Victoria Pearson's Blog, page 4
June 22, 2012
So Dark It Feels
So dark it feels, this world called home,
So bitter cold it
seems.
I’ll wrap you in a
cloak of night,
Thick and warm as shadows are,
Keep you safe from spite,
Croon you a lullaby and wish
To sing away the demons in your soul,
Light a candle in my
mind to chase the darkness away.
Instead we stand, arms flailing,
Teetering on the edge
of the abyss,
And all we can do is
muddle through,
And hope.
May 28, 2012
Real Rapunzel, Tale of the Tower
An improved and expanded version of this story now exists, but will not be appearing here just yet. Details to follow shortly!
Once upon a time there was a woman, who had lost her love in
a pointless war in a place she hadn’t even heard of, and she was left destitute but for a small house, alone
and pregnant. Now in those days it was an unusual thing for a woman to raise a
child by herself, and most people assumed she would take up with someone else, who
could help her deal with the tribulations of raising a child and help her stave
off her loneliness. But the woman had truly lost her love, and didn’t feel she
was ready to love again.
Time passed and the woman gave birth to a daughter who she
named Rapunzel. She was beautiful from
the day she was born, a fair and quiet baby, but an emptiness clung to the
mother’s heart, she began to feel that her babe was too lovely to be shown to
the world; she couldn’t shake the insistent feeling that someone may try to
take the child from her.
Now as it happened, the mother had worked on and off for
various people during her pregnancy, cleaning mostly, but cooking and so on for
those that couldn’t too. One of the people she worked for was a rich old man,
far too elderly to cook and wash and do the laundry, and he had often paid the
woman for the time she would spend with him once the chores were done. He had a
great love of the sound of his own voice, but was a frightful bore, so this was
the best way for him to ensure somebody would listen to him. The mother could barely remember one tenth of
what he used to bang on about, but she did happen to remember the tower he
spoke of. He had discovered it as a boy, used it as a bachelor, even lived there for a few years before
he got married. She remembered the tower distinctly , because she had been
aghast when he told her that it didn’t even have a door, only a large window,
and that he would set his ladder to the wall and climb through, pulling the
ladder up behind him.
“A ladder?!” she had exclaimed “then how high was the
window, dare I ask?”
“Oh at least three stories, my gal, at least three.” He had
wheezed.
“Three stories you say?” she’d said, playing along with the
story, a distraction from the awful task of cutting his terrible toenails. “I’d
have not wanted to be the one bringing the shopping in.”
“You’d just take what you could on yer back my gal. No job
at really, was young then, of course.” Then a look she would never forget stole
into his eyes, a joy so real it brought tears to her eyes, “it was worth it
though, Do you know in all my years, I’ve never felt so safe, as I did there.
So peaceful.” And he’d proceeded to tell her about the hidden glade in the
woods, how isolated it seemed, how no-one ever came close. Then he’d laughed
his wheezy laugh and gone on to tell her how easy it was to get to the tower,
even though it couldn’t be seen from the road.
“Weren’t you worried though, being outside the town walls?”
she’d asked.
“There’s more to fear in town than out my gal” he’d said
“and anyway, it’s a stone tower with no door. Who’s going to think anyone is in
there?”
She hadn’t understood what he’d meant then, when he said
there was anything to fear in town. But the more she thought about it now, with
her baby in her arms, the more she understood. Nobody could take her Rapunzel
away if there was nobody around, could they? The idea buzzed around and around
her head, but she had no family or friends to talk to and let it out. Then ,
one sunny morning she got up, washed, dressed and fed baby
Rapunzel, and then started to pack up some things, not much, just a few
things her and her baby would need for 2 or three days. Then she tied her baby
to her back in a papoose and went to dig out her ladder. It was only a story
high, if that, but she just had to hope the old man had been exaggerating. She
tied her bags to either end of her ladder and set out, baby on her back.
The marketplace seemed louder than ever and the mother felt
frightened as she walked past red faced men, shouting their wares. She gathered
her courage together and walked through the market for Rapunzel’s sake. She had
to get her precious baby away from this awful rabble of shouty men. She had to
get her away from the envious stares of other mothers, who wished Rapunzel was
their own. She had to keep her safe and away from all harm.
She had been right about the old man’s exaggeration, the
window was set high enough that a man on a horse would not have been able to climb
into it, but it was nowhere near three stories high. She could reach it, just,
on her ladder. She jiggled at the sash window, just the way the old man
described, fearing all the while that the frame would have swollen, or rotted,
that she would fall to her death and Rapunzel’s (who was still strapped to her
mother’s back) but just as she was about to abandon hope for despair, the
window gave way, and slid slowly open. She peered into the gloom beyond, and
then leant her belly on the window frame, tilting inward so she could test her
weight on the floor, without leaving the touch toe security of the ladder. It
seemed ok to her. Time to take the plunge. She climbed in.
The first time she’d had to leave Rapunzel she was
distraught, but it had to be done, they had to be fed. She waited until
Rapunzel was sound asleep in her little drawer (she was still too small for a
bed, and the tower didn’t have a crib) and she let down the ladder, creeping
quietly down. She left it a goodly distance away, so no one would see it and
think to explore the tower, then went to go and get their things. The tower was
already quite adequately equipped, with twin beds, a small shower room and a
kitchenette. She collected up a few pots and pans, but hesitated when it came to
the knives. She shouldn’t have anything sharp in the tower, she would have to
leave to get food from time to time, and little Rapunzel might cut herself.
She’d be toddling soon enough, into everything. She couldn’t risk it. No knives
in the tower. She would keep this house, the house that had belonged to her
beloved, and prepare the food here, do all the chopping, slicing and grating,
then take it to the tower to be cooked. She couldn’t leave he baby for long.
