Eye of a Needle
(Excerpts from the journal of Alexander Hartdegen)
Part IV: Speaker for the Dead
October 10th, 802,701
Darling Emma,
Please forgive my outburst of a few days ago. At the time it seemed vastly
important that I make some record of my discovery, but I wished so fervently
to act upon it, and it startled me so, that I was not able to write at any length.
I shall attempt to record the recent events as well as I can; I must begin this
tale shortly before I last wrote you.
On the morning of the eighth, I sat with Kalen in our dwelling, taking shelter from
the especially heavy rain outside. (Finally, a storm violent enough to convince the
Eloi to stay inside.) Mara was setting some herbs to dry (as best she could, given
the damp weather). Needle still remained missing; none had seen her since the Morlock
attack.
At Kalen's request, we were looking over these letters, that he might better gain a
better grasp of spelling and grammar. As I re-read these records, a number of factors
suddenly fell into place. Needle's near-phobia of sunlight, her persistently carnivorous
diet, her long limbs and fingers and unusual climbing ability - all appeared, in
retrospect, to indicate that she had some stronger ties to the Morlocks than being a
mere captive. Additional evidence could be found in my descriptions of her pale skin
and hair - that became more pale when the rain washed her disguising mud away.
The factor that swayed me most, however, was the perpetual bruising about the back of
her head, and her prominent spine. It became clear to me that she had never been bruised
there at all - her brain was simply too large for her cranium, though not nearly so
overly developed as that of the Morlock Lord.
I realized that Needle was not an escaped foreign Eloi, nor a simple Morlock; she was
a Morlock of their ruling caste.
Kalen seemed to reach the inevitable conclusion just as I did. Mara was upstairs at
the time, whilst we were downstairs, and so I was able to swear him to silence before
she was to know.
I'm afraid that I did not much consideration to my next course of action. Still
shocked by my revelation, I hastily scrawled my message of that day, intending to
depart at once in search of the girl. Knowing her identity, I strongly desired to
confront her, and learn of what she planned for the future. It is interesting, the
sudden wedge of suspicion suspicion that took root in me, the moment I knew of her
true nature. Though I had no evidence, I was sure that she intended to in some way
reinstate the relationship between the Eloi and Morlock as it had been before my arrival.
And so, I at once departed to the ruins of the Morlock caverns, where I was certain
(because of the small gifts that she'd given me) that she hid. I realize now that
those gifts were intended to secretly tell me of her hiding place, so that none but
I would find her.
I bade Kalen to tell Mara only that I had left to consult the Photonic on an urgent
matter. I hadn't even the consideration to think of a more plausible explanation for
my absence.
Perhaps setting out alone in one of the Eloi boats was not my most brilliant decision.
With the river running high, swift, and muddied, and what with my inexperience, I was
barely able to navigate. I brought the boat ashore much further downriver than I
anticipated, and as a result, I spent most of the day journeying through the dank
forest on foot, scavenging some of the immense wild berries to eat along my way. I
finally reached the Photonic's library, a landmark on my way, in the late afternoon.
I had been proceeding with caution, aware that the Eloi may have ranged near this place
by now, as the rain had slackened to a light drizzle. All the same, I paused to question
Vox. I asked him whether he had spoken with Needle in the past few days.
"She came by this way yesterday," he told me, appearing to be ill at ease. "I don't
think that she can understand it at this point, unless she's some latent genius, but
she asked me about time travel."
His words set a chill about me. "What did you tell her?" I asked.
At that, Vox smiled. "Apart from your... existence, my database has no record of time
travel actually having been accomplished. I told her to ask you."
He had no further information to give me, and so I left, hoping to reach the ruins by
nightfall. I was gripped by a quite rational fear for my safety upon reaching that
cursed place, but I continued on nonetheless. The way was difficult, for there was no
breathing of the Morlock machines to guide me.
Darkness fell, until I stumbled nearly blind through the trees, guessing dangerously
at my direction. As I neared the area, I became aware of pale movement in the woods
around me. I stopped, reaching for a branch at my feet, expecting to be attacked.
Instead, three Morlocks hesitantly stepped out of the undergrowth, preventing me from
turning back. With grunts and arm-waving, they indicated that I was to continue on.
The beasts were quite thin, and their eyes were dulled. I would have thought that
hunger would have driven them to attack, but instead, they seemed to be resigned to
their starvation. I thought of the way that the one that had come after Weena had
failed to defend itself, and I began to feel pity for the monstrous creatures.
