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3rd Person Pseudo-omniscient

Mon, Aug 20, 2001 01:56PM -0600


He felt as if something had turned in him, like something had been knocked askew as he passed her by in the hallway. She was surrounded by a throng of admirers, but he managed to steal a glimpse of her smile that he was almost sure was not meant for him. The feeling did not registered immediately--he walked down the hall and into the stairwell, numbly, almost knocking an innocent bystander down a flight of stairs. But he meditated on this as he walked silently across the parking lot, letting the feeling radiate through his body, and wondered what sort of chemical might help get him "turned back."

And now for something a bit more bizarre:

The Revolutionary Army marched through the hallowed passages of the Limbic System, wielding anything from pitchforks and daggers to subautomatic machine guns and rocket launchers. A Revolution had begun. Things were going to change. Out with the old, in with the new. The oppression of the Old Order was to be destroyed. The Past would be forgotten and History would be rewritten. In the New Order only the Present mattered, and once in a while they might give thought to the Future, but only insofar as the Present was concerned.

But Revolutions are not orderly things, and while some of the Old Order had indeed been ejected and imprisoned, if not outrightly executed, resistance continued. Pockets of Reactionary Forces held out. They did not heed the Call, did not believe in the New Way, even if they knew that the Old Way was running things straight into the ground. Only idiots believed that Change was not coming. But it was really a question of whether to let go of their positions of power, or whether to hold on tight until everything collapsed into a heap of anarchy and blood.

This is going nowhere fast...the scene that flashed into my mind was this: (Don't ask me how I got from here to there.)

So the Fearless Leader and his Revolutionary Army stood before the Root of Despair deep within the Caves of the Limbic System. Indeed it was a root, glowing blue and singing. [I imagine some sort of Cure song emanating from the root at this point. Maybe "Trust". "The Loudest Sound" would do in a pinch as well.] This was one of the causes of great suffering in the Land, and yet the myths spoke of it as the heart of everything. If the old wives tales were to be believed, destroying it might very well mean destroying the Land as well.

So the vast Army murmurred and muttered to themselves, unsure of what to do. The Old Way must be obliterated. All the superstitious fancies and other irrationalities must be subsumed by the New Way. And yet here was something that felt--dare they say it?--almost sacred. The Fearless Leader, a little angry at himself for feeling a little fear, decided thus: "We will leave it for now. There are more pressing matters. We will take care of it later." And the Army quailed a bit. Now they weren't so sure about what they were getting into.

Dear God, where in the hell did that come from? I will leave it be, and ponder it when Time has passed....

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