She packed up all she could, and hurried back to the tower.
The next few years were exactly as dull and safe as the
mother had hoped they would be. At first
she sat and rocked her baby, and knitted and sewed and scrubbed her way to
making the tower a pretty little home.
She filed Rapunzel’s little nails and brushed her beautiful hair. She had to
leave from time to time, more and more as Rapunzel got older and needed more.
She had to take up a cleaning job again, and fretted every time she left 5 year old Rapunzel sleeping alone. Rapunzel
was already a keen reader and loved books more than anything else, so almost
every morning when mother would return from her night shift, she would bring her a
new book. Life was good, like they were
the only two in the world, just the way mother liked it.
* * * * *
Rapunzel hummed to herself, brushing out her long, long
hair. It was ridiculous really, how long it had gotten, trailing on the floor,
but mother had never let her get it cut, said it was too dangerous. Mother,
however, often went off into town to get her hair cut. She was off in town so often;
Rapunzel might as well live in the tower alone. Except then she would be
allowed to leave. She knew, from all of the books she read, that children were
normally allowed to leave their homes, come and go as they pleased, meet other
people. She was eighteen years old, and had never felt what it was like to walk
on sand, or feel grass underneath her feet. The only voices she had ever heard were her mother's and the birds.
She sighed and went to the window, throwing it open and leaning far out
so she could feel the breeze, watching the birds with envy.
“Are you ok, My lady??” a voice hailed her from below. It was a voice
like she had never heard before. She looked down, surprised at the man on the
horse. She had never seen either such thing before, only the deer. She recognised the animal only from her many books.
“I’m fine” she said eventually, because she didn’t know what
else to say. “Who are you?”
“I’m a knight. Well I will be. I’m off to find a quest to
do, you see.” His horse shifted, as if even he was embarrassed by the long
pause that followed. He hadn’t actually told her his name, so Rapunzel didn’t
feel she should offer hers. Eventually he spoke.
“How did you get up there?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “A wicked old witch locked me up here.”
She said, ladling heavy sarcasm into her voice.
His brow furrowed.. “I could rescue you if you like?” he
sounded almost apologetic, “I haven’t been out looking for a quest for long, so
I can easily pop home and get a ladder. That way everyone wins.”
She stared at him for a little while longer. He continued to
speak, babbling away into the silence.
“I mean,” he went on “ I get to have my quest done nice and quick, you get to be rescued,
and we can get married at the same time as my brother, next week.”
“I’m sorry, married?”
“well, I’m saving your life, its only fair.”
She sighed. He seemed ever so nice and all, but she most
certainly did not want to escape from belonging to one person, only to belong
to another.
“Go away,” she said “the witch will eat you if you don’t. Go
away and find some other damsel to rescue. I’m not ready to get married!”
“I meant no offence, dear lady” he called to her. “Can I
offer no aid?”
She turned back, a sudden thought occurring.
“Could you toss me up a small blade, one that I may keep
hidden on my person?”
He obeyed unthinkingly, clearly a man used to following
orders, tossing up a small folding knife, even as he voiced his misgivings.
“That little blade will not strike a mortal blow, my lady”
“It is not intended to.” She smiled smugly “women’s ways are
cunning, not violent.” And she shut the window before he could ask her what she
meant, for she didn’t really know yet. All she knew was she didn’t need some
boy knight on a horse who was willing to marry someone they had just met to do
her rescuing for her. She could handle that herself.
She tried approaching the subject gently, talking about being
18 and ready to start earning her keep, going to work with her mother. Mother
was horrified.
“There is no way, Rapunzel, absolutely no way that you are
leaving this tower, not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” she screamed, advancing
on her daughter. “It is far, far too dangerous out there!”
“But you’ll be with me mum, you’ll look after me. Just an
hour or two?” she pleaded, “please, I just want to meet some new people.”
“There is no-one worth meeting, Rapunzel. No-one. You are
good and pure and precious, you can’t go among those filthy loud other people,
Rapunzel. You are not like them.”
“In what way am I different mother?” Rapunzel was shouting
now.
“Because you are mine!” her mother screamed back, “you are
my baby!”
They both stood staring at each other, mirror images of each
others trembling rage.
“you have enough food for this week” her mother said
eventually “I’m going to go to my house, cal down.”
“if we were normal that would be our house” Rapunzel
muttered as her mother scrambled down the ladder and took it away, “if you were
normal”
She searched through the thousands of books that lined the
walls, for mother had been good in that department and continued to get
Rapunzel a book a day for years, until she found a book on hand weaving and
began to read.
When it got too dark to read by the candlelight, Rapunzel
got to work on her hair. She plaited it into tiny braids. By morning her
fingers were numb for she had been plaiting all night. She finished the last,
sealing it with candlewax at the end like she had all the others as the dawn
chorus began. So it was, with the window thrown open, listening to the sound of
morning birds, that Rapunzel took the knife, and cut the plaits off as close to
her scalp as she could.
When her head was shaved and the meters of plaits lay on the
floor, she took a break for breakfast, and to pack up her mother’s backpack.
Then she began tying each braid to the bedstead and began to braid them into
the tightest rope that someone that had only ever read about weaving could
manage. The sun was nearly setting when she was finished weaving her rope. She was somewhat worried about leaving her home to enter unknown in the
dark, but a voice inside her was screaming “hurry hurry hurry” in case her mother relented her tempestuous
mood and came back to the tower early. She left a heartfelt if hasty letter to
her mother.
Dearest mother,
I am sorry I cannot be
yours forever. I have to assess my own risks now, live my own life. I will come
back to you soon, mother, to visit, and to show you that the world is not so
dark a place but first I must find my own way.
