Well..

I am sorry to regret that my vague but amusing tale will be put on an indefinite hiatus.

 My job and school is taking over, and I have been doing a lot of stuff for flippersmack magazine. I will have no time for anything else until 12-15-07

 but do take a look at my reviews…..good stuff.

www.flippersmack.com

but for those few that have taken a look and appreciated my work, I give you my undying thanks. I will return to my fictional writingonce I finish school, but in a much different more interesting format.

 thank you all so much

- Orion Tippens

www.myspace.com/orioncanfly

Jagged Obelisk 05

Yes, I see the figure before me enveloped in a dark cloak, void of color.

and slowly…the figure approaches me, hiding its visage beneath an exaggerated hood. And suddenly the figure twists ever so slightly, and shakes. A hand is outstretched, holding a flash light.

A bright flaring light blinds me. I look away for a moment. The light is off.

It’s closer, enough to see a hint of its face. I can make out some features from the crescent shaped hole the hood has opened. I can see an edgy, hardened face, as dark as the Obelisk itself, only definable by two beaming corneas, white like twin snowflakes on the apex of winter. Perhaps its a mirage, obscured by the overlapping darkness.

“Show yourself!,” I commanded impatiently.

I heard one breath, a chuck. Then it raised it pulled back its oversized hood, revealing the face of a male darker than race, like charcoal. Its lips and nose showing a negative of the sun on the brightest day with browless eyes, still bright as the moon

He fixated himself upon me, and spoke.

“You seek not the Black Obelisk, but what’s inside?” He said in the deep monotone voice, briefly gesturing to the large rock behind.

Before I can reply, the dark man broke out in laughter. I stared in puzzlement at his sudden outburst. I stood back a little, exhibiting my lack of amusement, waiting for him to stop.

And for moments he did not. Somewhat, I tried to talk again. But his laughter only grew louder. And then he stopped.

And spoke.

“We have been watching you from the third floor.”

As I stared at him, he continued to speak.

“From the moment you appeared on the horizon, we have watched you.”

I raised my finger in a stop motion. “How many are…,” He interrupted me … with more laughter. The man looked back towards the obelisk, pointing at me with his flashlight. And suddenly a spotlight was cast upon me.

How can this enigma of a man be so childish?

After his moment of amusement, the man said, “We watched you slump in each step leaving your world behind.”

“One, two, three hundred steps away to…,” the dark man shined his light far away across the sand guiding light across the path I walked.

He paused. I waited. He raised his voice.

“…this rock in an ocean of nothing, a final end further proof of your surrender from the…,” He continued in a monotone voice pointing back down, turning off his portable light,”the your world you known.”

I have an another motive, a far more interesting one, but I dare not think it. So I stayed silent as he continued to speak.

“Many of us watched you, over 1119 souls are in inside this Obelisk… very special souls. Ones who are not dark enough for the eternal fire, or bright enough for the forever calm.”

I puzzled at the dark man’s words…he continued.

“For them, it is a grand honor of the highest. They end here, to live a perfect life towards the anti-perfect. A slap in the face to eons of organized darkness created by your gods who sit behind their metal desks, smiling as civilization crumbles below, awash in fire and ice. A perfect and most divine comedy we all remember.”

I looked up at the big rock, squinting at the tiny lights (only visible by doing so). Yes, just as I thought. I will not be alone.

The man smiled at me, but not at my sense of understanding. He had something else to say. But first he let out a chuckle. He turned on his flashlight as if it was a plaything this time. He whirled the spotlight around, and fixated it upon the Obelisk.

The Obelisk was unaffected by the light, and instead seemed to absorb it.

“The men, women and…children will remain.”

I was about the to ask him who he was, but he sensed my query and let out a chuckle as a sign that he would not answer just yet. Instead he finished his last sentence with one word that would echo throughout the rest of my life.

“Forever.”

I smiled.

(stop)

Jagged Obelisk 04

Time to stop walking.

What was left of the day is now gone. The eerie glow of the moonlit surface rose from the overwhelming shadow of the Jagged Obelisk. 

And who but me could have made it this far? In this day and age, the townsfolk would constantly say impossible, improbable, ridiculous. Ha! If only they could hear my laughter.

Ha, indeed.

