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MYRRH: First in the Ceremonies of the Horsemen
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Hebephrenica/ It's Time You Knew
by:  Ken Egbert (aka K. Griffiths), One More Haggard Drowned Man
e-mail:  omhdm@earthlink.net
web:  http://www.warfampestdeath.net
twitter:  http://www.twitter.com/WarFamPestDeath
MYRRH is now available on www.amazon.com as a Kindle book, and from Barnes and Noble as a Nook. --K.G.
October 23, 2014

The Human Game, pt. 289: A Basement Tape

The guest sat in Interview Room 11 in the bowels of Vauxhall Cross. A battered tape recorder stood guard, bolted to the wall. He was no longer certain of the space of time they’d made him wait. At last a familiar face entered, A4 folder in hand. To my brothers and me, not him.
“You’ve been seriously inconvenienced,” Propinq offered.
“I wasn’t going to say,” replied O’Carlan. “You have all but ended my career by allowing Dr. Bernheim to lead you around by the nose—“
“Oh, it could have been you who were trying to lead our physicist, Mr. O’Carlan.”
“Works for you? Was I such an ass to walk into a rat trap that shallow?”
“No, but she did have the intelligence to turn you over. We are very anxious to hear your explanation. I have it from our lords and ladies that your Agency has a willing bankroller. A client. One with the deepest pockets. That’s only one question of many. Wait a moment.” He accessed the recorder after making certain there was a fresh cassette waiting. “One day we’ll get these updated… this is Matthias Propinq, Field Services section chief, initial interview with Patrick Wilson O’Carlan, employee of the U.S. Department of State. Detained November 26 in Geneva, Switzerland. Primary case file reference, ‘Precambrian Era’; secondary, ‘Silent Running.’
State your name, sir.”

“Oh, don’t be shy. We started off so well. Before the tape rolled.”

“Had that something to do with it?”

“We do not employ American methods here but those we do deign to use are, I have been told by those who’ve experienced them, at best very unpleasant.”
“I will only talk to Agent Leila Fatima Al-Adil.”
“…You don’t get to decide to whom you unburden your trousers, O’Carlan. So to speak. Miss Al-Adil is a name slightly known to me, she is a junior clerk in another section. She hasn’t got two years in, and she is certainly not fully trained in interview techniques.”
“I will only talk to Agent Leila Fatima Al-Adil.”
“While from what I hear, she gave you quite the shellacking in Prague. Until you got out by the skin of.”
“It isn’t her prowess as a field agent trainee that makes me want to speak to her. She will understand what I have to say. You won’t.”
”Only Americans understand other Americans, is that it?”
“No.”
“So I needn’t get an interpreter in here.”
“My information is time-sensitive.”
“So’s everybody’s. Given your calendar age, sir, it would be even more so. Or is there another reason for that?”
“Her insults will also be more pointed.”
“Have a history, do you?”
“No more. Get me Al-Adil.”
“All right, then.” Propinq stood and addressed the tape player again. “Interview interrupted, same date. To be continued.” He flipped off the RECORD switch, then turned back to O’Carlan. “Since your sovereign land once enjoyed what was referred to in the very dim past as a ‘special relationship’ with mine, I will pass on your request. If the answer be ‘no,’ however, and one is pleased to think it will be a quick negative, I will return shortly, expecting far more cooperation. And I will have it.”
“You know what kind of hell HM Government will be in when it’s found where I am.”
At the door, hand on the knob, Propinq replied without turning back: “You shouldn’t assume that you will see America again, Mr. O’Carlan. There is rendition and there is extraordinary rendition.”
“No wonder you had Interpol pick me up. I doubt they’ll do you any favors again soon when we're done with them.”
“The USA wrote the textbook we used today when the World Trade Center was carbombed in ’93.”
“Is this what we get for sharing our wisdom with our allies?”
“Really, Mr. O’Carlan. When were we last Allies, again?”
“I’m not saying one more word. Get me Al-Adil. Now.”
Propinq, never having turned to look at the man, flipped the doorknob. “I’m sure that my leaving the room now is to be considered a moral victory for yourself, even a partial assent on my part to your, ah, order that I produce Miss Al-Adil. Best you not take that meaning. Your request is a formality. The remainder of our exchange will be far less so.” Propinq opened the door and left the room.

