Rip It Up

As a wise man once said: break’s over. Time to get back to work.

whole

On my way back from Blood Donation #6 this morning [four more and I GET A BADGE] the entire plan for January’s Short Story got thrown in the furnace. Instead, we have a NEW PLAN and, in even more SHOCK NEWS, the luxury of a cushion of content at the get-go. I do love scheduling things, but that largely involves having the ideas ready to roll. This time, WE DO. This is, quite frankly, unbelievable scenes.

MEH

It’s not just this stuff that’s raring to go either. The reason why EX/WHI‘s not on the site either (but should be tomorrow) is that late last week, an opportunity presented itself to take all the sad, rejected poetry from this year (of which there is a fair amount) and reinvent it as a collection. How could I refuse? Add to that the best of my online output for the year (I checked, they’ll accept work that has been published online but that isn’t part of a collection) and BOOM there was a lovely flurry of very productive activity.

Quite a few things were ‘refreshed’ from the ground up, whilst a couple simply got cut and pasted into the .PDF. It was a particularly good exercise in knowing what works with my poetry, and being brutal over what used to be good and is absolutely no longer the case. Oh, and for a contest that closes tomorrow, there’s a new poem too: the chances of that winning its particular prize are astronomically tiny. In fact, should even get a mention in dispatches, I’ll eat a snood.

I don’t have time to chat, there’s still far too much to do here. If I can truly get on top of this as the New Year rolls in, there’s a good chance to feel suitably invincible for several weeks.

That’s something worth making an effort for…

EX/WHI :: Part Eighteen

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She dreams of their child, created by aliens.

Foetus grows in an opaque, circular space, suspended mid-air, culmination of this bizarre experiment. A child is ‘born’ from her egg and Chris’ sperm, no worries in subconscious that part of this equation is impossible to complete. Unseen beings are not bound by the same rules as the humans that have now become their scientific research: theatre show to be watched, characters manipulated.

Ami comprehends without doubt that this will be her child, created as nature intended.

The presence inside subconscious is risking a fair deal by
confirming possibility as fact.

For millennia their kind have returned to Earth, caretakers of humanity’s fledgling intelligence. Each time the dominant population appeared capable of causing major damage to surrounding ecosystems, an intervention had resulted: reason why they had now returned. Her planet was at a tipping point, moment when decisions must be made: is this iteration of humanity worthy of continued, unrestricted ransacking of resources, or is it time for an inevitable reckoning?

The presence in Ami’s head offers stories grasped as previous truth: Atlantis washed away, Egyptians sandblasted out of history, Pompeii buried to prevent evil that would have risen and altered history… but then finds herself compelled to respond subconsciously with images of Auschwitz, Baghdad… New York’s Twin Towers. How were your interventions so important and yet these other horrors allowed as acceptable? She expects no response and when one comes, its dispassionate commentary is not nearly as surprising as expected.

The significance of particular events alters when viewed from a distance.

If linear time is only her prison and not theirs, a wider overview would pinpoint exact moments for interference, consequences were it not to take place. However, possibilities from this moment must be infinite: how could others arbitrarily make decisions in this fashion? The being in her head remains silent, undoubted uncertainty generated in the space where they sit. Dream imagery fades until all that is left is warmth and comfort, reassurance provided for a reason.

Keep acting on instinct, remain yourself. This strength will see you through.

There is a version of her future, tantalisingly placed just beyond Ami’s reach, echo of what could be should they succeed in these tests. This is a game, after a fashion, means by which the rest of the planet would be judged. Scenarios require thoroughly completion with no room for error or fear. This is the job she is now charged with; prize is not simply her life, returned better than it was.

The alternative, also offered without comment, is as chilling as it is now fully believable. Should she fail, her World will have humanity wiped from it. Everything else would remain: plants, animals, all natural wonders and even geological uncertainty would continue untouched and vibrant. Her brethren, wilfully destroying existence, completely eradicated in a breath as anything related to mankind’s influence was irrevocably eliminated.

The taint of pollution, global warming, globalisation, deforestation… all would cease to exist: planet left as it had been before the first apes evolved, stumbling out of their caves. This can still happen, unless she sacrifices everything. If Ami is prepared to give her life to ensure that future does not come to pass, so much more will be possible.

She must die, allowing planet to survive.


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EX/WHI Update

This is a quick message to those of you wondering if you’ll see EX/WHI again this year. The answer is YES, but I’m still in the process of building a buffer of pages to get us back to self sufficiency. That will be done by the 14th of December, and that’s when you can expect to see the story return.

EX%2FWHI redo.png

There’s also been this rather lovely reboot of the art for the series, which will be applied to all previously-published episodes as part of the general site redesign in progress.

We’ll see you in a couple of weeks.

EX/WHI :: Part Seventeen

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His intelligence is impressive: able to translate her notes into a truth that now galvanises them both. The memory before Chris’ demise is of the Embankment, and afterwards of Big Ben, which does not necessarily assume they’ll visit the locations in that order whilst logically heading west. It is just as likely they’d strike east first… and now she’s stopped being upright and is on the camp bed, Chris’ arm around her waist, gently settling her down.

