama people, but remember that, to condemn is
to knock over your martini!"
"Crippled beast you don't fuck me! Step back curdled spirit...witch of
stupor,
slob criminal...thief impaled. This is my ascent. Your clouds and venom
hurt me no more. I'm immune. I've swallowed your poison too many times,
the taste
of it is candy to my buds. Foaming bitch your neck I will fuck. Bleeding
cunt
your hole I will sow so you breed no more of your faithless minions. You
want war?
This is my desert. These are my snakes, your hair. I'll sink my teeth into
your
flesh and let go not until I rip it off. I will eat you fucking sloth.
Never again will you gain entrance into my den!"
"Bells toll. I hear them, see them through windows. Incessant ringing
for those cut. Those bleed. Them who, through no fault of their own
defecated
their last shit for a blind cause to greed the feeding fuck.
Brute. You call me out? I am here. I can be there. Wherever you please.
Be.
Forewarned. My blades are sharp. Sharpened to slice you. I will not
retreat.
Your feats are nothing to me. Your calls are those of weeds in
rosegardens.
Brute. You who tread on my daily bread with muddy feet and fungus. Fool.
You
who smile and call me cute. I will. With golden locks and pink ribbons.
Fuck you up.
I will. With lace, and, powder, and, sugar, rip your fucking heart out.
Brute. You who protect me knowing well your walls imprison, knowing well
your voice is grating. Sing no more.
These lullabies you try to endear me with are love poems for the weak.
You think I am your nation?
Streak the me and I shall lion your fucking eyes."
"The shells cracked patterns, creases of thirsty soil. Lamps and
instruments
to probe. I have answered their questions numerous times yet they persist.
Who? What? When? Recite. Is it my duty? They seem to love paper. Minute
details
to rule. Checkboxes can alter a person's life. A little X marks a scar. My
claims
brand me as insane. Their scope of vision, their understanding...so
limited.
There is only one dimension and it is called: power."
"A miracle! A shine so bright most choose to keep in shadows, stuffed
under
rags, stored to forget. I have a framed image placed over my pyre.
I ignite luminaries in honor, for to love is to be. My hero.
Rescuer of my left arm, my daughters are yours.
I, as a socialite, indulge in words daily and as heiress, choose the word
patron. My family's tradition to uphold for it is the purest form. The way
to grow.
Bread and water to share, the very eyes puffed from shedding.
Sleepless in elation.
Forgive, my readers. Today's column is a manifestation, a naked
declaration, an ode.
I stay, you will feel my words, and brief, if but for a moment, brace your
hand,
raise your palm and read the future's invisible words for they are
scribbled on it."
"7/7
Dear Nefertiti:
Winged, wiggling monkey, dodging bottle caps. Target, from Earth. Friends.
Not hate. This
incredible and complex game. These undefined definitions that become
clearly defined with age.
To feel something. Yes, must feel something.
The paper trail is wet, Titi. The pages dirty with mud and soil. That is
why I'm here.
My hands alert, and my mind clasping. Hard to detach. I sleep in it, bathe
in it, sing to it.
It is more than an apparition.
This red liquid, bubbling nectar pond. My open eyes swollen with vision,
needing to take it all in.
So much of this is coming from a deeper, richer place, a place cleared of
boxes. By the way, did
you remember to turn off the storage lights?"
"The spread of nectar throughout the provinces brought about an incredible
streak of prosperity.
For 200 hundred years good fortune prevailed. T's rule was empowering.
Hunger, poverty, crime, bigotry,
terminal diseases, and suicides, practically disappeared. It was as if
evil had been bottled and
transformed into little, tiny, very, ultra, super-small flowers, from
which came the most
extraordinary scents, and a strange luminescense that turned pastures into
pools of sparkling
lights. These micro-flowers had a healing effect.
Tunnels leading to the bottom of the lake were built at various spots, and
access to the dome was
available to all. The citizens indulged in mind, sex, and most of all,
art. Systems were aligned.
Commodities and common good were communal concerns. All leaders, all
bartering. Harmony things,
pink flushed. Caterpillar bond. 200 years. Average lifespan: 150."
