R.S.V.P.
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Slimeworld & Galaxy Magazine -- All rights reserved -- |
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Chapter XLVII
by General (Uncle Claude) Xxaxx
& General (E.J. Gold) Nunan PFC 1st Class Ret.
“What if some morning you woke up and the rest of the world seemed to be in a much better mood than the day previous? Some people would assume that everybody was feeling good because of mutually experienced events such as good weather or fair economic predictions. Others may assume that on the previous day, there was the same relative number of happy people, but through a condition within themselves, they were more sensitive and observant of the happy people this particular day. Still others may assume that a condition within themselves had changed in the night and they were influencing those they came into contact with to be generally more happy. Which of these is most likely to be true?”
“Well, it would seem that all three would contribute to one degree or another.”
“Exactly, because they are influencing each to the other. It is not possible without ambiguity to sort out the what is what...unless one has a known standard. What if you don’t notice or remember whether or not you were in a good mood yesterday? What if you don’t have any idea, in general or specific, what your effect is upon others? There needs to be some ground zero, some known in which to measure the world.”
Insomuch as it was Woo’s turn in the conversational Ping-Pong, she delivered the obvious next line, “Sam, you know as well as I do that nothing can satisfy this.”
“Yes, and nothing does the job quite well, I do believe,” thus, cracking them both up to the point of rolling upon the floor.
“Now that we have reestablished ‘nothing’ to its proper role, perhaps we should address the question of whether it was, in fact, my bioelectric field that was altered or that of the universe.”
“Woo, what was the instruction as given to you?”
“It was near as I can recall: ‘it would become important to ascertain exactly whether my field changed or the world field had undergone the modification.’”
“Was this given to you in human speech or dragon?”
“Dragon, of course. What are you driving at?”
“What would the transliteration from dragon to English of the actual statement be?”
“It would be something like ‘when then is now give value to experience certainty fill out and have precision weighing field of my as opposed to field of the world only one of which would be having changeable nature.’”
“Is it not true that the dragons love puns and double entendre? Is it not also true that dragons love to leave the truth out in the open and watch others stumble about missing it like drunks looking about madly for a hat that is already on their head?”
“In that you must be referring to a game they play which translated into English would be something like Perloined Truth. The object being to leave the truth laying about in a totally obvious situation with such window dressing as needed to distract the seeker from finding the pearl. The more obvious the truth, and the less window dressing used to cloud the issue, the greater the quotient of purloined, and the higher the score.”
“Yes, and double yes. Now, in consideration of those two points, let’s assume that you were told the exact truth by the dragons — in the clear, without any occlusion. They simply relied on your natural habit to translate the statements into your native English using the normal and proper transfigurations.”
“So what you are hinting at is that they told me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
“Yes, except you translated into English and extracted what you were left to hear. Consider the same sentences and word phrases in a different route: ‘when then is now give value to experience certainty fill out and have precision weighing field of my as opposed to field of the world only one of which would be having changeable nature.’ Let’s take this from both ends as dragons read. Not left to right or right to left but both ends toward the middle.”
“’When then is now’ can be taken as a mathematical expression indicating the condition ‘when all members of the class then are equal to the single member class known as now with the single member called now.’”
“Right, and ‘only one of which would be having changeable nature’ can be taken as the forced assumption that only one, but either of the two preceding items (in this case field of my and field of world) can be changeable, i.e. hold it to be true that either the field of my is changeable or the field of world is changeable — not both.”
“In that case, ‘give value to experience certainty’ can be read as: ‘to have the experience of certainty, give value’, or in other words, you have to pay. But pay with what? Maybe you are told in the next section, ‘fill out and have precision weighing field of my as opposed to field of the world.’ As in, make the effort necessary to expand your attention into the whole of your morphology. Fill yourself and have ‘precision’, i.e. accurate vigilant attention to the process of weighing field of my as opposed to field of the world.”
“Sure, ‘field of my’ can be translated as ‘my field’ or it can be left as the field-of-my, the morphological multi-dimensional area that is me. Weigh this field by having it juxtiposed to the field that is the world on opposite pans of a great balance scale. Hold the two as opposite ends of a great scale, seesawing up and down coming into balance. Translated in this way rather than a warning it becomes an instruction.”