They herded me forward until I reached, over uneven ground and fallen trees, the
destroyed structure that had once been the Sphinx. The area was cleared of debris,
leaving an open space before the platform with its remaining twisted shards of metal.
Needle was at the top of the structure, seated among the ruins as in a throne. Her
arms and head were bared to the misty moonlight, the extra gauze draped ghost-like
about the metal pieces behind her. She appeared to be tired - her eyes were half-closed
- but she wore a cold and haughty expression, and sat still as stone. A long and
disturbing line of blood trailed from one nostril, down over her lips, to at last
drip and stain her shirt.
Below her, on the cleared lawn, lay pieces of my time machine. Bits of crumpled metal,
brass rails bent like wire, hand-sized pieces of glass, one half-burnt wooden slat. In
the center of the display lay my crystal-headed control stick, still whole, but that
the crystal was now cracked.
The three Morlocks guiding me dispersed, filtering back into the forest. After a
silent minute, I became unsure that she was even aware of my presence, and I parted
my lips to greet her (for lack of a better reaction).
Before I spoke, she said softly, "Hello, Alexander." The sound of her voice barely
carried across the clearing.
I moved to the base of the Sphinx, carefully side-stepping the remains of my machine,
so that I could stand closer to her. "Good evening, Needle," I returned, cautiously
treating the situation as normal. "How have you been?"
"I grieve," she responded with honesty. The pleasantries of our era are a ritual
lost in this time.
"Is there... Is there anything I can do, Needle?" It felt dreadful to be so mundane
in my conversation, but I did not know how to approach the subject of my suspicions
without endangering my life.
She turned her cold eyes on me at last. "Can you undo the past?" She asked, her voice
as calm as ice.
I glanced down at the pieces of my time machine, and up at the mirroring fragments
of the moon. "Even when I had my machine, I could not," I told her sadly. "For better
or worse, the overall course of events were unchanged, despite my efforts." I thought
only of you, my dearest Emma, and I wondered if Needle knew just how dreadfully I had
wanted to change the past.
"I think you can."
I had been looking away, and at her words, I hastily glanced up to her again. Her
face was still placid, but she seemed to be quite sure of herself. I was stunned.
"Why... do you say that?"
She lightly pushed off from her perch, landing lightly before me. "We are both
driven by similar... emotions," she said, pacing a little. "I talk of acting on
these emotions. I learn quickly; I will help you rebuild your machine. Go into the
past to your Emma -"
I gave a start at hearing her utter your name. "What?"
"I read your letters when you were fevered," she quickly explained.
I paused in surprise, then shook my head and responded. "I attempted to... prevent
her death... before. I failed. Without her death I would not have used my time machine
as I did, even if I ever completed it." I extended my hands to her, trying to
communicate the sorrow I still feel - that I am still a captive of time, as are all;
and that the past will forever flow in its course.
Needle seemed to grow more excited as she listened to me, as though she knew something
that I did not. Her English faltered in her excitement. "No, no, listen to me. What if."
What if. The cursed phrase that the Lord of the Morlocks had pointed out to me caught
in my mind as the girl continued to speak.
"What if, what if she did not die there? What if she simply appeared to die, and you
took her away, brought her here, or anywhen?" Needle turned away from me, then back,
anxiously. "You could do the same for my father, then. Rescue him and return him to me."
I could only sigh. Wandering was not the life I had wanted for us, and so I had never
considered that possibility, when I'd had the chance. I missed you so dearly just then
that Needle's idea seemed quite sound... But I doubted that I would ever be able to
rebuild my machine here, in this new stone age. "Needle, I -"
She stopped, trembling. "It would work," she said, and I heard the desperation in her
voice. "It _must_ work. Don't deny us this. Please, don't -" Needle cut herself off,
seeing my stony expression.
Her assessment had been quite correct - we were indeed driven by the same emotions.
I traveled in time to try to save you, and now I looked upon a young woman who wanted
to do the same for her father. The fact that she was a Morlock was immaterial.
I shook my head. "I cannot rebuild the machine, Needle. I haven't the tools or materials
here." I advanced on her ghostly form, attempting to embrace her. "I understand how you
feel, but there is nothing that can be done -"
She stepped back, out of my reach - still trembling, but now with some colder emotion
than excitement. "Understand?" she said in a dangerously soft, even voice. "How can
you _understand?_
She suddenly stilled, her eyelids lowering again. As I watched, a fresh trickle of
blood seeped from her nose. "They want you," she murmured.
