Oy.
This was written almost enitrely today. (Hooray for deadlines!) About three of the total eighteen pages (eighteen pages?!??) were done a couple of weeks ago, but most of this came out of looking at the blog tday and realizing the story was due tomorrow. I wasn't really happy with the initial work and was fully considering turning in a partial story and being happy with that. But I developed the kind of enthusiasm for it that only a looming deadline and a lot of writing can provide.
What you see here is pretty much the first idea I came up with when I started to think about the topic. I did a little research to work out the names for the ship, the planets, and in some cases the people. I came up with a fun naming scheme for the major characters. ("Cid" is just a "Final Fantasy" nod and not part of the main scheme.) I'll see if anyone can figure it out before I reveal it. I also like the very last part, which I hope makes sense to people who are not me.
No part breaks this time, just one big hunk of story. Comments still welcome.
(Edit 8/10 - Corrected some typos and made small changes. Not enough to warrant a new post of anything.
Fal leaned against the window, staring intently out at the repair dock. The mechanics floated gracefully around Tishtar as they worked to replace the damaged hull section. Fal took careful note of everything they did. He had never allowed anyone to work on his ship if he couldn’t watch. He had to know every minute change they made to her, down to the last detail. Even if the mechanics made no mistakes – and Fal trusted their work – the slightest alteration could affect Tishtar’s speed, durability, or something else. So he watched.
He just barely looked up when Serena strolled into the main lounge. Fal sighed to himself. She would want to talk to him, of course, and that meant he would be distracted from watching Tishtar. And yet, part of him was looking forward to a conversation with Serena. Women like her rarely ever took flights with pilots like him. The rest of her group was no surprise; scientists probably planning to conduct some unauthorized experiment well away from the major systems. But Serena didn’t seem like the kind of person to shut herself away with data and chemicals for years on end, much less the kind to fly with an independent pilot who didn’t ask many questions. Even if it pulled him away from Tishtar for a while, Fal didn’t want to miss the opportunity.
“Hello, Captain,” Serena greeted him brightly. Serena always seemed in a positive mood. Fal wasn’t sure if she was naturally like that or if she was just excited about her group’s mission, whatever it was.
“Hi, Serena.” It was a pretty informal way to address one of his clients, but Fal never was particularly formal. People who wanted a formal greeting could fly with the big carriers. Serena held up a hand in protest, but it wasn’t over Fal’s lack of a proper greeting.
“Seriously, just call me Rena.” She shook her head and brushed unruly dark hair back from her face. “Only Papa Nebu calls me ‘Serena’.”
“Papa Nebu” was the senior member of Fal’s small group of passengers. Fal hadn’t asked, but he was pretty sure Nebu was Serena’s grandfather. He was old, probably pushing 150. Older still, perhaps, if he did cryos. Though since all of them were skipping cryo for the trip, Fal wasn’t sure that was the case. The main thing was that he seemed completely harmless, unlikely to do anything that would really cause trouble. That was all that really mattered to Fal. But he was soft spoken and deferred readily to Fal’s judgment on anything to do with getting them where they were going. So Fal liked him well enough.
“How’s the ship?” Rena asked, peering out the window.
“She’s fine,” replied Fal, glad for an excuse to watch the repairs again. “The hull got banged up pretty bad, but not much structural damage. We should be underway again sometime tomorrow.”
“I heard you talking with the chief mechanic when we came in. He said that most pilots would have come through the storm much worse off than you.”
The admiration in Rena’s voice sounded genuine, but Fal brushed it off.
“Eh, Cid says that all the time. And I’ve been in worse.”
Rena fell silent, though she didn’t look offended that Fal hadn’t taken the compliment. She stood beside him and watched the mechanics weld the replacement hull pieces into place. She clearly didn’t understand everything that was happening like Fal did, but she did look interested and Fal appreciated that. So many people just saw the ships, especially ships like his, as a necessary inconvenience in getting from one place to another. It was nice to have someone take even just a minute to appreciate the ship itself.
“So why do you run independent?” Rena asked as if it were a casual question. “Most of the pilots we were looking at before weren’t good enough to fly for the big fleets. But you could pass the exams easy.”
Fal was taken aback, though he tried not to show it. He hadn’t talked to Rena that much before now, so he hadn’t noticed just how uninhibited she was. Granted, most of his passengers barely spoke to him more than was absolutely necessary. But he wasn’t used to anyone asking him questions like that.
“Well,” Fal began, scratching at the side of his neck, “I did fly for TransUni for a little while. But it gets boring, flying the same routes all the time. Solo doesn’t pay as well, but I own my ship and I go where I want when I want to.”
Rena nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. They both turned their attentions back to the ship. The mechanics were maneuvering a new section of hull into place. It was a little thicker than the older sections, though the mechanics would make it fit smoothly. Added protection, but Fal would have to adjust a bit for the additional weight.
“Why is that piece sunk in like that?” Rena was pointing at Tishtar’s nameplate.
“It’s old,” Fal replied. “I realized when I started having to bring Tishtar in for repairs and tune-ups that I’d probably have a whole new ship eventually. I have them keep the nameplate so there’s always something from the original on her. The clear sheeting keeps it protected, since it’s not as strong as most of the hull is now.”
“Is that a burn mark?”
Rena looked over at Fal, her eyebrows raised with far more questions than the one she had asked. Fal sighed quietly and rubbed his forehead. Should he tell her? It couldn’t really do any harm. They’d be unlikely to find another pilot to take them to such a remote planet way out here, so they were stuck with him no matter what they knew about him. But Rena was probably expecting some fun adventure story about comets or star flares. She might not react well, but Fal had always tried to be honest about what had happened and he didn’t want to stop now.
“Yeah,” he began slowly. “I was taking a group out to Konis sector. I figured they just wanted to start an unauthorized colony. I brought them out to EI 4.”
Rena’s eyes grew wide, and Fal hoped it wasn’t just his wishful thinking that she looked more surprised than horrified.
“That was you?” she said quietly. Fal nodded.
“I had no clue they were going to blow it up. I was lucky to get out at all. I doubt they cared much whether I made it or not.
“I was able to convince the judges that I wasn’t in on their plan. But I didn’t get hazmat waivers back then, so I was still partly liable. And the PCC doesn’t like losing seven hospitable planets, or that many people, even if they were crazy. I got four years incarceration and another four flight prohibition.”
“So what did you do then?” There was enough genuine concern in her voice that Fal could let himself believe that knowing about his past hadn’t made Rena hate him.
“Odd jobs mostly. I got work permits on the Chinese and Saudi systems, so I hung around there a lot. Whatever made me enough money to keep Tishtar from being sold.”
“Why didn’t you just work in you home system? Was it a lot more money in the others?”
Fal motioned to the docked Tishtar outside the window.
“She’s my home. I didn’t really care where I stayed until I could get her back. It was easier that way anyways. You can go where the work is if you’re not tied down to one place.”
Rena nodded, though Fal doubted she completely understood. She probably had some nice house on one of the hub planets, close to her family. He wondered if she’d ever been this far from home before. They stood in silence for a while, watching the mechanics smooth out the rough spots on the new hull pieces. Fal wished he could think of something more to say, but nothing came. Rena had led the entire conversation and now that she had fallen silent, it seemed to have ended.
A voice from a short ways away caused both Rena and Fal to turn. Shi Ye, the other member of Fal’s group of passengers, was calling for Rena from the cafeteria section of the lounge. Fal could see Nebu sitting at a nearby table. Rena waved to them in answer, and then turned apologetically to Fal.
“I’ve gotta get going,” she told him. “It was nice talking to you. I’ll see you on the ship.”
She waved hurriedly and started towards the cafeteria. Fal returned the wave awkwardly.
“I’ll see you,” he echoed, wishing he had something better to say even as he said it.
Though Fal knew he should be supervising the final repairs on Tishtar, he somehow couldn’t stop himself from watching Rena jauntily rush off to join her group. He wondered if she might tell them anything about him.
Fal gracefully eased Tishtar through a small field of space debris. They were just two days out from AF 5, but Fal was hoping to shave an hour or two off of that time. Most pilots wouldn’t have cared and wouldn’t have bothered to do the navigation themselves. They usually just let the autopilot take over unless it warned them of something it couldn’t handle. But Fal had always preferred taking control himself. Autopilots were reliable enough for when Fal needed some sleep, but even the slightest risks were unacceptable to them. By handling the ship himself, Fal could usually cut a good chunk of time off the trip compared to what the autopilot would have done. Besides, Fal enjoyed steering the Tishtar. When he wasn’t sleeping, he generally spent his time in the cockpit.
The green communications button for the ship’s small meeting room lit up. The passengers spent most of their time there and Fal could only assume they were working out the final details of whatever experiment they were planning. Fal hit the button, enabling the microphone and speakers.
“Go ahead,” he said casually.
“Captain,” Nebu’s voice came crackling over the speaker, “what is our remaining flight time to Tonantzin?”
It still puzzled Fal how all three of them referred to planets by their informal names. Scientists especially, Fal figured, would prefer the more precise number and star abbreviation system. But they repeatedly called even the most distant planets like this one by those archaic names. Fal shrugged and checked his instrument readings.
“We’ve got about one day, seventeen hours,” he answered. “Less if conditions are good.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Fal would have shut off the communication system, but a short beep told him that the autopilot was engaging and starting to scan for the clearest path out of the debris field in order to take a long, unobstructed arc around it. Fal punched in the override code and got the ship back into position, tilting slightly to the port side to avoid a larger chunk of rock.
That was when he heard it. “Gaia bomb.”
Fal stared in shock at the communication speaker, as if expecting it to explain what he had just heard. He wanted to believe it was a mistake; that he had misheard somehow. After all, was there any such thing as a “Gaia bomb”? But he knew it was real. After what had happened, he knew that word when he heard it.
Fal made sure the microphone was off and began listening intently. The audio from the speaker was not very good, so Fal couldn’t be sure who had said that word he dreaded to hear. It might have been Shi Ye, but it could have been Nebu. Fal kept listening, but he didn’t hear anything other than what he was already nearly certain of. They had a bomb and they were going to drop it on AF 5.
Fal just barely managed to get the ship through the last of the debris field. He let the autopilot pick up and fell back in his chair. How could they possibly have a bomb? What did they have that didn’t set off the cargo scanners? And why bring it out to some uninhabited planet to set off? They weren’t landing with it, so this wasn’t another suicide cult. Maybe they just wanted to test it. Maybe it was a bioweapom, something slow acting. Maybe the would come back later and see how it was progressing, drop some test subjects down to check its effects, then try in on an inhabited planet when they knew what it did.
Fal could hardly think straight. What could he do? Contact the PCC? It would take them too long to get out here and even with the waiver, they might still come down on him. Confront his passengers? He wasn’t sure what they might do. Jettison the bomb in space before they got to the planet? He wasn’t sure what it might do. Fal didn’t have many options, and none of them seemed good. But one thing he knew: he could not let this happen again.
Fal headed down the corridor to the cargo bay and typed in the passkey for the door. He was fairly sure Nebu, Shi Ye, and Rena were all asleep, but he still kept quiet. They didn’t use cryo, so any of them could wake up at any time. The door slid open and Fal entered the cargo bay where the single large crate stood.
Once he had found the lock, Fal reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny device. Lockpicks were completely illegal for independent pilots, of course, but Fal had picked one up after EI 4, just in case. He plugged it into the lock’s port. The pick fired its various random codes into the lock, hitting on the right one in a matter of seconds. The lock popped and Fal carefully opened the crate.
A sleek metal object sat inside a stabilizing case that was probably meant to fall away once the crate left the ship. Fal looked carefully around the projectile for any sign of what it might contain. It did occur to him that figuring out what exactly the bomb did might kill him. But he had taken the precaution of putting Tishtar in a slow orbit around a nearby planetoid before going to check the cargo. If the thing did kill him, at least the so-called scientists would never make it to AF 5, or back, without assistance.
Assuming that any of them survived
Before long, Fal found a panel with a handle on it along one side of the device. He grasped the handle, rotated it, and slid the panel to the side. Inside the bomb, Fal could see numerous small, suspended tubes. They seemed to fill every part of the bomb and Fal wondered if it opened up further to allow access to the rest of the tubes. He couldn’t see much in them aside from colored liquids. But each one had a label attached to it. “Tonantzinus currans” one read. “Tonantzinus canis” proclaimed another. It made absolutely no sense to Fal. Worse, it didn’t really give him any hint of what to do.
