Precursor

Months ago I had no friends. No. Friends. In the world, in my life.

Then I received a little gift from TPTB, a small white rat named Amy. My heart exploded into bloom like a desert flower in a monsoon. I liked that.

Please pay attention: I see things, and I'm uncomfortable with them because they are not yet things. Now I have seen things that ARE, and that's way worse.

After Amy came I knew that the time of the freeing bird was short, and that she would come for me. I knew of the rain cloud, but I always dream of the clouds and the thunder so I didn't recognize that this particular cloud was another friend.

I followed my Friend the bird into the darkest of dar'c places because I am a Hero no matter what others might say about me being a TOOL or a FREAK or a MENACE. I am elkeveo, the Hero Who Sees. See what I have seen:

A hero floating who cannot fly,
Minions from another space and time,
A soothsayer who cannot know the truth,
Vicious cuddly monsters trained to hug,
A laughing rain cloud trapped on the ground,
Lungs that scream on after they are stone.

It's too much. The world is too much, the sounds are too much, the friends who come and then go, and then return and then vanish...

I don't like that. Can I go home now?

I have looked at clouds from more sides than anyone else. I have been in the thunder, and the thunder comes from a gray cloud, a green cloud, a night cloud, the cloud of knives and fire. The future was born in a cloud of thundering possibilities, and then came the lab times. But enough about all other moments in time, those that existed and those that may exist.

In this moment I am looking for a specific pink rain cloud, a cloud of vanishing predictabilities, Schroedinger's cloud, the cloud of silent tea times and wild exuberance. Hello, cloooooud? Wherefore art thou, yon disappearing cloud?

Because to be a hero, a Real Hero, I need to find you and a certain bare herald, or we'll be up to our ankles in DOOOOM. And we'll fall in head first.

I'm so sweaty, and Dr. Manx won't respond to my page. So frustrating to know and to stay, to stand, to stop. I am Not Kidding, Doctor! I Need some time in the Answer Well, for I have Dreamed the Worst and this time, I AM THE HERO!

I must know more. Ah, the cat arrives. A certain pink rain cloud needs a savior, and a certain Messenger may know too much, and a bird may need the thunder and the storm to fly to the truth.

Please, let me go, let me know, to show, to GO!

it's not working. i tried my plan several times. first, i got a headache. then all the moisture in my mouth dried up. then my hands shook. dr. manx noticed, i know. his wee eyes flicked towards my hands, but he said nothing. the cat has fear... but he wants to be lying.

the hat janitor, dominick, says that amy is good, but that she doesn't run so much anymore. "la ratita no la gusta correr." that's on you, catman. there will be a reckoning.

Hee. I have a plan. I will have my Amy back, and Dr. Manx will bring her to me. Let me think, oh think on it, until he is here. Then. I will be not here, and Amy with me, and we'll find the bird after she rescues the raincloud. We'll see who's a hero, and who's just a scientist.

cant speak. must talk. tongue of the talker frozen off and snapped off and the cats got it. shes gone, and then shes gone. now they are all gone. why amy, dottore? why the rat, my catty friend? why amy??

trust no one. sad so sad so sad.

when a bird was here, before the rain cloud took a bird away, there was comfort under a bed. under a bed is a good idea for now.

feed amy, please. if she seems sad, give her a knit hat to snuggle in. it was a neat gift, but that janitor doesn't know about the never leaving part. he must be new.

the hiding under a bed is because of the asking about disasters. can't cant about all things. can't mention the unmentionables. visions of all things have no captions saying where, or when. must know more to know more, no?

"Elijah, why didn't you tell us about the disaster? Why couldn't you warn those people?" that voice in many mouths, that look in eyes that can't see beyond their own lives.

it's because! far away means nothing if a lab is all. far means nothing, away means nothing. nothing means anything in vision, if the vision has no referent. :: jungleoceantidalwavevillagebodydeadmotherislandpalmtree, drownbeglosegrievestarvemourn :: means nothing.

under a bed in darkness, smelling a bird in a shirt, thinking of first thunder, car noises, stillness of last back seat... you can look inside a head to find a person. under a bed, in a head.

"Why didn't you warn us about the chimpandillos, Elijah?" easy -- you didn't ask. for days for weeks you didn't ask. the asking is a reason for being, answers to questions are for the taking, and you didn't ask.

sorry for the troubles, ocean peoples. can't believe in you yet. figments inside a head you are, until the seeing is outside a head. the first word in prophet is "prop".

