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Subject: Die silently
Date: Thu, 30 Oct 2003 03:02:04 -0800
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===================
second draft
DIE SILENTLY
by Frank Greene Fowlkes
He would have gladly accepted the apparent failure of his life as he
lay on the fading green grass if it wasn't for something inside
hopelessly cheering him on to live, to love, for, in reality, his
apparent failure was no fluke or anyone's fault but his own, nor was
it worth any trouble to explain away with alcohol, physical
exhaustion, or imagination if allowed to by the cheering thing gnawing
him inside
out, and, if that wasn't enough, peacefully accepting the carnal
knowledge of failure, society's unwritten worms were beginning to
violently suggestion rituals and dances, rituals and dances that would
be used for his final silent exit from the world he tried to be apart
of once, but, to the dismay of the lingering ones that mysteriously
survived the last great war, and therefore have more of a future stake
than the ones who didn't, those silent exiting dances and rituals were
no longer being accepted by the man without resistance, and, to tell
the truth, that wasn't the conflict keeping the man awake underneath
the fading stars; the conflict was he was becoming aware of the role
he was now to assume for surviving the Black Patch and not accepting
the exiting suggestions from the high IrriSoriA; they all waited
silently expecting he would assume the traditional role of the villain
to be crushed, trampled, and righteously defeated for beginning to get
in the way of their deserving flesh, and, yet, he was wise and humble
enough to know their were neither heroes or villains but only acts or
nils, and he was not about to leave this life without attempting to
write about his past relationships and future hope, and besides, he
would not assume that villainous role because the same cheery voice
that was urging him to live and love also told him he was no villain
for resisting their silent exiting suggestions; he turned his head and
stared out to the parks periphery; he could sense them waiting, the
heroes that would try to defeat his cause successfully one day for
getting in the way of their flesh, for they were backed by the
IrriSoriA, and the all knowing IrriSoriA were aware of his apparent
failure to become a member of the world and his future potential for
interfering with the plans of the selected flesh, so they were all
just standing by for the final word from the high council to assault
and end the man's last hope to become a member of the world, a last
hope to develop and launch the final newborn before the deserving
flesh that some how mysteriously survived the last war devours this
world to the bone.
The man, a spasm running down his spine, looked away from a flickering
street light and looked back up to the stars; he knew his days were
numbered either way, and he, and the gnawing inner voice, never did
like accepting silent exiting suggestions, so she was not surprised by
his decision to raise the seven seven jolly roger again as she
strapped herself into the white vehicle and tucked the opened envelope
into her coat pocket.
He popped his back and closed his eyes.
##
The craft ascended into the black sky, and the blue planet slowly
disappeared. She stared at the Black Patch for awhile before it too
was lost from view.
Franka pulled out his picture from the envelope again and stared at
the grainy image; and, only then, did she recollect his last
intercepted message "and won't you be the happy person on earth when
your flesh is triumphant," that somehow escaped her memory while still
on the blue planet and in the company of the selected flesh. She
awkwardly put the picture back into the envelope. She was no fool, for
she knew the message wasn't directed towards anyone specific but only
sent to be intercepted to bring attention to an idea, a foolish idea
really only backed up with "High School" evidence. The real reason why
she worried was because she feared he wasn't bluffing---they also
possessed the ag.7741---and because he was sending and receiving
messages to and from others that could not be intercepted.
Her recently deceased eight-six year old grandfather told her one
night that the high council couldn't figure out if he was alone or a
part of a secret movement and that the council only needed a bit more
information before deciding to eliminate the threat to deserving flesh
once and for all.
As the craft passed the two pitted moons, she smiled, thinking
silently to herself of her Grandfather's crackling last words "he will
find out how true his last intercepted message will be, flesh will be
triumphant, by God, his flesh will be triumphant."
She pulled out the knife, and she felt the blade. Fourteen will pay
dear for strangling my older sister to death, she thought, as the tip
of the blade penetrated down the side of her left index finger.
