Icarus' Flight
..........and that is what this story is about ... wings, the yearning to fly and escape those things one feels are holding our soul captive.
It was in a time before dreams were labeled impossible and magic flowed through the air on the wings of wishes.
Daedalus was an inventor, he took pride in the things he created. But his true pride lie with his child Icarus. Such a loving child, with a need to reach beyond the human limitations and soar toward the stars of hope.
Icarus dreamed of flight, to break away from the earth's pull and float with the breeze. But the vision of being closer to the sun, that was the longing that was ached with. The need to know such a being as the sun was almost more than Icarus could hold in one small heart. And the yearning for such drove Icarus to reach beyond the daily toils and look to the magic of wishes.
Daedalus, could see his child's need radiating from the fail body that held her soul to this earthly plane. The pain that burned so plainly there was more than the father could bear for his child. And in an act of unselfish love he laid aside all other tasks to fulfill this need that fed off of his child. Daelalus envisioned wings.... wings such has had never been seen before..... and he with love and patience began the task of making his vision a reality.
For as much as Icarus wished to soar, Daedalus wanted his child to have her hearts desire.
And the day dawned when at last the wings were done. Daedalus called his only child to him and unveiled that which he had toiled for so long. The wings; in Icarus's eyes they reflected back at the maker. They were beautiful to behold, made of wax to be light and sturdy. And child size if such a thing were so, as wings for a child. The magnificant gifts were put upon Icarus's back and joy ran though the tiny body that stood so proudly there. Daedalus's eyes misted from the site of his child so austure and proud with the promise of a wish on her back. And for a moment the earth stood still as father and child breathed in the magic of the day.
Then with no word needed; for the love and gratitued showed plainly on Icarus's face, she stepped off into the air.
Icarus plummeted down toward the rocks below. Her father stood still questioning her fate. The answer came quickly, his heart rose with the sight of his child soaring back over the edge and beyond.
At that moment Icarus felt she had no need of the wings her heart was so light. She had the dream, it had become her reality in an instant. But already her true goal beaconed her. And with no further thought she flew to meet her destiny
With no regret for that which she was leaving behind. It was not that she no longer needed such things. Just that she could only see that which she felt she had lived for finally within her grasp.
The sun.... pulling her to it's warmth and light. At last to be with her heart's passion, to know peace all this pulled Icarus higher still.
Her father a tiny figure below could only watch as the love of his life passed beyound his sight. He could no longer see her, but he could feel the joy in her heart. And for him, it was enough.
Icarus continued to fly upward to become one with her desire. The heat seared her, melting her wings but fanning her desire.
There was no marking of the time when Icarus left her body. No way to know when the metamorphisis occured. She simply went from girl to light, no more. The pull of her wish was enough to make reality release her.
And she was one with the sun. Her father watched as a flash of brightness took that which he had loved and cherished. And the the love and loss he felt cut through his very being severing him, never to be whole again. He had gave his heart so that the one he loved could feel true happiness, to be complete.
And with the act sealed his fate as shattered.
Friday, 7 December 2001
Sei Shonagon's Hateful Things
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One has gone to bed and is about to doze off when a mosquito appears and announces itself in a reedy voice. One can actually feel the wind made by his winds and, slight though it is, one finds it hateful in the extreme.
One is in the middle of a story when someone butts in and tries to show that he is the only clever person in the room. Such a person is hateful, and so, indeed, is anyone, child or adult, who tries to push himself forward.
One is telling a story about old times when someone breaks in with a little detail that he happens to know, implying that one's own version is inaccurate -- disgusting behavior!
Very hateful is a mouse that scurries all over the place.
A certain gentleman whom one does not want to see visits one at home or in the Palace, and one pretends to be asleep. But a maid comes to tell one and shakes one awake, with a look on her face that says, "What a sleepyhead!" Very hateful.
Excerpted from The Pillow Book, translated by Ivan Morris. Columbia Univeristy Press.
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One has gone to bed and is about to doze off when a mosquito appears and announces itself in a reedy voice. One can actually feel the wind made by his winds and, slight though it is, one finds it hateful in the extreme.
One is in the middle of a story when someone butts in and tries to show that he is the only clever person in the room. Such a person is hateful, and so, indeed, is anyone, child or adult, who tries to push himself forward.
One is telling a story about old times when someone breaks in with a little detail that he happens to know, implying that one's own version is inaccurate -- disgusting behavior!
Very hateful is a mouse that scurries all over the place.
A certain gentleman whom one does not want to see visits one at home or in the Palace, and one pretends to be asleep. But a maid comes to tell one and shakes one awake, with a look on her face that says, "What a sleepyhead!" Very hateful.
Excerpted from The Pillow Book, translated by Ivan Morris. Columbia Univeristy Press.
Monday, 3 December 2001
Signs that you're STILL addicted to 'The X-Files'
...You start eating sunflower seeds just because they remind you of Mulder.
...You perk up when you hear a character in a film or TV show mention that the FBI have been called in only to be disappointed when the Feds who arrive aren't Mulder or Scully. Or even Doggett for that matter.
...You know more about exsanguination than anyone who isn't a medical doctor or a vampire has a right to.
...You know Mulder & Scully's badge numbers, birth dates, and addresses by heart but you still have trouble remembering the exact date of your parent's wedding anniversary.
...You take a Latin class just to keep up on the episode titles.
...You could spend hours discussing the complex intricacies and underlying themes of 'The X-Files' but if someone asks you to stand up and say a few words at a meeting your mind goes blank.
...You have a 'X-File'quote for every occasion and on every one of those occasions you use them.
..You use a quote from 'X-Files' in your e-mail signature.
...When you see a picture from the show you can tell at first glance the title of the episode it was from, the season, and the basic plot. Most of the time you can even supply a few choice quotes from the episode,
...The only words in Russian you know aren't appropiate for certain audiences. (Thanks a lot Krycek.)
...Bees. They aren't just for honey anymore.
...You get wistful when driving by a cornfield. (Mulder! Scully!)
...Whenever you see the color blue you marvel at how it's like a gentle breeze.
...You know all the In-Jokes in each episode.
...When you hear the word 'fox' the first image in your head is not of a small woodland creature.
...You start eating sunflower seeds just because they remind you of Mulder.
...You perk up when you hear a character in a film or TV show mention that the FBI have been called in only to be disappointed when the Feds who arrive aren't Mulder or Scully. Or even Doggett for that matter.
...You know more about exsanguination than anyone who isn't a medical doctor or a vampire has a right to.
...You know Mulder & Scully's badge numbers, birth dates, and addresses by heart but you still have trouble remembering the exact date of your parent's wedding anniversary.
...You take a Latin class just to keep up on the episode titles.
...You could spend hours discussing the complex intricacies and underlying themes of 'The X-Files' but if someone asks you to stand up and say a few words at a meeting your mind goes blank.
...You have a 'X-File'quote for every occasion and on every one of those occasions you use them.
..You use a quote from 'X-Files' in your e-mail signature.
...When you see a picture from the show you can tell at first glance the title of the episode it was from, the season, and the basic plot. Most of the time you can even supply a few choice quotes from the episode,
...The only words in Russian you know aren't appropiate for certain audiences. (Thanks a lot Krycek.)
...Bees. They aren't just for honey anymore.
...You get wistful when driving by a cornfield. (Mulder! Scully!)
...Whenever you see the color blue you marvel at how it's like a gentle breeze.
...You know all the In-Jokes in each episode.
...When you hear the word 'fox' the first image in your head is not of a small woodland creature.
Saturday, 1 December 2001
Kathrynia
Kat purred softly and curled comfortably around the fire. Remembering her mother's advice, she coyly tucked her tail safely away from the dancing flames. She purred again, ever so softly, feeling lost and alone, she looked around the temple with large cat-eyes.
Its been a month since she last saw her family. They were on the way to Keratch when she lost them. She kicked herself for the umpteenth time. She knew she should not have chased after that elusive butterfly, leaving her family behind. But it was such a pretty butterfly. And it smelled strangely of melted butter! It was too much for a curious kitten to bear, and Kat chased the butterfly for miles, before she suddenly realized she was lost.
Tears welled up in her blue eyes, as Kat tried to find a familiar face amongst the strangers in the temple. She purred again, sadly. Perhaps to an untrained ear, all purrs seem the same. But to another mrem, a sad purr is as different to a happy purr like a sob to a giggle.
A soft purr whispered in her ear. Kat looked up, startled, for she did not even notice anyone next to her. A shadowy mrem with a sombre ring around his tail smiled and offered his paw to her.
She reached out and took it, following the mrem to a Pawn Shop. He then sneaked through a small door, taking Kat with him.
Blinking, her cat-eyes adjusted almost immediately to the darkness of the room. The room was dark lit only by four candles: one in each corner. The walls, floor and ceiling were made from paneled wood shining with a thick glaze. An nstructor slipped in and out of the shadows showing students how to sneak and steal. Targets and straw dummies hung on the walls covered with embedded daggers in vital areas.
"Learn all you can, dear Kat." the shadowy mrem said. "Learn to take care of yourself. They are the best you can learn from."
Kat nodded slowly, afterall, what else could she do? She was alone, lost and but a kitten. And now, she had found a friend and a teacher.
Within days, she was a languid sleek female mrem. Her fur is midnight blue and neatly groomed, with a small patch of white just at tip of her left back paw.She moves around slowly, her large blue eyes wide open and sharp ears twitching ever so slightly. Completely relaxed and always at ease, her long limbs are slightly muscled. Her face is pleasant (for a mrem), with a small triangular black nose above a mouth perpetually curled into a grin. Tiny white fangs peek out from her lips, giving her an almost sinister look. Almost, if she did not grin as much as she does. She smells slightly of catnip.
She was now a lithe young female mrem with midnight blue fur.
Now to find her family.
Kat purred softly and curled comfortably around the fire. Remembering her mother's advice, she coyly tucked her tail safely away from the dancing flames. She purred again, ever so softly, feeling lost and alone, she looked around the temple with large cat-eyes.
Its been a month since she last saw her family. They were on the way to Keratch when she lost them. She kicked herself for the umpteenth time. She knew she should not have chased after that elusive butterfly, leaving her family behind. But it was such a pretty butterfly. And it smelled strangely of melted butter! It was too much for a curious kitten to bear, and Kat chased the butterfly for miles, before she suddenly realized she was lost.
Tears welled up in her blue eyes, as Kat tried to find a familiar face amongst the strangers in the temple. She purred again, sadly. Perhaps to an untrained ear, all purrs seem the same. But to another mrem, a sad purr is as different to a happy purr like a sob to a giggle.
A soft purr whispered in her ear. Kat looked up, startled, for she did not even notice anyone next to her. A shadowy mrem with a sombre ring around his tail smiled and offered his paw to her.
She reached out and took it, following the mrem to a Pawn Shop. He then sneaked through a small door, taking Kat with him.
Blinking, her cat-eyes adjusted almost immediately to the darkness of the room. The room was dark lit only by four candles: one in each corner. The walls, floor and ceiling were made from paneled wood shining with a thick glaze. An nstructor slipped in and out of the shadows showing students how to sneak and steal. Targets and straw dummies hung on the walls covered with embedded daggers in vital areas.
"Learn all you can, dear Kat." the shadowy mrem said. "Learn to take care of yourself. They are the best you can learn from."
Kat nodded slowly, afterall, what else could she do? She was alone, lost and but a kitten. And now, she had found a friend and a teacher.
Within days, she was a languid sleek female mrem. Her fur is midnight blue and neatly groomed, with a small patch of white just at tip of her left back paw.She moves around slowly, her large blue eyes wide open and sharp ears twitching ever so slightly. Completely relaxed and always at ease, her long limbs are slightly muscled. Her face is pleasant (for a mrem), with a small triangular black nose above a mouth perpetually curled into a grin. Tiny white fangs peek out from her lips, giving her an almost sinister look. Almost, if she did not grin as much as she does. She smells slightly of catnip.
She was now a lithe young female mrem with midnight blue fur.
Now to find her family.
Thursday, 15 November 2001
They stood proudly in the Dark.
Ebony black wings stretch out behind her, her midnight black hair curled around her shoulders. She carries unholy weapons, and she is clad in pitch black armour.
She was the Angel of Darkness, resplendent in its Malediction. She knows no purpose, only purpose is to Defend the Dark with him, to Protect the Dark with him. Only purpose is to spread the Dark with him, to expose all that is Light. She does not remember yesterday. She does not care of tomorrow. To her, today is an endless night with him.
Mortal seasons passed, & he had slowly slipped away from her. Standing in Darkness, she did not notice. Till one day, she realized she stood alone in the Dark.
She was angel of Darkness, but then so was he. Sorrow pierced the Darkness, and she can no longer remain. Such foolishness, she let him take her soul.
She stood proudly in the Dark.
Souless & void waiting for him. Till at last, ebony wings were torn, midnight black hair was matted. Pitch black armour were bloody, feet were calloused. Unholy weapons clenched in hand, she slumped on the floor and sobbed for half a century.
