Emanuelle Hooton
1/12/08
The Nameless One
It all started that fateful night at Prospero's party. We'd all been drinking quite a bit, so it was no surprise when some freaks from the orange room started telling fantastic stories of walking skeletons and a partygoer who wasn't really there. The oranges always had been the most imaginative. And thirsty.
We got back to partying and invited some blues over. They're ditzy bimbos, but they're good dancers and better, well, you know. Then he walked in. In fact, now I'm not even sure that it was a he. Anyway, complete silence fell over the room. If you've ever been to one of Prospero's parties, you know that once they get into full swing, nothing less than the force of a nuclear explosion could interrupt. At least, that's what we thought.
Lights in multiple hues of purple flashed along to the beat of the music. The DJ stood on a tall podium, nodding his head to the beat while mixing it up and flipping through his LPs looking for the next hit. A sea of people bobbed and weaved all over the dance floor, blurring into one another in the violet-tinged semi-darkness.
All of a sudden, everyone froze, caught motionless in whatever uncomfortable dance move they'd been in the middle of executing. Except for me.
The east door burst open, outlining the most terrifying figure I had ever seen. He, or rather it, glided silently across the room, not stopping for anyone or anything. As it paused to open the next set of doors, the apparition slowly pivoted where it stood, turning to look directly at . . . wait one second now, was it looking at me? As the apparition glided closer to where I was standing, I could make out the details of its appearance. Blood stained its clothes as if it had suddenly started bleeding out of its pores.
Yesss, the apparition intoned. You'll do, young one, you'll do.
"I'll . . . I'll what? What are you talking about?"
No time to explain. Come with meee.
Before I had a chance to protest, a rich sibilant whisper echoed through my head, drowning out all coherent thought. In the dim, cobwebby corner of my brain which was still functioning, I could feel myself walking forward slowly, awkwardly, as if I was Frankenstein's monster. Just as suddenly as it had started, the static noise abruptly ended, leaving me dizzy, and not a little disoriented.
"What do you want from me?!" I shouted.
My shouts went unheard, for I was standing alone in the midst of the one room even Crazy Prospy wouldn't enter. It was The Red Room, with its big black clock ticking ominously away. Actually, I was not quite alone, for the apparition was standing not three feet away to my left, but I had long since ceased to think of it as a person.
I have coomme, the apparition intoned. I have coomme, and I have brought the child you requested.
"Ookay, I have no idea what you're talking about, and I haven't been a child for quite a long time."
TO ME ALL ARE CHILDREN, FOR I HAVE LIVED FAR LONGER THAN YOU PUNY HUMANS CAN IMAGINE.
The eternally booming voice emanated from the clock. Wait WHAT!?
"Yeeaah, uh-huh, okay then . . . um, . . ." I had to keep babbling softly like a crazy person to keep from falling to my knees with the voice's force.
GIVE THE CHILD TO ME.
The apparition waved a hand, and the front of the clock swung open with a slight squeak. It picked up my body as my broken, detached mind silently observed without understanding. It placed me inside the clock, and even as it closed the glass door, a torrent of pent-up memories and feelings broke over my addled brain. Surprisingly, I did not become confused, but more alert and alive than ever. It made me just want to let go, let go, don't worry, it's ok, just lose yourself in the flow, let go . . .
No. I am me. Sometimes I'm not exactly sure who that is anymore, but I'm still me, and I won't just let that go. I'm worth fighting for.
NOW, NOW, NONE OF THAT. I JUST HAD TO JUMP THROUGH MULTIPLE HOOPS TO GET INTO THIS PARTY. THAT'S HARD, YOU KNOW, ESPECIALLY FOR A CLOCK. AND WITH PROSPERO'S TASTE? FORGET IT. NOW LETGO!!
"I said NO, you ignorant timepiece."
DON'T YOU DARE DEFY ME, YOU INSOLENT, INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE LAND-WALKER!! DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME? ABOUT MY HISTORY? HOW LONG I'VE LIVED, WHAT I'VE DONE? NO ONE RESISTS ME. I CAN UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WOULD, THOUGH. THAT'S PART OF WHY I CHOSE YOU.