##
Four years earlier, off some distance of Interstate Five and under a
billboard of a black unicorn and a white dragon, two people moving in
and out of the artificial light and night's shadow are seen by the
passing motorists but only one astute little child in the back of a
green colored station wagon noticed the third person, whose body was
occasionally being reflected by a semi exiting the interstate.
Gail moving into the dim light was just waiting for him to speak
first. She always liked to hear her clients speak of atonement, or of
an explanation, or most often the case of mercy, right before she pump
them full of lead.
"Did your grandfather send you, Gail?"
"What the fuck is your problem P33P, or whatever the hell you call
yourself."
"So your grandfather did send you; I hear he threw another big party
to celebrate his eighty-second birthday; I'm sorry I couldn't attended
but I sure I wasn't missed."
"You weren't invited, stupid fuck."
Gail's grandfather told her about his real motives behind his latest
project. He was just pissed about the bitch in Jersey deciding to
abort his child. It's ironic that just six months later, she fucked
someone else and this time decided to keep the child because of some
newly acquired "moral consciousness," she thought while staring at the
man's facial features. She smiled thinking it was most likely that it
wasn't for some newly acquired moral quantity but she just probably
liking the features of her new fuck better and wanted the same for her
baby.
"You haven't been back to Jersey in over three years; you know she's
still single."
P33P smiled. "She doesn't need me."
He knew the woman could take care of herself, and if she couldn't then
society would assist her.
"You really think I care anymore about my child she decided to abort.
I care more about a child that is being aborted now."
"Silly, P33P, you should have known my grandfather will never allow
such research and venture to happen, especially when you are only bent
on revenge."
P33P laughed. "This is not about a dumb squaw's practice, a
hypertonically miscarriaged fetus, or her present three year old
precious baby girl , it's about aborting research, science, venture,
and labor because of Morraud's plan."
"I'm not talking about the squaw,' silly boy, there're enough of them
around to serve their purpose; I'm talking about your primitive
realization that your talent and labor is being wasted by indirectly
supporting them. Get fucking over it! It's a market economy, dummy,
and you better get use to it. It's safer and cheaper to support them
and Morraud's plan than Fourteen's risky idea. All energy and thought
will never leave this planet unless it involves Morraud's flesh."
"I love this unborn baby, Gail."
She paused and thought, that's his story--weak--more like it he just
realizes he's not going to survive or any part of him if he ever does
find one of those untouched squaws; I should've killed him without
listening to him speak.
She pulled out her gun but before she could pull the trigger he karate
chopped her neck, crushing her trachea silly.
Her teary eyes reflected an approaching body from the periphery. She
sank to her knees.
"Surprise, baby! Maybe your grandfather should've invited us, but yet
again, maybe the party has just begun."
He grabbed her short hair.
"Just like pairing a potato, wouldn't you say P33P"
P33P laughed
##
Gail looks up at him and begins to dream of Salton Sea---when she was
a little girl her grandmother told her once of her Honeymoon there
sixty years ago, blue sky and trepid water; the place is different
now, moon light and crumble. He is on the second floor of a submerge
brick motel. He is looking out of a window, and someone behind him is
talking.
"I'm fucking tired! Maybe I should have that accident we talk about
six years ago."
Sometimes there were unexplained strange ripples drifting across the
black water.
"Asphyxiate for four or five minutes---necrosis of cerebral cortex.
Time the machine for a couple of rotations, and those memories will
disappear, allowing you to live in peace," the person behind him
replies.
A bon fire is seen on the shore, and a little off to the distance, a
car's headlights, jolting in all direction, disappears from view.
"But you don't want to forget the idea, and don't want to forgive the
world's abortion, that why you hate to sleep, because when you finally
sleep your life and your potential will be erased together with the
future newborn. Remember, if she really loved you, you think you would
be here in this position. If she really loved you, you think you would
be forced to kill her one day. If anyone really cared about you and
your ideas, you think you would be force here talking with me."