I realized that the brute Morlocks had crept back into the clearing - five of the
pitiful creatures. They crouched at the edges, surrounding us, making barely a sound.
Each pair of slanted eyes was fixed on me, and I'm sure that more than one of them was
salivating.
"They aren't listening," she sighed, appearing quite exhausted again. "Too hungry,
and they think that you are harming me. They do not realize-"
One of the beasts bounded forward with a roar. I saw it leap, saw Needle look toward
it, her eyes suddenly wide - and saw it land in a heap at my feet. The thing had simply
died in mid-air.
The other four moved forward a little, but none of them charged. They sat back on their
haunches, making a sad keening sound. One by one, they lay down, and their wailing and
motion ceased.
I turned back to Needle, only to find her similarly collapsed, her breathing quiet and
erratic. I knelt at her side and gathered her into my lap, turning her face-up, my hand
at the back of her neck.
"They did not realize that you are leader," she whispered between gasps. "My father
died at your hands, so you are leader..."
She lapsed into silence, slipping into sleep. I sat in the darkness and held her, and
I mourned, for both my loss and hers.
In the morning of the 10th, we awoke to further rain. I did the best I could to
provide those last few Morlocks with a burial by pushing them into the network of
chasms about that were once their caverns. Needle was too weak to help.
I had it in mind to return to the Eloi village, but it occurred to me that Needle
mightn't be welcome there. However, the thought of failing to follow me apparently
never crossed her mind, peril or no.
As we walked, I learned a little about her, through conversation. At first glance her
past might seem horrific... but I find that, though it was certainly difficult, her
acceptance of it prevents me from pitying her.
Her father was indeed the Lord of the Morlocks that I met; her mother was a captive
Eloi. She was somewhat of an experiment - an attempt to produce a Morlock who could
survive above ground during the day. Though the breeding promised weakened mental
powers, the yearning for sunlight was, in this one case, greater than reason.
When Needle was seven years old, her mother died for want of freedom and sun (her words),
and she and her father consumed her flesh. The young woman spoke of this as though it
were the most normal thing in the world - "the day and the night", as the Eloi put it.
Apparently the Morlocks always consumed their dead, as part of their funerary ritual.
According to Needle, her father did indeed love her, and kept her as near as he dared.
Presumably his touch to the back of her neck was simply in pleasure that she did not bear
the deformity that bound him. Once, and only once, did she rebel against him - and that
is how she acquired the scars at her neck.
Because she was half Eloi, however, Needle was considered unfit to train as one of the
ruling caste. In spite of this, her father still attempted to train her, but her mind
was simply too weak - her greater efforts produced the hemorrhaging that I had seen
earlier. So, instead, she was trained in a lower caste's task of supporting the Eloi.
This was how she learned her fabric-craft, which indeed the Eloi do not have for
themselves. (She stated her intention to teach them, with my blessing.)
In her own realm, she was never named, because of her diluted lineage. She took her
name among the Eloi from her craft, as was the custom among her own people.
Needle also revealed to me that she had witnessed Jord's death. She had been unable
to control the Morlock that had attacked, but once it killed, it recognized her and
attempted to share the kill, as it were. She killed it easily - simply because it
had nearly attacked her, and might be a threat to me. (To her mind, I was her father's
clear successor, because he had died at my hands. So certain was she that I hadn't the
heart to correct her.) Such errors are not to be tolerated, she told me. She was able
to control the other Morlocks later because of their hunger-weakened state. (Apparently
after my adventure, so few of them remained that they feared to hunt the more numerous
Eloi.)
The last information that she passed to me was that it had been no mistake that she
had escaped. Because of his attunement to both the Morlocks and the Eloi, her father
had suspected trouble, and had commanded her to stay near the surface.
At that point we reached the library again. We paused only to eat a little fruit and
speak with Vox a little concerning what had happened.
I am pleased that Needle is becoming more omnivorous than carnivorous. It indicates
to me that perhaps, rather than battling the other Morlock enclaves with disastrous
results such as this, we may be able to bring about a more peaceful change for both
species.
We met the Eloi at the windmill-monuments. The sun had been shining for a few hours,
and though she still shielded her eyes, Needle walked bare-headed. Apparently much of
her wrapping, after her initial burns, had merely been to disguise her appearance.