Copyright 2010 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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October 20, 2014

The Human Game, pt. 288: ...To be a Vassal?

“So, Horsemen. Will you trust in Him? Without grudge or reservation?”
Another smash against the door, as Gabriel's gown rustled.
-We woke in this universe as we were/ not an atom different/ we were to have been our old mindless selves/ what of that? --D.
"Certainly sounds like a grudge. You would have been of no use to Him in that form. He uses his creations. He uses us. He always has done. But He will keep His bargain."
-This time, yeah? --W.
"This time."
-And this 'freedom' of which you speak... we may use it to lobotomize ourselves? --P.
"If you like."
-…Very well. As Michael put it, this one time. –P.
“You have all but sworn that you will not abandon your friend. It is now time to do so.”
“She will do the same for you. She has done.”
-Our what, then? –P.
-Petey! –F.
-All right, Francis! I heard her thinking it last night. I admit i! Then so she is. I proclaim it. If, angels? –P.
“If?”
-Then I swear… if--D.
-Yes. If. –F.
-…Aright. If. –W.
"Explain yourselves."
-You will hold that door shut until the window reopens. –P.
“I will make every effort.”
We shall.”
Beyond the door, it was as if they’d gone and hired a rhinoceros. Whatever hit it next, it caused cracks in the wall around the keening metal frame. While in the room, the human virus in us sang no more; it began to scream.
-Petey-- --F.
I kept my eyes on Gabriel and Michael, now both with their hands on the portal.
-If you expect us to swear, you shall do the same. –P.
“What else exactly shall we swear to?”
-You will see to it that we get our payment. You will inveigh for us with the Highest! You will not allow us to be cheated! –P.
-Petey, the CW still isn’t open! –F.
I did not look back again. Why bother….
-For this is so far outside us and what we do that I can barely comprehend it. Preserve...? –P.
“All things change, Horsemen. The generations, the seasons…”
“Even the universes.”
-I have read Ecclesiastes, thank you, and I also know that men who defend a woman’s honor can have entire buildings fall upon them. SWEAR, THEN! NOW! Swear also that you will watch over her when we are gone! –P.
“Why? Where are you going?”
-I ask for my brother's sake. SWEAR! --P.
“No more, Michael. We do, Pestilence.”
“We swear, then! Go!
-PETEY! –W.
Another concussion from outside jarred the angels’ shoulders. We’d none of us escape death in the reeds if I held us all up many seconds longer— so yes, I turned and there it was, just as before, the browning field and a slowly rising ecru-colored Aeroflot Tupolev TU-118 jet making for the east. Leah's worried voice filled our ears.
"Peter, William, Francis, David, can you read? Respond, please?"
-Done. We are in agreement. GO, WILLIAM! –P.
Not that he’d waited for my assent… although Gabriel could not resist one last jab…
“May Allah speed you, then…”
As before, sine comentaris, but Francis and David took only seconds more to follow our brother… though I decided not to be outdone.
-Michael! Give my Mary’s statue atop St. Severin my best! –P.
And even I was gone. At which point…
-TAKE IT OUT! DR. SCHNEiDER! DROP THE BEAM/ SPEED! –D.
As we flew from the CW on the far side, one last set of hooves striking the earth, I saw for half a moment the angels remaining on post while the wall began to crumble.
“I can hear you!” called the chief engineer some yards distant, hard at his laptop. “We got ‘em!”
The electrical room door all but detonated inward while Gabriel and Michael vanshed and the CW swept itself from the air. With all clear about us, we turned to our intrepid group of mechanics and met their stunned silence head on. Our Fifth Horsewoman stood at near-attention, hand nearly covering her mouth.
“…”
We’d completely forgotten! Wrapped in shimmering multicolored diamonds from our heads to our horses’ hooves, we lit and grew dim, tides of pinpoint light washing in and out upon and throughout us all.