The woman inhales salty tasting blood.
"You have been marginalized now because you decided to write before
the initiation of the slow death. They didn't care for what you had to
say. Some of the people your trying to protect might even provoke you
to find the justification to kill you. They wait silently for a reason
to hate you, for you see they haven't come out to help you, have they?
But relax, we have developed the agriculture fungus for this very
purpose. Of course their pesticides can destroy the fungus but it will
also destroy the very plants their trying to propagate. Morraud will
not be allowed to develop the conditions to carry out his plan I
assure you; he will not ignore the issue I promise you any longer, and
neither will his people controlling the media. We might not have his
selective death agent but we do have ag.7741. Chance is always
better."
At times a passing black object comes between the stars and earth.
Reflecting upon the muddy water, a constellation disappears only to
reappear a second later.
"Lets just see what happens; if you don't survive, don't feel bad,
neither will a lot of people, that I promise you but it must be done,
the patch's aggregation decided against Morraud's plan, for a
reduction is still naturally possible and so is the development of the
newborn. Funny many think back at the patch, that many are ignoring
Morraud's developmental conditions, such as preserving the
environment---preserving it for who, and shadowing the mind, and
shadowing all products of the mind---as if all around them just
magically appeared, but we are not ignoring and will release ag.7714
before anymore more of his conditions can take place. If he plans to
make it look like an accident or blame it on one of the dust cells,
then Morraud shouldn't be angry if we do the same."
Gail begins to vomit blood.
"You have come far since leaving the Black Patch, Fourteen. Just
remember many there are still praying. Turn around."
Fourteen turns around and looks at the old man.
"You must protect the boy P33P."
The old man turns away and heads towards the door.
First footsteps descending down a stairwell, and then faintly
retreating splashing sounds, are heard. Making an effort to breath in
the heavy air, Fourteen turning to the window one last time looks at
the fire, and then he too walks to the door and descends the spirally
stairwell.
Gail watches Fourteen put the knife back in his coat and then hears A
crackling yell from the periphery---"helicopter's ETA four minutes.
He begins to walk away.
##
Fourteen turned back said, "Stupid for you to think me and P33P were
alone."
P33P laughed. "Time to find out about Grandmother's secret!"
Fourteen pulled out his cell phone as the helicopter rose above the
city.
##
15 centimeter long, and with a diameter of 0.2 millimeter,
seven thread-wires are slowly being inserted into the posterior side
of a old woman's neck. He loosens the straps and tells her to bend
her head forward a little more. The straps are then tightening again.
"How are you feeling dear? Are you experiencing any weird sensations?
"No," a ninety-eight year old woman weakly speaks.
He rubs his fingertips together, gently grips the one wire's
lead/guide, and then begins to slowly insert the thread through her
foramen magnum and into the lower part of her brain.
Looking at the computer monitor, he notices her heart rate, 72 bpm,
and blood pressure, 180\106\94, respirations, 26 per min, and
temperature 40.2 Celsius.
"Chill, baby! Don't worry about your left leg twitching; it'll pass."
He withdrew the wire a little, and the twitching stop. He slightly
angles it to the right and slowly reinserts it.
"I don't remember anything," the woman cries out frightenly.
"Chill! I'm almost there."
First, she begins to cry for she hears her dead mother's voice, and
then later, she laughs for she is a little child playing tag with her
brother. After that, she vocalizes a stream of fragmented memories to
the operator.
The phone rings.
"No, uh..."
"She no longer has any vocal motor activity, sir."
The man grips the phone receiver harder.
"Fuck you! You know my record. I've been fishing for the past three
hours. The only explanation is she never retained any record of the
event after you left the old man with Mr. Green."
The man then angrily slams the receiver into its holder.
"Fuck Fourteen.
He looks at the woman and says, "you're not going to talk to me any
more are you Ezzy. Ah, it doesn't matter anymore, poor Gail isn't
around anymore anyway, neither will Franka if she doesn't watch out,
and neither will your memories that after probing aren't that precious
to begin with anyway."