Sighing, she turned her back to Darkness and shielded herself from the Light.
She stood proudly.
Slate grey wings stretch out behind her, her ash blue hair curled around her shoulders. Grey robes cover her body, her feet bare. She does not carry a weapon, and she does not wear a single piece of armour.
Another stepped in front of her yet again. Obscured in Darkness, he enveloped her totally in his embrace. For a fleeting moment, Darkness befell her. He would not let go, he tightened his embace.
He stood proudly in the Dark.
In cover of Darkness, he whispered in her ear, 'Listen to me : The one you seek also seeks you.' He took her hand, raised her flawless face to his, and he kissed her.
She did not move, nor did she flinch. She had been the Temptress, the Siren. But now she was Eve.
She stood proudly.
He would not be stopped. Smiling, he whispered in her ear, 'Walk with me, for I know where you long to go.'
Her eyes flashed for a second, he could have missed it. But in Darkness, he did not. Drawing her into his Dark embrace, he raised her flawless face to his, and he kissed her.
He asked for her hand, she did not resist. And with it, her soul to him. In return he gave Darkness back to her.
Ebony black wings stretch out behind her, her midnight black hair curled around her shoulders. She carries unholy weapons, and she is clad in pitch black armour.
They stood proudly in the Dark
Ebony black wings stretch out behind her, her midnight black hair curled around her shoulders. She carries unholy weapons, and she is clad in pitch black armour.
She was the Angel of Darkness, resplendent in its Malediction. She knows no purpose, only purpose is to Defend the Dark with him, to Protect the Dark with him. Only purpose is to spread the Dark with him, to expose all that is Light. She does not remember yesterday. She does not care of tomorrow. To her, today is an endless night with him.
Mortal seasons passed, & he had slowly slipped away from her. Standing in Darkness, she did not notice. Till one day, she realized she stood alone in the Dark.
She was angel of Darkness, but then so was he. Sorrow pierced the Darkness, and she can no longer remain. Such foolishness, she let him take her soul.
She stood proudly in the Dark.
Souless & void waiting for him. Till at last, ebony wings were torn, midnight black hair was matted. Pitch black armour were bloody, feet were calloused. Unholy weapons clenched in hand, she slumped on the floor and sobbed for half a century.
Sighing, she turned her back to Darkness and shielded herself from the Light.
She stood proudly.
Slate grey wings stretch out behind her, her ash blue hair curled around her shoulders. Grey robes cover her body, her feet bare. She does not carry a weapon, and she does not wear a single piece of armour.
Another stepped in front of her yet again. Obscured in Darkness, he enveloped her totally in his embrace. For a fleeting moment, Darkness befell her. He would not let go, he tightened his embace.
He stood proudly in the Dark.
In cover of Darkness, he whispered in her ear, 'Listen to me : The one you seek also seeks you.' He took her hand, raised her flawless face to his, and he kissed her.
She did not move, nor did she flinch. She had been the Temptress, the Siren. But now she was Eve.
She stood proudly.
He would not be stopped. Smiling, he whispered in her ear, 'Walk with me, for I know where you long to go.'
Her eyes flashed for a second, he could have missed it. But in Darkness, he did not. Drawing her into his Dark embrace, he raised her flawless face to his, and he kissed her.
He asked for her hand, she did not resist. And with it, her soul to him. In return he gave Darkness back to her.
Ebony black wings stretch out behind her, her midnight black hair curled around her shoulders. She carries unholy weapons, and she is clad in pitch black armour.
They stood proudly in the Dark
Sunday, 4 November 2001
That Day
Natalie Imbruglia
That day, that day
What a mess what a marvel
I walked into that cloud again
And I lost myself
And I'm sad, sad, sad
Small, alone, scared
Craving purity
A fragile mind and
A gentle spirit
That day, that day
What a marvellous mess
This is all that I can do
I'm done to be me
Sad, scared, small, alone, beautiful
It's supposed to be like this
I accept everything
It's supposed to be like this
That day, that day
I lay down beside myself
In this feeling of pain, sadness
Scared, small, climbing, crawling
Towards the light
And it's all I see and
I'm tired and I'm right
And I'm wrong
And it's beautiful
That day that day
What a mess
What a marvel
We're all the same
And no one thinks so
And it's okay
And I'm small
And I'm divine
And it's beautiful
And it's coming
But it's already here
And it's absolutely perfect
That day, that day
When everything was a mess
And everything was in place
And there's too much hurt
Sad, small, scared, alone
And everyone's a cynic
And it's hard and it's sweet
But it's supposed
To be like this
That day, that day
When I sat in the sun
And I thought and I cried
'Cause I'm sad, scared, small
Alone, strong
And I'm nothing
And I'm true
Only a brave man
Can break through
And it's all okay
Yeah, it's okay
Natalie Imbruglia
That day, that day
What a mess what a marvel
I walked into that cloud again
And I lost myself
And I'm sad, sad, sad
Small, alone, scared
Craving purity
A fragile mind and
A gentle spirit
That day, that day
What a marvellous mess
This is all that I can do
I'm done to be me
Sad, scared, small, alone, beautiful
It's supposed to be like this
I accept everything
It's supposed to be like this
That day, that day
I lay down beside myself
In this feeling of pain, sadness
Scared, small, climbing, crawling
Towards the light
And it's all I see and
I'm tired and I'm right
And I'm wrong
And it's beautiful
That day that day
What a mess
What a marvel
We're all the same
And no one thinks so
And it's okay
And I'm small
And I'm divine
And it's beautiful
And it's coming
But it's already here
And it's absolutely perfect
That day, that day
When everything was a mess
And everything was in place
And there's too much hurt
Sad, small, scared, alone
And everyone's a cynic
And it's hard and it's sweet
But it's supposed
To be like this
That day, that day
When I sat in the sun
And I thought and I cried
'Cause I'm sad, scared, small
Alone, strong
And I'm nothing
And I'm true
Only a brave man
Can break through
And it's all okay
Yeah, it's okay
Francois has Balls!
*smirk* The card list for the my V:tES (Vampire, the Eternal Struggle Deckmaster) 'Francois has Balls!' deck.
Library
Reaction Cards
Telepathic Counter X 6
The Second Tradition : Domain X 2
Legacy of Power
Action Cards
The Third Tradition : Progeny X 2
The Fifth Tradition : Hospitality X 2
Action Modifier Cards
Bewitching Oration X 4
Voter Captivation X 6
Aire of Elation X 4
Awe X 2
Combat Cards
Majesty X 8
Political Action Cards
Consanguineous Boon X 5
Toreador Justicar
Praxis Seizure : Brussels
Praxis Seizure : Amsterdam
Praxis Seizure : Monaco
Praxis Seizure : Berlin
Protect Thine Own X 2
Ancient Influence
Reinforcements
Political Stranglehold
Sabbat Threat X 2
Kine Resources Contested X 8
Conservative Agitation X 4
Master Cards
Art Museum
Blood Doll X 4
Elysium : The Arboretum
Protected Resources X 2
Presence X 2
Dreams of the Sphinx
Toreador Grand Ball X 3
Society Hunting Ground
The Louvre, Paris
Secure Haven
Giant's Blood
Information Highway X 2
Tomb of Rameses III X 2
Minion Tap
Aching Beauty X 2
Crypt
Francois Villon X 2
Victoria Ash
Isabel de Leon
Mariana Gilbert
Anson X 2
Alexandra X 2
Demetrious Slater
Delilah Easton
Ramiel DuPre
*smirk* The card list for the my V:tES (Vampire, the Eternal Struggle Deckmaster) 'Francois has Balls!' deck.
Library
Reaction Cards
Telepathic Counter X 6
The Second Tradition : Domain X 2
Legacy of Power
Action Cards
The Third Tradition : Progeny X 2
The Fifth Tradition : Hospitality X 2
Action Modifier Cards
Bewitching Oration X 4
Voter Captivation X 6
Aire of Elation X 4
Awe X 2
Combat Cards
Majesty X 8
Political Action Cards
Consanguineous Boon X 5
Toreador Justicar
Praxis Seizure : Brussels
Praxis Seizure : Amsterdam
Praxis Seizure : Monaco
Praxis Seizure : Berlin
Protect Thine Own X 2
Ancient Influence
Reinforcements
Political Stranglehold
Sabbat Threat X 2
Kine Resources Contested X 8
Conservative Agitation X 4
Master Cards
Art Museum
Blood Doll X 4
Elysium : The Arboretum
Protected Resources X 2
Presence X 2
Dreams of the Sphinx
Toreador Grand Ball X 3
Society Hunting Ground
The Louvre, Paris
Secure Haven
Giant's Blood
Information Highway X 2
Tomb of Rameses III X 2
Minion Tap
Aching Beauty X 2
Crypt
Francois Villon X 2
Victoria Ash
Isabel de Leon
Mariana Gilbert
Anson X 2
Alexandra X 2
Demetrious Slater
Delilah Easton
Ramiel DuPre
Friday, 26 October 2001
Bubble Tea
(Bubble teas are the latest fad to hit the Asian tea industry. I hate bubble tea, really.)
3 ounces tapioca pearls
sugar syrup
1 cup brewed tea (Chinese black tea or lychee tea is good)
1 cup milk (or to taste)
Ice cubes
Directions
Prepare the sugar syrup for the tapioca pearls (see below).
Prepare the tapioca pearls (see below)
Place the tapioca pearls in the large glass jar
Allow the tea to cool to room temperature. Add the milk.
Add the sugar syrup, milk and tea mix, and the ice cubes to a cocktail shaker and shake well.
Pour the shaken mixture into the glass with the tapioca pearls. Serve with a thick straw.
Tapioca Pearls - these are the chief ingredient in Asian bubble teas.
Please note that the pearls expand considerably when cooked. Please ensure that you use a large pot.
1 part tapioca pearls
4 parts (or more) water
(as a rule, the more pearls cooked, the more water should be used: that is, the water to pearl ratio must be higher. For 3kgs of pearls, we recommend using as much as 6 times as much water)
Directions:
Boil the water. Add the pearls to the boiling water and boil for 30 minutes. Stir occasionally to make sure the pearls are not sticking to each other or to the pot. Turn off heat and let the pearls steep in the water for another 30 minutes with the lid of the cooking pot on.
Drain the tapioca pearls and rinse with cold water to cool them down. Place them in sugar syrup (sugar and water solution - see below). Make sure that the pearls are covered. Stir the pearls well.
Note: To prevent the pearls from sticking to each other and to the pot, there must be enough water and the pearls must be stirred.
Sugar Syrup
2 parts white sugar
1 part brown sugar
3 parts water
In a saucepan, bring the water to boil. Add the sugars. Reduce heat and heat until the sugar crystals are dissolved. Remove from heat.
(Bubble teas are the latest fad to hit the Asian tea industry. I hate bubble tea, really.)
3 ounces tapioca pearls
sugar syrup
1 cup brewed tea (Chinese black tea or lychee tea is good)
1 cup milk (or to taste)
Ice cubes
Directions
Prepare the sugar syrup for the tapioca pearls (see below).
Prepare the tapioca pearls (see below)
Place the tapioca pearls in the large glass jar
Allow the tea to cool to room temperature. Add the milk.
Add the sugar syrup, milk and tea mix, and the ice cubes to a cocktail shaker and shake well.
Pour the shaken mixture into the glass with the tapioca pearls. Serve with a thick straw.
Tapioca Pearls - these are the chief ingredient in Asian bubble teas.
Please note that the pearls expand considerably when cooked. Please ensure that you use a large pot.
1 part tapioca pearls
4 parts (or more) water
(as a rule, the more pearls cooked, the more water should be used: that is, the water to pearl ratio must be higher. For 3kgs of pearls, we recommend using as much as 6 times as much water)
Directions:
Boil the water. Add the pearls to the boiling water and boil for 30 minutes. Stir occasionally to make sure the pearls are not sticking to each other or to the pot. Turn off heat and let the pearls steep in the water for another 30 minutes with the lid of the cooking pot on.
Drain the tapioca pearls and rinse with cold water to cool them down. Place them in sugar syrup (sugar and water solution - see below). Make sure that the pearls are covered. Stir the pearls well.
Note: To prevent the pearls from sticking to each other and to the pot, there must be enough water and the pearls must be stirred.
Sugar Syrup
2 parts white sugar
1 part brown sugar
3 parts water
In a saucepan, bring the water to boil. Add the sugars. Reduce heat and heat until the sugar crystals are dissolved. Remove from heat.
