Lugubrious Vol. 1

Popped - 03 - Humble Approach

         I come upon an enclave under the thick arms of the trees. The leafy ground seems to dance with patches of light. Before a subterranean tunnel that fades into an inky blackness I climb upon a square rock taking in the splashes of a thin waterfall gushing forth somewhere high on the mountain wall. In this spot I see a flat frog hop from a pile of branches over to the sunbathed slope that leads back into the meadow. The quality of the air here is refreshingly clear and everything seems covered with a greenish glow. At once a beetle noisily zips past and joins an orange butterfly mid-flight over a sparse collection of dandelions. I grin at the subtle beauty, but the things here seem artificial to my senses. It’s as if all is glazed over from a mind incapable of enjoying tranquility.
         A distant announcement of five hours sweeps by and I figure my sleep lasted longer than expected. The striking events of earlier fade into a sinking obscurity and the surroundings drop away leaving me suspended in a meditative sit alone. The old beast returns to my heart without any defenses placed. It is too late to mask it in apathy, or harness it to anger, much less is there any demanding situation that can suspend it. Here I am strung at the zenith of hopelessness with a disease far worse than any terminal illness that can give a man at least the courage to live out his last days to the fullest. No, I had decades upon decades of gut-wrenching life in a maggot’s skin where I might squirm about praying for an early death.
         Now I recall the blond from the start who had been shot through in a moment of brazen action. His countenance signaled brilliant life and his mind thought nothing of death. He is the unknown. He represents every unnamed soldier, every homeless man collapsing from starvation and every tragic murder long stricken from history records. Such lonely corpses that dissipate a fraction at a time into the elements are blessed. It is better to be a lonely corpse than lonely in flesh and blood.
         Long had I been without the capacity for love. When it came I did not fathom bothering with such an exotic concept. Had I told Miranda that I had loved her would she still have chosen her deceased friend over me? She had been that one connection to humanity in times of extreme duress. It is not like I could have told her this laughable feeling with our unspeakable history. Those days along the scalding Mukian deserts still burn flash images in my mind like the veteran has on days of long ago battles. Images of when I raped her like a savage animal once a day or sometimes twice. Many times I could not wait for her to get her clothes off and lie in position, so I would rip them off and beat her down in spite of the terrible sobs and echoing pleas. Echo indeed. Those same pleas repeat time and again from one ear to the other.
         I laugh bitterly and fall back from my rock into a nest of thorny birches.
         “Having fun?”
         Orca appears spectral-like in the green haze scaling down the slope. She comes to me where I am half suspended with my legs on the rocky platform and neck bent close to ninety degrees. I find it easier despite the prickling thorns to remain in this position. Orca is tightly bandaged everywhere below the chin and has her crimson hole-ridden attire is still on. She shines a sly little grin.
         “I’m having loads of fun,” I say.
         “At least someone is.”
         “I see you found bandages.”
         “We found a whole lot more.”
         “Cool.”
         “I feel like sleeping for the next one-hundred hours, but I suppose five more won’t kill me.”
         “I don’t think you’re capable of dying.”
         “Same to you.”
         I finally give the needed force to move from my twisted state. Now standing, I’m reminded that the witch has a good half a head above me in height and marvel that her pale face is still flawless. I figured she would finally have some scratch upon it, but some people are protected by providence to remain beautiful.
         “Came to visit me, eh?” I say.
         “Oh, you know, just offering my head one more time.”
         “Sorry, you’re going to keep on living. Such a terrible fate.”
         The woman sighs and looks slightly away.
         “We got Aku to tell us what’s going to happen to the two of you.”
         “I always knew you were a cunning one.”
         “Actually he just sort of said it when I asked.”
         “So? What is it, then?”
         “He said the game has another stage, involving an ‘impossible gauntlet of monsters, traps and diseases’.”
         “I guessed as much.”
         “He’s bitter because he has to stay trapped with you, I think.”
         “Such is life.”
         Orca stumbles back and leans on the closest bark. A branch holding a community of leaves eclipses the top of her head. I begin to feel uncomfortable being there alone with her.
         “So,” she says.
         “So?”
         “You know this is going to sound rather bland.”
         “What is?”
         “I’m sorry I pumped you full of holes.”
         “Oh, that. It was nothing.”
         “Nothing?”
         “Well, besides the imminent death thing, and the part about feeling a thousand knives plunged into my chest at once, and—“
         “I’m sorry, okay?”
         “Uh huh.”
         The woman slides her back down the tree and sits.
         “You’re such a funny little thing. You get shot, get up, then shot, and you get up, then shot again…”
         “It always gives me a good laugh.”