With this Woo looked up, pausing deep in thought. Her vision naturally diffused — a habit developed through years of training with the dragons. Diffused vision, not blurred or out of focus — every element of the visual-field carrying the same relative importance, equally in her wide-angle view. She could see the left-hand corner of Sam Fauxley’s apartment with the same sharp focus as the right-hand corner, and all the objects inbetween — the pseudo-plants sitting on the end-tables, the door to the hallway, and the full length mirror just to the right of the door. Even her reflection in the mirror was focused and assembled into the full field of vision, an equal partner in the panorama of diffused vision. Woo’s attention (momentarily caught by her reflection in the mirror) refocused her vision selecting the mirror and her reflection as more significant than other elements of the visual field. Woo studied her reflection. The image that stared back at her was no longer young, but certainly not too old — not for an egghead. If they don’t disappear in the middle of the night, an egghead can live eighty or ninety years without difficulty. It wasn’t age to which one could ascribe the haggard weary look. Where did the bone chilling weariness and ache of ennui come from? Waving that aside with a sigh of acknowledgment, Woo turned to Sam, “Given the dragons almost perverse sense of humor, I think you may have something there.”
“Thank you Woo, I do believe this is the direction to look should you wish to unravel that mysterious dream of yours. Woo, we just solved a two decade old mystery your ‘indicators’ should have ascended — at least one point. Instead, you look horrible.”
“Sam, I’m tired. I’m weary to the bone of holding it all back.”
“Holding what back?”
“Judging by the weight of it, I’d say the whole of the universe. That really isn’t the issue. It’s me that I’ve been holding back. It’s like I am living within a small hole in the sands of an enormous desert made by pushing back Creation. And as soon as I stop pushing the sands, whatever I am will come crashing in destroying me in the process.”
“So?”
“So? What do you mean so? I tell you that I’m weary to the bone of trying to hold back the whole of the universe and all you have to say for yourself is so?”
“I didn’t have that to say for myself. If I had said something for myself, I may have commiserated with your sad tale of woe-is-me. I learned long ago, before taking on the leadership of IGADS, that putting myself aside and working on the behalf of something higher may not reduce my suffering, but at least the pain has lost its sting.”
“And, working to help save the planet isn’t working for something higher?”
“Apparently not. Leastwise, not the way you’re playing it.”
“And by whose standard?”
“By yours, of course. You’re the one judging yourself, not me. I don’t have any complaint with your character and its role in the game. I’m not the one inside looking out of wearied eyes at a face haggard by ennui. I think you’re doing great. You are doing an incredible job and should be commendated with the highest possible appreciation for what you are doing. If you hadn’t taken the task in hand, the planetary cooling would have continued unabated and we would all be facing certain death as millimeter thick scum on the surface of the planet. Does that help? Does that in any way effect your inner state?”
“No, not really.”
“I would have been disappointed if it had. I don’t consider you the type to be searching for outside kudos. That’s why when you tell me that poor little ol’ you is feeling all put upon and tired, I say to you, ‘So?’, meaning tell me more. Where are you going with this line of thought? In other words, the ball’s still on your side of the court.”
“Just at this moment, I’m wondering if, perhaps, you may not have hit upon the answer after all.”
“What are you driving at?”
“Sam, as you were saying, I should fill out the field-of-my, that which I consider to be me. Then after I’ve filled my morphological self to the limit, I should sense the ebb and flow as that field is pressed upon by the rest of the universe. I’ve been fighting the waves at the beach, afraid that if I let a wave hit the shore, it may overwhelm the land covering it in water. So I’ve been trying to push back the sea to protect the land from the waves.”
“Then, if I’m hearing you correctly, the appropriate response to this situation would be to relax, provided that one is also maintaining a constant sense of presence and vigilant attention to one’s morphology of course.”
“Hey, Sam, check this out. If there is only me and this universe that I’m so concerned about being engulfed by, then the boundary between me and the universe is constant and infinite — or, at least, pretty damn big.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This is already starting to be more fun,” Woo exclaimed with delight, her face visually brightening. Continuing on, “Well, it goes like this. If it is only me and the universe as I fear, then the boundary between me and the universe is the only boundary put upon the universe.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. Even though I feel like Saint Costello getting change back from Saint Abbott.”
“You know darn well that money has been illegal since the early twenty-first century. And, in any case, because the boundary between me and the universe is the only boundary, there is no usable external standard in which to measure a relative increase or decrease in the boundary size. Consequently the boundary is constant and equal to one when measured in units of standard boundary.”
