title: permutation
author: gophish
e-mail: elreeder@comcast.net
rating: pg
classification: Sydney pov, mission, stream of consciousness
summary: an interactive subconscious trip through reality
disclaimer: none of these characters belong to me.
WARNING: this work is intended to be somewhat interactive. reference links have been provided throughout the piece to enhance the overall clarity and enjoyment. if you'd like to play along, you have two options [1] you can read from here, cutting and pasting the links [granted they don't work] taking you to the reference pages as you progress, or [2] you can visit http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/permutation.html and read there, clicking on the links when as they come along. either option works fine, just fine.
…begin…
his shirt was green. hunter, really, but who calls anything hunter? it was green. thick and heavy. [like emotion] wrapped against his skin like soft cottony armor, keeping her safely outside himself. [delicate boundaries; puddles; deserts; ice-storms; extreme boundaries] she wanted so much to break into that shell of masculinity, manipulate the tender essence of being hiding beneath his dark green plating. it was interesting, this dichotomy. him in his nice shirt, her in her bathrobe. [questionable reality] she wasn't one to notice things like that, not her; certainly not him. seventeen flickering candles placed haphazardly/strategically around the bedroom. the sound of a smooth electric guitar pouring from the stereo; the artist unfamiliar, not necessary. [purely mood driven] the pillows that pressed up against his torso contour around his body, his eyes focused inside hers, candles parading all around them. [burning subconscious reflections] glistening moisture on his lips, tiny beads of sweat clinging on to hers. this final boundary she staggered towards, seconds from falling into his beautiful deliciousness. [tapping on the window: tip-tip-tip-tip-tip] unassumingly, she turns away to face the slightly tilted, heavily outlined window. pressed between two overgrown shrubs outside in such a typically ordinary blue shirt/gold tie stood Will. [Will is looking…] as his lips moved she could hear his words as if no glass or bricked dry wall was between them at all. [where are you, Syd? tip-tip-tip-tip-tip] his face perplexed and confused as he kept on: [Will is looking for…where are you, Syd?] electric guitar skipping, candles rapidly extinguishing one-by-one, the green shirt disappearing; turning to
WHITE
[ceiling] [conscious] [phone ringing] [reality] [eyes wide] 9:12 AM bright green.
reached over the empty pillows, grabbing for the headset. -hel—[throat dry]—hello?
-Syd? you're still in bed…I've been waiting here for twenty minutes almost and you're still in bed? what are you doing? [three questions]
she covers her newly woken eyes as if anyone could actually stand witness to whatever embarrassment had come over her. –I'm so sorry Will. I promise I'll be there in like—9:14 AM bright green—fifteen minutes, twenty tops. promise.
-OK, but I'll have you to blame for all of the caffeine I'm pouring down my throat right now. hurry up, you.
-I—[he had hung up]. with such a simple and stupid corny line like that, he had hung up.
she threw herself together in minutes. slacks, shirt, sandals, splash of scent. it was unfortunate he was so forgiving; how the only thing was the caffeine. [unbecoming] regardless, he was waiting, and she had promised.
she reached the little coffee shop where she could see Will sitting outside. he looked up as she passed. she waved; saw the coffee, the paper, the gold tie. [she loved him, knew she did] she parked and walked around the knee-high gate [more like a flower fence] to the little iron tables. this place was nice. Francie had introduced them to it years ago. she liked it for both its name [Inaudible Melodies] and its décor [1940s newspaper clippings shellacked to the tabletops] she had an eye for that. for a coffee shop, it played fantastic music; Francie always said, although convinced there was some deeper, complicated meaning behind it, the name meant that if you were having your coffee as you should—[accompanied with stimulating conversation]—that the good music playing overhead wouldn't even matter. [Will was enjoying the music]
-hey.
she put her bag on the table [2 October 1940 Bethlehem Globe Times: Library Co-Operating In National Defense : The Bethlehem Public Library is falling in line with other civic and educational agencies in the industrial training for national defense program. http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/clippings.html ] right next to the black rimmed pot Will was drinking from.
-I'm really sorry. -gave out one of those smiles [please]
-don't worry about it. here, sit. -he pushed aside his belonging, to give her more room. [wanting her there; punctuality irrelevant]
how funny. simple. compassionate. friendly. her tardiness so easily forgotten. she smiled again, this time genuine. ordered a latte. watched as he spoke to her, sipped his coffee [some on his lip, his gold tie] he held up the newspaper, pointing.
-over seventeen thousand [the music was nice, so was the latte] –his statistical review of modern Arabic pottery a distraction; the gold tie had a paisley design stitched into the fabric that caught the sunlight every time he inhaled.