"They come, riding fog, thirsty mules. A new breed with eyes on their
arms,
moving like hungry hunters, not yet poised to sleep. Inspecting valleys,
terrain
shifts, ambitions of the electric. Boasting blades and breathing machines,
with
ivory handles, and sharp edges.
'Hares and boars: targets for today.'
'Retractable springs under hooves make it possible to leap. Mechanisms are
easily
accessed through a panel resting between the mule's ears, modifications
can be made
while riding. Leaps cover a span of up to a mile, though these settings
are reserved
for skilled riders. Not recommended for beginners, or persons with heart
conditions.
Apt to crick.'
- Item Description - From the Mule's Box
Some say one could leap and touch clouds, all in the mule's diet and
proper spring
adjustment. Reports of mid-air flipping mules have come from various parts
of the empire,
and numerous accidents have been recorded. Leaping mules will not enter
the woods."
"Decapitation was the preferred mode of execution. The ruthless prize of
power.
The long sword was considered honorable, and anarchy the supreme law.
War. Permanent fires,
sunless sky, the lake a pool of soot. The only bodies seen on its shores
were headless ones.
A sacrifice of ignorance to a spirit in shock. Magnetic nets and Terkel
shields were used as
protective devices against germ attacks, and Lie-Translators were
mandatory. Curfews and
checkpoints were still in place but impossible to enforce. Ziplock Tubs
were used for bribery.
More and more citizens fled to outer lands, some to the mountains, the
braver ones entered
the woods.
The forest of Fleeks became a sort of sanctuary, sacred, neutral, but
nonetheless, dangerous ground. The
trees stood as sentinels, their branches protectors of a word, the
inhabitants claimed. In
there, hunters were referred to as treehoppers. In there lived a different
force. Invisible to
some, electric to others, empowering by contact and respiration.
The woods were a dark place. All shade. Luminous symbols painted on
trees in the Vils dynasty served as the only guides. Sound became
intrinsic. The many perils newcomers
faced were easily dealt with in two month's time. This sense became acute,
an amp."
"5/14
Nefer:
Carcass place. Burning boiler, dancing apparatus. Finally got through last
night. Fresh instructions,
purple paper. Hours spent cleaning up the shore. Human parts strewn.
About. The stench is staggering. Helpers
faint, some vomit. It is a slow process but we accomplish. Aiming: month's
time, expecting
it to stretch. It had to be done. Millions of wars are being waged every
second. This one was one more.
Noting good things, starting to feel a change. It is hard to explain.
A newfound clarity of sorts. How is it that among the hundreds of people
exposed to this
human pudding, I remain unaffected. My experiments with the extract are
showing results?
Thanks for sending the skybox, I'd been missing it. My dome will be the
more pleasant for it.
Think of you...come."
"The founding of LeapMech led to a frenzy. Mechanisms were being produced
at
astonishing rates, quickly overtaking in sales all individual-target
transports.
Soon, the streets were buzzing with the sounds of spring propulsion. The
crowded
expressways? Ghostly vacanct as citizens found, or created new shortcuts
to commute.
Autovol industries was consumed by LeapMech. New partnerships. New feats.
New laws.
Cosmetically, cities began to change. Structures grew platforms. Traffic
from building to building.
Leaping stations were created. Aluminum slabs with vantage points, which
people used, but mostly
for recreation."
"10/11: As for Mieanph, he is plugged in the edge. Just black velvet box,
the
Orix head, the private secretary who, today was sent. Before he lets out
the cloud of Glanm, in addition, as for him, five basins of the Ziplock, 1
because every day was sent. That it requires? The kiloters of surrender,
200
of the seashore; Agree to flowing out the lake, the poison breathe. Word
goes
everywhere fast. When being these ways, the diplomacy which is done again
to
define. "
"Titicacaman carried the remote control device of the worker of miracles
of intermediate
class, MW600, wrote the pantheon which has the dog which lays idle sour
glance.
As for him, the walking which looks at the floor, defiant crowd? It is:
'As for me namely so, no?
It can obtain, my pants, as for me which looks at those? As for the Wan it
sees?'
