Christmas Spirit
Of Presents Given
20131225
20131224
Convergence Two
Detective
Musharef offered to drive. Stone let him. He was a nice enough guy;
Stone wanted to try and make this work.
They talked as they headed towards the crime scene. Musharef had just had a short story published in a magazine. He was about to test for his 2nd Degree black belt in Taekwondo. He volunteered at a local children's theatre company. It wasn't that he was bragging, only that wherever Stone tried to take the conversation, Musharef had an achievement waiting there. He offered them up humbly, as casual points of interest, not badges of honor. All that and the Lt. had said he was a great cop too.
Stone thought about Colleen, about his tour of duty. Thought about his therapy for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Thought about his therapy after Riveta... Thought about Riveta. Wondered where everything had gone. Not gone wrong, or gone right. Just gone.
And he thought about that message on his answering machine. Just as Musharef started telling a story.
"So my girlfriend calls me and says 'Do you remember that dream I had last night?'. She had had this dream about being bitten by a spider and all these baby spiders growing inside her. Now at this point she didn't know I had been invited by my buddy to see the latest Spiderman movie yet. So she tells me how in the novel she's reading while she's waiting at the pharmacy, there's this character who collects spiders. And right then, this little girl who's there with her mom, says, 'Look mom-' and she holds up this tangled bit of string '-I made a spider!' Weird, huh?"
The same pattern occurring at all levels.
We have to find a way out.
A call came in on the police band. "All units be advised. A suspect has been spotted on foot in the Davis-Brockton area, female, mid-teens, brown skin, black hair, goes by the name Meagan."
"That's where we're headed," Musharef said.
"All units please be advised. A large animal, likely a canine, possibly rabid, has also been reported in that area..."
They talked as they headed towards the crime scene. Musharef had just had a short story published in a magazine. He was about to test for his 2nd Degree black belt in Taekwondo. He volunteered at a local children's theatre company. It wasn't that he was bragging, only that wherever Stone tried to take the conversation, Musharef had an achievement waiting there. He offered them up humbly, as casual points of interest, not badges of honor. All that and the Lt. had said he was a great cop too.
Stone thought about Colleen, about his tour of duty. Thought about his therapy for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Thought about his therapy after Riveta... Thought about Riveta. Wondered where everything had gone. Not gone wrong, or gone right. Just gone.
And he thought about that message on his answering machine. Just as Musharef started telling a story.
"So my girlfriend calls me and says 'Do you remember that dream I had last night?'. She had had this dream about being bitten by a spider and all these baby spiders growing inside her. Now at this point she didn't know I had been invited by my buddy to see the latest Spiderman movie yet. So she tells me how in the novel she's reading while she's waiting at the pharmacy, there's this character who collects spiders. And right then, this little girl who's there with her mom, says, 'Look mom-' and she holds up this tangled bit of string '-I made a spider!' Weird, huh?"
The same pattern occurring at all levels.
We have to find a way out.
A call came in on the police band. "All units be advised. A suspect has been spotted on foot in the Davis-Brockton area, female, mid-teens, brown skin, black hair, goes by the name Meagan."
"That's where we're headed," Musharef said.
"All units please be advised. A large animal, likely a canine, possibly rabid, has also been reported in that area..."
Different Name, Same Show
Simon
sipped his tea. His head hurt, it had been hurting a lot lately.
Migraines, powerful ones that felt like his head was going to
implode. He remembered getting these headaches as a child, long ago.
His grandmother would take him in her arms and rock him while singing
a song.
He didn't know what to do. He had stopped taking aspirin, tylenol and other medications since they only seemed to pollute the body with chemicals.
But with these migraines it seemed he was being divulged with massive information, his brain processing images and events that seemed to happen, or didn't happen but he was remembering them as if they did. He winced again.
He picked up his tea and sipped, the liquid felt like heaven as it ran over his taste buds. Green tea was doing the trick.
"You okay, Simon?" Shelly asked. She took the chair opposite him.
"Looks like you're in another world."
"Sometimes I feel like I am," Simon replied. He had closed the notebook in front of him with what looked like a list of items and events and dates, but Shelly couldn't make them out.
He didn't know what to do. He had stopped taking aspirin, tylenol and other medications since they only seemed to pollute the body with chemicals.