[http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/music.html]
[come away with me in the nights…come away with me…and I will write you a song…come away with me on a bus…come away where they can't tempt us…with their lies] the way he broke into conversations, building on those things around him which he was more comfortable with; the newspaper, coffee. [I want to walk with you…on a cloudy day…in fields where the yellow grass grows…knee-high…so won't you try to come.]
realization : he had nothing to say. nothing. this coffee shop meeting [red herring] was nothing. she smiled and sipped. vocalization : -thanks for having coffee with me.
-thanks for getting out of bed for me. [sarcasm]
[ring] she had put one of those dreadful high-pitched rolling sounds on her phone, distinguishing it from others [bandwagon] Will's eyes squinted. he knew. poured coffee.
-work.
she knew what he was thinking. after she hung up, it came out. –when are you going to tell that stupid bank of yours to screw off already?
-Will, you know I - [smile]
-I know, Syd, but look at you. you're worn; c'mon, I don't even work that hard. latte had gone cold.
-I'll see you later, k? purse. keys. jackie-o sunglasses that didn't really suit her. [smile] -thanks again.
-be careful. she cocked her head to the side [left]
the warehouse was cool. damp. chain-linked fencing. faint green glow from flickering fluorescence. the works. by the heavy wooden electrical spools. one had been turned over [makeshift table] his shadowy figure barely visible. scary at first. then familiar. broad shoulders, black suit [green tie]
-whatever these blueprints are, credible or not, Devlin wants copies of them. we're not sure this is a serious weapon arsenal or not, but it's definitely something we can't just sit on. apparently sd-6 has more information than we do about the remaining Hassan dynasty. all we know is that they've moved north into the Yemen Republic. after that we lost track, so the CIA needs as much information as you can get. –he pulled out a gold roped headband from his briefcase. it was adorned with pearls on either ends; no doubt a camera. –wear this. Yemeni women wear veils mostly to avoid male harassment rather than tradition, however, you should fit in fairly nice with this. [demonstration] press the right side to snap the photo. get what you can. –he handed it off to her. she stood to receive it, pushing herself up. brief moment when their eyes met, he smirked [not a smile] she looked down to avoid looking like a little girl. –you know, I've been thinking about something you said a while back; that we should go see the Kings play [pause] well I think maybe we should do something like that, you know. I mean, if you –
-I would. –she put her hands in her back pockets, glared down at the cement floor [looked like a little girl]
-I mean, it doesn't have to be a Kings game, it doesn't even have to be hockey. hockey's good, though. [stumbling] or maybe I'm just trying to coast through this right now. maybe I –
-I'm not asking for the rest of your life Vaughn. [little boy] just a hockey game. [smile] see you when I get back. –harsh transition back into daylight. pupils almost non-existent, squinting no use, the flushing pain of the piercing California sun. can't help but look up at it [like a car accident] yet still attempting to protect herself with her forearm…
[ http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/yemen.html ]
the bright rays mixing with the desert sand. [dry] the heat evaporating as quick as it blends with the melting air. sweat beads atop her forehead glistening against the black hijab. Aden, a large city on the gulf. Dixon was stationed on the top floor of a nearby apartment home. a desolate place, poorly constructed out of wood and concrete. [urban wasteland] the temple she was entering, however, had been made of stone, maybe marble, maybe granite. she was in sharp view of the binoculars until completely inside.
-Dixon, copy? -soft black fabric blowing with the steady coastal breeze. surprisingly cool.
-yeah Syd. nice view, actually. –the blue-green water sharp contrast with the brown/red sand. [task] he watched her disappear behind the large columns at the entrance.
no door. clay floors. typically middle-eastern. women sitting on the ground in circles with children. [-when you first walk in the temple be sure to notice the architecture. it's really stunning. it's actually where they filmed the old 40s film Arabian Nights with Jon Hall and Maria Montez. old Universal flick. their first 3-color Technicolor feature. it was on AMC about a week ago, which is sort of ironic because, like, we really didn't know anything about this, and now we do, and I watched it.
[http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/arabian.html] popcorn, pretzels, coke. coca-cola that is. haven't done that stuff since… right. –Marshall went on. –you'll have this. isn't this cool? I dated a girl in high school that used to wear these all the time. girls used to love me. some, I'm sure still do, right? it's a bracelet but it wraps around the top of your hand and clasps around the middle finger. cool, huh? kind of like hand-mail. like chain-mail? hand-mail. so turn it over—bingo. scanner. just scan the prints, it stores memory in this little tiny computer chip in the clasp. not quite what they used to wear in the 70s, but…] she turned the corner and headed down the long corridors full of women.
Islamic art decorated both sides of the hall. intricate oils, acrylics, textiles, framed scripts. four guards in front of the steel doors.
[whisper] -Dixon, Sloane didn't say anything about guards did he?
-how many?