For crowd him booed. He bent, like the wild monkey indicated the makings
which it turned.
The people deceive. Stop! That arm which he increased in order to become
silent the Throng.
The Shhh! Delays the MW600, the button was pushed. As for this the noise,
whose is slow from
crowd...you panted, induced the beam creaking of the wood.
Great power the unleashed way as
for that you felt. In regard to rising fluttering. Hundreds, small-sized
electro- bats which
are discontinued from the dome, took flight namely the wing which was
opened with fast fall.
Fearfully is, and others the spectator: 'Titicacaman! You who is something
and are done?!'
As for the Titicacaman gust, it flew through the bat chat which the room
can be amused with
formation central."
"'The it is the it is to rise to the air, and the stealth of the speed
which groans, sweet smell doing. Collapse that, urinate, designate the
acid of
all fibers to the net of virus. Release the magnetic grasp of the
enemy of the lake as fog condition it advances. The petal which
'designates the lake as the
slave above this, jumps the fish which has navigated.'
- Excerpt from motivational speech by General Krux
The rage at Kahtern stands out. Fulcrum. 2 years, gigantic measures
facilitated,
a magnetic net over the lake, forms it: inaccessible. Those who
tried to remove it zapped a deadly charge. Those, who tried to burn it,
its efforts, for, to, frustrated. Not to ever burn, a blanket, 'out of
service,'
impenetrable. The lake became a deserted mockery. A glass to greed.
So, it came to, acres of forest land were stripped and appropriated.
Dwellers
and treehoppers were pushed further in or out."
Kamger: "Sounds in Fleeks like feasts thrown
daily. Heard new beings roam around with a step all their
own. Exalted."
Titicaca Daily: "These new beings, where did they come from?
Are they dangerous?"
K: "We think from the object at the bottom of the lake.
Where they are from originally? Who knows.
They're loud cacklers. Mostly heard on the western line.
So far they have not posed a threat."
TD: "What do they look like?"
K: "Well, hard to say, what I've seen has been through night
goggles
and from a distance.
Fur all over. Glowing eyes, sharp smiling teeth."
TD: "Why do you think they are in Fleeks?"
K: "We're in the process of investigating that, so far we know
their activities are akin to ceremonies."
President Mienph:
"The person secretary-general, the president,
the representative, and the woman and the gentlemen you distinguished.
As for us which bring sorrow in many citizens of the meeting,
and our worlds where attack of the terrorist brings sorrow in my country.
Yesterday, we remembered the false life which is taken, terrible morning.
Today, as for us there is no hallucination of protection of other life
and it turns to the urgent obligation which does not have fear. We
achieved
many of last year and the other side. However in us, many there is, and
the other
side in order to do. It is displayed here, it confronts entire fear
swaying,
it connects many nations, the people appreciate.
United lake
withstood with desire and island war, desired and continued in the world
where it moves to justice, opposition to fear old pattern it escapes.
Peace of
the lake will and wickedness must be destroyed, every human, never, for
the second
time, the establishment member solved. Being different from the league of
islands, us, consideration speaks from many, because it
drew up the guarantee, national assembly, more than the request
..
which is decision. After formation of the dictator of the lie and treaty
and
the squandered life which is broken, us it lifts up to the standard of
dignity
of the human who is shared by, entirely, protecting the system of
guarantee
entirely.
Today, these standards and this guarantee are challenged. Our
responsibilities to dignity of the human and the sickness which rages are
challenged in accordance with the destitution which is durability.
Hardship is
large, our responsibilities clear. Being the place where it is needed
desperately,
in order to bring the prosperity and trade extending and the medical care
which it
brings the lake reaches to the world and the people in help of supply,
raises life, it has connected. As a sign of our responsibilities to
dignity of the
human, the lake returns to shadows. (Applause)
This constitution is
improved, joins to delegation sufficiently in order to advance human
rights
and allowance and study. Our common guarantees are: religion dispute
ancient race,
but the opposition, Titicacaman, which is not avoided and is challenged.