I was not sure how to explain Needle to them, now that she revealed herself to them.
At our approach, most of the children that we met at the outskirts ran toward the larger
group of Eloi. Only the guarding young men and the little girl Weena remained to walk
toward the others with us.
"Well?" Mara asked when we came near. The other Eloi surrounded us.
It was not the greeting that I had expected. "Well...?" I asked in return, confused.
"She _is_ a Morlock," one of the others around us said.
"Pale as things under a rock," another said. I realized that they were speaking
in English for my benefit.
"I... told," Kalen muttered to me, worming his way through the crowd to stand with
me. "I'm sorry." He stayed to my side, away from Needle, who hung back. Even he was
afraid, a little.
I cleared my throat. "Needle is not a Morlock," I began. I had no idea how to finish
the thought, as she certainly wasn't an Eloi, either.
"Then what is she?" One of the young males said, suspicious. I noticed that all of
the young males now carried pointed sticks of bamboo.
It was Mara who stepped to my aid. "She is a Newyorker," she said, turning so that
all could hear her. "She and Alexander are just like."
And that answer satisfied the Eloi, and Needle was suddenly as accepted as I. The
group dispersed to their tasks again.
Needle alone appeared to be a little confused, having apparently expected to fight
for her life, given what the Eloi had done to the last Morlock they'd seen. As she
stood, looking about, little Weena suddenly appeared next to her, and took her pale
hand.
"Don't worry," Weena said, smiling up at Needle. "I know how Mythology works. I'll
fix it. In a hundred years, you'll be the daughter of a god."
And then she ran away laughing to play with Kalen, and the rest of the day
passed as though nothing had happened.
I was rather tired last night - too tired to begin this chronicle - and so I have
spent the day today writing this. I must try, however, to keep a closer eye on these
letters in the future, so that the things that I record here do not disturb Kalen or Mara.
[Later]
Mara told me, over dinner this evening, that the choker that she made for me - and
that I accepted and wear - is a wedding band. It took her a little while to learn the
correct term from Vox.
I'm quite shocked. I honestly don't know how I am to take care of this situation... I
will think on it tonight.
With all my Love,
Alexander
___________________________________________
Author's Note: Not Done Yet! Epilogue to follow
(Excerpts from the journal of Alexander Hartdegen)
Part IV: Speaker for the Dead
October 10th, 802,701
Darling Emma,
Please forgive my outburst of a few days ago. At the time it seemed vastly
important that I make some record of my discovery, but I wished so fervently
to act upon it, and it startled me so, that I was not able to write at any length.
I shall attempt to record the recent events as well as I can; I must begin this
tale shortly before I last wrote you.
On the morning of the eighth, I sat with Kalen in our dwelling, taking shelter from
the especially heavy rain outside. (Finally, a storm violent enough to convince the
Eloi to stay inside.) Mara was setting some herbs to dry (as best she could, given
the damp weather). Needle still remained missing; none had seen her since the Morlock
attack.
At Kalen's request, we were looking over these letters, that he might better gain a
better grasp of spelling and grammar. As I re-read these records, a number of factors
suddenly fell into place. Needle's near-phobia of sunlight, her persistently carnivorous
diet, her long limbs and fingers and unusual climbing ability - all appeared, in
retrospect, to indicate that she had some stronger ties to the Morlocks than being a
mere captive. Additional evidence could be found in my descriptions of her pale skin
and hair - that became more pale when the rain washed her disguising mud away.
The factor that swayed me most, however, was the perpetual bruising about the back of
her head, and her prominent spine. It became clear to me that she had never been bruised
there at all - her brain was simply too large for her cranium, though not nearly so
overly developed as that of the Morlock Lord.
I realized that Needle was not an escaped foreign Eloi, nor a simple Morlock; she was
a Morlock of their ruling caste.
Kalen seemed to reach the inevitable conclusion just as I did. Mara was upstairs at
the time, whilst we were downstairs, and so I was able to swear him to silence before
she was to know.
I'm afraid that I did not much consideration to my next course of action. Still
shocked by my revelation, I hastily scrawled my message of that day, intending to
depart at once in search of the girl. Knowing her identity, I strongly desired to
confront her, and learn of what she planned for the future. It is interesting, the
sudden wedge of suspicion suspicion that took root in me, the moment I knew of her
true nature. Though I had no evidence, I was sure that she intended to in some way
reinstate the relationship between the Eloi and Morlock as it had been before my arrival.