"Wait, chose me? Why? For what?"
BECAUSE YOU'VE GOT FIRE. INTELLIGENCE. NOT TO MENTION YOU'RE STUBBORN AS HELL. YOU'VE GOT WHAT I NEED TO SURVIVE. I HAVE TO CHANGE, ADAPT. IT'S THE WAY OF THE WORLD, YOUNG ONE.
"You didn't answer my question, clock. Stop evading me. Answer . . . the . . . question."
Silence. Then, the flood of emotions broke over me again, faster and stronger than ever. Over it all, I could still hear the entity's booming voice, silencing my thoughts and objections, forcing me closer and closer to either the edge of insanity or the brink of infinity. The choice was mine. I didn't like either one, so I made my own choice.
I detached myself gradually from the torrent, while still immersing myself in a small trickle. Without warning, I punched through the flood, coming into abrupt contact with an ancient consciousness, more ancient by far than the entirety of human culture, and quite possibly older than the earth itself. This thing was no clock.
The clock was the closest thing it had to an avatar. And why not? Clocks work, well, like clockwork. All they need is for someone or something to wind them every so often, and as long as they have that, they will survive indefinitely. Still, it needed something more. It needed something human. This consciousness could easily extend a normal lifespan and prevent aging. Cool.
I let it in; I let it fill me up to remote corners I didn't even know I had. Our consciousnesses joined to such an extent that we were no longer separate. We were one. We felt the last bits of us leave the clock, and as we left, the clock disintegrated into ash. We wondered how long exactly we'd been in there.
As we returned to the purple room, we realized that not only were the partiers not frozen anymore, they were dead. We turned around slowly, with a natural ethereal grace that could not be learned anywhere. The apparition edged into our view. It stood there, with bodies strewn around him like so much trash. A maniacal grin spread sprawled across his disfigured features as he took a step toward us. How dare he?!
We attacked him; we battered him with all we had. In the fury of it all, I came back to myself a little. Why should I fight? This was not my battle. Then, a positively villainous idea took hold of me. I pulled away from the consciousness slowly, gently, until, my mind was mine again. I nudged the consciousness toward the apparition, and in its fury, it launched itself toward the blood-stained freak.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?
"Given you a taste of your own medicine, freak. I didn't really like the fact that you hijacked my brain, so I sent you to the apparition. Brilliant, huh?"
YOU INSOLENT FOOL!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE? THAT APPARITION IS THE RED DEATH! IT NOT ONLY SPREADS SICKNESS, IT IS THE SICKNESS. IT WILL DESTROY ME!
"Not my problem. You were ready to destroy me, why shouldn't I extend the same courtesy to you? It's called 'karma'."
WAIT, WAIT!! I HAVE THE POWER TO REVIVE ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS! I CAN DO THAT! WOULD YOU RATHER BE ALONE? BE TRAPPED HERE FOR THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIFE?
That made me pause a minute. All of my buddies, alive again? We could get out of here, be free! No. We would not be free. Plus, I'd still be trapped. But they'd be alive. Right there and then, I made my choice. I let a little bit in, just enough for its survival. Not all of its memories, and not even close to all of its power. The rest I left to burn with Death.
Now what?
The voice wasn't booming anymore. This time it really was a whisper. A real whisper.
"Now I let you go."
I divided it up into little sparks of life and sent it all out towards my friends, my buds lying around on the floor, dead. Their grey faces turned white, then a little pink. After a while they got up, but partying isn't really fun after a death experience. Everyone sort of wandered away, Prospero finally letting us out of his lavish prison.
Me? Well, I'm still here, here forever, guarding the ancient and the Death, lest they take their toll on the world again. I'm the only one who knows what they can do. I'll live an abnormally long life, hundreds of years probably. At the end of my life, they'll be released upon the world, and Judgment day will come. Everything will come to an end.
Don't feel bad for me. I know who I am. I never let go of that. I can't. I won't.