-four. –she stood inconspicuously admiring a grey/blue tapestry hanging. contemporary, geometric. a little etched copper Arabic description was nailed to the wall beside it. [code:MIS7 : "The horseman" 85*140cm.-oil on linen-$1900.00US Artist: Saleh M.Ibrahim. http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/tapestry.html] –there's no way in from here.
-hold on Syd, I'm looking for another way. –black briefcase. black laptop. screen full of numbers [analysis] -looks like you can go in through the courtyard. go back out and around the left side; you should see a small grate. four feet or so; you're going to have to crawl.
-on my way [outside]
-that should lead you to a spot where you can drop down into the vault. I've got nothing here about a guarded area, so you should be okay.
reached the small grate. opened it. children playing together. gesture: [shhh…] they responded: [shhh…] crawled in. felt like two feet.
-I'm in. –maneuvering through the shaft. reached the open space. glared down; empty minus chests and shelves. hand on the edge. flip once, onto the floor. [steel room]
-Dixon, this room is different; temperature controlled maybe? [pause] Dixon? Dixon? [three questions] radio silence. alone. five chests; start with one on the right. [no] left [no] left [open] stacks of papers. Arabic. English. Chinese. Russian. Italian. –Dixon, do you copy? designs. codes. plans. nuclear. [http://www,geocities.com/mindofgophish/blueprints.html ] she pressed on the side of the headband. [snap] scanned with the bracelet. footsteps…she looked up; no one [snap] hissing sound…she looked up; behind a shelf. smoke billowed slowly from under the wall. [accelerating] -Dixon? -shoved everything back in the chest and stood up. small gate above fell down, closing off the small crawlspace. [trapped] -Dixon, come in. do you copy? – Dixon! -room completely full of smoke. visibility = 0. the floor, the ceiling, the walls, increasingly more black [closer, closer] until….
OUT
[guards] [conscious] [Dixon] [reality] [eyes hazy] arms wrapped behind the chair, tied.
she sat right across from Dixon, who had been awake longer. blood dripping down the side of his check. eye bruised. swollen. [squinting] the four guards stood in front of them; man in the middle of them. familiar face. features different. Kadhir Hassan. he was dressed very well. clean. navy wool jubba, traditionally worn by scholars or students. very respected. on his feet he wore woven leather slippers. look ostrich, from the color.
-Sydney Bristow. –his mustache thick, dark; skin brown, heavy. –why are you here? [nothing] why are you here? -like his brother; no patience. the guard closest to her twisted around the end of his gun to slap her jaw. blood spewed from her mouth, landing on the brown leather slippers. [smile] he calmly pulled a white handkerchief from his back pocket, reached down and wiped it off. raising up, cloth still in hand. –maybe a more direct question will prompt a response. –Dixon's head was going limp. [consciousness fading] bobbing. the blood drying on his face. –where is my brother? [nothing] -he walked closer, bending over towards her face. he brushed her cheek with the rag. –ms. Bristow, you are more beautiful than I would have imagined. [raised up] so I will ask for the final time. where. is. my. brother. Ineni? [nothing] -Dixon was completely still; chin to chest. Hassan pointed to the guard that had struck her. [Arabic] -shoot them. –he turned to make his way out.
-what makes you think he is alive? -Dixon breathing heavy. steady breaths; rhythmic.
Hassan rotated slowly around, walked back towards her, leaned down once again. he pressed his lips against her ear. she could feel his warm, wet mouth opening in whisper. –what makes you think you are the only mole inside SD-6? [nothing]
again, stood up and turned to leave. Dixon, breathing [-.- -. .. ..-. .] in and out [-- -.-- / .... .- -. -.. ] in and out [--- -. . / --- -. / .-. .. --. .... -] Cuba, with dad. [http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/morse.html]
he walked through the open doorframe, -agent Bristow, when I see my brother, I will enjoy informing him of your death. –not a glace back as Dixon came loose. the knife fell to the ground. hands gripped in each other, he struck the one on the right, closest to him to the floor, rendering him unconscious. the three other guards go for him. no fire. Sydney's feet bound together; she kicks at the feet of the guard closest to her. [sweep] when his body hit the floor, her legs wrapped around his neck. [twist] snapping. Dixon fought off his guard while the other focused his attention on Sydney. Kadhir took the opportunity to run, disappearing down the hall of art and down a thin metal ladder she hadn't noticed earlier. [attention gone] the guard got to her, ramming his heavy fist into her diaphragm. [couldn't breathe] he held his gun up towards her face. she could see the long empty steel barrel, feel its cool potential. [6 years old, talent show 2nd place, 9 years old, 15 years old, Robert McMurphy, 18 years old, 24 years old, Christmas, two months ago, last week, grocery store] Dixon retrieved his guard's gun. he shoved the end into the his chest, pushing him against the wall. [snap] head quick to the left, body slid down the wall. [shot] Sydney's face, expressionless. eyes; wide, breathing stopped, mouth barely open, lips dry. the last guard fell to his knees, in front of her; dropped to the side. dead.