Poking Woo in the ribs, Sam interrupted her exposition, “It’s nice to see you feeling better. But, judging by the direction of this conversation, your current happiness is most likely the sudden glee of insanity.”
“Never you mind, check out this part about the boundary being really, really big. Since the boundary between me and the universe is the only boundary on the universe and the universe is really, really big, it must be held by an equally humongous boundary. Hence the boundary around me must be pretty darn big as well. So why should I concern myself over the piddling ebb and flow of a boundary border war?”
“That’s very nice, Woo. Don’t you have a planet to save, or something to that effect?”
“Oh, your kind is all alike. Just when I find something really interesting to go on about, you want me to go off and save the world.”
“Don’t you mean go on and on about?”
Heading for the door, Woo spoke over her shoulder to Sam, “Okay, I’ll be getting on about my business. Thanks for the tea and refreshments, Sam. Have fun working with Stan Lee to save the world.”
“Wait a minute, Proffy. We haven’t finished our business here yet.”
“And what pray-tell can that be?”
“Why getting an answer to your original question. Just because we have used the question as a space ship to travel around the galaxy a few times doesn’t dismiss it as a good question.”
Woo turned from the door for a second time. The visage that stood before her startled gaze was proud and tall. Sam Fauxley, birth name, Samantha Foley, CMO of IGADS, stood before Woo, naked and tattooed from ankle to neck with a labyrinth of designs. Samantha Foley was one of the Troika of Dreamwalkers. Woo knew of rumors concerning the possible existence of a Troika. But seeing Samantha standing before her was the first evidence Woo had that the Troika was anything more than wishful thinking. This then must be the one they call Soma Ankh. She would be the one that contributes life to the dream. The others would be Wilma and Shirley. Wilma being the mother of will — the force of movement in the dream. And Shirley being Sureity — the form of movement in the dream, alacrity and grace being her nicknames. Every student hears at one time or another hushed late night stories of the Troika — a kind of triumvirate; only this triumvirate was not composed of men, it was composed of servants rather than holders of power.
Studying Samantha’s body, Woo’s first impression was her strength of presence, the second impression was expressed, albeit, not too eloquently by Woo’s sudden exclamation, “Hey, aren’t those tattoos crawling!”
“You’re telling me. How would you like it?”
Hearing Samantha’s familiar voice and ease of answer put Woo at ease, which was good. “So you are one of the Troika?” Woo cleverly rejoined.
“I’m glad to see that your hanging jaw hasn’t effected your ability to find the obvious.”
“Sorry about staring. Your skin is so, so . . . alive.”
“Yes, that it is. It is also seductive and hypnotic. Remove your clothes and step over here. Don’t concern yourself about your ‘sekrit’. I’ve known for a long time that you were only voguing as a man. A little on the butch side, I might add. But I suppose I would be, too, if I had to pass through such a male-dominated forum as the Chinese University system. Come closer and give me your hand.”
Making quick work of undressing, Woo stepped out of her clothes. Litterly. Using a small piece of dragon magic, Woo stepped through her clothes and let them drop to the floor. Nothing that anyone able to walk through walls couldn’t do. It was a fun piece of theater, and Woo wanted Samantha to know that she wasn’t dealing with an etheric virgin.
“I’m suitably impressed, Woo.” Samantha complimented in much the same way that another billiard player would compliment a well done three cushion shot, not so much at the magic as the style of execution. “Nice bit having the clothes fold themselves neatly as they fell to the floor. Now, give me your hands, we have much to do.”
Woo reached out toward Samantha, glad for the moment that she was only asked to grasp her hands. She wasn’t so sure that she wanted to touch the crawling flesh that extended from wrist and ankle to neck. As Woo reached toward Samantha’s hand, blue light jumped from her fingertips to Woo’s. As the crackle of five minature lightening bolts reverberated, the room slid away revealing a wide expanse of emptiness — no longer were they standing naked in Samantha’s apartment.
With a movement of her hip, Samantha did something in the dreamscape, shifting the emptiness into form. Pausing a moment to let it express itself, Woo saw a range of mountains on the horizon. Samantha let her hair down, forming a narrow suspension bridge extending to a mountain pass. This they walked for an age or two. As they walked, Samantha sang a song — devoid of meter with nothing so common as lyrics — even so song she sang. The interleave of vocal and subvocal harmonies reached deep within Woo, striking cords that few have touched — the thrum of resonant subharmony penetrating into her electrical self. By the time they reached the pass, there was no resistance, there were no protected sekrits. It was as if Samantha and Woo had been lovers for millennia. Nothing lay unexplored: nothing judged or hidden. They shared the ease of ancient lovers. Half formed thoughts were completed dialogues. The slightest glance, volumes of expression. Where two had walked, one stood.