‘What just happened?’

‘You are exhausted, and I knew you were going to zone out, before needing to sit down. So, I came and caught you.’

‘How did I -’

‘You just told me without talking, and I’m a good boy, I do as I’m told. I’m also sorry that I got mad at you touching me, which ended up with all of this extra stress. It was just emotional panic which has very much passed; I don’t want us -’

‘I know, it’s okay. I totally understand. You are without doubt one of the most decent people I have ever met. I know I’m in safe hands…’

Her entire body suddenly aches with depth of fatigue that could only be remembered from basic training, when they’d run her into the floor for a month. In his care, there is a complete and all-encompassing calm, the reason for which is now hugely apparent. He won’t take advantage, ever. He needs Ami sharp and focused, this is about something bigger than them. He’s living the job in a manner that’s never existed before, and because of that something has altered inside. The guilt and fear of previous failure is beginning to evaporate. If these are to be his last days alive, living them well and fearlessly suddenly became a very important priority.

Her Doc Martins are off and he’s removing her fatigue jacket, patient suddenly in his care. As she settles down on the suddenly incredibly comfortable bed, he’s placed pillow behind her head, blanket across chest. Past and future are swirling around them both, possibilities that were imagined as kids and only dreamed of in adulthood. If this is a test, and they are being assessed, that might mean they can return back to reality, their home, largely unscathed… though neither will ever be the same again.

That’s not a problem either.

‘While I’m asleep -’

‘I fill in the blanks. I try and work out how to describe what it felt like to have an alien in my head. I make sure you’re okay, and maybe I pluck up the courage to ask for something more substantive than combat rations because I am beyond starving.’

‘I could murder a curry right now…’

‘I’m betting you’re a Jalfrezi girl, would I be right?’

‘Yes please, peshwari naan and all the other stuff-’

‘Leave it with me, I’ll wake you when I’m done. Sleep well.’


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EX/WHI :: Part Sixteen

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The suitability of this match has already exceeded expectations.


Watching him work, Ami begins to understand just how complex a relationship she’s been inserted into, that their captors have considered long and hard exactly who from humanity would be abducted. Her initial assumption for their removal was simple: pick any man and woman because it wouldn’t matter, breeding or reproduction could be undertaken with anyone. This is a more subtle equation: her inability to reproduce, on reflection, should have dispensed with that idea far earlier, but there’d been a lot to take in first.

Chris’ tongue sticks out of his mouth, held between teeth as he concentrates, filling in gaps that now conclusively prove that the moment he’d been touched, all manner of random similarities and connections had been highlighted. Both of them were considering retirement after the court case, neither happy or satisfied any more with the jobs that had once meant everything. There is disappointment at the state of the World, workplace’s lack of empathy and general disapproval of management’s role in destroying their working environment.

As further depth is dutifully added to the timeline, there’s none of the resentment that other male colleagues showed at her industry, lack of anger that she’d been unable to stop him from ‘dying’ despite knowing it was going to happen. This isn’t assumption either, those emotions are clearly defined in her head, constants flowing from one person to another. Somehow, they are connected in a manner that cannot be seen: is this an intentional part of their abduction process or simply a happy accident?

There were two more moments viewed in the simulation that had appeared in her mind, echoes of past which might yet be future, which had been of far more clarity until mind had been invaded and dream removed… no, erased, because that’s how these images now present themselves. The entity had taken away intensity and details, but essence still remained untouched. He’s staring at her conclusions on this now, clearly perplexed at something –

‘So, there’s stuff from your dream you still remember, and based on what happened to me you’re assuming it could be from our future…?’

‘There was a voice in my head, before you touched the pillar. Linear time is your anchor. It is not ours. I dreamt that happen, the night before, but there was no way to connect past and present. Except, now -’

‘It’s not either, so it’s logical to assume that those moments have yet to happen. I get this, the ape brain understands, so what this becomes is Intel for us as to what we do next, yes?’

‘It seems logical.’

‘I’m also going to assume that they know how tired you clearly are and that now I don’t need to sleep you can, and I’ll stand guard, and whatever now counts for morning in this place is when we start again with these clues, because that’s what they are. There are two places you know we go to, except there’s no idea whether your order is right or wrong…. that’s the point here, yes?’


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EX/WHI :: Part Thirteen

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Chris is awake, bolt upright from cold, wet grass, looking around in terror, pretty sure that he was dead about thirty seconds earlier.
This will be the second time his heart has stopped whilst in active service: considering where the last one took place, it is considerably less stressful to be alive here trapped in an alien simulation. He looks for Ami: she’s standing, staring at him with a mix of relief and trepidation before moving his side, checking pulse, as body is gently pushed back to fully horizontal.

This time, there is no objection to her actions: on reflection, lying down’s no bad idea.

‘Because I am a stickler for protocol I’m gonna ask you some questions to check for brain damage. Name and Social Security number, please.’

‘I believe I still am Mark Donald Chambers, 075-26-1431 and I was dead, right?’

‘Very much so and I know as a result your heart’s gonna want some time to recover quite apart from whatever else was rearranged in your body. What’s today’s date?’