Copyright 2010 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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October 17, 2014

The Human Game, pt. 287: Free...

-I think that I want to. –F.
“Help her, in other words?”
-Frank-- --W.
“What are your brothers’ opinions?”
-Slow down, all right? So we’re… what now? –W.
“War, Death: when you and Famine stood astride the air, very early on Monday morning, poised above Europe to fall upon it, you didn’t. Why?”
-This is not a question to which you are owed a reply –D.
"He who sent us is, however."
-Why might He care? While what has this to do with our Fifth Horsewoman? –P.
“No matter. We already know.”
“While kindly don’t call her that before us. If she had any idea…”
-Why, Michael, I’d almost forgotten you were here. –P.
-Talk, then/ you sure can do that/ but we aren’t dying in these reeds either –D.
-And one doubts that you will tell her anyway, Gabriel… that might be one Annunciation too many --P.
“There are parallels…”
-We don’t know why we didn’t fall upon the world, early Monday morning. How’s that? – F.
-Your minds were elsewhere, brothers. That’s all. Don’t read too much into it. As these attempt to do. No one saw ahead of us and found that we'd of a sudden no use for random harvesting any longer. Correct, angels? --P.
"And in so doing, did He throw all of creation to a pack of toothless wolves?"
-Don't you dare mock us! Brothers, you saw me trying to help Dr. Bernheim and you were waiting to see how she might do against O’Carlan. That is all it was. –P.
“Part of the explanation, perhaps. I only ask that you consider it. Now, about Leah herself…”
-Somebody’s PO’d about her turnin’ the old guy in. O’Carlan. Gotta be it. –W.
“Pestilence looked in the right place and found that very evidence. There also are questions about her association with you four. Some who ask them are very insistent.”
-Yer sayin’ we put her in harm’s way. –W.
“Place no words in my mouth, War. I only ask if you will abandon the woman when she has never abandoned you? Death, in your mind’s eye do you still see her crisping on a spit above a great fire?”
-…No –D.
-No? How come? --W.
"What of you, War?"
-Huh. Ain't really crossed my mind. --W.
“We don’t wish to humiliate you…”
-Oh, we’re doing a bang-up job of that/ ourselves, aren’t we; Frank, you had to sit in her living room when she was 13 and listen to practice her violin/ you had to do that! –D.
I pointed to the place where the companionway was.
-Besides… that is not our universe. --P.
“Once, you wouldn’t have thought twice.”
At least he didn’t say ‘it is now’…
"The Horseman prepares to disown what he is incapable of eradicating..."
-Dave, I had my eyes shut while she played. She was so good even then, I may as well have been blind. In fact, while I listened to her in the hall at Cambridge, I all but went blind again. –F.
-That, Michael, is exactly what you would have said of us in this multiverse. Had you had the wit. --P.
-So you aren’t going to/ chase her through a trillion frames of reference, Francis/ like some people we know –D.
-Ahem… –P.
-Hard to do that when you can’t see, Dave… --F.
-I just… –D.
-We’ve always terminated our Fifth Horsemen or Horsewomen – don’t give me that look, Gabriel -- or let others do it for us. You understand, Francis. –P.
Now my brother nodded to where 'the companionway' wasn't.
-I don't know that I do. We didn’t get to her in time, before. Where she and her family were hiding. Shubby's men made it first. -F.
-Shubby Shuba is dead/ I killed him --D.
-That was the last world. We were going to evacuate her and her family! --F.
“While there are others worse now than he, then."
-We were angels at the time, Mikey/ we were following orders! --D.
-Dave... haven't we been doing that here? --F.
"You, Pestilence, hid in the wall in the American Consulate while they spoke of Leah as if she were a piece of meat. I ask again, will you allow them to take her? Are these the same Horsemen who opposed and, I am sorry to say, vanquished our fallen brother Sama’il? Who stopped the motor of the last Creation?”
-Suddenly that’s a good thing? –F.
"In the beginning, was that your commission?"
-How full of queries are these angels! Though their Master already knows each answer. When he has time off from holding every particle still! Which is never. --P.