“When we step beyond this pass, we will be in dreamside of the IGAD headquarters. It is here that I wish to show you something. You now know me and you know my heart. Will you cross this barrier without reservation?”
“Yes, I will, to see that which you have to show. I will to come with you that far, and more.”
With these words spoken a carpet of blackness spread before them, a plain of emptiness as far as the eye could see — two additional forms were there, Wilma on the left and Shirley on the right. Before Woo knew what was happening, or a mental picture evolve to do something about it, Wilma reached around in front of Woo and cupped her hand on Woo’s naked chest, centered over her solar plexus. Shirley placed her hand on Woo’s back, cupped opposite to Wilma’s hand. Woo felt no strangeness; there was no rising warmth or resonant response to their touch. Within was only chilling stillness in that which Woo would have called her body. Black lightning shot from the hand of Wilma through Woo into the hand of Shirley. No light, no shock, no sound of thunder, only the sudden release of built up charge. Woo was released from herself, free and without form, floating above the carpet of empty. Woo spread herself across its full expanse. Looking into the carpet, Woo could see sparkles of light dancing within its fabric, clustered about the western rim.
A voice spoke to her from deep within, “The lights you see, we have followed for many years. We have not yet entered the time in which they are. That is to come soon. Our dreamwalking has shown us that one was coming that would have the key of emptiness. We believe you are that one. We have looked at this with mixed emotion. As the Troika, we have pulled the chariot since, before the beginning. We can not see much further into the fabric of the dreamweave. We can only go where we already are. Past tonight the weave becomes dark and dense to our vision. The future is occluded to our sight. We know that you spell the end of our journey. We don’t know whether it is in completion of our task or expulsion from the garden. We don’t ask you for anything; we only wish for you to see within the carriage we pull, so that when the time comes, you may know what could be sacrificed by our expulsion.
Looking behind, Woo saw a guilded carriage and three immense horses — white and proud — standing at the tine. Making the intention to see within the carriage, Woo was there — no distance, no time. Looking in, Woo was glad that she — her heart — had been wrapped in black ice, by lightening of will and sureity. For if not, it would have been broken. Within the carriage was the child of all children, the blessing of all births. Soft, blue and vibrant. Small, fragile and to be protected was the presence of a child that was no child. An intelligence older than the universe and wider than time lay helpless and gracious, waiting for the time when the Troika would deliver its precious cargo to its rightful destiny. If there was anything that Woo could do to help bring about this delivery, it was done. There was no end to which she wouldn’t gladly take herself for such a being. In a moment of weakness, Woo’s will faltered and her heart was broken. Now she would live ever after with this black egg nestled within her solar plexis reminding her of a promise that couldn’t be broken.
Stepping back from the carriage, Woo was standing in the living-room at Samantha’s, just after the moment when she first started to reach for Sam’s hand. The smell of ozone hung like incense in the air. Turning to Samantha, Woo felt small and naked.
Seeing her thus, Samantha reached to her and touched Woo lightly on the forehead, “You are not the one to be feared. Go in peace. I will help Stan Lee, of this you can be assured. And when the time comes, I am sure you will do that which your heart dictates, of this I can be assured.”
Woo put her clothes on in silence, no magical tricks, no demonstration of her station. Humiltiy was the proper response in the face of such dedication and will as the Troika. As she stepped through the door, Woo wondered what would have happened if she had not passed this test, for surely it was a test. How will she be able to climb back into the game she was playing — it seems so small.
Turning to Samantha, Woo asked, “How do you go on with your life after...after . . . that?”
“Don’t worry, little one, eventually all that has been revealed will be hidden.”
Woo needn’t have worry about that. As she stepped through the door a curtain of forgetfulness was lain across her memory — a welcome relief from the vision. It’s just too hard to act in the local and specific when the general is so pressing.
This story is published to be read. Include html reference to this stories to your hearts content. But if you wish to include this story in any form of publication you must first obtain our express permission in writing.
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R.S.V.P.
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Slimeworld & Galaxy Magazine -- All rights reserved -- |
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