Tuesday, 23 October 2001
The Power of Love
I´ll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
Feels like fire
I'm so in love with you
Dreams are like angels
They keep bad at bay
Love is the light
Scaring darkness away
I'm so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
Flame on, burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
I'll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
When the chips are down I'll be around
With my undying, death-defying
Love for you
Envy will hurt itself
Let yourself be beautiful
Sparkling love, flowers
And pearls and pretty girls
Love is like an energy
Rushing inside of me
The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
Flame on burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
This time we go sublime
Lovers entwine, divine divine
Love is danger, love is pleasure
Love is pure, the only treasure
I'm so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
The power of love
A force from above
A sky-scraping dove
Flame on, burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
I'll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
(Frankie goes to Hollywood)
I´ll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
Feels like fire
I'm so in love with you
Dreams are like angels
They keep bad at bay
Love is the light
Scaring darkness away
I'm so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
Flame on, burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
I'll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
When the chips are down I'll be around
With my undying, death-defying
Love for you
Envy will hurt itself
Let yourself be beautiful
Sparkling love, flowers
And pearls and pretty girls
Love is like an energy
Rushing inside of me
The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
Flame on burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
This time we go sublime
Lovers entwine, divine divine
Love is danger, love is pleasure
Love is pure, the only treasure
I'm so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
The power of love
A force from above
A sky-scraping dove
Flame on, burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love, your goal
I'll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
(Frankie goes to Hollywood)
Maia
Maia read the letter in her hand, and for the first time in years, felt anger. Anger at her own stupidity, anger at his betrayal, anger at her insane waste of time.
She crumpled the letter and almost immediately, straightened it out again. Maia needed to read it again. And again.
It was nothing new, this letter. Again, he broke her heart with a few lines of meaningless words, callously thrown together to justify the umpteenth time her heart would be torn from her.
To Maia, this would be the last time she would ever fall into his trap again. Very, very last time. Oh, the foolish vows of one so spurned.
In half a year, all seemed forgotten. Maia was smiling again in his arms. She did not pause for a moment to wonder why. It was as if time had not existed for the last 6 months for her. Everything was inconsequential. Nothing mattered. But this was only for her, silly Maia.
In the last 6 months, he had fallen in love with someone else. He said he would never, but lies, all lies. For reasons known only to him, he disregarded Maia's already broken soul, and drew her in like a moth. Perhaps it was a flaw of men, to feel a need to possess all. Mercilessly, he possessed Maia.
As with all lies, the truth would prevail. Suddenly, Maia's eyes opened. And the pain of the years of betrayal poured down upon her without remorse. There was only so much pain her wrecked soul could take.
With a sigh, and but a single tear, Maia left him forever. He might never know she did, he might never know why. Maia needed to leave, to never again to be trapped. Her vows, oh foolish vows, must never be broken again.
Looking upon the horizon, Maia headed for the highest mountain. And there, she seeked refuge with a reknowned herbalist and devout nun. Maia's unwavering devotion to the art and the religion moved her mistress, and within a year, was a full fledged sister of the order.
Maia made her final vow in the name of the art, and this vow, she must never break.
Maia read the letter in her hand, and for the first time in years, felt anger. Anger at her own stupidity, anger at his betrayal, anger at her insane waste of time.
She crumpled the letter and almost immediately, straightened it out again. Maia needed to read it again. And again.
It was nothing new, this letter. Again, he broke her heart with a few lines of meaningless words, callously thrown together to justify the umpteenth time her heart would be torn from her.
To Maia, this would be the last time she would ever fall into his trap again. Very, very last time. Oh, the foolish vows of one so spurned.
In half a year, all seemed forgotten. Maia was smiling again in his arms. She did not pause for a moment to wonder why. It was as if time had not existed for the last 6 months for her. Everything was inconsequential. Nothing mattered. But this was only for her, silly Maia.
In the last 6 months, he had fallen in love with someone else. He said he would never, but lies, all lies. For reasons known only to him, he disregarded Maia's already broken soul, and drew her in like a moth. Perhaps it was a flaw of men, to feel a need to possess all. Mercilessly, he possessed Maia.
As with all lies, the truth would prevail. Suddenly, Maia's eyes opened. And the pain of the years of betrayal poured down upon her without remorse. There was only so much pain her wrecked soul could take.
With a sigh, and but a single tear, Maia left him forever. He might never know she did, he might never know why. Maia needed to leave, to never again to be trapped. Her vows, oh foolish vows, must never be broken again.
Looking upon the horizon, Maia headed for the highest mountain. And there, she seeked refuge with a reknowned herbalist and devout nun. Maia's unwavering devotion to the art and the religion moved her mistress, and within a year, was a full fledged sister of the order.
Maia made her final vow in the name of the art, and this vow, she must never break.
Friday, 19 October 2001
Super-Toys Last All Summer Long
By Brian Aldiss
Wired magazine, Jan 1997
Though Brian Aldiss bristles at being pigeonholed as a sci-fi writer, the British author has won every major science fiction award. He has also sparked director Stanley Kubrick's imagination with the short story "Super-Toys Last All Summer Long." First published in Harper's Bazaar in 1969 and later anthologized, this tale of humanity in an age of intelligent machines and of the aching loneliness endemic in an overpopulated future is the inspiration behind Kubrick's ongoing AI project. Aldiss's story offers richly suggestive details that one hopes will make the cinematic cut. But just in case they don't, read the original.
In Mrs. Swinton's garden, it was always summer. The lovely almond trees stood about it in perpetual leaf. Monica Swinton plucked a saffron-colored rose and showed it to David.
"Isn't it lovely?" she said.
David looked up at her and grinned without replying. Seizing the flower, he ran with it across the lawn and disappeared behind the kennel where the mowervator crouched, ready to cut or sweep or roll when the moment dictated. She stood alone on her impeccable plastic gravel path.
She had tried to love him.
When she made up her mind to follow the boy, she found him in the courtyard floating the rose in his paddling pool. He stood in the pool engrossed, still wearing his sandals.
"David, darling, do you have to be so awful? Come in at once and change your shoes and socks."
He went with her without protest into the house, his dark head bobbing at the level of her waist. At the age of three, he showed no fear of the ultrasonic dryer in the kitchen. But before his mother could reach for a pair of slippers, he wriggled away and was gone into the silence of the house.
He would probably be looking for Teddy.
Monica Swinton, twenty-nine, of graceful shape and lambent eye, went and sat in her living room, arranging her limbs with taste. She began by sitting and thinking; soon she was just sitting. Time waited on her shoulder with the maniac slowth it reserves for children, the insane, and wives whose husbands are away improving the world. Almost by reflex, she reached out and changed the wavelength of her windows. The garden faded; in its place, the city center rose by her left hand, full of crowding people, blowboats, and buildings (but she kept the sound down). She remained alone. An overcrowded world is the ideal place in which to be lonely.
The directors of Synthank were eating an enormous luncheon to celebrate the launching of their new product. Some of them wore the plastic face-masks popular at the time. All were elegantly slender, despite the rich food and drink they were putting away. Their wives were elegantly slender, despite the food and drink they too were putting away. An earlier and less sophisti- cated generation would have regarded them as beautiful people, apart from their eyes.
Henry Swinton, Managing Director of Synthank, was about to make a speech.
"I'm sorry your wife couldn't be with us to hear you," his neighbor said.
"Monica prefers to stay at home thinking beautiful thoughts," said Swinton, maintaining a smile.
"One would expect such a beautiful woman to have beautiful thoughts," said the neighbor.
Take your mind off my wife, you bastard, thought Swinton, still smiling.
He rose to make his speech amid applause.
After a couple of jokes, he said, "Today marks a real breakthrough for the company. It is now almost ten years since we put our first synthetic life-forms on the world market. You all know what a success they have been, particularly the miniature dinosaurs. But none of them had intelligence.
"It seems like a paradox that in this day and age we can create life but not intelligence. Our first selling line, the Crosswell Tape, sells best of all, and is the most stupid of all." Everyone laughed.
"Though three-quarters of the overcrowded world are starving, we are lucky here to have more than enough, thanks to population control. Obesity's our problem, not malnutrition. I guess there's nobody round this table who doesn't have a Crosswell working for him in the small intestine, a perfectly safe parasite tape-worm that enables its host to eat up to fifty percent more food and still keep his or her figure. Right?" General nods of agreement.
"Our miniature dinosaurs are almost equally stupid. Today, we launch an intelligent synthetic life-form - a full-size serving-man.
"Not only does he have intelligence, he has a controlled amount of intelligence. We believe people would be afraid of a being with a human brain. Our serving-man has a small computer in his cranium.
"There have been mechanicals on the market with mini-computers for brains - plastic things without life, super-toys - but we have at last found a way to link computer circuitry with synthetic flesh."
David sat by the long window of his nursery, wrestling with paper and pencil. Finally, he stopped writing and began to roll the pencil up and down the slope of the desk-lid.
"Teddy!" he said.
Teddy lay on the bed against the wall, under a book with moving pictures and a giant plastic soldier. The speech-pattern of his master's voice activated him and he sat up.
"Teddy, I can't think what to say!"
Climbing off the bed, the bear walked stiffly over to cling to the boy's leg. David lifted him and set him on the desk.
"What have you said so far?"
"I've said -" He picked up his letter and stared hard at it. "I've said, 'Dear Mummy, I hope you're well just now. I love you....'"
There was a long silence, until the bear said, "That sounds fine. Go downstairs and give it to her."
Another long silence.
"It isn't quite right. She won't understand."
Inside the bear, a small computer worked through its program of possibilities. "Why not do it again in crayon?"
When David did not answer, the bear repeated his suggestion. "Why not do it again in crayon?"
David was staring out of the window. "Teddy, you know what I was thinking? How do you tell what are real things from what aren't real things?"
The bear shuffled its alternatives. "Real things are good."
"I wonder if time is good.
I don't think Mummy likes time very much. The other day, lots of days ago, she said that time went by her. Is time real, Teddy?"
"Clocks tell the time. Clocks are real. Mummy has clocks so she must like them. She has a clock on her wrist next to her dial."
David started to draw a jumbo jet on the back of his letter. "You and I are real, Teddy, aren't we?"
The bear's eyes regarded the boy unflinchingly. "You and I are real, David." It specialized in comfort.
Monica walked slowly about the house. It was almost time for the afternoon post to come over the wire. She punched the Post Office number on the dial on her wrist but nothing came through. A few minutes more.
She could take up her painting. Or she could dial her friends. Or she could wait till Henry came home. Or she could go up and play with David....
She walked out into the hall and to the bottom of the stairs.
"David!"
No answer. She called again and a third time.
"Teddy!" she called, in sharper tones.
"Yes, Mummy!" After a moment's pause, Teddy's head of golden fur appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Is David in his room, Teddy?"
"David went into the garden, Mummy."
"Come down here, Teddy!"
She stood impassively, watching the little furry figure as it climbed down from step to step on its stubby limbs. When it reached the bottom, she picked it up and carried it into the living room. It lay unmoving in her arms, staring up at her. She could feel just the slightest vibration from its motor.
"Stand there, Teddy. I want to talk to you." She set him down on a tabletop, and he stood as she requested, arms set forward and open in the eternal gesture of embrace.
"Teddy, did David tell you to tell me he had gone into the garden?"
The circuits of the bear's brain were too simple for artifice. "Yes, Mummy."
"So you lied to me."
"Yes, Mummy."
"Stop calling me Mummy! Why is David avoiding me? He's not afraid of me, is he?"
"No. He loves you."
"Why can't we communicate?"
"David's upstairs."
The answer stopped her dead. Why waste time talking to this machine? Why not simply go upstairs and scoop David into her arms and talk to him, as a loving mother should to a loving son? She heard the sheer weight of silence in the house, with a different quality of silence pouring out of every room. On the upper landing, something was moving very silently - David, trying to hide away from her....
He was nearing the end of his speech now. The guests were attentive; so was the Press, lining two walls of the banqueting chamber, recording Henry's words and occasionally photographing him.
"Our serving-man will be, in many senses, a product of the computer. Without computers, we could never have worked through the sophisticated biochemics that go into synthetic flesh. The serving-man will also be an extension of the computer - for he will contain a computer in his own head, a microminiaturized computer capable of dealing with almost any situation he may encounter in the home. With reservations, of course." Laughter at this; many of those present knew the heated debate that had engulfed the Synthank boardroom before the decision had finally been taken to leave the serving-man neuter under his flawless uniform.
"Amid all the triumphs of our civilization - yes, and amid the crushing problems of overpopulation too - it is sad to reflect how many millions of people suffer from increasing loneliness and isolation. Our serving-man will be a boon to them; he will always answer, and the most vapid conversation cannot bore him.
"For the future, we plan more models, male and female - some of them without the limitations of this first one, I promise you! - of more advanced design, true bio-electronic beings.
"Not only will they possess their own computer, capable of individual programming; they will be linked to the World Data Network. Thus everyone will be able to enjoy the equivalent of an Einstein in their own homes. Personal isolation will then be banished forever!"
He sat down to enthusiastic applause. Even the synthetic serving-man, sitting at the table dressed in an unostentatious suit, applauded with gusto.
Dragging his satchel, David crept round the side of the house. He climbed on to the ornamental seat under the living-room window and peeped cautiously in.