“You won by a whisker's whisker. You gave a man the fatal weapon. It was a master stroke, Pestilence. Try not to be so despondent about it.”
-Miracle of miracles/ only took them 13.729 billion years to admit it/ --D.
"Fine. Then, we do."
-Though I didn’t have more than a fraction of a thought to strategy when I encountered Chantal in the street before Marie Reine du Monde. Don't entirely credit our tactics either, Gabriel. I had other concerns. –P.
-Petey, they never let us in th’ machine room a’ th’ X-iverse. Why would they? –W.
“Dr. Bernheim has near to opened that very door and let you in. And now, for all, you know.”
-So she’s right, Mikey. – W.
“Spectacularly correct. She may well be one of the most intelligent human beings who have ever lived.”
-Not Dr. Bailter? Or don't he count 'cause he's an atheist? –W.
-Leah's also not terribly hard on the eyes-- –P.
-Excuse me! –F.
-Mea maxima culpa, Francis… although why do you reward her for that, angels? What of Goethe? What of Goedel? Galileo? And that’s just the G’s. William has a good point also; what of Dr. Bailter? --P.
“Dr. Bernheim outstrips them all. She stood on a giant's shoulders, yes, but with your assistance, she has rediscovered her faith, and she has all but found the moving principle of the universes. She understands that science is much as Isaac Newton saw it, a method for discovering how our Heavenly Father hewed creation out of darkness without form, and how He set all in motion.”
-Whaddya know, th' 'blind watchmaker' argument again. --W.
"Call Him blind at your peril, War."
-Don't threaten us when ya expect a favor. Yer not talkin' t' Job here. --W.
“She cannot know who you are. She cannot be told that.”
-I have heard equal parts sophistry and flattery here, but I’ll let them go. –P.
-I don’t think I will/ Azrael did say the last creation was sealed off to us/ we couldn’t get to it/ we had to go look for a scientist to prove him wrong/ no wonder Az isn’t here/ too embarrassed, probably/ --D.
“It was his assumption. You have his apology for misleading you if you require it."
-And we never said we’d tell her. –F.
“Thank you. Now we ask that you decide.”
-I don’t at all doubt the woman is smart. But as you yourself said, look who she chooses to call ‘friends.’ –P.
“Leah calls her own eyes ‘filthy liars,’ and it disturbs not her inner sight. She may well already know you for what you are, and she may not care.”
-Dear me, you don’t expect her to do an Oedipus on them… --P.ah
“Like all wise persons, she takes her friends where she finds them. Whoever and whatever they may be.”
-Possibly then, she has made one mistake. –P.
“The companionway will open soon. Decide.
-I have. –F.
A key was turned in the electrical room door. Gabriel placed his hand on the knob and the lock jammed.
-I have not. --P.
-What he said. --W.
“We must come to some kind of consensus.”
“My brother Gabriel and I agree that she is needed.”
“We do. While I can’t keep this door shut forever…”
Perfect timing! A fist began to quite rudely pound on the door. Not too loudly, though. Swiss craftsmanship, once again.
-Needed? Your Creator moved the goalposts every which way in this universe so that those who led all the rest to understanding of the previous X-iverse would be damned to obscurity here! Why Leah and why not, oh, William James? –P.
“We do as we are ordered by the All-Knowing and Wise One. If you ask for my opinion…”
“…It is possible that she will be needed more in the near future.”
-Petey, that’s all we’re gonna get outta them. –W.
“If we knew anything else…”
-And our payment for this/? --D.
Gabriel appeared against playing the card, but...
"Freedom."
-Indeed. --P.
-Define that, Michael. --F.
"No more fingers in your skulls. No more paths laid out for you. No more hands in your heads, piloting you about."
-No more Chennevieres. --W.
"No."
-Brothers? What do we think? –P.
Something far larger slammed against the door and the doorframe.
“This one time, Horsemen… I may wish you luck.”
We turned one by one for the CW. Unfortunately it still wasn’t there.
-Maybe somehow you could tell our techies to try a little faster! –F.
“Where the door is open, there you shall go into the house.”
-This is not the time/ for Hasidic tales… --D.
-Not the world, our plaything. Us. At last, unencumbered. --P.
The door shook again.

