A nightmare was in the left turn lane next to me
636 ghosts were at the wheel
I turned up the volume of the apathy
Kept my eyes on the road
It revved its hellborn engine
Poured thick black exhaust
My nerves broke
I looked over at the driver
Her seductive eyes as red as the unchanging light
She smiled at me with teeth that have devoured 94 hearts
I looked away again
Gritted my teeth
The light turned green
My knuckles turned white
I threw it into first
Slammed the pedal into the floor
And left her behind
ABOUT THE BLOG:
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Working the Late Shift
He watched as a subgalactic whaleshark breached the dark matter veil. It twirled in the vacuum of space as it emerged, flinging subatomic particles off of its five-dimensional dorsal fin. As it dove back out of the timestream, the chronal splash tore millions of black holes in the reality pool, which dissipated immediately before they began.
The watchman yawned.
It wasn't exactly a rare occurrence to see that species out there. The Andromeda XIV Cosmic Observatory was stationed on the moon of a gas giant that orbited right off of their migration axis, and the watchman had been working the night shift long enough that the local cosmofauna no longer held his attention as it used to. He straightened the back of his chair so that he was sitting upright, and with a click on his control panel, he hovered to the edge of the observation dome, where the central computer was located. He began to recite his observations to the monitors, detailing the whaleshark and the time and location of sighting. He then sighed, lifted his glasses from his face, and rubbed his forehead with his fingers in an attempt to rid himself of his boredom-induced headache. He returned his chair to the center of the room once more, laid back, and stared out the observation dome once again.
There was a flash of brilliant blue light and a sound like a band-aid being torn off. The watchman sat back up casually and looked to his left.
"Hello Ajax," the watchman said to the man that was now standing in the observation dome next to him. He wore a white jumpsuit with plated armor over it. He held a strange looking gun, which he looked down at, and then clicked a dial a few notches counter-clockwise before holstering it.
"Are you really so jaded," Ajax said, "that seeing yourself from the future doesn't amaze you?"
"Maybe if you'd stop visiting so often it would be more exciting," the watchman said.
Ajax sighed. "Isn't it about time for your break?"
Annoyed, the watchman glared at him and then entered a code on his control panel. The screens in the observation deck turned off and the door opened with a hiss of compressed air. The watchman stood up and walked out, and Ajax followed.
"What do you want this time?" the watchman groaned as they entered the cafeteria.
"I want to change you, same as I always have," Ajax said as they took a seat in the deserted room. "I want you to see how important this is. I want you to turn out better than I did."
"Well, considering that you're me," the watchman said with a roll of his eyes, "I don't think that you're going to have much luck with that. I'm going to turn out to be you."
"You sure about that? I wouldn't claim to know a lot about time travel, considering it hasn't been invented yet."
The watchman took a cup of copy from the android waitress and sipped it in silence.
"So are you going to collect on your promise you made?" the watchman asked.
"Yes."
"So you're going to kill me. Because I wouldn't 'cheer up.'"
"Yes I am," Ajax said as he pulled out his gun. He clicked the dial clockwise a few notches. "Unless you can be persuaded."
"Persuaded of what? That this job doesn't suck? That my life isn't meaningless and repetitive?"
"The job is what you make of it. And life is a precious thing."
"I don't need to be lectured by myself," the watchman said.
"Apparently you do. I never forgot that whaleshark you saw today," Ajax pleaded. "That was a beautiful thing. To not find joy that is to waste what you've been given."
"So you're going to kill me for it? And won't this kill you too?"
"Not growing is the same thing as being dead." Ajax lifted the gun and pointed it at the watchman's forehead.
"And stop thinking you understand time travel."
Ajax pulled the trigger and the watchman erupted in a flash of cerulean radiation. Ajax stood up calmly, picked up his coffee, and walked toward the cafeteria exit. He stopped as he reached the door and pulled his gun out its holster, then tossed it into a garbage can. The door slid open with a hiss and he entered the observation dome. He sat down in his chair and punched in a code on the control panel and the screens came back on. As the chair hovered back to the center of the room, Ajax reclined and looked up out of the dome.
As he watched, a dark nebula tarantula emerged from its hiding place behind a cloud of gamma photons to devour the cometbird that it had caught in its bosonic web.
"I love this job," said the watchman.
The watchman yawned.
It wasn't exactly a rare occurrence to see that species out there. The Andromeda XIV Cosmic Observatory was stationed on the moon of a gas giant that orbited right off of their migration axis, and the watchman had been working the night shift long enough that the local cosmofauna no longer held his attention as it used to. He straightened the back of his chair so that he was sitting upright, and with a click on his control panel, he hovered to the edge of the observation dome, where the central computer was located. He began to recite his observations to the monitors, detailing the whaleshark and the time and location of sighting. He then sighed, lifted his glasses from his face, and rubbed his forehead with his fingers in an attempt to rid himself of his boredom-induced headache. He returned his chair to the center of the room once more, laid back, and stared out the observation dome once again.