His mother stood in the middle of the room. Her face was blank; its lack of expression scared him. He watched fascinated. He did not move; she did not move. Time might have stopped, as it had stopped in the garden.
At last she turned and left the room. After waiting a moment, David tapped on the window. Teddy looked round, saw him, tumbled off the table, and came over to the window. Fumbling with his paws, he eventually got it open.
They looked at each other.
"I'm no good, Teddy. Let's run away!"
"You're a very good boy. Your Mummy loves you."
Slowly, he shook his head. "If she loved me, then why can't I talk to her?"
"You're being silly, David. Mummy's lonely. That's why she had you."
"She's got Daddy. I've got nobody 'cept you, and I'm lonely."
Teddy gave him a friendly cuff over the head. "If you feel so bad, you'd better go to the psychiatrist again."
"I hate that old psychiatrist - he makes me feel I'm not real." He started to run across the lawn. The bear toppled out of the window and followed as fast as its stubby legs would allow.
Monica Swinton was up in the nursery. She called to her son once and then stood there, undecided. All was silent.
Crayons lay on his desk. Obeying a sudden impulse, she went over to the desk and opened it. Dozens of pieces of paper lay inside. Many of them were written in crayon in David's clumsy writing, with each letter picked out in a color different from the letter preceding it. None of the messages was finished.
"My dear Mummy, How are you really, do you love me as much -"
"Dear Mummy, I love you and Daddy and the sun is shining -"
"Dear dear Mummy, Teddy's helping me write to you. I love you and Teddy -"
"Darling Mummy, I'm your one and only son and I love you so much that some times -"
"Dear Mummy, you're really my Mummy and I hate Teddy -"
"Darling Mummy, guess how much I love -"
"Dear Mummy, I'm your little boy not Teddy and I love you but Teddy -"
"Dear Mummy, this is a letter to you just to say how much how ever so much -"
Monica dropped the pieces of paper and burst out crying. In their gay inaccurate colors, the letters fanned out and settled on the floor.
Henry Swinton caught the express home in high spirits, and occasionally said a word to the synthetic serving-man he was taking home with him. The serving-man answered politely and punctually, although his answers were not always entirely relevant by human standards.
The Swintons lived in one of the ritziest city-blocks, half a kilometer above the ground. Embedded in other apartments, their apartment had no windows to the outside; nobody wanted to see the overcrowded external world. Henry unlocked the door with his retina pattern-scanner and walked in, followed by the serving-man.
At once, Henry was sur-rounded by the friendly illusion of gardens set in eternal summer. It was amazing what Whologram could do to create huge mirages in small spaces. Behind its roses and wisteria stood their house; the deception was complete: a Georgian mansion appeared to welcome him.
"How do you like it?" he asked the serving-man.
"Roses occasionally suffer from black spot."
"These roses are guaranteed free from any imperfections."
"It is always advisable to purchase goods with guarantees, even if they cost slightly more."
"Thanks for the information," Henry said dryly. Synthetic life-forms were less than ten years old, the old android mechanicals less than sixteen; the faults of their systems were still being ironed out, year by year.
He opened the door and called to Monica.
She came out of the sitting-room immediately and flung her arms round him, kissing him ardently on cheek and lips. Henry was amazed.
Pulling back to look at her face, he saw how she seemed to generate light and beauty. It was months since he had seen her so excited. Instinctively, he clasped her tighter.
"Darling, what's happened?"
"Henry, Henry - oh, my darling, I was in despair ... but I've just dialed the afternoon post and - you'll never believe it! Oh, it's wonderful!"
"For heaven's sake, woman, what's wonderful?"
He caught a glimpse of the heading on the photostat in her hand, still moist from the wall-receiver: Ministry of Population. He felt the color drain from his face in sudden shock and hope.
"Monica ... oh ... Don't tell me our number's come up!"
"Yes, my darling, yes, we've won this week's parenthood lottery! We can go ahead and conceive a child at once!"
He let out a yell of joy. They danced round the room. Pressure of population was such that reproduction had to be strict, controlled. Childbirth required government permission. For this moment, they had waited four years. Incoherently they cried their delight.
They paused at last, gasping, and stood in the middle of the room to laugh at each other's happiness. When she had come down from the nursery, Monica had de-opaqued the windows, so that they now revealed the vista of garden beyond. Artificial sunlight was growing long and golden across the lawn - and David and Teddy were staring through the window at them.
Seeing their faces, Henry and his wife grew serious.
"What do we do about them?" Henry asked.
"Teddy's no trouble. He works well."
"Is David malfunctioning?"
"His verbal communication-center is still giving trouble. I think he'll have to go back to the factory again."
"Okay. We'll see how he does before the baby's born. Which reminds me - I have a surprise for you: help just when help is needed! Come into the hall and see what I've got."
As the two adults disappeared from the room, boy and bear sat down beneath the standard roses.
"Teddy - I suppose Mummy and Daddy are real, aren't they?"
Teddy said, "You ask such silly questions, David. Nobody knows what 'real' really means. Let's go indoors."
"First I'm going to have another rose!" Plucking a bright pink flower, he carried it with him into the house. It could lie on the pillow as he went to sleep. Its beauty and softness reminded him of Mummy.
By Brian Aldiss
Wired magazine, Jan 1997
Though Brian Aldiss bristles at being pigeonholed as a sci-fi writer, the British author has won every major science fiction award. He has also sparked director Stanley Kubrick's imagination with the short story "Super-Toys Last All Summer Long." First published in Harper's Bazaar in 1969 and later anthologized, this tale of humanity in an age of intelligent machines and of the aching loneliness endemic in an overpopulated future is the inspiration behind Kubrick's ongoing AI project. Aldiss's story offers richly suggestive details that one hopes will make the cinematic cut. But just in case they don't, read the original.
In Mrs. Swinton's garden, it was always summer. The lovely almond trees stood about it in perpetual leaf. Monica Swinton plucked a saffron-colored rose and showed it to David.
"Isn't it lovely?" she said.
David looked up at her and grinned without replying. Seizing the flower, he ran with it across the lawn and disappeared behind the kennel where the mowervator crouched, ready to cut or sweep or roll when the moment dictated. She stood alone on her impeccable plastic gravel path.
She had tried to love him.
When she made up her mind to follow the boy, she found him in the courtyard floating the rose in his paddling pool. He stood in the pool engrossed, still wearing his sandals.
"David, darling, do you have to be so awful? Come in at once and change your shoes and socks."
He went with her without protest into the house, his dark head bobbing at the level of her waist. At the age of three, he showed no fear of the ultrasonic dryer in the kitchen. But before his mother could reach for a pair of slippers, he wriggled away and was gone into the silence of the house.
He would probably be looking for Teddy.
Monica Swinton, twenty-nine, of graceful shape and lambent eye, went and sat in her living room, arranging her limbs with taste. She began by sitting and thinking; soon she was just sitting. Time waited on her shoulder with the maniac slowth it reserves for children, the insane, and wives whose husbands are away improving the world. Almost by reflex, she reached out and changed the wavelength of her windows. The garden faded; in its place, the city center rose by her left hand, full of crowding people, blowboats, and buildings (but she kept the sound down). She remained alone. An overcrowded world is the ideal place in which to be lonely.
The directors of Synthank were eating an enormous luncheon to celebrate the launching of their new product. Some of them wore the plastic face-masks popular at the time. All were elegantly slender, despite the rich food and drink they were putting away. Their wives were elegantly slender, despite the food and drink they too were putting away. An earlier and less sophisti- cated generation would have regarded them as beautiful people, apart from their eyes.
Henry Swinton, Managing Director of Synthank, was about to make a speech.
"I'm sorry your wife couldn't be with us to hear you," his neighbor said.
"Monica prefers to stay at home thinking beautiful thoughts," said Swinton, maintaining a smile.
"One would expect such a beautiful woman to have beautiful thoughts," said the neighbor.
Take your mind off my wife, you bastard, thought Swinton, still smiling.
He rose to make his speech amid applause.
After a couple of jokes, he said, "Today marks a real breakthrough for the company. It is now almost ten years since we put our first synthetic life-forms on the world market. You all know what a success they have been, particularly the miniature dinosaurs. But none of them had intelligence.
"It seems like a paradox that in this day and age we can create life but not intelligence. Our first selling line, the Crosswell Tape, sells best of all, and is the most stupid of all." Everyone laughed.
"Though three-quarters of the overcrowded world are starving, we are lucky here to have more than enough, thanks to population control. Obesity's our problem, not malnutrition. I guess there's nobody round this table who doesn't have a Crosswell working for him in the small intestine, a perfectly safe parasite tape-worm that enables its host to eat up to fifty percent more food and still keep his or her figure. Right?" General nods of agreement.
"Our miniature dinosaurs are almost equally stupid. Today, we launch an intelligent synthetic life-form - a full-size serving-man.
"Not only does he have intelligence, he has a controlled amount of intelligence. We believe people would be afraid of a being with a human brain. Our serving-man has a small computer in his cranium.
"There have been mechanicals on the market with mini-computers for brains - plastic things without life, super-toys - but we have at last found a way to link computer circuitry with synthetic flesh."
David sat by the long window of his nursery, wrestling with paper and pencil. Finally, he stopped writing and began to roll the pencil up and down the slope of the desk-lid.
"Teddy!" he said.
Teddy lay on the bed against the wall, under a book with moving pictures and a giant plastic soldier. The speech-pattern of his master's voice activated him and he sat up.
"Teddy, I can't think what to say!"
Climbing off the bed, the bear walked stiffly over to cling to the boy's leg. David lifted him and set him on the desk.
"What have you said so far?"
"I've said -" He picked up his letter and stared hard at it. "I've said, 'Dear Mummy, I hope you're well just now. I love you....'"
There was a long silence, until the bear said, "That sounds fine. Go downstairs and give it to her."
Another long silence.
"It isn't quite right. She won't understand."
Inside the bear, a small computer worked through its program of possibilities. "Why not do it again in crayon?"
When David did not answer, the bear repeated his suggestion. "Why not do it again in crayon?"
David was staring out of the window. "Teddy, you know what I was thinking? How do you tell what are real things from what aren't real things?"
The bear shuffled its alternatives. "Real things are good."
"I wonder if time is good.
I don't think Mummy likes time very much. The other day, lots of days ago, she said that time went by her. Is time real, Teddy?"
"Clocks tell the time. Clocks are real. Mummy has clocks so she must like them. She has a clock on her wrist next to her dial."
David started to draw a jumbo jet on the back of his letter. "You and I are real, Teddy, aren't we?"
The bear's eyes regarded the boy unflinchingly. "You and I are real, David." It specialized in comfort.
Monica walked slowly about the house. It was almost time for the afternoon post to come over the wire. She punched the Post Office number on the dial on her wrist but nothing came through. A few minutes more.
She could take up her painting. Or she could dial her friends. Or she could wait till Henry came home. Or she could go up and play with David....
She walked out into the hall and to the bottom of the stairs.
"David!"
No answer. She called again and a third time.
"Teddy!" she called, in sharper tones.
"Yes, Mummy!" After a moment's pause, Teddy's head of golden fur appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Is David in his room, Teddy?"
"David went into the garden, Mummy."
"Come down here, Teddy!"
She stood impassively, watching the little furry figure as it climbed down from step to step on its stubby limbs. When it reached the bottom, she picked it up and carried it into the living room. It lay unmoving in her arms, staring up at her. She could feel just the slightest vibration from its motor.
"Stand there, Teddy. I want to talk to you." She set him down on a tabletop, and he stood as she requested, arms set forward and open in the eternal gesture of embrace.
"Teddy, did David tell you to tell me he had gone into the garden?"
The circuits of the bear's brain were too simple for artifice. "Yes, Mummy."
"So you lied to me."
"Yes, Mummy."
"Stop calling me Mummy! Why is David avoiding me? He's not afraid of me, is he?"
"No. He loves you."
"Why can't we communicate?"
"David's upstairs."
The answer stopped her dead. Why waste time talking to this machine? Why not simply go upstairs and scoop David into her arms and talk to him, as a loving mother should to a loving son? She heard the sheer weight of silence in the house, with a different quality of silence pouring out of every room. On the upper landing, something was moving very silently - David, trying to hide away from her....
He was nearing the end of his speech now. The guests were attentive; so was the Press, lining two walls of the banqueting chamber, recording Henry's words and occasionally photographing him.
"Our serving-man will be, in many senses, a product of the computer. Without computers, we could never have worked through the sophisticated biochemics that go into synthetic flesh. The serving-man will also be an extension of the computer - for he will contain a computer in his own head, a microminiaturized computer capable of dealing with almost any situation he may encounter in the home. With reservations, of course." Laughter at this; many of those present knew the heated debate that had engulfed the Synthank boardroom before the decision had finally been taken to leave the serving-man neuter under his flawless uniform.