But with these migraines it seemed he was being divulged with massive information, his brain processing images and events that seemed to happen, or didn't happen but he was remembering them as if they did. He winced again.
He picked up his tea and sipped, the liquid felt like heaven as it ran over his taste buds. Green tea was doing the trick.
"You okay, Simon?" Shelly asked. She took the chair opposite him.
"Looks like you're in another world."
"Sometimes I feel like I am," Simon replied. He had closed the notebook in front of him with what looked like a list of items and events and dates, but Shelly couldn't make them out.
20131223
Convergence One
Susanna's
feet were tired; somehow retail was more exhausting than teaching.
Maybe the smile of a satisfied customer didn't match the smile of a
child who had just figured out a solution to a problem. She needed to
figure out her own solution to her own problem.
Leaving teaching to pursue music had seemed like the great leap. She hadn't had any illusions about making it big, she knew it would be a struggle, she loved the romance of that. It had paid off - two years of barely-made rent, small gigs at local bars, a few in nearby towns, decent after-show sales of her homemade CD, a tiny bit of buzz in tiny corners of the net. Except that she hadn't written anything new. Not a single song or melody.
Susanna hung the sweater up on the rack and suddenly felt a massive rush of deja vu. Her heart skipped, her breath caught, she turned just like she had, like she knew she would, not knowing why and the woman was running towards her. And Susanna let her body go limp because she knew it was coming and the woman tackled her. They crashed down into the clothing rack, the spring line-up fluttering around them, the strange wolf-like creature snarling in the air, its teeth snapping where they had been standing. The woman rolling them both, colours entangling them, the beast landing and turning and growling. And the woman's hand reaching out and snapping suddenly. Thunder.
Susanna pulled herself free. The store muzak crept into the sudden silence. Everything was moving slowly except her heart.
The woman steadied her. "I'm Dete- I'm Sandrine. Sandrine Riveta." She replaced the pistol in the holster under her jacket, took out a photo. "Please, do you know this man?"
It was the principal of Susanna's old school. Mr. Donnelly.
Leaving teaching to pursue music had seemed like the great leap. She hadn't had any illusions about making it big, she knew it would be a struggle, she loved the romance of that. It had paid off - two years of barely-made rent, small gigs at local bars, a few in nearby towns, decent after-show sales of her homemade CD, a tiny bit of buzz in tiny corners of the net. Except that she hadn't written anything new. Not a single song or melody.
Susanna hung the sweater up on the rack and suddenly felt a massive rush of deja vu. Her heart skipped, her breath caught, she turned just like she had, like she knew she would, not knowing why and the woman was running towards her. And Susanna let her body go limp because she knew it was coming and the woman tackled her. They crashed down into the clothing rack, the spring line-up fluttering around them, the strange wolf-like creature snarling in the air, its teeth snapping where they had been standing. The woman rolling them both, colours entangling them, the beast landing and turning and growling. And the woman's hand reaching out and snapping suddenly. Thunder.
Susanna pulled herself free. The store muzak crept into the sudden silence. Everything was moving slowly except her heart.
The woman steadied her. "I'm Dete- I'm Sandrine. Sandrine Riveta." She replaced the pistol in the holster under her jacket, took out a photo. "Please, do you know this man?"
It was the principal of Susanna's old school. Mr. Donnelly.
The Zen of Nothing
Suki
ducked down behind the car. She knew it would only hold off another
few attacks before it would be blown apart. But that gave her some
time to think.
Click. Click.
"Well duh," she replied. "You think?"
Click.
"Well I can afford to be snooty," she replied. She powered up the Godhammer again. "Just need an escape route now, that's what I truly need."
She glanced around the parking garage looking for somewhere or something that would offer better protection.
Several rounds hit the car, sending shards of metal flying as well as glass.
Click.
"Yeah I know, Sundance," she replied. "It's now or never."
Click. Click.
"Well duh," she replied. "You think?"
Click.
"Well I can afford to be snooty," she replied. She powered up the Godhammer again. "Just need an escape route now, that's what I truly need."
She glanced around the parking garage looking for somewhere or something that would offer better protection.
Several rounds hit the car, sending shards of metal flying as well as glass.
Click.
"Yeah I know, Sundance," she replied. "It's now or never."
20131222
Real Time Saves Nine
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?"
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?"
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.