There was a flash of brilliant blue light and a sound like a band-aid being torn off. The watchman sat back up casually and looked to his left.
"Hello Ajax," the watchman said to the man that was now standing in the observation dome next to him. He wore a white jumpsuit with plated armor over it. He held a strange looking gun, which he looked down at, and then clicked a dial a few notches counter-clockwise before holstering it.
"Are you really so jaded," Ajax said, "that seeing yourself from the future doesn't amaze you?"
"Maybe if you'd stop visiting so often it would be more exciting," the watchman said.
Ajax sighed. "Isn't it about time for your break?"
Annoyed, the watchman glared at him and then entered a code on his control panel. The screens in the observation deck turned off and the door opened with a hiss of compressed air. The watchman stood up and walked out, and Ajax followed.
"What do you want this time?" the watchman groaned as they entered the cafeteria.
"I want to change you, same as I always have," Ajax said as they took a seat in the deserted room. "I want you to see how important this is. I want you to turn out better than I did."
"Well, considering that you're me," the watchman said with a roll of his eyes, "I don't think that you're going to have much luck with that. I'm going to turn out to be you."
"You sure about that? I wouldn't claim to know a lot about time travel, considering it hasn't been invented yet."
The watchman took a cup of copy from the android waitress and sipped it in silence.
"So are you going to collect on your promise you made?" the watchman asked.
"Yes."
"So you're going to kill me. Because I wouldn't 'cheer up.'"
"Yes I am," Ajax said as he pulled out his gun. He clicked the dial clockwise a few notches. "Unless you can be persuaded."
"Persuaded of what? That this job doesn't suck? That my life isn't meaningless and repetitive?"
"The job is what you make of it. And life is a precious thing."
"I don't need to be lectured by myself," the watchman said.
"Apparently you do. I never forgot that whaleshark you saw today," Ajax pleaded. "That was a beautiful thing. To not find joy that is to waste what you've been given."
"So you're going to kill me for it? And won't this kill you too?"
"Not growing is the same thing as being dead." Ajax lifted the gun and pointed it at the watchman's forehead.
"And stop thinking you understand time travel."
Ajax pulled the trigger and the watchman erupted in a flash of cerulean radiation. Ajax stood up calmly, picked up his coffee, and walked toward the cafeteria exit. He stopped as he reached the door and pulled his gun out its holster, then tossed it into a garbage can. The door slid open with a hiss and he entered the observation dome. He sat down in his chair and punched in a code on the control panel and the screens came back on. As the chair hovered back to the center of the room, Ajax reclined and looked up out of the dome.
As he watched, a dark nebula tarantula emerged from its hiding place behind a cloud of gamma photons to devour the cometbird that it had caught in its bosonic web.
"I love this job," said the watchman.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Night Skies
There were two skies that night, and both were filled with stars. The one above—static and reassuring—and the one below—a fluid and uncertain reflection, destroying itself and reforming as it crashed against the Corinthian cliffs.
“I couldn’t save her,” the weary man said.
“I know,” said the woman in the flowing robes. Her tattered garments danced in the wind, giving her an appearance as ever-changing as that of the sky below. “But you can do nothing about that now.”
“I need answers, Pythia!” the chiseled and bearded man demanded. “I must know why.”
“You are not asking the correct questions, hero.”
“I don’t care. I have to know. Why would the gods give me all of my strength—surpassing that of any other man!—and make it still not enough?”
“I am but a guide for the way forward. I am not an interpreter of history.”
The man sat silent. As he looked up, a comet flew passed a galaxy. In the sky above, its tail was a clean and confident arc. Below, an aimless line tossed at the whims of black waves.
“I’ve been told that I will be among the stars someday. Is that true?”
“It could be,” said the servant of Apollo.
His eyes fell slowly below the horizon, and the bearded man examined the ambiguity of the sky below as he ran his fingers—thick and calloused with violence—through his curly black hair.
“I killed her,” he said quietly after a long while.
“I know,” she whispered.
“I don’t know how or why. But I did.”
Tears began to run down his cheeks in torrents that glittered with the images of stars.
“I couldn’t control it. I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember not being in control. I know it happened. I know it was me. But somehow…”
He wiped the back of his hand across his face and looked up at the woman in the flowing robe.
“Somehow I know it wasn’t my fault.”
The man looked at the sky above. Photons bounce off his retina that came from a star that had died before the world was born.
The man looked at the sky below. He felt the cool salty mist against his cheeks as a nebula exploded into a billion droplets against the cliff.
“It’s your choice,” said the woman. “You may remember.” She motioned to the sky above. “Or you may find what lies ahead.” She motioned to the sky below.
He stood and removed his clothes.
He breathed in.
He breathed out.
He dove off the cliff.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)