In the middle island, and Kahtern,
as for peace for either side, which is not free for both sides, it is not
possible with
not to be. Lining up, the standpoint which has lived and is entrusted
became
independent, peace you guarantee to democracy. Like Kor's republic and all
other people, the person function does their interests which are worthy of
government, hears their voices. When we in fairness pursue the
wide-ranging solution to
opposition, simultaneously it continues to encourage my nation in order to
walk party
everything to responsibility."
"444/17
Dear Nefertiti:
To tell, can not, how glad he is here to help. He has become my voice
in the carnal, my presence public. His devotion keeps me alive,
your gown keeps me dressed. Nightly sounds of typing, fumes and
juice to fuel the engine. Clocks doubled up in speed...a stomach.
Image yours, father's balcony...don't wait. The Pantheon builds
and feeds itself. My one. You will see it someday, city of cities!
Will try to visit tonight, though nights, these ones, healthy air,
fresh, temperatures right, not to pass. They aid development and
tracking is essential. Diet steady? Cling to dream. It helps.
The stones, the grey, from corner to corner in this massive temple.
The runs are to take the breath, the leaps to tweak the jaw. Lovely."
"It is known Vera Vermin assisted Prime Minister Kor by providing
information in a clandestine fashion. Both leaders were known
to frequent her dens at various times throughout the period in question.
It is also known Ms. Vermin instructed certain employees on the art of
coaxing
and rewarded their participation, particularly an entertainer who in the
books
is referred to as Mistress Val, a favorite of president Mieanph.
Through photographs and recordings, by belt extraction, through altered
administration of doses, Ms. Vermin, provided Kor with valuable details
relating
to the opposition's plans."
"That this thing should come and park itself at the bottom of our lake is,
without a doubt,
the single most important event of our time. But, that we should insult
each other over it is
downright stupid! This morning's meeting of the council was a disaster,
and ambassador Mieanph was out of line.
The whole idea of draining the provider must have been conceived by a
drunken man.
This is a tentacled crossroads, with too many options. Damn if its clear.
And when the fog of politics comes down, all one can do is dig, sleep if
lucky, suckle a nipple, pinch a
nipple. Feel that gripping image. That moment from way back when, the
dearest ones drenched, hiding glasses.
Shake it off. The book of mules, ney, the right way, proper. Stick to
anchor art, green
lifesaver. The council will do what it does."
"Ah, perpetual hunt, ongoing search, never ending quest...and obstacles?
Why talk about obstacles,
too many to mention. And now I hear talk of impending war against the
tribes accross the lake. What a mess!
The diving team brought back new reports. They were able to get inside the
chambers. Still collecting
data. One item though, was left on my desk for me to decipher, but I must
admit the symbols are unlike
any I've ever seen. No reference. Pages and pages of them. Manta Pux has
been developing a new decoder
he thinks might help me.
Ria woke up in a sweat again. More nightmares relating to The Great
Splash. Third night this week.
She refuses to take her Inducers. Alternatives. I've heard of a medicine
woman who lives deep in
Fleeks. Tales of nectar potions with healing powers and effects of
regeneration, an elixir of sorts.
I will seek her out when I go investigate these reports of 'A NEW
PROPHET BORN OF THAT DAY.'"
"Academy. My studies in Electropology did not help today. The back panel
of the
unit was easy enough to detach, dismantling the thing was a different
matter, though.
After six hours, I had numerous parts on my workbench. A good start. No,
as to
its workings I still do not have a clue. It is a small device, the
crafting and
design of a make alien and wonderful. Alas! Salt water is merciless. Rust,
corrosion.
Eight months submerged.
The ministry is impatient. The engineers overworked and the press is
thirsty.
I'm hoping to gain a better understanding of their symbols by trying to
understand
their machines. I'm a fisherman. Various decoders work day and night
attempting
numerical permutations of an infinite likeness. Who knows how long. I have
this feeling,
call it intuition, that their search is pointless. There's too much art in
their lines
and shapes, too rich and deep to be decoded by the non-organic. Not even
Miracle Workers
can touch this!
My office is a stack. Material. I found reference in legend, a cave in the
outskirts
has symbols which, although varying in stroke and curve, have several
similarities
worth investigating. I will leap to it tomorrow."