He looks at the clock and decides to take a thirty-minute nap.
He wakes up five hours later, and curses. Turning around and seeing
the woman, he exclaims, "DAMN!"
Her head is bulging, and her grey eyes are about to pop out of their
socket. She is also breathing irregularly, and her heart rate is
beginning to slow. Sometimes her mouth opens like it want to cry out
and other times it looks like it wants to curse.
The operator quickly begins to pack his stuff, and soon exits the
room.
She sees him leave and suddenly smiles---she begins to remember
listening to a conversation her husband had with an unidentified
man---ambush P33P and give him a dose of some acid.
##
Fourteen puts the phone away and looks at young P33P. "Nothing is
going to happen to you, I promise."
The both got out of the helicopter.
"I'll see you around Fourteen, I have work to do."
##
Congratulations! You always said flesh would be triumphant all the
way to the end didn't you Morraud?"
Fourteen pats the man's head.
"It's so good to see you were right."
Morraud opens his eyes wide, lifts his head a little off the pillow,
and makes a weak grunting sound. His right hand weakly begins to grasp
for the call bell.
"No one is coming, you got this far without anyone's help,' I'm sure
you will figure out a way to go a little bit further."
Morraud turns his head away.
"I'm sorry about you having to cancel your eighty seventh birthday
too. I heard it was going to be the biggest bash ever, and why
wouldn't it be, you killed P33P and the research he was beginning."
One night P33P was intravenously given a titer dose of H-acid, a drug
that selective destroys cerebral cortex.
"He won't be interfering any more will he? And who knows he might even
serve some good yet---maybe becoming an orderly here or something."
Fourteen looks out of the window; he sees the still parade of city's
light and, a little off to the distance, and above the horizon, the
black patch.
He angrily grabs the man's head and turns it around.
"You thought you could keep me there forever, didn't you?"
The man makes some weak grunting sounds.
"I never could tolerate hearing you stories old man, not even when
Gail was there. So what, you lived through the last war! It never
occurred to you that maybe you were lucky or maybe you just
intelligently put yourself in a better position not to be killed; I
been there on the front; I know the thoughts; something as simple as
positioning yourself in the correct spatial location on the
battlefield can mean the difference between life and death. Shit!"
Fourteen smiles.
"Between fucking and masturbating, all the people back home know
that."
He lets the man's head go.
"But no! You like telling me the reason for your survival was because
of courage or, as you were beginning to explain later in your life I
hear, God's will. And now you think you have more of a right to
control the outcome than the nephew of a dead soldier. You survived
because you slyly put yourself in a better position or you just got
lucky. Which one is it, Morraud?"
He angrily grabs the man's head , the one with two over-sized ears,
again and says, "Not because of courage, and not because of God's
will! You have a responsibility because you survived. What about my
responsibility? I'm not going to survive, and it's not because of not
being graced with God's will, lack of courage, unlucky, or just dumb,
it's because you and your flesh is in my fucking way."
The old man's mouth opens, and a dry tongue moves laterally in two
directions, touching the corner of his cracked lips.
Fourteen lets go of Morraud's head, for he is thinking of young P33P.
He thinks sadly of the poor boy who will never know his potential now.
He will never know his potential or direction because his work didn't
benefit Morraud's deserving flesh. Both Fourteen and Morraud knew that
anyone that doesn't share in the stamped thoughts and cookie cutter
experiences of normal people was an abnormality, but only Fourteen
cared enough to realize those people were not a threat to the world
but were only going to save it. Fourteen told the boy once he would
always be there to protect him and if anything every happened to him
there would be revenge all up and down some family trees.
"huuu, huuhuuu, hruuu, huuu"
Fourteen thoughts are interrupted, and he looks down at the man.
