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The Lion's Den

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Superman, Literature Oct 27 2012 · 93 views

LIONEL LUTHOR CLOSED HIS LABTOP WHEN LOIS ENTERED HIS OFFICE.  She closed the door behind her, keeping in touch with the ritual.
.........."It's good to see you, Miss Lane," he said.
.........."Cut to the chase.  What do you want?"
.........."Well, if you're going to be that way, I suppose there's no point in being subtle," said Lionel.  "Take a seat.  Right next to me - there's no point in us letting this desk separate us.  They view is too brilliant to enjoy alone."  He swiveled his chair back and around to face the window behind him.  Lois picked up the visitor's chair and walked around the desk, placing it next to him but keeping some distance.  She would get up close and personal if it was on her terms, not by his invitation.
..........The window showed the view from the top floor of the Luthor Trade Building, a hundred and fifty floors up.  Within its view was the golden globe atop the Daily Planet, and out in the distance was the silhouette of his old home, the Luthorcorp building.
.........."The view, the view is simply remarkable," said Luthor.  "The things you see up here, when you're standing up on the pedestal of a God, would put the knowledge of mortal men to shame.  Now I see things clearly."
.........."I see clouds," said Lois flatly.  "Pretty clouds.  Abstract clouds.  What do you know?  That cloud looks like a clown.  I must have one on my mind."
..........Luthor gave his devilish grin.  "No, I invited you here not to attack you.  I really miss your company, all those calm and agreeable discussions on philosophy we shared.  Then you stopped coming.  I haven't seen you since, oh when was it?  It was such a memorable date; I can't understand why it's escaping me.  Oh, that's right, it was about that time when the flying man appeared, that's right.  Lex has been demonizing him with the press and has called him the Red Menace.  I guess he was fortunate you wrote the first story on him and coined a much more positive name that stuck."
.........."Is that all you brought me here to talk about?" asked Lois.
.........."Well, what would a trip to my place be without one of our kind and amiable philosophy chats?  You know, after all our discussions, I'm surprised with your choice in names.  Superman?  Have you finally resigned to my views?  Is that why you have not come back for another verbal swordfight, because you have seen my philosophy triumph and walk now with your tail between your legs?"
.........."Don't be so sure of yourself, Luthor," said Lois.  "I still don't believe in the Übermensch, but I'm still searching for an ideal example of humanity.  I believe Superman is the one, and you haven't met him.  He isn't a god."
.........."What is he?"
.........."He's just a friend," said Lois.  "And if you can't see that, you're blind.  All of you Luthors are blind."
.........."What?  No, no Lois, I see you point," said Lionel, turning a little toward her and kicking his right foot up onto his left knee.  "It's valid and it's the basis for a new counterargument, now, and your rhetoric is improving.  You make me proud."
.........."Mr. Luthor, if you don't have a reason for keeping me here other than to have one of our old conversations, then this is a waste of my time," said Lois.  She got up from her chair and headed toward the door.  "I've outgrown you, and you're living in the past, thinking that I'm still that insecure reporter who needed access to a big shot to feel important.  I'm done here.  Goodbye."
..........She reached for the doorknob.
.........."What about your date with this Superman?" said Lionel.
..........She stopped turning the knob.  She looked back at Lionel and saw a devilish smile on his rugged face.
..........Great.  She would have played dumb, but her pause had already revealed everything, and "I don't know what you're talking about" was the lamest response ever.  Even if she didn't hesitate, Lionel still carried through on his hunches, so it didn't matter if he had empirical evidence or if he was just bluffing.  It was too specific to be a hunch anyway, too perfect, only just a day after she met him on the rooftop.  There was no way out of this.
..........He seemed to sense when she had given up, and he chuckled.  It was never good when he chuckled.  It meant that she was screwed over.  He won, end of story, there was no more need to struggle on her part.
.........."I had my secretary go fetch me my telescope," he said.  "I told you the view was great.  So I'm presuming, of course, that this was officially an interview, what with your recording device, but I saw how comfortable you two were.  You, of course, being as hungry for a story as you are, would have back to the office to create a typo-filled account of your meeting as possible.  Yet, what escapes me is, why hasn't this turned up?"
.........."I decided," she fumbled.  "I'm still thinking this over.  I'm trying to be an ethical journalist, not just someone who sells herself out to anything big that comes her way.  People deserve a better reporting system.  And I'm just going to publish it anonymously, anyway."
.........."A man can't deny his true nature," said Lionel.  "Or a woman, and when a woman makes her mind to do something, she does it."
.........."I am going to publish that encounter," said Lois.  "I'm just ironing out the story so that it comes out the way I want it to."
.........."One that doesn't include the dating aspect of it, I suppose," said Lionel.
.........."That's not true at all," said Lois.  "There was nothing romantic about it.  He came just to tell me what the world needed to know about him.  I'm calling you out on the bluff that you saw the details so clearly.  I didn't have a recorder with me."
.........."Oh please, don't insult my intelligence," said Lionel.  "I merely filled in the blanks with my imagination, but it doesn't take a genius to figure these things out.  I saw a man clad in red and blue fly toward the Daily Planet, and when I looked really hard I saw you there waiting for him.  This was no accidental encounter.  He specifically chose you, out of all the reporters in the world, someone who hadn't had fame and credibility to lend to his image.  Imagine the implications: it means that he somehow either already got a glimpse of your personality to know you personally and therefore have a trust in an unknown, or he just picked you out the crowd because of your pretty face.  Both are very flattering to you and indicate personal interest, and given that you seem to be a big believer in this ideal man, this Superman of sorts, it doesn't take much to conclude that you like him in return.  If I can put the pieces together, Lex will."
.........."Don't call him 'this Superman'; it's impersonal," said Lois.  "He's a person, so Superman isn't title but his identity, like a name."
.........."Oh, you continue to betray yourself," said Lionel.  "Here, sit down.  Let me explain something to you.  Okay, stand up for all I care.  No here's the point: I'm not out to get Superman.  I look at him and he offers something of a challenge to my worldview, but he's not my problem.  I'm sure his presence will actually help my business.  Yet, my son isn't as apathetic.  He looks at Superman and instead of seeing a Big Blue Boyscout he sees a Red Menace.  He's jealous, my child, jealous.  Lex fancies himself at the top of the food chain, upstaging even his father, and he wants the title of supreme human being all for himself.
.........."Lois, by the way, you look miserable without a coffee," he noted.
.........."Yeah, just go on with it," she said, her arms crossed.  "Go on.  Anything left you'd like to throw at me?"
.........."Well, in a moment.  I don't have any coffee on me, sad to say.  I never believed in introducing chemicals into my system to control my senses on my behalf.  I do have some mints in my drawer.  Would you be content with those?"
.........."Stop mocking me."
.........."Have you ever noticed how a father can condemn his children by talking down on them?  Lois, you have to become a woman now and admit that I am in the right here, which I know is a very difficult thing to do, by I am very patient and understanding.  I am not out to get you.  I am not out to get Superman."
.........."If these things are none of your concern, then, I suppose I have no reason to stay and enjoy your rudeness," said Lois.
.........."Not true," said Lionel.  "Here's where you have to admit that you were wrong: I am not your enemy.  In fact, I really want to be your friend."
.........."Now you're just trying to manipulate me," said Lois.  "What do I have to do to get out of this?"
.........."Nothing!  Absolutely nothing!" said Lionel.  "You could have just continued walking out that door and it would have been the end of things.  You could do it right now, save for your lack of trust in me, and that's what needs fixing, Lois.  We need to be able to trust each other, and I trust you, so that leaves one of us meet the other halfway."
.........."That's different and you know it," said Lois.  "I'm actually a trustworthy person.  That Superman believes it only proves it.  Who do you have to endorse you?  Politicians.  As far as I'm concerned you're still a mean and manipulative wolf.  I'm beyond manipulating now."
..........Lionel smiled.  For once he wasn't smug, but it was still offsetting that he seemed to take it as a complement.  "A wolf, maybe, but I'm selective in who I target.  You're off-limits for me, but maybe not for others, and trust me, you can be manipulated.  That tough-as-nails reporter thing you've got going for you is almost perfect, but that's only ninety-nine percent of the story, isn't it?  You're just sensitive enough, just vulnerable enough that you fall girlishly for Superman.  I bet he recognizes your insecurities and makes them go away.  So taking these flaws into account, it occurs to me that you need protection, Lois.  I am on your side."
.........."What do you want out of this?  Why are you interested?"
.........."Lois, can you for once in your life believe that this is purely because I like you?"
.........."No."
.........."Very well," said Lionel, stroking his beard.  "Well, then, that's all I had to say.  Just know now that I am doing everything I can rightfully do to see to your protection.  You can go now."  He opened his labtop, tapped a couple of keys, but then seemed to remember something as he looked up.  "Oh, and one more thing.  I believe he didn't pick you out because of your pretty face but because he appreciated you already as a human being."
..........He didn't say anything more.  He just rested his chin on his right hand as he observed God knew what o his screen.  Lois now felt completely dismissed, but in a moment of curiosity pondered what he cold potentially be looking at on that computer.  Big shots always flipped their desktops down whenever anybody entered the room, whether they had any secrets or not.
..........Lois left the room and took the elevator on the long way down.  The ride seemed to last forever, but the time flew as she focused her energy on reasons she hated Lionel Luthor, that dirty rotten businessman who climbed to the top by stepping on innocent people who didn't deserve to be put down.  Of course, nothing could ever be pinned on him, and nobody had ever successfully sued him.  Although he didn't make a single effort to hide his unfairness with his chauvinistic attitude, he wasn't an honest man.  He used every dirty trick in the book.  Who did he think he was to believe she would consider for a moment that he was trustworthy?
..........When she left the building and walked along its shadow, she decided to take a shortcut to the Daily Planet through an ally way.  It was suicide, she knew, especially in a big city, but nobody ever actually attacked people in the allies.  That was just a stereotype reserved for the incredibly unlucky.
..........Still, Lionel was on her mind.  She wouldn't need him anymore, she knew.  She had found a new friend to make her feel on top.
..........She stopped and rested against the brick wall.  God, Lionel was right.  She had crawled to him when he was open to her just to argue off the record about philosophy.  In some ways, it really was just that, and the relationship was real, but she couldn't lie to herself and say that their relationship was just about being frienemies and exclusively just that.  Now she passed him on exactly when Superman came along.  So long as she had someone larger than life in her world, she was content.  She really was insecure.
.........."Hey lady..." mumbled a sketchy voice.  Lois looked up.  There was a man with a load of shabby clothes and an upturned collar.  In his hand, no surprise, was a pistol.
..........Go figure.  She was one of the unlucky ones.
.........."Bug off," said Lois.
.........."Give me your purse, or you know the rest.  Don't try to fight, don't cry 'Superman!'  Don't annoy me, either.  Just give me your purse."
.........."Übermensch," said Lois.
..........The mugger hesitated for a moment.  "What?  I'm confused."
..........Lois kicked him in the gut and shifted her weight so that she was both out of the way of the gun and a smaller target.  Then she grabbed the mugger by the arm and drove her knee into his wrist so that he let go of the gun.  To finish the deal, she kicked him between the legs, grabbed the gun, and sprinted down the ally.
.........."Hey!" he moaned, but he wasn't catching up with her.
..........When she was out of there and had put a couple of blocks' distance from her and the mugger, and when she was on a populated street, she allowed herself to stop and catch her breath.  She looked at the gun in her hand, realized how bad that looked, and stashed it away in her purse as fast as she could.  Someone had probably already saw.  That was no good.  Well, she would call the police and report that the gun was in her possession as soon as she could to clear up any confusion.
..........That was, now that she thought about it, exhilarating.  Then she thought about it some more.  She didn't need protection.  Not from Lionel Luthor and not from Superman.  She had just stood up to someone who aimed a gun at her point-blank.
..........Well, Lionel was right about some things.  She couldn't deny her true nature.