Copyright 2010 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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October 14, 2014

The Human Game, pt. 286: Down a Man

Within the main electrical room at L’Universite Americain de Geneve, David and Geist landed with Dr. James before him and across the horse’s lower neck. Geist’s hooves hit the concrete floor, the companionway vanished, and now we begasn t note a certain furor beyond the exit door. To say nothing of the looks on two angels’ faces. We looked at them, they at us.

-You haven’t changed a bit. –F.
-Michael, who’s minding the store at the NHC? The, uh, UPS server room or whatever it is? –P.
Gabriel – yes, him again -- chose to speak first, but he would.
“You have failed.”
-I know a dead man when I’m carrying one, Gabe –D.
He was, too; anyone consulting the view of Dr. James would see the top sixth of his head was missing and a notable crease across the top of his exposed brain, thanks to Detective Teitelbaum’s bullet.
-So, Michael…? –P.
“The technicians found a man trying to stop the device from working. It is stable now, if that’s the correct word.”
-While I’d assume you’re not on the spire of St. Severin in ‘Verse II but you are on the spire in this one. –P.
“…”
“Best answer him, brother, and then on to the important subject.”
“For all that it matters, and it doesn’t, Pestilence, there is only one of me. If I leave one St. Severin, if we must use your terms, I leave them all.”
-How’s the view? –P.
-Petey, knock it off. Look, Gabe, we apologize. –F.
-No we don’t –P.
-What he said. –W.
-OK, OK… –F.
“You were to bring him to us alive.”
-Uh, we enlisted the help of the best people we could find/ not our fault Sgt. Teitelbaum was a good shot/ --D.
Poor David always picks the wrong time to begin stammering again… waves of shouting and so forth rose and fell outside the room.
“Quiet. What are we to do with him now?”
-I dunno, put him through th’ standard judgment process or whatever? Instead of what ya did have planned? –W.
“It was what our Heavenly Father had planned, Famine…”
“It was not his time. It was not his place.”
-He wasn’t in his time or place to begin with! He was in the wrong universe! –P.
“It appears that at last we agree.”
-Funny!! He got where he got the same way we did, more or less. –F.
“I am sorry, Horsemen…”
-No you aren’t, Michael. –P.
“Let me finish.”
-Also, we collapse this plexiverse in 18 days, so it’s not altogether, ah, academic? –P.
“Try not to sound so pleased about it.”
-So we don’t get our ‘payment.’ Azrael never told us what it was, anyway. And why isn’t he here? –F.
-Yes, I'd assume he's looking forward to replanting us on Patmos. --P.
“You already know why. He has another soul to take to the Holy One.”
“Blessed be He.”
-Loaded question. So, this one’s earthly remains… --P.
“It pains me to suggest, but this is is his universe. To use your and your scientist’s terms. Best then that we leave him here.”
-What do you mean, ‘my scientist’? We don’t take him with us?–F.
“You often speak first on this subject, do you not? Isn’t there a reason for that?”
-None of your business. –F.
-He’ll be found if he’s left here, and there’ll be questions. –P.
“You shall not be availble to answer them, Pestilence. You who reside with Death and a man a seventh of this Earth from here will manage your own mischief with no interruption from here.”
-For a real good reason, which ya should never’ve told us. –W.
-Something I now wouldn’t change for all the worlds, by the by. And since you know what’s about to occur, neither will you. –P.
“We have been over all of that.”
“Angels have constraints that you four haven’t. Place Dr. James by this wall so he isn’t trampled as we leave or as the rest rush in.”
-The scientists will be expecting to see us with him. –F.
“He belongs in this universe, he must remain here. Make your excuses as you like. Death, if you please…”
David dismounted and lifted Dr. James’ earthly husk off of Geist’s back; he shrugged to help move the body. William cast an eye to the location of the CW, as did I. Which was not there. Further noise and voices without. Whitey snuffled, impatient. I stroked his neck from behind.
-We may have to stay here a while, old friend. –P.
He didn’t seem particularly assured. I turned back to the angels blocking our exit. Michael’s sword remained in his back scabbard, for now, so therefore did ours all.
-You were saying previously, Michael. ‘I am sorry, Horsemen…’ What? –P.
“Let it go, for now.”
I looked the other way, to the actual window that my mount and I had seen out, earlier. Armed men roamed the campus, none of them (thankfully) appearing very interested in the electrical room. At this time. Students lay in the grass or sat, staring straight ahead. Some of the armed men questioned them, others were left alone. A few students embraced. Backpacks and books remained abandoned everywhere, as before. David brought his burden to the wall and left it; next he returned to Geist and put his hand on the horse’s flank.
-Gabriel, there are armed men looking for us. What is your brother sorry about? –P.
“That is why we’re standing in front of the door…”
-Well/ thanks, I guess –D.
-You must have further use for us, then. –P.
“Dr. Bernheim does.”
-Oh boy. –W.
“What?”
-I hear the other shoe falling too, Willie,,. –F.
-And aren’t some of us relieved… --P.
-Shouldn’t’ve said ‘whaddya mean, mine?’ as quick as you did, ‘bro’. –W.
-If you’re going to quote me-- --F.
“Who has been more faithful than she? What earthly man or woman has done you more good turns in that universe than this good daughter?”
-I had forgotten. There is more joy in Heaven over one sinner who repents... et ad nauseum. --P.
-It’s not like she’s getting nothin’ outta’ this. –W.
-Ozzy was all right, too –D.
“And how handsomely you rewarded him! Not this time.”