And here I was, at the tail of my quest, and into the mouth of another. There is so much a greater reason of why I am here. Some would say it’s stupid, others would say its a sad cry to bring some pretentious meaning to my life story. But the great reason is simple, it’s because people say there was no reason. That I could not say. And that was enough…for now.

Quiet, I listen.

To nothing.

After the moment, I laughed at the silence.

“I hear your lies,’” I snickered to myself.

With great relief, I put my rucksack down and opened up a tiny suitcase tied to the bottom. I opened the lid and reached for a cloth, wrapped in necessities.

I unraveled a series of small light tools upon the thin wrinkly cloth. I glanced upon the  chisels, spikes, sticks, and markers strips, checking them off too quickly as I realized the time was far too late to forget such gadgets. And I wondered yet if I really needed them as I breathed a sigh of release. The weight no longer burdening my body.

However,  there was something a bit more important. I shook the small pockets within my rucksack to empty out more contents on the dirt. A collection of rare pharmaceuticals rattled about. Bottles of wakedrops, energydrops, versodrops, muscledrops, stamdrops, and many compound mixtures of the afore mentioned.

With a bit of relief, I put both my tools and my drugs back in the pockets of my rucksack.

I reached for something far more important, my special whistle.

Hooked to the two chains and a bell, this was most important. A small tiny metal whistle with an engraving of the shape of the Obelisk upon it. For this was the key to the Jagged Obelisk, and the answer to how I will enter my deepest obsession.

I had checked for this frequently many times before reaching here. After all if I didn’t have it, all would be lost. Quickly I unhooked it, and placed the opening of the metal in my mouth.

The wind was still and perfect, the air was silent. I held back my longs for a moment.

And I blew gently into the metal apparatus.  One strong breath followed by three short puffs. I repeated this twice. The high pitch noise echoed through the silence.

And I waited.

I looked to something moving within the dark walls of the Jagged Obelisk. Yes, there was something slowly shaking within its smooth texture, almost as if it was once apart of its architecture. I squinted and stared as the interruption as it moved closer and away from the stone background. Aided by the ambient sand, the shape became more defined as human. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The dark hooded figure moved towards me.

(stop)

The Jagged Obelisk 03

And after a day of continuous walking, I would look up every so often and notice the imperfections of the enormous stone. Like an ancient wooden post, its surface is constantly battered with many cuts and insertions, that one can only wonder why such a chiseled piece can withstand the abuse of time.

And how very large and tall this Jagged Obelisk appears as I near it! Reaching for the sky, its top now surpasses the sky itself. A mile high maybe?  Who really can measure that! My own eyes watered as I tried to comprehend its massive size slowly blotting out the sky and towering over me higher like that of a mighty giant leering over an ant.

Or perhaps, it was the pain in my neck..keeping my eyes ever on my destination. I ponder my greatest test as I question my own significance, so small and unimportant I must be. But even so, I have a mission for myself to reach this structure and….

Can’t think about that just yet.

I stop and look hard at the structure. Soon, I will be so close I cannot view even half of it all in one line of peripheral vision. For a moment, I take out my binoculars.

I struggle with the zoom and maneuver as my enhanced sight moves up and around the black marble-like stone. There is great difficulty due too the lack of sunshine and shadowy blackness of the stone rock. But, I can make out a few dim spots of light.

And that is truly important.

(STOP)

The Jagged Obelisk 02

Close ahead, yet so very far.

Before the great beyond, above the unsure surface, and below the vast starry ocean, stood a monolith spiked in the impossible ground. The Jagged Obelisk, a structure hidden from cosmic eyes. An enigma whispered by old age hipsters and dreamers who passed on its existence through so very tall tales. 

Who could know such an interesting place could exist in a land void of resources and human life (they say)? Within the nonstop electromagnetic storms, its stands erect, perfect atop the deep flats once engulfed by the large Ocean Pacific.

Now it’s a tall, mighty structure standing alone, only visible to those who dared to brave the electromagnetic storms and layer caked swamps around its towering slimness. A structure that from afar seemed like a mirage to the weary, a dream, and a trick of the light to those who survived the impossible trek through miles of ground, known for swallowing ignorant campers.