         “I think I wanted to save my own life.”
         “Probably.”
         “It’s not like I really still hated you.”
         “Whatever.”
         “I mean, I said back then you were a new man, and I meant it. But it just seemed the easiest path to take when told I had to kill someone.”
         “I figured as much.”
         She looks up at me with sudden venom in her eyes.
         “Would you stop giving me stock phrases and hate me a little? Look, I’ve done all the living a person deserves. I’m a freaking time magician, I’ve had
plenty of time, get it? If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for that poor girl.”
         “Some walking in a gauntlet of impending death will do Miranda some good.”
         “You can’t be serious.”
         “Give me one good reason why her life outweighs yours. Just because you’ve lived longer doesn’t disqualify you from living more. We each have our respective lifespan. The universe is unfair like that. Youth is overrated. If the world was populated by wise older people we’d be a lot better off.”
         “I’ve lived over a hundred years.”
         “So have I and I sure as hell don’t plan on letting some young and whining child take my place anytime soon. Neither should you.”
         “I give up. You are intolerable.”
         “Some things never change. While we’re at it, did you ever think of Yamoto when you cooked this roundabout suicide scheme?”
         I see the blood rise to her cheeks.
         “I’m sure he’s doing better than us.”
         “He loves you, you know.”
         “I know.”
         “I would ask if you love him back, but I suppose that’s none of my concern.”
         She stays quiet a moment.
         “You win, I’ll live.”
         “Good.”
         “And you?”
         “What about me?”
         “Will you live?”
         “I’ll try.”
         I wanted to say I would throw my head into the first fatal jaw encountered in this coming hallway of horrors, but my pride kept me from sharing these innermost feelings. I resign myself and sit facing Orca with my back pressed flat on my rock. I did not consider long on the witch’s apology. My focus proves scattered on a plethora of questions. Chief among these is what Miranda is doing while my former enemy leisurely leans here playing with the threads of her hair.
         We remain in a dull state of semiconscious when the fourth hour is announced. On cue the woman saunters up and seems to motion me to follow. She replies to my questioning gaze that we had best return to our insertion point where they’ve “gathered some supplies.” I shrug and begin to trail directly behind into the sunbathed field. I keep my eyes fixed downward noting Orca’s slight limp and the remains of gun cartridges scattered like stray stones. Unable to hold in a shudder I remember Circe’s corpse must be somewhere close. Refusing to observe the environment we come upon the quiet hum of the light portal.
         After a blink we are in the hazy white atmosphere surrounding those mountainous steps that descends to the bridge. Here I glance up towards Orca’s bandaged back noting her straight posture. Indeed, magicians do recover swiftly from remarkable wounds, her shot-up body producing no slow movements. Halfway down the stairway I move over to the golden rail sliding my hand across its icy surface. I begin to lose interest in everything around.
         The next time Orca spoke it was to announce triumphantly the return to “our beginnings.” I slide my feet shocked that I had allowed my mind to wander in a despairing stupor during our travel across the bridge. I now view the frosty wasteland. We went some further ways when I observe the crooked clock tower with its bluish sheen. I cast a sidelong glance to the stone wall where Miranda had slipped me the revolver and again set my eyes straight ahead. The two of us arrive at a new place: a log house spanning two stories with shattered windows and a porch holding an old rocking chair placed at the side. A pile of guns, ammunition and sacks of what might be food has been gathered up by the broken steps that lead up to the cabin’s open doorway.
         Our walk ends by the nest of supplies. Orca leans down to sift through the items as if taking a survey. I leave her to this duty and set off around the structure when my every nerve petrifies. Of course I had expected to find Miranda at our destination, but to see her in person dispels all my notions of making peace. She sat there with arms around her shins by the side of the porch’s railing. I clamp my teeth and turn partway considering the possibility of just leaving her there. From a distance Orca catches my heated expression and, dropping the Uzi she had been reloading, hurries over.
         “Coner, it’s best you eat something.”
         I laugh at this false pretense saying “I only need to eat once a month.”
         “Oh, I forgot about that.”
         Miranda gets up with her arms still folded. This simple movement gives me courage and I take a firm step towards her.
         “You and I, we’re going to have some real fun.”
         “What do you mean?”
         “I mean we’re going to have a great time dying together.”
         “Coner,” Orca says. “Get a hold of yourself.”
         “What? Should I pretend she didn’t try and kill me?”
         “I said I was sorry,” Miranda says with her voice rising by a degree. “I got caught up in the moment, I just—”
         “You and this witch here both have the same damn excuse.”