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Valerie the Valedictorian

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Literature Oct 26 2012 · 74 views
The Immortals, epic
WE CAME THROUGH THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, and Joe wouldn’t stop apologizing for the park’s lack of beauty.  “Roosevelt Park,” he insisted, “is perfect in the late spring when the grass is green.”
……….He was, of course, being ridiculous and picky.  “I’m just going to call you out on being too specific with your expectations and narrow in your interpretation of what is fine quality,” I said.  “You’ve only ever come here during those times and this is what you expect to show us.”
……….“He’s right, Joe!” said Valerie.  “I used to come here all the time as a kid, and that included the winter.  I have some great memories of those days.  We would build snow forts and take our sleds here, and on top of all that it’s a winter wonderland!”  She reached out with a red mitten to grab Joe by the hand and pull him forward.  The rushed into the park and tripped, maybe by accident but just as likely by intention.  They laid there for a moment, talking.
……….I stood there, since this really was a personal thing between Joe and his new companion.  He did, after all, owe it to her to be respectful on this date and give her his full attention.  At least, that was how I saw it, but then my beliefs on relationships were a bit old-fashioned, much like Mary Sue’s insistence on keeping men organized out of her womanly virtues.
……….There was a monument nearby.  It called itself the North Dakota Medal of Honor Memorial.  It was something I never received because I always avoided attention, and also something I never deserved because my commitment never required bravery, but it was still a military memorial.  I was drawn to it.
……….There was a central monolith, made out of three white spires, surrounded by a circle of ninteen smaller pillars, each with their own plaque commemorating a recipient.  It was actually quite a few for such a small state.  In fact, North Dakota had more Medals of Honor to its name per capita than any other state.  A flag flew out in front, which in my mind was the most important element.
……….Mary Sue stood next to me.  “Well, it looks like Joe was right.  There really is something for everyone, even you.”
……….“There are some people who did good things for this country,” I said.  Silence.  I could think of many profound things to say, but for the life of me nothing seemed just right at the moment.
……….“Did you ever really want recognition?” asked Mary Sue.
……….“When I was young I was just an idealist,” I said.  “I think that I sort of wanted something for myself during the Spanish War but…that was not so long after I first discovered I was immortal and I was more interested in taking advantage of it rather than thinking of how I was going to live with myself.  No, I haven’t been tempted for a long time.”
……….Joe was different, though.  I found in wars with him and we talked about our experiences whenever we were together as an inevitable way of catching up with each other.  He had always been tempted.  He could get away with slightly more recognition, I knew.  Mary Sue knew, and she had helped him with that internal struggle we first met.
……….I sat on a bench along the path leading up to the circle.  “I don’t have a whole lot to say about that subject, which is strange.  It means my momentum has really slowed down.”
……….“Do you think you’ll ever fight again?” Mary Sue asked.
……….“Someday, eventually,” I said.  “When I live forever, things are bound to repeat themselves.”
……….She sat down next to me.  “Some things have yet to be tried, though.”
……….I thought it through, because these were very obvious statements.  I suppose to a younger person it would have made sense, considering that young people wish to do everything.  Yet, I didn’t have the urge to do everything anymore.  I just wanted to do the things that mattered.  I wanted to find a single definitive thing that brought purpose into my life.
……….In their own time, Joe and Valerie were making snowballs and throwing them at each other.  They ran about using the scattered trees about the garden as defenses, all the while laughing whenever one managed to land a shot.  It seemed nice, but not my thing.  Surely those were fun activities, but as it was with Maysa Arena and earlier still with the French Retreat, what was it other than just “fun”?  Maybe it was different with Joe.  He was, of course, full time military, unlike me.  He had never at any point quit.  He always followed his job wherever it took him.  He had stopped searching and just enjoyed what calling he had.  Maybe that was his secret.  Then again, maybe not.  I knew where he was incomplete.  I knew what would come one day to destroy him.
……….Yes, suffice to say returning to the battlefield was an option.  It was the easy thing to do.  The only complications would be faking my personal information, which perhaps Joe could help me with.  It wasn’t a perfect plan, considering that my appearances were very sharp and distinct, especially with my height, whereas Joe had the upper hand of looking completely and utterly average.  I was always afraid that someone might remember me if they saw me twenty years later.  It was always a very real possibility.  Still, if I waited thirty or forty years between each time I enlisted, it was still something I could regularly do throughout my life.
……….Maybe this depression was only a phase.  Maybe I was thinking too much about it.
……….“Do you know what you need?” asked Mary Sue.
……….“Obviously not, but go on,” I said.
……….“I think you need to lead,” said Mary Sue.  “Take the reins and plot your own course.”
……….“Mary,” I said, turning to her, “what are you doing on this trip, anyway?”
……….“I’m always there for my boys,” said Mary.
……….“What are you looking for?”
……….“Honestly, I’m out to help my friends.  You’ll do the same thing when I’m feeling down,” she said.  “Just make yourself happy.  Once you’re happy, I’m happy.  I want to be there when stuff happens.”
……….“Because seeing someone get over the fact that he’s lived too much is a monumental event,” I said.
……….“It is for me,” she said.
……….Valerie ran up to the monument and hid behind the central monolith.  Joe chased after her, holding his arm back ready to throw, but he stopped short of the monument.  He lowered his arm and put his hands together in front of him.  The snowball went nowhere.
……….She peeked from behind the monolith, and then walked backward to stand next to Joe, following his gaze.  “That’s right.  You’re in the Air Force.  Is this a powerful experience for you?”
……….“Always,” said Joe.
……….There was a long pause.
……….“You know, they raised two-fifty thousand dollars to make this.  I don’t get it.  It’s just a bunch of geometric objects.”  He played with the snowball in his hand and then let it drop to the ground.
……….I stood next to them.  Mary Sue completed our row.  We wandered around, looking at the various plaques and reading what each had to say.  I wasn’t familiar with anyone I read about.  Most of them were from the Philippine Insurrection, anyway, which I never cared enough to partake in.  I always had mixed feelings on America’s imperialistic conquest.  None of us talked much, which was strange because I wasn’t that solemn, but maybe Valerie interpreted our personalities that way, because she seemed to really want to be polite for Joe.
……….“How long have you been in the military?” asked Valerie quietly.
……….“Long time,” said Joe.  “I think I signed up sixteen years ago.”
……….“What do you think you’re going to do when you’re done?”
……….“Done?”  Joe paused, stopped looking down, and met Val’s eyes.  I looked away, pretending I wasn’t listening.
……….“Yeah, in four years you can retire,” said Valerie.
……….“I don’t think I’ll ever be done,” said Joe.
……….I cringed and walked over to Mary Sue.  She knew I was listening and I knew she was listening.  She was pretending to still be interested in the monument, but she was biting her lip.
……….“Joe, you only live once,” said Valerie.
……….“Back in the old days, they called that Carpe Diem,” he said in a soft, soft voice.  “And I believed in it.”
……….“You mean you don’t believe in it now?  Please enlighten me,” she said.  I pretended to talk to Mary Sue, so I wasn’t looking their way and I couldn’t quite tell how Valerie said that last statement.  I hoped it was with a smile.
……….“It’s not how much you do, it’s what you do,” said Joe.  “I stopped thinking about the future a long time ago and thought about the present.  It gets my mind off of things.  I’m never going to get the past back, and I sure as Congress won’t get my childhood back.  Yet, I’ll never get the future, and I’ll never be where I want to be, so I just gave up seizing the day and started giving the day away.  I’m where I need to be, with my country.  It’s my calling.”
……….“You’ve given your country everything,” she said.
……….“Alright,” said Mary Sue.  “I’m done pretending I’m not hearing this conversation.  I mean, it’s really interesting.  I really want to speak on Joe’s behalf, here.  Let’s just say you could live forever.  What then?  You serve the good people of Earth for a few years and then you stop.  That isn’t enough.”
……….“Furthermore, if I can add onto what Mary said,” I interjected, scratching the side of my head.  “Wait, are you fine with that?”
……….“Go ahead.”
……….“Let’s go to this extreme, then.  In normal circumstances, yes, I understand that you die and it is possible to give everything by virtue that you fill up your life with your works, but let’s carry on this philosophical notion of eternity, which in a sense we experience now, for the present is where our time curve touches eternity.  The point is, what is everything when you live forever?  You can never possibly fill up your life with your work, because all that you have experienced and done is merely all you have experienced and done up to that point.  No matter what, however, there will always be more future waiting for you in need of filling up, no matter how far into that eternity you have reached.  Similarly, in actual application, in a normal life anything you have given is merely what you have given up to a certain point.  It doesn’t matter what you have given.  What always matters is what you can give in the present so that you can continue to do so in the future.”
……….“Okay, but let’s assume there’s something else out there,” said Valerie.  “Let’s assume you do give everything but have not love?  Then you are but a resounding gong.”
……….“Nice point, but I believe that the exact wording is ‘I gain nothing,’”, said Joe.  “Really, though, I understand your point, but the King James Version specifically refers to this love as charity.  I think that’s what I’m doing.”
……….“See, this is what I mean,” said Valerie.  “You have a big heart.  You serve a really high calling and you know where you stand spiritually.  I think you’d make a great man for someone someday.”
……….“Val, it’s a little more complicated than that,” said Joe.
……….“No, wait, I’m no longer on your side, Joe,” said Mary Sue.  “She just brought up an interesting point about manliness, and I just find this fun to talk about being a woman.  I believe that a true man needs to be a spiritual leader.  You know my views on this are a bit old-fashioned, but when Valerie mentioned that you have a lot of heart, that reminded me of when I was first seeking romance and I valued a man who could help me lead the family’s heartbeat.”
……….“I’m just going to come out and say that to some extent that I agree with Mary Sue because this was what I was raised with as well,” I said.  “I believed that a man needed strength to stick up for others in a very personal way.  I remember principally my father and what he means to me.  Of course, things have changed a bit now, and I understand that certain social norms for femininity have been rightfully questioned, which is a good thing.  It reminds me of the works of Thoreau and what he believed in.  Now it seems that we are heading toward an area of balance, but it still stands that I believe there are fundamental ways in which man and woman complement each other.”
……….“See, I stopped believing in that,” said Buzzy.  “Women are really strong.  They don’t need men, just friends.”
……….“But I like you,” said Valerie.  “And part of the reason I like you is because you’re a man.  The way that it makes you different from me just feels completing.”
……….“Why are we all talking with such well-organized thoughts?” said Joe.
……….“Okay, I’ll stop, but we’ll give Valerie the final word,” said Mary Sue.  By saying “we” she was implying me as well, so I worked in conjunction with her.
……….Valerie looked at Joe and they faced each other full-on.  She reached out to his hand and held it, patted it.  “I just want to see you go somewhere.  I have no idea why it’s the right thing.  I have no idea how to justify it.  I just know that I see potential for something beautiful.”
……….“That sounds very romantic,” said Joe.  “Why does it have to be romantic?  I just like being friends with my fellowman.  Like what we have here.  I just want to sow my friends Minot, and I met you and…I don’t know, I really enjoy this as a date, and you’re right, there’s a basic appeal to this, but it’s not because I’m looking for something.  I’m trying to give something.  Like – I just want you to have a good time because it seems like a cool idea.”
……….“It’s funny how easy it is to feel that way when you’re a guy,” said Valerie.
……….“No, it’s not because of that,” said Joe.
……….“I think in part it is.  It’s okay to admit it.  Men like women,” said Valerie.  “I totally understand that you can find yourself wanting to be nice me without any idea why.  I really like it.”
……….“Okay, but just so you know, I don’t have an ulterior motive,” said Joe.  “Really, I don’t.  Stop smiling at me like you’ve got me cornered.  Stop it!”
……….“How about we save getting too serious and technical for the end of the date?” I proposed.
……….We laughed it all off and walked elsewhere in the park.  There was a nice antique train from the golden age of the railway, commemorating the nature of the Magic City’s founding, and a bronze statue of the park’s namesake, Teddy Roosevelt.
……….“Great president,” said Valerie.
……….“I didn’t vote for him,” said Joe.
……….“If only we could have.  It would have been an honor,” she said.
……….Then I stopped the group when I encountered a specific jewel out in the middle of a field, a large stone tablet with the Ten Commandments written on them.  “Now this,” I said.  “This is cool.”
……….“Why?” said Joe.  “It’s just a rock.”
……….“Yes, but a jungle gym is just a jungle gym,” I said, putting both my hands down on the stone and circling to the other side to face my compatriots.  “What makes this stand out is that it has merit, it has meaning, even though it just sits there and takes up space.  Imagine gathering around here in this place.  Immediately, there’s something personal about it, because there’s this rock that has words on it, words written by people from long, long ago.  And think finally of the higher force this implies, the absolutism of morality.  If morality is absolute then there simply must be a purpose in life.  Correct?”
……….“What a very meritorious thought,” said Mary Sue.
……….“Please don’t get too organized with your thoughts again,” said Joe.  “It gets contagious.”
……….“This coming from the guy who intimidated poor Valerie with  big words back at the ice rink,” said Mary Sue.
……….“Hey, all I said was ‘for our mutual enjoyment,’” said Joe.
……….“Why do you guys talk this way, anyway?” asked Valerie.
……….“Well it’s quite simple,” I said.  “I have my doctorate in English.  Mary has a master’s in education, and Joe just has to watch what he says.”  And I had a doctorate in seven other subjects, but that was irrelevant.  My very first degree was in English, though.  “In some ways maturity has been hammered into us.”
……….“You just used a passive sentence,” said Mary Sue.  “How dare you.”
……….“Maturity hammered its way into us in some ways.  Better?”
……….“Continue.”
……….“Although in other ways it hasn’t,” I said.
……….“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Valerie.  “I’m in my mid-thirties and I still sometimes mooch off of my parents and the like, and as Joe brought out I still like to goof around.  It’s weird, because I’ve been an adult for so long and I sometimes have to do soul-searching.  It’s like I’m still a teenager after all this experience.”
……….“Amen,” I said, nodding my head from behind the tablet.
……….“Where do you see yourself when you’re an old lady?” said Mary Sue.
……….“Married, I suppose, and happy,” said Valerie.
……….“No longer like a teenager?” asked Mary Sue.
………. “No, definitely not,” said Valerie.
……….“Well there you go.  John?  Any thoughts?”
……….I paused.  Mary Sue was looking at my way with a very – mark my word, very – subtle smile.  Somehow she knew I was on the spot.  “I’m at a loss of anything good at the moment.  Well, no, I take that back.  There’s something very predominant I’ve noticed about life and death, and it’s that once you get to that second half of your life you don’t take it for granted.  You know your end is coming, and you know you’re dependent.  If you haven’t achieved much before then, you definitely wish to use it immediately, because you might not get the chance the next day.  The desire to contribute especially applies to the younger generations, because you lived a life – whether or not it was a full one is irrelevant – and you wish to impart the strength of your successes and the wisdom of your failures upon those who need it most, the next generation.  The entire mindset changes.  I don’t necessarily believe that it’s because you become a better and more selfless person as you age.”
……….“You make aging sound sucky,” said Valerie.
……….“Would you rather live forever?” said Joe.
……….“Well, no, Joe,” she confessed.
……….“Even if you could be with the one that you loved, Val?”
……….“Even if I could be with the one that I loved forever.  Unless he was going to live forever anyway, in which case I’d have to be there for him.”
……….“Food for thought, though,” I said.  “Perhaps our attitude comes from the inevitability of death, and so our minds and simultaneously our cultures adapt to that to create a worldview that sees death in such a peaceful light.  Yet, how would we see death if we knew that it was completely unnecessary and unnatural, such as when people died in the September 11 attacks?”
……….Valerie played with a lock of her hair and asked for a moment to think about it.  Her left foot did that thing where it restlessly jumped up and down.  “I don’t know.  I guess if death was unnatural…no that just doesn’t make sense.  Once you’ve completed your purpose, it’s your time.  I mean, if we both believe in a higher force, wouldn’t you want to see it someday?”
……….“Yes, well I’m not satisfied with that answer,” I said, now leaning in.
……….“What do you think?” she retorted.
……….“I think the exact same thing you do,” I replied with a smile, my body language a bittersweet mockery of myself, though she could never read that attitude.  “Not that I like it, but it looks like we’re both stumped by that one.  Even when you get all intellectual, if you could actually live longer than humans were meant to live, you’re going to struggle, because your soul still functions the way human souls were meant to function.  It looks like you’re my equal now.  Congratulations!  You just graduated valedictorian in Dr. John Silver’s philosophy class!”
……….Valerie laughed.  Mary Sue smiled as well, looking at me with clear contentment.  I took my weight off of the Ten Commandments and returned to my spot next to her.
……….“I graduated with a degree in construction, actually,” she said.  “My father was a carpenter.  We liked to build things together, things that had meaning to people.  Like that gazebo over there.”
……….We began walking when she headed in the direction of the gazebo.  It was a modest white thing next to a fence on one side, a gentle slope on the other, and on all sides subtly framed by trees.  On the slope there were benches, and beyond that were a couple of artificial ponds, now frozen over, one of which had a small bridge going over it.  We crossed the bridge and ran up to the gazebo.  Once under its roof she twirled around and held out her arms.
……….“This is the heart of Roosevelt Park Zoo,” she declared.  “People hold their weddings here, right next to the green and the winding paths.  This is where hearts get locked together forever, where people have had the happiest moments of their life.  It’s always been my favorite part of the park.  This is the type of stuff I like to build.”
……….“Would you mind dancing?” said Joe.
……….“No,” said Valerie.  “Come one!”
……….The engaged each other and circled around the center of the structure.  Mary Sue and I just stood on the sidelines watching, enjoying the time they were having together.
……….“Come join us!” was Valerie’s initial invitation.
……….“Funny, but I wasn’t under the impression that this was a double date,” I said.  Mary Sue and I remained on the sidelines.  This was, after all, this was Joe’s moment.  Valerie’s as well.  It almost felt too romantic, but at least they were enjoying themselves in a way that they couldn’t have otherwise.  They began talking to each other, basically flirting again, speaking of casual things with little meaning, but I could hear something in it, something that showed why Valerie was so quick to accept Joe’s invitation to the park.
……….“My mother was a therapist…” she would whisper.
……….“Yeah, I’m guessing that you didn’t get to see her often,” Joe would say, picking up on her statements.  “Just the way you say it, I can sense that there was a divorce.  Were you young?”
……….“Seven.”
……….“There must have been a lot of tension throughout your life.”
……….“Yeah.  They married too early.  Their political and religious beliefs were too different.”
……….“If it’s too impulsive then it’s not love.  Love obligates wisdom to guide it and help it make the decisions that are right, rather than those that merely feel right.  A wise man once told me that.”
……….“Your father?”
……….“Uta-Napishti.  He’s foreign.  And when I say ‘wise old’, I mean wise old.  I swear, he’s older than the Epic of Gilgamesh.”
……….“Never heard of it.  What’ it like?”
……….“Well, it’s a funny story.  There was a man, a king, really, and he wanted all the glory in the world….”
……….She was like a child in his arms, completely enamored by a bedtime story, the kind with a beautiful moral at the end that reassures faith in the storyteller as a source of wisdom, but also as a source of comfort for sharing his imagination.  It was going to sound magical in such a way that it felt like it was coming from his own experience, him speaking his own heart
……….He completely understood her as a human being.
……….I nudged Mary Sue with my elbow.  We walked outside, out onto the miniature bridge.
……….“What do you think, a little too romantic?”
……….“No, he’ll get over her,” she said.  “He just wants that sense for the moment and enjoyment for the present.  Some people aren’t out for a relationship.  They just want to love others.”
……….“What happens the way he wants to be loved?”  No answer.  “What if he remembers when it was something he would chase and presumably have?”
……….More silence.  I didn’t want Mary Sue to answer anyway.  It wasn’t something I was comfortable talking about, either, but it was on my mind.  I just thought I’d mention it.  After a moment, I realized it wasn’t my cup of tea.  The silence became equally mine.  I looked at Mary Sue, willing her to change the subject, but for a time she held her head down low, looking at the ice sheet below.
……….“How did it feel to talk with Valerie?” she asked
……….“Good,” I said.  “She’s an intelligent lady.”
……….“I really think this is for you.  You have more doctorates than anyone in the world.  You’re so well-educated that you could teach anything, and with the age and wisdom you possess…you could command your subjects and your students like no one else.  That’s what I mean by leadership.”
……….I grabbed my silver tie.  “I’ve been thinking of something else.  I’m not sure.”
..........“To help others find their way.  To inspire.”
……….I looked back at Joe and Valerie.  “I’ve never been around Joe when he’s on a date.  I just brought something to mind.”
……….“To be a father or generations of children, a light in the darkness of doubt.  Think about it, you’ve been given such a tremendous gift.  Maybe fighting in wars isn’t what you’re meant for.  Maybe you can make better use of your blessings by teaching.  Maybe you’re not indestructible so you can survive bullets, but so you can be a rock for others to lean on.”
……….“Why me?”
……….“Because you’re unhappy.  Because you trusted me to help you, and I want the best life for you.”
……….“What about you?”
……….“I’ll help you get there.”
……….“I know you will,” I said.  “You’re always there for me.  When you question yourself, though, what then?  Mary, I believe that if anyone can accept leadership, it’s you, the humblest of servants.  I’ve heard Uta-Napishti talk of you before.  He sees something in you, an ability to not lead through strength, but by love.”
……….“Isn’t that what I’m doing here?”
……….I looked back at Joe and Valerie.  They were slowing down, even when they were already slow.  It can to a full stop.  She rested her head against Joe’s chest.  A normal man would have been uncomfortable knowing that he would have to say goodbye forever to someone after having what one would can a very romantic first encounter, but he must have had a lot of faith in her ability to understand his intentions, that this was all just a good time.  They pulled apart, Valerie holding both his hands.
……….We watched them as one would watch a catastrophe.  Nothing had happened yet, but we could feel the future coming.  We could feel the future come upon us through revelations in the present.
……….He later dropped Valerie off at the Maysa Arena.  She wanted to hold his hand, but he declined.  I decided not to intervene during their goodbye.
……….“It was nice knowing you,” said Joe.
……….“You’re a nice person,” said Valerie.  “I had a great time.”
……….“You’ll find the right person, by the way, I know it,” said Buzzy.  “I really wish could give you more, but my life is just – heading in another direction – love obligates wisdom.”
……….“I know,” said Valerie.  “Thank you.”
……….“Goodbye.  Val.”
……….“Goodbye.  Joseph.”
……….She migrated to her car but looked back for one last moment before getting in.  Joe was still there.  Well, that must have been the official sign of goodbye, because Joe turned back to us and got into the driver’s seat.  We drove off.  Mary Sue and I remained silent in the back seat, knowing he had to take the initiative to speak first.
……….“I can’t permanently commit myself to anyone,” he said.  “I just try to find someone every day who needs love as a human being.  I may not be looking for a relationship, but I really do love her.”
……….“I’ve never been around one of your dates before,” I said.
……….“Yeah, sometimes I make someone feel sad initially, but hopefully they learn to love themselves after being loved,” he said.
……….“Joe, I’ve been thinking something through ever since I saw you dancing with her.  There’s some unresolved business I have, something I want to go through with.”
……….“I think I might know what you’re talking about, in which case we’re talking abou some stuff from pretty far back.  But I was surprised.  During that date you dropped from really old business.”
……….“What was that?”
……….As he turned onto Highway 52, Joe looked back to look me right in the eye.  While he neglected the road, I was vaguely aware of a semi coming up to t-bone us.
……….“That was the first time I’ve ever heard you mention your father.”