And so, I at once departed to the ruins of the Morlock caverns, where I was certain
(because of the small gifts that she'd given me) that she hid. I realize now that
those gifts were intended to secretly tell me of her hiding place, so that none but
I would find her.
I bade Kalen to tell Mara only that I had left to consult the Photonic on an urgent
matter. I hadn't even the consideration to think of a more plausible explanation for
my absence.
Perhaps setting out alone in one of the Eloi boats was not my most brilliant decision.
With the river running high, swift, and muddied, and what with my inexperience, I was
barely able to navigate. I brought the boat ashore much further downriver than I
anticipated, and as a result, I spent most of the day journeying through the dank
forest on foot, scavenging some of the immense wild berries to eat along my way. I
finally reached the Photonic's library, a landmark on my way, in the late afternoon.
I had been proceeding with caution, aware that the Eloi may have ranged near this place
by now, as the rain had slackened to a light drizzle. All the same, I paused to question
Vox. I asked him whether he had spoken with Needle in the past few days.
"She came by this way yesterday," he told me, appearing to be ill at ease. "I don't
think that she can understand it at this point, unless she's some latent genius, but
she asked me about time travel."
His words set a chill about me. "What did you tell her?" I asked.
At that, Vox smiled. "Apart from your... existence, my database has no record of time
travel actually having been accomplished. I told her to ask you."
He had no further information to give me, and so I left, hoping to reach the ruins by
nightfall. I was gripped by a quite rational fear for my safety upon reaching that
cursed place, but I continued on nonetheless. The way was difficult, for there was no
breathing of the Morlock machines to guide me.
Darkness fell, until I stumbled nearly blind through the trees, guessing dangerously
at my direction. As I neared the area, I became aware of pale movement in the woods
around me. I stopped, reaching for a branch at my feet, expecting to be attacked.
Instead, three Morlocks hesitantly stepped out of the undergrowth, preventing me from
turning back. With grunts and arm-waving, they indicated that I was to continue on.
The beasts were quite thin, and their eyes were dulled. I would have thought that
hunger would have driven them to attack, but instead, they seemed to be resigned to
their starvation. I thought of the way that the one that had come after Weena had
failed to defend itself, and I began to feel pity for the monstrous creatures.
They herded me forward until I reached, over uneven ground and fallen trees, the
destroyed structure that had once been the Sphinx. The area was cleared of debris,
leaving an open space before the platform with its remaining twisted shards of metal.
Needle was at the top of the structure, seated among the ruins as in a throne. Her
arms and head were bared to the misty moonlight, the extra gauze draped ghost-like
about the metal pieces behind her. She appeared to be tired - her eyes were half-closed
- but she wore a cold and haughty expression, and sat still as stone. A long and
disturbing line of blood trailed from one nostril, down over her lips, to at last
drip and stain her shirt.
Below her, on the cleared lawn, lay pieces of my time machine. Bits of crumpled metal,
brass rails bent like wire, hand-sized pieces of glass, one half-burnt wooden slat. In
the center of the display lay my crystal-headed control stick, still whole, but that
the crystal was now cracked.
The three Morlocks guiding me dispersed, filtering back into the forest. After a
silent minute, I became unsure that she was even aware of my presence, and I parted
my lips to greet her (for lack of a better reaction).
Before I spoke, she said softly, "Hello, Alexander." The sound of her voice barely
carried across the clearing.
I moved to the base of the Sphinx, carefully side-stepping the remains of my machine,
so that I could stand closer to her. "Good evening, Needle," I returned, cautiously
treating the situation as normal. "How have you been?"
"I grieve," she responded with honesty. The pleasantries of our era are a ritual
lost in this time.
"Is there... Is there anything I can do, Needle?" It felt dreadful to be so mundane
in my conversation, but I did not know how to approach the subject of my suspicions
without endangering my life.
She turned her cold eyes on me at last. "Can you undo the past?" She asked, her voice
as calm as ice.
I glanced down at the pieces of my time machine, and up at the mirroring fragments
of the moon. "Even when I had my machine, I could not," I told her sadly. "For better
or worse, the overall course of events were unchanged, despite my efforts." I thought
only of you, my dearest Emma, and I wondered if Needle knew just how dreadfully I had
wanted to change the past.
"I think you can."
I had been looking away, and at her words, I hastily glanced up to her again. Her
face was still placid, but she seemed to be quite sure of herself. I was stunned.