"You thought if you kept me down there long enough I would
accidentally
disappear. What a surprise old man to think maybe I survived because I
was lucky enough to escape the numbing attention of concerned people,
or maybe it something to do with slyly putting myself out of positions
where I will be killed, or maybe God's will has something to do with
it, or, and my favorite, maybe it's just something to do with courage.
You should have known I survived much worse. Shit, I fucking survived
the seven seven, and if you haven't noticed I survived the black
patch, so I don't see why your surprised to see me alive after all
these years, Gail wasn't when she was on her knees."
"huuu, hhueeu, kaaa, hhueee," the old man grunts in between lateral
tongue movements.
Fourteen pats the man's head.
"You never could understand could you old Morraud. It's not about you
and your flesh getting to the precious end. It's about caring enough
to give someone that is not part of your flesh an opportunity to go
further. I know where your allegiance to your flesh will do to the
world."
"hueuuu, huuu?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, P33P's death has already been avenged.
Your only granddaughter pale Franka died in a bathtub full of cold red
water just a few hours ago, and all the sperm you froze was flushed
down the toilet."
The old man attempts to raise his head of the pillow but can't. He
easily gives up and turns his head away instead.
"huuuue, ehhuuii, hujkke"
Fourteen pauses and then frowns.
"I know Mr. Green is still alive, and I know you didn't mean to kill
some of those people you hired me to kill when your juices where still
flowing.
He looks away and thinks of Gail and their nights in bed. He used to
like it when she would bite his ear when they were fucking. At
passionate times she would bite so hard that it would bruise. He also
liked to hear her talk of things she really had no knowledge of. He
knows those day are over, never to be recovered with no one other.
After the pause, he again grabs the old man's head because he was
beginning to fall asleep.
"You know it's not polite to fall asleep until you hear a bedtime
story."
An old woman enters and gives the man his medication.
"You're the only visitor that bothers to come at this hour. You two
must be really close."
"I told him once I wouldn't miss the ending without telling him a bed
time story."
The woman weakly smiles and then exits quickly, not looking to get
involved any more than she needs to.
"You ready for your bed time story now?"
"Huuuee, helpeeu, huueue, hehhhheuuu."
Fourteen coughs and spits into the trashcan.
"Ok, Once upon a time, there was a blue planet, and on that planet
purple told someone red, "you weren't with me, you weren't there, and
you don't fucking know me."
Fourteen shows an illustration to the old man, and then turns the
page.
##
The full moon was over the salty water, and an animal's growl echoed
across the still heavy air. His back was turned to her as she
approached. She was within several meters when he turned around to
find pale light reflecting off two red eyes.
"I hope you're happy. Gail was going to give you everything"
"Sorry Franka, the promise to P33P escapes all dominion"
The woman's face twisted. She lunged at Fourteen, and Fourteen easily
picked her up and body-slammed her. She surprisingly stared up at his
face, his pitted and scarred aggressive face determined more than ever
before; only if those ancient imposed tribal inhibitions were
assertively reinforced then maybe this event could have been different
but Mr. Green never did like anyone to interfere in his plans, she
quickly thought, and, after several body-blows, it occurred to her
that she might really die this time so she screamed for help but their
was no one on earth that could save her, for Fourteen had learned to
love a new relationship, and become smarter too---fuck passion, in the
Black Patch.
"Maybe you should've stayed in that tub but maybe you figured out that
maybe life isn't that precious to pretend like anyone will notice your
death, much less any point to it other than burdening someone with the
responsibility of disposing of your body."
"Fuck you!"
[The water was cold, yet the cold air coming inside through the window
was colder. She withdrew her hand from the water and walked over to
the sink; she picked up the cheap black plastic comb. Brushing her
hair, she stared at herself in the mirror and tried to ignore the
creaking and rasping sounds coming from the empty room on the other
side of the locked door.]
"Maybe you lifted yourself out of the red water because you felt you
still had a relationship with someone in this world. Gail is dead.
Grandfather, whether he likes or not, is dead. You don't care but
P33P is dead. All of your relationships are dead. And
sooner or later you'll be dead too if you're not already, fucking
brainstem----I heard about you losing too much blood."