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The Pathfinder

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Literature Oct 25 2012 · 153 views
IDES, Short Story
"ARE YOU THERE?"
.........."No, to your right a bit."
.........."There?"
.........."A little more."
.........."Wait, I see you," said Monosmith. Buzzy's bright chartreuse uniform stood out from a half a mile away, even when it was mostly blocked by tree branches. He was seated halfway up the opposite hill. There was a river in between them, so one of them was going to have to get wet. "You stay there. I'm coming to you."
.........."Hurry, that light caught a bit of attention."
..........That was true, but chances were that nothing was paying any attention to where the light was shining so much as they were to where the light was coming from. For good measure, Monosmith didn't let the light hang over the spot where Buzzy stood still and turned it off after shining it elsewhere. Everything went dark, for the brightness of the light had been very, very bright, and the flashlight was a very, very special flashlight. For a moment, everything was silent, too, but he knew predators would come to pick up his scent. He put his flashlight away and ran.
..........The thorny entanglements of bushes ripped past him as he made his way downhill. Several times he had to jump over tree roots and sudden drops. It was a chaotic route, as far off the road as it would ever get. The ground was uneven and not meant for human sprinting, and yet he had no choice because he knew that there were things that came out at night that could glide over this terrain like phantoms. The river was almost in sight.
..........There was a swishing sound. Monosmith pulled out his sword, Thomas. It awakened with a brilliant glittering silver light. There was no way to turn down its brightness. It lit the surrounding area with ghostly contrasts. Everything seemed to be either silver or black. He held Thomas out at length, ready to spirit it in any direction.
..........In spite of the light, there was nothing to see. It seemed as if whatever he had heard simply disappeared into the twisted and confusing branches of the trees. He knew it was still out there.
..........There was a large rock nearby, a broad shape about three body lengths high. Monosmith decided to risk lowering his sword hand and ran as fast as he could to the bolder. He made it halfway up, and then something hit him hard across his lower back, tugging at the tails of his coat. He twisted around and slashed at it. There was a screeching sound, and he saw a dark figure skimp off.
..........He held out his sword like a beacon. Clearly, more shapes were now becoming visible, all in migration towards him, and all coming very fast. There wasn't enough time to scale the rest of the rock.
..........A shadow lashed out at him. He cut it in half, still not knowing what his attacker looked like, not even knowing whether it was a giant beast or a small gremlin. A cold liquid greeted his face. Well, at least he knew they weren't warm-blooded. Several more pounced on him. He felled them all, walking backward up the rock as he did so. Finally, he reached the top.
..........The predators fell pack and seemed to hide behind the trees. He heard further scurrying and the sound of branches ruffling. He looked up and realized that the canopy of the trees were still above his head. Then he brightened the light of Thomas, this time intentionally using it as a light. He saw the figures seeping through the limbs of the trees like rats exploiting a sewer system. Then he saw their appearance, as hideous and as horrifying as the sun was bright. Their skin and internal organs were all transparent, rendering them almost completely invisible as rays from Thomas penetrated through them.
..........Regardless, they could be killed.
..........One sprang out from the canopy and landed across his face, leaving a gash across his cheek. He hoped that the monster blood already on his face wouldn't mingle with his own, or at least that there weren't any unpleasant side effects. He slew the creature, but many more started coming after him, jumping on him from all directions and overwhelming him. His sword was light and he was able to cover as many angles as he needed to in a short period of time, but he was still getting hit where he was least expecting it. What was more, the creatures didn't seem to stop coming, and a minute later he was almost convinced that they had advanced healing abilities.
..........It was after his arm got sore that one finally wrestled him to the ground. Others gathered around to cash in on the kill. They knocked Thomas out of Monosmith's hand. He felt then nipping at his hair and tugging at his clothes, and most repelling of all the sensation of tentacles sliding around his neck and down his mouth. A poison began entering his system that ate at his ability to care, and a black cloud of apathy slowly soaked up his soul. He grew cold.
..........No, he was not going to go down. If there was one thing Monosmith had grown to hate within his lifetime, it was dying. There was too much of that. There were friends to live for, people who would miss him. There were things he wanted to do, things that he had always lived for and never managed to complete. The drug in his system was only putting down his anger and toughness, his aggressive urge to attack. He wasn't going to go to sleep, though, not with a bright summer day inside of him. There were forms of happiness he still longed for, things he wished to live to see. In fact, there was something in particular, something he wasn't ready to give up on. Not yet.
..........Even though his mind was getting sluggish, he managed to remember to grab the light on the inside of his pocket. The monsters almost knocked it out of his hand like they did Thomas, but he endured. He held it close to him and turned it on, then drove up the light output to over nine thousand lumens.
..........The creature directly on top of him shrieked and slithered off. It worked!
..........Monosmith's bloodied face tightened in determination as he fought his way into an upright position. He pointed the light in the direction of the various monsters on his legs. In the blink of an eye they were on either side of the light, but not directly in its path. Now this light was more helpful. It had far more heed than his sword did. Unfortunately, it couldn't shine in all directions. He managed to reach for his sword and use it to slit the throats of the creatures still clawing at his back. With the sword in one hand, torch in the other, he circled around, making sure nothing would come near him. Now that he had more room for movement and time to react, he turned on his light to one million lumens for good measure. Nothing dared to come near him. Still, he considered his options. His senses were coming back to him. His aggression returned. It occurred to him that he could turn the light into a long-ranged weapon, at the risk of setting the forest on fire. He knew he could.  He was, after all, not using a flashlight per se but an interdimensional traveling device, by which he was merely exploiting a technicality in time and space by tapping into the unlimited energies of time rifts.
..........Yet today was a day for mercy. He didn't know why. He didn't care about monsters who had no souls. Yet he wanted some measure of peace for the night and didn't desire to spend the rest of it worried about a fire. He had a friend to look forward to.
..........Monosmith stood still, swiveling the light around, forcing the creatures to form a perimeter around him, coming to a standstill. He couldn't leave his high ground and they couldn't enter the circle where the interdimensional rift energy shined brighter than daylight.
.........."Do you really want me? Because I can keep this up all night."
..........An hour passed before the stalkers were the wiser. Maybe they figured out that Monosmith meant to hold up the standstill until morning. Maybe they were just impatient. Monosmith didn't bet on the latter. Either way, they skulked off.
..........Monosmith sighed.
..........He took out a first aid kit and applied blessed water to his face, healing up the cuts. That was all he had and all he needed. He was confident that he didn't have to use it later. The rest of his body remained undamaged, protected by his coat, gloves, and boots. He called Buzzy again.
.........."Are you still in the same place?"
.........."Yeah. It sounds like you're alright. I'm glad."
.........."I'll be right there."
..........He turned off his light again. He made his way down the hill and got to the side of the river. Its pace he could judge with certainty. It was a lazy river. However, it was about three hundred feet across and his gut told him that almost all of it was deeper than his feet could reach. He would risk a lot by swimming across.
..........Yet, Buzzy was on the line. He would risk it for him.
..........Swimming across the river was not easy when Monosmith resolved to keep him supplies and clothes on him. It weighed him down. His clothes were not going to let him forget this trek for a while. In the middle of the river, he stopped to treat water and looked behind him. Even though they were transparent, he could see the wild things that had attacked him earlier gathering on the shore and swimming across. Might he add, they were swimming about as fast as he could run. He whipped out his IDTD and shined it at them, this time spearing no expense and powering his beam up to a tidal wave of light. Water evaporated where the light touched it. The creatures didn't even have time to scream. They burned up and sank in the water. He touched the tan sands of the beach where the remaining horde lurked, and they scrambled only to fall down and turn black, this time the blackness of burn marks instead of shadows.
..........Monosmith turned off the light and became swimming again. He presumed that this had scared them away for good, and if not it would once he reached the opposite shore and swept the area while on good footing. He reached solid ground again, got to his feet, and did exactly that. Water boiled, presumably many fish died, but no fires were started, and he covered a considerable area with two solid sweeps.
..........He swept his hair out of his face. That was that. He remembered exactly where Buzzy was and let his sense of direction guide him. He climbed up the hill, through the bushes, and over the roots, but this time in no hurry. When he came to the spot, he looked around, and then up at the branches. Buzzy was hiding amid the chaos, resting where a pair of limbs split a trunk in two. Monosmith waved at him. Buzzy waved back and dropped down.
.........."You were actually not the first person I expected to come rescue me," said Buzzy.
.........."Buzzy, you're my best friend," said Monosmith.
.........."Yes, but you have you life."
.........."Actually, about that," said Monosmith. "It's not going very well."
.........."Oh?"
.........."Let's talk about it as we walk. The more ground we cover the better."
..........Buzzy nodded and began walking north. He pulled out his pistols. Between the two of them, they could handle all the midnight monsters the forest could throw their way. "Yeah, I'm not going to lie, I can cover a lot more ground now."
.........."What exactly happened to your team?" asked Monosmith.
.........."Would you believe me if I said it was not those things that go bump in the night?"
.........."I assumed it was something more serious, yes," said Monosmith.
.........."Well it was an ambush. Since it was at night I thought it was the predators, but then gut instinct saved me at the last moment and I ducked outside of camp. A missile hit the clearing and killed everyone instantly," said Buzzy. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't any normal attack, either. I never saw my attackers, but I'm pretty sure I saw a silhouette of an Aardse. Again, if I were to go with my gut instinct, I would say that he or she is still out in these woods, and that's a cause for far greater trouble than the natural inhabitants, so I'd keep your sword out if I were you.
.........."Sorry. What were you saying about life?"
..........Monosmith put his gloved hand on the pommel of Thomas, but he didn't pull it out. "For the time being it looks like I've returned to the fight."
.........."I thought you were trying to retire to a personal life."
.........."Heaven knows, I deserve it," said Monosmith. "Yet, I still have my obligations here. As tiresome as it gets, I'm actually not ready to slow down, not until I've finished with my business here."
.........."That sounded like the younger man I used to know," said Buzzy.
.........."I grew old, unlike you," said Monosmith.
.........."I got stuck on a space ship going near the speed of light. I can't help it that primitive means of travel slowed time down for me."
.........."I know. At least on my part I haven't had to suffer having to see you change. At least there are some constants in my life," said Monosmith.
.........."So what changed you mind? I mean, what brought you back, specifically?" asked Buzzy.
.........."Sadly, the usual," said Monosmith. "I want to have a family, and I wanted to have it with someone in particular. It's too bad she's perfectly happy with someone else. I went through the usual stages, including denial, but those went by fast enough by virtue of this being the second time, and this time...this time I think I really have come to accept my calling."
..........Buzzy stopped. "Did you hear that?"
..........Monosmith looked around. The crunching of their feet against the leaves stopped. There was indeed a sound around. Maybe it was the Aardse. A small critter jumped out in front of them, then pranced off.
.........."Never mind," said Buzzy. "But now that I think about it, you're a loud talker. Just going to put that out there. Let's try to keep our voices down."
.........."I think I'm truly back for good, ready to get this unfinished business out of the way," said Monosmith.
.........."Hey, Monosmith, I'm still thinking the right person is out there for you," said Buzzy. "You'd make an awesome husband. It doesn't necessarily have to get in the way of defeating evil. I'm saying this as your best friend, and as someone who's been there from the start. I know that the two of us have been the two most eternal bachelors in the universe, but I truly feel that the right person is out there for you."
.........."You know the sad thing?" said Monosmith.
.........."Please, don't tell me," said Buzzy.
.........."I'm telling you anyway. There's nothing secret between us," said Monosmith. "I fell in love with several different ladies after that. Not that I told them, but I'm longing for it. After the emotional connection with the one ended, my defenses just laid down on the ground and got curb stomped."
.........."We're just two different animals, aren't we?"
.........."Ywis," said Monosmith. "Well, that bit of emotional floundering further separated me from the need to feel attachment to any given human being and advance and agenda for a relationship, barring the desire to build upon friendships that already exist, such as my friendships with you and Ashley, all of which are ongoing stories whose books can only get thicker. As it stands - " Monosmith stopped. There was a light in the distance, something green. "Over there."
.........."I see it."
.........."It looks like you were right about that Aardse." There was no way it was anything but a sword like his.
.........."I think we can make our way around him."
.........."No," said Monosmith. "We're going to hunt him down."
..........Buzzy shrugged. This was Monosmith's jurisdiction, not his, and in that instant the plan was set. Monosmith looked out at the distant hill and calculated the distance. It should take ten minutes if they both ran. There was, of course, the possibility of running into the less than courteous wildlife and getting a bit occupied, in which case there would no doubt be much light and noise, alerting the Aardse of their presence. Yet, it could be assumed that the light of the Aardse's sword was a sign that he or she was having the exact same conflict. On the other hand, it could be an attempt to lure them in. Either way, Monosmith was going to meet this person come HeII or high water, both of which he had recently conquered.
..........Monosmith and Buzzy ripped their way through the forestry, covering the distance in a little more time than Monosmith had predicted. When they came close to the light, the slowed down to reduce their noise as much as possible. They did not hear any struggle going on. It must have been a lure. Maybe the Aardse had guessed who he or she shared the forest with. While Buzzy stayed behind, Monosmith slipped through the trees and grabbed his sword, making the presence known.
..........She - for the Aardse was a she - turned around in surprise. Her angelic wings folded up with tension.
.........."Settle down. You might attract unwelcome company," said Monosmith.
.........."You," said the Aardse.
..........Instead of extending his sword out in an invitation to duel, Monosmith set Thomas down in front of him like a cane. The Aardse couldn't help but flinch. He knew that the gesture had to have a strong effect, and truly, he was one of the few who could rightfully adopt this posture toward another of his kind. "I plead diplomacy," he said. "My only wish at present is that we cooperate as decent rivals and set aside our differences until we part ways."
..........She nodded her head and sheathed her sword. It was good. Then she spoke in Mastertongue, "Monosmith, I will respect you as the noblest of enemies. Truly, it is not my place to challenge you."
.........."Your name," said Monosmith.
.........."Soul Struggle," she said.
.........."Oh really?" said Monosmith. "I think I should know a thing or two about that. Perhaps you should consider rearranging your allegiances."
.........."I have promises to keep," said Soul Struggle.
.........."What a shame. You have such a beautiful name."
..........Soul Struggle's face went steely and defensive.
.........."Perhaps you are aware of Buzzy?" said Monosmith.
.........."Why am I not surprised that he survived?" she said.
.........."You can come out now," said Monosmith, switching languages. "Soul, would it be within your comfort to constrain yourself to Lucian for the remainder of our time together for Buzzy's sake?"
..........She nodded.
..........They gathered in a triangle in a clearing. Their relative proximity to each other was astounding, considering that just a week ago the conspicuous outsider had nearly killed and certainly stranded the smaller of the men. Yet, Soul clearly knew how well she had it. She was at the mercy of Monosmith, who loomed tall and concealed a device that could fry her in the blink of an eye should he choose to throw honor to the wind. Since there was clearly no point in promoting her own self defense against two apparently courteous men, she looked out at the forest, checking to see if there were any creatures prying about. She had very well invited them to come.
.........."I'm surprised by your tactics here," whispered Buzzy, out of Soul Struggle's earshot.
.........."Well, suffice to say I wished to see this individual," said Monosmith. "Remember, we're better than them. They believe they can inflict judgment. We are ambassadors of mercy."
.........."Whenever we can help it," added Buzzy.
.........."Which is the case now."
..........They looked at each other and came to an unspoken agreement that such was the case, and they continued to observe Soul Struggle. She absolutely refused to look at them. Maybe it was out of discomfort or fear, maybe out of shame.
.........."Be a pal. Set up a fire," said Monosmith. "Trust me on this."
..........Buzzy looked one more time at Soul Struggle, curious, and made a decision to share this trust.  There was no need for it to be said out loud, for such was the repreated theme: A friend's friend was a friend of Buzzy's. He gathered up a few sticks and set them in a tent formation in the middle of the clearing. Soul looked around upon hearing enough snapping of twigs and was surprised to see yet another gesture of trust, the setting up of the fire. Monosmith used his IDTD to fire a laser at the pile and set it aflame in an instant. She almost dropped her sword.
.........."I'm guessing that this is a thing for you guys," said Buzzy, rubbing his hands together and kneeling in to the fire.
.........."More so than you might imagine," said Soul, staring into its center.  Her eyes betrayed her name.
..........Monosmith removed his sword from the ground and cut down a tree, then divided its trunk into three pieces. "Here, we can use these as benches."