There was a sudden footstep behind him. Fal whirled around, realizing as he did how totally unprepared he was for a fight. But with no weapon of her own, he guessed that Rena wasn’t either. He could only see her in the faint glow from the ship’s safety lighting, but he could make out her face. She didn’t look at all surprised, just sad.
“I think you’d better come with me,” she said, with a heavy sigh.
It seemed like forever before Nebu, Shi Ye, and Rena joined Fal in the meeting room where Rena had left him. He had tried to listen in on their conversation in the hallway, but he couldn’t make anything out through the closed door. Now they had apparently reached some kind of decision and were coming in to inform him. Rena had that same sad look on her face as she slumped down in the chair opposite Fal. Nebu seemed more worried as he stood to one side of Rena. Shi Ye eyed Fal irritably and took his seat at Rena’s other side.
“Let me say first,” Nebu began, “that I am truly sorry. It was not our intention to involve you in any of this.”
“Shouldn’t have hired me then,” Fal thought, though he didn’t say anything. Nebu paused, saw that Fal wasn’t going to respond, then continued.
“I’m guessing that you overheard our earlier conversation, including our rather poor term for our device.”
Nebu’s eyes fell on Shi Ye briefly and Fal guessed that he was probably the one who had dubbed that thing in the cargo bay the “Gaia bomb”. Still, Fal said nothing. Nebu sat down and looked at him intently.
“I assure you that our ‘bomb’ is not intended to destroy anything. In fact, it’s meant to create.”
Fal didn’t feel reassured. Nutcases used this kind of double talk all the time to justify whatever crazy thing they wanted to do. The cultists on EI 4 had apparently thought they were bringing about some kind of new paradise by causing the end of the universe. You could say it however you want, but bombs still destroyed.
“It’s like a seed packet.” Fal was surprised to hear Rena speak. Her face had changed from deep sadness to an almost pleading look, as if she was desperate to make him understand.
“It’s seeds,” she repeated. “Seeds for the whole world. It makes plants and animals and all kinds of life.”
Fal had to admit he hadn’t expected this and he was intrigued at the least. But he still didn’t trust these people. He thought back to that day at the repair station, the first time he and Rena had really talked. What had she really been thinking? Had she been sent to get information on Fal, figure out his secrets in case they needed something to use against him?
“Why?” he asked, barely looking up.
Rena looked like she was about to say something, but she turned to Nebu instead. The old man sighed a little, like he was remembering something hard to deal with.
“For eons,” he began, “we have realized that we are essentially alone in the universe. Our exploration has turned up nothing but microscopic organisms, certainly nothing on a par with our level of development. Instead of seeing that knowledge as a sign that we should act as caretakers of the universe, we have taken it as permission to do as we wish with it.”
“And act like idiots while we do it,” added Shi Ye, speaking for the first time. “We’re just dividing up the galaxy, fighting over resources, claiming every planet for one nation or another. We only care about whether we can use something, and if we can’t, we just destroy it to make room for something we can. We just act like there’s always going to be more of everything, no matter what we do.”
“So how does this help?” Fal asked. “We pretty much did the same thing on Sol 3 and that had plenty of plants and animals on it back then. How’s another planet like that going to change anything?”
“It’s not just plants and animals,” Rena said very quietly. “We’re trying to make a species on our level. Something as smart as us.”
Fal stared at Rena, totally dumbstruck. He tried to formulate a sentence, but he had absolutely no response to what she had just said.
“We believe,” Nebu continued, “that another ‘sentient’ species, for lack of a better term, will force us to reexamine our place in the universe.”
“Assuming,” began Fal, trying to collect his thoughts, “that your new species actually gets that smart. And that it survives. I mean, won’t we just take it out in the name of progress if we get here before it’s as smart as we are?”
“The device isn’t just once species,” Nebu explained. “It’s hundreds of plant and animal species with thousands of mutational iterations of each one. They all have different characteristics that we believe will help them survive on this particular planet, but only the best adaptations will thrive. The device is designed to jumpstart the evolutionary process. About five percent of the organisms are endowed with the necessary characteristics to attain our level of development. The other species are there to provide a full ecosystem for them. Because of the current pace of human colonization, we’ve set the program to hopefully reach completion in 300 to 500 years. By that time, the major species should be creating advance technology, possibly even space travel.”
“So we’ll basically have a rival for planets that doesn’t go by our rules,” Fal said skeptically. “Well what if once they find out about us, they use their big brains to build weapons and try to wipe us out?”
“They won’t,” Rena said firmly.
“We don’t know that,” Shi Ye countered, sounding like they had been through this argument before. He turned to Fal.
“Even if they do decide to fight us, we’ll still outnumber them. Our organization would be able to give the militaries information about how to beat them without letting on that we created them. And at the least, it’ll make us stop thinking like a bunch of separate countries and start acting like one species with a common goal.”
“But they could still get a couple of hits in before we could take them out,” Fal argued. “A lot of people could die. Then what do we learn? That it’s safer to shoot first?”
Shi Ye looked irritated again, but Nebu nodded, bowing his head.
“Our plan is not without risks,” he admitted. “And we will likely not be the ones to suffer the consequences if it does come to violence. Still, we do believe the potential gains outweigh the negative possibilities.”
“And even if this species does get killed,” Rena added, “there’s the others.”
Shi Ye smacked his forehead in exasperation and Rena seemed to realize she had made a mistake. Nebu held up a hand.
“It’s all right, Serena,” he said. “We need to be completely honest with Captain Lenaeum if we expect him to trust us.”
Nebu returned his attention to Fal.
“This is our first mission, but we do have two similar devices being prepared for other planets. We are working on more, though we hope to know how these three are progressing before we seriously consider launching those.”
Fal just sat for a minute, trying to process everything they had told him. Nebu wanted him to trust them, to help them. Help them to create a new lifeform to keep their own species in check. Trust them that it was for the good of everyone, because they were almost certain it was. There seemed to be way too many near certainties in this plan: the near certainty that the new species would achieve space flight in three to five centuries, the near certainty that they wouldn’t exterminate all of humanity, maybe even the near certainty that Fal would help with this plan.
“I’m not saying I’m going along with any of this,” Fal said at last, “but if I did, what happens then?”
“We go into orbit over Tonantzin,” Shi Ye explained, “then we dump the Gaia bomb. The vivasimines are launched and triggered to grow and the whole casing eventually disintegrates.”
“And us?” Fal asked. He didn’t particularly care about how the “Gaia bomb” did its job.
“We go home,” answered Nebu. “We return to the project, secure transportation to one of the other target planets with another device, and periodically return to Tonantzin to observe the progress from a distance. You go on with your business and never see us again, if you so choose.”
“Okay, so what if I decide this is insane and just dump the thing into deep space instead?”
“You can’t!” Fal nearly jumped at the sudden burst of near anger from Rena.
“You can’t do that! People have been working their whole lives to make this happen! You can’t just throw it away!”
“She’s right,” Shi Ye agreed, sounding the least confrontational that Fal had heard him. “It’s not just us. People have spent decades on this project. No pay, no recognition. Most of them can’t even tell their families what they’re doing. They did it because they believe it has to happen.”
Fal sighed. He didn’t doubt it. He could imagine them all, tons of scientists working away in some secret lab somewhere, tweaking genes to build a better aliens. He didn’t doubt that they thought it was necessary. But the EI 4 cultists had thought what they were doing was necessary to usher in paradise. Good intentions didn’t necessarily mean good results.
“What if I take the ship to the nearest station and turn you all in?”
Nebu sighed deeply. Fal was fairly sure he had considered this possibility many times.
“We would be arrested immediately. Whether we tell them or not, it is almost certain that the authorities will find the rest of our group and arrest them as well. None of our respective nations will look favorably on us. Our experiment breaks countless laws. I imagine the waivers you obtained from us would allow you to claim ignorance and your action in turning us in once you found out what we were planning would likely spare you any serious punishment. As for us, we would lose the project and end up incarcerated for decades.”
“We’d lose our freedom,” Rena said solemnly. It was probably intended to remind Fal of the time when he had lost his own freedom. But all it did was make him think about how that seemingly intimate conversation had probably been more of a fact-finding mission for Rena.
“So,” Shi Ye said, growing impatient, “what are you going to do?”
Fal looked at each of them: Shi Ye, angered by the possibility that their experiment might never come to fruition simply because they picked the wrong pilot; Nebu, patient as ever, yet worried for the safety of his group; and Rena, who still seemed to be searching for something to say that would make him understand what they were doing and why.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Fal stood quietly in the cargo bay beside the Gaia bomb. He had decided that he preferred Shi Ye’s term for it. Even if it wasn’t intended to destroy anything, it was going to destroy the way the galaxy was now. Nothing was going to be the same after they dropped it. If they dropped it.
Fal didn’t turn around when Rena came in. He only assumed it was her because she was the only one who would come and try to talk to him. Shi Ye had said everything he was going to and Nebu wanted him to make up his own mind. She called Fal’s name and confirmed his suspicion, but he merely nodded in answer.
“I can tell you about them, if you want,” Rena offered, motioning towards the crate. “I made one that has six legs, but it…”
“Don’t.” Fal didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want the responsibility of knowing what these things would be like now, and then wondering if he should have seen it coming when they started destroying inhabited planets.
“I’m sorry.” Fal couldn’t be sure anymore, but it sounded as if Rena actually was sorry.
“I’m sorry we brought you into this.” She fell silent, maybe hoping for him to say something, but he had nothing to say to her.
“It’s really up to you now,” she said very quietly. “You could just take us back and let us find someone else to deliver the device. You could turn us in or dump it in space, but I hope you don’t. It’s your choice, though.”
Fal sighed and rubbed his forehead. The two of them stood in silence. Even without looking at Rena, he could guess how uncertain she felt, unsure even of whether she should stay or go back to her group.
“So,” he said at last, “you want to tell them that we’re going to do this thing?”
He was only watching Rena out of the corner of his eye, but it would have been impossible to miss her eyes widening in surprise and the huge smile that broke out across her face.
“You mean it?” she said. She was all but bouncing with excitement that Fal wished he shared in. She looked like she might be about to hug him. Fal put up a hand.
“Just go,” he mumbled. His lack of enthusiasm did almost nothing to diminish Rena’s as she nearly flew out the door and down the hall to the meeting room. Fal could just hear the celebrations behind the door as he passed by. Someone was laughing and to Fal’s great surprise, it sounded like Shi Ye. He knew he could have gone in there and received all kinds of thanks and praise and assurances that he had done the right thing. But he kept going, down the hall, into the cockpit. He sat down and engaged the thrusters, slowly easing Tishtar out of orbit and back on course.
Twelve hours to AF 5.
“Cargo drop initiating in thirty. All clear.”
Fal did a final scan of the cargo bay after making the announcement. No life signs. The future inhabitants of AF 5 weren’t alive enough yet to register.
“Cargo drop in fifteen. All clear. Bay doors locking.”
Fal flipped the switch locking access from the rest of the ship to the cargo bay. It was probably unnecessary, but even now, he couldn’t risk anyone or everyone deciding to leap out into space unprotected and leaving him to explain what had happened to his passengers.
“Cargo drop in ten, nine, eight, seven, six…”
One last sweep of the cargo bay. Fal typed in the passkey for bay door release.
“…five, four, three…”
He grabbed the cargo release lever and prayed he was doing the right thing.
“…two, one.”
Fal pulled the lever.
“Cargo away.”
He tried not to think about what he’d just done, what it all meant. He scanned the cargo bay again and confirmed that the Gaia bomb had been jettisoned. He pushed the lever back up and reset the lock.
“Cargo is away. Bay doors will remain locked until bay is pressurized.”
Fal leaned back in his chair. It was another opportunity to join his passengers, who were likely watching the Gaia bomb descend towards the planet below. He could have shared a little of their triumph, but he still wasn’t sure if it was something he wanted to be a part of.
The cockpit door alert sounded and the viewscreen showed Rena waiting outside. Puzzled, Fal released the lock. The door slid open and Rena came in with uncharacteristic hesitance.
“You aren’t going to watch it go down?” Fal asked.
“No.” She glanced out the cockpit window and Fal guessed that she had some regrets about not watching her handiwork head to its final destination.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, not turning her eyes from the window.
