"You're in a room. What do you do?"
---The Master Of The Game
THE PLANET MADE ITS NAME KNOWN, SOMEHOW
TO THE MONSTER OF THE SWAMP THAT STARED
THROUGH THE TUBE OF SCRYING. ANOTHER
CONSCIOUSNESS HAD CAUGHT ITS INTERESTS.
WHILE ONE BRAIN TOILED AT COORDINATION OF NERVAL FUNCTIONS, THE OTHER BRAIN DOUBLED
WHAT IT HAD LEARNED. DOUBLED AGAIN.
INTERNALIZING THE LOGIC OF LYING WITH NO SENSE
OF WRONG OR RIGHTNESS...
TYANID, AN INNOCENT LIAR, IS CREATED, AND GROWING.
Via temporal dilation scrying techniques,
light aeons could be foused and filtered
to reveal that which otherwise would be lost --
TYANID, THE MONSTER KNEW THAT TYANID'S
SWAMPS AND LIFE FORMS COULD FEED AND NURTURE
IT. IN THE STRANGE MOVEMENTS BETWEEN
FARAWAY FLESHY THINGS, NOT EVEN BIOLOGICAL
BUT IN THE IDEA OF LYING...IN LYING TO
ONE'S SELF UNTIL THE LIE TOOK A MOMENTUM
TO PULL ONE FORWARD...
"I AM, I THINK, I EXIST, I HUNGER," COGNITED THE
Observing: FAR FROM EARTH
What: fifty foot tall reptilian. Reminds us
of Stegosaurus and Tyrannosaurus rex at the
same time. Scales glisten a medium
green under an orange Star...
TYANID LACKS A CLUE, WHEREVER THE TEMPORAL-
DILATING SCRYING FOCUS CAME FROM, THE MONSTER F THE JUNGLE-PLANETOID ALSO NAMED TYANID
HE HAS NO CLUE, HE IS WATCHED AS WELL...
Perhaps those who watch him are watched.
they feel themselves as watchers who watch uninhibited by other eyes. Sad.
J. C. Maxwell
R. Buckminister Fuller...
WHENEVER and whatever Now seems to be.
to the subjective viewer, the "monitor" in relative
To PLATO, there was no external Viewer to observe him as he planned out his necessity; decieve lesser mortals, for so as to see that Emperors would rule them wisely. The concept of a sentient reptile watching via temporal-dilation technlogies...
...TOO VAST for PLATO'S drooling, pig-man mind
to embrace. In nightmares he barely acknowledged
reptile eyes viewed him as if through a narrow tube...
Awakening to dully, clumsily fondle his youthful
Etruscan slave boy, he chose that he hated dreams, as much, or more than he hated poets.
Dreams, fatuous, fawning PLATO decided,
were like poems, and poets were dangerous LIARS who
might speak of "Gods" that would, perhaps inspire
slaves to thoughts fo freedom, rebellion...
PLATO chose that he hated dreams MORE than he hated poets. The issue of poets could easily
be reduced to the absurdity of obvious delusion in the ears
of those who might hear -- if he could get to the poor subjects first! -- their poor ears, subjected
to the pretenses of those of would make dead Gods live in the ears of their hearers...
with a swift mind he'd grown proud of PLATO
calculated that hated Poets must get their deceit
from that world of lies, that accursed Dream World.
PLATO was charitable. perhaps that disgusting street urchin DIOGENES
could not see his 'cupness' and 'tableness'...such empty, pointless words
masquerading as "philosophy"!
PLATO knew that he was charitable. He was thinking of others -- all
others, for all forseeable futures.
the DEMOS needed dreams less than they needed
vile Poets and their anthropomorphisms...
The DEMOS needed ORDER. They needed EMPERORS.
they needed REPUBLIC, whether they knew it or not.
SOKRATES...there had been a capable stepping-stone.
as fatuus PLATO enscribed the perfected (by his
great genius, by PLATO's "daimon") tale of the
last days of SOKRATES, he imagined the former
becoming exalted in the afterlife that only PLATO
could create in his own minbd. Surely there was no
other life after the way SOKRATES had puked and given
up the ghost...except for PLATO's gift.
PLATO realised that SOKRATES would gain a sort
of immortality; SOKRATES, death, ergo, would be a tool
to further show the sublime perfection of his
Dreamily PLATO pushed the Etruscene's head
back down between his fatty thighs.