Copyright 2010 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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October 11, 2014

The Human Game, pt. 285: 'Coming Home...?'

Robot gave Dr. Schneider's wish some thought. “I’d not say no, either. Though what would be the drawbacks?”
“Give me ten years and I’ll tell you,” Leah mused, consulting her laptop screen. “Until then, short term reply would be, ‘bring sunglasses and don’t take any souvenirs.’ Wait. Better yet, put it off until we know more.”
“Ha. How does that old Flash tune go? ‘Coming home… coming home…’”
“I’ll subscribe to that,” Leah agreed, continuing her record-keeping.
Vortura decided to remain the fly in the ointment. “But… what if they landed in another reality over there?”
“One other than the one they originally entered.”
“A third universe, Doctor, yes. Or a fourth. How would we get them back, then?”
The physicist gave the question some brain space. “I am spitballing off Olympus Mons here… but first… I don’t know that they would feed into any reality other than ‘Verse I's ‘’eigen-universe” which they stepped directly into from here. From ‘Verse II, I mean. When they looked across the threshold – there’s a usage – they said that they only saw one universe, however it may have shimmered and so forth. I mean, what is the basis of Dr. Everett's interp of quantum mechanics? When you measure a particle and you get a result, for all intents you have not just made a measurement, you have also determined what universe you are in. That is to say, you are in the universe where that measurement is the correct one. So says Dr. Frank Wilczek. So Peter, David, Francis and William could very possibly only access one universe, whatever time they chose to attempt it. Second, we heard a coherent narrative from them throughout their transmission. They never told us, ‘oh, wait, there’s a Minotaur in a business suit, and here’s Queen Mab climbing out of the ground,’ or whatever. I think that after they picked up their man they re-entered the eigen-universe they first entered when they were right in front of us. There must be some similarity between ‘Verse I and ‘Verse II that allows them to occupy the exact same absolute space.”
“So you believe that the CW between them is stable.”
“We never heard them tell us it appeared unstable.”
“That was only one CW, though, between the electrical room in ‘Verse I and the space over there in front of us,” said Vortura. “This other CW they jumped into was between the electrical room in ‘Verse I and this parking lot at the end of a street in, what, Brooklyn?” Vortura considered the ledge she’d talked herself onto. “But then our eyes are filthy liars too, you said.”
“I did. Not always, though! Very good thought. We don’t know what alters if you move the far edge of a CW to another location. We’ll just have to find out. To be fair, as Dr. Brian Greene of Columbia University and Dr. Leonard Susskind at Stanford have suggested, in different ways, you understand, there may be a huge gulf between alternate universes. In ‘Verse I the next reality might not necessarily be,” she gestured, “here on the table, and the next one after that a foot further away in the same direction.”
Six minutes.
“If you subscribe to the idea of ‘bubble universes,’” Leah concluded, “well, that would be different. So let’s hope Drs. Greene and Susskind are correct!”
