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Message-ID: <40554asstr$1043269804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [003/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Wed, 22 Jan 2003 16:10:04 -0500
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There is story below the rather long preface. Page down if you must,
but don't blame me if you end up offended. The preface was written
for a reason. Ignore it at your own risk.

====================================================================
Author's Preface:
====================================================================

Four years ago, I wrote a novel that some of you may have read,
entitled "Time Out Of Time". In the following four years, some have
been disturbed by the work, and some have been enthusiastic. Some
have even requested a sequel.

"Dawn of Time" is not a sequel, in a strict sense, nor was it
intended to be. In some ways, I think "Dawn of Time" is a more
mature piece that investigates different themes, and provides a new
perspective on fantasy and reality, and things that might or might
not be. I hope that I have learned a little by some of my failures
in "Time Out of Time". But you'll have to judge the effectiveness
of that yourselves.

Please be warned: "Dawn of Time" is unlike my other works. It is
harsher and grittier, necessarily differing from my short stories.
As writers, sometimes it is necessary to explore ourselves in unique
ways. If this kind of writing is not your cup of tea, please pass
this story by. Despite its novel length, and the sweat that went
into its creation, I will not be disappointed if you decline to read
it. It is not my wish to offend anyone. To make one think, perhaps,
and to make one consider the implications of strange situations,
yes, but offend -- no.

This story does contain scenes with sexually charged content. It
contains situations that are questionable in terms of consensual
behaviour and eroticism that are probably only suitable for adults,
and then only to a subset of those that happen to understand
responsibility. Please don't assume that a scene described in a work
of fiction is safe in reality. Play safe. Please. (Do I really need
to hold your hand and tell you this?)

Like my short stories, "Dawn of Time" is not overly explicit. There
is more to Eros than pumping hydraulics and instant gratification,
and this novel encompasses this. For a piece of writing of 157
chapters, there is remarkably little explicit sex. If you are
looking for a quick stroke piece, you should probably wander
elsewhere.

Unlike many serial stories posted here, "Dawn of Time" is complete.
It took me the better part of a year to write and self-edit it -- an
exhausting but fulfilling endeavour. While I choose for sanity
reasons to release it slowly, be assured that all 157 chapters are
complete and will be posted. Please also note that this was not
proofed by outside counsel due to its length. I wouldn't push such a
task on anyone voluntarily. However, as readers: caveat emptor. I've
probably missed many silly language mistakes.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or
dead, is purely a coincidence. Well, for the most part anyway.
Those that lived through the story are very unlikely to admit it.
The universe does not accept paradox.

This is an original work, copyrighted by the author, Crimson Dragon.
Please do not use it as if it were your own. Enjoy the writing, but
do not archive or sell it in any manner without my written
permission. I'm easy to contact if you wish to redistribute my
words.

Lastly, I thoroughly enjoy hearing from people reading any of my
stories. Feel free to contact me with raves, rants, encouragement or
dissertation (note the lack of invitation for spam). I do try to
reply to all who are kind enough to drop me a note.

Now, if you are still with me, onto the story,
 - Crimson
   (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www

====================================================================

Dawn of Time - Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

Chapter 3

====================================================================

(C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved

Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

====================================================================

He didn't know what time it was. Way too late, or way too early.
Depends on how one looked at it, he supposed. The night beyond the
window remained dark and impassable. Sleep had refused to come.

Giving up, he slid his legs from the bed, gathered a bathrobe and
padded towards the kitchen without flicking on any lights. The
darkness embraced him, comforted him. As he leaned against the
granite counter-top, gazing towards the window, he contemplated
doing it now -- it wouldn't take much: a thought, some
concentration, a gathering of the fabric around him. And the world
would change, wouldn't it?

Ever since the computer screen in the lab had presented that final
blinking word, "Success", framed in glowing orange, he had been on
edge, nerves jangling, stomach in knots. Much as he'd known that he
required rest, like a child waiting for Santa, sleep had steadfastly
refused to descend upon his whirling mind.