‘Friday, June 15th 2018 and you need to explain what just happened.’

‘I will but not yet, not until I’m sure we’re not being eavesdropped on.’

‘You know we are now?’

The nod is almost imperceptible: back at the pillar, his partner wasn’t losing the plot, something happened she couldn’t explain. If he hadn’t reacted so strongly to that touch –

‘No more questions, try and relax.’

‘Aren’t you gonna ask me who’s the joke for a President is right now?’

‘At least you don’t have Brexit to worry about. Be grateful for small mercies.’

A backpack is somehow behind his head and Ami’s fatigue jacket across aching chest as suddenly, Chris is shivering uncontrollably: shock. Almost instantaneously air agitates, now familiar movement as reaction to his condition: a low camp bed materialises to their left, something he’d use in combat training along with blankets and a stainless steel canteen. About to try to get up, a sensation of weightlessness negates any effort and he’s literally floating off the ground, moved from concrete to canvas without ceremony. The blankets float up, down to cover his form, jacket gently placed back into Ami’s lap.

Chambers won’t say another word until prompted: Bishop knows they’re being watched, possesses a ton of intel it’s currently impossible to communicate and he is best serving them both lying here, being a good patient. None of this phases any more, their hosts owning total dominance not only of life and death but the laws of physics, yet Chris just wants to sleep for a week. The thought is acknowledged within subconscious by someone out of his field of vision, and this is no longer psychic sensations. Whoever it was who communicated with Ami in her head before he died also understands the need for immediate recovery.

‘I will provide induced unconsciousness to allow cellular regeneration to complete. When you wake, there will be opportunity to communicate with your partner unhindered.’

Chambers is satisfied because they are being referred to as partners and not subjects there is no danger, right before losing consciousness for the third time that day.


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EX/WHI :: Part Twelve

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This is a dream, same one from last night as time itself shifts slightly off centre, out of focus. Her memory is of what is now happening: not deja vu, but something more fluid, insubstantial yet holding cast iron appearance of reality. Ami’s whole body hurts simultaneously: heavy-limbed and tight-necked, pressure at back of skull which is something unnatural, intrusive, trying to pull everything apart.

Understanding dawns: there’s someone inside her head that shouldn’t be. Instantaneously last night’s dream has been removed, almost yanked from brain by force, yet faint echoes remain. Her desperate whisper, Chris’ scream wasn’t imagined but real, before comprehension blossoms. The future which already happened, yet in the here and now has yet to take place… you saw it. Last night, you existed in the present and future simultaneously.

‘Linear time is your anchor. It is not ours.’

She should be frightened, pleading at Chris whilst he unknowingly backs too close to the pillar but if he’s rescued, everything changes. This is hard work to comprehend, could be considered as intrusion because the being now co-habiting her mind didn’t ask for permission to enter, but they are communicating, her and it. The alien’s happiness at her lack of fear is tempered with seriousness: her observations have all been totally correct. This is a test, all of what happens an experiment, but there is a problem. Something only now has been grasped about her unique genetics, and as a result intervention is essential.

This presence isn’t running the experiment either: they’re an underling, part of a team, and it is important that the WHI understands this. She must let time exist as it does, as it is seen and felt by her kind, or else there will be attention drawn to alteration of chronology.

‘You must trust these choices: if the EX or WHI are damaged, they will be repaired.’

The pleading look on Chambers’ face finally pulls Ami back to what remains their joint present.

‘Why shouldn’t I step back?’

‘Chris, please… I think I know what’s going on… my head -’

‘I can’t have you lose it now, you have to stay with me.’

‘I’m here but not alone, you don’t understand -’

‘You’re absolutely right, I’m here and there is nothing here to be afraid of -’

Ami knows what’s coming but won’t stop her hand, moving to his shoulder, attempt to pull man away except he doesn’t want to be handled, suddenly angry that she should do this. As the sun goes down in a couple of hours he’ll apologise, explaining how thought had been given to not touching her for reassurance because it showed respect of personal space. For that future to happen, he has to wrench himself from her support and stumble back into the light…

Everything slows as it did back in the coffee shop, and as Chris brushes one of three time portals in the Experiment there is noise and light unlike anything else Ami has ever experienced, and she’s nowhere, body and brain finally separated. The Dark encloses and protects, and she is safe.

‘These areas are dangerous.’

There’s a new voice in her head, warm and calm, distinct and separate to that which existed previously, which no longer exists.

‘You must avoid contact with the portal as it is fatal. Both EX and WHI must be preserved until observations are complete. Reanimation will commence shortly.’

As everything reconnects, Ami’s feet are no longer on concrete but grass. They’ve been shifted from where the Hotel stood, relocated to what she knows is Trinity Square Gardens, in the shadow of Tower Hill. It’s a long second later before the lifeless, charred body of Chris appears out of nowhere before falling to the ground, heap of burnt flesh and cloth. All Bishop can do is stare in stunned amazement as the air moves across an obvious corpse, same way as had been the case with the coffee bar table, literally rebuilding her impromptu partner back to existence.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, both movement and presence are gone.


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