Fal stretched his arms, giving himself a second to think. He hadn’t come up with a completely satisfactory answer yet. He still wasn’t completely convinced that this was a good idea, or that it wasn’t going to backfire. But there was one thing that seemed to keep coming up as he pondered his own reasons for his decision.
“I took some free time between jobs once,” he began, “ and I just went out flying. No particular destination, except away from all the big systems. So I was just out there, at least two weeks out from the nearest outpost even. And I saw a new planet.”
Rena turned her head, eyebrows raised.
“Really?” she asked. “A whole new planet?”
“Well, I’m not sure if it was a real planet,” answered Fal. “It was small, and pretty far out from the star. But it wasn’t on any of the charts.”
“What was it like?” asked Rena. She had turned completely away from the window, her attention fully on him now.
“Small, like I said. Probably pretty cold, being so far out. I don’t have instruments for checking that kind of stuff, so I’m just guessing. But it was kind of greenish blue, with little hints of yellow. It was nice.
“I guess I was kind of thinking that it doesn’t happen much anymore, finding stuff out here you don’t expect. So maybe if we had a whole planet full of life, like we never thought we were going to find, it’d make us think more about how we don’t know everything that’s out there yet.”
Rena was looking out the window again, but not to try and catch a glimpse of the Gaia bomb. She was just looking out into space, as if she saw something new in the dark, starry reaches.
“Could you…” she began, then suddenly shook her head. “Never mind.”
Rena’s gaze was growing distracted and unfocused again. Fal could feel another silence settling, but this time, he didn’t want to let it happen.
“Do you really think this is going to make us change?” he asked, motioning towards the planet below.
Rena took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fal couldn’t know, but he thought this might be the first time Rena had ever really thought about that. People didn’t devote years of their life to a project that didn’t pay if they spent every day asking whether it was really going to work or not.
“I don’t know,” she said at last, “I hope it does. But I don’t know.”
Fal looked down at his hands and pressed his fingertips together. He had been thinking about what he was about to say since he had decided to drop the Gaia bomb, but it still wasn’t easy to do.
“So,” he started, trying to sound casual, “if you’ve got two more of these things and you want to come back and check on how this one’s doing, I think you’re going to need a pilot.”
Rena looked at him questioningly, almost guessing at where he was going with this, but not quite sure she should believe it.
“Independent pilot, obviously,” he continued, just glancing up from time to time to make sure she was listening. “Someone willing to go way out of the major systems. Someone who won’t talk because if you go down, so does he.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” she said, looking at him with a steady gaze. “I think what we really need is someone we can trust.”
Her sincerity was a little embarrassing, and Fal dropped his eyes away from her.
“I think I know someone,” he mumbled, “if you’re interested.”
Rena smiled, and Fal saw that same easy going, casual natured woman he’d talked to at the repair docks, who seemed to have disappeared that night he’d opened the crate in the cargo bay.
“It’s not really my decision,” she grinned. “Bu I’m sure they’ll say yes.”
Fal smiled with relief. Even if he still wasn’t totally sure that the Gaia bomb drop was the right decision, this felt like it was.
“So how did you get Tishtar?” Rena asked, running a hand along the wall. Fal cocked his head at her suspiciously and she laughed.
“I wasn’t trying to dig up info on you then,” she chuckled. “And you just offered to help us, so even if I had been, I wouldn’t need to now.”
“So you’re actually interested?” Fal had been told many times he could bore anyone to sleep when he started talking about his ship. Rena nodded.
“That and I like listening to people who are passionate about something.”
Fal dusted off the long unused co-pilot’s chair and motioned for Rena to sit, which she did.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell you more than you ever wanted to know about Tishtar, but then you tell me how a nice girl like you got started making killer aliens.”
“Deal,” Rena laughed, leaning expectantly towards Fal.
“All right,” Fal started. “I guess I was ten or so when I knew I wanted to fly. My mom used to work for TransUni, though she wasn’t a pilot….”
No one would ever know exactly when it happened. The rest of the universe would never know the date, and many years would pass before humanity became aware of just what had occurred and how it would change life irreparably. But everyone would know where it happened. Most people knew it as AF 5. Some called it Tonantzin. But it would have a new name soon enough. And though they would not ever be able to place exactly when it happened, people would talk of that day, write of it, sing of it, envision it in art, and remember it for all time.
The day the first Tonantzinian beheld the planet’s sun and gave it a name.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Second Topic: We're Alone
It took me a while to come up with a topic different enough in nature from the first that I liked, but wasn't TOO different. (I'll save that one for next time around. *grin*) So here we go, the second topic for the Front Lobby Bench writing blog will be...
We're Alone.
It's the future (however distant or close is your choice). We humans have mapped the heavens, have found thousands upon thousands of extra-solar planets, identified the composition of them all with advanced technology, and turned all sorts of listening devices spanning the frequencies to the Earth-like ones for decades. And what have we found? Nothing. Not one peep. No signals, messages, pictures, accidental broadcasts, voices, or any sort of non-astronomical sounds. The final analysis? All of science is agreed. We're alone.
Earth is the only planet on which intelligent life has arisen. What does that mean for us humans? How do we react? How does this impact our advancement as a race, if at all? Where do we turn our technological efforts now?
As a reminder: Writers do not have to answer all the questions posed. They're simply possible starting points of thought.
We're Alone.
It's the future (however distant or close is your choice). We humans have mapped the heavens, have found thousands upon thousands of extra-solar planets, identified the composition of them all with advanced technology, and turned all sorts of listening devices spanning the frequencies to the Earth-like ones for decades. And what have we found? Nothing. Not one peep. No signals, messages, pictures, accidental broadcasts, voices, or any sort of non-astronomical sounds. The final analysis? All of science is agreed. We're alone.
Earth is the only planet on which intelligent life has arisen. What does that mean for us humans? How do we react? How does this impact our advancement as a race, if at all? Where do we turn our technological efforts now?
As a reminder: Writers do not have to answer all the questions posed. They're simply possible starting points of thought.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Guardians - Jennifer's Submission
Hey, it was written a day before being due! But I've been away from technology until today. The last week and a half has been so busy hectic for me, I'm just glad I got time while Up North to write this out. It's been in my head for a while.
I have yet to pick/find a disease that fits what I want for this story, so please keep that in mind as you read and wonder where the details on that are. Otherwise, comment away! Comments of all nature are more than welcome.
Jordan took the seat to the right of her husband as they both sat down in front of the doctor's desk. The office wasn't anything out of the ordinary for a child psychiatrist. There were shelves of books behind the desk, taking up the entire wall. A spacious window with a nice view occupied the adjoining wall, bordered on one side by the various degrees and memberships this doctor had. But the window was only glass and frame, no way to open it. In front of the window was a large open area, a muted color designer rug designating how much space was to be uncluttered, surrounded by a couch on one side, two easy chairs with an empty end table between them on another side, and the doctor's special ergonomic chair kitty-cornering with the last two open sides. The wall across from the desk, beyond the open area, was lined with shelves and storage devices for children's toys, all of which were neatly put away. The last wall's only notable decoration was the door from which patients and their parents entered, as Jordan and her husband, Jackson, had just done.
She waited nervously for Doctor Hall to move around his desk and take his chair, which took longer than normal due to his getting on in years. Then Jordan waited more anxiously as he opened their paper work and reviewed it. He made the typical doctor non-committal "hmm" sound, and the stereotypical motion of looking down then back up the chart as if he could read a whole page at once in a few seconds simply by scanning it backwards. He even had the little metal framed glasses, which he held up slightly with his right hand so he could peer out from underneath them at what he was supposedly reading. All of it simply unsettled Jordan further. Shouldn't he have already seen all of this? Shouldn't he already know what was wrong with her daughter!? Why was he going through motions and wasting time right in front of her when he already had the answer!
Jackson put a steady hand on Jordan's arm, signaling her to calm down. She managed to peel her eyes away from the doctor to look at her husband. He was leaning slightly over the arm of his chair towards her, his face was empty of emotion but his eyes were steady and strong. She could practically hear him repeating to her "It's okay, everything is going to be fine," as he had over and over again the last several days. She simply nodded, then slumped back in her chair to await a verdict.
Doctor Hall finally set the folder down, clasped his hands together over it, and looked up at them. "Your daughter is quite sane," he informed them bluntly. "Much more so than would be expected under the circumstances," he added with a trace of approval in his voice.
Jordan failed to react. She was waiting for the "BUT". This sounded like good news, BUT there was always more. There had been every other time they had talked to a doctor in the last several years.
Jackson simply nodded, as if saying of course his daughter was in perfect mental health.
"Her outbursts, her occasional anti-social nature (introspection), her sudden mood shifts, her refusal to be parted with the stuffed animal," Doctor Hall, went on to say, "are all consistent with her situation." He moved one of his arms and picked up a piece of paper. "With your permission, if you recall, her medical records had been sent over. Everything is as I would expect it to be for someone with as severe a disease as she has." He set the paper back down and leaned slightly back in his chair.
(Here it comes,) Jordan thought, and braced herself for the bad news, squeezing Jackson's hand. He placed his other one over hers.
"It is quite clear to me," Doctor Hall announced, "Elizabeth has a Guardian."
Neither parent responded. Jordan blinked a few times while her mind tried to process what she had just been told, but she came up with nothing. Was that bad... or good?
"A guardian?" Jackson eventually asked for the both of them.
Doctor Hall nodded. "Yes." He paused a moment, then leaned forward on one elbow, taking his glasses into his hand and almost nibbling on the end of one side. "You see, a guardian is a being that responds to certain needs in a child. It can take pretty much any form the child wants, whatever is most useful in relating to the child. Different needs cause different guardians, and a child's guardian can change over the years. Guardians, if not bound up in a beloved object, are invisible and so of course considered imaginary friends," he explained with a dismissive wave of his hand holding his glasses. "Those in a physical form," he started the other side of the explanation by opening his other hand and moving slightly outwards, "are generally considered safety blankets or comfort toys. Eventually children out grow their guardians, and most go on to lead perfectly normal lives." His hands returned to their original positions, one on the desk, the other holding the glasses near his mouth in a thoughtful manner. "But guardians are essential to many children growing up healthy and well adjusted, especially in extreme cases like your daughter's." He paused again, looking back and forth from Jackson to Jordan with a look that asked if they had any questions so far.
"So when she's talking to Claire, her stuffed animal...?" Jordan started to ask slowly, trying to put together some understanding of what she was being told. "Holding only half a conversation..."
"She is actually talking with her Guardian," Doctor Hall confirmed. "And it is talking back, to her."
"So... Claire is real?" Jackson asked, his voice full of doubt.
"Undoubtedly," Doctor Hall replied.
Jordan and Jackson turned to each other, sharing a look. "Okay," Jackson started to speak first, turning back to face the doctor, "say we do believe you-"
"I do," Jordan interrupted. "Such things can be real, I know it." She glanced sideways at Jackson. "We, know it."
Jackson gave a quiet "hmmph", and sat back in his chair, indicating he was not about to fight this argument.
Doctor Hall quietly looked back and forth between the two for a moment, then let the comments slide. "Elizabeth's case is special, however," he continued on with his explanation. "I have been tracking guardians for decades. It's not typical for a guardian to have a very normal and real type name such as Claire. Unless it's a doll that comes pre-named and becomes a guardian." He gave a slight shrug as he opened his hands to the two in front of him, indicating this just happened to be the case. "Younger children have too hard a time pronouncing real names, and in general children prefer to pick identifying names, like binky or blanket, or simply make up creative names." He looked down at a pile of folders on one side of his desk. "I've been able to follow several guardians through the childhoods of multiple children, despite name changes, as their characteristics and behavior with the child they are guarding do not change. Even when I come across new Guardians, usually they are simply new to me but have been around, already identified by another specialist." He looked back up at the parents. "I do not believe this is the case with Elizabeth and Claire. I think Claire may be a new guardian."
"New guardian?" Jordan asked, the oh-no feeling in her stomach knotting tighter.
Doctor Hall nodded. "In all my years, I have only come across a new guardian two other times, and my associate here has only come across one once. All three times, the Guardian was an older sibling of the child in question, one who had died before the younger child started manifesting symptoms of a guardian."
Jordan inhaled broken sounding breath, turned and grasped her husband's arm with both her hands. She shut her eyes tight as her head dropped slightly.
"I have to ask," Doctor Hall's voice spoke quietly, respectfully, almost with apology, "did you two have an older child?"
Jordan clenched her teeth to keep her chin from quivering as she breathed.