"Amid all the triumphs of our civilization - yes, and amid the crushing problems of overpopulation too - it is sad to reflect how many millions of people suffer from increasing loneliness and isolation. Our serving-man will be a boon to them; he will always answer, and the most vapid conversation cannot bore him.
"For the future, we plan more models, male and female - some of them without the limitations of this first one, I promise you! - of more advanced design, true bio-electronic beings.
"Not only will they possess their own computer, capable of individual programming; they will be linked to the World Data Network. Thus everyone will be able to enjoy the equivalent of an Einstein in their own homes. Personal isolation will then be banished forever!"
He sat down to enthusiastic applause. Even the synthetic serving-man, sitting at the table dressed in an unostentatious suit, applauded with gusto.
Dragging his satchel, David crept round the side of the house. He climbed on to the ornamental seat under the living-room window and peeped cautiously in.
His mother stood in the middle of the room. Her face was blank; its lack of expression scared him. He watched fascinated. He did not move; she did not move. Time might have stopped, as it had stopped in the garden.
At last she turned and left the room. After waiting a moment, David tapped on the window. Teddy looked round, saw him, tumbled off the table, and came over to the window. Fumbling with his paws, he eventually got it open.
They looked at each other.
"I'm no good, Teddy. Let's run away!"
"You're a very good boy. Your Mummy loves you."
Slowly, he shook his head. "If she loved me, then why can't I talk to her?"
"You're being silly, David. Mummy's lonely. That's why she had you."
"She's got Daddy. I've got nobody 'cept you, and I'm lonely."
Teddy gave him a friendly cuff over the head. "If you feel so bad, you'd better go to the psychiatrist again."
"I hate that old psychiatrist - he makes me feel I'm not real." He started to run across the lawn. The bear toppled out of the window and followed as fast as its stubby legs would allow.
Monica Swinton was up in the nursery. She called to her son once and then stood there, undecided. All was silent.
Crayons lay on his desk. Obeying a sudden impulse, she went over to the desk and opened it. Dozens of pieces of paper lay inside. Many of them were written in crayon in David's clumsy writing, with each letter picked out in a color different from the letter preceding it. None of the messages was finished.
"My dear Mummy, How are you really, do you love me as much -"
"Dear Mummy, I love you and Daddy and the sun is shining -"
"Dear dear Mummy, Teddy's helping me write to you. I love you and Teddy -"
"Darling Mummy, I'm your one and only son and I love you so much that some times -"
"Dear Mummy, you're really my Mummy and I hate Teddy -"
"Darling Mummy, guess how much I love -"
"Dear Mummy, I'm your little boy not Teddy and I love you but Teddy -"
"Dear Mummy, this is a letter to you just to say how much how ever so much -"
Monica dropped the pieces of paper and burst out crying. In their gay inaccurate colors, the letters fanned out and settled on the floor.
Henry Swinton caught the express home in high spirits, and occasionally said a word to the synthetic serving-man he was taking home with him. The serving-man answered politely and punctually, although his answers were not always entirely relevant by human standards.
The Swintons lived in one of the ritziest city-blocks, half a kilometer above the ground. Embedded in other apartments, their apartment had no windows to the outside; nobody wanted to see the overcrowded external world. Henry unlocked the door with his retina pattern-scanner and walked in, followed by the serving-man.
At once, Henry was sur-rounded by the friendly illusion of gardens set in eternal summer. It was amazing what Whologram could do to create huge mirages in small spaces. Behind its roses and wisteria stood their house; the deception was complete: a Georgian mansion appeared to welcome him.
"How do you like it?" he asked the serving-man.
"Roses occasionally suffer from black spot."
"These roses are guaranteed free from any imperfections."
"It is always advisable to purchase goods with guarantees, even if they cost slightly more."
"Thanks for the information," Henry said dryly. Synthetic life-forms were less than ten years old, the old android mechanicals less than sixteen; the faults of their systems were still being ironed out, year by year.
He opened the door and called to Monica.
She came out of the sitting-room immediately and flung her arms round him, kissing him ardently on cheek and lips. Henry was amazed.
Pulling back to look at her face, he saw how she seemed to generate light and beauty. It was months since he had seen her so excited. Instinctively, he clasped her tighter.
"Darling, what's happened?"
"Henry, Henry - oh, my darling, I was in despair ... but I've just dialed the afternoon post and - you'll never believe it! Oh, it's wonderful!"
"For heaven's sake, woman, what's wonderful?"
He caught a glimpse of the heading on the photostat in her hand, still moist from the wall-receiver: Ministry of Population. He felt the color drain from his face in sudden shock and hope.
"Monica ... oh ... Don't tell me our number's come up!"
"Yes, my darling, yes, we've won this week's parenthood lottery! We can go ahead and conceive a child at once!"
He let out a yell of joy. They danced round the room. Pressure of population was such that reproduction had to be strict, controlled. Childbirth required government permission. For this moment, they had waited four years. Incoherently they cried their delight.
They paused at last, gasping, and stood in the middle of the room to laugh at each other's happiness. When she had come down from the nursery, Monica had de-opaqued the windows, so that they now revealed the vista of garden beyond. Artificial sunlight was growing long and golden across the lawn - and David and Teddy were staring through the window at them.
Seeing their faces, Henry and his wife grew serious.
"What do we do about them?" Henry asked.
"Teddy's no trouble. He works well."
"Is David malfunctioning?"
"His verbal communication-center is still giving trouble. I think he'll have to go back to the factory again."
"Okay. We'll see how he does before the baby's born. Which reminds me - I have a surprise for you: help just when help is needed! Come into the hall and see what I've got."
As the two adults disappeared from the room, boy and bear sat down beneath the standard roses.
"Teddy - I suppose Mummy and Daddy are real, aren't they?"
Teddy said, "You ask such silly questions, David. Nobody knows what 'real' really means. Let's go indoors."
"First I'm going to have another rose!" Plucking a bright pink flower, he carried it with him into the house. It could lie on the pillow as he went to sleep. Its beauty and softness reminded him of Mummy.
Wednesday, 3 October 2001
*giggle* I got this from the World of Darkness mud I play at.
The Origin of Species
VENTRUE: Okay, guys, sit down. I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here.
TOREADOR: I should think so. I have an engagement in two hours that I simply MUST attend, and I don't want to be late.
VENTRUE: Yeah, yeah. Order! Well, I don't know about you guys, but my Progeny have been asking some rather... embarrassing questions, and I--
MALKAV: Just tell them that when a Mummy and a Daddy love each other very much--
VENTRUE: Shut up, Malkav. Anyway, they want to know where we come from, why, how, the whole bit. I think it's time we had an answer for them.
[silence]
BRUJAH: Well, what are you asking us for? WE don't fucking know.
SAULOT: LANGUAGE!
BRUJAH: Sorry.
VENTRUE: What about you, Ralph? You seem to have your nose in everything.
NOSFERATU: No, I am ... no longer called "Ralph." From this day forward, you shall call me: "Nosferatu."
[silence]
RAVNOS: I dunno, man. Ralph suits you.
NOSFERATU: No! I REFUSE to be stuck with that name.
VENTRUE: Leave him alone Ravnos.
TOREADOR: Actually, while we're on the subject ...
VENTRUE: What is it now?
TOREADOR: I have taken the pseudonym "Toreador."
[more silence]
HASSAM: You've never even SEEN a bull, let alone fight one, Norman.
TOREADOR: LEAVE ME ALONE !!!
RAVNOS: I was gonna say something about "full of ..." Oh, never mind.
VENTRUE: SHALL we get back to business?
LASOMBRA: I think "Nosferatu" sounds cool actually, Ralph.
NOSFERATU: And it's a lot easier to say when you can't retract your fangs.
VENTRUE: GENTLEMEN!
[silence]
VENTRUE: Okay, any ideas?
TZIMISCE: Uh ...
VENTRUE: Yes, Tzimisce?
TZIMISCE: Yas. Do you think it vaz a disease, perrrhaps?
SAULOT: Nnnnnnno ... I don't think so. I'd know about it by now if it was.
MALKAV: Ooo! Ooo! I've got an idea!
VENTRUE: [groan] What?
MALKAV: Ooo! Ooo! We're ALL ... aliens! Yeah! From the planet... Yuggoth!
BRUJAH: Malkav?
MALKAV: Yeah?
BRUJAH: Drop dead.
[silence]
MALKAV: Ain't it just TOO BAD you don't have Dominate?
BRUJAH: REAL men don't NEED Dominate!
[biff]
[thud]
MALKAV: Owww!
RAVNOS: Okay, I've got it.
VENTRUE: Yes?
RAVNOS: They're not REALLY vampires, they just THINK they are.
VENTRUE: Hmmm ... not bad ... but then the dumb ones will try to prove you wrong by taking a sunbake.
LASOMBRA: SO? Weeds out the stupid ones, less of a population problem, less nosey Progeny asking silly questions.
TOREADOR: Lasombra, you are perverted.
LASOMBRA: Hey, am I my brother's keeper?
TZIMISCE: He has a valid point, frrriend.
TOREADOR: Sickening creatures. hmmph.
[sniggering]
SAULOT: Brother's keeper ... hey! That reminds me! You know those guys who wear the funny tea towels on their heads--
HASSAM: WATCH it, three-eyes.
SAULOT: Sorry. Anyway, they have this old story about this one guy who kills his brother and gets cursed, see ...
SUTEKH: Cursssed, you sssay? Hmmm ... I like it!
NOSFERATU: Yeah, but if YOU say it, no one will believe it.
TREMERE: I know! We did it by magick!
[silence]
BRUJAH: Who the hell are you?
TREMERE: Oh. Tremere, Arrogant Scheming Mage at your service!
SAULOT: Hang on, you're not supposed to be here until A.D. 1314!
TREMERE: So? I'm an Oracle of Time. I'll be when I want.
VENTRUE: A mortal, eh? Hey, Tremere!
TREMERE: Yeah?
VENTRUE: GET OUT.
TREMERE: Sure. [slam] [muffled] Damn. Must learn how to do that.
VENTRUE: Now, we might be onto something with this "curse" business. We haven't heard from Gangrel yet, and we need a female opinion at this juncture. What do you think, Gangrel?
[silence]
VENTRUE: Gangrel?
[more silence]
VENTRUE: Anybody seen Gangrel?
RAVNOS: Errr, actually, we've had a bit of a disagreement ...
MALKAV: Awww, doesn't Mummy wuv you any more?
RAVNOS: Suck off.
MALKAV: DOES she do it doggy style?
[biff]
RAVNOS: Thank you, Brujah.
BRUJAH: No prob, bro.
VENTRUE: Okay, so what gives with this curse thing?
SAULOT: Well, they say that the first two sons of the first man had to give offerings to God. The first brother gave plants and stuff, and the second brother gave animal blood.
ALL: Yeah! All right! Sounds great! Cool!
SAULOT: So the older one -- Cain, I think -- killed Abel, the younger one, and was cursed by God for the very first murder.
HASSAM: Innovative man, this Cain.
SUTEKH: Ssso, we're dessscended from a psssychopathic greengrocccer. How about we're dessscended from the MURDERED one, ssso that we are the CHOSSSEN of God, the INHERITORSSS of DIVINE POWER, the--
MALKAV: You REALLY have a God complex, don't you Sutekh? Tell me about your mother. Did she lock you in a cupboard? Or--
[biff]
BRUJAH: Final warning, kook.
VENTRUE: Sutekh, please, stop standing on your chair.
TREMERE: I like the "cursed by God" thing, actually.
VENTRUE: How did YOU get in here?
TREMERE: Correspondence. Don't you know ANYTHING? Hey, Saulot!
SAULOT: Yeah?
TREMERE: I JUST worked out where I've seen you before. Could I have a word with you outside? It won't take more than five minutes. Promise.
SAULOT: Sure. You seem like a decent enough fellow.
[slam]
LASOMBRA: Wonder what he wants ... anyway ...
TOREADOR: I think I prefer the older brother. He's a charming, regal figure who diligently sacrifices for his Lord, but is consumed by jealousy into a desperate act -- which he regrets later, of course -- but TOO LATE to avoid the harsh judgment of an UNCARING God, and is DOOMED to wander the earth, OUTCAST from his fellow man! Oh, the horror! Oh, the HUMANITY! Oh, the ANGST!
BRUJAH: What's an "angst"?
SUTEKH: Oh, it'sss a kind of a crossss, but with a loopy bit on top. My guysss love 'em.
BRUJAH: Oh. [pause] I don't get it ...
TOREADOR: Philistines.
[scream from outside]
TZIMISCE: Vat the hell vas that?
NOSFERATU: Sounded like Saulot. HEY! YOU GUYS SHUT UP OUT THERE!
[door opens]
TREMERE: Oh, sorry, uhhh ... Saulot says to say that, uhhh, he ... had to leave -- real quick, like ... uhhh, but he was REAL happy about it, and, uhhh, he was glad he caught up with you guys again.
NOSFERATU: Is it me, or does he look kinda pale?
