| Jane | 03-24-2004 12:50 AM |
This is a continuation of "Roger the Damned", "Black Forest", and "Oh Ye Mortals!"
Oh, and, the prettiest paragraph in the story belongs to Zola and her masterful command of the written word. I'm in your debt dudette.
In the Circle Cocytus
Dorothy stood in front of the abandoned Wayneright mansion. It hardly resembled the building she remembered. Strange vines curled their way around the walls, and weird, twisted trees bowed down, hiding it from view. The windows of the place were broken and there was a gaping hole in the wall where Beck’s robot had torn its way through. Big O had told her that this was the place the machine had come from, and she wasn’t surprised. Too many strange and mysterious things had already emerged from it, and in some way they were all related to her.
She took a step inside the rusted gate. It was an empty shell now, having been stripped of all that had made it significant. Yet, there was something buried beneath it that was deeper than her memories—something more archetypal that refused to be erased or forgotten.
She pushed in the rotted door easily and stepped inside the crumbling relic. Nothing there was familiar to her, although she knew it should be. The few objects the room contained were barely recognizable. To see the place so derelict made Dorothy feel like a part of her had disappeared.
She continued to walk further into the house, unsure of what she was looking for, when a noise behind her made her turn around. There was someone standing behind her, outlined by the light of the open door. The gears in Dorothy’s eyes fluctuated her irises in an attempt to focus on the figure, but she couldn’t get a clear picture until the woman stepped into the room.
She was a short, mousy-looking person with wild, intoxicating brown curls. Dorothy immediately sensed what she was.
“You know,” the woman said, strolling casually towards her, “There is an old fairy tale about something called a mermaid, a being without a soul, who fell in love with a mortal man.” She paused for a moment, picking up a piece of wood that might have once been part of a chair leg, and shredded it between her fingers. “This mermaid paid a terrible price so that she could appear human, win the love of the man, and gain an immortal spirit, but in the end he fell in love with another of his kind, and she disintegrated into nothing more than foam. Somehow I think that little tale applies to your situation, Miss Wayneright. Surely you can see the similarities?”
“You are a thing of half-truths,” Dorothy said, “And yet you are an android like me. How can this be?”
The other smirked, but answered only with another question, “Just what are you looking for here? This place no longer has any part of you. Besides, you probably shouldn’t leave your man alone at such a critical time. Who knows what might happen?”
Dorothy didn’t like the way the woman smiled; it was full of nastiness and a strange undercurrent of forbidden knowledge—knowledge to be dispensed only in misleading fragments and cryptic clues. And as for any allusions to Roger being in danger, Dorothy was not concerned, he and Big O were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.
“Of course,” the woman said, “Your situation isn’t looking particularly good either.”
Abruptly, a herd of giant, pink robots, identical to those that Beck had used to capture her before, swarmed in through the open door. Last time they had taken her without a struggle, but now Dorothy had a newfound sense of identity and with it, the desire for self-preservation. As the first robot came towards her, snapping its lethal tail, she pushed off from the floor and jumped on it hard, squashing it into the floor. Another robot reached for her, and she grabbed its mechanical arms and snapped them out of their sockets. She let one clatter to the floor, but held onto the other, swinging it at the approaching foes like a baseball bat.
She slammed her weapon into the body of one of the attackers, causing a satisfying eruption of electrical sparks. Before she could go after the next, a shot rang out. Her arm fell limply to her side, a stream of oil pouring to the ground beside her. The gun was fired twice more and she collapsed as gaping holes appeared in her legs. She looked up and saw that the android was poised to shoot again, and that the remaining robots were swarming over her.
***
Roger Smith didn’t know what to do. He stood in Dorothy’s bedroom, staring blankly at the emptiness. She was gone, and he had no idea where she was. All he knew was that Beck must have been behind it, just as he had been every other time. Roger felt lost and alone; his mind overwhelmed with thoughts of f the terrible things that might have happened. He didn’t know what he would do if he never found her. He had never even told her that he…
Overwhelmed, he sat down on the floor, his head in his hands. His eyes burned and there was a lump in his throat that made him feel like he was choking. He had never even told her that he… that he… A drop of water ran from the corner of his eye, quickly followed by another, then another. He fought to control the rising tide of grief and despair but it would not be denied.