"Why... do you say that?"
She lightly pushed off from her perch, landing lightly before me. "We are both
driven by similar... emotions," she said, pacing a little. "I talk of acting on
these emotions. I learn quickly; I will help you rebuild your machine. Go into the
past to your Emma -"
I gave a start at hearing her utter your name. "What?"
"I read your letters when you were fevered," she quickly explained.
I paused in surprise, then shook my head and responded. "I attempted to... prevent
her death... before. I failed. Without her death I would not have used my time machine
as I did, even if I ever completed it." I extended my hands to her, trying to
communicate the sorrow I still feel - that I am still a captive of time, as are all;
and that the past will forever flow in its course.
Needle seemed to grow more excited as she listened to me, as though she knew something
that I did not. Her English faltered in her excitement. "No, no, listen to me. What if."
What if. The cursed phrase that the Lord of the Morlocks had pointed out to me caught
in my mind as the girl continued to speak.
"What if, what if she did not die there? What if she simply appeared to die, and you
took her away, brought her here, or anywhen?" Needle turned away from me, then back,
anxiously. "You could do the same for my father, then. Rescue him and return him to me."
I could only sigh. Wandering was not the life I had wanted for us, and so I had never
considered that possibility, when I'd had the chance. I missed you so dearly just then
that Needle's idea seemed quite sound... But I doubted that I would ever be able to
rebuild my machine here, in this new stone age. "Needle, I -"
She stopped, trembling. "It would work," she said, and I heard the desperation in her
voice. "It _must_ work. Don't deny us this. Please, don't -" Needle cut herself off,
seeing my stony expression.
Her assessment had been quite correct - we were indeed driven by the same emotions.
I traveled in time to try to save you, and now I looked upon a young woman who wanted
to do the same for her father. The fact that she was a Morlock was immaterial.
I shook my head. "I cannot rebuild the machine, Needle. I haven't the tools or materials
here." I advanced on her ghostly form, attempting to embrace her. "I understand how you
feel, but there is nothing that can be done -"
She stepped back, out of my reach - still trembling, but now with some colder emotion
than excitement. "Understand?" she said in a dangerously soft, even voice. "How can
you _understand?_
She suddenly stilled, her eyelids lowering again. As I watched, a fresh trickle of
blood seeped from her nose. "They want you," she murmured.
I realized that the brute Morlocks had crept back into the clearing - five of the
pitiful creatures. They crouched at the edges, surrounding us, making barely a sound.
Each pair of slanted eyes was fixed on me, and I'm sure that more than one of them was
salivating.
"They aren't listening," she sighed, appearing quite exhausted again. "Too hungry,
and they think that you are harming me. They do not realize-"
One of the beasts bounded forward with a roar. I saw it leap, saw Needle look toward
it, her eyes suddenly wide - and saw it land in a heap at my feet. The thing had simply
died in mid-air.
The other four moved forward a little, but none of them charged. They sat back on their
haunches, making a sad keening sound. One by one, they lay down, and their wailing and
motion ceased.
I turned back to Needle, only to find her similarly collapsed, her breathing quiet and
erratic. I knelt at her side and gathered her into my lap, turning her face-up, my hand
at the back of her neck.
"They did not realize that you are leader," she whispered between gasps. "My father
died at your hands, so you are leader..."
She lapsed into silence, slipping into sleep. I sat in the darkness and held her, and
I mourned, for both my loss and hers.
In the morning of the 10th, we awoke to further rain. I did the best I could to
provide those last few Morlocks with a burial by pushing them into the network of
chasms about that were once their caverns. Needle was too weak to help.
I had it in mind to return to the Eloi village, but it occurred to me that Needle
mightn't be welcome there. However, the thought of failing to follow me apparently
never crossed her mind, peril or no.
As we walked, I learned a little about her, through conversation. At first glance her
past might seem horrific... but I find that, though it was certainly difficult, her
acceptance of it prevents me from pitying her.
Her father was indeed the Lord of the Morlocks that I met; her mother was a captive
Eloi. She was somewhat of an experiment - an attempt to produce a Morlock who could
survive above ground during the day. Though the breeding promised weakened mental
powers, the yearning for sunlight was, in this one case, greater than reason.
When Needle was seven years old, her mother died for want of freedom and sun (her words),
and she and her father consumed her flesh. The young woman spoke of this as though it
were the most normal thing in the world - "the day and the night", as the Eloi put it.
