Flashbacks
In 1998, we sat in the dying evening. The pale fluorescent candles flickered on, lighting the cavern of the empty school. We were young men. The aging sorcerer, himself a protegé of the ancient Gnome, had asked us to do something new. What if, he asked, you could teach anything you wanted? What if, he continued, you could have four years to change the system of the world?
We looked at the white streak in his hair, now a black streak in the white. We could almost see the chessmen moving across the landscape of his mind. Why did he ask us, two young men in an old men's dream? It was then, in the cold summer of 1998, that we began the fateful journey which would lead us to this day.
Our first papers were tiny pickings. Four years is not much time. We planned to capture our students at the height of their adolescence, to widen their horizons and show them the many worlds. The words came unbidden. No birds were sacrificed for the auspices of a better age. Neither were the prayers of the mouth made, their fragrance rising into the upper air to do the works of God.
The heart was the key. My friend was a ruthless pragmatist (he claimed). He said I was too much the idealist, too good a man. I demurred. We were both mortal, but our plans were elevated by what seemed to be the burning fire of the spirit. For three years we toiled with our equally-dedicated friends and fellows. Two years after that the fellowship finally collapsed. It had been riven asunder by the weight of the cold black iron of the times.
And of the original commissioning, of my fellow journeymen? We are sundered indeed. We will never come back together again, to work on a Great Work such as this. In each of our little worlds, we could try again to forge the rings of power, but we would fail, as indeed we should. The lesson to be learnt is the lesson of Troy, of Camelot and of the Paladins — where the Great Work is inspired, it must be destroyed. Else how will the birds scatter its crumbs to the starving world?
We looked at the white streak in his hair, now a black streak in the white. We could almost see the chessmen moving across the landscape of his mind. Why did he ask us, two young men in an old men's dream? It was then, in the cold summer of 1998, that we began the fateful journey which would lead us to this day.
Our first papers were tiny pickings. Four years is not much time. We planned to capture our students at the height of their adolescence, to widen their horizons and show them the many worlds. The words came unbidden. No birds were sacrificed for the auspices of a better age. Neither were the prayers of the mouth made, their fragrance rising into the upper air to do the works of God.
The heart was the key. My friend was a ruthless pragmatist (he claimed). He said I was too much the idealist, too good a man. I demurred. We were both mortal, but our plans were elevated by what seemed to be the burning fire of the spirit. For three years we toiled with our equally-dedicated friends and fellows. Two years after that the fellowship finally collapsed. It had been riven asunder by the weight of the cold black iron of the times.
And of the original commissioning, of my fellow journeymen? We are sundered indeed. We will never come back together again, to work on a Great Work such as this. In each of our little worlds, we could try again to forge the rings of power, but we would fail, as indeed we should. The lesson to be learnt is the lesson of Troy, of Camelot and of the Paladins — where the Great Work is inspired, it must be destroyed. Else how will the birds scatter its crumbs to the starving world?
etched with acid at 5:16:00 am
3 Comments:
Nice story, as are all your stories.. But yet, what great works have survived? What great works can be created, if circumstances are right? What about the French Revolutions? The October Revolution? End of Colonisation? Imagine, these are all examples of normal human beings, coming together as one, and trying to make a difference. What happens if a group of selected ones were to come together to create a Great Work?
Imagine if this envelope or field of say, electricity, or imagine a magnetic force enclosing all the ones who are connected and in tune with each other. Their energies combined may just join and create a greater force than what each individual can acheive.
Perhaps this sounds slightly ridiculous. But imagine the possibilities. There are to many Unsolved History in the world, that we know of. Off the top of my head, there's the Prymiads, the Easter Island statues, the Bermuda Triangle, Stonehenge.. Bermuda Triangle might be a slightly different case, but still.
If you are familiar with Wicca (I'm not, I've just browsed a book on it), you'd know that they employ these tools. The circle, mirrors and all that stuff. I don't think that it is entirely baseless, but as is all religon, is used to control to a certain extent, and has definitely got "impure" stuff added on.
I'm sorry if no one wants to read this stuff. Just tell me, ok? And I won't post.
You're absolutely right. All Great Works survive their makers, transcend their makers. But like Ozymandias, neither the Work nor the Maker survives - although the echoes of the Making might resonate down the ages.
Eh. So now can help me already lah. Please, pretty please? Then I don't need to study so hard to know. Very back-breaking you know. Sit on the chair all day. =P
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