"We had an older daughter," Jackson's voice replied very slowly, fighting to keep control. Jordan could not tell how he was fairing, for she didn't dare open her eyes. "She died, from the same disease Elizabeth has," Jordan continued. "Her name... was Claire."
Whatever Doctor Hall's reaction was, Jordan did not see. She simply clung to Jackson as she fought back a wave of grief. She felt Jackson's arm pry itself from her grip and move around her body. There were words from him in her ear, meant only for the two of them, but she barely heard them. It was only his tone and his form she was able to react to. But with his help, Jordan soon managed to regain control of herself enough that she felt she could interact with the doctor again.
"We thought," Jordan said in unsteady voice, "she simply remembered it from when she was younger. Elizabeth was one and a half, but she had known her sister's name by then, had been able to say it, when- when Clarie...."
"In all three cases before this," Doctor Hall spoke so Jordan didn't have to, still with subdued voice, "the older children had died from what they were then guarding the younger from. One case even had the guardian passed down from sibling to sibling, though in different forms, until the last grew up." He leaned forward, and with his best comforting voice offered the couple, "This is a good thing. With Clarie, it is much more likely Elizabeth will survive."
Jordan raised her eyes to look Doctor Hall in his, and believed him. She sighed out what hurt she could, and relaxed in Jackson's arms.
Jackson nodded to the doctor. "Then what do we have to do?" he asked. "I mean, we can't go telling her caregivers and teachers that her older sister's spirit is causing her to act out."
Doctor Hall nodded in understanding. "You continue with Elizabeth as her doctors instruct, and I will handle her teachers. Any caregivers- nurses or whomever- can be told or not as you see fit, as much or little as you see fit. They already deal with many patients, and since Elizabeth is not violent I doubt they much care how she gets through her sessions and treatments, so long as she does."
Jackson and Doctor Hall went over more details and specifics, Jackson being sure all possibilities of any sort he could think of were taken care of. Then a little round of small talk, before it was clear the meeting was starting to wrap up.
"Do you have any other questions?" Doctor Hall asked.
"Doctor?" Jordan asked lightly. "Are all guardians... like ours?"
Doctor Hall smiled a little, almost bittersweet smile. "Yes. All guardians used to be children. They tend towards being with children who are going through similar things as they did before they died. It seems to be how they know how to help best."
Jordan nodded. "And when the child grows up," she started another question, her eyes taking on a far off look, "they always move on to another?"
Doctor Hall started to shake his head. "Honestly, I do not know what happens to them all. There are many, yes, who move on to other children. I've been able to match several, my colleague many more, and across the country some of my guardians have been found just as I find those first identified by others. In fact, all of those who were not tied to an object have turned up again, eventually, with another child somewhere. Though only some of those who were material have turned up again." He shrugged. "I do not know what happens to the rest, or even what happens to Guardians when they are between children needing them."
Jordan nodded slightly, and leaned her head against her husband. "I do."
Doctor Hall looked genuinely surprised. So much so, it was his turn to not speak for a moment. "You do?" he finally managed to get out. "What?"
"They sleep," Jordan replied simply.
"Sleep," the doctor echoed neutrally.
Jordan nodded more firmly this time. "Mine still does. She hardly wakes up anymore. But, she's still there.... I can still feel her when I need her."
Jackson sighed deeply. Doctor Hall looked to him, and he nodded solemnly back. "She has this doll," he started to explain to the doctor. "Ever since she was a child...."
I have yet to pick/find a disease that fits what I want for this story, so please keep that in mind as you read and wonder where the details on that are. Otherwise, comment away! Comments of all nature are more than welcome.
Jordan took the seat to the right of her husband as they both sat down in front of the doctor's desk. The office wasn't anything out of the ordinary for a child psychiatrist. There were shelves of books behind the desk, taking up the entire wall. A spacious window with a nice view occupied the adjoining wall, bordered on one side by the various degrees and memberships this doctor had. But the window was only glass and frame, no way to open it. In front of the window was a large open area, a muted color designer rug designating how much space was to be uncluttered, surrounded by a couch on one side, two easy chairs with an empty end table between them on another side, and the doctor's special ergonomic chair kitty-cornering with the last two open sides. The wall across from the desk, beyond the open area, was lined with shelves and storage devices for children's toys, all of which were neatly put away. The last wall's only notable decoration was the door from which patients and their parents entered, as Jordan and her husband, Jackson, had just done.
She waited nervously for Doctor Hall to move around his desk and take his chair, which took longer than normal due to his getting on in years. Then Jordan waited more anxiously as he opened their paper work and reviewed it. He made the typical doctor non-committal "hmm" sound, and the stereotypical motion of looking down then back up the chart as if he could read a whole page at once in a few seconds simply by scanning it backwards. He even had the little metal framed glasses, which he held up slightly with his right hand so he could peer out from underneath them at what he was supposedly reading. All of it simply unsettled Jordan further. Shouldn't he have already seen all of this? Shouldn't he already know what was wrong with her daughter!? Why was he going through motions and wasting time right in front of her when he already had the answer!
Jackson put a steady hand on Jordan's arm, signaling her to calm down. She managed to peel her eyes away from the doctor to look at her husband. He was leaning slightly over the arm of his chair towards her, his face was empty of emotion but his eyes were steady and strong. She could practically hear him repeating to her "It's okay, everything is going to be fine," as he had over and over again the last several days. She simply nodded, then slumped back in her chair to await a verdict.
Doctor Hall finally set the folder down, clasped his hands together over it, and looked up at them. "Your daughter is quite sane," he informed them bluntly. "Much more so than would be expected under the circumstances," he added with a trace of approval in his voice.
Jordan failed to react. She was waiting for the "BUT". This sounded like good news, BUT there was always more. There had been every other time they had talked to a doctor in the last several years.
Jackson simply nodded, as if saying of course his daughter was in perfect mental health.
"Her outbursts, her occasional anti-social nature (introspection), her sudden mood shifts, her refusal to be parted with the stuffed animal," Doctor Hall, went on to say, "are all consistent with her situation." He moved one of his arms and picked up a piece of paper. "With your permission, if you recall, her medical records had been sent over. Everything is as I would expect it to be for someone with as severe a disease as she has." He set the paper back down and leaned slightly back in his chair.
(Here it comes,) Jordan thought, and braced herself for the bad news, squeezing Jackson's hand. He placed his other one over hers.
"It is quite clear to me," Doctor Hall announced, "Elizabeth has a Guardian."
Neither parent responded. Jordan blinked a few times while her mind tried to process what she had just been told, but she came up with nothing. Was that bad... or good?
"A guardian?" Jackson eventually asked for the both of them.
Doctor Hall nodded. "Yes." He paused a moment, then leaned forward on one elbow, taking his glasses into his hand and almost nibbling on the end of one side. "You see, a guardian is a being that responds to certain needs in a child. It can take pretty much any form the child wants, whatever is most useful in relating to the child. Different needs cause different guardians, and a child's guardian can change over the years. Guardians, if not bound up in a beloved object, are invisible and so of course considered imaginary friends," he explained with a dismissive wave of his hand holding his glasses. "Those in a physical form," he started the other side of the explanation by opening his other hand and moving slightly outwards, "are generally considered safety blankets or comfort toys. Eventually children out grow their guardians, and most go on to lead perfectly normal lives." His hands returned to their original positions, one on the desk, the other holding the glasses near his mouth in a thoughtful manner. "But guardians are essential to many children growing up healthy and well adjusted, especially in extreme cases like your daughter's." He paused again, looking back and forth from Jackson to Jordan with a look that asked if they had any questions so far.
"So when she's talking to Claire, her stuffed animal...?" Jordan started to ask slowly, trying to put together some understanding of what she was being told. "Holding only half a conversation..."
"She is actually talking with her Guardian," Doctor Hall confirmed. "And it is talking back, to her."
"So... Claire is real?" Jackson asked, his voice full of doubt.
"Undoubtedly," Doctor Hall replied.
Jordan and Jackson turned to each other, sharing a look. "Okay," Jackson started to speak first, turning back to face the doctor, "say we do believe you-"
"I do," Jordan interrupted. "Such things can be real, I know it." She glanced sideways at Jackson. "We, know it."
Jackson gave a quiet "hmmph", and sat back in his chair, indicating he was not about to fight this argument.
Doctor Hall quietly looked back and forth between the two for a moment, then let the comments slide. "Elizabeth's case is special, however," he continued on with his explanation. "I have been tracking guardians for decades. It's not typical for a guardian to have a very normal and real type name such as Claire. Unless it's a doll that comes pre-named and becomes a guardian." He gave a slight shrug as he opened his hands to the two in front of him, indicating this just happened to be the case. "Younger children have too hard a time pronouncing real names, and in general children prefer to pick identifying names, like binky or blanket, or simply make up creative names." He looked down at a pile of folders on one side of his desk. "I've been able to follow several guardians through the childhoods of multiple children, despite name changes, as their characteristics and behavior with the child they are guarding do not change. Even when I come across new Guardians, usually they are simply new to me but have been around, already identified by another specialist." He looked back up at the parents. "I do not believe this is the case with Elizabeth and Claire. I think Claire may be a new guardian."
"New guardian?" Jordan asked, the oh-no feeling in her stomach knotting tighter.
Doctor Hall nodded. "In all my years, I have only come across a new guardian two other times, and my associate here has only come across one once. All three times, the Guardian was an older sibling of the child in question, one who had died before the younger child started manifesting symptoms of a guardian."
Jordan inhaled broken sounding breath, turned and grasped her husband's arm with both her hands. She shut her eyes tight as her head dropped slightly.
"I have to ask," Doctor Hall's voice spoke quietly, respectfully, almost with apology, "did you two have an older child?"
Jordan clenched her teeth to keep her chin from quivering as she breathed.
"We had an older daughter," Jackson's voice replied very slowly, fighting to keep control. Jordan could not tell how he was fairing, for she didn't dare open her eyes. "She died, from the same disease Elizabeth has," Jordan continued. "Her name... was Claire."
Whatever Doctor Hall's reaction was, Jordan did not see. She simply clung to Jackson as she fought back a wave of grief. She felt Jackson's arm pry itself from her grip and move around her body. There were words from him in her ear, meant only for the two of them, but she barely heard them. It was only his tone and his form she was able to react to. But with his help, Jordan soon managed to regain control of herself enough that she felt she could interact with the doctor again.
"We thought," Jordan said in unsteady voice, "she simply remembered it from when she was younger. Elizabeth was one and a half, but she had known her sister's name by then, had been able to say it, when- when Clarie...."
"In all three cases before this," Doctor Hall spoke so Jordan didn't have to, still with subdued voice, "the older children had died from what they were then guarding the younger from. One case even had the guardian passed down from sibling to sibling, though in different forms, until the last grew up." He leaned forward, and with his best comforting voice offered the couple, "This is a good thing. With Clarie, it is much more likely Elizabeth will survive."
Jordan raised her eyes to look Doctor Hall in his, and believed him. She sighed out what hurt she could, and relaxed in Jackson's arms.
Jackson nodded to the doctor. "Then what do we have to do?" he asked. "I mean, we can't go telling her caregivers and teachers that her older sister's spirit is causing her to act out."
Doctor Hall nodded in understanding. "You continue with Elizabeth as her doctors instruct, and I will handle her teachers. Any caregivers- nurses or whomever- can be told or not as you see fit, as much or little as you see fit. They already deal with many patients, and since Elizabeth is not violent I doubt they much care how she gets through her sessions and treatments, so long as she does."
Jackson and Doctor Hall went over more details and specifics, Jackson being sure all possibilities of any sort he could think of were taken care of. Then a little round of small talk, before it was clear the meeting was starting to wrap up.
"Do you have any other questions?" Doctor Hall asked.
"Doctor?" Jordan asked lightly. "Are all guardians... like ours?"
Doctor Hall smiled a little, almost bittersweet smile. "Yes. All guardians used to be children. They tend towards being with children who are going through similar things as they did before they died. It seems to be how they know how to help best."
Jordan nodded. "And when the child grows up," she started another question, her eyes taking on a far off look, "they always move on to another?"
Doctor Hall started to shake his head. "Honestly, I do not know what happens to them all. There are many, yes, who move on to other children. I've been able to match several, my colleague many more, and across the country some of my guardians have been found just as I find those first identified by others. In fact, all of those who were not tied to an object have turned up again, eventually, with another child somewhere. Though only some of those who were material have turned up again." He shrugged. "I do not know what happens to the rest, or even what happens to Guardians when they are between children needing them."