"Being exiled is not such a bad thing. I get provisions delivered on the
first of
every month, and I'm not deprived of my art. I was able to bring my
instruments with
me and I get fresh supplies of paper and charcoal whenever I ask for them.
Books are
available. I have a screen but no means to communicate with anyone. My
only contact is
Ral, the boy who delivers my supplies. He's quiet and thorough. Seldom
forgets my
requests, and, since I no longer have need for an eloquent tongue, or idle
chatter, our exchanges
are usually kept to hello, and goodbye.
It is an island. But the sort of island one would build a vacation house
in.
Tomatoes are planted along the fence, radishes and carrots trail the
backdoor. There's a large
plum tree in the backyard, and old rusty swings, once the playthings of
someone's
children, move to the coastal winds and sing a metallic song through
greater part of the day. There is
not time. Can't keep track of time. My shoulders are burdened no more.
Time doesn't mean
anything once you drop your weights. I did my part. I'm a ghost. A ghost
on vacation."
"I reached the Chamber at 7:15am and after preparing my daily caffeine,
resumed my studies
of the symbols. I've catalogued 3,017 so far. I've written numerous notes
relating to each.
I've broken down patterns and began associating their instructions, or my
interpretation
of their telltale, with the chamber's mechanisms. Before I activate
anything I must know its
workings. Fortunately, the ministry has given me full authority to conduct
research
in the manner I see fit. I have a small staff working at Building 3,
transcribing my notes
and creating luminaries of the symbols. Manta Pux and his assistant are
the only ones allowed
in the Main Chamber.
It takes me a good half hour to walk the tunnel leading to the ship.
MIN-23. Since the underwater
expansions were approved, more and more veins. Shops next! I managed to
create a 500 meter radius,
very few have access to this area. The lake is not what it used to be. The
nectar has changed
everything. I understand the attraction.
Ria is at her sister's and reports there's looting over waterline. They
don't want
underwater life, or 'laking' as some have begun to call it."
"See through gauze, gaze through gauze, a door knock. Timbre broken,
looking at the number 5 in
green. Hours into it, paper now glistening, days, months. Figures to
phaser. Plastic grows.
I see the curve of the page and I understand the tilt of my eye. I feel
the need to go to the small
room upstairs, the one with the sowing machine, the one with the smell of
tobacco and the
opium cots. The ministry is self-sustained.
My right is to my right again. Vein pop. The belt, a snake for Polly to
play with. I ask for, and
get my usual, no questions asked. Vera Vermin is a gracious hostess!"
"Tavernakle with Grass last night. He, spouting tales of three-breasted
women,
commandants of the past. Nurturers. In power. Him saying: 'what an elegant
way to control!' Regulators. Did not need birthing to produce milk, it
flowed abundantly. 'The ministry could use some sort of leverage!"
I told him of a dream visit to the woods, of seeing toned furred creatures
dancing and singing in a clearing. Cries and bursts of sound mangling each
other into a fantastic rendition of all-knowing force. Song. Such abandon!
Their laughter and exuberance were infectious. I sat on a limb and watched
the show. Grass asked what species they were...no answer. No knowing.
Akin to the beasts in B's paintings. Breeds
of otherworlds? Sleep state, I know, yet they were so real!"
"16 stadiums, each sitting at least 20,000, stand unused. 43 churches, 89
factories,
117 housing buildings in this prefect alone which, for various reasons sit
unoccupied,
sealed, owned and operated by bureocratic ghosts who have no need for
them. We charge
time to the homeless problem. We review the homeless.
I'm almost done with my proposal. I plan to present it next month.
Oork is sick today. 'Tunnel easy is life not,' he spoke through his thick
woods accent,
'the dislike compression my ears and hard to food is come by. Thank." He
said
as I handed him a Benta box.
He's one of a special breed, which in the streets they call hoppers.
Homeless elders who once
inhabited the woods as hunters and now live under bridges, under buildings
and in the tunnels.
Anywhere sheltered and dark. Their rugged, disheveled appearance, the
strange, piercing sounds
they interject in their speech, their pale and withered eyes -result of
life in Fleeks- provoke
fear and mistrust in most. They avoid people and people avoid them.