20131220
Vortex
Version
Indigo
"I know it's strange for me to be calling," Stone said into the phone. "It's just that, well things are really getting strange. And I don't know who else to call. Now that Riveta is..."
He glanced around at the street through the smudged and graffitied windows on the phone booth.
"Things just feel weird is all. And you used to be into all that New Age stuff. And I know I used to tease you about it all the time. So this can be your big 'I told you so'..."
Stone absently patted the revolver holstered at the small of his back.
"Like, for example, the other day I ran into Charlie from the service, then a couple of hours later I saw the guy who owned Stinger's. What are the chances, running into people from two different chapters of my life like that, on the same day? But get this... I saw them both when I was out visiting with Horner and Plastic Ken... They were both in town... On the same day..."
Stone started slightly when a car alarm went off nearby.
"And seeing Ken and Horner got me in the mind to call Waters... and it turns out he's going to be in town next Friday, the same day I was about to suggest I come visit him..." His voice was getting more excited. "Plus, there was a link of a comedy clip going around the station email, from this old show, and the two guys on the clip were both on the same talk show last night - total coincidence!"
Stone took a deep breath.
"I don't know if this makes any sense... I guess I just needed to tell someone. Listen, you don't need to call me back or anything. I hope Carl is doing well. And please give my love to the kids, ok? I mean, if you think that's alright... Anyway... Take care, Colleen."
He hung up the phone.
"I know it's strange for me to be calling," Stone said into the phone. "It's just that, well things are really getting strange. And I don't know who else to call. Now that Riveta is..."
He glanced around at the street through the smudged and graffitied windows on the phone booth.
"Things just feel weird is all. And you used to be into all that New Age stuff. And I know I used to tease you about it all the time. So this can be your big 'I told you so'..."
Stone absently patted the revolver holstered at the small of his back.
"Like, for example, the other day I ran into Charlie from the service, then a couple of hours later I saw the guy who owned Stinger's. What are the chances, running into people from two different chapters of my life like that, on the same day? But get this... I saw them both when I was out visiting with Horner and Plastic Ken... They were both in town... On the same day..."
Stone started slightly when a car alarm went off nearby.
"And seeing Ken and Horner got me in the mind to call Waters... and it turns out he's going to be in town next Friday, the same day I was about to suggest I come visit him..." His voice was getting more excited. "Plus, there was a link of a comedy clip going around the station email, from this old show, and the two guys on the clip were both on the same talk show last night - total coincidence!"
Stone took a deep breath.
"I don't know if this makes any sense... I guess I just needed to tell someone. Listen, you don't need to call me back or anything. I hope Carl is doing well. And please give my love to the kids, ok? I mean, if you think that's alright... Anyway... Take care, Colleen."
He hung up the phone.
Vesper Bell
Version
Crimson B2
Riveta glanced over at the Brownstone and didn't see any signs of movement. She had been here for couple of hours, waiting for a sign or signal of some sort.
"This is nuts," she said softly. Her car radio was on, playing a faded hit from long ago and she found herself humming along to the song.
Her gun, cellphone, a pack of gum, and a dime-store novel were on the passenger seat. As well as three styrofoam cups of empty coffee.
She knew that she had drank one coffee too many since she had the urge to go to the bathroom, but she didn't want to leave her post. Not yet.
"Well Professor, whatever it is that's supposed to be here isn't," she muttered again. She chuckled at the notion of talking to herself.
An eerily glowing light emanated from the top floor of the brownstone window.
Showtime, said Riveta. She grabbed the stick of gum and the three empty coffee cups and exited the car.
Riveta glanced over at the Brownstone and didn't see any signs of movement. She had been here for couple of hours, waiting for a sign or signal of some sort.
"This is nuts," she said softly. Her car radio was on, playing a faded hit from long ago and she found herself humming along to the song.
Her gun, cellphone, a pack of gum, and a dime-store novel were on the passenger seat. As well as three styrofoam cups of empty coffee.
She knew that she had drank one coffee too many since she had the urge to go to the bathroom, but she didn't want to leave her post. Not yet.
"Well Professor, whatever it is that's supposed to be here isn't," she muttered again. She chuckled at the notion of talking to herself.
An eerily glowing light emanated from the top floor of the brownstone window.
Showtime, said Riveta. She grabbed the stick of gum and the three empty coffee cups and exited the car.
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