I love you,
Rapunzel xx
She then put on almost all of the clothing she owned, slung
her back pack on her back, and looked at the sheer drop below. She really hoped
her rope held. What if it didn’t? She could lay there for days, hurt with no
help to hear her.
She looked around her room again, at the books that lined
the walls. She’d hate to treat her books this way, but could see no other
option. She started grabbing armful and flinging them out of the window, so
she’d have something to cushion her fall.
Then she took a breath, and lowered herself out of the
window with the hair rope. As it happened she didn’t need to throw her books
down, the rope held fine. She crouched down and touched the grass with her
fingertips. She touched the tower with her other hand, felt the familiar smooth cool stones.
“Goodbye” she whispered. She turned her face to the dying
sun, and walked off into her own sunset.
Once upon a time there was a woman, who had lost her love in
a pointless war in a place she hadn’t even heard of, and she was left destitute but for a small house, alone
and pregnant. Now in those days it was an unusual thing for a woman to raise a
child by herself, and most people assumed she would take up with someone else, who
could help her deal with the tribulations of raising a child and help her stave
off her loneliness. But the woman had truly lost her love, and didn’t feel she
was ready to love again.
Time passed and the woman gave birth to a daughter who she
named Rapunzel. She was beautiful from
the day she was born, a fair and quiet baby, but an emptiness clung to the
mother’s heart, she began to feel that her babe was too lovely to be shown to
the world; she couldn’t shake the insistent feeling that someone may try to
take the child from her.
Now as it happened, the mother had worked on and off for
various people during her pregnancy, cleaning mostly, but cooking and so on for
those that couldn’t too. One of the people she worked for was a rich old man,
far too elderly to cook and wash and do the laundry, and he had often paid the
woman for the time she would spend with him once the chores were done. He had a
great love of the sound of his own voice, but was a frightful bore, so this was
the best way for him to ensure somebody would listen to him. The mother could barely remember one tenth of
what he used to bang on about, but she did happen to remember the tower he
spoke of. He had discovered it as a boy, used it as a bachelor, even lived there for a few years before
he got married. She remembered the tower distinctly , because she had been
aghast when he told her that it didn’t even have a door, only a large window,
and that he would set his ladder to the wall and climb through, pulling the
ladder up behind him.
“A ladder?!” she had exclaimed “then how high was the
window, dare I ask?”
“Oh at least three stories, my gal, at least three.” He had
wheezed.
“Three stories you say?” she’d said, playing along with the
story, a distraction from the awful task of cutting his terrible toenails. “I’d
have not wanted to be the one bringing the shopping in.”
“You’d just take what you could on yer back my gal. No job
at really, was young then, of course.” Then a look she would never forget stole
into his eyes, a joy so real it brought tears to her eyes, “it was worth it
though, Do you know in all my years, I’ve never felt so safe, as I did there.
So peaceful.” And he’d proceeded to tell her about the hidden glade in the
woods, how isolated it seemed, how no-one ever came close. Then he’d laughed
his wheezy laugh and gone on to tell her how easy it was to get to the tower,
even though it couldn’t be seen from the road.
“Weren’t you worried though, being outside the town walls?”
she’d asked.
“There’s more to fear in town than out my gal” he’d said
“and anyway, it’s a stone tower with no door. Who’s going to think anyone is in
there?”
She hadn’t understood what he’d meant then, when he said
there was anything to fear in town. But the more she thought about it now, with
her baby in her arms, the more she understood. Nobody could take her Rapunzel
away if there was nobody around, could they? The idea buzzed around and around
her head, but she had no family or friends to talk to and let it out. Then ,
one sunny morning she got up, washed, dressed and fed baby
Rapunzel, and then started to pack up some things, not much, just a few
things her and her baby would need for 2 or three days. Then she tied her baby
to her back in a papoose and went to dig out her ladder. It was only a story
high, if that, but she just had to hope the old man had been exaggerating. She
tied her bags to either end of her ladder and set out, baby on her back.
The marketplace seemed louder than ever and the mother felt
frightened as she walked past red faced men, shouting their wares. She gathered
her courage together and walked through the market for Rapunzel’s sake. She had
to get her precious baby away from this awful rabble of shouty men. She had to
get her away from the envious stares of other mothers, who wished Rapunzel was
their own. She had to keep her safe and away from all harm.
She had been right about the old man’s exaggeration, the
window was set high enough that a man on a horse would not have been able to climb
into it, but it was nowhere near three stories high. She could reach it, just,
on her ladder. She jiggled at the sash window, just the way the old man
described, fearing all the while that the frame would have swollen, or rotted,
that she would fall to her death and Rapunzel’s (who was still strapped to her
mother’s back) but just as she was about to abandon hope for despair, the
window gave way, and slid slowly open. She peered into the gloom beyond, and
then leant her belly on the window frame, tilting inward so she could test her
weight on the floor, without leaving the touch toe security of the ladder. It
seemed ok to her. Time to take the plunge. She climbed in.
The first time she’d had to leave Rapunzel she was
distraught, but it had to be done, they had to be fed. She waited until
Rapunzel was sound asleep in her little drawer (she was still too small for a
bed, and the tower didn’t have a crib) and she let down the ladder, creeping
quietly down. She left it a goodly distance away, so no one would see it and
think to explore the tower, then went to go and get their things. The tower was
already quite adequately equipped, with twin beds, a small shower room and a
kitchenette. She collected up a few pots and pans, but hesitated when it came to
the knives. She shouldn’t have anything sharp in the tower, she would have to
leave to get food from time to time, and little Rapunzel might cut herself.
