CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Recollection
PART FOUR…Immortal Limitations…"Baby bear, are you serious?" Vash asked softly, face tucked into a pillow where he lay.
She nodded, but he wasn't looking up. "You were right. That Agent Peace crap didn't last. They think he's been killed. All the wackos are out, now. Like you said, they used him as a crutch…"
"Killed?" he murmured, rising from the couch slowly.
Again, she nodded. "People have been attacking government and commercial centers around the globe, proving it's true. The military wasn't anticipating this; there aren't enough personnel to protect all targets. The airport…well…"
Vash seemed deep in thought. Pulling on a sweater, he scanned the floor for his boots.
Kneeling on the floor, Tessla stared her father in the face. "Daddy, are you nuts? What the heck are you gonna do? You can't stop terrorists-"
"I don't care if it does any good or not, I'm not going to sit here while people get killed. Where are those damn boots?"
"Up your ass, where your head is," she mumbled.
Ignoring her, he crouched down on the floor to find his shoes and hastily prepared to leave. Stepping to the door, he smiled to her. "Back later!"
"Call me sometime, so I know where to send the ambulance!" she joked sarcastically, just before the door shuttered closed. Tessla knew that her father's compassion was beyond logic, and beyond dissuasion. She just wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again.
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On a hunch, Vash headed straight for the European Embassy. Before he could make it, however, he heard a great boom in the distance to his right. He hoofed it in the direction of the blast, mind blank, eyes tearing up from the air movement and emotion.
Finally he found himself - heart pounding, yet calm - staring up into thick smoke, surrounding a nice hotel. Within this hotel, several leaders of Parliament had been holding a secret emergency meeting. But the secret had slipped to several people, one of which had ties to the Labor Liberation Movement. A more extreme member of this group took advantage of the situation, and rigged up a simple explosive in ten minutes flat. The package was delivered in a catering box, and exploded as it was opened nearby the meeting table, killing all present. But there were many others in this hotel.
Vash, unaware of the cause and unwilling to wait for the distant sirens to arrive, pulled his jacket up to cover his head and dashed into the grand front door. He heard the faint voices coughing and calling for help, and no one else was there to respond.
He yelled and ran about, searching for victims. He found a few women and a man passed out behind the reception desk, mercifully alive thanks to the thick desk around them. Pulling them two at a time out of the building, he laid them on the cool sidewalk outside, checked for breathing, and rushed back to check the second floor. He managed to save three more people, two of them badly burned, from hotel rooms before he heard an ominous groan. Struggling to carry them all out at once (the burnt couple were rather large, so this was quite a task), Vash stepped outside and shuffled uncertainly. A second later, the floors were toppling down. Panting and crying, he heard footsteps of Fire Response personnel approach. He slowly broke into another run, towards another tower of smoke, this one possibly 6 kilometers away.
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He had long ago tired of pondering her reasons. It seemed no longer important why she had gone, only that she was gone. And her choice was maddeningly tempting.
Knives loved the plants, but it was a forced love. Like a human loves a god, it was built from respect, awe, and perhaps a little fear. Duty, pride, and this 'love' kept him in line. They needed his feeble help; his touch to their keypads. With such tapping he allowed them comfort and safety. Perhaps they actually appreciated it – he couldn't be sure. After all, the gift of Callisto's birth was perhaps more of a curse or an experiment than a gift. If she was his reward for years of hard work and distress, then an ironic reward she was, indeed.
And so, with his strife and thoughts he brought them entertainment. With flickers of light and warmth they toyed with him, or so it seemed. They could force him to speak of whatever they liked. Though capable of telepathy with him, they preferred to hear him speak, and to respond in such primitive and simple ways as light and heat. Why they chose such primitive means, he had no clue. Perhaps it amused them because it caused him confusion and discomfort.
Or maybe they did so because telepathy was too much. Knives' thoughts were often unpleasant to them, or so it seemed. And to know every thought that the plants possessed – if it were possible, would he want to hear it all? Would it drive him insane (for surely, it would take very little at that point to do so)? And - perhaps most important of all - would they want him to know what they were thinking? That would take so much fun out of this little game, for them, he surmised.
Like an actor on a stage in a vast, metal theater – or better yet, like a puppet on broken and breaking strings – he recited from memory human poetry, philosophy, and other such drivel. He was able to express his own emotions, but only when played through an interpretation – a melancholy prose when he longed for someone, or (as at the moment) a bitter, angry exposition when he was frustrated.
Pacing as he spoke, Knives' face was red and hot, words spitting from his mouth like fire. His heart raced as his words' intensity grew. Oh, he felt alive!
Coming upon a particularly poignant line, Knives jogged to the platform of a specific bulb and pointed his finger at the curled up mass at its core. "For you have ruined me, you have stoned me, and you will feel the guilt of my demise," he recited in a low, solemn tone. Blood rushed so fiercely that he was close to fainting. Pausing, he panted to regain his breath. The plant angels paused, aglow and warm, pleasantly waiting for him to continue.
Callisto's bulb didn't even change its output. Whether oblivious of the meaning of his recitation towards her or not – as always, she was enjoying herself along with the other plant angels.