Apparently the Morlocks always consumed their dead, as part of their funerary ritual.
According to Needle, her father did indeed love her, and kept her as near as he dared.
Presumably his touch to the back of her neck was simply in pleasure that she did not bear
the deformity that bound him. Once, and only once, did she rebel against him - and that
is how she acquired the scars at her neck.
Because she was half Eloi, however, Needle was considered unfit to train as one of the
ruling caste. In spite of this, her father still attempted to train her, but her mind
was simply too weak - her greater efforts produced the hemorrhaging that I had seen
earlier. So, instead, she was trained in a lower caste's task of supporting the Eloi.
This was how she learned her fabric-craft, which indeed the Eloi do not have for
themselves. (She stated her intention to teach them, with my blessing.)
In her own realm, she was never named, because of her diluted lineage. She took her
name among the Eloi from her craft, as was the custom among her own people.
Needle also revealed to me that she had witnessed Jord's death. She had been unable
to control the Morlock that had attacked, but once it killed, it recognized her and
attempted to share the kill, as it were. She killed it easily - simply because it
had nearly attacked her, and might be a threat to me. (To her mind, I was her father's
clear successor, because he had died at my hands. So certain was she that I hadn't the
heart to correct her.) Such errors are not to be tolerated, she told me. She was able
to control the other Morlocks later because of their hunger-weakened state. (Apparently
after my adventure, so few of them remained that they feared to hunt the more numerous
Eloi.)
The last information that she passed to me was that it had been no mistake that she
had escaped. Because of his attunement to both the Morlocks and the Eloi, her father
had suspected trouble, and had commanded her to stay near the surface.
At that point we reached the library again. We paused only to eat a little fruit and
speak with Vox a little concerning what had happened.
I am pleased that Needle is becoming more omnivorous than carnivorous. It indicates
to me that perhaps, rather than battling the other Morlock enclaves with disastrous
results such as this, we may be able to bring about a more peaceful change for both
species.
We met the Eloi at the windmill-monuments. The sun had been shining for a few hours,
and though she still shielded her eyes, Needle walked bare-headed. Apparently much of
her wrapping, after her initial burns, had merely been to disguise her appearance.
I was not sure how to explain Needle to them, now that she revealed herself to them.
At our approach, most of the children that we met at the outskirts ran toward the larger
group of Eloi. Only the guarding young men and the little girl Weena remained to walk
toward the others with us.
"Well?" Mara asked when we came near. The other Eloi surrounded us.
It was not the greeting that I had expected. "Well...?" I asked in return, confused.
"She _is_ a Morlock," one of the others around us said.
"Pale as things under a rock," another said. I realized that they were speaking
in English for my benefit.
"I... told," Kalen muttered to me, worming his way through the crowd to stand with
me. "I'm sorry." He stayed to my side, away from Needle, who hung back. Even he was
afraid, a little.
I cleared my throat. "Needle is not a Morlock," I began. I had no idea how to finish
the thought, as she certainly wasn't an Eloi, either.
"Then what is she?" One of the young males said, suspicious. I noticed that all of
the young males now carried pointed sticks of bamboo.
It was Mara who stepped to my aid. "She is a Newyorker," she said, turning so that
all could hear her. "She and Alexander are just like."
And that answer satisfied the Eloi, and Needle was suddenly as accepted as I. The
group dispersed to their tasks again.
Needle alone appeared to be a little confused, having apparently expected to fight
for her life, given what the Eloi had done to the last Morlock they'd seen. As she
stood, looking about, little Weena suddenly appeared next to her, and took her pale
hand.
"Don't worry," Weena said, smiling up at Needle. "I know how Mythology works. I'll
fix it. In a hundred years, you'll be the daughter of a god."
And then she ran away laughing to play with Kalen, and the rest of the day
passed as though nothing had happened.
I was rather tired last night - too tired to begin this chronicle - and so I have
spent the day today writing this. I must try, however, to keep a closer eye on these
letters in the future, so that the things that I record here do not disturb Kalen or Mara.
[Later]
Mara told me, over dinner this evening, that the choker that she made for me - and
that I accepted and wear - is a wedding band. It took her a little while to learn the
correct term from Vox.
I'm quite shocked. I honestly don't know how I am to take care of this situation... I
will think on it tonight.
With all my Love,
Alexander
___________________________________________
Author's Note: Not Done Yet! Epilogue to follow