Behold, the Final Wonder, the last human mystery. For all our days, we humans have mastered and unmastered this tiny rock, but how could such a building go on ignored by professors and thrill seekers? I figure the answers remain with the country claiming its territory.

Vandia. The land of boring secrets, many will say. Where its king and queens for so many generations swore the Jagged Obelisk was only a bizarre deformation of rock -God’s little joke on science- shunning visitors away with apathy and xenophobic law, and later: a far more terrible problem…

At the height of the Technology Age, its citizens mysteriously vanished, said to have been quickly put in the ground by a mysterious virus called Hour Flower, a nano-engineered accident that turns men into plants. Its name derives from its starting frequency of death among its random victims.  A virus so horrible, many citizens would quickly stab themselves at the first taste of dirt on their tongue before suffering such a slow and humiliating fate.

But many locals who left the country, immune due to Hour Flower, told a different tale.

The few would tell of the Jagged Obelisk, built by the ancient Masters: those who built floating structures above the sky, the underground network of holes beneath the old cities, even mastered a way to split the atom.

What silliness, the rest would say.

 (STOP)

The Jagged Obelisk 01

My feet sank deep in the cold muck.

And with each step, I felt the dark uncultured mud soak through my thin leathery sneakers, around my ankles, to the underside of my feet inching towards my swollen toes.

That felt good.

For I have walked afar, and the mud cushioned my long agonizing steps. Walking alone, the slush waded through my socks, climbing up to my kneecaps. The mud reassured my living existence and provided an almost sensuous experience.

I walked awhile through the sludge looking back at the oasis I crossed, long forgotten the distance I traveled. Leaving my rotoscooter behind, emptied of its power, sunk in the muck while the still winds tuck the cover of time over its shiny handle braces.

Snacking on rations, and resting for mere hours on the occasional bare rock, I have lost count of the days of my seemingly endless journey. Now underneath a blanket of dark sky forever hid the stars, and perhaps even the sun itself. Time is a meaningless joke, as only changing shades of grey led the evidence of linear time. Neither creatures nor human passed along.  No trees, no bushes. Even the insects and weeds were absent.

Just what lies ahead, the only importance.

The Jagged Obelisk.

(STOP)

pause….

So much to tell, so much to transmit.

 But a serious education is in process and transmissions must wait. It may take a while, but this story will continue,

and I can not promise history foretold will take it’s planned direction

-Nevers

(stop)

Transmission 00k

Professor Nevers

(continued from TRANSMISSION 00j) 

The last survivor?!

What nonsense is this…some bizarre test? Perhaps, those in charge need to create a grand falsehood to distract me. Whatever the reason, I conceal my shock and went along with the words of the synth.

“The disintegration began seven days after we found you. We easily could have found you sooner, but we needed to observe you a little more….find out if you were truly pure.”

The synth jerked his head and back away. He/she continued in a quiet tone.

“That’s right. We could have had you the minute you savaged killed that man.”

NO, I told him/her.

I did not kill that man. My head is more clear now, and I am sure of this. I recall everything that would lead to this assumption, but the actual act. I know therefore I do. The synth ignored me and continued to speak.

“We had to save you from the coming traveler. A man we knew would arrive in town and bring terrible chaos. A Beast. He breathes a terrible virus, and in days they become like him, breathing toxin. A toxin with no defense and once latched into the brain, inside the mind…hope is gone.”

I don’t recall this. I was very busy and talked to few people, so current events were beneath my busy world.

“The symptom was information. Pure uncultured information. An uncontrolled substance, with no restrictions and quite dangerous. What the information was, I can not tell you, it’s that dangerous. Information so dangerous, the mind becomes so confused and scrambled it results into spontaneous combustion. The nanoprobes in the air react and a synthetic anti-matter substance destroys the body before the virus is spread. Unfortunately, the body is allowed to scream, and once heard, it’s to late. The information is carried. The virus is carried to the listener.”

I was a bit puzzled. He/she continued.

“But you should have been infected. You were in contact with this person, and you survived. We watched you from afar. You stood with your back facing him upon a tall cliff in a park overlooking Zeattle. The traveler talked and talked, but you ignored him. Your mind must have developed an antibiotic.”

I felt dizzy in a desperate attempt to recall this.

“I know because, I was there and that person you killed was not Government Citizen Sigma Vase.”