VENTRUE: Who cares? Getting back to this curse thing ...
LASOMBRA: So, are we his direct Progeny, then? 'Cos if so, how come we don't know where he is now?
MALKAV: Errr, he made us, then ran away. Really fast.
RAVNOS: No, no, no, he made some OTHER guys first, and then THEY made US ...
TOREADOR: And he repented of The Horror He Had Unleashed Upon The Earth! And banished himself from the sight of ALL!
MALKAV: AND ran away really fast.
TOREADOR: If you must.
VENTRUE: But how come we're all so different?
TOREADOR: The Curse works in Mysterious Ways ...
NOSFERATU: Yeah! I used to be the most handsome man in the world ...
RAVNOS: Yeah, right.
LASOMBRA: And I had a reflection!
BRUJAH: Can I have been a philosopher?
RAVNOS: And Toreador used to have taste ...
MALKAV: And I used to be insane!
[silence]
VENTRUE: I think we might be pushing our luck here.
SUTEKH: Any BETTER ideasss?
VENTRUE: Well, let's put it to a vote, then. Magick?
TREMERE: Aye.
VENTRUE: That's one.
[silence]
VENTRUE: Okay, aliens from the planet Yuggoth?
MALKAV: Twenty-three.
VENTRUE: Your multiple personalities don't count, Malkav.
MALKAV: Awww ...
VENTRUE: The chosen son of God? ... Sutekh, Lasombra, Tzimisce. Any others?
HASSAM: Aye.
VENTRUE: Okay, that's four. Cursed children of a psychopathic greengrocer? ... That's four, plus myself, five.
[groans]
LASOMBRA: Swinging the vote, you black-balling bureaucrat!
VENTRUE: If you don't like it, go and form your OWN group.
LASOMBRA: Maybe I will.
VENTRUE: Okay, then, I charge all of you to disperse this data to your Progeny, and I'll have MY people send out memos in triplicate to YOUR people before the start of the next fiscal year. Meeting adjourned! [banging noise, general muttering and shuffling] Drinks anyone?
MALKAV: I think Tremere just ate. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahhhh ...
TZIMISCE: Vy did you throw him out ze window, Brujah?
BRUJAH: I dunno, man, just something I had to do ... [sulking] none of you understand me, anyway ...
HASSAM: [whispered] Hey, Tremere!
TREMERE: What?
HASSAM: Saulot -- you did him in, didn't you? You snuffed him. Sucked him dry.
TREMERE: Uhhh ... yeah, I did.
[silence]
HASSAM: What's it like?
The Origin of Species
VENTRUE: Okay, guys, sit down. I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here.
TOREADOR: I should think so. I have an engagement in two hours that I simply MUST attend, and I don't want to be late.
VENTRUE: Yeah, yeah. Order! Well, I don't know about you guys, but my Progeny have been asking some rather... embarrassing questions, and I--
MALKAV: Just tell them that when a Mummy and a Daddy love each other very much--
VENTRUE: Shut up, Malkav. Anyway, they want to know where we come from, why, how, the whole bit. I think it's time we had an answer for them.
[silence]
BRUJAH: Well, what are you asking us for? WE don't fucking know.
SAULOT: LANGUAGE!
BRUJAH: Sorry.
VENTRUE: What about you, Ralph? You seem to have your nose in everything.
NOSFERATU: No, I am ... no longer called "Ralph." From this day forward, you shall call me: "Nosferatu."
[silence]
RAVNOS: I dunno, man. Ralph suits you.
NOSFERATU: No! I REFUSE to be stuck with that name.
VENTRUE: Leave him alone Ravnos.
TOREADOR: Actually, while we're on the subject ...
VENTRUE: What is it now?
TOREADOR: I have taken the pseudonym "Toreador."
[more silence]
HASSAM: You've never even SEEN a bull, let alone fight one, Norman.
TOREADOR: LEAVE ME ALONE !!!
RAVNOS: I was gonna say something about "full of ..." Oh, never mind.
VENTRUE: SHALL we get back to business?
LASOMBRA: I think "Nosferatu" sounds cool actually, Ralph.
NOSFERATU: And it's a lot easier to say when you can't retract your fangs.
VENTRUE: GENTLEMEN!
[silence]
VENTRUE: Okay, any ideas?
TZIMISCE: Uh ...
VENTRUE: Yes, Tzimisce?
TZIMISCE: Yas. Do you think it vaz a disease, perrrhaps?
SAULOT: Nnnnnnno ... I don't think so. I'd know about it by now if it was.
MALKAV: Ooo! Ooo! I've got an idea!
VENTRUE: [groan] What?
MALKAV: Ooo! Ooo! We're ALL ... aliens! Yeah! From the planet... Yuggoth!
BRUJAH: Malkav?
MALKAV: Yeah?
BRUJAH: Drop dead.
[silence]
MALKAV: Ain't it just TOO BAD you don't have Dominate?
BRUJAH: REAL men don't NEED Dominate!
[biff]
[thud]
MALKAV: Owww!
RAVNOS: Okay, I've got it.
VENTRUE: Yes?
RAVNOS: They're not REALLY vampires, they just THINK they are.
VENTRUE: Hmmm ... not bad ... but then the dumb ones will try to prove you wrong by taking a sunbake.
LASOMBRA: SO? Weeds out the stupid ones, less of a population problem, less nosey Progeny asking silly questions.
TOREADOR: Lasombra, you are perverted.
LASOMBRA: Hey, am I my brother's keeper?
TZIMISCE: He has a valid point, frrriend.
TOREADOR: Sickening creatures. hmmph.
[sniggering]
SAULOT: Brother's keeper ... hey! That reminds me! You know those guys who wear the funny tea towels on their heads--
HASSAM: WATCH it, three-eyes.
SAULOT: Sorry. Anyway, they have this old story about this one guy who kills his brother and gets cursed, see ...
SUTEKH: Cursssed, you sssay? Hmmm ... I like it!
NOSFERATU: Yeah, but if YOU say it, no one will believe it.
TREMERE: I know! We did it by magick!
[silence]
BRUJAH: Who the hell are you?
TREMERE: Oh. Tremere, Arrogant Scheming Mage at your service!
SAULOT: Hang on, you're not supposed to be here until A.D. 1314!
TREMERE: So? I'm an Oracle of Time. I'll be when I want.
VENTRUE: A mortal, eh? Hey, Tremere!
TREMERE: Yeah?
VENTRUE: GET OUT.
TREMERE: Sure. [slam] [muffled] Damn. Must learn how to do that.
VENTRUE: Now, we might be onto something with this "curse" business. We haven't heard from Gangrel yet, and we need a female opinion at this juncture. What do you think, Gangrel?
[silence]
VENTRUE: Gangrel?
[more silence]
VENTRUE: Anybody seen Gangrel?
RAVNOS: Errr, actually, we've had a bit of a disagreement ...
MALKAV: Awww, doesn't Mummy wuv you any more?
RAVNOS: Suck off.
MALKAV: DOES she do it doggy style?
[biff]
RAVNOS: Thank you, Brujah.
BRUJAH: No prob, bro.
VENTRUE: Okay, so what gives with this curse thing?
SAULOT: Well, they say that the first two sons of the first man had to give offerings to God. The first brother gave plants and stuff, and the second brother gave animal blood.
ALL: Yeah! All right! Sounds great! Cool!
SAULOT: So the older one -- Cain, I think -- killed Abel, the younger one, and was cursed by God for the very first murder.
HASSAM: Innovative man, this Cain.
SUTEKH: Ssso, we're dessscended from a psssychopathic greengrocccer. How about we're dessscended from the MURDERED one, ssso that we are the CHOSSSEN of God, the INHERITORSSS of DIVINE POWER, the--
MALKAV: You REALLY have a God complex, don't you Sutekh? Tell me about your mother. Did she lock you in a cupboard? Or--
[biff]
BRUJAH: Final warning, kook.
VENTRUE: Sutekh, please, stop standing on your chair.
TREMERE: I like the "cursed by God" thing, actually.
VENTRUE: How did YOU get in here?
TREMERE: Correspondence. Don't you know ANYTHING? Hey, Saulot!
SAULOT: Yeah?
TREMERE: I JUST worked out where I've seen you before. Could I have a word with you outside? It won't take more than five minutes. Promise.
SAULOT: Sure. You seem like a decent enough fellow.
[slam]
LASOMBRA: Wonder what he wants ... anyway ...
TOREADOR: I think I prefer the older brother. He's a charming, regal figure who diligently sacrifices for his Lord, but is consumed by jealousy into a desperate act -- which he regrets later, of course -- but TOO LATE to avoid the harsh judgment of an UNCARING God, and is DOOMED to wander the earth, OUTCAST from his fellow man! Oh, the horror! Oh, the HUMANITY! Oh, the ANGST!
BRUJAH: What's an "angst"?
SUTEKH: Oh, it'sss a kind of a crossss, but with a loopy bit on top. My guysss love 'em.
BRUJAH: Oh. [pause] I don't get it ...
TOREADOR: Philistines.
[scream from outside]
TZIMISCE: Vat the hell vas that?
NOSFERATU: Sounded like Saulot. HEY! YOU GUYS SHUT UP OUT THERE!
[door opens]
TREMERE: Oh, sorry, uhhh ... Saulot says to say that, uhhh, he ... had to leave -- real quick, like ... uhhh, but he was REAL happy about it, and, uhhh, he was glad he caught up with you guys again.
NOSFERATU: Is it me, or does he look kinda pale?
VENTRUE: Who cares? Getting back to this curse thing ...
LASOMBRA: So, are we his direct Progeny, then? 'Cos if so, how come we don't know where he is now?
MALKAV: Errr, he made us, then ran away. Really fast.
RAVNOS: No, no, no, he made some OTHER guys first, and then THEY made US ...
TOREADOR: And he repented of The Horror He Had Unleashed Upon The Earth! And banished himself from the sight of ALL!
MALKAV: AND ran away really fast.
TOREADOR: If you must.
VENTRUE: But how come we're all so different?
TOREADOR: The Curse works in Mysterious Ways ...
NOSFERATU: Yeah! I used to be the most handsome man in the world ...
RAVNOS: Yeah, right.
LASOMBRA: And I had a reflection!
BRUJAH: Can I have been a philosopher?
RAVNOS: And Toreador used to have taste ...
MALKAV: And I used to be insane!
[silence]
VENTRUE: I think we might be pushing our luck here.
SUTEKH: Any BETTER ideasss?
VENTRUE: Well, let's put it to a vote, then. Magick?
TREMERE: Aye.
VENTRUE: That's one.
[silence]
VENTRUE: Okay, aliens from the planet Yuggoth?
MALKAV: Twenty-three.
VENTRUE: Your multiple personalities don't count, Malkav.
MALKAV: Awww ...
VENTRUE: The chosen son of God? ... Sutekh, Lasombra, Tzimisce. Any others?
HASSAM: Aye.
VENTRUE: Okay, that's four. Cursed children of a psychopathic greengrocer? ... That's four, plus myself, five.
[groans]
LASOMBRA: Swinging the vote, you black-balling bureaucrat!
VENTRUE: If you don't like it, go and form your OWN group.
LASOMBRA: Maybe I will.
VENTRUE: Okay, then, I charge all of you to disperse this data to your Progeny, and I'll have MY people send out memos in triplicate to YOUR people before the start of the next fiscal year. Meeting adjourned! [banging noise, general muttering and shuffling] Drinks anyone?
MALKAV: I think Tremere just ate. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahhhh ...
TZIMISCE: Vy did you throw him out ze window, Brujah?
BRUJAH: I dunno, man, just something I had to do ... [sulking] none of you understand me, anyway ...
HASSAM: [whispered] Hey, Tremere!
TREMERE: What?
HASSAM: Saulot -- you did him in, didn't you? You snuffed him. Sucked him dry.
TREMERE: Uhhh ... yeah, I did.
[silence]
HASSAM: What's it like?
Monday, 24 September 2001
So, in Darkening Suns, sylphs have only one aim in life. And that is, to sleep with as many men as they can. *boggle*
Gisella
A small wooden door in the tree trunk opened, and a tiny little sylph was thrown out unceremoniously. The wooden door slammed shut, and from behind it a tiny female voice yelled, 'And stay out, hon!'
Gisella giggled slightly as she picked herself up from the floor, rubbing her back. 'Alright mother, I love you!' she yelled back, still giggling.
She peered around the huge tree branch she landed on, then sat on it almost impetously. A smile lit up her tiny face as she leaned down from her branch. A trade caravan was passing through. Full of fun things to look at, exciting things to buy and trade, stories to be heard, and most of all...men.
'Oh...,' she giggled to herself, while leering at one of the guards who rode with the caravan, 'There goes a fine specimen..a fine specimen indeed.'
Stretching out her pretty wings behind her, Gisella fluffed out her hair, and licked her lips. She stood up on the branch and dived neatly onto the guard as he rode directly below her.