..........They did, and as they gathered around the fire, they began to tell stories. Nothing too personal nor anything that revealed critical information. Mostly it took on a more abstract form, where the stories weren't literally life experiences but personifications of thoughts and ideas that they had. Between Monosmith and Soul Struggle, it became a struggle akin to the Canterbury Tales with an agenda to share the best poetry. Such was the way with Aardses. Buzzy for the most part just sat back and listened, perfectly fine that he wasn't getting any of it. Every once and a while he would poke his way in with something far more concrete just to keep theme grounded, to give them humanity when their intellect carried them too far off the ground.
..........Then they asked questions, major questions, and the inevitable came up, the one that many people had always asked him. "Monosmith, why don't you ever smile?"
.........."Oh," said Buzzy, all too familiar with being the middle man in this instance. It was as if to say "This again!"
.........."Why am I always such a somber presence? There are poor people in this world, Soul. You of all people should know that. There are people who strain to see the the light and only need but a little to show them the way. People have hopes and dreams of bigger and better things, and yet Death blackens the world with sadness. They lose that light, and they lose hope. I cannot be happy so long as there is injustice in this world, so long as men have been lied to and believed in vain. I cannot delight so long as there is no mercy for those who need it most. I grieve for those who don't know the light, who don't know wisdom and what they can have. My heart is not for me alone but for all who walk this world, and what joy can fill it when there are so few who have realized the joy of love and its endless comfort. Yet fine men, good men, suffer in a world filled with only false presumptions of happiness. What am I supposed to tell them? That everything's all right? Soul, oh struggling Soul, I tell you now that there are things worth believing in, but things are not as they should be."
.........."What a passionate man," said Soul Struggle, an eyebrow raised.  She turned over a coal with a stick, which was more interesting than his monologue.
..........Buzzy dared crack a grin. Soul decided to make use of that ability as well, although it was a very different sort of smile. Monosmith, stubbornly, refused to follow give up his position.
.........."Monosmith, I believe you are the biggest believer in causes I have ever known," said Buzzy. "Although - get this - the one thing he doesn't believe in is romance. He gave up on it."
.........."Him interested in women in the first place? No way," said Soul Struggle.
.........."Don't tell anyone," said Buzzy.
..........Monosmith looked up at the stars, taken aback that Buzzy had just given away such a private conversation. Whatever the case, he was forgiven. Then he looked at Soul and considered something. "Soul, do people tend to be honest and revealing around you?"
.........."Yes, I was hoping you wouldn't figure that out," she said, crossing her hands.
.........."Well that figures," said Buzzy.
.........."Since the cat is half out of the bag, yes, as it happens, I was once in love," said Monosmith. "I don't regret it for one moment, either. A wise man told me the lessons we learn from pain are the ones that never go away. He was a father to me."
.........."That seems uncharacteristic of Silver Bird," said Soul Struggle.
.........."He wasn't Silver Bird," said Monosmith.
..........There was a burst as a blizzard of sparks whistled out of the fire, and a pause in the conversation.
.........."I have trouble seeing you as a lover," said Soul Struggle.
..........Monosmith said nothing. He presumed that Buzzy could speak on his behalf, especially if there was a literal spirit of honesty about the air. In the face of this, he trusted Buzzy of all people to keep a strong voice.
..........Buzzy began.  "There are great men out there. Silver Bird was older than dust and a bit of a priest, always the father figure but never the husband. Me, I always was just a soldier and realized I only ever wanted friendship that could last until the day that I die. There are others, I know, who have literally become one with the cause. Yet you see, Monosmith is more human than any of them. He can be all those things, and yet...he's a wonder. At the end of the day, when you're done fighting for the cause, when you're 'there', what does 'there' look like? There are things worth fighting and dying for, but once you win them, what is there worth living for?"
..........There was silence. Soul Struggle clasped her hands and held her head low. Monosmith could almost swear she was crying. He stood up and made his way to her to put his glove on her shoulder.
.........."What is it?" he asked her.
.........."Don't talk to me like that," said Soul Struggle.
.........."You can talk to me," said Monosmith.
.........."No!"
.........."If it has to do with your self-doubts, I'm here for you," said Monosmith. "Soul, you're a beautiful person. I know you've been told this, but believe me, nobody means it like I do." She turned away her shoulder and rejected his touch.
..........The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
..........Oh no. They had lit a light on a hill! He ran over to his bench and uprooted Thomas from the ground. "Buzzy, the wildlife!"
..........Buzzy grabbed his pistols just in time to shoot at a slight dark patch that catapulted toward him. Monosmith swung his sword about and let it shine as a great beacon, as a lodestar that could be seen for miles. Between the three of them, they were going to put to rest the prowling abominations once and for all. Let them come.
..........The world seemed to cave in on them as they rampaged like an avalanche from all directions. Battle instincts told Monosmith that there were ten thousand of them, maybe more. They whirled around him, surprisingly silent. He didn't think, didn't aim. He only let the magic of Thomas control his movements for him, channeling the spirit of battle into him and guiding his arm to where it needed to be when it needed to be there. Meanwhile, he made his way next to Buzzy and stood back to back.
.........."Can you use your IDTD to torch them away," said Buzzy, needlessly shouting. There was no noise to be heard over.
.........."And be caught in a forest fire? Not worth it."
..........Once again, the familiar sensation of cuts to the face pelted him. The monsters were as numerous as raindrops in a storm. Before he knew it, he was standing on them, and a pile was building up.  Corpse scattered across the campsite, and a pile of the discarded dead fell upon the fire and put it out. Their chilly blood ran through the soil. Soon there was no soil to stand on, and he was forced to step over the bodies of the individual creatures to maintain a high ground. It was like walking through a giant junk yard, except it was made out of the corpses of monstrosities. Then, rising up from the sounds of silence came something new, something tangible. Something otherworldly.
..........Monosmith looked around. It seemed to come from nowhere, and yet everywhere at once. It was high, shrill, like the sound of a ghostly legion. Through the transparent bodies of the monsters, he glimpsed at Soul Struggle looking around in confusion. He knew it was terror. That sound affected everyone. He had heard it before. Like the sound of the Second Empire, it had a way of gaining automatic access into the soul and paralyzing it with fear.
.........."What in God's name is that?" declared Soul Struggle.
.........."Don't use the Lord's name in vain!" touted Monosmith, an automatic reaction. He had no time to really answer her question anyway.
..........In the naked light he saw a white shape stab its way through the darkness. It was big and unstoppable. It was something to be taken very seriously. While not Craytus, it was still something Monosmith recognized of the insane nuadine species. He forgot all about calling the transparent predators monstrosities. It was now time to correctly apply the word.
..........To describe its form was impossible. How could anyone properly describe the abominations that hid in the forbidden cracks in the universe? Why it had come here, he knew not. The only way he could describe it was to take note of its hovering nature. In a strange way, it reminded him of a zeppelin, except there were strange bulges across its surface and thorny growths in back. Tentacles came from its underside, squirming and hungry for flesh. Covering is was a mix of different forms of eyes that came out of its flesh in odd ways, but what he noticed most, however, was the mouth. It seemed to see with its maw, a giant vertical gash set at its bow with sad excuses for teeth inside, coming in all shapes and sizes, reflecting the distorted, demented world within. He swore he could see a single white eye on the inside.
..........It did see with its mouth.
..........The sound got louder.
..........Flying creatures spawned out of the esophagus and toward him. They bore a strong resemblance to the predators that he already had to deal with. No wonder. It took him a moment to observe what looked like overactive sacks hidden amid the tentacles that seemed to produce the original creatures like an assembly line. Where it got the material to maintain the law of conservation of mass, Monosmith could only theorize, but this was a nuadine. The laws of physics were sketchy with them sometimes.
..........Not that these observations were of any importance. It didn't do him any good to realize that the forest had been populated by the seed of a malevolent alien if it was going to kill him so soon. It was now time for the big guns to come out, forest fire or no.  He reached for his IDTD, not caring if he destroyed the world, so long as he destroyed this thing.  Yet, the flying creatures maneuvered their way toward him, berated him, and snatched the IDTD away.
..........Well if it wasn't going to be one of those encounters.
..........The big white nuadine came closer. Closer. Monosmith was helpless to do anything but fend for himself as the smaller minions stole away at his time. There had to a way out of this. Buzzy tried firing a few shots at it, but they had no effect.
..........The green light of Soul Struggle's sword shifted the angle at which it shone on the ground, through which Monosmith could calculate her position. He never dared look around and he kept his focus on the floating white terror, but he had a general sense that she was using her wings to fly upward. Of course! She could flee! Then, as it would play out, given the deals people of her kind had with the Devil, certainly there was the chance that a dark force such as this might recognize her as a kindred spirit and spare her.  Demons, all of them.  The Devil would spare his children, so long as they continued to cement the decree that only the good should die young.
..........Her green light left the melee.  He didn't count on her returning.  He wanted to say something, an ill-begotten platitude to mark the solemnity of their predicament, to punctuate their sense of abandonment, but he did not want to doom them.  He still believed there was a way out of this, as dark as this was, as certain as his death seemed.  He wouldn't let his last words be those of scorn, either.  Even if his confidence proved wrong, and this really was the end, being killed fighting a nuidine was perhaps the best way to go.  It then would have all ended in the same way that is all began, and his journey had come full circle.
..........Just in case, he prayed in Silvertongue.  "De Herr ist mein Hirte; mir werd nichts mengeln..."
..........The nuadine was coming closer.  It would soon blot out the sky.  The tremulous, tormented whine of the nuadine transcended the three dimensions, defied time and space, and felt like they were coming at him from a direction implacable, and from the past and the future.
..........Far off to his side, he was vaguely aware that Buzzy was being harassed, that he couldn't shoot fast enough to ward off all harm.  He was at the end of his rope, slick with his own blood and grime.  Seeing Buzzy, an honest friend who had been nothing but good to him, his best friend, at the very edge, tormented beyond what people were meant to endure, Monosmith felt the fiercest wrath poor out from him.  It was easy to call this wrath hatred, but it wasn't that.  He was giving Buzzy everything he had, making sure that all this suffering brought out their grandest spirits.
..........This was the price of mercy.  To be abandoned, left for dead.  At least he was creating a Tower of Babel out of these verminous bodies to reach out and touch this ugly god with a casting punch.
..........As it hovered above the edge of the clearing, he realized he didn't have any idea how he was going to get out of this situation himself.  All of those marvelous things he had done in his lifetime were all accidents, and no glory or credit could be given to him.  There would be no miraculous trick up his sleeve that would save him now, unless, of course, if by a literal miracle.  He wanted to say "I'm sorry, Buzzy," but continued on with his prayer.
..........The tenseness left his body.  He wasn't frightened or unnerved by the ethereal sounds of the nuadine anymore.  The dawning comprehension of his death came to him.  So these were his last moments.  This was what the end of his personal story would look like, feel like.  This is how the book would end, and what his final awareness would be before eternal blackness blotted out all knowledge of time.  What a beautiful night, he thought.
.........."Gutes und Barmherzigkeit werden mir folgen mein Leben lang..."
..........Then he saw her green sword.  It skirted down the side of the nuadine, lashing at its eyes.  She was being assaulted by the flying spawn of the monstrosity on all sides, but she broke free, and resisted them all the way as she fought he way to him.
..........Of course.  The literal miracle.
..........Soul Struggle landed next to him as the nuadine blocked out the stars.  In her hand, slippery with the blood of the lesser monstrosities as well as her own, she held his IDTD.  So much power in such small hands.  "Let's get out of here!"
.........."What? No, you don't understand. If we just randomly open a hole in space-time, we'll only end up in another dimension's open space and suffer the vacuum!" said Monosmith. "What I really need that for is to create a flashlight!"
.........."What!?"
.........."Trust him!" shouted Buzzy.
..........She was beat aside and prevented from giving the IDTD to Monosmith. "What do you mean by a flashlight?" she screamed. This time a raised voice really was necessary. She could hardly be heard over the haunting choir of the nuadine's presence.  In fact, he couldn't hear her, and was forced to lip-read.
.........."I can use that thing to access a rift dimension and access unlimited energy in the form of protons, and with the proper intensity it is my hypothesis that a focused beam of ten terrajoules per second would be sufficient in smiting this fiend!" He intentionally left out the detail that it would also inflame the atmosphere it left on for two long.
.........."You can do that with an IDTD?"
.........."Of course I can! I invented them! SO GIVE ME THAT NOW BECAUSE I HAVE THREE SECONDS TO LIVE!"
..........Somehow, she managed to get it into his hand with only a second left to go. The nuadine descended upon him, its mouth closing him out from the rest of the world. Soul Struggle and Buzzy dodged to the side just in time. Good for them, because inside the bowels of this creature, which was unpleasant all on its own, Monosmith was about to bring out the apocalypse. And here, blocked out from the rest of the world, he didn't have to worry one bit about inflaming the atmosphere.
..........The milky white eye gleamed from the light of his sword. Strange, toothy tentacles slurped out of the depths of the throat to strip him of his wares, or smother him, or both. He aimed his IDTD straight at the eye.
.........."Bite me."
..........A sheering white threat slit across time and space and met with the giant opal blob. Monosmith had to refrain as the shrieking of the creature climaxed, which was especially bad when he was within its very bell chamber. The eye ruptured and a firestorm of hot liquids fell down upon him. The tentacles agonized and fell back.
..........Then, without warning, the entire thing exploded.
..........Several minutes later, he was still digging his way out, and he could hear the sounds of Buzzy's guns and the swishing noise of Soul Struggle's blade. He had long since turned his infernal device off. It was no longer safe to use.
..........Finally, he caught a mouthful of fresh air. Something latched onto his face and he switched back into fighting mode. Yet, this time he didn't need a retardant to take away his will to fight. He had just killed a larger than average nuadine, and what was he doing now? The offspring were still rampant and running amok, limitless in number. This was too much for him.
..........He turned on the IDTD, but at low levels so that it was more like an extremely bright flashlight, just enough to hold the creatures at bay. He couldn't endure to fight them any longer. They could take turns playing lighthouse and establishing a perimeter until morning, and then they would be safe.
..........Panting, he almost fell over. Both his friends - no wait, his friend and a noble enemy - caught him and offered him their support.
.........."Endure," said Buzzy. Monosmith almost didn't hear him. The howl of the nuadine was still in his ears.
..........He endured.
..........And endured.
..........Then morning came, and as the first pencil line of sunlight engraved its way across the horizon the transparent creatures sulked back to their daytime hiding places to sleep.
..........Soul tucked a lock of Monosmith's slimy hair behind his ear. "You're so burnt."
.........."It was worth it. You came back," he said.
.........."I'm still struggling," she said.
..........He lifted up his hand to hold on to her wrist. "No, you're not. You've found your way."
..........Suddenly, an appendage thrust its way out of the stockpile of bodied and grabbed Soul by her ankle. She stumbled and reached for her sword. Monosmith reached for his own, and Buzzy reached for his guns, but they were all too late. Monosmith could only look into her eyes in a final moment of horror as the nuadine spawn groped at her neck and delivered fatal damage. He beheaded the creature, but he couldn't undo what had been done. He dropped his sword and grabbed Soul as she fell to the ground.
.........."I can save you!" he said. "Don't let go!" He grabbed the healing water flask from his pocket and held it over her, but it was empty from its previous use. "No!"
..........Soul closed her eyes.
..........Monosmith's face hardened with a mix of anger and sadness, yet for the life of him he couldn't summon a single tear. She was dying.
.........."You have so much to look forward to. You've found your way," he said, willing her to live.
..........He felt her spirit leave her body, and the physical form that had just moments before been the emissary for her soul on this earth he cradled in his arms. Buzzy, at loss of words, collapsed to one knee and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Monosmith shook, then raised his head and uttered a roar. It echoed across the hills.
.........."Let's take her away from here," said Monosmith.
.........."Yes," said Buzzy.
..........They left and went down to the river, where Monosmith washed himself off and cleaned wounds afflicted to Soul's body. He carried it across the hills that day until they found their way to the ship that would take them home.
.........."Did she have any family?" asked Buzzy.
.........."I don't think so," said Monosmith. "I think we should bury her here."
.........."Here? In this HeII?"
.........."It can be a beautiful place if people come here."
.........."Shouldn't she be buried with her kind?"
.........."The Aardses make all the corners of nature their tomb. This one has remained untouched for too long. In their tradition, their graves are obscure and personal, so this is what she would have wanted."
..........He lowered her body to the ground. This would be her sacred place. He tapped her heart once with his sword. The essence of life traveled from within it into her body, so as to grant it eternal beauty and prevent it from decay, and ward away the worms and other shrouded things that eroded away at still bodies.
..........That afternoon she was lowered into the ground with her sword, now black, the light of life taken from it, in her hands. As the sun set in the west, Monosmith lowered his head and recited a poem from one of his favorite poets, William Cullen Bryant, then moved on to prayers and quotations from scripture.
..........Buzzy patted the fresh dirt down and applied the tomb stone. He stepped aside to allow Monosmith work on the final touches. With Thomas, he carved letters of silver light into the surface. The epitaph read:
 