She’d be toddling soon enough, into everything. She couldn’t risk it. No knives
in the tower. She would keep this house, the house that had belonged to her
beloved, and prepare the food here, do all the chopping, slicing and grating,
then take it to the tower to be cooked. She couldn’t leave he baby for long.
She packed up all she could, and hurried back to the tower.
The next few years were exactly as dull and safe as the
mother had hoped they would be. At first
she sat and rocked her baby, and knitted and sewed and scrubbed her way to
making the tower a pretty little home.
She filed Rapunzel’s little nails and brushed her beautiful hair. She had to
leave from time to time, more and more as Rapunzel got older and needed more.
She had to take up a cleaning job again, and fretted every time she left 5 year old Rapunzel sleeping alone. Rapunzel
was already a keen reader and loved books more than anything else, so almost
every morning when mother would return from her night shift, she would bring her a
new book. Life was good, like they were
the only two in the world, just the way mother liked it.
* * * * *
Rapunzel hummed to herself, brushing out her long, long
hair. It was ridiculous really, how long it had gotten, trailing on the floor,
but mother had never let her get it cut, said it was too dangerous. Mother,
however, often went off into town to get her hair cut. She was off in town so often;
Rapunzel might as well live in the tower alone. Except then she would be
allowed to leave. She knew, from all of the books she read, that children were
normally allowed to leave their homes, come and go as they pleased, meet other
people. She was eighteen years old, and had never felt what it was like to walk
on sand, or feel grass underneath her feet. The only voices she had ever heard were her mother's and the birds.
She sighed and went to the window, throwing it open and leaning far out
so she could feel the breeze, watching the birds with envy.
“Are you ok, My lady??” a voice hailed her from below. It was a voice
like she had never heard before. She looked down, surprised at the man on the
horse. She had never seen either such thing before, only the deer. She recognised the animal only from her many books.
“I’m fine” she said eventually, because she didn’t know what
else to say. “Who are you?”
“I’m a knight. Well I will be. I’m off to find a quest to
do, you see.” His horse shifted, as if even he was embarrassed by the long
pause that followed. He hadn’t actually told her his name, so Rapunzel didn’t
feel she should offer hers. Eventually he spoke.
“How did you get up there?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “A wicked old witch locked me up here.”
She said, ladling heavy sarcasm into her voice.
His brow furrowed.. “I could rescue you if you like?” he
sounded almost apologetic, “I haven’t been out looking for a quest for long, so
I can easily pop home and get a ladder. That way everyone wins.”
She stared at him for a little while longer. He continued to
speak, babbling away into the silence.
“I mean,” he went on “ I get to have my quest done nice and quick, you get to be rescued,
and we can get married at the same time as my brother, next week.”
“I’m sorry, married?”
“well, I’m saving your life, its only fair.”
She sighed. He seemed ever so nice and all, but she most
certainly did not want to escape from belonging to one person, only to belong
to another.
“Go away,” she said “the witch will eat you if you don’t. Go
away and find some other damsel to rescue. I’m not ready to get married!”
“I meant no offence, dear lady” he called to her. “Can I
offer no aid?”
She turned back, a sudden thought occurring.
“Could you toss me up a small blade, one that I may keep
hidden on my person?”
He obeyed unthinkingly, clearly a man used to following
orders, tossing up a small folding knife, even as he voiced his misgivings.
“That little blade will not strike a mortal blow, my lady”
“It is not intended to.” She smiled smugly “women’s ways are
cunning, not violent.” And she shut the window before he could ask her what she
meant, for she didn’t really know yet. All she knew was she didn’t need some
boy knight on a horse who was willing to marry someone they had just met to do
her rescuing for her. She could handle that herself.
She tried approaching the subject gently, talking about being
18 and ready to start earning her keep, going to work with her mother. Mother
was horrified.
“There is no way, Rapunzel, absolutely no way that you are
leaving this tower, not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” she screamed, advancing
on her daughter. “It is far, far too dangerous out there!”
“But you’ll be with me mum, you’ll look after me. Just an
hour or two?” she pleaded, “please, I just want to meet some new people.”
“There is no-one worth meeting, Rapunzel. No-one. You are
good and pure and precious, you can’t go among those filthy loud other people,
Rapunzel. You are not like them.”
“In what way am I different mother?” Rapunzel was shouting
now.
“Because you are mine!” her mother screamed back, “you are
my baby!”
They both stood staring at each other, mirror images of each
others trembling rage.
“you have enough food for this week” her mother said
eventually “I’m going to go to my house, cal down.”
“if we were normal that would be our house” Rapunzel
muttered as her mother scrambled down the ladder and took it away, “if you were
normal”
She searched through the thousands of books that lined the
walls, for mother had been good in that department and continued to get
Rapunzel a book a day for years, until she found a book on hand weaving and
began to read.
When it got too dark to read by the candlelight, Rapunzel
got to work on her hair. She plaited it into tiny braids. By morning her
fingers were numb for she had been plaiting all night. She finished the last,
sealing it with candlewax at the end like she had all the others as the dawn
chorus began. So it was, with the window thrown open, listening to the sound of
morning birds, that Rapunzel took the knife, and cut the plaits off as close to
her scalp as she could.
When her head was shaved and the meters of plaits lay on the
floor, she took a break for breakfast, and to pack up her mother’s backpack.
Then she began tying each braid to the bedstead and began to braid them into
the tightest rope that someone that had only ever read about weaving could
manage. The sun was nearly setting when she was finished weaving her rope. She was somewhat worried about leaving her home to enter unknown in the
dark, but a voice inside her was screaming “hurry hurry hurry” in case her mother relented her tempestuous
mood and came back to the tower early. She left a heartfelt if hasty letter to
her mother.