There was no God save PLATO, no heaven
but the enslaved young mouth between his legs,
devouring but not hungry.
PLATO knew the slave boy had no desire to do as he was bade.
The child was a slave to the
deserving, and other slaves were hard at work
escrolling with indeliable black ink
the PEFECTED tale of SOKRATES' death.
No one needed to know the REGRETS of Athens!
No one needed to know about the vomiting,
puke arcing between SOKRATES' fingers, no one
needed to know about the inexorable siexures
that inevitably ebbed, leaving SOKRATES' lifeless
via the machinations of PLATO, whom SOKRATES
had been fool enough to think friend.
PLATO also ebbed, inevitably, to slacken -
He kept a firm pressure on the Etruscan boy's
nape, to feel the gagging.
it's awesome to listen to Ra'ana's people speaking their native language, even if you aren't wearing a Translatron.
Very musical and breathy, reflecting perhaps the astral breezes the Ra'ana religion and cosmology claims is the source of all their wisdom.
Full and rich, it sounds almost like song, and pitch is also important. The Ra'naa have ears that are very attuned...marvelous!
We were Ra'ana. Ra'ana, and the seeds she bore and nurtured.
a long time ago our ancestors were apes.
a Long Time ago - as the day star traveled through the sky over and over -
once Ra'ana children were mighty apes who ate leaves and lived in trees.
but the day star changed those mighty apes and we became who we are now, the Ra'ana. One day an ape learned to talk and said the first word -- the first word all Ra'ana say -- Umi, meaning mother.
The great apes still wander the steppes but our tribes diverged.
they only say 'umi' -- but they still eat leaves and play in the sun, on the steppes.
we, meanwhile, developed skills. we learned to forage and build cities...steppe villas where we composed love songs to the all powerful sun, the source of sustenance, and learned from the actions of the apes, our ancestors. but the day star changed us...we evolved. we learned to write things down, we learned art and song and compose elaborate songs of love on integrity-lutes to the day star and the winds that flow from the day star.
and we learned. we sat in the art called "meditation," we learned many different things to do we called skills. and we counted the movement of the different night stars as well as the day star, we counted the times that the Ra'ana spun around letting us see the day star again and again. it is as i write this the number forty two followed by my fingers times my fingers times my fingers, but the mathematicians know more.
--or knew more, before Emperor Hedgewarden and his Dynasts came in their star ships!
they came here and smiled in their strange clothes. laughing at us.
Nariki was the first one who approached them to speak.
"why have you come here, oddly dressed Ra'ana?"
"We are not Ra'ana," Hedgewarden said.
"We are from far away, from Earth. we are your rulers."
"What is a...ruler
?" Nariki asked. We watched from the steppe pass.
Hedgewarden slapped Nariki down to the ground!
We had never seen a Ra'ana strike another Ra'ana -- we didn't know what to make of it.
Hedgewarden bent down and grabbed Nariki by the throat - I remember -
I could hear his strangled attempt to cry out.
"We came to rule you. also own you. you little monkeys will make fine subjects. this is the wonderful world of Hedgewarden now! You will do as we say or get killed.
"You know what killed is, you little ape?"
we panicked in the pass, watching.
they speak Ra'ana but they don't act like Ra'ana.
they look like us too. wait and see.
look at their...clothes!
"Killed is when you don't do what your rulers say. That's us. and also Howerth. Hey, Howerth, get a load of this monkey!"
another one of the strange Ra'ana waked over to Nariki. Nariki has long beautiful black hair.
"i want that hair for my lab, George," and the fat one walked over. it had a fat pot belly - also something no Ra'ana had ever seen before.
i tell you this because this is the time that trouble began here on Ra'ana, for so many cycles we had celebrated the star wind. now these stranger Ra'ana had come.
Jade is next to me with his hand on my shoulder gripping tight. he is horrified beyond question.
they are killing Nariki slowly.
They have come to Ra'ana to rule us.
Their starships..we have never seen anything like this before.