Beautiful Soul

The Lord made her path straight and rescued her in the last hour
With an hour to live, she lived, by His grace and by His power
When her journey ended, she knew she had come to her place
She never died, but rested from her travels to find peace
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
In loving memory of my grandfather, who five years ago today entered Heaven and holds me now as my guardian angel.
 





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Maysa Arena

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Literature Oct 24 2012 · 122 views
The Immortals, epic
IN MY MANY YEARS ONE WOULD SUSPECT THAT I WOULD HAVE IMPROVED MY ABILITY TO LIVE, and yet without fear of death I suffered a psychological detriment.  The average man graduated from college and knew that at the very most he was twenty percent finished with his life, but such an estimation would be generous and his life would more likely than not play out to be shorter than that and render him already a third of the way throughout his course.  Back in my heyday, man would read “Thanatopsis” and it would speak to them, knowing the inevitability of death and expect it as they approached their older years, when the rising and the setting of the sun seemed to come too fast.  Because of this arc they were in, a sense, blessed, for their story had the bookends of both a fitting beginning and a satisfying end.  Like any book with a solid conclusion, there was always a climax and a proper resolve, where life had met all of its needs and there was no further purpose in its continuation.  Yet for me, there was never an end.  When I realized I would never age, I rightfully adopted an invincibility complex.
..........As we drove across the countryside, there was much to talk about, but at least one thing had come with age.  My life might not feel complete, but I was wise.  I felt deep thoughts come about me, and I rested my head against the window.
..........Where was my life heading?  Without death to put my life into perspective, what ultimate purpose could I serve?  For so long I had spent my time helping the world, being a soldier for greater causes, so that I became more of a force of nature, in which case there was no point to my self-awareness.  I often wondered, because it seemed that my purpose was very material, if it was possible for me to reach a point where the meaning to my existence was to stop and just be a person.
..........What did I want out of this road trip anyway?
..........“Why not Minot?” crowed Joe.  The trip had been long, and the North Dakota landscape was flat and dreary with nothing to look at.  It was so bad that Mary Sue got excited to see a windmill.  At the sound of a relatively large town, my head perked up.  It was about time that we got somewhere.  “The Magic City and enemy of skateboarders everywhere.”
..........“What about skateboards?” asked Mary Sue.
..........“Skateboarding is illegal here,” said Joe.  “Except for at the skating park, but if you really want parks I’d suggest the Roosevelt Park and Zoo.  Hey, there’s some real history to this town.  I’ve been around since before it was founded in 1886.  What kind of person would I be if I didn’t know a thing or two about this place?”
..........“I can’t wait to get around and stretch my legs.  The last place we’ve been was Williston and that was two and a half hours ago,” said Mary Sue.
..........Joe took a turn on Western Ave SW.  We weren’t fully in town and there was nothing but trees and hills to our right.  The view was still pretty expansive for being in an urban area.  A lane to the right soon caught Joe’s eye.  There was a sign by the offshoot labeling the place the Minot Park District.  It led into a parking lot, and when I looked back at the large rectangular building it led to it had the large name Maysa Arena along its northern face.
.......... He parked the SUV and leaned back in his seat.  I think we all sighed.
..... .....“Well , I’m getting out,” he said.  It took a full minute for Marry and me to follow suit.
..........“So John,” said Mary Sue.  “What are you wearing a tux for, anyway?”
..........I looked down at my silky and slim attire.  I had little idea.  It just seemed very significant to me in that moment to dress up.  Back in the old days we did it all the time.  I just shrugged.
..........“No, I mean, wouldn’t you want to wear something else here?” she said.
..........“Maybe I want to impress people,” I replied.  “I’m not totally sure, but I think I have an idea of just talking with someone new and sharing my thoughts or something.”
..........“Just keep in mind that in this building is an ice skating rink,” said Joe.
..........“I know,” I said.  “In hindsight, my Civil War uniform would have looked pretty cool on ice, but since it’s the Christmas season I was under the impression that church attire looked nice and celebrative.  Speaking of which, what are we going to do on the big day?  We’re going to all be together.  We’re going to be out in the world, and chances are we’ll be somewhere we’ve never stayed before.”
..........“I honestly don’t know,” said Joe.  “I stopped celebrating the holidays when the Great Depression hit.”
..........I shook my head.  “Really?  I do all the time.”
..........“So do I,” said Mary Sue.  “Joe, you should really celebrate Christmas with us!”
..........Joe blushed, put his hands in his pockets, and kicked the ground.  “Awww, okay.”
..........With that it was a matter of letting loose and checking the place out.  Maysa Arena had two ice rinks and a warm area in-between them, and one of the rinks had a hockey team practicing.  We got our skates and went out on the other rink.
..........Now this was actually a very familiar experience, I know.  Out at the French Retreat, skiing and hiking was available to everyone.  Back there, our entire lives were dedicated to the art of pastime, so skating in a rink wasn’t a major thematic shift.  In the end, I was still doing nothing.
..........I stopped skating and Mary Sue almost bumped into me.
..........“I feel like acting out,” I said.  “I have the energy.”
..........“What’s wrong, fellow traveler?” she asked.
..........“What are we doing, anyway?” I asked.  “We’re still on our extended vacation, only this time it’s on the move.  It’s the same old stuff, though.”
We sat down on the ice and let nearby skaters pass us by.  They didn’t seem to mind.  Some girl looked at us looking as if she interpreted it as something really romantic.  For her sake, I would recommend it.  If Mary Sue and I were an item, I would find this romantic to, but it wasn’t anything of the sort.  At the heart of it all, I was just really, really sad.
..........Mary Sue held out her hands.  “Well, what is it that you haven’t yet done in life?  I mean, just think about it.  It’s not as if you’ve been very creative in your various outlets of productivity.  Let’s see, there’s been fighting as a soldier, fighting as a soldier, fighting as a soldier…”  Each time she said “fighting as a soldier” she ticked off a finger on her left hand in a continuous tally.  “And…Oh yes – fighting as a soldier!”
..........“I wasn’t Joe.  I haven’t been a soldier in maritime, just for the big wars.”
..........“Think about it, John,” said Mary Sue.  “What else is out there that most people live for?”
..........“Marriage, family, children,” I said.  “And friends.  Yeah, I get it.”
..........“I’m just going to go out there and say that the reason you went ballistic yesterday was because John Smith gave up on you as a friend.  I mean, you had each other to live for, but when one of you stopped living…” she held out her hand as if to guide the meaning of the statement into the air.
..........I sighed.
..........“See, what’s different now is that we may not be doing much, but what we are doing we’re doing together,” she continued.  “I mean, the whole reason I stayed sane at the French Retreat was because I could at least talk with you friends about the possibility of getting out.  Now we’re actually trying.  That has to count for something, right?”
..........I considered her words.  It still made me unhappy that what we were partaking in was still essentially an activity for teenagers who had yet to discover their way.  Then again, that was something I was behind on, so it was just as well.
..........“Come on,” she said, returning to her own two feet.  “Get up.”  She held out her gloved hand.  When I was slow to respond, she jiggled her hand.  “Get up!” she repeated with a smile.  I reached up and accepted her gentle tug.
..........The girl from earlier looked at us as she returned from a lap around the ice and smiled.  That prompted me to look at the center of the rink.  Joe Schmoe was, as they said these days, “hanging out”.  To be specific, it was with a woman.  To be even more specific, he was flirting with her, and she was flirting back.
..........“I wonder if we should interrupt,” I said.
......... .Mary Sue  followed my gaze and got the picture.  “Let’s.”
..........“Nah, I want to see where this goes.  No need to be impatient.”
..........“What was the point in asking, then?” asked Mary Sue.
..........“I made up my mind in-between asking and your answer,” I said.
..........“So we just skate around?” she said.
..........“Or you could teach me how to dance,” I suggested.
..........“You how to dance?” she guffawed.   “What makes you even think that I can do that?”
..........“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “You just seem to be perfect at everything.”
..........“Don’t stereotype me,” she said.  “My main talent is getting people to think I’m perfect at everything.  I just so happen to not know how to figure skate.”
..........“We have an eternity to live,” I said.  “We could always start now.”
..........Mary Sue smiled and nodded.  We then proceeded to give it a try.  I put my hand around her waist and held her left hand up with my spare.  We made a few movements, but fumbled at first.  I realized that this was actually very difficult because Mary Sue was a very tall woman, in fact just an inch taller than the average man.  The proportions weren’t quite right for us to get a true sense of elegance into the picture.
..........“Sorry,” I said.
..........“Cherish those little mistakes,” said Mary Sue.
..........Then we tried a move that failed on all levels and we found ourselves on our backs with no sense of balance.
..........“You’re going to ruin that suit if we keep this up!” she said.  She used my silver tie to pull herself up.  I wasn’t bothered whatsoever by the tightening around my neck, although I was aware that this looked weird.
..........“This suit has been through a lot,” I said.  “Besides, it’s just frozen water.”
..........Joe beckoned us over.  The blond woman he was with waved with him, smiling at us.  He must have said flattering things on our behalf.
..........“Hey Joe, it looks like you’re having a good time,” I said.  Wink wink.  Nudge nudge.
..........He laughed.  “Shut up!  I’d like you to meet Valerie.  Val – yes, we can all call her Val – these are my friends John and Mary.  I’ve known them, I kid you not, since before you were born.”
..........“You’re not that old,” said Valerie.
..........“I’m older than you.  How old are you anyway?”
..........Valerie opened her mouth wide.  “Oooooh…I cannot believe you just asked me that!”
..........“Um, but I did, and I don’t really care about age,” he said.  “Come on, it’s not like I told you that your dress makes you look fat, which, by the way, reminds me of Victorian-era dresses, which were actually pretty cool, and since I find you’re great-great grandmother’s fashion zingy that means I’m a pretty charming guy, so you’re just going to forgive me for a minor slip of the tongue because it will be worth it.”
..........“You know I wasn’t that offended, right?” she asked.
..........“You weren’t?  Okay, I knew that, but let’s say I didn’t.  I didn’t want to know your age anyway, because the moment you start revealing that sort of information it means that you’re a bit too comfortable with me, and the thing is that I’m a complete stranger and I live in another skate - I mean state - and there’s no way to make a long-term relationship work, although I’d love for you to hang out with us for a little while longer and call it a date just for the sake of our mutual enjoyment.”
..........“That went over my head.”
..........“Yeah, you were kind of intimidating there,” said Mary Sue.  “I’m just giving you some advice as a woman.”
..........“Sorry, I’m just guestimating that you’re thirty-five and have the maturity to match it, based on the conversation we just had, but it looks like I forgot about the incredible diversity and complexity of personal tastes.  But really, I’m just hoping to enjoy each other, eh?”  Joe shrugged and gave a crooked smile.  “Hey, we have a great time thought out.”
..........“We do?” I asked.
..........“You just had to not play along with that bluff, didn’t you?” joked Joe.
..........“No, it’s okay,” said Valerie.  “You’re pathetically trying to charm me and it’s working because the thought counts.  You must really want this.”
..........“Well…” began Joe.  “No.  Yes.  No.  Yes!  I don’t know.”
..........“I think it’s just been forever since he enjoyed the company of women friends,” I said, just to keep him afloat.  “Dude, it’s cool.  She’s fine with coming along.”
..........“It’s just that we’re on vacation and something’s missing,” said Joe.
..........“I completely understand,” I said.
..........“See, I was totally up for visiting the Roosevelt Park and Zoo later on because it’s a beautiful place at all times of the year, but you guys seemed uninterested so I wanted to make sure I had company who was.  Seriously, I’ve known you guys for so long that, frankly, you’re just too predictable.  I believe it.”
..........“I believe it,” I said, overlapping him.
..........Joe raised his eyebrows.  “See what I mean?  And Mary?  When I say ‘There’s too much snow out’ you say ‘Snow is a sacred and beautiful thing.’’’
..........“Snow is a sacred and beauti – hey!”
..........“Anyway, as we were saying,” he gestured to Valerie, “you guys were pretty cool figure skaters.  I appreciated your lack of talent whatsoever.  It’s far more entertaining.  Go on.”  He gestured to Valerie again.
..........“Well, I just think it’s great to goof up every once and a while.  I like it when people accept that they’re not perfect.  That’s not to call the Olympics stupid or anything, but what if I don’t care about getting something big done and just enjoy life?”