Jordan nodded slightly, and leaned her head against her husband. "I do."
Doctor Hall looked genuinely surprised. So much so, it was his turn to not speak for a moment. "You do?" he finally managed to get out. "What?"
"They sleep," Jordan replied simply.
"Sleep," the doctor echoed neutrally.
Jordan nodded more firmly this time. "Mine still does. She hardly wakes up anymore. But, she's still there.... I can still feel her when I need her."
Jackson sighed deeply. Doctor Hall looked to him, and he nodded solemnly back. "She has this doll," he started to explain to the doctor. "Ever since she was a child...."
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Guardians - Sara's Submission - Part Three
I just realized that this is a pretty lopsided set of parts, as three is significantly longer than the other two. The whole thing is actually longer than I thought: 13 pages at 14 point type.
I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I'd love to see some comments when I get back on Monday. And some other stories too.
Maya was not going to make it.
Even running as fast as she possibly could, Maya felt like the subway station remained an impossible distance away. She didn’t dare look back for fear that what she saw might leave her too frightened to even run. But she could hear her pursuers, calling after her, chasing her, gaining on her.
She had kept to the main streets so far. She always took that way; it was the most direct and the best lit at night. But was it the right choice now? If she kept to the main streets, they were going to catch up to her. The backstreets were dark, less conspicuous, more dangerous. But maybe she could lose the gang in their twists and turns, or at least buy a few extra minutes to reach the subway safely.
Maya didn’t have time to weight the decision. She picked a likely looking side street and turned as suddenly as she could, hoping her pursuers would take a minute to notice where she’d gone. The move gained her a few seconds, but soon she could hear them behind her again. She took another turn, just barely glancing to see if the street led anywhere. Another few seconds, and they were on her trail again. Another turn, another delay. It wasn’t much, but it was still time and she was still getting closer to the subway. One more turn and she’d be back on the main street, just a little more than a block from safety. She darted left without hesitation.
Maya came to a dead stop, her legs protesting the sudden cease of motion. In front of her was a high brick wall. She had gone down a dead end street. The wall towered above her mockingly as she scrambled to find a handhold on its rough surface. But she found nothing. She heard a yell from behind and knew she’d run out of time.
Slowly, Maya turned around. She didn’t want to, but there was nothing else she could do now. She had to face what was coming. The gang had gathered at the entry of the dead end alley. Maya could see now that there were seven of them, all dressed in the same hooded sweatshirts. They came towards her at an easy pace now, no longer in a hurry now that she had nowhere left to run. Maya backed herself against the wall, knowing it wouldn’t help her.
“I didn’t see anything,” she said weakly. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Even now, the alley was so dark that she couldn’t see the gang’s faces very well. She would never have been able to recognize them, describe them. The one closest to her sneered.
“Then why’d you run?” His question came at normal volume. Just as they no longer had to chase Maya anymore, they no longer needed to yell at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. The leader gave a short, humorless laugh. They were closer enough now that Maya could see the glint of metal in their hands. Probably knives. If they’d had guns, they would have shot her when she ran.
Maya wanted to run, to fight, to do anything to at least try and keep the inevitable from happening. But she knew there was no point. Even the nearest windows were dark, shuttered, and barred. No help was coming. She huddled against the wall, fully aware that nothing she could do could stop her from getting killed.
Then she heard it. To her surprise, they all heard it. From somewhere above, an angry roar broke the quiet of the night. Maya’s would be killers looked at each other in confusion, disturbed by the closeness of the cry. They didn’t know what it was. Maya did, though she deeply wished she didn’t.
She was ready for what came next, even though she didn’t want it to happen. A massive shadow dove down from above the alley. The huge form landed right in front of her, between Maya and the gang. Maya watched the translucent bat-like wings fold back and the great reptilian head rise up.
Tyr.
Maya closed her eyes tightly, covered her ears, and turned away. She had to shut this out, get back to the real world. Even as bad as what was really happening might be, she couldn’t let herself fall away into fantasy again. Not after all this time
“Leave . . . her . . . alone,” Tyr growled, loud enough for Maya to hear.
Maya didn’t want to react. She knew she shouldn’t. But something in her still welled up completely unbidden when she heard Tyr speak. Talking had always been difficult for Tyr. Hearing her say something defensive after all these years still touched Maya.
Almost angrily, Maya shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. Was it still that easy for her to think that way, like Tyr was real? She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself. When she opened her eyes, Tyr would be gone. She’d still be facing death, but wasn’t that better than trying to escape reality with a delusion?
Maya opened her eyes slowly and was immediately disappointed. Tyr was still there, crouched down protectively as the men approached her. Maya could only count five of them now; the other two must have run off. The leader charged at Tyr, wielding what Maya could now clearly see was a knife. Tyr lunged forward to meet him and flung him back with the side of her gigantic arm. The remaining four thugs jumped at Tyr and the fight was on. Between the darkness and the speed of the fighters, Maya couldn’t tell what was going on anymore. She didn’t even want to know. She had driven out her memories of Tyr for years, but even now, forced to confront them again, she couldn’t recall ever imagining Tyr interacting with other people. Let alone fighting them. If her delusion was this intense, what was really happening had to be too horrible for her to face.
Maya tried every focusing exercise she’d been taught to stop imagining Tyr. The gang was too busy taking on Tyr to notice her, so she was able to concentrate. But still, it didn’t work. She still saw her imaginary friend taking on a real threat. She even saw a clear space where she could rush by, escape the alley, get to safety.
“Don’t indulge the delusion,” Maya could hear her psychologist – the one who had finally made Tyr leave – saying. “Even if it seems like a better choice than the real ones you have to make, it’s not real. Every time you choose imagination over reality, you give it more power over you.”
Maya knew it was wrong. She should just stay right here until the hallucination passed and take whatever consequences reality brought. But Maya’s psychologist had never anticipated a choice between running to safety, even an imaginary safety, and dying in an alley. Did it even matter now? At worst, she was just delaying the inevitable.
Maya made her decision. She took one last glance at the brawl, still centered on a thing that did not exist, checked to make sure it was safe, and ran. She kept going, fast at first, but then a little slower. She even allowed herself to look back once, though she kept walking. No one was following her, not even Tyr.
Turning a corner, Maya saw the light of the subway station, just one street down from the dead end alleyway. Maya kept walking, but her steps were more hesitant now. It was one thing to get out of a bad situation in her imagination. But how long could this go on? Would she take the imaginary subway home to her imaginary apartment, wake up and call her imaginary mother in the morning? How long before reality intruded?
Unless, of course . . .
Maya was at the entry to the stairway that led down into the subway station. Her hand rested on the metal railing, which was cool to the touch. All the old questions slowly started coming back. If she were imagining this, would she have imagined the railing to feel cool? Could she change it to warm if she wanted, or even to water, or a snake? And how, as a five-year-old child, had she ever imagined something as complex as Tyr, a huge humanoid dragon with poor hearing and speech problems? How was it that Tyr’s appearance had never changed, not even now? And why had she imagined a giant monster as her protector and friend instead of something more pleasant looking? The only real answer she had ever come up with was one the psychologists disliked and she didn’t really want to entertain either. The idea that it might actually be real just raised too many more questions that no one could answer, or wanted to answer. So Maya had just learned to stop asking. But now it seemed unavoidable. Was there any possibility that this could all be real?
Maya shook her head. Of course it wasn’t. Either something else has distracted the gang and allowed her to escape and she’d just inserted her old imaginary friend in its place, or she would stop hallucinating any minute now and find herself dealing with whatever had really happened to her. For now, she would deal with what was in front of her, take the subway, go home. At worst, she might have to cope with controlling her delusion again, but it was certainly better than dying.
She was about to take the first step down into the subway when she heard Tyr scream. Maya nearly fell down the next two steps, only managing to steady herself by grasping the railing. The cry ripped at her, as if something inside of her was directly affected by it. Maya gripped the railing tightly, as the cold metal was her only link to reality.
“It isn’t real,” she told herself, “It can’t be real. It can’t. Don’t give in to it.”
But the feeling was still there, a throbbing pain inside of her that she knew meant Tyr was hurt. Her logical side was reminding her that, even in her hallucinations, Tyr had never been hurt so she couldn’t possibly know that this supposed sensation meant that. But she couldn’t deny it. She knew, just as Tyr had always known when Maya needed her. And Tyr had always been there for her. Just like she had this time.
Maya stood, not even using the railing for balance. She knew what she was doing was insane, but she didn’t care anymore. Determined, she began to run back to the alley. On the way, something caught her eye. In an open garbage can rested a thin wooden board, broken on one end. Maya didn’t even stop. She just reached out and grabbed the board. It came easily to her hand, as if it belonged to her. Gripping her newfound weapon firmly, she ran back to the alley.
It only took her a second to take in the scene. Three of the remaining thugs were strewn about the alley and showing no signs of getting up again anytime soon. The remaining two had somehow overpowered Tyr and were standing over her. One of them had his knife raised. Maya thought it might be the leader, but it really didn’t matter. She never stopped moving, never hesitated. As if she’d been doing it all her life, she swung the broken board and the back of the leader’s head.
The emotion Maya felt as her makeshift weapon connected with the back of another person’s head was strange. She felt some morbid satisfaction, and some relief that this insane plan had worked. But there was also fear, horror, and even a bit of regret. Maya knew in that moment that she might be killing someone, and that there was no turning back. She didn’t have time to process it then, but later she realized that in that moment, she fully accepted that everything that was happening to her was real. At the subway stairs, she had decided that she didn’t care if it wasn’t. But when she struck the man in the back of the head with all the strength she had, she knew it was real. Because even if she could imagine the cold feeling of a metal railing, an escape from a darkened alleyway full of men who wanted to kill her, and a protector dragon, she knew she could never imagine a set of emotions as complex as the ones she was feeling at that moment.
The gang leader slumped forward and fell to the pavement. The one remaining member of the gang still standing gaped at Maya, shocked. Maya glared at him, brandishing her wooden board. Though her attention was on the final thug, she was relieved to hear a low grunt as Tyr rose and stood behind her.
“Get out,” Maya snarled, and Tyr growled to encourage the thug to obey. He quickly did, rushing back out of the alley, never to return.
The danger past, Maya sank back against the alley wall and let out a sigh. She glanced down at the other gang members, lying still at her feet. It was too dark to determine their conditions. They could well be dead. Or thy might be merely unconscious. They could wake up at any time. But it didn’t matter. They could handle any of them.
“They”. She and Tyr.
Tyr was standing by Maya’s side now. She was hunched over, almost on all fours. Maya dimly remembered that Tyr usually stood like that. She only rose to her fully height when she found something threatening. Her feather-like crest had lowered to a relaxed position. Even in the dark, Maya could make out a slash across Tyr’s nose and several stab wounds in her right arm.
“Oh Tyr,” Maya said in a whispered. She reached out slowly and touched the huge muscled arm beneath the injury.
“Doesn’t . . . hurt,” the dragon grunted, and Maya knew she was being mostly honest. Tyr’s thick hide appeared to have saved her from serious injury.
“How did you find me?” Maya asked. It was just the first of many questions that came to her mind now that they were both safe. Where had Tyr gone after Maya sent her away? Why had she come back now? More importantly, what would she do now that she was here?
“I . . . felt . . . you,” Tyr said simply. “I . . . came.”
Suddenly, Maya’s other questions didn’t seem so pressing. How long had it been? At least ten years. Probably more. More than ten years since she had told Tyr that she wasn’t needed or wanted, that she wasn’t even real. More than ten years of Maya willing herself to forget, of telling herself that none of it actually happened. And still, after all that, Tyr had come. Maya had needed her and Tyr had come.
In spite of everything that had happened that night, Maya felt a greater calm than she had in years. Though the adrenaline rush she had felt when she had decided to go back for Tyr was subsiding, she felt no less sense of purpose, no less clear about what she had to do. They would go back and find the gang’s original victim, back where this had all started. He or she would need help. Maya wasn’t sure yet who could and couldn’t see Tyr, so she’d have to be careful about that, wait for other people to say something rather than assuming that they could see Tyr. Once the person Maya had seen being attacked was taken care of, she would alert the authorities about the gang. If the police asked, she would tell them she used the wooden board in self-defense. She’d tell them the truth, minus Tyr. I might be difficult to explain some things if Tyr had been particularly vicious in her attacks. But Maya felt strangely certain that it would be all right. And then, they would go home. She and Tyr. If Tyr wanted to come.