Dearest mother,
I am sorry I cannot be
yours forever. I have to assess my own risks now, live my own life. I will come
back to you soon, mother, to visit, and to show you that the world is not so
dark a place but first I must find my own way.
I love you,
Rapunzel xx
She then put on almost all of the clothing she owned, slung
her back pack on her back, and looked at the sheer drop below. She really hoped
her rope held. What if it didn’t? She could lay there for days, hurt with no
help to hear her.
She looked around her room again, at the books that lined
the walls. She’d hate to treat her books this way, but could see no other
option. She started grabbing armful and flinging them out of the window, so
she’d have something to cushion her fall.
Then she took a breath, and lowered herself out of the
window with the hair rope. As it happened she didn’t need to throw her books
down, the rope held fine. She crouched down and touched the grass with her
fingertips. She touched the tower with her other hand, felt the familiar smooth cool stones.
“Goodbye” she whispered. She turned her face to the dying
sun, and walked off into her own sunset.
May 19, 2012
The song of the Unborn
Suspended in darkness like nothingness awareness is born. Red
light streams through, lights up all, and then fades. Warmth is felt, in swift
caressing touches.
Behind all the ever
present rhythm whoosh whoosh whoosh never
changing with the light. Intermittent gurgling comes and goes bringing new
tastes and renewed energy. Other sounds are heard, a quick and high soprano
nonsense, a deep and resonating reassuring bass. A world of music and darkness
and streaming red light, all is perfect.
But it is getting a little cramped in here….
This was written when I saw someone say that they had tried to write a story from a baby's point of view, without using "I". He was right of course, the unborn probably don't think using "I". I wish I could remember who it was, so I could thank them for the writing prompt.
May 15, 2012
Before Digital Dreams
This, again, is another work in progress, subject to change (lots), particularly the title. The idea had been buzzing around my brain for too long, had to be put out there. Enjoy and, as ever, let me know what you think :~)
Back in the olden days, way before even my parents were
born, I know it is odd to think of your grandmother having parents but I did, well
back then, they didn’t have palm discs. They had no access to collective
information at all. I mean, they thought their technology was cutting edge,
they really did, but if they wanted to find out something, or speak to someone
that was further away than you are from me now, they had to use a machine. The machines
started off big and clunky, and were attached to the walls of the house with
wires, you couldn’t take them with you anywhere, they were useless really, but
without them we wouldn’t have the advantages we have today. Like the candle
being the forerunner to the electric light, I suppose.
Now the more a person uses something, becomes accustomed to
it, the more they tend to rely on it. It was that way with the forerunner of
the palm disc. The internet, I think they called it. People got fed up I
suppose, having to get to their home or place of work to be able to find out a fact, or listen to a
song, or talk to someone in another part of the world. They began to create smaller and smaller
devices to do the job, tiny versions of their home machines, that ran on
something called battery power, although don’t ask me how that works as I have
no idea. Soon they could speak to people all over the globe, listen to whatever
song they liked, and find out any fact. But it was onerous; to find the exact
thing you wanted took time and patience.
People started to abuse it, use the network to humiliate and bully, to
watch unsavoury things happening to less fortunate people. It turned from a
positive, ground breaking way of drawing people together to a dark underbelly
of illegal and immoral behaviour. You see, there was no one party looking after
us then, every country had its own rules and regulations, but the world as a
whole didn’t, as such. What was acceptable in one culture was unacceptable in
another. Not like now, the internet was a lawless beast, and profited those who
knew how to best use that advantage.
The debate over the use and policing of this internet was
already raging when TechnoSystems (May they reign forever) first floated the
idea of the palm disc. They argued since theft of the mobile devices was
causing such problems within the teenaged community, the safest way to prevent
it was to stop the devices from being able to be physically taken away. There
were rumours that they tested the palm disc first on animals, then on convicts,
do you remember learning about crime and punishment? Before finally floating the product. The
company’s staff members already had the palm discs installed, and could all
give testimonies that the product worked well, that they did not inhibit use of
the hand, and indeed were even friendly to the environment, as they were
recharged by the body’s own electric charge, no need for batteries. That was another hot topic of the day, my
mother told me; we were, after all, a
lot more dependent upon the environment then. We used to go outside almost every
day.
There was no longer any need for tedious searching for that
song whose name you could not recall, for if you hummed a few bars the song
would play, note perfect, directly into your brain, and the details of the
song, composer, writer, singer, instrumentalists would be available to you
(this was before TechnoSystems perfected it of course. The information would
write itself in your brain, and you would have to read it. Things have come
along much further now. Progress).
In the olden days, before TechnoSystems (may they reign
forever), if you wanted a story about a mermaid and a hairpin, you would either
have to search for one or create it yourself. Can you imagine? If you wanted to know what life was like in
other countries, you would have to read about them, find out. I know it is
difficult for you to understand, young one. These words are all from so very
long ago; even I don’t fully understand it. I am just telling you what my
mother told me. But she said that just
wondering was not enough to gain you knowledge. You had to learn. Now of
course, if I want to know what the weather is like in Aberdeen today I know it
is 11 degrees outside with a southerly wind and scattered showers before I even
finish the thought.
Of course some people resisted the idea of the palm disc,
people always do don’t they? And the elite at the time were those that had
spent years gaining knowledge, knowledge of course being power back then, and
they were not happy about the democratization
of learning. People were easier to control when they knew only a little.
But of course, the resisters can’t hold back the tide of progress. Soon every
adult had been fitted with their personal palm disc, older children too.
Different companies started to spring up with their own versions, but
TechnoSystems was by far the most popular, the original always being the best.
They ran a competition, your great grandfather was one of the winners, not that
he knew it at the time, and they gave out 10 000 palm discs to new-born babies.