..........Mary and I looked at each other.  This would be an interesting perspective, perhaps just the right one to perform a catalyst for bigger ideas relevant to our discussion.
..........“Well, it seems you guys like the idea of company,” said Joe with a knowing wink.  “By the way, when I told you that I’m in the Air Force and that my major was engineering, I forgot to mention that my minor was criminal justice, and personally in case anything happens it’s just in your best interests to just call family and let them know where you’re going and so forth.  Like, here’s some information on me, which you should probably text to someone else.”  He took out his wallet.  I knew some of the information was faked, including the last name.  What was it this time?  Joe Little?  Then I also knew that he had over the course of his years majored in a couple of other things.
..........“Dude, it’s okay.  You’re not psycho.  We’re adults,” said Valerie.
..........“I know, but I’m very safety conscious and no matter how screwball I can get I’m sincere about following proper procedures,” said Joe.
..........“Oh, fine,” said Valerie.  She made a few calls, relayed Joe’s information to a few friends, gave them a physical description, and hooked her arm in Joe’s.
..........We spent some more time hanging out.  I was still a bit surprised as Joe’s luck with making quick friends.  In every regard he seemed to be a happy soldier.  If they were physically capable of having a long-term relationship, Valerie would have been a lucky woman indeed.  We had hot chocolate together when Mary Sue pulled me aside, putting some distance between us and Joe’s new business.
..........“It’s their date,” she said.
..........“It is, yes,” I acknowledged.
..........“So let’s do this for Joe.”
..........I didn’t answer.  Something was creeping at me.  I knew Joe.  No, not just a passing knowledge, but I knew him.  Our friendship went back for several generations.  Parents didn’t even understand their children the way I could with Joe, and my gut gurgled as I thought about the future.
..........I feared for him.



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The Immortals, chapter 1

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Literature Oct 22 2012 · 77 views
epic

Reentry


WE WERE IMMORTAL, BUT IT WASN'T A BLESSING.  My name is John Silver, and I have been John Silver for a while.  The only friends I have are old friends.  It’s very difficult to find anything to do anymore that seems worthwhile.  Yeah, it’s that sort of lifestyle.
..........The room was half lit and felt romantic.  I was relaxed, sitting next to the fire, politics in the back of my mind.  Beside me was another John, this one John Smith.  I had known him since the war of 1812.  Good times, save for the burning of the White House, then known as the executive mansion.  Back then we were both young, both unaware that we would live forever, and we thought that there was so much to live for.  At that point America’s independence was permanently established and we thought we could put our guns down forever.  Since then, we fought in the Civil War and both the World Wars.  Who knew?
..........Smith turned over in the couch.  I swear he had been sleeping for well over 24 hours.  It was the best he could do when he wasn’t allowed to die.  By the time the Vietnam War rolled around, the nation seemed to follow him and lost the will to fight.  I disagreed with him.  The spirit was still in me.  I fought one last war.  Since then recruitment has become stricter and I haven’t been able to create a fake identity as well, so I’ve stopped.  I wish I hadn’t.  Now that I’ve got out of the flow of things it’s hard to get back in.  So now I’m here on the same couch with Smith.
..........This is the French Retreat.  In spite of the name, there’s nothing French about it, and it’s set up in the beautiful hills of Montana.  To translate the name from Humor to Plain English, it means “the place where we retreat forever”, which the history of French warfare seemed to describe aptly.  This was where immortal people retired.  Few people ever stumbled upon it, which was good for us.  For the few outsiders that knew of the retreat’s physical existence, they just assumed that we were a secret society and were okay with any weird stories that surrounded the place.
..........I didn’t know if I liked it here.  It was quiet, certainly good for rest.  The view was good.  The architecture was beautiful, designed by a Chinese architect from the first century, who over the course of his life knew a few tricks.  The lounge, well, I just about lived in the lounge.  Nothing happened anymore.
Smith began to snore.
..........“Wake up,” I said.
..........I reached into the fireplace and grabbed a fistful of red embers.  I sprinkled them on his face.  He sniffed and began to spasm.  Some of the ashes fell off of his face and onto the leather couch, and I had to divert my attention to brushing those off.  No damage was done, thank goodness.
Smith slipped off the couch and got on all fours.  He looked like he was about to throw up, sounded like it too.  “Sore,” he said.
..........“That’s what you get for sleeping for twenty-four hours straight,” I said.
..........“Hey, it didn’t feel so bad while I was asleep,” he said, still on all fours.
..........“Shave up, buddy,” I said.  “I’m getting sick and tired of you sleeping.  We’re going out.  We’re doing something.”
..........He up looked at me.  “No,” he said.
..........A wild howl brewed up from the bottom of my throat.  I let it out, and with a burst of energy I kicked the wall.  Smith didn’t care.  There were only three other people in the lounge.  They looked my direction apathetically.  There was now a dent in the wall.  When you were immortal, you didn’t care.  Anger meant nothing.  It didn’t threaten anyone here.
..........“No?  What do you mean, ‘No’?”
..........“I said ‘No’ and I meant ‘No’ and ‘No’ is ‘no’ is ‘no’,” he said.
..........I picked him up and dragged him across the floor, out of the lounge, down the staircase, to the main level, and through the front door into the snow where I began kicking him.  He put up no resistance.  Eventually I wore out after three hours.  My breath was still with me, but the energy to hurt him had subsided.  Energy always subsides with enough time.
..........Smith made his way onto his own two feet and stretched his back.  “For what it’s worth, I’m not sore anymore,” he said.  He repositioned his shoulder and it snapped into place.  “I’ll see you inside once you get over this phase of yours.”
..........He began to make his way past me, but I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face, so hard that I broke his beck.  I propped his skull back in place just so he would heal and I could break his neck again.  He remained apathetic.
..........“You weren’t always like this,” I said.
..........“That’s what you told me back at ‘Nam,” he said.
..........“I was friends with you because you were somebody.  Look at you!  Now you’re nobody,” I said.  “You’re nothing but a back of bones.  You haven’t gone insane yet.  I know you’re still yourself.  I’ve known you for way too long to just give up on you.”
..........“There’s nothing left of me to believe in,” said Smith.
..........“At least carry some semblance of the person I knew,” I said.  “I’m talking to a blob who sits on the couch all day like someone just barely making his way through a hangover.  If I’m going to sit around and do nothing with you for the rest of eternity, I might as well do nothing with someone who has a personality.  At this point, there isn’t really anything likeable about you.”
..........“What’s the point to likeability, anyway?” said Smith.  “It’s just something we invent based upon our judgments on what’s worthwhile and what’s not.  I’m pretty sure that you don’t have a personality yourself once you get down to it.  It’s something you try hard to create and you fall back on it out of sheer habit.  I don’t know about you, but I think I’m being truer to humanity than anyone else, because I’ve reverted back to my purest form, the personality of an unborn bundle of joy.  All the personality I need it the occasional kick while sleeping.  So there.”
..........I let him go.  I wanted to punch him again, or send him flying through the glass front of the building, but it would do no good.  He would just heal over, get over it, and continue to not care.  We walked back inside.  He returned to the lounge, where I presume he continued to sleep.  I made my way down to my room and packed my stuff, then went to his room.  The door was unlocked.  Nobody locked their doors here.  When I returned to the lounge I stopped by the only other people there.  They looked at me.  They saw that I was dressed up.  They saw that I was carrying John Smith’s old tuxedo in its bag.
..........“Is anyone here willing to go out?  This place is nice.  It feels like home.  But it’s not where I want to stay a hundred percent of the time, so pardon me if I’m disturbing the peace.”
..........My other friend, Joe Schmoe, stood up and straightened out his shirt.  “That tux is a little outdated.  If you two go out, you’re going to need to go shopping.”
I scratched my head and looked over to the couch next to the fire where Smith had returned.  “Hey, Smith, do you mind if I throw this into the fire?”
..........“Go ahead,” he said.
..........“No really, I’m going to do it,” I said.
..........“I don’t care,” he said.
..........I paused and looked at Joe, eyebrows raised.  “Okay.”  I walked over to the fireplace and threw the old suit in.  A pity, since it was an antique.  I could have made good money off of it by selling it to a collector, but no.  I considered going downstairs and getting his Civil War uniform, but decided against it mostly because it would be too difficult to get rid of such a valuable item.  I walked back over to Joe and put my hand on his shoulder.  “Well, I guess I can count on you.”
..........“Glad you have some sense, so offense to anyone here,” said Joe.  He was like me, also a remnant from the eighteenth century.  The main difference was that he seemed better at getting past modern identity checks and applied for different branches of the military every twenty years.  Still, he had to be careful, and he had only been an officer once, and even then he only rose to the rank of captain by the end of his twenty years.  He was still out there and doing things.  “Just to make sure, though, are you really getting back into the swing of things or are you just saying this to vent?”
..........“No, I mean it this time,” I said, even though that was what I said the last time.  But I was sure, I was positively sure, that this time I would actually leave the front door and walk all the way to town.  I looked at the other two people at the table.  One was Uta-Napishti, perhaps the oldest person I had ever met.  The other was Mary Sue, who seemed to be mulling things over.
..........“My vacation’s only so long, so we’d better hurry,” said Joe.  “It’s glad to have someone come with, for once.”  He reached out and shook my hand, then excitedly ran out to the balcony and down the staircase, where he hit the ground and ran off in the direction of his cabin.
..........Now that it was official, I knew I had to pack, so I headed downstairs.  I didn’t pack a whole lot, mainly just clothes and my special razor that I used to shave my indestructible stubble.  Anything else I could either get from Joe or from a store.  Money wasn’t an issue for me.
..........When I got to the front door I expected Joe to be waiting for me, but he wasn’t.  I guess he had more to pack.  Well, I was over two hundred years old.  A little wait never hurt anyone.
..........After a few minutes I heard the front door open behind me.  Footsteps crunching through the snow, and then the physical presence of a friend by my side.  It was Mary Sue.  She had a coat on a bag of her own.
..........“Hey,” she said.  “I thought I would get some fresh air, too.”
..........I nodded, and then put my hands in my pockets, which was in stark contrast to the way she held her arms around herself.  “Do you need another coat?” I asked.  She was immortal purely by the virtue of not aging.  There were no healing powers or indestructibility to ease her comfort out here.
..........She nodded, so I dug out my leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
..........“Do you have any idea what you’re going to do?” she asked.
..........“No,” I said.  The wind blew at my hair.  I looked out at the elements, wondering what they had in store for me, wondering where on the horizon I belonged.
..........“Nothing?”
..........“Well I can’t very well just return to life as a soldier, so no,” I said.
..........We waited in silence for a few more beats, and then Joe showed up with a large assortment of bags.  “Mary, glad to see someone else is coming with.  I’ve never known you outside of the French Retreat.”
..........She pulled up her hood.  “Thanks.”
..........“Hey, guys, can you do me a favor and help me load this stuff into my SUV?”
..........We agreed.  It didn’t take too much time.  There was a bit of bragging going on over who could pack better.  Joe and I maintained that as longtime soldiers we were the best packers ever.  Mary Sue said that was nothing compared to her old-time womanly values.  Being gentleman, we let her take the credit for the neatness of the packing.  It was all a bit trivial, but it seemed to satisfy her a great deal.  Joe started the SUV and I called shotgun.
..........“Where are we going?” I asked.
..........Joe backed up.  “I don’t know.  Pull out the map.”
..........I checked the map in the glove compartment and unfolded it, always a messy endeavor.  “Someplace sunny, I’m thinking.  Maybe California.  What about Mexico?”
..........“No, wait, give me that!” said Mary Sue.  She wrestled the map from me.  “Those are terrible choices.  If we’re going to go anywhere, I’m going to call the shots, because you’re driving and you called shotgun,” she said to Joe and me.  “Alright, I like the looks of here.” She punched her finger onto the surface of the map and showed the location to Joe.
..........“Do you have any idea where you just pointed to?” he asked, shifting into forward gear.
..........“No.”



