Date: Sun, 2 Feb 1997 00:18:42 -0500 Message-ID: <199702020518.AAA25106@asylum.apocalypse.org> From: "Kelly J. Cooper" Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JWW] [HA] The Long Walk Home, part 4: "Banks for the Memories" Mail-To-News-Contact: postmaster@nym.alias.net Organization: mail2news@nym.alias.net Lines: 215 Xref: orb alt.pub.dragons-inn:3907 [ADMIN: Parts 1, 2 & 3 have previously been posted here and can be found at http://www.apocalypse.org/pub/u/kjc/JWW.html Parts of this story were written two years ago (but never posted) with Phyllis Rostykus, aka Liralen Li (liralen@netcom.com), for the [HA] thread (the first 3 parts of which can be found at the above URL as well). See the ADMIN introduction to "The Long Walk Home, part 3" for more details. The Lighthouse belongs to Steve & Penny Hutchison (hutch@ & penny@agora.rdrop.com) and is used with their gracious permission. Our story thus far - Jameson W. Walker, while shifting from the GateWay of the Worlds in Generica on the planet Nexus to another world known as "Shadow" (homeworld to Kardia Xvaramene) was blown out of her transport movement for reasons unknown (or non-existent) and left on a third planet whose local name for itself translates to "Mudball." She is remembering events previous to her transport and trying to find a gateway off-world so that she can begin her journey back to Nexus. She is currently en route to a place called The City of Glass. Thanks.] ** --- < <<< --*-- >>> > --- ** "...Memories charge at full gallop...the light cavalry of comparisons deploys itself magnificently; the artillery of logic hurry in with their train of ammunition; flashes of wit pop up like sharp-shooters." Honore de Balzac (1799-1850) ** --- < <<< --*-- >>> > --- ** Jameson was both irritated that this world, this Mudball, was so big that walking it took so long and, at the same time, grateful for its size, that it gave her the time to think. The memories were coming more quickly now. Her need to understand why or how she had come to be here... her loneliness... the feeling of futility in traversing a place she'd already thoroughly explored hundreds of years ago... the filling in of her life AFTER her last death with all the changes she went through... just reminding herself that she was still breathing, walking, thinking, living. All this conspired within her to push her mind in directions she could not control. It frightened her, but she needed it, this ordering of her thoughts. And as her recent memories of her own life played over, her older memories of this world also flickered like dim shadows of that which is now. In comparison, she could literally see the evolution of this world's civilisation as easily as she noted the erosion and growth of its landscape. The new memories layered over the old, making for an odd perspective. Her mind touched her deck where it rested in her pack, idling in a low-power mode. It was so much easier now to interface with her equipment, to update her databases, to derive coordinates. Like the coordinates for Shadow that she had given to Carroll, the Journeyman from the Mage Guild. To find that world, to chart its existence in relation to Nexus, had been an intense operation... --------------------------------------------------------------------- "And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller betwixt life and death;" - Wordsworth (on AI Computers?) <<--*-->> "Ok." Jameson leaned back and stopped fiddling with the pile of hardware in front of them. She had rigged a patch between her deck and the Lighthouse's mini-web. Her deck was projecting a small representation of the Nexus night sky. "What time of year was it on Nexus when you came through the gateway?" Kardia frowned in thought and her eyes drifted out of focus as she recalled. "The gateway? Hmmm... nearing the end of summer. I remember because it was spring at home... and..." She shook her head. The projected stars shifted subtly, rotating smoothly to show a slightly different set. "Got it. Now, jack in." Kardia removed her plug and slid the Lighthouse connector into the socket at the base of her skull. Her face slackened and her body relaxed slightly. Jameson dropped smoothly into meditation and slid into the net herself. Part of her perceived a beautiful silver spider crouched on a bright web of light. The rest of her attention was devoted to the sky "inside" -- it looked exactly like her representation. The interface was working smoothly. Hopefully, it would continue to do so. Her voice was disembodied, "Now, think of the sky, when you first came through. Day or night?" Kardia's voice came from all around them. "Day." "Ok, visualize the sky." But even as she said it, the stars faded to a brilliant blue sky and a bright sun. "Computer: coordinates. Mark. Ok, Kardia, now the first night sky you ever saw." Kardia made a soft sound, halfway between a yelp of surprise and the whisper of a whimper. Pale shadows of men with leering, cruel faces loomed over them. The web of light all around them was vibrating in sympathy with