His mind shifted gears with a visible grimace.

And what the hell was that blip last night? The force of the bends
in the fabric of reality had knocked him physically from his chair?

Was it someone else with his unique power? Or a freak of nature, to
which he happened to be the only one on the planet susceptible?

The time blip hadn't held, hadn't quite materialised into a new
timeline. Whoever, or whatever had caused it, an amateur. Could
such things be accidental? Natural? He didn't know. The simulations
hadn't answered that particular question, had they? They had never
been designed for that. He suspected that he wasn't the only person
who'd felt the effects of the blip. A clean one wouldn't have been
choppy, and would have been completely unnoticed by the population.
The one last night had been like seeing smoke -- proof that air
surrounds one, visible evidence. A clean transition would have been
sharp and clean, the population slipping into a state of suspended
activity and slipping out cleanly, no smoky evidence to suggest that
it had taken place. He might notice the transition, but only because
of who he was.

He tore his mind from the strangeness of last night. There were more
important things to do. Gently, he rubbed at his eyes feeling the
graininess. He yawned and closed his eyes for a moment.

Sleep simply wasn't an option. Not now. He could sleep after he
changed the world. Time forever, for that. Right? His eyelids
scratched with each blink.

The first rays of the rising sun peeked over the horizon, cutting
across the treetops like a knife through smoke. He blinked, rubbed
at his eyes, yawned.

Today was the day. After five long years, today was finally the day.
To hell with the anomaly.

Go to work?

There wasn't any need, but rerunning the simulation would be
prudent. He'd waited this long, he could wait until the computer had
rechecked the latest equations. That, also, would give the sun more
time to light the world. Darkness might be fun, he thought, but
daylight had some advantages. And besides, there were things to do
at work, weren't there? Fun things.

The sun greeted him, light separating through the glass as if it had
passed through a prism.

"Hello," he whispered.

The butterflies fluttered again in his stomach, but they were unable
to bend him from his course. After the sun broke free of the
horizon, he rose to his feet, making his way towards the bathroom.

The shower refreshed him, at least temporarily. This was going to be
a long day. He smiled as the warm water cascaded across his skin.
This might be the last time he'd shower alone, unless by choice.
This might be the last night he spent alone. Adventure beckoned.

After towelling off, and dressing in jeans and a T-shirt, he walked
over to the closet where he lifted a shelf. The dusty notebook lay
where he'd hidden it, five years ago. He brushed off the dust and
smiled. His thumb quickly rifled through the leaves of the book, the
first time since he'd squirrelled it away. All of what was written
within, the handwritten equations, the occult symbols, the
connections between Catholicism, Vishnu and Einstein, the
connections between the ant and the elephant, resided safely in his
head. The book weighed like a superstitious talisman in his hand. He
didn't need the book, oh no, but it felt familiar and safe, like a
old friend, light in his hands.

He slipped the notebook into his briefcase with a smile.

Five long years, broken by a single word burning on a computer
screen. The blip wasn't going to faze him. Not now.

It was still early, the sun having climbed noticeably, but not high,
in the sky above, its rays warming the spring morning. The sky was
a brilliant blue above as he stepped from the doorway, his step a
little lighter than yesterday morning. Dew reflected a million
sparkles of light from the grass as he moved, but he really didn't
notice it. The morning breeze swallowed his toneless whistle as his
feet carried him closer to his destination.

He glanced up at the sun, seemingly static against the backdrop of
blue. Motionless, but not quite. It would soon be still, he mused.
Yes, it was going to be a long, long day.

                         <---===***===--->

Ritualistically, she rose before the sun peeked out from hiding
behind the horizon. Perhaps, it was because her name mirrored the
sunrise, or perhaps it was merely habit, but she slowly made her way
to the kitchen of the small house as she nearly always did, not
bothering to dress. In the darkness, she waited for a cup of tea to
steep.