Landing right in the arms of the guard, she looked up with her glorious blue eyes and directed the full force of her smile at him. Of course, the guard was startled, but almost immediately, he was drawn towards the charms of the sylph in his arms.
Gisella snuggled up on his chest and whispered to him, 'Forget the caraven, I know a perfect little waterfall just behind that hill there..You can help me scrub my back.' She wrapped her arms around his neck, and smiled at him again, this time letting her translucent robe fall slightly off her shoulder.
He did not even stop to ponder his luck, without looking back at the caraven, he rode off with Gisella still wrapped around him, already removing parts of his armour.
Gisella giggled again, and crossed her tiny fingers. The guard might be her first, but he definately won't be her last.
Gisella
A small wooden door in the tree trunk opened, and a tiny little sylph was thrown out unceremoniously. The wooden door slammed shut, and from behind it a tiny female voice yelled, 'And stay out, hon!'
Gisella giggled slightly as she picked herself up from the floor, rubbing her back. 'Alright mother, I love you!' she yelled back, still giggling.
She peered around the huge tree branch she landed on, then sat on it almost impetously. A smile lit up her tiny face as she leaned down from her branch. A trade caravan was passing through. Full of fun things to look at, exciting things to buy and trade, stories to be heard, and most of all...men.
'Oh...,' she giggled to herself, while leering at one of the guards who rode with the caravan, 'There goes a fine specimen..a fine specimen indeed.'
Stretching out her pretty wings behind her, Gisella fluffed out her hair, and licked her lips. She stood up on the branch and dived neatly onto the guard as he rode directly below her.
Landing right in the arms of the guard, she looked up with her glorious blue eyes and directed the full force of her smile at him. Of course, the guard was startled, but almost immediately, he was drawn towards the charms of the sylph in his arms.
Gisella snuggled up on his chest and whispered to him, 'Forget the caraven, I know a perfect little waterfall just behind that hill there..You can help me scrub my back.' She wrapped her arms around his neck, and smiled at him again, this time letting her translucent robe fall slightly off her shoulder.
He did not even stop to ponder his luck, without looking back at the caraven, he rode off with Gisella still wrapped around him, already removing parts of his armour.
Gisella giggled again, and crossed her tiny fingers. The guard might be her first, but he definately won't be her last.
Thursday, 20 September 2001
Another song that pleases me.
Life In Mono - Mono
The stranger sang a theme
From someone else's dream
The leaves began to fall
And no one spoke at all
But I can't seem to recall
When you came along
Ingenue
Ingenue
I just don't know what to do
The tree-lined avenue
Begins to fade from view
Drowning past regrets
In tea and cigarettes
But I can't seem to forget
When you came along
Ingenue
Ingenue
Ingenue
Life In Mono - Mono
The stranger sang a theme
From someone else's dream
The leaves began to fall
And no one spoke at all
But I can't seem to recall
When you came along
Ingenue
Ingenue
I just don't know what to do
The tree-lined avenue
Begins to fade from view
Drowning past regrets
In tea and cigarettes
But I can't seem to forget
When you came along
Ingenue
Ingenue
Ingenue
Sunday, 9 September 2001
A song that pleases me. Definately.
Goodnight Moon - Shivaree
There's a nail in the door
And there's glass on the lawn
Tacks on the floor
And the TV is on
And I always sleep with my guns when you're gone
There's a blade by the bed
And a phone in my hand
A dog on the floor
And some cash on the nightstand
When I'm all alone the dreaming stops
And I just can't stand
What should I do I'm just a little baby
What if the lights go out
And maybe and then the wind just starts to moan
Outside the door he followed me home
So goodnight moon
I want the sun
If it's not here soon
I might be done
No it won't be too soon 'til I say goodnight moon
There's a shark in the pool
And a witch in the tree
A crazy old neighbor and he's been watching me
And there's footsteps loud and strong coming down the hall
Something's under the bed
Now it's out in the hedge
There's a big black crow sitting on my window ledge
And I hear something scratching through the wall
What should I do I'm just a little baby
What if the lights go out
And maybe and then the wind just starts to moan
Outside the door he followed me home
So goodnight moon
I want the sun
If it's not here soon
I might be done
No it won't be too soon 'til I say goodnight moon.
Goodnight Moon - Shivaree
There's a nail in the door
And there's glass on the lawn
Tacks on the floor
And the TV is on
And I always sleep with my guns when you're gone
There's a blade by the bed
And a phone in my hand
A dog on the floor
And some cash on the nightstand
When I'm all alone the dreaming stops
And I just can't stand
What should I do I'm just a little baby
What if the lights go out
And maybe and then the wind just starts to moan
Outside the door he followed me home
So goodnight moon
I want the sun
If it's not here soon
I might be done
No it won't be too soon 'til I say goodnight moon
There's a shark in the pool
And a witch in the tree
A crazy old neighbor and he's been watching me
And there's footsteps loud and strong coming down the hall
Something's under the bed
Now it's out in the hedge
There's a big black crow sitting on my window ledge
And I hear something scratching through the wall
What should I do I'm just a little baby
What if the lights go out
And maybe and then the wind just starts to moan
Outside the door he followed me home
So goodnight moon
I want the sun
If it's not here soon
I might be done
No it won't be too soon 'til I say goodnight moon.
Thursday, 23 August 2001
The Cult
Carmelle smiles saying, 'We are an informal gathering of Enlightened ones. Those who know of the Divine Pulse, we seek. Those who seek the Kavhashim, we Guide.
For what use is the Knowledge if it is not shared?
A single pulse is but a solitary beat. A multitude of harmonious beats results in a symphony of ecstatic levels.
Ecstacy The surge of energy, the shift in perception. Even more apparant if induced and shared.
Join us, as a Seeker of the Divine Pulse.
Journey with us, and be an Enlightened One.
Guide those who seek us, as a Mentor to other Seekers.
Lead us all on our path to Ecstacy, as a Cult Leader.
She pauses for a second, tilts her head slightly and continues. 'There it is again... Can you hear it?'
Carmelle smiles saying, 'We are an informal gathering of Enlightened ones. Those who know of the Divine Pulse, we seek. Those who seek the Kavhashim, we Guide.
For what use is the Knowledge if it is not shared?
A single pulse is but a solitary beat. A multitude of harmonious beats results in a symphony of ecstatic levels.
Ecstacy The surge of energy, the shift in perception. Even more apparant if induced and shared.
Join us, as a Seeker of the Divine Pulse.
Journey with us, and be an Enlightened One.
Guide those who seek us, as a Mentor to other Seekers.
Lead us all on our path to Ecstacy, as a Cult Leader.
She pauses for a second, tilts her head slightly and continues. 'There it is again... Can you hear it?'
Focus
'Now you understand the Kavhashim, and felt the Divine Pulse.' she continues while glancing up at Reall.
Taimus lights a stick of incense and waves it slowly in the air, filling the room with a thick, sweet, bluish smoke.
'There are many ways to do this, some use hallucinogenic substances, some imbibe intoxicating liquids.' she says while Reall plants a few lit incence sticks into a pot.
'Some find music relaxing, some indulge in sex, some create art and even appreciation of art is relaxing for some.' she says.
'There are no right or wrong ways.' she says and Taimus leans over and kisses her deeply.
'Feel the Pulse...'
'Attune yourself to the Kavhashim...'
'Time slows down...'
'Your senses widen...'
'Harness the power as it builds...'
'You now know how to induce this power.' she says, smiling.
'Now, perhaps you would like to share this new found knowledge.' they say together.
And then you realize, they have been talking in unison all along.
'Now you understand the Kavhashim, and felt the Divine Pulse.' she continues while glancing up at Reall.
Taimus lights a stick of incense and waves it slowly in the air, filling the room with a thick, sweet, bluish smoke.
'There are many ways to do this, some use hallucinogenic substances, some imbibe intoxicating liquids.' she says while Reall plants a few lit incence sticks into a pot.
'Some find music relaxing, some indulge in sex, some create art and even appreciation of art is relaxing for some.' she says.
'There are no right or wrong ways.' she says and Taimus leans over and kisses her deeply.
'Feel the Pulse...'
'Attune yourself to the Kavhashim...'
'Time slows down...'
'Your senses widen...'
'Harness the power as it builds...'
'You now know how to induce this power.' she says, smiling.
'Now, perhaps you would like to share this new found knowledge.' they say together.
And then you realize, they have been talking in unison all along.
The Highest Blessings
Merry Meet, thus I shall record,
On one occasion the Blessed Sisters were dwelling at the sacred Pagoda of Enlightenment.
When night was far spent, a certain beloved follower of the Sisters came to the presence of the Blessed Sisters and drawing near, asked respectfully and stood at one side and asked,
"Many dieties and men, yearning after blessings,
have pondered on the Kavhashim,
Pray, tell me the Highest Blessing."
In which the Sisters replied in unison, to the beat of the Divine Pulse,
Not to associate with fools,
To associate with the wise,
and honour those who are worthy of honour -
This is the Highest Blessing.
To reside in a suitable locality,
to have dome meritorious actions in the past,
and to set oneself in the right course
This is the Highest Blessing.
Vast learning, perfect handicraft,
a highly trained discipline,
and pleasant speech-
This is the Highest Blessing.
The support of father and mother,
The cherishing of wife and children,
and peaceful occupations,
This is the Highest Blessing.
Liberality, Righteous conduct,
The helping of relatives,
And blameless actions -
This is the Highest Blessing.
Reverance, humility,
Contentment, gratitude,
And opportune hearing of the Kavhashim -
This is the Highest Blessing.
With that, the beloved follower meditated with the Beat in her heart.
Merry Part, thus I shall conclude.
- Giselle - Mentor of the Cult.
Merry Meet, thus I shall record,
On one occasion the Blessed Sisters were dwelling at the sacred Pagoda of Enlightenment.
When night was far spent, a certain beloved follower of the Sisters came to the presence of the Blessed Sisters and drawing near, asked respectfully and stood at one side and asked,
"Many dieties and men, yearning after blessings,
have pondered on the Kavhashim,
Pray, tell me the Highest Blessing."
In which the Sisters replied in unison, to the beat of the Divine Pulse,
Not to associate with fools,
To associate with the wise,
and honour those who are worthy of honour -
This is the Highest Blessing.
To reside in a suitable locality,
to have dome meritorious actions in the past,
and to set oneself in the right course
This is the Highest Blessing.
Vast learning, perfect handicraft,
a highly trained discipline,
and pleasant speech-
This is the Highest Blessing.
The support of father and mother,
The cherishing of wife and children,
and peaceful occupations,
This is the Highest Blessing.
Liberality, Righteous conduct,
The helping of relatives,
And blameless actions -
This is the Highest Blessing.
Reverance, humility,
Contentment, gratitude,
And opportune hearing of the Kavhashim -
This is the Highest Blessing.
With that, the beloved follower meditated with the Beat in her heart.
Merry Part, thus I shall conclude.
- Giselle - Mentor of the Cult.
On being a Treatise on Meditatation
The world is full of black energy; black karma envelopes us. In any place where there are true meditators, the disasters in that place will be lessened.
If many people come together to meditate, their collective strength can dispel these disasters and counteract the plunders and invisibly eradicate this noxious, evil energy and transform it into harmonious and auspicious energy.
But first the Kavhashim must be beating in accordance and in time with the beating of the heart of all meditators.
Everyone should bring forth his or her true heart in reciting the Sisters' names and mantras. For every time you recite the Sisters' names, a ray of light fills the universe, so that the energy of a thousand, thousand worlds will be auspicious and harmonious and the atmosphere of violence, defilement, and disaster will be dispelled and transformed.
May the Kavhashim be with you.
The world is full of black energy; black karma envelopes us. In any place where there are true meditators, the disasters in that place will be lessened.
If many people come together to meditate, their collective strength can dispel these disasters and counteract the plunders and invisibly eradicate this noxious, evil energy and transform it into harmonious and auspicious energy.
But first the Kavhashim must be beating in accordance and in time with the beating of the heart of all meditators.
Everyone should bring forth his or her true heart in reciting the Sisters' names and mantras. For every time you recite the Sisters' names, a ray of light fills the universe, so that the energy of a thousand, thousand worlds will be auspicious and harmonious and the atmosphere of violence, defilement, and disaster will be dispelled and transformed.
May the Kavhashim be with you.
On Reciting the Mantra
The recollection of one's thoughts or the concentration or mindfulness one is able to formulate in one's own mind during one's recitation is of very great improtance. One should single-mindedly perform one's recitation. A proper understanding of this prerequiste is very essential in order to sincerely maintain a proper frame of mind during this recitation of mantra.
May the Sisters smile upon you.
The recollection of one's thoughts or the concentration or mindfulness one is able to formulate in one's own mind during one's recitation is of very great improtance. One should single-mindedly perform one's recitation. A proper understanding of this prerequiste is very essential in order to sincerely maintain a proper frame of mind during this recitation of mantra.