the shivering spider. "Easy there. Steady now Weaver. We are not there and this is only memory. Concentrate on my voice and remember the sky. Only the sky. Look up, Kardia. Look up." Jameson's virtual hands were full of her concentration. She tried to keep her voice steady and reassuring. Kardia inhaled audibly and then let it out in a slow sigh and muttered, "Edit frame." The men disappeared as abruptly as a tape editing cut. The sky jerked back to darkness and stars began to glow in from the inside out. Soon most of the sky was lit, just the edges blurred. "Computer: coordinates. Mark. Good one, Kardia. Now, the next night you looked up." A shadow loomed across the dome of sky but vanished before Jameson could open her mouth. The sky looked almost exactly the same, the stars having shifted imperceptibly. "Computer: coordinates. Mark. That's it, love. Can you remember anything about going through the gate? What did it look like? Colors, perceptions, anything..." The stars winked out and there was darkness with light coming in blurrily, bouncing. The view of someone wearing a blindfold. Suddenly, it was removed and a bouncing view from an odd-angle spread out before them like a panorama. Jameson realized the perspective was that of someone being carried between two people. The viewpoint spun as the owner of the eyes was stood upright, then the vision bounced, as if she'd been pushed forward abruptly into something that looked like folding and unfolding refracted light. There was a roaring noise and flash of rainbow colors, predominantly blues and purples and a feeling of intense cold. An inability to breathe. Jameson gasped reflexively and the vision faded at the noise. Recovering, she said softly, "Good. Ok, some quick pictures. The night sky from your father's building. As recent as possible." The sky lit, brilliantly. "Computer: coordinates. Mark. And from the place where you all hid, when you were breaking the curse." The stars all streamed briefly then stilled. "Excellent. Computer: coordinates. Mark. How much distance and how many daily rotations were between the two? And the dates?" Kardia answered slowly, "76 miles, and... daily rotations... 30 days hath September..." she ticked some things off on her fingers. "Four hundred and eighty seven days." Jameson nodded to herself. "Now, the last night sky you remember seeing on Shadow?" Again the stars streamed slightly and settled. "Computer: coordinates. Mark. We're done love. Is there anything else you'd like to show me?" Faces drifted into focus and the web around them vibrated with sympathetic responses. A face all angles, pale and perfect linked strongly with a desire and a pain so fierce it should have burned. A face with Kardia's eyes, but built broad, with more age and the weight of sorrow. A boy with fiery hair and brilliant arc-weilders eyes and the same nose as the man before linked with warmth and concern. A faded, slightly pinched face under hair the color of Kardia's with the same high cheekbones and slighly slanted eyes Kardia had, all linked with the smell of freshly baked bread. Then a blurring montage of chrome and brilliant holographic neon, rain sheeting on black paved wet streets, dark alleys filled with filth and too-quick shadows... Music started from somewhere all behind them. The rhythm could not be heard in Generica, with tonals unreachable by gut and wood, bronze or stone. A music that grew until it vibrated the bones, each note cut clear and clean and as absolute and intricate as the silicon that had made Kardia's eyes. Jameson could feel the weaver's attention shifting elsewhere. Whispering "I'll be in the livingroom working if you need anything," Jameson excused herself and gently withdrew. Back in the slightly more concrete world, Jameson disengaged the elaborate kludge she'd hacked together to rig her deck into the 'net and wandered out of the room. Behind and all around her, a delicate spider made of light danced on brilliant threads of razor edge music and memory. --------------------------------------------------------------------- It was deep in the night on Mudball and quite thoroughly dark when Jameson finally stopped walking. Some days she simply didn't stop. Tonight, however, she was tired. Her throat was tight, her head ached and her eyes were full no matter how much she blinked. Finding a suitable tree, she climbed into it to sit at the center where three trunks split off and formed a small cradle. She brought her pack around so that it sat in her lap and looped it snugly over her shoulders. Staring at what stars she could see through the leaves and gripping her bag tightly, she let herself cry in small shivering sobs that wracked her body, until she eventually slipped into an exhausted sleep. -- Copyright 1996 Phyllis Rostykus and Kelly J. Cooper. All rights reserved. -- Kelly J. Cooper kjc@apocalypse.org Writer for Jameson W. Walker Keeper of the Mage Guild FAQ http://www.apocalypse.org/pub/u/kjc/dragon.html "A chic type, a rough type, an odd type -- but never a stereotype." - Jean-Michel Jarre