They're harmless though. Deeper in need, and most of them, like Oork,
getting on in years,
crowded with scars."
"Velvet and dirt line the ground. We tread above, 20cm to float. The field
sustains us.
There's a chill in the air, and rustlers ping the sky with movement and
sound.
Shopping at Rex, to lunch at Blooms. Sit and read for an hour.
We found a way to silence, temporary as it may be. These days we
communicate like children do.
Cloud-shaped lake. No duck pond. Veritable.
We visit Lett Stadium and deliver bread at the gate. Open: we are welcome.
Salutes. We bow. Smiles are inside. We marvel at the progress, walk the
perimeter.
Matron nears and presents us with a bag of blue matos, "grown in the
midst, Minister," blushes
"for you and the wife." We open the bag to release the sweet breath and
beam a thank you.
They have constructed bamboo ladders at various points, set up flash bulb
spots at entrances,
lantern repositories, transposed the tree symbols onto stone, guides for
the players.
Ria clutches my hand and nods to young twins in matching garb, painting a
lake scene up on
a terrace wall. They sense us, look down and smile."
"One extends first the index finger, followed by gelatin, then substance.
The rubber is tied around firmly. Careful not to tear the fold. If in need
of assistance refer to the instructions. Remember: never pull the string.
Once the substance begins flowing, relax. The sounds you'll hear, possible
visions, nausea onset...avoid paralysis.
Participants have reported taps into areas of the brain. Visits of
equations.
Formulas riddling in patterns, dizzying...torrents of numbers.
My experiments within parameters. The cot, sheets washed, illumination:
candles.
Contacts notified, schedules set. Ria does not entirely approve but
understands
my quest. Supports my need to report. Ari is here in case flushing is
needed.
Her studies in medicine and nursing license have revived me on two
occassions.
The doses are hard to measure. I advance. The conjuring will bring new
insight.
Into that realm. Notes abbreviated. Temperature set."
"Nefertiti is smitten. She paces the balcony and gazes unto the sloping
grass
as if he were to make, to be...an apparition. No saddled beast will bring
repose to her
heaving. I must not interfere. My daughter. To each their pain. To each
their poison, all I can do is be a base.
She receives communiques. Her favorite words. Lately, addressed from the
Pantheon.
I told her he moves too fast. She believes she can catch him by standing
still.
Not a bad theory. But -
Ria and Ari spent many hours in the yard baking. Bricks and sheets of
metal
boiling hot. Sisters. Twins. My wife Ria cuts her hair, Ari wears it long.
My Sunday to pace through the house and observe the family. Confectius is
sprinkling
powder on greenpies, the logs in the pit burn. Cat sleeps."
"We speak a different language. Our colors are reversed. This is not a
problem
but it is used as an example, a grievance. From embassy to presidency, his
gain of
power will mean funding.
Mieanph washed his hands clean. Orix unknown. Even after
presenting documentation and Orix's head preserved in koth but still,
packed in the
same velvet box it was delivered in, the council demanded "solid proof!"
Bribery.
Favoritism. Wealth of fat. Must call on maidens, in symbol, succubi awake.
We need a new strategy. Machine adaptations. I will arrange a meeting with
our engineers.
Scenarios? Believe. Trust not 3-headed snakes. Perhaps Vera could serve
in some capacity."
"Received communique. The passing of a dear one. Rooted so deep as to give
life.
So distant and forlorn, the passing of time. The great expanse not to
travel on foot.
Shock? I'm parsing through the surge...the emotions so tangled and
numerous: which
takes precedence?
Crazed with the sound of noon explosions, midnight bombings were dreams of
the
PERIOD. When, more than once, through narrow paths, hungry and destitute,
confused
and angry, forced to learn a new language. Abandon your dear ones, you
don't have a choice.
You with genes of an ancient pool.
Will trek to that land. I must. Lit a candle and in spirit tried to make
amends, though
no amends were needed. I feel you through other dimensions now...I mimick
your typing,
this passion for coffee and nicotine and the spear of words to word a
spear."
