From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung)
Date: 14 Jun 93 18:22:18 GMT
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [MG] The Contents of My Head

[ADMIN] This should be read after the posts:
   [MG] Turning Around (by Hutch & Li)
   [MG] White Rabbit Blues (by Hutch & Li)
   [MG] Taken in Ambush (by Hutch & me)
   [MG] Forging Fine Silver (by Hutch & a bit from me)
and chronologically follows the posting (a ways back ago) of
   [MG] Somewhere out of context (by Kelly & a bit from me)

But enough of preliminaries and preconditions.  On with the show!

                        ---->,`<----

	"These are the dreams I'll dream instead
	 This is the joy that's seldom spread
	 These are the tears...
	 The tears we shed.
	 This is the fear
	 This is the dread
	 These are the contents of my head"
			-Annie Lennox, "Why" DIVA


     Nescie looked away, breathing slowly, controlling some of his
feelings.  He'd forgotten about how Jameson was sometimes so
unreactive.  Not that she wasn't sympathetic, just that sometimes she
seemed to be looking at him from very far away.  Even now she stood,
her eyes distant.  He turned and the distortion field around them fell
away.  He paused and put out his arm to her.  Coming from far away to
smile warmly at him, she tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

     Ahead of them, the doorman to Le Chateau de Pooh-Pooh Grandoise
allowed his nose to elevate a degree or two.  Jameson's eyebrows
arched ever so slightly and she turned to Nescie, saying in a false,
high-pitched voice fraught with haughtiness,

     "ArchMage Nescie, you did say Monsieur had personally invited you
to sample his private stock of Grapes of Wrath, 250 B.P.?  We'd best
be sure it's the real thing.  Otherwise, I'm going back to Melwis --
he promised me a truly fine bottle of Briande in exchange for that
little favor I did him last week."  She sniffed and picked an
invisible bit of lint from her shirt.  

     Nescie looked almost as startled as the doorman, who rushed to
open the door for them with a breathless flourish and bow.  Jameson
ignored him and swept through, dragging Nescie along.  She grinned and
winked at Nescie as the Maitre'd glanced at them sidelong from across
the restaurant.  When he returned from escorting those guests, he
smiled graciously at them, "Reservation?"

     "ArchMage of Education, Nescie y'Ridalen and Onari Ambassador
Jameson W. Walker," Jameson rattled off smoothly.

     Looking down his list, he glanced back up and seemed to make a
decision.  "Just a moment."  He signalled a waiter, said something
quietly to the man, then turned his smile back on Jameson and the
slightly baffled Nescie.  "This way, please."

     They were escorted to a small table near the fireplace.  The
setting was absolutely lovely and Jameson settled contentedly into the
comfortably upholstered chair the Maitre'd held out for her.  Once the
attendants left them with their menus, Nescie looked at Jameson and
said, very quietly, "What was that?"

     Jameson replied, with equal discretion, "That was Attitude
Affectation Number 34, subsection B, VIP Bluff.  Did you like it?"  

     Nescie looked at her disbelievingly for a moment before the smile
appeared.  He laughed quietly in his hand for a few moments while
Jameson grinned happily at him.  Watching him, she acknowledged, "It
did help that you *are* a VIP, by the way."  That only served to make
Nescie laugh harder.  With a quiet but highly unfeminine snort,
Jameson picked up her menu and began scanning.  Eventually, Nescie did
the same.

     After they had ordered several courses, they sat sipping juice in
a comfortable silence.  Then, Nescie said softly, "There are some
things, Jaime, that I'd like to ... talk about ... with you.

     He paused, gathering his thoughts.  "When I was telling you about
the Mage Guild's situation, there was something I hadn't mentioned.
For the first time in a long while, it looks like they'll be able to
do without me.  The Education Department is pretty stable now.  I
don't have to keep an eye on everything we're doing anymore.  The
teaching staff is making preparations for the new semester, but they
don't need me for that.