Franka attempted to stand up only to be knocked down again.
"No one will come to ever make you feel like you belong or have
anything to contribute, stupid bitch."
[A gust of wind rattled the window, and someone in the next motel room
turned on the television. She lightly placed her hand on the humming
and vibrating wall. The channel was switched, and the vibrations
creased.]
"All of your relationships have ended but mine. And you're not going
to get in our way. Fuck your ghosts, fuck your conscious, fuck your
memories!"
[She turned off the lights and climbed into the tub. Her hand reached
up to her neck to feel her pulse---no private Morse code but only a
relentless drum beat. The dim light under the door flickered. "Sis,
Papa, is that you?" Metal was always stronger. Metal smashed though
her flesh.]
"Kill me then, fucker!"
Fourteen pulled out his knife, thought of Gail's carved up face, and
turned away.
"I stopped the killing long ago, you know that."
She observed sad tears form underneath his two sunken orbitals.
Sensing she was looking up at him, he kicked her upside the
head.
"Ouch, I hope that didn't hurt!"
[She touched her neck again, only to feel the beats rolling faster.
The door heaved, disturbing the air in the room.
"Damn you, Gail is that you?"
"Sis, just checking to make sure everything is ok."
She rose out of the tub and opened the door, finding only warm air
rushing over her cold body.
"Everything is not fucking ok!"]
Fourteen turned around and began to walk away, the rings of water
splashing across her face becoming less and less frequent until they
stop altogether. He spoke clearly, "I don't need to kill you, for one
day you'll kill yourself. I told P33P that his life will be avenged,
and it will bitch---you wait and see. The winters will come again, and
you will finally realize there are no other relationships left on the
other side of that locked door; and in that darkness as you finally
accepted the truth, baby, I'll be there to tell you a bedtime story,
and, then, like I whispered into Papa's oversized ears and Gail's
bleeding face, I'll tell you about my new relationship that could've
of been."
She stood up, water running down her skin. She watched as Fourteen was
slowly disappearing, and before he disappeared from her view all
together, she shouted out,"flesh will be triumphant" victoriously.
##
Walking up to the seven-eleven---the one's with arcade games---Franka
felt at peace with herself; she survived Fourteen's terror, and she
knew it would only be a matter of time before she could defeat him
once and for all. She opened the stall's door, dropped her draws, and
sat down. She felt a strange calmness. She began thinking about the
simple tasks of life, snacks she would have to buy for the long drive
back, watering her plants when she gets home, and combing her hair in
front of the mirror while planning the campaign to sabotage the plans
of the new relationship. She couldn't believe it, she really survived
Fourteen's worse lunge yet. She had won, by God, she had really won
like her Grandfather told her years ago, she thought. She held her
breath, and then, sighed. Damn it, she thought, no toilet paper. She
looked up to find Fourteen staring down at her. "What the hell," were
her last words, for two high powered bullets entered her chest.
Fourteen looked down at her, and felt a little sad. She looked just
like her older sister, and he really did love her older sister until
she betrayed him.
He threw a roll of toilet paper on the dead corpse, stepped down from
the toilet, and walked to the sink. He didn't find any soap so he
didn't bother to wash his hand.
##
The sun is out, and its rays slowly warm the green grass. He feels the
bugs starting to crawl on him again. He gets up and walks over to the
Waffle House. Sitting down he accidentally hears a conversation
between five people.
"The dude rocks, man."
"How the hell do you know?"
"The dude doesn't give a fuck."
"Yeah, I guess. The dude doesn't need to quote."
"It's just a matter of time before the dude gets his dues---the money,
the fame, and the bitches."
A tall brown-eyed waitress asks the man for his order.
He looks at the waitress and thinks I don't love you anymore but not
long enough for her to notice anything wrong.
"Just a cup of coffee and a big plate of hash-browns."
[]THE END[]