But I did not kill him.

“I saved you.”

And suddenly my mind went awry with music. A music that was somewhat primitive, with loud bells and louder drums. The sound had a powerful effect, bringing a terrible headache. I can no longer stand and barely noticed myself in the arms of the synth. I can hear his breath enter into my ear for just a moment as the music paused. He/she whispered:

“Let’s keep this a secret.”

Next, the music faded or I fainted. Uncertain.

(stop)

TRANSMISSION 00j

Professor Nevers

(continued from TRANSMISSION 00i)  

 I looked above the black boots at the figure before me.

All in black from head to toe with my reflection upon his visor, the guard waves a blue glowing stick. I can almost feel the device raise what little hair I have on my head before he finishes and places it back in his holster. Then, I watch him remove his helmet as he spoke.

“Your acoustic clusters have run amok, I have come to put them back in order.”

That voice seemed quite deep. But the face did not match. I suppose I can refer to the figure as a him, as his dark eyes and chiseled cheekbones expressed. However, his body shape appeared slender and almost feminine and form. A second look upon his face revealed a soft overture with pout lips and short silver hair. I quickly came to the conclusion that this figure was a genetic engineered biproduct of the new age. He/she was produced as a perfect soldiers with traits designed with the mental and physical advantages found within both genders (with feline genes as well).

The synth spoke again.

“Your acoustic clusters are not the only reason I am here.”

The synth spoke about the policies and issues regarding acoustic clusters. He/she went on about how the contained sensors never short out. He/she explained the brief history of their use from the disastrous beginnings to the latest developments including a more advanced adaptation and ability to tune beyond memory erasure.

“They never ever short out …ever.”

It was not a question I asked. But the synth leaned over, as I stared with a puzzled look. Was there something else? He continued in a very low tone.

“I can’t stay for long. But I can talk to you.”

The eyes of the synth gazed across the ceiling and towards the door. I had nothing to say to say to the synth in my confused state, only a wondering as to what he wanted to discuss. He/she walked over to the wall away from the door and folded its slender body in a comfortable fold. The synth looked back at me and smiled with those strange unfitting lips.

“Do you how lucky you really are?”

Is the synth smiling?

“Zeattle, the place you called home has no population today. Its citizens all died from a disintegration virus so new and quick, a name has yet to be determined.”

“You are the last survivor.”

(stop)

TRANSMISSION 00i

 Professor Nevers

(continued from TRANSMISSION 00h) 

I awoke the fourth day from a very deep sleep. 

As I rubbed my eyes, I noticed the walls had a much darker blue tint (as opposed to the lavender color that welcomed me yesterday). I remained motionless with my squeezed eyes poking out at the artificial emptiness. All surreal thoughts of my day in the Garden were now memories.

Then again, everything was now a memory.

I looked back on my life before captivity and wondered if anyone would miss me (certainly not my students), I had no close friends, no loves, and that was all right (burdens). I thought of the people who may notice (my superiors, the lady who prepared my earl grey, the toll collector). They will notice and life will go on. 

At least I have peace. There’s nothing like nothing.

But this time, I heard music playing in my skull. Hindu classical music.

Not something I was used to, but nice. I relaxed, as I closed my eyes and tuned myself in to this strange combination of flutes and strings. Perhaps the discovery of something new was implanted to keep the blood flowing within. I will have to thank the administrators before they wipe my skull.

But, I could not let my mind drift away. The music lifted.

I noticed an up-tempo of higher notes followed by the slight hum of a feminine voice. I tried to adjust to this oddity, but the sudden change kept me in a constant state of distraction (I recall the installed nanoprobes are supposed to relax the subject’s mind, synching with the demands of the mind, not irritate it).

Perhaps, I was thinking too much. I closed my eyes and tried to adjust to the noise. But as I did, the feminine voice changed to a louder, deeper tone. I stood up and closed my eyes tighter, in a desperate attempt to shut the music. The result was a louder sound that had lost its rhythm transforming itself into something belonging to some loud and irritating man-like beast.

The noise maddened me. At this point I felt ready to rip off my own head. I fell to my knees in anguish.

And the noise stopped…. Thank god.

I rested my head on the floor and with a blank stare at …two black boots.

How long has that black guardsman stood there?

(stop)