I'm bored. Since the bird and the rain cloud came and went, it's just been me and Amy and the books and the books.

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I've been reading. I read flopped on my bed. I read under my bed. I read with my feet up. I read with my head down.

I read the Scriptures, in all their variety. I read the crystal gazers and the entrails flingers. I read the number guys and the star guys and the dry bone guys. I read the occasional witch woman with her birth cauls and chicken meanderings. Dead scryfolk don't tell me much I haven't seen myself, but they do have great style. To quote Big N:

The great man is struck down by a thunderbolt,
The evil deed announced by the messenger's petition.

That kind of solid prognostication is a pleasure. Still, enough with pages and scribbles and bindings! I want actions! I know things, but I want things to know me.

I said to Doctor Manx, "Doctor, have I not been answering well? Why have you not been questioning me?" His response was that he had no questions.

"I think now is a good time for you to study and rest, Elijah. I predict that you'll have an exciting new assignment soon, heh heh." Ha. What a liar is the Doctor Manx. Like he knows anything about the future.

Ok, liar, I think to myself, what assignment? Defending the streets of White Stone from hordes of rampaging chimpandillos? Unlikely. The Foundation has heroes who do that, and they're going to be very busy soon. But me? I'm a prophet. I talk, I see, I answer. I don't fight so much.

The winter solstice is a good and bad time for prophets. The old druids felt the power of the long dark, and the tempo of the sleeping trees. It was great for business to predict rebirth and the coming of green times. When you're frozen and starving and scared of the night, nothing sounds as good as a sunny promise from the bearded man in charge.

Of course, sometimes a prophet can't be heard over the screaming human sacrifices as they roast alive in burning wicker baskets, especially if the prophet is inside.

I may be the Foundation's psychic-in-residence, but I'm frozen here in the dark. I'm hungry for adventure. I think that if Doctor Manx wants to play at predictions, he should beware the basket weavers. And chimpandillos, of course.

I can't stay long. I can't type... no, not like I CAN'T type, but I just can't type now.

Ok: I know about time, forwards and back, but I have no time to type...

OK: I can't type right now because Amy and I have friends in to visit.

Amy and I have friends in to visit.

Amy and I have friends.

I have friends.

FRIENDS!

Ok. I had to come back and calm myself and check if everything is right. Because It. Is. NOW. The lab alaaaaarm has been sounding for a few minutes, and that was the final part of the vision that was missing from reality. I didn't hear the sound, the wailing sound that I heard so long ago. Of course, it's the lab intruder alert. How could I know what that sounds like -- I've never heard it before. It's impossible to infiltrate The Foundation's Secret Lab, or anyway it's never been done before, until the poiping.

Amy is staring at me, and except for her whiskers she is perfectly still. Somehow she knows that something momentous is about to occur.

The bird has landed. The cage will be opened. Precursor will be free! If I don't throw up.

I'm the writing type, now that I can type again. I am weak, and hungry. Amy keeps looking at me like I'm a stranger that smells familiar, poor girl, with the twitchy nose and the red eyes. Ah! She learned a new trick: she can open the door in her SAM. What a smarty. Hee -- she just crawled up my arm and snuggled down on my shoulder. I guess she knew I needed a little hug.

Doctor Manx kept me in the Answer Well for ten days. The Foundation has ... I should whisper here ... the foundation has a bunch of new heroes who are just starting to fly and zap about, etc., and Doctor Manx is a little worried. If he had a tail it would be tucked down 'tween his legs, but he hasn't one that I've ever heard about.

The longest I've been in the Well before was three days, yes I know "three days" but really! This time was three times longer and one, Ten Days in the Answer Well, Ten. "What does the future hold, Elijah?" "How should we go forward with our plans?" "Who will lead the Foundation in years to come?" "Does this lab coat make me look fat?" Answer true and swear truth and answer. Bah. Live your life, buffoon. You'll learn it all soon enough.

Oh my, I have just learnt something about myself -- I believe that I HATE Doctor Manx. I am really unaccustomed to this much emotion -- I'm sweating and my hands are a'tremble. Maybe it's the lack of food and water -- whoa! AGAIN I am hating Doctor Manx. My my, this is, um, serious.

I must eat something now. I am drained, but I have SEEN the SCENE and I know I will soon be free.