     "All the politics ... well, frankly, Jaime, I'm sick of the whole
thing.  I feel like I've been under a lot of stress lately, and I'm
not sure what's causing it.  Maybe it's just the atmosphere in the
Guild or maybe it's the general situation here in Nexus, but I've had
this sense I can't shake that something somewhere has gone drastically
wrong.  I haven't been sleeping regularly, and I sleep too much when
I do sleep.  I have awful dreams that I barely remember when I wake
up, and I keep losing track of time.  I've spent hours that are
totally blank to me; I have no idea where they go.  I couldn't even
tell you what I was doing this afternoon."  Jameson frowned at him in
worry, but remained silent.

     "Maybe I'm finally burning out."  Nescie looked down at his hands
and sighed deeply.  "All that drudgework, all those years, and so
little to show for it.  My department's working again, but I don't
even know if I can really teach anymore; it's been so long.  All this
scrambling around for Delalle's position, and--"  He made an agitated
sort of shrugging motion, then calmed himself.  "As far as I can tell,
it doesn't mean a whole lot to be the Supreme Archmage."

     "And then, when you showed up out of the blue, it was like...
Well, like a sign, or something."  Nescie looked up again, meeting
Jameson's eyes.  "I actually went out of my way and _did_ something
that I had never thought about before."  He smiled, gestured at
himself, at his newly-young body.

     "I don't know if I want to stay on at the Guild or not, Jaime.
I've been thinking it'd be a good idea for me to take a vacation, to
get away from it all for a couple of years, even a couple of decades.
To look at everything all over again, and see if I'm doing what I
really want to do."  He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again.

     "The Guild won't miss me much; my assistant, Charblon, can take
over for me.  By the time I make my decision, he should be able to
handle my position permanently if he has to.  And as far as this
Reaverschild affair goes, well...  We all have to do what we can,
but I know I'm not much good in a fight.  I don't think my presence
would make much of a difference, if it came down to it.

     "I told you once that I've wondered sometimes what would have
happened if I had decided to go with you instead.  It's kind of corny,
I know, but I feel like I've been given a second chance, or at least
an opportunity for a different beginning.  I'd like to travel with
you, Jaime, if you'd have me.  Maybe for a little while.  Maybe for as
long as I live..."

     Again the faraway look came into Jameson's eyes, but it faded
quickly and she looked at him very seriously.  "I don't know if I
could travel *with* anyone else, Nescie.  I mean, our classes together
were fun, but they were somewhat controlled.  We had goals, exercises
to complete, deadlines and perhaps most influential, a place to return
to ... I've not really gone through Doors with someone since my
apprenticeship.  It's easy enough travelling across individual worlds.
That is, when it's a comfortable companion..."  Her sentence trailed
off and she sat back as the main course appeared via discrete waitron.
There was silence as they ate.

     After completing the majority of her meal, Jameson continued.
"I'm ..." she laughed, "I'm going to over-explain.  Do what you're
good at, I suppose."  Her smile faded as she looked at and through one
of the candle's flame.  Finally, she met Nescie's eyes.  "You are a
good friend.  I don't mean any of this to be hurtful, but I do want to
be honest.  We've always been honest with each other..."  She paused
briefly, then went on.

     "I'm afraid, Nescie.  I'm very fearful of getting close to
people.  I mean, you know more than most and it feels good to be with
someone and not worry about slipping and mentioning something that
happened a few hundred years ago."  She smiled at him briefly.  "I've
always been cautious about getting close to people.  Not just because
I ... lose them.  But because when they get old, they get -- well --
peculiar.  Many of them envy me, and it turns to a kind of dislike.
They can't stand the sight of me.  It's much worse with humans than
elves.  And also ..."  She trailed off and fiddled with her fork.

     "Things ... happen.  Around me.  I'm not sure if it's just the
law of averages, or my tendency to meddle or what.  But, people around
me get into the strangest situations.  Sometimes... no _often_, really
horrible things happen.  The last person I was close to was a boy."
She looked into the distance, remembering.  A smile played at the
corners of her mouth.  "He reminded me of you.  It wasn't long after
I'd left Arkham.  Remember when I told you I'd been running serum for
some colonies with a Plague problem?"

     At Nescie's nod, she continued.  "Well, he was on one of the
planets.  They were desperate for someone to take a batch of inoculant
out to a remote farming community with no landing pad.  Not much of a
road leading out either, but it served.  I stayed there for a while,
helping bury the dead, inoculating the kids, showing families how to
pool their resources."  She stopped.  It was obviously getting
progressively more difficult to talk about.