May the Sisters smile upon you.
Homage to the Sisters of Love
The Sisters of Love also known as Taimus and Reall, are also known as the Sisters of Enlightenment Who Dispels Calamities and Lengthens Life. More and more followers are reciting this mantra, seeking the blessings and compassion of the Sisters to help dispel their obstacles, to free them from sufferings, illnesses, and consequently lengthening their lives. Hence with
the Divine Pulse, the Kavhashim, this is the mystic formula for dispelling disease and suffering.
This healing mantra, when fervently recited 7 times, or 49 times, or 108 times, depending on the situation - while in meditating in the cusp of the Divine Pulse, is able to relieve or heal a sick person.
Followers who wish to uphold this mantra should sincerely attempt to recite it everyday 3 times, 7 times or according to one's wisdom.
... To recite it a full five times in one evening is to wipe away your heavy offenses of hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of millions of aeons of suffering. To recite it while in the cusp of the Kavhashim is to multiply its power by a dozen fold ...
- Venerable Master Norin, Beloved of Reall, Cult Leader
A thousand eyes observe,
A thousand ears hear all,
A thousand hands help and support
Living beings everywhere.
We are all Sisters here,
Beating to the Divine Pulse.
- A variation of The Healing Mantra
The Sisters of Love also known as Taimus and Reall, are also known as the Sisters of Enlightenment Who Dispels Calamities and Lengthens Life. More and more followers are reciting this mantra, seeking the blessings and compassion of the Sisters to help dispel their obstacles, to free them from sufferings, illnesses, and consequently lengthening their lives. Hence with
the Divine Pulse, the Kavhashim, this is the mystic formula for dispelling disease and suffering.
This healing mantra, when fervently recited 7 times, or 49 times, or 108 times, depending on the situation - while in meditating in the cusp of the Divine Pulse, is able to relieve or heal a sick person.
Followers who wish to uphold this mantra should sincerely attempt to recite it everyday 3 times, 7 times or according to one's wisdom.
... To recite it a full five times in one evening is to wipe away your heavy offenses of hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of millions of aeons of suffering. To recite it while in the cusp of the Kavhashim is to multiply its power by a dozen fold ...
- Venerable Master Norin, Beloved of Reall, Cult Leader
A thousand eyes observe,
A thousand ears hear all,
A thousand hands help and support
Living beings everywhere.
We are all Sisters here,
Beating to the Divine Pulse.
- A variation of The Healing Mantra
Power
"Remember the feeling love? Of making love." she says, throwing yet another handful of herbs into the brazier as Reall breathes deeply of the sweetish thick smoke.
"The surge of energy, the shift of perception. There are a thousand and one ways to invoke this feeling. To induce and to share." she says.
"Any form of sharing is a sexual experience. Whether or not intercourse comes into play or not." she explains. "After all, any contact is a form of touch. Sex is just the most intimate contact."
"Communions thus occur."
"The Enlightened can focus this passion that comes from communion into a tremendous energy." she says, looking up at Taimus and smiles.
"Perhaps, this is the power of love."
"Remember the feeling love? Of making love." she says, throwing yet another handful of herbs into the brazier as Reall breathes deeply of the sweetish thick smoke.
"The surge of energy, the shift of perception. There are a thousand and one ways to invoke this feeling. To induce and to share." she says.
"Any form of sharing is a sexual experience. Whether or not intercourse comes into play or not." she explains. "After all, any contact is a form of touch. Sex is just the most intimate contact."
"Communions thus occur."
"The Enlightened can focus this passion that comes from communion into a tremendous energy." she says, looking up at Taimus and smiles.
"Perhaps, this is the power of love."
Taimus, Reall
"The world," she says, "is not the first nor the last. Just a moment frozen in time. That's what life is all about, just a succession of frozen moments, an endless 'now'."
"It is confusing," she says, smiling slightly as she glances at her sister, "but it is important to understand this before anything else."
Taimus lights a small brazier and Reall continues softly.
"In the beginning, no one counted time in the way the Unenlightened do," she says, "just in seasons, when crops grew or when winter came. Time was longer then, everything was slower."
"Life was experienced, not observed."
Reall pauses to throw some herbs into the lit brazier in the middle of the room. A thick, sweetish bluish smoke wafts up and Taimus leans forward and inhales deeply.
"When Life is experienced, you feel the pulse." Taimus says, "The Divine Pulse. Kavhashim. The World's heartbeat."
"Listen carefully, listen..." she says as the faint tinkling of the crystal mobile above sways gently.
"Close your eyes, breathe deeply and listen..." she says.
"The Kavhashim has been around since the beginning. Everyone has heard or even felt it." she says and as she closes her eyes. "You can hear it in music, in poetry, in lover's words, in art..."
"Experience love in all forms, and you feel the Kavhashim."
"Our intellect blocks our journey to Enlightenment, to experience the pulse. The ideal state of consciousness sends us past mere intellect." she says as she sips from a tiny rose quartz glass and passes it to Taimus.
"The Kavhashim waits for us beyond this limitations. Focus your consciousness, enhance your sensations and passions beyond limits. Love."
"There are those who are more attuned to the pulse, We are the Enlightened." she says as Reall sprinkles another handful of herbs into the brazier.
"We are called witches, shamans, artists.....lovers."
"The world," she says, "is not the first nor the last. Just a moment frozen in time. That's what life is all about, just a succession of frozen moments, an endless 'now'."
"It is confusing," she says, smiling slightly as she glances at her sister, "but it is important to understand this before anything else."
Taimus lights a small brazier and Reall continues softly.
"In the beginning, no one counted time in the way the Unenlightened do," she says, "just in seasons, when crops grew or when winter came. Time was longer then, everything was slower."
"Life was experienced, not observed."
Reall pauses to throw some herbs into the lit brazier in the middle of the room. A thick, sweetish bluish smoke wafts up and Taimus leans forward and inhales deeply.
"When Life is experienced, you feel the pulse." Taimus says, "The Divine Pulse. Kavhashim. The World's heartbeat."
"Listen carefully, listen..." she says as the faint tinkling of the crystal mobile above sways gently.
"Close your eyes, breathe deeply and listen..." she says.
"The Kavhashim has been around since the beginning. Everyone has heard or even felt it." she says and as she closes her eyes. "You can hear it in music, in poetry, in lover's words, in art..."
"Experience love in all forms, and you feel the Kavhashim."
"Our intellect blocks our journey to Enlightenment, to experience the pulse. The ideal state of consciousness sends us past mere intellect." she says as she sips from a tiny rose quartz glass and passes it to Taimus.
"The Kavhashim waits for us beyond this limitations. Focus your consciousness, enhance your sensations and passions beyond limits. Love."
"There are those who are more attuned to the pulse, We are the Enlightened." she says as Reall sprinkles another handful of herbs into the brazier.
"We are called witches, shamans, artists.....lovers."
Sunday, 29 July 2001
She stood proudly in the Light.
Pure white wings stretch out behind her, her platinum hair curled around her shoulders. Snowy robes cover her body, her feet bare. She does not carry a weapon, and she does not wear a single piece of armour.
She stood proudly in the Light.
She is the Angel of Daos, resplendent in His Benediction. She knows no purpose, only purpose is to Defend the Light, to Protect the Light. Only purpose is to spread the Light, to expose all that is Dark. She does not remember yesterday. She does not care of tomorrow. To her, today is an endless ray of Light.
She stood proudly in the Light.
Another stands in her way of the Light. For a fleeting moment, Darkness befell her. He does not move from the Light, nor does he look like he will. He has stolen the Light from her. He has taken what should be rightfully hers, what she exists for. The Light. Such arrogance, he must be punished.
He stood proudly in the Light.
They fought for a century and a half, but he would not be defeated. She is the Angel of Daos, but then, so was he.Mountains moved, seas displaced. She was the beloved of Daos and was never reproached. He was the beloved of Daos and was protected.
He stood proudly in the Light.
Jealousy clouded her Light, and they fought for another century. Till at last, pure white wings were torn, platinum hair was matted. Snowy robes were bloody, feet were calloused. Weapons clenched in hand, she slumped on the floor and sobbed for half a century.
He stood proudly in the Light.
Such arrogance, he must be punished! She might not best him in battle, but she will punish him with temptation.
Bright red wings stretch out behind her, her scarlet hair curled around her shoulders. Crimson robes cover her body, her feet bare. She does not carry a weapon, and she does not wear a single piece of armour.
A dense fog enveloped him, obscuring the Light, her voice whispered in his ear, 'Listen to me : The one you seek also seeks you.'
He did not move, nor did he flinch. He was strong in the Light. But she was now the Temptress, the Siren. She wrapped her body around his, raised her flawless face to his, and she kissed him.
He stood proudly in the Light.
But she would not be stopped. Dropping her crimson robe, she wrapped her body around his, raised her flawless face to his, and she kissed him.
His eyes flashed for a second, she could have missed it. But in Darkness, she did not. Smiling, she whispered in his ear, 'Walk with me, for I know where you long to go.' She took his hand, he did not resist.
Away from the Light, they made love. She gave him her body, and with it, her soul. He took her soul, and in return he gave his love. In the morning, they awoke to Daos' summons of sunlight.
Such arrogance, they must be punished. She had sought to tempt him into Darkness, but she did not realise she must first be in Darkness to lure him there. Falling into the trappings of mortality, they fell in love. They must be punished.
Cast down to the mortal world, they fell together, still entwined in each other's embrace, never to bask in the glory of the Light again.
Ebony black wings stretch out behind her, her midnight black hair curled around her shoulders. She carries unholy weapons, and she is clad in pitch black armour.
They stood proudly in the Dark.
Pure white wings stretch out behind her, her platinum hair curled around her shoulders. Snowy robes cover her body, her feet bare. She does not carry a weapon, and she does not wear a single piece of armour.
She stood proudly in the Light.
She is the Angel of Daos, resplendent in His Benediction. She knows no purpose, only purpose is to Defend the Light, to Protect the Light. Only purpose is to spread the Light, to expose all that is Dark. She does not remember yesterday. She does not care of tomorrow. To her, today is an endless ray of Light.
She stood proudly in the Light.
Another stands in her way of the Light. For a fleeting moment, Darkness befell her. He does not move from the Light, nor does he look like he will. He has stolen the Light from her. He has taken what should be rightfully hers, what she exists for. The Light. Such arrogance, he must be punished.
He stood proudly in the Light.
They fought for a century and a half, but he would not be defeated. She is the Angel of Daos, but then, so was he.Mountains moved, seas displaced. She was the beloved of Daos and was never reproached. He was the beloved of Daos and was protected.
He stood proudly in the Light.
Jealousy clouded her Light, and they fought for another century. Till at last, pure white wings were torn, platinum hair was matted. Snowy robes were bloody, feet were calloused. Weapons clenched in hand, she slumped on the floor and sobbed for half a century.
He stood proudly in the Light.
Such arrogance, he must be punished! She might not best him in battle, but she will punish him with temptation.
Bright red wings stretch out behind her, her scarlet hair curled around her shoulders. Crimson robes cover her body, her feet bare. She does not carry a weapon, and she does not wear a single piece of armour.
A dense fog enveloped him, obscuring the Light, her voice whispered in his ear, 'Listen to me : The one you seek also seeks you.'
He did not move, nor did he flinch. He was strong in the Light. But she was now the Temptress, the Siren. She wrapped her body around his, raised her flawless face to his, and she kissed him.
He stood proudly in the Light.
But she would not be stopped. Dropping her crimson robe, she wrapped her body around his, raised her flawless face to his, and she kissed him.
His eyes flashed for a second, she could have missed it. But in Darkness, she did not. Smiling, she whispered in his ear, 'Walk with me, for I know where you long to go.' She took his hand, he did not resist.
Away from the Light, they made love. She gave him her body, and with it, her soul. He took her soul, and in return he gave his love. In the morning, they awoke to Daos' summons of sunlight.
Such arrogance, they must be punished. She had sought to tempt him into Darkness, but she did not realise she must first be in Darkness to lure him there. Falling into the trappings of mortality, they fell in love. They must be punished.
Cast down to the mortal world, they fell together, still entwined in each other's embrace, never to bask in the glory of the Light again.
Ebony black wings stretch out behind her, her midnight black hair curled around her shoulders. She carries unholy weapons, and she is clad in pitch black armour.
They stood proudly in the Dark.
Monday, 23 July 2001
A thousand years ago, a Japanese lady-in-waiting kept a journal. Incredibly, it's still with us. It's called The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, and in it she describes not only life in a tenth-century Japanese court, but also her personal thoughts and attitudes, many of which, remarkably, still ring true these many centuries later. While large chunks of the book detail goings-on in the court, other parts are composed of fascinating lists: Things that Give an Unclean Feeling, Adorable Things, Presumptuous Things, People Who Seem to Suffer, and so on.
Now its time for our Pillow Book.
Now its time for our Pillow Book.
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