Her ribs ached above where John had punched her, her scalp felt like
a million pinpricks had replaced her hair. Slowly, she ran her
fingers from her bangs through the mild tangle to exit near the nape
of her neck.

Clutching the warm mug in two hands, she sank into the easy chair,
facing east. Patiently, she waited, goose-flesh gracing her skin.

"Dawn, my girl, why do you do this to yourself?" she whispered.

She didn't have an answer, and lapsed into quiet reflection.

She was tired -- hadn't slept a wink since John had left. At first,
she'd cowered on the floor, afraid that he'd return, knock her
around more. Then anger had set in, and she'd paused, her knees
pressing into the floor, her shaking finger ready to dial the last
digit to get the police rushing to her house. But in the end, she'd
been convinced that he was gone for good, and after double bolting
the doors, she had lain in bed, awake, listening to the house creak,
unable to sleep, trying to make sense of the skip, make sense of
John, make sense of herself, make sense of anything.

She shook her head, blonde hair peeking into the periphery of her
vision. Absently, her fingers pushed the stray strands of her hair
back behind her ear. The first rays of the sun kissed her bare skin,
illuminating the otherwise darkened room like a spotlight.

Dawn waited, clearing her mind.

The crucial astrophysics exam was today, but she struggled not to
see the ball of orange fire rising slowly before her as a mighty
sphere of hot gas, capable of incinerating anything in its path. The
star did not rotate around her, but rather following the universe's
laws, the Earth itself circling about the central feature of the
solar system, with her along for the ride. It seemed more real to
see it as a mysterious orb, propelled by the gods riding chariots,
endlessly revolving around her, day turning into night with their
passage -- the way the ancients had seen the Universe.

Some things weren't as they appear, were they?

Dawn sighed, her lips silently forming a litany.

"The sun. Not a star. The sun."

The mantra seemed to work; she felt more relaxed and with her mind
clear, she merely watched the dawn, her namesake, until the sun had
broken free, shining brightly in the blue spring sky above.

After a time, after the teacup had grown cold and empty, Dawn rose,
her bare feet leading her to the shower. Her fingers twisted the
single handle to its limit, the water temperature rising steadily
until she couldn't stand the steam, her bare body jumping from the
spray to huddle against the white tile, shivering at the kiss of hot
droplets. The sound of her moan echoed from the tiles as she
gingerly reached around the cascade, gently pushing the lever
clockwise until she could again stand under the waterfall. But only
marginally; her skin reddened under the onslaught of the water.

She glanced down towards her toes. Her eyes automatically averted
from the discoloration beginning to form just under her ribs, above
her abdomen. Her fingers, washing there, caused a slight wince, but
she continued, determined to wash every trace of John, of sex, and
of the night before from her skin. No matter how much it hurt.

After towelling off, and drying her hair, she dressed quickly in
jeans and a sweatshirt. Today should be warm enough to forego a
jacket, the spring welcome after the winter.

As she dressed, her mind began to churn. She permitted it this time,
her thoughts full of plasma, galaxies, gravity and time. Her last
exam. God, she was tired. She hadn't needed a sleepless night. Not
last night, of all nights.

She bent, picking up the book that had sparked last night.
Carefully, she smoothed its ruffled pages and placed it in its home
upon her shelf.

It was going to be a long, long day, she sighed as she slipped on
her sneakers and carefully locked the front door. The campus
library, a big sugar cube of a building, rose from the morning mists
in the distance. Today, she would walk. The walk might help clear
her mind, make up a little for sleeplessness.

The sun climbed into the blue sea above, as she brightly began to
walk towards the campus. The dew sparkled a greeting to her, her
feet leaving a trail in the front lawn. Beautiful, she thought. Her
ribs ached once as her cadence began to increase and her lungs
expanded, but she ignored the pain, concentrating on the simple act
of walking and the exam she was set to write.

Yes, it was going to be a long, long day.


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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