“We need to go help someone else,” began Maya, before realizing that she didn’t need to say anything. She would have to get used to that again.
“Do you want to come with me?” Maya added. That, she felt, needed to be said aloud.
“Yes.”
Tyr apparently agreed that both question and answer were important enough to be spoken. Maya could feel the flood of relief, mixed in with joy and surprise, from Tyr at being asked to stay. It was almost overwhelming, but they still had a lot to do.
Maya rested her hand gently on Tyr’s side as they walked out of the alleyway together.
I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I'd love to see some comments when I get back on Monday. And some other stories too.
Maya was not going to make it.
Even running as fast as she possibly could, Maya felt like the subway station remained an impossible distance away. She didn’t dare look back for fear that what she saw might leave her too frightened to even run. But she could hear her pursuers, calling after her, chasing her, gaining on her.
She had kept to the main streets so far. She always took that way; it was the most direct and the best lit at night. But was it the right choice now? If she kept to the main streets, they were going to catch up to her. The backstreets were dark, less conspicuous, more dangerous. But maybe she could lose the gang in their twists and turns, or at least buy a few extra minutes to reach the subway safely.
Maya didn’t have time to weight the decision. She picked a likely looking side street and turned as suddenly as she could, hoping her pursuers would take a minute to notice where she’d gone. The move gained her a few seconds, but soon she could hear them behind her again. She took another turn, just barely glancing to see if the street led anywhere. Another few seconds, and they were on her trail again. Another turn, another delay. It wasn’t much, but it was still time and she was still getting closer to the subway. One more turn and she’d be back on the main street, just a little more than a block from safety. She darted left without hesitation.
Maya came to a dead stop, her legs protesting the sudden cease of motion. In front of her was a high brick wall. She had gone down a dead end street. The wall towered above her mockingly as she scrambled to find a handhold on its rough surface. But she found nothing. She heard a yell from behind and knew she’d run out of time.
Slowly, Maya turned around. She didn’t want to, but there was nothing else she could do now. She had to face what was coming. The gang had gathered at the entry of the dead end alley. Maya could see now that there were seven of them, all dressed in the same hooded sweatshirts. They came towards her at an easy pace now, no longer in a hurry now that she had nowhere left to run. Maya backed herself against the wall, knowing it wouldn’t help her.
“I didn’t see anything,” she said weakly. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Even now, the alley was so dark that she couldn’t see the gang’s faces very well. She would never have been able to recognize them, describe them. The one closest to her sneered.
“Then why’d you run?” His question came at normal volume. Just as they no longer had to chase Maya anymore, they no longer needed to yell at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. The leader gave a short, humorless laugh. They were closer enough now that Maya could see the glint of metal in their hands. Probably knives. If they’d had guns, they would have shot her when she ran.
Maya wanted to run, to fight, to do anything to at least try and keep the inevitable from happening. But she knew there was no point. Even the nearest windows were dark, shuttered, and barred. No help was coming. She huddled against the wall, fully aware that nothing she could do could stop her from getting killed.
Then she heard it. To her surprise, they all heard it. From somewhere above, an angry roar broke the quiet of the night. Maya’s would be killers looked at each other in confusion, disturbed by the closeness of the cry. They didn’t know what it was. Maya did, though she deeply wished she didn’t.
She was ready for what came next, even though she didn’t want it to happen. A massive shadow dove down from above the alley. The huge form landed right in front of her, between Maya and the gang. Maya watched the translucent bat-like wings fold back and the great reptilian head rise up.
Tyr.
Maya closed her eyes tightly, covered her ears, and turned away. She had to shut this out, get back to the real world. Even as bad as what was really happening might be, she couldn’t let herself fall away into fantasy again. Not after all this time
“Leave . . . her . . . alone,” Tyr growled, loud enough for Maya to hear.
Maya didn’t want to react. She knew she shouldn’t. But something in her still welled up completely unbidden when she heard Tyr speak. Talking had always been difficult for Tyr. Hearing her say something defensive after all these years still touched Maya.
Almost angrily, Maya shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. Was it still that easy for her to think that way, like Tyr was real? She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself. When she opened her eyes, Tyr would be gone. She’d still be facing death, but wasn’t that better than trying to escape reality with a delusion?
Maya opened her eyes slowly and was immediately disappointed. Tyr was still there, crouched down protectively as the men approached her. Maya could only count five of them now; the other two must have run off. The leader charged at Tyr, wielding what Maya could now clearly see was a knife. Tyr lunged forward to meet him and flung him back with the side of her gigantic arm. The remaining four thugs jumped at Tyr and the fight was on. Between the darkness and the speed of the fighters, Maya couldn’t tell what was going on anymore. She didn’t even want to know. She had driven out her memories of Tyr for years, but even now, forced to confront them again, she couldn’t recall ever imagining Tyr interacting with other people. Let alone fighting them. If her delusion was this intense, what was really happening had to be too horrible for her to face.
Maya tried every focusing exercise she’d been taught to stop imagining Tyr. The gang was too busy taking on Tyr to notice her, so she was able to concentrate. But still, it didn’t work. She still saw her imaginary friend taking on a real threat. She even saw a clear space where she could rush by, escape the alley, get to safety.
“Don’t indulge the delusion,” Maya could hear her psychologist – the one who had finally made Tyr leave – saying. “Even if it seems like a better choice than the real ones you have to make, it’s not real. Every time you choose imagination over reality, you give it more power over you.”
Maya knew it was wrong. She should just stay right here until the hallucination passed and take whatever consequences reality brought. But Maya’s psychologist had never anticipated a choice between running to safety, even an imaginary safety, and dying in an alley. Did it even matter now? At worst, she was just delaying the inevitable.
Maya made her decision. She took one last glance at the brawl, still centered on a thing that did not exist, checked to make sure it was safe, and ran. She kept going, fast at first, but then a little slower. She even allowed herself to look back once, though she kept walking. No one was following her, not even Tyr.
Turning a corner, Maya saw the light of the subway station, just one street down from the dead end alleyway. Maya kept walking, but her steps were more hesitant now. It was one thing to get out of a bad situation in her imagination. But how long could this go on? Would she take the imaginary subway home to her imaginary apartment, wake up and call her imaginary mother in the morning? How long before reality intruded?
Unless, of course . . .
Maya was at the entry to the stairway that led down into the subway station. Her hand rested on the metal railing, which was cool to the touch. All the old questions slowly started coming back. If she were imagining this, would she have imagined the railing to feel cool? Could she change it to warm if she wanted, or even to water, or a snake? And how, as a five-year-old child, had she ever imagined something as complex as Tyr, a huge humanoid dragon with poor hearing and speech problems? How was it that Tyr’s appearance had never changed, not even now? And why had she imagined a giant monster as her protector and friend instead of something more pleasant looking? The only real answer she had ever come up with was one the psychologists disliked and she didn’t really want to entertain either. The idea that it might actually be real just raised too many more questions that no one could answer, or wanted to answer. So Maya had just learned to stop asking. But now it seemed unavoidable. Was there any possibility that this could all be real?
Maya shook her head. Of course it wasn’t. Either something else has distracted the gang and allowed her to escape and she’d just inserted her old imaginary friend in its place, or she would stop hallucinating any minute now and find herself dealing with whatever had really happened to her. For now, she would deal with what was in front of her, take the subway, go home. At worst, she might have to cope with controlling her delusion again, but it was certainly better than dying.
She was about to take the first step down into the subway when she heard Tyr scream. Maya nearly fell down the next two steps, only managing to steady herself by grasping the railing. The cry ripped at her, as if something inside of her was directly affected by it. Maya gripped the railing tightly, as the cold metal was her only link to reality.
“It isn’t real,” she told herself, “It can’t be real. It can’t. Don’t give in to it.”
But the feeling was still there, a throbbing pain inside of her that she knew meant Tyr was hurt. Her logical side was reminding her that, even in her hallucinations, Tyr had never been hurt so she couldn’t possibly know that this supposed sensation meant that. But she couldn’t deny it. She knew, just as Tyr had always known when Maya needed her. And Tyr had always been there for her. Just like she had this time.
Maya stood, not even using the railing for balance. She knew what she was doing was insane, but she didn’t care anymore. Determined, she began to run back to the alley. On the way, something caught her eye. In an open garbage can rested a thin wooden board, broken on one end. Maya didn’t even stop. She just reached out and grabbed the board. It came easily to her hand, as if it belonged to her. Gripping her newfound weapon firmly, she ran back to the alley.
It only took her a second to take in the scene. Three of the remaining thugs were strewn about the alley and showing no signs of getting up again anytime soon. The remaining two had somehow overpowered Tyr and were standing over her. One of them had his knife raised. Maya thought it might be the leader, but it really didn’t matter. She never stopped moving, never hesitated. As if she’d been doing it all her life, she swung the broken board and the back of the leader’s head.
The emotion Maya felt as her makeshift weapon connected with the back of another person’s head was strange. She felt some morbid satisfaction, and some relief that this insane plan had worked. But there was also fear, horror, and even a bit of regret. Maya knew in that moment that she might be killing someone, and that there was no turning back. She didn’t have time to process it then, but later she realized that in that moment, she fully accepted that everything that was happening to her was real. At the subway stairs, she had decided that she didn’t care if it wasn’t. But when she struck the man in the back of the head with all the strength she had, she knew it was real. Because even if she could imagine the cold feeling of a metal railing, an escape from a darkened alleyway full of men who wanted to kill her, and a protector dragon, she knew she could never imagine a set of emotions as complex as the ones she was feeling at that moment.
The gang leader slumped forward and fell to the pavement. The one remaining member of the gang still standing gaped at Maya, shocked. Maya glared at him, brandishing her wooden board. Though her attention was on the final thug, she was relieved to hear a low grunt as Tyr rose and stood behind her.
“Get out,” Maya snarled, and Tyr growled to encourage the thug to obey. He quickly did, rushing back out of the alley, never to return.
The danger past, Maya sank back against the alley wall and let out a sigh. She glanced down at the other gang members, lying still at her feet. It was too dark to determine their conditions. They could well be dead. Or thy might be merely unconscious. They could wake up at any time. But it didn’t matter. They could handle any of them.
“They”. She and Tyr.
Tyr was standing by Maya’s side now. She was hunched over, almost on all fours. Maya dimly remembered that Tyr usually stood like that. She only rose to her fully height when she found something threatening. Her feather-like crest had lowered to a relaxed position. Even in the dark, Maya could make out a slash across Tyr’s nose and several stab wounds in her right arm.
“Oh Tyr,” Maya said in a whispered. She reached out slowly and touched the huge muscled arm beneath the injury.
“Doesn’t . . . hurt,” the dragon grunted, and Maya knew she was being mostly honest. Tyr’s thick hide appeared to have saved her from serious injury.
“How did you find me?” Maya asked. It was just the first of many questions that came to her mind now that they were both safe. Where had Tyr gone after Maya sent her away? Why had she come back now? More importantly, what would she do now that she was here?
“I . . . felt . . . you,” Tyr said simply. “I . . . came.”
Suddenly, Maya’s other questions didn’t seem so pressing. How long had it been? At least ten years. Probably more. More than ten years since she had told Tyr that she wasn’t needed or wanted, that she wasn’t even real. More than ten years of Maya willing herself to forget, of telling herself that none of it actually happened. And still, after all that, Tyr had come. Maya had needed her and Tyr had come.
In spite of everything that had happened that night, Maya felt a greater calm than she had in years. Though the adrenaline rush she had felt when she had decided to go back for Tyr was subsiding, she felt no less sense of purpose, no less clear about what she had to do. They would go back and find the gang’s original victim, back where this had all started. He or she would need help. Maya wasn’t sure yet who could and couldn’t see Tyr, so she’d have to be careful about that, wait for other people to say something rather than assuming that they could see Tyr. Once the person Maya had seen being attacked was taken care of, she would alert the authorities about the gang. If the police asked, she would tell them she used the wooden board in self-defense. She’d tell them the truth, minus Tyr. I might be difficult to explain some things if Tyr had been particularly vicious in her attacks. But Maya felt strangely certain that it would be all right. And then, they would go home. She and Tyr. If Tyr wanted to come.
“We need to go help someone else,” began Maya, before realizing that she didn’t need to say anything. She would have to get used to that again.
