BAD GRACE - quantum witch © 2005

see Prologue for warnings, rating, and summary

In which Pollution returns, and makes friends with the second Deadly Sin.

2:03 - LAYING WASTE

ENGINEERS TYPICALLY PUT IN RIDICULOUS HOURS, about 50-60 hours per week, working on their projects. Usually this is accomplished with 50 hours at the office and another 10 working on home computers. But most of them have families that, for some reason, demanded their attention as well. All in all, they average 108 hours not working on whatever it is they're being paid to do. That time is often used for recreational activities, such as boating, golfing, playing with one's children, intimate relations with one's significant other, and is even used for eating, sleeping, and bathing.

Virtually all of these things were considered wastes of time by Amelia Titian. She had no family, no hobbies, no desire for recreations. She worked almost inhumanely long hours designing software and various gadgets for a Swiss company. She averaged 120 hours on the job every week. She'd been doing it for nearly two years now. She did this of her own free will and at her own request.

Her co-workers were, in one capacity, grateful to her. This freed them up for even more time away from the especially tedious parts of the job. They were all already making more than enough money not to miss five or ten hours extra hours.

In another capacity, they thought of Amelia as a freak and an utter fanatic and were just as happy to be away from her as from the job. That, and she often forgot to bathe for a few days at a time until someone would leave a gentle but pointed note (anonymously) in her vicinity, knowing that she would eventually look up from her computer and see it and wander away to the toilet long enough to at least sponge down. She had the privilege now of her own bathroom just for this purpose.

Some of the kinder-hearted co-workers brought her lunch, also left for her to eventually discover. And someone had stashed a blanket and pillow beneath her desk, after having found her asleep there a number of times. She didn't sleep much, but when she did she scarcely had the ability to leave and go to her flat. There was some debate as to whether such a place existed, though the personnel department had an address, in a very seedy area, on file. Amelia was known to occasionally leave the building and return with a small duffle bag of extra clothes, so it was assumed she went somewhere that resembled a home wherein these things were kept. Although considering the state of them, she might just as well have taken them out of a dumpster, where it had likely been thrown by a homeless maniac. Even though there was a general dress code, her employers ignored it for her sake. She was never near the public eye, so it wasn't an issue.

The company tolerated her eccentricities because she was a bloody genius who'd made them more money than their fevered brains could conceive of. She was the top designer in their company, and rapidly becoming the top in Europe. She held numerous patents, and could have retired at age twenty-five but likely would have gone even more mad from lack of work. Her brain seemed to work in another dimension entirely, one that operated at speeds unheard of by mortal man.

Today, the last day of her normal life, Amelia had been slaving away for 15 hours and now her neck and back were stiff. She actually began to notice these things and her deeply buried and sadly ignored survival instinct bit her sharply. Coming back to something like the waking world, she blinked stupidly for a moment, took a deep refreshing breath to clear the staleness out of her lungs, and regarded her surroundings. Himalayan monks, had they even heard of her, would have been jealous of her ability to move so easily in and out of various states of consciousness.

She realized she was somewhat hungry and definitely thirsty. There were the always mysteriously present bottles of water and cooler of sandwiches present, and she made swift work of it all. Now that she was somewhat revitalised, or had at least staved off death for another day, she leaned back in her chair and considered what to do. Probably a quick rinse off, change her clothes, take a nap, then maybe a stroll outside to stretch her stiff joints. It had been a few days, and the blood was beginning to congeal. Searching under her desk for her change of clothes, she found the duffle empty. She'd forgotten again to go home and replenish her supply. Sighing, she stood, wobbled, then shambled out of her office. She not only ignored the sign some wag had taped to her door – declaring her as the Rain Woman – she actually failed to see it. She probably wouldn't have known what it meant anyway. Amelia hadn't watched television or seen a movie in twelve years.

She was pretty sure she remembered what direction her flat was in, and headed that direction. It was half a mile away, but she didn't really notice. A bit like a machine herself, as long as she was turned on, had enough power and the gears were functional, she just kept going. And eventually she reached the neighbourhood she nominally lived in.

It was not a good area. It was, in fact, an area that had decided good was a bloody nancy and had beaten up the very idea and taken its lunch money.

But no one would have bothered with her, the way she looked. Poor and shabby was an exceedingly polite description, though only one applied. Her jeans were so frayed they were held together by a single long thread and a few judiciously applied staples. Her hair, short and always tousled (not even artfully) was dyed a brilliant orange that looked like toxic Kool-Aid which quite possibly had been used in the colouring process.° She wore scuffed old boots seemed to have been worn by many generations of soldiers who'd spent a great deal of time storming through the sewers. Accounts of her t-shirt were best left to the imagination, though it would have to be quite a sordid imagination. It had probably once been a shade of orange to match her hair, but had given that up for lost long ago. Her eyeglasses were covered with fingerprints and bits of electrical tape because taking them in for proper repairs was a waste of time that could be better spent at work.