Of course, now it is as standard as cutting the umbilical cord, but parents
groups at the time were outraged, and your great grandfather’s mother was even
spat at on the street for allowing her baby to be fitted with the disc. People
were convinced that the problems they had had with the internet, most notably
unsuitable images, would transfer to the palm disc, exposing the babies to
terrible peril. TechnoSystems (May they reign forever, of course) protects us,
of course, ensured no such thing could be seen. They studied the 10 000
carefully, and six months after the first trial they announced their findings.
You see, before we had the palm discs, babies could not
communicate at all. All they could do was cry, and the poor parents had to
attempt to extrapolate from the tone of cry, the time and the duration what the
infant’s needs were. All very stressful and time consuming. Now that the babies
were connected, they had merely to think of sustenance and the caregiver would
know immediately to feed them. They had but to feel tired and they would be put
to bed. Their intelligence, when compared to other babies of their age without
a palm disc, was astounding. Whilst non palm babies could not even speak at six
months, palm babies could hold, and sometimes win, entire debates in multiple
languages, sending thoughts directly to the sender. Within weeks of the
findings being released, millions of parents turned up at TechnoSystems offices
around the world, demanding their babies be fitted. The government (the people
who ran the country before TechnoSystems, you remember from your history
download?) were concerned that poorer children may miss out, so TechnoSystems
made the basic fitting free, with apps and downloads costing extra. Demand
surged, and the poorer people who had had badly fitted palm discs applied at
cheaper, imitation companies, clamoured to have their old discs replaced with
shiny new ones by TechnoSystems.
Within maybe three
years of releasing its product, TechnoSystems had a disc in almost every palm
in the world. We used them to communicate, to learn, even to moralise and learn
how to behave. Can you imagine what it was like for people back in those dark
ages, never truly knowing right from wrong? Constantly having to decide for
yourself? Thank goodness we have TechnoSystems to keep us on the right track.
We would be lost without them.
That is of course, the real reason TechnoSystems became the
leaders of the world. Because we need them. Without them we are animals in the
dark, relying purely on ourselves for guidance. Can you imagine the loneliness
people must have felt when they were alone in their heads? Everything else is just circumstances. But
without the virus, TechnoSystems (May they reign forever) may not have ended up
where they are now so quickly.
TechnoSystems had been running for nearly a decade, were
already in a position of power, lobbying the government, richest company in the
world, all of that. So when the virus
struck, they were already positioned to help. I know there are conspiracy
theories, there always are of course, but I know the Leader would not have put
us in any danger, and nothing at TechnoSystems gets past him.
The virus was truly terrifying; you’ll understand more when
you are a parent yourself. It only affected the children, you see. They went to
bed as usual; palm discs glowing like little nightlights while the overnight
downloads began. They were automatic by then you see, we’d pay a monthly fee
and get our downloads automatically at night time. Palm discs were no longer the shiny new
technology they once had been; they were as commonplace as the tin opener by
that point. I suppose, had they been entirely new, we may have gone a different
way completely, had them all removed and gone back to the inefficient data machines of old. But we were
reliant by then, we didn’t know how else to be. My mother told me about it, I
was far too young to remember, but she said she had never actually felt her
blood freeze until that moment, thought it was just an expression. She had gone
to fetch me from my bed when I didn’t respond to her message that I should come
down for breakfast. I was laying there, palm disc glowing red instead of its
usual blue. My eyes were open, but you couldn’t see the irises she said, just a
milky white glowing blue. I was buzzing she told me, like an insect, and I
didn’t respond to her messages, didn’t even respond when she spoke, touched me,
shook me. She ran to get help from the neighbours, and found was the same story
in every house on the street, every street in the town. Every child under 16
frozen in their beds, glowing blue, buzzing.
The adult’s palm discs were fully functioning, except that they would
not connect to the child’s. My mother is a feisty old bird, always was, and she
set off on the march, protesting and demanding help with all the other parents.
The leader came out personally then, to address them. Told them it was a global
problem, that he would fix it.
We were in suspended animation for over 24 hours, and my
earliest memory is my mother sobbing hysterically, pulling me from my bed and
holding me to her. I have that memory saved, I’ll send it to you. I’ve set a
reminder. Of course I couldn’t
understand why she was reacting like that, I had no idea of what had happened
you see. Thought I hd just been asleep. We all did.
After the culprits had been found they were tried for mind
terrorism .oh yes, it was done on purpose. A rival company trying to discredit TechnoSystems
(may they reign forever) . They were easy to catch, after all, every thought
they had ever had was stored on the TechnoSystems database. No need for outdated courts and juries of
course, we had direct links to the thought of the hackers, we knew they were
guilty. They were stripped of their palm discs, and exiled. People say that
they live, out in the world somewhere, that they breed and thrive, but it can’t
be so. How could you survive out there, no disc to tell you how to cook, what
sustenance your body most needs? No disc to sooth you when you are sad, switch
you into sleep when you are weary? It is a story, made up to frighten small
children. You are too old for boogie men now.
We would have still accepted TechnoSystems as the world’s
leaders, of course we would have. But I often think that the virus, awful crime
as it was, helped to get them into power. After the other companies were banned
and disbanded, people soon realised there were no need for governments after
all. TechnoSystems provide all we need
keep the peace, prevent crime. We didn’t need governments anymore. The people
handed over the power to TechnoSystems, and we are all the better for it.
I know you are getting sleepy now my lovely, I can see your
thoughts getting fuzzy round the edges. No, I can send you those memories
tomorrow, I have updated the reminder. Let me upload you a lullaby, my darling.
We can talk again when you have recharged. Don’t worry your pretty head about
viruses, they are a thing of the past. TechnoSystems takes care of us now.