“Do you want to come with me?” Maya added. That, she felt, needed to be said aloud.
“Yes.”
Tyr apparently agreed that both question and answer were important enough to be spoken. Maya could feel the flood of relief, mixed in with joy and surprise, from Tyr at being asked to stay. It was almost overwhelming, but they still had a lot to do.
Maya rested her hand gently on Tyr’s side as they walked out of the alleyway together.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Guardians - Sara's Submission - Part Two
Getting into the actual point of this exercise, which is also where I started to enjoy the writing. Comments still welcome.
Tyr stood almost motionless on the building’s roof, watching the people down below. Even with her sharp eyes, it was hard to see every individual from such a height. Tyr only gave them a cursory glance as they bustled around on the faraway street. The one thing she could tell from up here was that none of them were Maya.
Tyr sighed and finally pulled herself from the edge of the building. She leaned heavily against one of the large vents and slid down to a seated position. She knew that trying to find Maya was pointless. She did it because she didn’t know what else to do. Even if she ever could find Maya again, Maya didn’t want her.
It had been a long time since Maya had told Tyr to go away, that Tyr wasn’t real, and that the only way Maya could move on with her life was if Tyr left her alone. It felt like a long time anyway; Tyr never had much sense of time beyond day and night and seasons, and she had lost count of the seasons since she agreed to Maya’s wishes and left.
Her first thought had been that what Maya had said was true. So much of Tyr’s experience of the world was through Maya that it hardly occurred to her to think that something Maya said might not be true. Even now, she still considered the possibility sometimes, that she might be nothing more than the product of Maya’s imagination. But if that were the case, then wouldn’t Tyr have ceased to be the moment Maya decided she was no longer needed and denounced her as little more than a hallucination? How could an imagining continue on when no one believed in it, not even its creator?
Once Tyr had realized that she did still exist without Maya, she had tried to understand what she was meant to do now. She had hoped that some long forgotten knowledge of her origins might come back to her, for Tyr could not remember a time before Maya. Her earliest memory was of standing outside of Maya’s house and knowing that Maya needed her. Tyr thought that perhaps if she searched hard enough, she might find another child who needed her like Maya had. She had tried, wandering first around the neighborhood where Maya lived, then broadening her search to nearby towns and finally the city. But the search had been fruitless. She wandered among the humans just as unseen as she had been when she was Maya’s protector. There were some of them who would stop suddenly and turn in her direction. But they seemed only able to see Tyr in brief, indirect glimpses. When they turned to face her directly, they clearly saw nothing. Tyr paid particular attention to children and did discover some who may have needed her and whom she would have very much liked to watch over. But none of them were calling out for someone in the way that Maya had been, and Tyr was just as invisible to them as to everyone else.
So it was sheer desperation that drove Tyr to search for Maya. She wasn’t entirely sure what she hoped to gain from Maya. Certainly not a return to their previous relationship. Maya had made it clear that she no longer needed Tyr. But because nothing else had worked, Tyr had concluded that she needed something from Maya in order to move on.
She had managed to find her way back to Maya’s house, a hard task with the bond between them all but gone. But Maya was not there anymore. Maya’s mother still lived there and, unsure of what else to do, Tyr followed her for a while, hoping for some clue to where Maya had gone. But it soon became evident that this was a dead end. There were no visual signs of Maya’s new location and anything else Tyr couldn’t understand. Tyr had never been able to hear well and without Maya and their connection to explain what people were saying, all human speech sounded like incoherent whispers to Tyr.
Without any real leads to follow, Tyr could only rely on the remnant of her bond with Maya to try and find her. She had given all her energy over to seeking out the tiny impressions of Maya that came to her less and less frequently. They were like small flickers of light in the distance, though more felt than seen. Tyr has tracked them relentlessly until each one faded into nothingness and Tyr was left to wait for the next. She was now fairly certain that she had found the right city, but that was as close as she seemed able to get. The sense of Maya became fewer and fainter, and now Tyr was not even sure how long it had been since she last felt Maya’s presence. It wasn’t entirely due to Tyr’s poor sense of time. She had also found herself “sleeping” more and more often. Tyr called it “sleep” for lack of a better word, but it was more like long periods of nothingness, no dreams, no sensation of anything at all. She only knew that it had happened when she awoke and she never knew how long the state had lasted. It had crossed Tyr’s mind more than once that maybe ceasing to be did not happen all at once, but gradually. Maybe it was only through Tyr’s own stubbornness that she still fought her fate.
That idea somehow seemed appealing to Tyr tonight. Maybe it had just been too long, too long searching and waiting and wondering what it was all leading to. Maybe it was time to rest. Tyr could feel it slowly beginning; the heavy sensation in her limbs that signaled a rest that was more than rest. She allowed herself to give in it and laid down on he rooftop. It was pleasantly cool, though she was gradually losing the feeling of the coolness. Her senses began to dull, starting at her extremities, then working their way up. Tyr let it come.
The sleep had all but taken Tyr when she felt it. She almost didn’t recognize it at first, and it was so small she might have not noticed it at all. But as the moments passed, she realized what it was. The feeling that was not within her, the sensation that had a place. It was Maya, after all this time. A tiny little speck, no bigger than the reflection off the point of a needle. Tyr welcomed it, but still let the sleep proceed. She could only tell from this miniscule sensation that Maya was there, and her assumption was that it was Maya giving her blessing for Tyr to leave, Maya saying goodbye. Tyr waited for it to fade so the sleep could take her.
But the sense didn’t fade. Tyr thought at first that it was only her imagination, one last hope she had to let go of to find her peace. But no. It was staying, longer than any past sense of Maya had. Staying, and more, though Tyr scarcely let her self believe it at first. It was growing.
The sleep was still progressing, though a little more hesitantly now. The appearance of the impression of Maya seemed to slow it down and it now had to fight to hold Tyr’s attention. But Tyr was fighting back. The sensation was continuing to grow, from an insignificant spark to a bright little flame. As it grew, the hope Tyr felt slowly creeping back to her was joined by another feeling: worry. The sensation had now persisted long enough that Tyr could begin to guess the emotion causing it. Though she hated to admit it to herself, it was the same emotion she always sensed from Maya, the only one she could seem to sense now: fear.
Tyr moved to get up, but her limbs would not respond. The sleep was angered, unwilling to let go of its prize. Even Tyr willing it away failed to stop it now. Tyr strained against it, focusing all of her concentration on the still growing flame that was Maya. It was taking all of her energy just to push herself a few inches off of the ground. The sleep was furious, grabbing and pulling at her viciously. But Tyr pressed on, forcing her protesting body to kneel. The sleep was enraged now, throwing itself over her back like a heavy weight. Tyr strained on. It was physically painful to move now, but still she pulled on and at last, staggered to her feet.
Still the sleep did not yield. It clawed at every part of Tyr’s body and she could almost hear it screaming at her to return to it. Tyr took a stumbling step forward and nearly fell back down. The sleep seemed pleased, confident that Tyr had given the last of her strength. Even Tyr wasn’t sure that she had anything left. She could never reach Maya if she couldn’t even walk. And even if she could, there was still the fact that Maya didn’t want her. But the sensation did not lie and now it crackled like a blazing fire. If she could just move, Tyr knew she could find Maya this time. This sense would not fade. It wasn’t the minor fears she felt from Maya in the past. It was a true, strong need, like the one that had called Tyr to Maya the first time. It was Tyr’s reason for being, and she could not fail to answer it.
Tyr roared, the first time she had roared in longer than she could remember. The sleep shuddered. It fell away, it shriveled, it died. Tyr shook off any lingering trace of it and charged towards the building’s edge. The fear from Maya was like an enormous beacon now and any joy Tyr felt at having such a strong connection to Maya again was overwhelmed by worry about what could cause her to be so afraid. Unhesitating, Tyr leapt from the edge of the building and spread her wings. She sped towards her destination. She would make it in time. She had to make it.
Tyr stood almost motionless on the building’s roof, watching the people down below. Even with her sharp eyes, it was hard to see every individual from such a height. Tyr only gave them a cursory glance as they bustled around on the faraway street. The one thing she could tell from up here was that none of them were Maya.
Tyr sighed and finally pulled herself from the edge of the building. She leaned heavily against one of the large vents and slid down to a seated position. She knew that trying to find Maya was pointless. She did it because she didn’t know what else to do. Even if she ever could find Maya again, Maya didn’t want her.
It had been a long time since Maya had told Tyr to go away, that Tyr wasn’t real, and that the only way Maya could move on with her life was if Tyr left her alone. It felt like a long time anyway; Tyr never had much sense of time beyond day and night and seasons, and she had lost count of the seasons since she agreed to Maya’s wishes and left.
Her first thought had been that what Maya had said was true. So much of Tyr’s experience of the world was through Maya that it hardly occurred to her to think that something Maya said might not be true. Even now, she still considered the possibility sometimes, that she might be nothing more than the product of Maya’s imagination. But if that were the case, then wouldn’t Tyr have ceased to be the moment Maya decided she was no longer needed and denounced her as little more than a hallucination? How could an imagining continue on when no one believed in it, not even its creator?
Once Tyr had realized that she did still exist without Maya, she had tried to understand what she was meant to do now. She had hoped that some long forgotten knowledge of her origins might come back to her, for Tyr could not remember a time before Maya. Her earliest memory was of standing outside of Maya’s house and knowing that Maya needed her. Tyr thought that perhaps if she searched hard enough, she might find another child who needed her like Maya had. She had tried, wandering first around the neighborhood where Maya lived, then broadening her search to nearby towns and finally the city. But the search had been fruitless. She wandered among the humans just as unseen as she had been when she was Maya’s protector. There were some of them who would stop suddenly and turn in her direction. But they seemed only able to see Tyr in brief, indirect glimpses. When they turned to face her directly, they clearly saw nothing. Tyr paid particular attention to children and did discover some who may have needed her and whom she would have very much liked to watch over. But none of them were calling out for someone in the way that Maya had been, and Tyr was just as invisible to them as to everyone else.
So it was sheer desperation that drove Tyr to search for Maya. She wasn’t entirely sure what she hoped to gain from Maya. Certainly not a return to their previous relationship. Maya had made it clear that she no longer needed Tyr. But because nothing else had worked, Tyr had concluded that she needed something from Maya in order to move on.
She had managed to find her way back to Maya’s house, a hard task with the bond between them all but gone. But Maya was not there anymore. Maya’s mother still lived there and, unsure of what else to do, Tyr followed her for a while, hoping for some clue to where Maya had gone. But it soon became evident that this was a dead end. There were no visual signs of Maya’s new location and anything else Tyr couldn’t understand. Tyr had never been able to hear well and without Maya and their connection to explain what people were saying, all human speech sounded like incoherent whispers to Tyr.
Without any real leads to follow, Tyr could only rely on the remnant of her bond with Maya to try and find her. She had given all her energy over to seeking out the tiny impressions of Maya that came to her less and less frequently. They were like small flickers of light in the distance, though more felt than seen. Tyr has tracked them relentlessly until each one faded into nothingness and Tyr was left to wait for the next. She was now fairly certain that she had found the right city, but that was as close as she seemed able to get. The sense of Maya became fewer and fainter, and now Tyr was not even sure how long it had been since she last felt Maya’s presence. It wasn’t entirely due to Tyr’s poor sense of time. She had also found herself “sleeping” more and more often. Tyr called it “sleep” for lack of a better word, but it was more like long periods of nothingness, no dreams, no sensation of anything at all. She only knew that it had happened when she awoke and she never knew how long the state had lasted. It had crossed Tyr’s mind more than once that maybe ceasing to be did not happen all at once, but gradually. Maybe it was only through Tyr’s own stubbornness that she still fought her fate.
That idea somehow seemed appealing to Tyr tonight. Maybe it had just been too long, too long searching and waiting and wondering what it was all leading to. Maybe it was time to rest. Tyr could feel it slowly beginning; the heavy sensation in her limbs that signaled a rest that was more than rest. She allowed herself to give in it and laid down on he rooftop. It was pleasantly cool, though she was gradually losing the feeling of the coolness. Her senses began to dull, starting at her extremities, then working their way up. Tyr let it come.