“About of a third of the way here, folks,” announced Schneider. “Tanker, still no evidence of our bathtub ring?”
“Very funny, Victor,” Leah said, almost irritated but not quite.
“None, Doc, still good.”
“Still sealed off from ‘Verse II. All readings… ah, flat,” said Robot World.
Vortura added, “But Dr. Bernheim, don’t you think there’s some possibility that when Victor opens up the CW here there might be some, I don’t know… dimensional bleedthrough? Incorrect terms, yes, but…”
“Ah, where did that come from?”
“…My brother listens to a lot of ‘black metal.’”
“I will take that statement as a given,” Leah sighed. “Do you mean gamma rays, ultraviolet radiation, solar flares?”
“And whatever else is available.”
“…No reason we should expect that to occur if we didn’t have the problem the first time. To be practical, though, that’s why we’re faced away from the orientation of the CW.”
Seven minutes.
“So you knew which way it would face when it appeared.”
“That I did know.”
“They said they were starting to look like everything else around them, Doctor. Riots of colors, they said.”
“I still don’t think they’ll cause us any harm, and I still don’t think the CW will either. I am sorry, V, I should have fielded all these topics before. I really left you all in the dark here. Didn’t I?”
“No. Not altogether. But OK,” Vortura finally assented, “I’m convinced. I think.”
“We’d better be, they’re about two-thirds of the way home… got time for one more weird question, Dr. Bernheim?” said Victor, intent on his own laptop screen.
“Of course.” Naturally she had gone back to typing at ‘warp speed.’ Whatever that is.
“How did they know where to find their man? You heard. They did very little actual looking.”
“Thankfully, Dr. Schneider, we have no idea how mercenaries operate. Do we?”
“How does it go, Leah? ‘Baruch Hashem’?”
"It does that." With a bit of mischief: "Though for all we know, there could be another version of their man in every extant universe."
"You and they seem to have established something of a rapport."
"True, Dr. Schneider. They were very helpful Saturday morning, got me out of the building like a bunch of pros, really..." Though she appeared unsure how to proceed. "We get on."
Watching the TeV level in the Collider tube, Victor thought of some of the other lyrics to the old Flash tune. “She’s waiting for her shining-armoured knight… coming home…”
Well. ‘Knights.’ Just this once.
Eight minutes.

Copyright 2010 by K. Griffiths. All rights reserved.

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"A good writer is an expert on nothing but himself. And on that subject, if he is wise, he holds his tongue." --John le Carre

Exactly how interesting can the author be, anyway, when nobody has any idea where their creativity comes from or how the mechanics of inspiration works? Maybe it's something we all have access to. Maybe it's a sluice that empties into your head when you're facing in a particular direction and thinking a particular series of things. Then again, maybe not.
However benevolent inspiration really is, to say nothing of what it is, I suspect that any good fictional character is a lot more interesting than the person who dreams it up. So mine speak for me here.


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