Back in the olden days, way before even my parents were
born, I know it is odd to think of your grandmother having parents but I did, well
back then, they didn’t have palm discs. They had no access to collective
information at all. I mean, they thought their technology was cutting edge,
they really did, but if they wanted to find out something, or speak to someone
that was further away than you are from me now, they had to use a machine. The machines
started off big and clunky, and were attached to the walls of the house with
wires, you couldn’t take them with you anywhere, they were useless really, but
without them we wouldn’t have the advantages we have today. Like the candle
being the forerunner to the electric light, I suppose.
Now the more a person uses something, becomes accustomed to
it, the more they tend to rely on it. It was that way with the forerunner of
the palm disc. The internet, I think they called it. People got fed up I
suppose, having to get to their home or place of work to be able to find out a fact, or listen to a
song, or talk to someone in another part of the world. They began to create smaller and smaller
devices to do the job, tiny versions of their home machines, that ran on
something called battery power, although don’t ask me how that works as I have
no idea. Soon they could speak to people all over the globe, listen to whatever
song they liked, and find out any fact. But it was onerous; to find the exact
thing you wanted took time and patience.
People started to abuse it, use the network to humiliate and bully, to
watch unsavoury things happening to less fortunate people. It turned from a
positive, ground breaking way of drawing people together to a dark underbelly
of illegal and immoral behaviour. You see, there was no one party looking after
us then, every country had its own rules and regulations, but the world as a
whole didn’t, as such. What was acceptable in one culture was unacceptable in
another. Not like now, the internet was a lawless beast, and profited those who
knew how to best use that advantage.
The debate over the use and policing of this internet was
already raging when TechnoSystems (May they reign forever) first floated the
idea of the palm disc. They argued since theft of the mobile devices was
causing such problems within the teenaged community, the safest way to prevent
it was to stop the devices from being able to be physically taken away. There
were rumours that they tested the palm disc first on animals, then on convicts,
do you remember learning about crime and punishment? Before finally floating the product. The
company’s staff members already had the palm discs installed, and could all
give testimonies that the product worked well, that they did not inhibit use of
the hand, and indeed were even friendly to the environment, as they were
recharged by the body’s own electric charge, no need for batteries. That was another hot topic of the day, my
mother told me; we were, after all, a
lot more dependent upon the environment then. We used to go outside almost every
day.
There was no longer any need for tedious searching for that
song whose name you could not recall, for if you hummed a few bars the song
would play, note perfect, directly into your brain, and the details of the
song, composer, writer, singer, instrumentalists would be available to you
(this was before TechnoSystems perfected it of course. The information would
write itself in your brain, and you would have to read it. Things have come
along much further now. Progress).
In the olden days, before TechnoSystems (may they reign
forever), if you wanted a story about a mermaid and a hairpin, you would either
have to search for one or create it yourself. Can you imagine? If you wanted to know what life was like in
other countries, you would have to read about them, find out. I know it is
difficult for you to understand, young one. These words are all from so very
long ago; even I don’t fully understand it. I am just telling you what my
mother told me. But she said that just
wondering was not enough to gain you knowledge. You had to learn. Now of
course, if I want to know what the weather is like in Aberdeen today I know it
is 11 degrees outside with a southerly wind and scattered showers before I even
finish the thought.
Of course some people resisted the idea of the palm disc,
people always do don’t they? And the elite at the time were those that had
spent years gaining knowledge, knowledge of course being power back then, and
they were not happy about the democratization
of learning. People were easier to control when they knew only a little.
But of course, the resisters can’t hold back the tide of progress. Soon every
adult had been fitted with their personal palm disc, older children too.
Different companies started to spring up with their own versions, but
TechnoSystems was by far the most popular, the original always being the best.
They ran a competition, your great grandfather was one of the winners, not that
he knew it at the time, and they gave out 10 000 palm discs to new-born babies.
Of course, now it is as standard as cutting the umbilical cord, but parents
groups at the time were outraged, and your great grandfather’s mother was even
spat at on the street for allowing her baby to be fitted with the disc. People
were convinced that the problems they had had with the internet, most notably
unsuitable images, would transfer to the palm disc, exposing the babies to
terrible peril. TechnoSystems (May they reign forever, of course) protects us,
of course, ensured no such thing could be seen. They studied the 10 000
carefully, and six months after the first trial they announced their findings.
You see, before we had the palm discs, babies could not
communicate at all. All they could do was cry, and the poor parents had to
attempt to extrapolate from the tone of cry, the time and the duration what the
infant’s needs were. All very stressful and time consuming. Now that the babies
were connected, they had merely to think of sustenance and the caregiver would
know immediately to feed them. They had but to feel tired and they would be put
to bed. Their intelligence, when compared to other babies of their age without
a palm disc, was astounding. Whilst non palm babies could not even speak at six
months, palm babies could hold, and sometimes win, entire debates in multiple
languages, sending thoughts directly to the sender. Within weeks of the
findings being released, millions of parents turned up at TechnoSystems offices
around the world, demanding their babies be fitted. The government (the people
who ran the country before TechnoSystems, you remember from your history
download?) were concerned that poorer children may miss out, so TechnoSystems
made the basic fitting free, with apps and downloads costing extra. Demand
surged, and the poorer people who had had badly fitted palm discs applied at
cheaper, imitation companies, clamoured to have their old discs replaced with
shiny new ones by TechnoSystems.
Within maybe three
years of releasing its product, TechnoSystems had a disc in almost every palm
in the world. We used them to communicate, to learn, even to moralise and learn
how to behave. Can you imagine what it was like for people back in those dark
ages, never truly knowing right from wrong? Constantly having to decide for
yourself? Thank goodness we have TechnoSystems to keep us on the right track.