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Mickey's Diner

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Superman, Literature Oct 18 2012 · 79 views
Short Story
IT WAS OPEN 24 HOURS A DAY, 365 DAYS A YEAR.  There was ham, sausages, bacon, pancakes, waffles, everything a nostalgic fan of the 50's could ever want.  Neal Kaplen once said in the Metropolis Times that it had "Malts so thick you could eat them with a fork, hamburgers so juicy you can use a spoon, and waitresses so ornery you better know exactly what you want by the time they reach you."
..........As it happened, Lois knew before she looked at the menu that she wanted the Fresh Ground Coffee.
.........."You're a reporter, aren't you?" said the waitress, her name tag labeling her Jenny.
.........."The best there is," said Lois.  "So says my boss."
.........."Your boss a guy?" said Jenny.
.........."Yeah," said Lois.
.........."Probably because you're pretty, then," said Jenny.  "No lie, sometimes I'm sure I get tips because I'm attractive myself."
.........."Shouldn't you be busy getting me coffee?" prodded Lois.  She was a bit tired at the time and her voice was husky, but her face was sharp, demanding to be kept seriously.  The waitress corrected herself and went back into the kitchen.
..........She got her coffee, drank it dry, and repeated her order.  Clark was nowhere to be seen.  She wished he had told her what had come up.  On the other hand, she never specified the time to meet.  She shook her head.  More coffee.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  The best she could to with her time was to make use of the caffeine in her system and zoom in on the details of the newspaper she had with her.  She swore she waited for an hour, but when she looked at the clock it was only fifteen minutes before she saw Clark's giant glasses making their way across the street.  He almost got hit by a car along the way.  He readjusted the glasses, bowed, and apologized.  Lois looked on almost apathetically, used to the sight.
..........He bumped open the door and removed his hat once inside.
.........."I'd like a - " he began.
.........."More coffee," interrupted Lois.  She tapped her cup.  The waitress took it.
..........Clark looked around the diner, observed the seats, the counter, the waitress, and the food like he was a kid in a toy store.  "You know, I've always liked the 50's.  The food, the fashion, the television shows, it all kind of reminds me of family.  On that thought, my favorite actress was Noel Niell.  I loved her."
..........Oh, the small talk.  It was completely out of character when they were both reporters.  Lois looked at the manuscript folded up in her purse.  She picked it out, unfolded it, and pondered the contents.  "Ah, heck, I might as well give this to you right now," said Lois.
..........Clark took the papers, unfolded them, and speed-read his way through.
.........."Hm."  Just that, hm.
.........."Well?" said Lois.  "Anything else?"
.........."It's a very tall claim," said Clark, looking up.  "Never mind that for now, though.  You are aware that spell-check doesn't catch everything, right?"
.........."Oh shut up," said Lois.  "Flatter me.  Overlook the flaws."
.........."I just thought I'd mention it, because I'm trying to be helpful," said Clark.  "It's called constructive criticism."
.........."Yes, but I want you to appeal to my ego.  I'm on an ego trip right now and there's no way you're taking me down," said Lois.
.........."It's a marvelous story, then," said Clark.  "I'm very happy for you.  From here on things are swell - "
.........."Oh please, not that word again."
.........."Sorry," said Clark.  "Now the main thing that stands out to me, other than the subject previously alluded to but since relegated to the category of unspoken subjects, is the title."
..........Lois opened her mouth as if to take offense, as his tone was doubtful.  "What about it?  It's an awesome title!"
.........."'My Date with Superman?'"  Many wrinkles appeared on Clark's forehead.
..........The waitress intervened with the coffee.  Clark grabbed a cup without looking at it and continued to maintain eye contact with Lois, both of them looking incredulous with each other.
.........."Rule number one, buddy: headlines have the catch the eye.  What about this doesn't scream to be read?" asked Lois.
..........Clark sipped his coffee.  "Well, that's the thing.  By phrasing it that way everybody knows that you are romantically involved with the most powerful man in the world.  Now say you were to report that Superman chose to reveal personal details to you for the benefit of the public, but were to leave the elements that qualify this encounter as a date ambiguous.  See, the details of who Superman is are the things the public ought to know.  They ought to know that he's an alien from the planet Zenon - "
.........."Krypton," said Lois.
.........."Is that really its name?  Really?"
.........."Is the big S on his chest really his family crest?" countered Lois, like it was a rhetorical question.
.........."That seems awfully contrived to be a coincidence," said Clark.
.........."Clark, you trust me, don't you?" said Lois.  "Really, you've always assumed the best in people.  I'm not lying.  This is what he told me, and I know he was telling the truth."
..........Clark blushed.  Lois wasn't sure why.  Then he finished his coffee.  "Just promise me one thing.  Keep the title, because it is an eye-catcher, but quickly downplay it.  I mean, that's personal information.  You can afford to be slightly deceptive on it."
.........."I find it hard to believe that you would support something like that," said Lois.  "Isn't that still dishonesty?"
.........."No it's just..." Clark paused to look for the right words.  "Letting people to follow their natural tendency to look but not see.  The point is, I care for you.  I don't want to see you get hurt.  Is it possible that you could publish it anonymously?  Just Perry White and I would have to know."
..........Those words hit Lois harder than she was willing to let on, but she unwillingly let on everything by dropping into silence and staring at her coffee cup.  It hurt her to actually consider the possibility of publishing what could be the biggest article of her life anonymously.  He was treating her like someone who needed to go into the witness protection program, which if she went through with her plans could very well be the case.
..........The swirling white top of her coffee wasn't giving her any answers.
.........."What if..." she couldn't think of anything.  She had no convincing counter-argument, and it was killing her.  "I mean, uggghhh..."  She certainly knew what she wanted.  Yet, she had to admit, it was kind of selfish.  Yet the more she thought about it, the more she had to admit, she was scared.  She wanted the spotlight, but what would happen if she really got it?  Yes, it would open doors, give her opportunities to really make a difference as a reporter.  She would be important.  All it took was a willingness to sacrifice some of her safety.
.........."It's okay, Lois, at least you're getting the truth out there," said Clark.  "This is a man who's changing the world.  What matters is that he's expressing himself and you're there for him."  He put his hand on her wrist.
.........."I hate it when you're right," said Lois.  She was secretly very angry with him.  Why did he have to be like her father?  Why did he have to be so concerned with her safety?  She couldn't dwell on that anymore, though.  It was time to put the discussion back on her terms.  "So I'm pretty sure I'm pleased with the way I organized the paper.  I mean, I figured when he first appeared last Christmas, the two biggest questions on people's minds were 'How can he do all those things' and 'What's up with the underpants on the outside'? I figured it was best to just answer both of them at the same time.  The way I see it, he's a supreme alien from Krypton; he can wear whatever he wants."
..........Clark chuckles, almost spilling over his coffee.
.........."But seriously, that's how they dress where he comes from," said Lois.
..........Clark put the papers on the counter and looked straight at her, smiling.  "That's swe - uh, that's sweet.  No, I was laughing for completely different reasons.  Your organization, by the way, is fine, just fine.  I have no complaints.  Asides from typos, you're the world's best reporter."
.........."Yeah, well, I guess that explains why the Daily Planet's circulation is down," said Lois.  It made her blood boil just thinking about it.  "That villain Lex Luthor's declaring a personal war on us because we published some critique on him.  Things would be going completely the other way if I actually had proof that he's a white collar criminal."
.........."Don't worry.  We'll come back out on top," said Clark.
.........."And the thing is, most of the public is afraid of Superman because he has the other newspapers attack him," said Lois.  "There needs to be just one article out there that shows him for who he truly is.  And I believe him, by the way.  I believe I met the real man.  He has his secrets, I guess, who doesn't?  But he's still honest.  I don't know everything, but I know what's important.  He's a good man, and when he says that he's just here to be a friend I think he really means it."
..........Clark looked at his cup.  "I think I've had enough coffee."
.........."I haven't," said Lois.
.........."Once you're done, I think we'd better leave.  I mean, we'd be taking up this space and we'd kind of be loitering."
.........."Clark, you're paranoid," said Lois.  "Nobody's cramming to get in here."
.........."Are you sure?  I mean, it's a pretty nice place," said Clark.
.........."Have you looked out the window?  It's just a bad day for business."
.........."Okay, Lois," said Clark, withdrawing.
.........."See?  I'm always right," said Lois.  "Except when I'm wrong."  Clark's eyebrows raised and he looked at her expectantly.  "Okay,  I was wrong just a moment ago.  But that doesn't count."
.........."Statistically speaking, you're still generally right," said Clark.
..........Lois smiled without knowing why.  Again, it was the same smile she had on the rooftop with Superman.  What was with that?
..........Jenny walked up to them and put her hands on her hips.  "Are you two lovers done yet?  I can't have you two taking up space here."
..........Lois looked at her and gave her an indignant look.  "Excuse me?"  Clark at once averted his gaze and scratched the back of his neck like a turtle pulling its head into its shell.  Goodness gracious, if he wasn't going to be any help, Lois would just have to pretend that she didn't know him.
.........."It's called loitering," said Jenny.
.........."Well I haven't received my next coffee yet," said Lois.
.........."You've been drinking coffee all day!"
.........."Twenty minutes," said Lois.
..........Clark got up.
.........."Clark, sit down!" said Lois.
.........."Uh, Lois, I've had enough coffee.  I can go," he said.
.........."No, I invited you here and our business isn't finished yet!" said Lois.
.........."Lois..."
.........."Don't 'Lois' me!"
.........."Lois?"
.........."Lois!" said Jenny.
.........."Hey, you're not on a first-name basis with me, Jenny," shot Lois.
.........."I'm sure we can discuss this at a different time," said Clark.
.........."That's it, you're out of here!" said Jenny.  "I am officially telling you to get out!"
..........Clark grabbed the papers off the counter and immediately left.  Lois couldn't believe he was chickening out just like that.  On second thought, yes, she could definitely believe it.  Lois lost her will to stay and fight, since her reason for coming in the first place had just walked out the door.  She followed him onto the street.  He was sitting on the curb with the papers in hand.  She sat next to him.
.........."I'm sorry," said Clark.
.........."You don't have anything to be sorry for," said Lois.  She looked behind her to glance through the window of Mickey's Diner.  Nobody had taken their seats.  Jenny had no one to serve.  "It was mostly that waitress's fault."
.........."It wasn't her fault either.  I'm just - I'm just sorry," said Clark.
.........."Clark, why don't you just come out and say it was me?" said Lois.  "You're always blaming yourself for everything because you're too afraid of inflicting judgment on anyone.  Come on, be a reporter!  Have some guts!  Say it!"
.........."Lois, you were just being yourself," said Clark.  "And you're so secure with who you are.  I don't want to take that away from you."
.........."Part of me being me is that I'm pretty used to people calling me out on things," said Lois.  She put her hands on his to get his full attention.  The paper rustled as his grip loosened.  "Clark, can you do me a favor?"
.........."If you need one," said Clark.
.........."Just say yes," said Lois.
.........."Yes."
.........."I'd like you to be completely honest with me.  Call me out when I'm going too far, like when I was going to tell the world that I dated Superman," she said.
..........Clark just looked at her haplessly.
.........."As a friend," said Lois.  "I trust you."
..........Clark sighed.  He handed the manuscript to her and began walking across the street.  There was a break in the traffic and the opportunity was perfect.  Lois got up and didn't let him leave her side.  To her satisfaction he wasn't sulking.  He was genuinely deep in thought and stayed silent for a while.  Finally, "I'm trying to imagine what that would be like."
.........."Don't think about it.  Just know that it will be better."
.........."I know," said Clark.
..........They walked shoulder-to-shoulder as the returned to the Daily Planet.



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Autumn Phantom

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Literature Oct 14 2012 · 105 views
poem, poetry

The moment arrived to sit on the curb

To become one with the frail autumn leaves

Alone, away from all the rest, to rest

Never to let them see what could disturb

A man who walks with his back to the breeze


Away, away, to hold communion here

With the dried remains of the Earth's substance

With the still October air, with an air

Of Death, which in earnest speaks in my ear

How the door I seek is not an entrance


Avant!  Alas!  The grimmer days I've found!

