Frank
opened his eyes and stretched; he had fallen asleep. The subway car
was stopped and the doors opened and he glanced around.
Akimoto
was sitting in a lotus position in deep meditation, so he didn't want
to bother the Norse ronin.
He
reached over and touched Tatter on the shoulder; she shot up as if
touched with a branding iron.
"It's
me," Frank said, leaning back and holding up his hands.
"Sorry,"
Tatter meekly replied. She hadn't been able to sleep at all. It
seemed her functions were still jumbled a bit. "Just that..."
"No
worries, Tat," Frank said. He stood up and looked up and down
the car. "You know where the others went?"
"Aqua
and Dex went to get some food," Tatter replied.
"And
Max, Maggie, Suki..." Frank began but then he saw the puzzled
look on Tatter's face. "What is it?"
"Max?"
Tattered said. "Who's he?"
20131222
Beltane
Maggie
eased into the booth, couldn't hide the wince. Got centered, quick
check of the bandages wrapped around her stomach.
"No secret, love, you look rough," Crow said.
Maggie smiled wryly. "I didn't know this place had a 'no tact' policy."
Crow shrugged apologetically, put on that sweet face, instantly child-like. Mags could never resist it. Crow knew every bit of her and how to trick it out of the water and onto the shore; angel, warrior, idol, mother, monster. "I worry, is all."
Mags rested her elbows on the table. Crow poured her some tea. Another cafe, another city, another meeting, another wound.
"Is this it?" she asked.
Crow sighed. "I don't know, love. I hope it isn't."
"It feels like the same thing but at the same time so much has changed."
Crow sipped some tea. "Level X."
Maggie sighed. "I know, I know."
"You still miss him," Crow said.
Maggie sipped her tea. Didn't reply, didn't acknowledge but didn't ignore either. Music played from the speakers. Acoustic guitar. A novel got read, a debate was had, plans were made to attend a concert, a teacher was complained about. The wound in her side itched and ached, kept her from really understanding all those exchanges around them, and she hated it and loved it for that.
"I was thinking about Angst last night," she said.
"The cheerleader? Hey, isn't that weird?" Crow looked excited. "How that Slayer on TV started out as a cheerleader, and you used to run with one, way back when."
Maggie wondered how long ago it had been exactly. "That's what trips your weird-meter these days? The multidimensional demonic conspiracy is nothing special but a minor synchronicity on a TV show..." She arched her eyebrow in mock judgement.
Crow put on a defeated look. "What about her?"
"I dream of her a lot. She's yelling at me... It's not quite her exactly. Or maybe it's what she turned into, after..."
Crow didn't press the question. Things were tense lately. Felt on the verge. If Maggie was being haunted, well, it was nothing new for her. The work still needed to get done.
"So, Maggie my dear, we need to have a conversation about this Simon Light fellow."
"No secret, love, you look rough," Crow said.
Maggie smiled wryly. "I didn't know this place had a 'no tact' policy."
Crow shrugged apologetically, put on that sweet face, instantly child-like. Mags could never resist it. Crow knew every bit of her and how to trick it out of the water and onto the shore; angel, warrior, idol, mother, monster. "I worry, is all."
Mags rested her elbows on the table. Crow poured her some tea. Another cafe, another city, another meeting, another wound.
"Is this it?" she asked.
Crow sighed. "I don't know, love. I hope it isn't."
"It feels like the same thing but at the same time so much has changed."
Crow sipped some tea. "Level X."
Maggie sighed. "I know, I know."
"You still miss him," Crow said.
Maggie sipped her tea. Didn't reply, didn't acknowledge but didn't ignore either. Music played from the speakers. Acoustic guitar. A novel got read, a debate was had, plans were made to attend a concert, a teacher was complained about. The wound in her side itched and ached, kept her from really understanding all those exchanges around them, and she hated it and loved it for that.
"I was thinking about Angst last night," she said.
"The cheerleader? Hey, isn't that weird?" Crow looked excited. "How that Slayer on TV started out as a cheerleader, and you used to run with one, way back when."
Maggie wondered how long ago it had been exactly. "That's what trips your weird-meter these days? The multidimensional demonic conspiracy is nothing special but a minor synchronicity on a TV show..." She arched her eyebrow in mock judgement.
Crow put on a defeated look. "What about her?"
"I dream of her a lot. She's yelling at me... It's not quite her exactly. Or maybe it's what she turned into, after..."
Crow didn't press the question. Things were tense lately. Felt on the verge. If Maggie was being haunted, well, it was nothing new for her. The work still needed to get done.
"So, Maggie my dear, we need to have a conversation about this Simon Light fellow."
Enders End Begins Again
Version
Light Delta 54-c-alpha
I am the ender, the light the of shadows
I am the begin, the darkness of dreams
When I cry, I cry alone
When I laugh, I laugh alone
I am Ender the Omega
I am Alpha the Beginning
Alone I am
Am I alone?
No one knows me for who I am
And what I've done or have failed to do
I am the ender, the light the of shadows
I am the begin, the darkness of dreams
When I cry, I cry alone
When I laugh, I laugh alone
I am Ender the Omega
I am Alpha the Beginning
Alone I am
Am I alone?
No one knows me for who I am
And what I've done or have failed to do
From This World to the Next
Version
Elephant Cobra
Scorpio almost passed out. He grabbed hold of awake and clung to it, the weird lighting of the internet cafe punching into his eyes, his stomach wrestling with the deluge of coffee. He grit his teeth, he clenched his fists. He imagined Wolverine from X2 carving his way through the soldiers storming Xavier's. He took a deep breath. He almost passed out.