We would be lost without them.
That is of course, the real reason TechnoSystems became the
leaders of the world. Because we need them. Without them we are animals in the
dark, relying purely on ourselves for guidance. Can you imagine the loneliness
people must have felt when they were alone in their heads? Everything else is just circumstances. But
without the virus, TechnoSystems (May they reign forever) may not have ended up
where they are now so quickly.
TechnoSystems had been running for nearly a decade, were
already in a position of power, lobbying the government, richest company in the
world, all of that. So when the virus
struck, they were already positioned to help. I know there are conspiracy
theories, there always are of course, but I know the Leader would not have put
us in any danger, and nothing at TechnoSystems gets past him.
The virus was truly terrifying; you’ll understand more when
you are a parent yourself. It only affected the children, you see. They went to
bed as usual; palm discs glowing like little nightlights while the overnight
downloads began. They were automatic by then you see, we’d pay a monthly fee
and get our downloads automatically at night time. Palm discs were no longer the shiny new
technology they once had been; they were as commonplace as the tin opener by
that point. I suppose, had they been entirely new, we may have gone a different
way completely, had them all removed and gone back to the inefficient data machines of old. But we were
reliant by then, we didn’t know how else to be. My mother told me about it, I
was far too young to remember, but she said she had never actually felt her
blood freeze until that moment, thought it was just an expression. She had gone
to fetch me from my bed when I didn’t respond to her message that I should come
down for breakfast. I was laying there, palm disc glowing red instead of its
usual blue. My eyes were open, but you couldn’t see the irises she said, just a
milky white glowing blue. I was buzzing she told me, like an insect, and I
didn’t respond to her messages, didn’t even respond when she spoke, touched me,
shook me. She ran to get help from the neighbours, and found was the same story
in every house on the street, every street in the town. Every child under 16
frozen in their beds, glowing blue, buzzing.
The adult’s palm discs were fully functioning, except that they would
not connect to the child’s. My mother is a feisty old bird, always was, and she
set off on the march, protesting and demanding help with all the other parents.
The leader came out personally then, to address them. Told them it was a global
problem, that he would fix it.
We were in suspended animation for over 24 hours, and my
earliest memory is my mother sobbing hysterically, pulling me from my bed and
holding me to her. I have that memory saved, I’ll send it to you. I’ve set a
reminder. Of course I couldn’t
understand why she was reacting like that, I had no idea of what had happened
you see. Thought I hd just been asleep. We all did.
After the culprits had been found they were tried for mind
terrorism .oh yes, it was done on purpose. A rival company trying to discredit TechnoSystems
(may they reign forever) . They were easy to catch, after all, every thought
they had ever had was stored on the TechnoSystems database. No need for outdated courts and juries of
course, we had direct links to the thought of the hackers, we knew they were
guilty. They were stripped of their palm discs, and exiled. People say that
they live, out in the world somewhere, that they breed and thrive, but it can’t
be so. How could you survive out there, no disc to tell you how to cook, what
sustenance your body most needs? No disc to sooth you when you are sad, switch
you into sleep when you are weary? It is a story, made up to frighten small
children. You are too old for boogie men now.
We would have still accepted TechnoSystems as the world’s
leaders, of course we would have. But I often think that the virus, awful crime
as it was, helped to get them into power. After the other companies were banned
and disbanded, people soon realised there were no need for governments after
all. TechnoSystems provide all we need
keep the peace, prevent crime. We didn’t need governments anymore. The people
handed over the power to TechnoSystems, and we are all the better for it.
I know you are getting sleepy now my lovely, I can see your
thoughts getting fuzzy round the edges. No, I can send you those memories
tomorrow, I have updated the reminder. Let me upload you a lullaby, my darling.
We can talk again when you have recharged. Don’t worry your pretty head about
viruses, they are a thing of the past. TechnoSystems takes care of us now.
May 8, 2012
Springtime Smiles
Springtime travels from the south of England to the north at
approximately 3.5 miles per hour, a slow walking pace. This has been proved by
scientists and botanists, who take careful measurements of when exactly
daffodils and so on start to appear, and the last frosts have gone, but I know
it to be true because I have seen her.
She dances down the streets, while we are hunched against
the cold and endless rain. Just when we get to the point of believing that winter
will never end, that summer was a dream of a memory and the cold will never end,
that’s when she is seen.
It is usually her sunburst of golden curls that I see first, her floaty floral dress slipping between heavy woollen coats, bare feet
skipping between puddles. The first time
she caught my eye I was stunned, her smile invaded my heart and warmed me from
the outside in. The kind of smile that is highly contagious, that lodges itself
in your face all day and spreads, person to person around the world. At first I
thought it was mere coincidence, that her smile accounted for the changes. For as
she passed me in the street, almost close enough to touch, the sun broke
finally through the mountainous clouds. The air felt warmer, and scents of
springtime floated on the light breeze. People
she had passed before me were carrying their scarves and gloves, wearing bright
smiles. That is what springtime does after all. She brings a song to your heart,
the triumphant return of hope that the light shall return at last, and long
lazy days of summer will be back, if not soon then one day.
I have looked out for her since then. Sometimes she appears
early for her northbound journey. Sometimes just a little late. I fantasise
about falling in step with her, walking at her light-footed pace, taking her
hand and walking to the north,on her eight week journey, seeing where she hides until it is time to walk
the summer back in again. I build myself up each year, tell myself that this
year I will do more than spread her sunshine smile; I will ask her name, or ask
her out. Every year I tell myself that this will be the year that she becomes
mine. But I worry that she will vanish like a soap bubble if I approach, or
else laugh and tell me she is not Springtime at all, but a cashier on the till
in Tesco’s.