The winds of change no more upon my back

Taunted by the whispers I hear, and here

I stand upon the great tomb of the ground

When the winds of time call to raise attack


I could have found my friends and laughed away

My days, I could have grown to be a man

I am not a man but a boy, and boy

When I'm done feigning my strength for the day

Weakness spurs up from the underground clan


You see not the patient one without fear

But a man who chases his favorite

Shadows, calls him brother, calls her mother

Sister, father, family, darling, dear

A man a great distance from his spirits


One day my family will come, one day

They will smile for me, they will comfort me

I will come back home to it, talk to it

No longer will it be a phantom, nay

But peace of Earth so my soul shall walk free!





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On The Planet's Roof

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Superman, Literature Oct 07 2012 · 75 views
short story
LOIS SCURRIED DOWN FROM THE ROOF.  Some heads turned.  Everyone seemed to notice her excitement, save for Clark, who was too busy working on his economics article to take note.  She sat down in her desk directly across from him and typed on her computer with a satisfied smile.  The rapid sound of keys filled the otherwise silent room for a full minute.
..........Clark finally looked up.  "Lois, do you want me to proofread your work?"
.........."What?  No," said Lois.  Of course not.  This was too good for anyone to see until she was done.
..........Clark leaned over the desk space between them.  Lois stopped smiling and glared at him.  "I've never seen you so enthusiastic to work.  Wasn't your normal typing rate forty words per minute last I checked?"
..........Lois let her hands rest.  "Clark, you'll find out later.  Let's just say I scored gold on something."
.........."On the rooftop?"
..........Lois eyed him.  Clark was the most mild-mannered reporter she knew, and yet there was no one else on Earth more frustrating.  Although she could tell that the curiosities of other reporters had been piqued the moment she entered the office, only Clark seemed to have the guts to press any questions.
..........She held her tongue for a beat, or rather, her lower lip, which she tucked under her upper teeth as she eyed Clark.  "Yes, on the roof."  No point in denying that much.
.........."You must have seen something pretty incredible," said Clark.
.........."Yep.  Sure did," said Lois.  She returned to her typing, yet she maintained eye contact with Clark in some sort of staring contest.
.........."Whatever it was, given your spelling problems, which are already terrible, you're probably going to misspell half your words at this rate," said Clark.
..........Lois briefly broke the staring context to look down at her screen.  Sure enough, half the words were underlined in red squiggles.  Bullocks.  "I have spell-check on my side," she said.
.........."You might still want some peer revision," said Clark.
.........."Nope.  I have Chief to do that for me," said Lois, almost bursting at this point as she switched from the defense to her normal prideful state.  Clark only responded with the facial equivalent of a shrug.
..........From the other end of the office, editor-in chief Perry White rang out "Don't call me 'Chief!'"
..........Lois and Clark looked around and froze for a moment.  As animation returned to their bodies, they turned back to each other and for a moment, neither saying nor expressing anything.  Then, in unison, they laughed.
..........When Clark regained his composure, he sighed and returned to his work.  "I admire you ability to multitask, by the way."
..........Lois smiled to herself as she continued to write her article at top speeds.  For whatever reason - she didn't understand why - it wasn't a smirk, but a real smile, the same she had felt come to her eyes when she was on the rooftop.  "Thanks," she said.
..........When she glanced up, Clark was back at his work, adjusting his glasses and reading over his economics report.  When he noticed her looking at him, he smiled, or at least tried.  Suddenly she was struck at how sad he looked.  "It's just something I wish I could do better."
..........Clark returned to focus, but Lois was almost certain she saw him give something of himself away.  She knew it was none of her business, but she was a reporter.  She took note on everything.  Clark was more complex than people gave him credit for.  Most people were, as a general principle.  Lois stopped typing as new curiosities popped into her mind.  Her article could wait.
..........She averted her eyes away from Clark now and opened up a new document, the one where she kept a list of all her unanswered questions.  She typed a new bullet point: "What makes Clark sad?"  She saved and exited.  The document that was mostly red squiggles returned to the front of the screen.
..........The sound of clicking keys that filled the silence now belonged to Clark.
.........."Hey, Clark, do you have any friends?" asked Lois.
..........Clark stopped typing.  "I have my mother, and when I was in high school I had a friend named Pete Ross."
.........."No, I mean friends right now."
.........."Well I have you, Lois."  He said it with a straight face.
.........."You have got to be kidding me!" said Lois.  "I'm terrible to you.  I'm a brat.  I treat you like nothing."
.........."You're a greater hero for me than you give yourself credit for," said Clark.  "You're all those things, but you put up with me all the same.  Whenever you have a rant, you come to me first.  And let's not forget, we make an awesome team.  Remember when we investigated to see if Lex Luthor was twisting the arm of Senator Jennings?"
.........."Clark, the only reason I took you with me was because Chie - " she caught herself and cast a glance to Perry White's office, "Because Perry think we're perfect.  That, and you tripped and ruined everything for me.  Some team, huh?"
.........."Well, to my understanding you were pushing the boundaries of honest reporting anyway," said Clark.  "And you admitted as much."
..........Lois lifted a paperwieght and feigned a toss at Clark.  He flinched.  "Yeah, well I still would have had the ultimate story."
.........."Even better than the one you have right now?" asked Clark.
..........It was now Lois's turn to flinch.  "You changed the subject on me."
.........."I did?"
.........."Yes, Clark, you did, and it was totally a reporterly thing to do," said Lois.
.........."Sorry.  I should get back to my own article," said Clark.
.........."Wait, you can get that thing done in two minutes flat.  How fast can you type anyway?"
.........."Over nine thousand, when you're not looking."
..........Lois chuckled, cuaght off guard.  She didn't expect Clark to be the type of person to make that kind of reference.  "Okay, how about when I am looking?"
.........."Four hundred words per minute with ninety-eight percent accuracy," said Clark.
.........."See?  So at that rate you could get your boring business article done in a few minutes, plus a few extra just to organize your thoughts, but you're a genius anyway so it shouldn't take too long.  I can't imagine you'd be a busy person," said Lois.
..........Clark looked like he was struggling for a response.  In the end, he said nothing, just returned to his report.
.........."No, don't you do that to me," said Lois.  "Clark?  Clark!  C'mon, let's just talk.  What do you say to visiting Mickey's Diner?"  When he looked up at her she realized what she had said.  "No, not as a date.  Don't let that enter your mind.  As a friend.  As a coworker, because that's what coworkers do."
.........."Lois, no need to be defensive.  I asked you there the first day I met you, remember?  I understand," said Clark.
..........That was right.  Lois remembered sitting across from him and sharing with him her ambitions.  He had sat there, eating his food, taking it all in, and every once and a while threw in his little bits of Midwest wisdom.  Now that she thought about it, he had been awfully nice to her.  Maybe it was time she returned the favor.
.........."Well, it's a little more than that.  I met someone recently, someone with a heart of gold, someone kind, and he's sort of inspired me," said Lois.  "I want to be more like him, and this is the sort of thing he would do."
.........."'Whatever you do for the least of these you do unto me?'" quoted Clark.
.........."Uh, yeah, I see your reasoning there," said Lois.  "He would totally like you, by the way."
.........."I'm going to pretend I have no idea who you're talking about at this point," said Clark with a wry smile.
..........Lois closed her tight and scrunched up her face.  "Stupid...I can't believe I gave myself away there."  She let her face relax and took a deep breath.  "Yes, I guess I might as well share that with you, anyway.  We're friends, after all, like you said.  And Clark?"
.........."Yes?"
.........."You can proofread my paper when we get there."
..........Clark smiled with his eyes, but then his eyes went completely out of focus.  "Sorry, Lois, something just came up.  I have to go!  Sorry!"  He turned off his computer and jolted out of the office, leaving his roller chair spinning and Lois surprised.  What was with that Clark Kent?
..........Lois rested her cheek on one hand and sat there for a while, staring into the distance.  Her thoughts occasionally shifted back to her article, but Clark returned to her mind again and again, so much so that it surprised her.  He was an odd character, but maybe it was worth accepting Clark as her friend.
..........Then something came to her.  Her journalistic instincts came back, and she opened up her bullet list again to add her latest question.
.........."What's with that Clark Kent?"


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Ray Bradbury's Philosophy

Posted by Jean Valjean , in Wisdom, Literature Sep 20 2012 · 69 views
literature, wisdom
:kaukau: One of my favorite books is Fahrenheit 451.  There are plenty of books out there, bundles of paper with words on them, that have good stories, but this is one of the few that really tackles what the art of story is all about, especially within its respective genre of science fiction.  Being a philosopher by nature, works like these are the ones that appeal to me.  It really gets me thinking about why I read and why I look to the art of story, why it's one of the few things that we as a society still believe in, because it's not enough for me to be entertained but to know why I'm being entertained.

One of my favorite parts is when Professor Faber describes books and what's so special about them.  It's not just the paper, but what's in them.  They have quality information.  They have ideas.  They provoke thought.  All these qualities dry out in the form of ink on paper, and since paper is more patient than man it gives us the gift of leisure.  Leisure to digest our knowledge, leisure to analyze new ideas, leisure argue with the book, to beat down the book, or to stop the book halfway through and reread a favorite passage.  Where's the humanity in just taking in data and storing it?  We're not meant to be that passive.  The author dedicated his or her time to making something that will provoke the reader, not just so that the story could exist as a meaningless jumble of words that describe a meaningless jumble of events.  Therefore, the reader shouldn't get lost in the book but use the book to bolster their own sense of individuality.  No good work can exist purely for entertainment value, because then we must ask "what is entertainment?"  Is it merely passive observation, because when you get down to it a story is just a bundle of events, or is it something more?  I'm inclined to believe in the latter, that there's a reason why we find stories entertaining, why we love it when the knight slays the dragon and the princess outsmarts the villain, because those ideas mean something to us.  Somewhere in the back of our minds we apply that reading to ourselves, and even the simplest entertainment, such as the victories of the knight and the princess, trigger some sort of thought such as "I believe I could do that."

In a more recent edition of the book, there's also an interesting critique from the author Ray Bradbury in an interview, one that I have often thought back to when critiquing art:

Interviewer: There seems to have been a decline in standards of journalistic objectivity, to put it mildly.

Bradbury: It's not just substance; it's style. The whole problem of TV and movies today is summed up for me by the film Moulin Rouge. It came out a few years ago and won a lot of awards. It has 4,560 half second clips in it. The camera never stops and holds still. So it clicks off your thinking; you can't think when you have things bombarding you like that. The average TV commercial of sixty seconds has one hundred and twenty half second clips in it, or one third of a second. We bombard people with sensation. That substitutes for our thinking.


I remembered this answer while pondering how to describe the style Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance".  Listening through it several times, I noticed the complexity of the background music.  I couldn't pick out any instruments; it was a blanket of white noise, an overwhelming digital atmosphere.  Of course, I think that makes the song popular, and I don't think it devalues the song.  The more I listen to it, the more I actually like it.  Atmospheric music, after all, doesn't necessarily negate thinking and it has its purposes.  Some would say that the point of music is to satisfy the senses.

Yet Bradbury's ideas came back to me, and I remember the importance of this philosophy.  It hit me again when I discovered Fun's acoustic version to "We Are Young".  I loved the original and considered it a masterpiece of exciting quality music that bucks the trend of contemporary chart songs, but I fell in love again when I discovered their far humbler rendition.  I like how the emotional quality is so different than the main version. The meaning comes out in a new way, especially when I can hear the imperfections in their voice.  It's a paradox, but in this case an imperfect voice is the perfect voice, for it's truer, more human.  It means that the song doesn't exist just to sound pretty, but has a purpose.  Then I hear the slower tempo, the personality behind the voices, their understanding of their own art, and even though I was happy with the original with all its jubilation and positive energy, even though this version wasn't really needed, the world of chart hits is better off for it.

These thoughts I take with me as I pursue my various arts.  It's a big world out there and I don't want to waste any moment of my life dedicating myself to smaller arts.  From my drawings to my stories to my poetry, hopefully I build works that carry some small fire of relevance.  Maybe I will never light a cauldron like great writers such as C.S. Lewis did, but maybe I can relay the torch to the runner who will.

Special thanks to my cousin for being a friend and fellow traveler.


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How is this plagiarism?

Posted by Jean Valjean , in School, Literature Sep 12 2012 · 157 views
school, literature
:kaukau: I was told to write a brief testimony in class starting with the phrase "Life hit me hard when".  The teacher said it was okay to write something fictional if we didn't feel like sharing our actual experiences.  So I wrote a note at the beginning of my writing:

"The following journal entry is a fictional account, due to the author's current inability to express his own feelings directly.  Instead, he has opted to write about the feelings of an imaginary individual whose experiences and emotions he shares in a more general sense."


I wrote the rest up in five minutes.  In-class writing is so much easier when you have a keyboard at hand.  Anyway, the next time class met she handed the writing back to me and told me that she thought it was plagiarized because it didn't sound like the way I normally talk.  Dude, how is she supposed to know?  I hardly talk in her class, let alone in the way that I normally would have talked when in my own element.  Meanwhile, the fictional account comes from the perspective of someone who's writing her thoughts on paper, which is far more patient than man.  I think that our thoughts naturally come out differently on paper than when we express ourselves verbally.  Just saying.  The language I used didn't seem all that unnatural to me, but she kept on emphasizing that I be natural.  Well, I got a perfect grade on that miniature assignment anyway, so I'm guessing she was just looking for something to criticize.

Anyway, this little bit of literature is based off of a character of mine, Nixie from the IDES continuity (not that anyone has been keeping track), and I wrote it thinking that I was going to share it with you guys anyway.  Enjoy!



Dear Journal,

Life hit me hard when my parents got divorced.  I was lucky I was eleven and old enough to appreciate the reasons.  My poor brother Mickey never heard of the concept before.  To imagine Mother and Father officially apart must have been alien to him.  I at least saw it coming.  Dad was never around home.  He was married to his work.  I guess he loved us in his own way, but he was silent and didn't talk to us.  The most I ever saw of him was around the holidays, but even then he was a man of few words. He would mostly let Mom talk to us, and when he spoke on his own it was usually only to solve disputes between me and Mickey.


It still hurt that he didn't know how to love us in the way that we wanted.  I love him, too, but I just don't know how to have a relationship with him.  He's a very smart man, so in part I found that I could connect with him.  In some unspoken way, he understood me, understood my desire to learn, to sharpen my mind.  Mom understood, too, but in a factual way, like it was cute, but it wasn't a reality she shared with me first-hand.  With Dad, I guess he saw a bit of himself in me.  I didn't know how to acknowledge that and still don't.  I'm definitely different and set apart from him, but he's a fundamental part of my existence, half the story to my very origins in this universe.  Yet, I can't have a relationship with him?


The saddest thing is that things aren't very different.  I don't live with him anymore, but I still see him just as often.  he and Mom merely live in different houses.  The biggest change is that I don't get to see Mickey at home anymore.  Now I have to look him in the eye and know that I get to live with Mom's attention and he doesn't, that his life at home is empty and lonely.  Then i can't help but wonder if it would have been better if we switched places, for he surely needs mom more than I do, and if anyone can feel a bond with Dad it's me.  How can I be a comfort to Mickey?  When I go to school, will I be his proxy mother?  I'm too young to be feeling this much nostalgia for a simpler life.


Love,

Nixie


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Username: Emperor Kraggh
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