     "There was this kid, barely out of adolescence.  He sort of
volunteered to be my helper.  He was a good kid.  Strong, big-hearted.
Loved his little sister.  We buried a LOT of his neighbors.  A couple
of group graves to handle the majority of the bodies, then a few
individual graves.  This plague, it ... twisted people.  They were
hard to look at.  They usually died screaming, with rictus setting in
almost immediately ... Ah.  Yeah.  Never mind the details.  I'm
spoiling my own dinner."  She looked a bit rueful at the food she was
chasing around her plate.

     "One day, we came back from burying another body.  I was staying
at his house with him, the last adult of his parental unit and his
younger sister.  We found ... his adult had ... there was ... well ...
he was insane.  He'd killed the girl.  With an ax.  Then mutilated
himself."  Her eyes filled, despite her rapid blinking.  "But he was
still alive.  And laughing.  Mazn ... cracked.  Killed him, and ...
used the ax.  On him.  Then came after me.  We fell down the stairs.
We both ... died.  I broke my neck.  When I had ... healed ... I got
up, took all the kids from the compound, loaded them into my skimmer,
and left.  Handed them over to the Meds in Center City and booked a
fast passage out.  I think I gave my shuttle to one of the interns I
had taught piloting."  She was slowly shaking her head.  "The Wasting.
That's what they called it.  The Wasting."

     She clasped her hands together and stared at her fingers.  "I
think sanity and insanity are foolish concepts.  Reality does not
always hold me in her rough embrace.  But this ... this confrontation
with what happens to people.  Shook me.  Deeply.  When I look into the
eyes of those I care about, I fear seeing Mazn's eyes.  His eyes were
dead long before he fell."  She looked searchingly into Nescie's
sympathetic face and for a moment, like a brief flash or reflection,
his eyes were dark, featureless and cold.  But it was gone before she
could be sure.  She laughed shakily.  Her imagination was jeopardizing
her grasp on her self.

     Clearing her throat she continued, slightly more steadily, "And
what about you?  You said yourself that after twenty years away from
his job, Delalle had a large group of people trying to replace him.
What would you do, should that happen to you?  You said Charblon could
handle everything, permanently if necessary.  But do you want to give
this up?  And I know you've, um, made yourself younger, but do you
still want to go running about, living off the land, bathing in cold
water and eating when you can?  Most humans get tired of that sort of
thing after a while."  She held up her hand, to forestall his
protests.  "Do you want to settle down?  Have kids?  I'm not going to.
At least, not any time soon.  Mother doesn't know what my development
is going to be like, but she suspects *something* is going to happen
when I reach approximately a thousand rotations.  Breeding?  Death?
Evolution?  I don't know.  Will you still be around?  Will you want to
be?  It's nice to want to spend the rest of your life with someone,
but what if that life lasts hundreds upon hundreds of years?"

     "Both Delalle and Dasham are... were... several hundred years
old," Nescie said.  "I don't think it's improved Dasham very much,
but Delalle...  It wasn't so much that he was powerful and wise,
though he was, but that he knew what was important in his life, and
he did it.  I'm sorry he's gone; I think you would have liked to
meet him.  Looking at the two of them as examples, and at you, I'd
guess that how you turn out after a few hundred years depends on the
sort of person you were to start with."

     Jameson nodded.  "I know.  And I understand.  I'm just worried.
Maybe over-reacting?  I mean, what about getting back here?  Or back
to Arkham?  I've been places it would take me a hundred rotations, er,
years to get back to ... randomizers, worm holes, time distortions,
one-ways.  Granted, this is a major link, but nevertheless, it's a
possibility.  That, plus, sometime in the next fifty years, I'm
returning to Onari.  That's going to take a LONG time, unless I hitch
a ride someplace."  