Edited to add: I started to eat some cereal, but now Amy is freaking out at some strange sounds coming from the lab. We heard sort of a pop and a flip, like a poip! and then some whispering and banging about. I feel a little better after my bowl of Hero Crispy Fists, so I'm going to check the noises out, I think. I am ostensibly a hero, and anything would be better than waiting around.

Something is about to happen. No, I can't tell you, but you'll find out RIGHT after I do.

What do you mean, what do I mean? That would be telling, and oracle or not, prescient hero or not, I'm zipped in the lip.

Instead, I'll tidy up a bit. Clean Amy's SAM (small animal mansion), arrange the books, clean up the the various chicken leftovers on the counter, and clean out the space under the bed.

Because the Space under the Bed is KEY.

I had been storing my extra copies of European prophetical masterworks there, and a box that has every sweater I've ever worn. A sweater can be your very best friend in a lightning storm and don't I know it. I asked Dr. Manx for some tech help in storing the stuff somewhere else. He looked at me like I needed a refit -- it's true that I never ask for anything, but jeez, get a poker face! -- and then he blinked and said, "Of course, Elijah. Any particular reason?"

The reason: I need to get rid of that which I do not need. But that's for me to know, alles klar? Instead I worked a psych on the shrinker: "Of course, Doctor. I always know why I'm doing things. Don't you?" Actually I just wanted him gone.

Because the space UNDER the bed is the very key.

One of the lab techs just stopped by to do some lab thing. She smelled so nice that I stood next to her, sniffing and breathing, for a moment. Ok, for a few minutes. I suppose I was standing too close, if you want to see it that way. She got all huffy and almost pushed me away... she reached for me, to push me away, and then her eyes got really round and her pupils dilated, like when you're in a closet and you pop out to look in a mirror. She froze in that push-off position. She just stared at her hands for a second. Then she sorta shivered all over and folded her arms tight across her nametag.

She said, "Sorry, Elijah. I didn't mean to touch you." Well, ok she didn't touch me. They never touch me; they think I'll know all their secrets. That's psychometry, by the way, not one of mine. Augery, bibliomancy, ceraunoscopy, clairvoyance, cledonomancy, gyromancy, ornithomancy, stichomancy, and those folded paper snapper things, sure. Don't get me started. But not psychometry, yet.

"Well," I replied, "You don't mind touching Dr. Manx." She went pale. Do you know how that looks? Like her big toe was a valve, and she opened it and all the blood in her face rushed out of her feet. Why do the techs still freak out at the truth? It's not like I'm a brand new member of the Foundation. They know my powers.

She stammered something that wasn't a lie but was lots of stupid denial. I snorted and said, "Oh please, I don't mean gross stuff." I flopped down on my bed and talked to the ceiling. "You just stand too close to him sometimes, and you wear that perfume because you want him to remember your name."

Her toe had sucked up all the blood I guess, because it was back in her face by that time, and she practically ran out the door. Blushing, said Mark Twain, is something that only men can do, or need to do. I know that Amy never blushes, for instance, and I've watched her licking and cleaning every inch of her fur. She doesn't mind.

Oh, the perfume is called Command by the way. It's nice -- like pie, and flowers.

Time is reaching a vinculum, a crux of import. A crossroads, as it were, when/where something tremendous will happening. I can see the Event, and it's a doozy. Heehee! Yes, I'm rubbing my hands together. These gloves make it hard to type but I just can't stop wearing this costume. This hero business may turn out ok!

Bah, someone is buzzing the Answer Well. "Ew, yr so smart tell me what shoes to wear, what car to buy, which dictator to back, which elements to combine whenwillifindlove."

Really bugging me BUGGING MEEE! Sheesh GTG.

yr testing, always with questions, and so a few days yr gone and then those days are gone for. Easy questions, because answers are known -- the Answers are all now, all known, all none. Ask me, and duck. So the days are asking me the questions, and the answers are already to be answered, and then the days are flown and never flying to me, always toward the end.

Don't argue with me, augury! You free me, a bird to open my grilled cage. So. I wait as time and tide pass the patient patient.

***

Yeah. I'm sorry. It's hard to spend time mixed up in the future. I'm back from the lab for now, but I'm not together yet. Maybe, not until we are together. For now I'm ok.

Wow.

18. Bd6!!

Now why didn't I see that? I mean I did see it, right there, b&w, but remembering before it happens is the trick.

Comments.
Comets.
Go Mets? Not for 15 years, I fear.
Eye fear. Eiffel tower. I fall, toward her.

Maybe this Live Journal isn't a good idea. The mood things don't look like me.