They are huge and there is something horrifying about them.
and they are killing Nariki -- the first one is Hedgewarden - - it is a name all of Ra'ana will come to know and fear. The other one, Howerth -- none of us has ever seen a fat man before. his belly is round. it looks like sickness, when people once ate bad plants from swamps where gases from the underdark escape.
they strangle and kill nariki and we cannot supress our wails. we have watched the aged die and wept -- but we have never seen anyone killed by another ra'ana before and we begin to wail -
it is the first time we have ever screamed the Ra'ana Death Wail. they look up to the pass and see us and here come their soldiers. but we are hot with a new feeling..
3) Xeno Mariki
"An excellent android, Dr. De Valia. It looks exactly
like Christina Aguilera."
XM battered her long eyelashes and blinked at the assembled press.
Then she said something in Japanese...I didn't program it.
They applauded, though.
"How did you do it? make a long story short if you can." the Japanese reporter for POP! smiled nervously. I thought: how old is she,
sixteen is the world really getting smaller?
"Basically..." cleared my throat..."I made this botany-based life form because short term thinkers
of Western science are very annoying to me."
in the back room i could clearly hear Hank in his office doing what he said he would do,
cranking his loud old Black Flag and ignoring us pointedly. If it had been
pointed at me it would have hurt. "...whatever...Ms. Aguilera -- Christina gave me a lock
of her hair -- i told her what i was going to do and she said, 'yeah,
right.' --using some patented botany techniques and my own plasm, i
"your, your own, did you say, excuse me did you say 'plasm'?'"
Henry's explosive laughter ROARED from the back room.
...another improbable day at 9000 Industries.
The press thing went well, and Xeno Mariki is in fact the greatest
thing that has ever been built. I made her without human genitalia on
purpose because...people are sick and i want to have it right.
...but i know how to make a breeder.
...I am gonna,
too...later. we need more staff here...
introduction:she loves me and i love her and she loves him and no one wants to hurt
anyone so we never talk about it.
basically we are really nice people and love is most important to all
three of us...people who don't value love lie and say spiteful, cruel and
untrue things. but we all love each other and we agreed to simply let
it go. and that is what it is about.
with little explanation you are FLUNG: here there is a galactic
Domnion...no one chooses who they will marry -- or make love with??
you get a card and you stay with that person: you have x amount of babies.
you woke up and it was like that.
no way! said some people, and there was shouting and pain. you live on
a planet named Venus; some of you decided that love and choice were
more important than loyalty to governace by --
now your name is somehow last name Hara, first name Posey. your truck
looks like a truncated bullet - it is from the line of shuttles that
they were making in the eighties.
you are Posey, you are a trucker.
keep on truckin'
from: the journal of Posey Hara-
still nothing quite like a Christmas here.
i thought I would miss snow but I don't. I feel industrious...we all
do. Something about this place; you just feel like doing more and
thinking more...thinking is easier. M'Panza says it has to do with
Says the earth has different magnetic fields, with more tied up in
them. We were used to the way energy flowed on Earth: here there is a
different core, our auras, he believes are less influenced by things
like the grid, which is far less complicated here on Venus Prime, it
being much less developed and complicated.
Not sure if I agree with him; not sure if I disagree.
This whole fight is a lot different than the Earth resistance. I mean,
i didn't have to shoot anyone at all in the Earth resistance, it was
all talk, all rational and people ended up listening to reason once we
started actually using it.
This Venusian shit: it's like the wild wild west here.
Archer was almost shot yesterday.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
Currently staying here now are a bunch of people from the second wave
of immigrants, people from all over Earth, there were a lot of
Canadians in the last wave. the weirdest thing is all the girls who
have started callng themselves Venus -- it's like 'Jennifer' was back home on Earth.
This Venus is named Venus and a B-something or other.
And there is a Ramon, he is a total wise ass, very funny and he knows
all about field modulation which will be better for the crops.
And ultimately it is all about the crops; we have to eat, after all.
I am walking in the morning by the River of the Spiders. I am alone and unarmed. In fact, I am naked which is less than completely odd…just unusual.
The moons are high in the sky, which rarely happens at the same time. Maybe once every (cycle?)
There is someone bathing in the river.
At the not quite quiet spot, the place where it bends, where I have bathed before…she is bathing there looking so much like myself. I get closer and she turns just like I would turn, covering her topside…oh, it is I myself…she seems to smile and turns away from me, relaxing in the green water. I walk closer, walk in.
The water is cold and I tell her/myself so. ‘You’ll get used to it. Join me won’t you?’