-you ok? -Dixon grabbed the knife from under the chair he was tied to and walked behind her. [slice] she brought her hands around, rubbing her red wrists.
-yeah, u?
-fine. did you managed to get any pictures of the prints? -cutting at the rope around her feet. [thick]
-got only got a chance to get a couple. maybe three. four. I…-she reached up, realizing that her hijab was gone, along with the headband. her face must have given her away.
-what is it Syd?
-nothing. I'm going after Hassan. see if you can't get back to the blueprints. take this. [bracelet] -she started down the hall; focused on the poorly constructed ladder. she arrived. descended. straight down. feet leading, hands following, head down. [darkness] she moved quickly. END. the room was cool, cavern-like. eyes adjusting….two shafts like before. [escape passage] no time to guess. crawled into the one on the left. [Arabic: she might have been able to get past the guards] Hassan. [Arabic: gather everything] she could only imagine where he was; kept crawling. end in site. wrong way? led to an overhead duct system. she could see lights underneath her: green. flickering. secret. the long thick tubes, supplying air to the well constructed fall-outs, appeared to be sturdy enough to hold her. [balance] she crawled slowly; could make out Hassan. [Arabic: everything that can fit] several other people; a white coat, blue suits, a woman, western. a large grate moved toward them by means of conveyer. the woman reached to open it. she crawled further onto the duct. [ripppppp] complete arsenal. moved further. [rippppppp] the duct was coming undone. stood still, turned some. ripping from the ledge, nothing underneath. slowly started back…forehead hot, sweat beads. [calm and collected] looked down, loading onto a truck. Hassan smoking, flicking his cigarette butts next to cases of miscellaneous warfare. steadily, she maneuvered towards the edge. almost there. [rippppppp] the duct came loose completely; she held on. swinging. [Arabic: shoot her!] gunshots going off one after another. swinging. hitting the swaying duct. she jumped. landed on a metal roof support; pulled up her feet.. [spark] bullets hitting metal all around her. scurried to the wall, maked it to the ledge. [spark] grabbed onto the shaft, swung herself up and scuttled back through to the ladder. she could feel herself breathing; could feel every ounce of oxygen through her body. hair drenched, she climbed up the ladder, to the temple floor. [warmer] every single gasp of air an effort. she ran straight for the front; passed the children in the courtyard, the women in black. dust blew everywhere. [helicopter] Dixon. she ran towards him, her soft fabric blowing in frenzy. his hand out. she grabbed on and hoisted herself up. [blueprints in his lap] sat back, felt every dirty breath oozing inside her lungs. eyes closed, she opened them to look at Dixon. he gave her his palm; she put hers on top. [smile] closed her eyes, tiny little lights glistening in the darkness; the haziness of morning creeping in, she drifted…
[http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/losangeles.html]
he sat this time, on top of the oversized wooden spools. his jacket was black. maybe navy blue [red tie]
-sorry I—
[cut off] -don't worry. Devlin says that the knowledge alone was worth the trip. –what a unoriginal overworked phrase. [contrived] -after you left we were able to track Kadhir and whoever was with him in the Rub Al Khuli boundaries. they've already got a Saudi team on it. [news report] -fluorescent green lights about to go out, crackling. [purely mood driven] -so I've thought about the whole Kings game. I think it would be good. [little boy] we should go. together.
[smile] –ok. I'm going to hold you to that. I'll see you around, ok? [big girl] -he smiled in return, the grin.
she turned. threw down her jumbo sunglasses over eyes, preparing herself for the light outside; walked away and out onto the Los Angeles street. a good cup of coffee would do her good. some good music. a friend. she pulled out her phone and dialed those familiar digits. [nothing] alone would be nice too. she made her way towards Inaudible Melodies. there was a table out on the patio, conveniently nudged into a corner by the small fence. the only one without articles on top. [advertisements] most war propaganda; Hitler imitations; homeland trade. one in the midst that she particularly liked, unlike the others. always appropriate. [the best of both worlds] she sat down. this time, espresso. music instrumental. she read. [This is a matter of two halves making a nice whole! A fine wool frock that has seen better days and a long sleeve blouse…] [http://www.geocities.com/mindofgophish/ads.html]
…end…
a/n: [1] "Inaudible Melodies" is a homage to the first track off of "Brushfire Fairytales" by Jack Johnson. if you have NOT purchased this album, go buy it now. even if you have never heard a single song, take my word for it…it's that good. [2] I tried to be as thorough as possible with the references (i.e. clippings, Yemeni tradition, advertisements, etc.) but if I've missed something or am totally off base, well, I tried. [3] thanks to hil as always for keeping me grounded and rationalizing my thought process. otherwise Will would have given her a fish at the end. lovekins.