When his tears had slowed he wondered what Dorothy would think if she came in and saw him laying on the floor like this. When she had found him underground, consumed with irrational fear, she had taken his head into her lap and stroked his hair, her touch so gentle and comforting that he had dreamed of his mother. If she were here now, would she do the same? The memory of it soothed him and he closed his eyes. “I love you, Dorothy,” he whispered. Within moments he was sleeping.
His dream was all too familiar. There was the terrible sky filled with warring megadeuses where he was one of the many that were piloting them. His felt cold and empty in comparison to Big O even though it seemed to be an exact copy. He also saw the old visions of fire and the destruction of the world, but now there was a building rising out of the flames that looked astonishingly like the central tower of Paradigm. He saw himself wearing the clothes of a tired vagabond as he stepped inside the tower. There was a flash of blinding light and he felt the sensation of unmatchable joy as he was…released, that was the best way he could describe it. He saw Angel and he knew, although he couldn’t say how, that she was in terrible trouble. He woke to the sound of her calling his name.
“…Roger, Master Roger,” said Norman, “Are you all right sir?”
The butler was sitting next to him on the floor, a look of terrified concern on his face. Roger managed a weak smile to comfort his friend. “I think I’ll live,” he said, “but Dorothy is gone.”
“She is?” Norman said, “I never saw her leave, and no one has entered the building since you left.”
Roger sat up and rubbed his forehead, feeling the first twinges of a headache, “Dorothy is gone and I had a dream about Angel,” he said.
“I’m sure Miss Dorothy is all right sir,” the other man said comfortingly.
“There’s somewhere I have to go,” Roger said, standing up, “Is the Griffon ready?”
“I’ll go check, sir,” Norman said, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“No, I’m not sure,” Roger, answered. “But who is?”
The butler smiled and left. Roger changed out of his dirty, wrinkled suit, washed his face, and slicked back his hair. By the time he went down the stairs, the Griffon was ready to go. He tried to shake off the strange sense of foreboding that was clouding his senses, but it was if a gloomy fog had settled over him. Perhaps it was the nightmare that had done it, but whatever the reason, he was grim as he drove the car out of the garage and steered it in the direction of the abandoned Paradigm Tower.
Oh, and, the prettiest paragraph in the story belongs to Zola and her masterful command of the written word. I'm in your debt dudette.
In the Circle Cocytus
Dorothy stood in front of the abandoned Wayneright mansion. It hardly resembled the building she remembered. Strange vines curled their way around the walls, and weird, twisted trees bowed down, hiding it from view. The windows of the place were broken and there was a gaping hole in the wall where Beck’s robot had torn its way through. Big O had told her that this was the place the machine had come from, and she wasn’t surprised. Too many strange and mysterious things had already emerged from it, and in some way they were all related to her.
She took a step inside the rusted gate. It was an empty shell now, having been stripped of all that had made it significant. Yet, there was something buried beneath it that was deeper than her memories—something more archetypal that refused to be erased or forgotten.
She pushed in the rotted door easily and stepped inside the crumbling relic. Nothing there was familiar to her, although she knew it should be. The few objects the room contained were barely recognizable. To see the place so derelict made Dorothy feel like a part of her had disappeared.
She continued to walk further into the house, unsure of what she was looking for, when a noise behind her made her turn around. There was someone standing behind her, outlined by the light of the open door. The gears in Dorothy’s eyes fluctuated her irises in an attempt to focus on the figure, but she couldn’t get a clear picture until the woman stepped into the room.
She was a short, mousy-looking person with wild, intoxicating brown curls. Dorothy immediately sensed what she was.
“You know,” the woman said, strolling casually towards her, “There is an old fairy tale about something called a mermaid, a being without a soul, who fell in love with a mortal man.” She paused for a moment, picking up a piece of wood that might have once been part of a chair leg, and shredded it between her fingers. “This mermaid paid a terrible price so that she could appear human, win the love of the man, and gain an immortal spirit, but in the end he fell in love with another of his kind, and she disintegrated into nothing more than foam. Somehow I think that little tale applies to your situation, Miss Wayneright. Surely you can see the similarities?”
“You are a thing of half-truths,” Dorothy said, “And yet you are an android like me. How can this be?”
The other smirked, but answered only with another question, “Just what are you looking for here? This place no longer has any part of you. Besides, you probably shouldn’t leave your man alone at such a critical time. Who knows what might happen?”
Dorothy didn’t like the way the woman smiled; it was full of nastiness and a strange undercurrent of forbidden knowledge—knowledge to be dispensed only in misleading fragments and cryptic clues. And as for any allusions to Roger being in danger, Dorothy was not concerned, he and Big O were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.
“Of course,” the woman said, “Your situation isn’t looking particularly good either.”
Abruptly, a herd of giant, pink robots, identical to those that Beck had used to capture her before, swarmed in through the open door. Last time they had taken her without a struggle, but now Dorothy had a newfound sense of identity and with it, the desire for self-preservation. As the first robot came towards her, snapping its lethal tail, she pushed off from the floor and jumped on it hard, squashing it into the floor. Another robot reached for her, and she grabbed its mechanical arms and snapped them out of their sockets. She let one clatter to the floor, but held onto the other, swinging it at the approaching foes like a baseball bat.
She slammed her weapon into the body of one of the attackers, causing a satisfying eruption of electrical sparks. Before she could go after the next, a shot rang out. Her arm fell limply to her side, a stream of oil pouring to the ground beside her. The gun was fired twice more and she collapsed as gaping holes appeared in her legs. She looked up and saw that the android was poised to shoot again, and that the remaining robots were swarming over her.
***
Roger Smith didn’t know what to do. He stood in Dorothy’s bedroom, staring blankly at the emptiness. She was gone, and he had no idea where she was. All he knew was that Beck must have been behind it, just as he had been every other time. Roger felt lost and alone; his mind overwhelmed with thoughts of f the terrible things that might have happened. He didn’t know what he would do if he never found her. He had never even told her that he…
Overwhelmed, he sat down on the floor, his head in his hands. His eyes burned and there was a lump in his throat that made him feel like he was choking. He had never even told her that he… that he… A drop of water ran from the corner of his eye, quickly followed by another, then another. He fought to control the rising tide of grief and despair but it would not be denied.
When his tears had slowed he wondered what Dorothy would think if she came in and saw him laying on the floor like this. When she had found him underground, consumed with irrational fear, she had taken his head into her lap and stroked his hair, her touch so gentle and comforting that he had dreamed of his mother. If she were here now, would she do the same? The memory of it soothed him and he closed his eyes. “I love you, Dorothy,” he whispered. Within moments he was sleeping.
His dream was all too familiar. There was the terrible sky filled with warring megadeuses where he was one of the many that were piloting them. His felt cold and empty in comparison to Big O even though it seemed to be an exact copy. He also saw the old visions of fire and the destruction of the world, but now there was a building rising out of the flames that looked astonishingly like the central tower of Paradigm. He saw himself wearing the clothes of a tired vagabond as he stepped inside the tower. There was a flash of blinding light and he felt the sensation of unmatchable joy as he was…released, that was the best way he could describe it. He saw Angel and he knew, although he couldn’t say how, that she was in terrible trouble. He woke to the sound of her calling his name.
“…Roger, Master Roger,” said Norman, “Are you all right sir?”
The butler was sitting next to him on the floor, a look of terrified concern on his face. Roger managed a weak smile to comfort his friend. “I think I’ll live,” he said, “but Dorothy is gone.”
“She is?” Norman said, “I never saw her leave, and no one has entered the building since you left.”
Roger sat up and rubbed his forehead, feeling the first twinges of a headache, “Dorothy is gone and I had a dream about Angel,” he said.
“I’m sure Miss Dorothy is all right sir,” the other man said comfortingly.
“There’s somewhere I have to go,” Roger said, standing up, “Is the Griffon ready?”
“I’ll go check, sir,” Norman said, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“No, I’m not sure,” Roger, answered. “But who is?”
The butler smiled and left. Roger changed out of his dirty, wrinkled suit, washed his face, and slicked back his hair. By the time he went down the stairs, the Griffon was ready to go. He tried to shake off the strange sense of foreboding that was clouding his senses, but it was if a gloomy fog had settled over him. Perhaps it was the nightmare that had done it, but whatever the reason, he was grim as he drove the car out of the garage and steered it in the direction of the abandoned Paradigm Tower.
)