         “You’d do the same, wouldn’t you? If you…”
         “Dead people are dead,” I shout. “If someone had told me everyone I murdered would be brought back if I only killed you, I wouldn’t have done it. Now I’m
not so sure.”
         “I only had to shoot you once.”
         “You shot me twice!”
         “I thought I missed…”
         “You’re conveniently omitting our history. You know what the pylon does to me. You know Orca and Circe would have shot me down. You knew! You knew!”
         Miranda lets her arms drop. Her expression is one of disbelief.
         “I don’t want you to die.”
          “Why did you do it?”
         “I told you! I was stressed out. I was confused. I didn’t have long to decide and it just seemed…What I mean to say is I’m sorry, okay? Oh, don’t walk
away. I made a mistake. I should have never listened to him.”
         I slow my departure from the woman and bite hard at my lip. Forgiveness truly does have short arms. I felt a hypocrite in seeking forgiveness and
withholding it when the affront is aimed at me. But this is different. I fell in love with her. I still love her. How can I ever forget that she would choose a dead friend over my own living flesh that stands animated before her tender eyes? In her I had hope that even the most wretched of lives might attain happiness. She embodied a way through the crashing dark waters that swallows up the wandering seafarer. When even this sole desire of the heart catches in flames it becomes easy to imagine how my brother had taken a pistol to his own head and splattered his brains across the wall of a condemned desert hut. Did he have the answer? Is that an acceptable escape?
         My heart longs to see the beauties of the world. When grey reality fails to feed this yearning it searches inward following the branching chains of nostalgia. Sniffing out the positive of the past only seems to intensify the misery of the present—of people long gone and strong feelings without any practical application. I am brought low. I am humbled to the point of valuing my own life as less than worthless.
         “Perhaps you should kill me,” I say.
         “No,” Miranda responds hastily. “I made a mistake.”
         “You’ll both get to live.”
         Orca steps between the two of us. I face her and find myself staring with intensity.
         “That’s enough,” says the witch. “None of us asked to be placed under these circumstances. You should show a little understanding.”
         “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. “You begged to be killed. Now I beg to be killed. Two lives are saved under either scenario. Maybe three if the game master is
telling the truth.”
         Miranda begins to speak but stops abruptly at Orca’s sharp motion.
         “We’ve all tried to kill you. But you keep surviving. Dammit, we’ve all been wrong.”
         “Wrong?”
         “You told me once you found your purpose. Righting the wrongs. In other words helping people. Isn’t that what you said?”
         The muscles of my face tighten. I say nothing.
         “I’ve been a fool. I realized it long ago, but I kept repressing it under the memories of my family. The memories of Nicholas and Yamoto. It took Circe’s
madness to shed light on the gravity of my error. You are another person. You’ve started a new life.”
         “What?”
         “Coner is already dead. You true self is a clone of Nicholas—you have his feelings and desires. It is in your power right now to shed the burden of your
past. I want to see you realize this. I want to see you assume your new identity and finally find happiness. You of all people have the most to live for. You must stay alive.”
         I feel Orca’s conviction in this proclamation and for a moment let myself believe in the words. She comes to give a gentle slap on my shoulder while maintaining a serious expression. Could she have read my thoughts, then, and seen my momentary lapse of imagination to my brother’s last hour? Her silent appraisal of my stunned face said everything. My brother could have begun anew if only someone had been there to rescue him. If only some benevolent spirit had interceded. But he had no one, while I have someone.
         “Thank you,” I say. “It’s nice to hear you say that.”
         She solemnly bows her head and withdraws, still acting the barrier between Miranda and myself.
         “The two of you must face reality.”
         “What reality?” I ask. “I’m sure we both acknowledge what comes next.”
         “What comes next is your chance to start that new life. But you have to live.”
         “Yes.”
         “What I’m really getting at is that you have to travel with her. You can’t stay pissed at her. She deserves the chance to start a new life, too.”
         I consider for a moment what Orca meant. It’s true Miranda had once served in the same insidious army as myself, but she never made it beyond a
trainee and had no time to cause great calamities. I focus in on the young woman—clad in purple—and note her pale and shivering body. Did she mean her betrayal of me? Even with her words of encouragement I could not picture the witch taking my side in such an argument. Then her new life must be the escape of those black memories that I had caused.
         Returning again to this image I feel the sickening sensation that I needed to apologize. Her action against me was only a natural response prompted by the demon I had left in her. Her choice was my fault, and seeing her now in such a dejected state I can only see that I’ve caused her pain once again.
         “How?” I say abruptly. “How can I start a new life when my past keeps swinging back from every shadow?”
         The confused stare by both suggests the theory on Orca’s meaning had been misdirected. It didn’t matter. Now the question burned inside and demanded an answer.
          “I’m not saying you’re literally going to become a new person,” Orca responds after a pause. “Those things will happen. But they shouldn’t affect you emotionally or intellectually.”
         “You ask too much. I’m simply to smile at those lives I’ve ruined? You know well that there are so many such people that I’d encounter someone in every city of Muk!”
         “And you’re only now talking openly about it. It’s partially our fault; we never let you for long. It will take a long time to come to terms, but it will happen. You can’t stay quiet. You’re a very quiet person by nature. You have to talk about it until your mouth bleeds. Then you talk about it some more.”
         “You’re suggesting therapy for this?” I laugh. “Feeling a little better won’t stop people from coming to take revenge against me.”
         “So run away.”
         “What a fun life that will be! I can’t wait to get through this next game so I can get started right away.”
         “You could always move. There’s places you’ve never been, right? What about the planet Elk? Stop being stuffed in a little box.”
         The conversation is interrupted as Aku materializes from the air. His suit gives off a soft purr of electrical currents. He stands with a fist resting on his
waist, his head bent and looking skyward at nothing in particular. Me and my companions shift our positions to my left and view this spectacle. He lets off a little grin and sets his bored gaze to each of us in turn.
         “I hardly imagine this is what Sol had in mind when he penned this spatial plain,” says the man with a shrug. “I suppose it was Vann’s folly; this format is really meant for total strangers and not old-time acquaintances. But, alas, poor little Circe!”
         “I killed her in self-defense,” Orca says in agitation.
         “I hear her, poor little Circe’s soul is crying out! ‘I felt I was acting in self-defense, too!’”
         “You’re guilty of a kill as well.” I remind the game master. “A kill of self-defense it would seem.”
         Aku takes a step forward, bends his back and tilts his head as to give a dramatic and inquisitive stance.
         “After I explained the rules. If someone’s going to break one a minute after hearing them there’s no help for them. But really, it can’t be self-defense if he
posed no actual threat.”
         The youth starts a quick pace and motions with his hands as he continues speaking.
         “Nevermind all that. It’s abundantly clear no one’s going to kill the other now, so I’m stuck going into this second phase. It’s really a shame.”
         “You’re that impatient?” I ask.
         “Impatient! That’s not the word. Ah, but that’s right, you aren’t aware of the distortions… Say by some inconceivable chance you last the three or so
months it will take to escape the next stage—”
         “Three months?” Miranda interrupts. “This stage was only a little more than a day.”
         “Yes for three months, but that’s not the end of it. Three months here is like fifteen years in the real world.”
         I feel nothing at receiving this information. After all, I know no friend and cannot even conceive what I might do on returning. I let out a sigh and turn away.
         “Tell us the details about this next stage,” I say.
         “Later. I will give you some advice. Gather up as much as you can. I can’t promise you’ll find much food or ammunition. Much less a tonic for any
disease you might contract.”
         “That’s insane,” says Orca. “It’s too much.”
         “It was never designed to be survived. Hence why I say I still win,” Aku remarks coldly. “I won’t announce the hours anymore. You have precious few left
anyway. Just know that when it’s time you’ll be spirited away.”

***

         When I left I gave Miranda a final look. I’m uncertain whether it was one of pity or displeasure, but in any case I didn’t take long accruing guns and provisions. Once I had stuffed the goods in a few old brown sacks I tied them around my arms to assure they’d be taken with my person. Now I’ve returned to isolation sitting at the base of the clock tower. I only make out silhouettes in the frosty smog and resign to studying my own calloused hands.
         Warmth comes over me and my heart jumps with a sudden peace. I can imagine it. I can picture what it might be like to shed my old life and live in
harmony with others. Ah, how wonderful they are, those human minds that can relate and comprehend. Deep inside I know this serene moment is a fabrication. It’s a defense mechanism against falling to the hellish depths, but right now I allow myself to smile and take in a long and deep breath.
         My sight grows dim and a tickling sensation overcomes me. Of course, I think, this isn’t hope. This is a symptom of my transport. Pretty soon I will wake up. Not long after that Miranda will be killed in what could be a slow and miserable death. Then I’ll be all alone. Walking in darkness I’ll cry out hearing only my own echo. I will call, and shout, and when nobody responds for the one-millionth time I shall collapse from exhaustion and pass from this existence. Much like the generations of mankind my life will fade from memory and my tortured soul will be undistinguished from the rest of the cosmos. Oh, God, why can’t we do things over again?
         All fades and I am set to fulfill this prophecy I have made.

End of Volume 1

Act V