Amelia came to a spot where a decision had to be made. Either go the long way around a curving block of flats, or wend her way through an alley between buildings as a shortcut. It was a terrible place, that alley, and if she'd been the least concerned about it she'd have kept her possessions, such as they were, in a better area. On hot days, it reeked enough to melt paint. Garbage overflowed the bins and dumpsters. Rats the size of quite large Chihuahuas called it home. There were a few sewer drains here, and it was fairly obvious that they didn't really transport waste so much as gather it into the alley for some nefarious purpose.

It was horrible. But, if you held your breath it was several minutes quicker than taking the far longer and healthier way around the buildings.

She didn't like wasting time on trivial things. She'd already wasted enough time on the walk home anyway. Work and production were what she craved. She made hay while the sun shone, and for her it shone like she was mentally living in the arctic circle. In other words, a lot.

Taking a deep breath of already fetid air, she began the trek through the alley. And saw something that couldn't help but stand out in this particular scenery. Pure whiteness.

Yet this struck her as not being suspiciously, eerily out-of-place. Any normal person (which was a relative term, anyway, for someone braving the alley) would have backed away and chosen a different route. But this vision compelled her, pulled her forward. As she got closer, she saw it was a young man with pale flowing hair, dressed all in white. He was standing near a sewer grate, which burbled appallingly, and yet his shoes hadn't a speck of filth on them.

And she heard him speaking, softly and fluidly as though reciting a love sonnet. "So lovely... so lovely... oh, how I'd missed this decadent beauty... so blessed am I, to have returned to this world… this vision of glory..."

Her own voice somewhat croaky due to having mostly forgotten how to be used, she said, "Are you… lost?"

He raised his eyes to her, and she saw that his skin was also very pale and his eyes a misty grey. It was as though his entire being was bleached. And he was more than handsome, he was beautiful.

"No," he said quietly, smiling at her, "I am never lost so long as the world continues to rot. And we are all rotting together, aren't we? In one lovely cesspit, in an eternal brotherhood of corruption."

It was bizarre and oddly poetic. And said with such clarity, such focus. He saw the mess of the world and didn't believe it to be hideous... nor did he think it was redeemable. No, he saw it as part of the cycle of life and death.

Fascinated, Amelia came closer still. The boy's face was peaceful, almost angelic as he regarded her. When they were only a foot apart, he lifted a long-fingered artistic hand to touch her cheek. As she stood there breathing foul fumes that would probably kill her if she lingered, she shivered, aware of something deep and profound happening inside her soul.

His other hand came up and he removed her glasses. Beneath them, unlike in proper B-movie clichéd fashion, she really was quite plain. Her eyes were near-sighted and a sort of light reddish-brown.

In his gentle voice, he said, "Tell me... what does this world hold for such as you? What is it... that you see?"

Without hesitation she whispered, "I see decay and entropy. Humans who don't care what happens to anything or anyone, including themselves. They sit all day, wasting time watching television, playing video games, eating, drinking their lives away. All of their natural energy could be funneled, focused, used on better things. Making a difference in this world, creating, helping, healing. Sweating and working, saving their planet and themselves. But the majority waste their lives. They cannot be bothered to do anything the hard way anymore. If they could find some way to flip a switch and turn their entire lives off and on at will, they would do it without a qualm. In fact, they'd probably prefer a remote control. Even better, a thought-controlled device, so they don't even have to lift their lazy fingers. The world is apathy and atrophy. It's falling to pieces. And it's their fault. They created the mess... they have the power to clean it up. But they don't. They won't. They are lazy and selfish and don't really care. They all deserve to wallow in their own messes and suffer, crying in rage at the destruction of their world because they couldn't be bothered to stop it..."

And Something Else that had been long coiled inside her soul exploded gently.

Amelia shuddered, closed her eyes and clung to the young stranger's arms. He waited, patiently, kindly, until she opened her eyes again. She could see him for exactly what he was now...

…the sewage and trash overflowing bins rotting in the sun flea-ridden rats gnawing at the bones of discarded food heaps and piles and mountains of everything humanity no longer cared for...

covering the entire world in its own waste
killing it with disease and suffering
cleansing it of the wretchedness of humankind

He was everything foul and putrid.

And yet he was still, inexpressibly, beautiful.

"Welcome... my dear Sin, my friend," he whispered with a smile that spoke of affection and kinship, "together we shall aid in the downward spiral... we shall push the wheeled handbasket of humanity all the way to Hell's front door."

"Yes," she breathed in ecstasy. "Bring them to me, and I shall give them everything their slothful hearts crave. I shall make toys for them to play with, to waste themselves with, to rule their lives. Whatever they desire, they shall have... including the End."

His gentle fingers entwined with hers and he led her from the alley. They felt as slick as oil and slime... but it was so wonderfully companionable that she couldn't be troubled to pull away.

° Sadly, she hadn't even done this to herself. An employee of her company had, upon being told his projects were being given to Amelia, had waited until she was unconsious beneath her desk, and done the job himself. And no, she never even noticed.