      She smiled absently, then looked back at him and frowned with
concern.  "I'm sorry, Nescie.  I didn't mean ... I don't want to hurt
you.  I just ..."  She spread her hands somewhat helplessly, then
reached across the table and entwined her fingers with his.  "And I AM
worried about you.  I have been since I got here.  You haven't seemed
... happy, I guess."  Smiling almost shyly, she went on, "I think
perhaps I still consider you as my brilliant but vulnerable young
friend.  Especially now.  I forget you've lived a lifetime.  Become an
adult.  I still want to protect you from the real world."  She grinned
at him, then sobered slowly.  "And I don't want something horrible to
happen to you.  Something for which I could never forgive myself..."

     "It's alright, Jaime.  I think I understand," Nescie said.  He
fell silent for a moment, thinking, before he spoke again.  When he
did, his voice was gentle.  "No one can say for certain what will
tomorrow will bring:  not scientists, nor mages, nor poets, nor
time-travellers, nor gods.  There are even those who believe the First
Creator designed purely for the surprise of what would come next.

     "You're still rather young for an immortal, you know."  The hint
of a smile appeared in his eyes.  "And, you're right.  It wasn't fair
of me to ask you for your forever.  That's a long time, and I don't
know if we'd last together, or even if I would live that long.

     "I do know this, though:  I can see what I'd like to happen, even
if I can't predict what really will come to pass, or what the world --
or worlds -- will be like a day from now, or a year from now, or a
century from now.  How about we take things as they come, dealing with
them a day at a time, seeing what happens?"

     Jameson started to say something, then stopped.  Opened her mouth
again.  Closed it.  Finally she began laughing and Nescie smiled at
her.  "Yes.  That would be wonderful.  And, perhaps, I'll be able to
let go of some of these worries.  I'm planning on being here for a
while anyway.  We can take it ... slow."  She smiled.

     They sat, lost in their own thoughts for a few moments, enjoying
the contact between them.

     Suddenly, Nescie stiffened and paled.  "What is it?" Jameson
asked.  He didn't answer, but he stood, pulling Jameson to her feet by
her hands.  "Nescie?  Nescie, you're hurting me."  He ignored her,
turning his head to stare at one end of the table.  Jameson briefly
flexed her fingers.  No way she could get him to let go without
possibly hurting him.  Looking at his face, she stopped moving and
turned to see what he was watching.

     There was a sound like tearing paper, a rippling in the air, and
a man dressed in the robes of Mage Guild Security appeared out of
nowhere.  There was some sort of bright light that shone like a
flickering lantern from a hole torn in the cloth over his chest.  In
the cast of the light, Jameson could see pulpy redness, broken bits of
white, and something that pulsated rhymically.  Abruptly she realized
she was looking directly at the man's heart through an opening in his
ribcage about the size of his hand.

     It was Dieter.  But his face was impassive, expressionless,
slack, and there was something wrong with his eyes; they were dull
black, empty, reflecting nothing.  Dead inside.  Mazn's eyes.  She
shuddered involuntarily.  Nescie was still holding her fingers in a
solid grip.

     A waiter stepped up to them smoothly.  "Sir--"  Dieter flicked
his wrist, spattering Jameson and Nescie with blood, and the waiter
was jerked up in the air, his head twisted to one side.  Jameson heard
the sharp crack of a breaking neck.  The man twitched and went limp,
suspended from an invisible noose.

     Why wasn't Nescie doing anything?  "Nescie?" she said softly,
pulling at his hands where he still held her.  Slowly, so very slowly,
he turned to face her...

...And she saw that his eyes were justlikeDieterseyesjustlikejustlike
justlikeMaznseyesshecouldhearthesteadythumpingofanaxpoundingtwomatteb
lackopeningsemptyemptinessnothingnothingnessmalevolencedespairandpart
ofhimwaslaughingandpartofhimwascryingandpartofhimwasterrifiedandallof
himwastearingscreaminglaughingandtheaxshecouldheartheaxthumpingcuttin
gsprayingbloodthumpingfasterfasterslammingfasterhewascuttinghewas and 
she realized it was her heart, beating faster and faster as she began
to understand that this was horror.  This was madness.  This.

     Nescie's mouth opened and he said, in a voice that was far
emptier than any human being could manage: "MAR."

     A cold wind blew.  The world imploded around her.

---
Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to co-authors:
Kelly J. Cooper            &         Bernie Hsiung
kjc@cs.rutgers.edu                   bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu