Intertwined Singularities

Part I-A


She clung to him for a while after he got there and he could clearly see the distress in her eyes not hidden by anything. Had Lucens finally exhausted all the schemes and trump cards? Surely not, that kid was more imaginative than a pantomime with an invisible piano pending to fell on his back. Then…. Then that, huh? Nasty. Oh well, it had to happen one day and what better day than today, right?


Jethro didn’t follow him all the way here, said he’ll stop by Deserto, for a drink…. How considerate of him to leave them some privacy. How predictable, as well. The face looking back from the mirror, this morning…..didn’t feel exactly like his, as if it was a mask coming undone and at the corners he could already see shreds of it, hanging down…. Yet it didn’t frighten him. He would be the biggest wuss out there – to quote Jethro - if he would flip out this time as well. So in those fifteen minutes while the shower water poured on him, cleansing him, once more, he decided that no matter, how things are going to play out in the end, he would stress no more. He was not the one to cope well under stress as evidence has proved already, therefore…even if, situated 180 degrees from the two days ago’s conviction, he won’t be deterred away from this commitment. He wasn’t even sounding like himself, anymore. He was trying to piece together his thoughts yet they would run away from him, scattering in all directions and the only thing he could lay to rest and ponder upon, was Jethro’s utter hopelessness and desolation… Too bad, he didn’t have much time to baby-sit anymore.


“You must be famished. Can I get you something…. I’m not really sure that I can vouch on how eatable the products might be but I’ll taste them for you, first. That way if it’s something lethal, it will come undone.” If something was bothering him was the fact that many lonely people will be left even more alone, after tomorrow. Not that he was such a hero or a poignant figure in this little enterprise of theirs but one could say that he was dependable. At least the Supervisor could always depend on him…. In those very scarce occasions when a drop of blood too many was being spilled or when everything before their eyes, seemed to so easily, disintegrate, Lucens would simply call the situation as she saw it and consider to do the thing she dreaded most but he was there and somehow each of those times they seemed to pull it off and virtually see the dawn of another day. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking from his part. All this experience from when it started, only God knows and up till now…. felt like a lucid dream. Every time he died seemed like a déjà vu as if the mind apprehensive as it was, detached itself from the imminent source of distress and watched everything in slow motion…. Wanting to delay the inevitable and thus ending by purifying an experience – excruciating in the first place…


“It’s alright. Please. You don’t have to bother yourself with anything.” With the way he felt, so on the edge, he doubted he could store anything inside himself for more that a couple of seconds. He shouldn’t have taken the dose before they left but the coward in him, prevailed once more: ‘Is gonna be better if you’re numb, silly. You know I’m right.’ Be that as it may that wasn’t going to change anything when the adrenaline rush would be over and he’ll be left shaking in a puddle of his own sweat and God knows what.


“I see Jethro’s still upset…It’s so not like to act so immature. He knows that I had good intentions and yet he uses this grudge as a means for flagellation… Please ignore this dramatic moment, it’s just that I expected more from you, Jack. And I know that you know what I mean…. Damnit…good thing you came, I really felt like bitching for a while now.” Poor Supervisor, you’re so tired and conundrums just keep piling upon you instead of giving you a break. Will he be able to miss you, wherever he’ll get himself committed? Geez and he promised himself he wouldn’t get like this… The serotonin level must be really low. Or maybe this is just a normal. It’s the classical "dead man walking" feeling.


“I’m sorry.”But it wasn’t that simple now, was it? You say the word and everything magically gets better. Nothing you can do, though…when “luck” hasn’t been written in your stars.


“Yeah, me too. Hell, we all fuckin' are. Son of a bitch. Fuck it, just fuck it. It’s not fair.” Poor Supervisor….He guesses they’re both some pretty sorry sight just about now, with Lucens crying and he leaning to catch her. He never knew the wall could feel so warm and the floor so inviting. The girl’s body pulsing so fast, having trouble breathing. Her time’s coming, too, huh? That’s not fair either but she doesn’t care about that. Because she chose this path of obvious no return. She with her own hand took that man’s eye and let it work its poison into her bloodstream while he on the other hand, was a casual victim – collateral. All that, didn’t matter anymore. Cards dealt or undealt, he wasn’t going to let them stall him, anymore.


“You’re going to have a pretty good laugh when all this is over. Swear it.” He could already hear her, chuckle but he didn’t have the resources to sweeten such a dreadful affair and certainly he didn’t have the emotional unavailability that all the others seemed to posses. So however affected he might sound, for the next few hours he’ll act the hell he’ll want and finally he’d tell that idiot, some piece of his mind…. It ain’t over till the fat lady sings, right? No matter what.


“I’ll make sure Deserto’s around.” She says between sobs muffled by his suede jacket. He smells so fresh, he shaved as well. Ran out of his after-shave and used Jethro’s, yet it doesn’t smell like him at all. On his skin, the stench – as Des called it, sneezing whenever Jethro’s was near her – is somehow mellow, subtle, barely perceptible, infused totally within the flesh. He’s gotten a bit of that fool, after all. How sweet was that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hasn’t anyone taught you how to knock, man?” He’s sitting across the improvised bar on a “has seen better days” stool. There are clothes thrown around everywhere. The ceiling fan is out of order and the only source of light comes from outside a cubicle in the wall…. The quarter makes graveyards look like cheerful places.


“Honestly, no. And by the way, I know you like to wear your misery all over you but don’t you think this is a bit too much?”


“They aren’t complaining.”


“They don’t actually need space, now….do they?”


“Whatever…. I heard about Amsters. Sucks, kid.”


“I was on to something…. Why change the subject?”


“Cuz my cleaning habits should be your last concern.”


“Where’re you hoarding all the booze, Captain?”


“That stuff ain’t for you. Considering how it used to knock me out for hours in the beginning and how it still contorts my perception of reality, I don’t recommend it…”


“You can dilute it with water, then.” He just needed it to make the best out of the day and what better way than being under the influence?


“You know that you’re bordering on lame slash get a life, right….General?”


“Please, rub it in.”


“Everybody else does it to me.”


“Yeah, why outsmart them, when you can lower yourself at their level? Brilliant.”


‘That sugar talking ain’t gonna make wanna jump off a building, you know? Shouldn’t you try to sweetly coerce me into giving you a sip?”


“Just forget it. Ignore me.”


“Sucks having trouble in paradise.”


“Talk about an understatement. Are you wearing your shirt inside, out?”


“It’s the latest trend, haven’t you heard? So tell me when you're about to declare you eternal love and and admiration, I need a heads-up in order to make popcorn.”


“You’re not helping.”


“Nor am I trying to, but you were the one that came to steal the liquor. I ought to ground you.”


“It’s not that I find it complicated to express my feelings. I’m perfectly capable of doing that.” That’s why Amsters did what he did, because he was that good of a socially skilled incongruent, thickheaded idiot. Damnit, didn’t he say that he wasn’t going to take the blame for… When did this metamorphosis take place…. When did he become like this….when did he grow this outer skin that seem to whiter all the things he touched. When did he get lost in translation? And why did no-one warn him? Why the fuck did all those Prerogatives wreak havoc for everyone but himself? When the hell, did he become an impotent?


“You’re asking the wrong question, kid.”


“Don’t call me that and how do you know what I’m thinking?”


“I’m a nuclear physicist, Jethro, rocket science it’s what I do, amigo.” The right question? But he already knew the answer to that and he was completely opposed to it.


“Then you better run it by him as well.”


“Will you stop that?”


“You were thinking rather aloud. And besides, I’m right…and you don’t find the village idiot being right that often.”


“But there’s no way to pull it off.” Amsters died how many times, already? More than a couple frickin thousand times…. There were no more ways, he exhaust them all. fuckin’ Structures, fuckin’ system. Out of all the people out there, Amsters had to be the lucky son of a bitch of remaining mortal for the entire time they were in here…. And as any mortal does, any mortal dies….but Jack couldn’t die, now, could he? That would mean he’d be free and “free” is not exactly a notion that works well for them. Not when they’re addicted to their pawns and more so to fresh blood….which they both were. But as the Guidelines states, one has to be left outside the running track, uninvolved and unspoiled, in good health, preserved and protected by the Letter of the Prerogatives – and he had the misfortune to draw the winning ticket, while Jack had to deal with finding each and every time, another and also, a more horrifying way of dying cuz that’s how he had to continue to exist from day to day, by dying…..God, he’d seem him die how many times before he snapped out? After ten, fifteen times, he took off….and left Amsters, all alone, lonely as lonely can get….He truly was a remarkable mate, he means, how more loyal can one get? Leaving the defenseless man out there, in the frickin’ middle of…of what?


“You did what anyone in your place would’ve done, desperado boy… It’s useless to poke your eyes out, now…And remorse is a two way pain in the ass…..Advise you to get rid of that as soon as possible.”


“And what else is there in that fortune-telling bag of yours, Captain? Magic beans, flying brooms, frickin’ wands? We had a life!!!”


“But you see…. You didn’t have a life. You had an impression of what life should be…. Where you’ve come from there was no actual consistent life…. Just Doxa and Pixtis….this was your life, Jethro, even before getting into being. You never left a “life” in the beginning because there was none, just the appearance of it. It’s fucked up really bad I know but that’s how it is….. that’s how it works….At least that’s how it worked.”


“What do you mean?” He stopped losing his footing after the first couple of times he’d heard that story…. Story, even now he could believe it after everything they’d showed him, his mind was still trying to protect itself from the unfathomable.


“Apparently there’s no more potentiality of any sort for that matter… The Dream Factory has ran out of raw material…. The ones that you see here: me, you, Valentine, those four individuals that waste time in Metexis, you know the ones with the suns and whatever, Ezechiel, the two Auditors and their boss, Santos, Lucens and the so called bodyguards, what’s left of the Apostles and that strategist, Mezer….and Jack, of course… All in all, less then thirty… And now, please take a moment and admire my mathematical skills…. It’s all falling apart but before that we’ll be the ones to disappear first.”


“So Luce?”


“The Supervisor has a plan but I’ve been too much of a skeptic all my life to start believing in miracles now.”


“But it is possible.”


“Even more so.”


“Then, why all the doubt?”


“Cuz the clock is ticking and there ain’t much time left.”


“You mean she’s going to…?”


“Yes.”


“And there’s no…?”


“Other way? Well there is but she’ll have to forfeit her life either way. As all the others have done. But that’s talk for another time, you need to get back now. He’ll need you if he wants to go through with the defying. And here, please, take all the bottle with you. Tell the kid I said hello. And obviously, I don’t have to tell, not to screw it up.”


“Thanks for the Lachrymose, Captain.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knows that he cares for him…but every time they ventured past the rabbit hole, only one would literally leap into it, leaving the other one stranded and somehow disappointed…. At least his perception was always distraught and fuzzy and Jethro was always, like “whatever” and after a while, Jethro was no more and he was left with a cat split in two plains of existence: the half with the tail in theirs and the other half, God knows where, a book with different ways of sun-bathing and a roofless home.


And now, he’s thinking of butterflies in a white solstice, pretty random one would say if it weren’t for all those butterflies hitting the floor and leaving others to take their places, always flipping their wings, frantically.Butterflies could not exist here, not enough will for their existence to be sustained. Too many tired faces, plagued by consequences to dare and paint what’s left of the decaying world, in colour. So they started with him because he was the weakest and came uninvited, he hadn’t an actual role, was more for their amusement though he often wondered if them….the Prerogatives weren’t just projections of their sinful souls and then he wondered how come everyone plays the make belief part but no-one passes by the piping hole or maybe it was no longer a matter of that and more of the obvious trials and tribulations, that subsistence brought….But now…he was just high and he wasn’t making any sense….


“Mornin’ to you, Amsters.” That silky voice was familiar but the body that pertained to, was long gone…”What’s wrong friend, your eyes are glassy, you haven’t done anything stupid, now….I hope.”


“I am hallucinating.”


“You know that I didn’t technically died, right, unlike you….we’re not into dying and rotting, decomposing and festering. We’re more of knocking continuously at different people’s doors.”


“Like you did that day.”


“Yeah, exactly….though that day I was merely lost and looking for directions.”


“You’ve come to greet the obvious…. To let me part away with some heart-wrenching farewell message.”


“You know kid that I like you but if you weren’t so out of it right now, I’d beat some sense into you.”


“What do you want, old man? I’m tired.”


“You’re an idiot that’s what you are and to think I wasted my breath by kissing you.”


He completely forgot about him. Mezer came one, lodged with him for a while and then, left just as he came, unexpectedly. But by then, he already had past experiences to learn from so he wasn’t really, so taken aback when one morning he woke up to see the man that slept on Jethro’s couch, gone. He wore glasses with mauve lenses and he always smelled as if he’d smoked just as he was about to enter the door… That first day, Mezer didn’t find a pretty sight. He just had taken a cocktail and didn’t have to wait long for it to kick in. God, that’s what one could call a slow, agonizing death because it started by affecting the nerve endings on his extremities, sending the muscles on his limbs into involuntarily spasms….the brain trying to cope with abnormal signals it was receiving. By the time Mezer arrived, he already couldn’t move …. yet the experience was as vivid as it could get. He was bleeding and his insides felt like they were covered in a layer of sizzling acid and there still was a hell of a lot to go…. He could hear the man swearing but his sight was obturated by blood mixed with resilient tears….


His vocal cords were useless by now and all he could do was blink and draw insufficient breaths of air. “Wait a sec. Let me get a cloth or something, you’re so bloodied…What the hell did you do to yourself?” Mezer wiped his faces and his fingernails and hold him for what it was worth. He didn’t talk at all while doing this just wrapping his hand around him and stroked him lightly. And just like that, it was over and when he woke up, he was still in that stranger’s arms who looked really worn out and disconnected, not upset or horrified , just, really, really…distressed and discontent…. When he tried to move, the man, unconsciously, hold him even tighter, breathing harshly as if holding back, tears or anger. So he did the only thing that came to mind, raised his hand and touched the man’s face which wasn’t shaved but other than that was pretty tender, he stretched his neck and look at the open eyes that were starring absently and when he felt the lips, the stranger got startled, woken up from his reverie, he pushed him away and inched out of the bed. And just as he was about to leave, the stranger shuddered as if shaking off a hang-over and turned back to face him, then he smiled and introduced himself as Mezer…


“Who asked you to?”


“You as far as I recall. Come on, don’t be like that, we shared some pretty good moments, you got to admit that.” But moments were so relative here and so were the people who weren’t at all what they looked like and whose actions could not be traced back by following logic or sense. Like losing your virginity. Since when was slipping together with someone, of critical importance? “Since it’s an act that implies more than raw contact and uninhibited emotions. Since it has a meaning and that’s all that counts, right…Jack? It doesn’t have to go all the nine yards and have all the strings attached, for it to matter.”


The voice’s attached to a hand, now… a hand that’s patting his shoulder. A warm hand belonging to a warm body….and even though it’s just for a second, he leans into the embrace.

TBC
R&R

*Doxa's Greek for Shadows
*Pistis is Greek for Belief