I think if it were not a dream I would be more frightened of bathing with myself. Instead I relax and breathe, enjoying the cold, green water.
‘Why am I like this?’ the other me say.
I stare at her. The moons are high; one is so huge! And silvery. The other is small, reddish.
‘Why am I like this, all ghostly and insubstantial? Why am I even bothering to bathe…I am only a shade.’
And I look and sure enough, I can see right through this reflection of myself, I can see the hanging blanket webs in the trees behind her, I can see the oak branches through her.
I realize that I am looking at my own spirit. This doesn’t make sense to me and I begin to back out of the water.
‘Why are you afraid of yourself? What are you afraid of?’ The spirit says to me. ‘Are you afraid of your own death?’
This shocks me. ‘Death? We cannot die. We are Elves, Immortal,’ I reply, words I have known forever, of holy writ.
The spirit eyes me directly…her eyes glow like fire in the night…it’s unnerving, her eyes like fire, her body pale and transparent. ‘Is that really so? I’ve come from far away to tell you what has happened to me, to us. I am your future self. And where I come from you..are..DEAD. quite dead.’
I stare at her, unbelieving. In the forest the night birds twitter. The crickets sing their same sad song.
‘what is it that you fear? You see me standing here.’
And the ghost of – me?
--Ducks her head down under the waters’ surface, not disturbing it. And she stands up and her hair flicks back as if soaked, yet the water’s not disturbed…I am, though, and sorely.
‘you may as well relax, Syrina, you have so much living to do ‘til…’til it happens.’
She has moved closer to me now. Her face is so close tomine, I can see through it. Behind her, in my dreams, the two moons, never! Never are they so high in the sky at the same time! They are beginning to circle each other…this never happens…such a horrid dream.
‘well I certainly have become a bitch in the future, have I not? Why did I come back, then, if I am dead?’
‘nothing ever dies, Syrina,’ the spirit intones cryptically.
It is a trifle odd to hear my own voice come out of...well it’s—it looks like my body but so transparent, her-my eyes glowing!’
‘so much lies beyond your gaze, yet, Syrina Nightshade. So much truth beyond your questioning mind.’
Now the ghost is right in front of me. The small orange moon is growing, the spirit’s eyes are glowing…
‘don’t you want to know what happened to me? To you? To us?’
I stare, terrified and a bit angry. ‘this is some trick, some sorcery against me while I sleep. I am going to wake up right now!”
And I do. I wake up pinching my forearm; it’s deep purple where I have pinched myself awake, and my face is streaked with tears. I am alone in the treehouse.
I rise and look out the knothole window. Sure enough there is but one moon in the sky, Bastet, the dull orange moon.
I am scared, in fact I am trembling!
I can see that place that was in my dream. I go there often enough, and I can see it here from the window. Not much going on there…could I see a ghost from this distance?
I say it out loud, to myself. Horrid dream. But I am weary…I will drink some tea and go back to sleep.
When Dorrinicax returned from (her journey last) she taught me this cunning root tea to make. ‘Dreamless sleep,’ she said to me, ‘but you’ll see.’ I thanked her. It is good to have a clever sibling.
It takes little time to make the tea.
(Chroniclers Note: One may ask how does one prepare tea, how does one boil water while living in a house made of wood, of living wood, a tree house? Assuming that there are no generators of power nearby? Well, the answer is simply complex. There are power generators handy for just such a purpose. The details however, of their operation and powering are obscure to say the least.)
It takes little time to make the tea. I hold the oaken cup in both hands, blow on the mixture and begin to sip. It is slightly bitter, even with the honey; these are potent herbs Dorinn showed me. But I have used this mix before, I know it does what’s required of it, dreamless sleep yet not so deep. Perfect…
And I am sleepy…yes indeed!
I get back into bed and close my eyes. Nothing shocking…but I do think about the dream. Oh well.
There are those red-clad Wizards who have built their enclave atop Shafters’ Hill; they came patrolling through here and might be up to any sort of tricks. And there is sick old Morgan;, this sort of witchery has his methodology within it as well. But it’s nonsense. Absolute nonsense, and smacks of ill will towards me and worse, towards all of Elvenkind. Gods, now I am sleepy…in the day tomorrow I am bound to see Master Shard anyway. I’ll tell him all about it and he’ll tell me what action…to take…ahh, sleep, praise Venus…