Typing quickly, then slowly, sometimes needing to find each key, sometimes running across the keyboard, drunk tightrope, words mispelled, didn't matter these days. Bad spelling, new jargon, Scorpio caught between the two. Hoping he wouldn't fall asleep, didn't want to be awake anymore, caught between the two.
Couldn't let her go. Couldn't let her log out. Didn't know how to ask. Couldn't stay silent. Caught between. Could she tell, could she tell as his text appeared on her screen, wherever she was, whoever she was, how messed up he felt, how desperate he was. Did the stark lines and curves capture the apocalypse in him or erase it. Magic runes summoning the right feeling in her, or suburban architecture strip-malling the forest inside him.
He could just ask, but she was already asking. Would his question connect them or scare her off or worse sound contrived, his true desperate agenda inverted into a ploy, an online flash of a smile and a wink, boozy end-of-the-night lunge for the finish line.
And if she was asking then she couldn't tell him. But maybe he didn't really need to know, he only needed to know that others were asking too...
Except for all the typing he was doing, all the passing-out he wasn't doing, keeping the exchange running, lobbing text at each other across whatever was between them, he couldn't aim for what she had put on display - he envied her courage, he feared her intent. He almost typed about it, finally, but he had another strange flash of black-suited men storming the cafe and he almost passed out again.
He stared at the screen. The chat window open. Their exchange about politics and movies. Her name and quote in the top corner.
Mayganne - who is max cube?
Scorpio almost passed out. He grabbed hold of awake and clung to it, the weird lighting of the internet cafe punching into his eyes, his stomach wrestling with the deluge of coffee. He grit his teeth, he clenched his fists. He imagined Wolverine from X2 carving his way through the soldiers storming Xavier's. He took a deep breath. He almost passed out.
Typing quickly, then slowly, sometimes needing to find each key, sometimes running across the keyboard, drunk tightrope, words mispelled, didn't matter these days. Bad spelling, new jargon, Scorpio caught between the two. Hoping he wouldn't fall asleep, didn't want to be awake anymore, caught between the two.
Couldn't let her go. Couldn't let her log out. Didn't know how to ask. Couldn't stay silent. Caught between. Could she tell, could she tell as his text appeared on her screen, wherever she was, whoever she was, how messed up he felt, how desperate he was. Did the stark lines and curves capture the apocalypse in him or erase it. Magic runes summoning the right feeling in her, or suburban architecture strip-malling the forest inside him.
He could just ask, but she was already asking. Would his question connect them or scare her off or worse sound contrived, his true desperate agenda inverted into a ploy, an online flash of a smile and a wink, boozy end-of-the-night lunge for the finish line.
And if she was asking then she couldn't tell him. But maybe he didn't really need to know, he only needed to know that others were asking too...
Except for all the typing he was doing, all the passing-out he wasn't doing, keeping the exchange running, lobbing text at each other across whatever was between them, he couldn't aim for what she had put on display - he envied her courage, he feared her intent. He almost typed about it, finally, but he had another strange flash of black-suited men storming the cafe and he almost passed out again.
He stared at the screen. The chat window open. Their exchange about politics and movies. Her name and quote in the top corner.
Mayganne - who is max cube?
Pocket Universes
Version
Angel Zero
Suki stepped out of StarCoffee with an extra-large double-cream double-sugar coffee in her hands.
If it was one thing she liked about this it was that the coffee was next to divine in taste.
Click. Click. Click
Suki began crossing the street before answering.
"It's like we are all in our own pocket universes," Suki said as she pulled the tab back on her coffee lid.
Click. Click.
"No, not really," she replied once she took a sip. "I really don't have a friggin' clue on what to do at this particular moment."
Click.
"For all I know we could be just lint specks in some guy's pocket," she replied.
Suki stepped out of StarCoffee with an extra-large double-cream double-sugar coffee in her hands.
If it was one thing she liked about this it was that the coffee was next to divine in taste.
Click. Click. Click
Suki began crossing the street before answering.
"It's like we are all in our own pocket universes," Suki said as she pulled the tab back on her coffee lid.
Click. Click.
"No, not really," she replied once she took a sip. "I really don't have a friggin' clue on what to do at this particular moment."
Click.
"For all I know we could be just lint specks in some guy's pocket," she replied.
The Holographic Universe
Version
Crimson Falling
Stone keyed in the numbers to access his voice-mail as he shrugged off his suit jacket. One message.
"...get it now, see how the one reflects into the many and back again. The same pattern occurring at all levels. The war in Iraq and the behaviour of the government is the exact same equation as the way my family reacted to my Dad getting cancer is the exact same equation as when we all flipped out when the Lieutenant got fired is the exact same equation as the way they're arguing online. And I can't see a way out, we need to find a way out."
Stone's eyes were wide. He gasped for breath, felt dizzy.
Riveta.
Stone keyed in the numbers to access his voice-mail as he shrugged off his suit jacket. One message.
"...get it now, see how the one reflects into the many and back again. The same pattern occurring at all levels. The war in Iraq and the behaviour of the government is the exact same equation as the way my family reacted to my Dad getting cancer is the exact same equation as when we all flipped out when the Lieutenant got fired is the exact same equation as the way they're arguing online. And I can't see a way out, we need to find a way out."
Stone's eyes were wide. He gasped for breath, felt dizzy.
Riveta.
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