The sleep had all but taken Tyr when she felt it. She almost didn’t recognize it at first, and it was so small she might have not noticed it at all. But as the moments passed, she realized what it was. The feeling that was not within her, the sensation that had a place. It was Maya, after all this time. A tiny little speck, no bigger than the reflection off the point of a needle. Tyr welcomed it, but still let the sleep proceed. She could only tell from this miniscule sensation that Maya was there, and her assumption was that it was Maya giving her blessing for Tyr to leave, Maya saying goodbye. Tyr waited for it to fade so the sleep could take her.
But the sense didn’t fade. Tyr thought at first that it was only her imagination, one last hope she had to let go of to find her peace. But no. It was staying, longer than any past sense of Maya had. Staying, and more, though Tyr scarcely let her self believe it at first. It was growing.
The sleep was still progressing, though a little more hesitantly now. The appearance of the impression of Maya seemed to slow it down and it now had to fight to hold Tyr’s attention. But Tyr was fighting back. The sensation was continuing to grow, from an insignificant spark to a bright little flame. As it grew, the hope Tyr felt slowly creeping back to her was joined by another feeling: worry. The sensation had now persisted long enough that Tyr could begin to guess the emotion causing it. Though she hated to admit it to herself, it was the same emotion she always sensed from Maya, the only one she could seem to sense now: fear.
Tyr moved to get up, but her limbs would not respond. The sleep was angered, unwilling to let go of its prize. Even Tyr willing it away failed to stop it now. Tyr strained against it, focusing all of her concentration on the still growing flame that was Maya. It was taking all of her energy just to push herself a few inches off of the ground. The sleep was furious, grabbing and pulling at her viciously. But Tyr pressed on, forcing her protesting body to kneel. The sleep was enraged now, throwing itself over her back like a heavy weight. Tyr strained on. It was physically painful to move now, but still she pulled on and at last, staggered to her feet.
Still the sleep did not yield. It clawed at every part of Tyr’s body and she could almost hear it screaming at her to return to it. Tyr took a stumbling step forward and nearly fell back down. The sleep seemed pleased, confident that Tyr had given the last of her strength. Even Tyr wasn’t sure that she had anything left. She could never reach Maya if she couldn’t even walk. And even if she could, there was still the fact that Maya didn’t want her. But the sensation did not lie and now it crackled like a blazing fire. If she could just move, Tyr knew she could find Maya this time. This sense would not fade. It wasn’t the minor fears she felt from Maya in the past. It was a true, strong need, like the one that had called Tyr to Maya the first time. It was Tyr’s reason for being, and she could not fail to answer it.
Tyr roared, the first time she had roared in longer than she could remember. The sleep shuddered. It fell away, it shriveled, it died. Tyr shook off any lingering trace of it and charged towards the building’s edge. The fear from Maya was like an enormous beacon now and any joy Tyr felt at having such a strong connection to Maya again was overwhelmed by worry about what could cause her to be so afraid. Unhesitating, Tyr leapt from the edge of the building and spread her wings. She sped towards her destination. She would make it in time. She had to make it.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Guardians - Sara's Submission - Part One
Believe it or not, submissions for the first topic "Guardians" are due in a week. And believe it or not, I've finished mine! I've been writing it over the past few days and it generally came pretty fast once I got started. I'm posting it now because I'm gonna be just getting back from BotCon the day it's due and may well forget. I'm posting it in free parts because it splits that way naturally and it's more fun that way.
Obviously I've been thinking about this one for a while, though I still only managed to kind of answer maybe one of the questions I put forth. (I hope I didn't give you the impression that you had to answer them all, Jen.) I actually know a good deal more about these characters, but that's another story for another time.
Anyway, I welcome any comments, constructive criticism or questions.
Maya leaned against the concealing wall of the building’s entryway and watched the others from work leave. They had left in a large group, like always, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Even the few who weren’t joining in on whatever tonight’s activity was were sent off with lots of waving and disappointed “awws” from the crowd they were leaving behind. Maya kept a careful eye on them and pulled back into the shadows if any of them showed the slightest sign of turning around, noticing her, and possibly asking with more than a little awkwardness if she would like to join them. Once they were safely out of sight. Maya started down he stairs and around the corner, on her way home.
She’d been working late. They all had. The big shareholder presentation was next week and there were charts to printed, numbers to be finalized, caterers to deal with, and any number of other last minute things yet to be done. So it was dark by the time Maya actually started her walk to the subway station. It didn’t matter though. Even if the street hadn’t been lit, she would have known the way. She had walked this route so many times that it was automatic for her. She though over what she needed to do once she got home. The laundry was starting to pile up and tonight was as good a time as any to take care of it. There were a couple of bills she hadn’t paid yet because work had been so busy. Friday night, so nothing on television she’d want to watch. If she caught the train in time, she could rent a movie before the video place closed. But she had no plans for the weekend, so maybe it would be better to save that for tomorrow.
Maya was about halfway down the second block from work when she heard the noise. She had walked home late before, so she had learned to ignore the sounds of car doors slamming, trashcans falling over, and people arguing just a little too loudly to avoid being heard from the street. But this was something different, something she’d never heard before. It was weak and faint, but still recognizable as a cry of pain. Maya realized with growing unease that it was also unmistakably human.
“Don’t look,” she thought to herself. She knew she shouldn’t. Though she’d never run into it herself before, she knew there had been muggings in the area. One of her coworkers had just been telling his friends about how one of his neighbors got mugged a few weeks back. She knew should just keep walking. But curiosity, combined with the faint hope that it was just someone’s TV turned up too loud, won over. Maya looked.
If she had been standing just a few steps back or ahead, Maya wouldn’t have been able to see down the narrow alleyway between the two buildings. It was too dark to make out much detail. The shadow from one building was keeping out most of the light from the street. But Maya could still make out the figures in the alley. A group of people, their identities completely inscrutable in the darkness, were standing over what Maya could just see was a prostrate form, almost certainly the source of the cry Maya had heard. One of the standing figures snarled something at the downed victim and kicked viciously at the person’s side. The person moaned and curled up defensively just as another of the gang lashed out with a second kick.
“Go,” Maya’s sensible inner voice commanded. “You’ve seen way more than you should have. Get to the subway, tell someone there what you saw. They’ll call the police and everything will be fine.”
But Maya didn’t go. She stood transfixed, just staring at this bizarre scene. It seemed almost unreal and she couldn’t quite believe that it was actually happening. She had read and heard about muggings and people being attacked. She had more experience of her own with the randomness and the aftermath of such attacks than she had ever wanted to. But actually seeing it firsthand was still different. Even though the plan she had laid out for herself was sound, got her to safety, and brought help to the person being attacked, she just couldn’t bring herself to put it into action. There was something in her, something that she couldn’t seem to ignore, that was convinced she needed to stay here and do something. What exactly she should do was unclear, but this part of her felt certain that if she left, the person being attacked would die.
Maya gasped in sudden realization. One of the thugs in the alley was staring directly at her. She had been watching the whole time, but she’d never seen him turn his head. One minute he had been completely focused on the gang’s injured victim, the next he was looking right at Maya. She still couldn’t see him well, but the streetlight gave a flicker of reflection to his glaring eyes. He shouted something at Maya which she completely didn’t catch. She took a hesitant step backwards, and then slowly began to walk away.
It was just seconds later that Maya heard them come after her. They were still yelling and their rushed footsteps were almost as loud. They didn’t seem to care if she or anyone else heard them. Maya started by walking just a little faster, hoping that she was wrong and they weren’t following her. But before she really even made the decision to, she was running, counting every step left before she reached the subway and wishing she had followed her own advice to leave while there was still time.
Obviously I've been thinking about this one for a while, though I still only managed to kind of answer maybe one of the questions I put forth. (I hope I didn't give you the impression that you had to answer them all, Jen.) I actually know a good deal more about these characters, but that's another story for another time.
Anyway, I welcome any comments, constructive criticism or questions.
Maya leaned against the concealing wall of the building’s entryway and watched the others from work leave. They had left in a large group, like always, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Even the few who weren’t joining in on whatever tonight’s activity was were sent off with lots of waving and disappointed “awws” from the crowd they were leaving behind. Maya kept a careful eye on them and pulled back into the shadows if any of them showed the slightest sign of turning around, noticing her, and possibly asking with more than a little awkwardness if she would like to join them. Once they were safely out of sight. Maya started down he stairs and around the corner, on her way home.
She’d been working late. They all had. The big shareholder presentation was next week and there were charts to printed, numbers to be finalized, caterers to deal with, and any number of other last minute things yet to be done. So it was dark by the time Maya actually started her walk to the subway station. It didn’t matter though. Even if the street hadn’t been lit, she would have known the way. She had walked this route so many times that it was automatic for her. She though over what she needed to do once she got home. The laundry was starting to pile up and tonight was as good a time as any to take care of it. There were a couple of bills she hadn’t paid yet because work had been so busy. Friday night, so nothing on television she’d want to watch. If she caught the train in time, she could rent a movie before the video place closed. But she had no plans for the weekend, so maybe it would be better to save that for tomorrow.
Maya was about halfway down the second block from work when she heard the noise. She had walked home late before, so she had learned to ignore the sounds of car doors slamming, trashcans falling over, and people arguing just a little too loudly to avoid being heard from the street. But this was something different, something she’d never heard before. It was weak and faint, but still recognizable as a cry of pain. Maya realized with growing unease that it was also unmistakably human.
“Don’t look,” she thought to herself. She knew she shouldn’t. Though she’d never run into it herself before, she knew there had been muggings in the area. One of her coworkers had just been telling his friends about how one of his neighbors got mugged a few weeks back. She knew should just keep walking. But curiosity, combined with the faint hope that it was just someone’s TV turned up too loud, won over. Maya looked.
If she had been standing just a few steps back or ahead, Maya wouldn’t have been able to see down the narrow alleyway between the two buildings. It was too dark to make out much detail. The shadow from one building was keeping out most of the light from the street. But Maya could still make out the figures in the alley. A group of people, their identities completely inscrutable in the darkness, were standing over what Maya could just see was a prostrate form, almost certainly the source of the cry Maya had heard. One of the standing figures snarled something at the downed victim and kicked viciously at the person’s side. The person moaned and curled up defensively just as another of the gang lashed out with a second kick.
“Go,” Maya’s sensible inner voice commanded. “You’ve seen way more than you should have. Get to the subway, tell someone there what you saw. They’ll call the police and everything will be fine.”
But Maya didn’t go. She stood transfixed, just staring at this bizarre scene. It seemed almost unreal and she couldn’t quite believe that it was actually happening. She had read and heard about muggings and people being attacked. She had more experience of her own with the randomness and the aftermath of such attacks than she had ever wanted to. But actually seeing it firsthand was still different. Even though the plan she had laid out for herself was sound, got her to safety, and brought help to the person being attacked, she just couldn’t bring herself to put it into action. There was something in her, something that she couldn’t seem to ignore, that was convinced she needed to stay here and do something. What exactly she should do was unclear, but this part of her felt certain that if she left, the person being attacked would die.
Maya gasped in sudden realization. One of the thugs in the alley was staring directly at her. She had been watching the whole time, but she’d never seen him turn his head. One minute he had been completely focused on the gang’s injured victim, the next he was looking right at Maya. She still couldn’t see him well, but the streetlight gave a flicker of reflection to his glaring eyes. He shouted something at Maya which she completely didn’t catch. She took a hesitant step backwards, and then slowly began to walk away.
It was just seconds later that Maya heard them come after her. They were still yelling and their rushed footsteps were almost as loud. They didn’t seem to care if she or anyone else heard them. Maya started by walking just a little faster, hoping that she was wrong and they weren’t following her. But before she really even made the decision to, she was running, counting every step left before she reached the subway and wishing she had followed her own advice to leave while there was still time.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
First Topic: Guardians
OK, let's get this show on the road. The first topic for the Front Lobby Bench writing blog will be...
Guardians.
A Guardian is a being that is created in response to a deep, unfulfilled need of a child. They take various forms and serve various purposes, depending on what the child in question needs. They are invisibe to most and generally dismissed as imaginary friends. But their existence is key to many a child's growth and well being.
Where do Guardians come from? Do they even exist before children need them? And what happens to them when the children they help no longer need them?
Guardians.
A Guardian is a being that is created in response to a deep, unfulfilled need of a child. They take various forms and serve various purposes, depending on what the child in question needs. They are invisibe to most and generally dismissed as imaginary friends. But their existence is key to many a child's growth and well being.
Where do Guardians come from? Do they even exist before children need them? And what happens to them when the children they help no longer need them?
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