Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Cabin Fevre ~ 8. The Square Root of Zero


It is true that I am now as much tree as I am man.
The charts on which I have thus far recorded my time lie scattered across cabin 13.
It is true that for a time indecipherable to my meat mind I have been unable to scratch further words from the rotten quill, now no more than a hollow stick that lies yet on the warped surface of the captain’s desk.
For am I too no more than a stick?
What use would the green find for my arms, she whose arms reach yet for the sun?
What use for legs, when the chain holds no allure to her?
What use for the gut, source of all pain for the carcass’ erstwhile occupant?
What use for eyes and ears when all can be seen from the interaction of light on chlorophyll.
The Aurora remembers yet its form, albeit distorted by the tree memory of its wooden hull. She is suspended above this dead sea; a trophy for mankind’s’ great and futile deeds
For periods of time my mind has become lost in these labyrinths created by the processes of green life that controls not only my own, long faded form, but also the whole of this useless vessel once rough hewn at the hands of men.
The one process that has not been subjugated by my green mistress is my capacity to think – for what need could the green have for thought other than ornamentation for her own perfection?
‘Tis I then that am as the grit of sand in the oyster’s mouth – for the mind and the properties of chlorophyll conspire yet to allow my thoughts to appear as words on the very walls of cabin 13.

And for you whose perverse courage or profound stupidity allows you to enter the vault of the Aurora; you whose searching brings you here to read these words etched as they are on the already warped bulkheads of Cabin 13; I give you these warnings:
If it be knowledge you seek then be ye forewarned that knowledge can be an empty burden if there be no ear to hear.
For upon ascending the rigorous face of knowledge you will be confronted by the greater demon of understanding – and he will require a much larger portion of your soul.
He will demand that you unpick the very fabric of your clothing, thread by thread, in order that you may then reweave it in a manner clear and enlightened.
He will require that you question the very knowledge upon whose rungs you tread on your ascent.
And finally he will require you to face him squarely and admit that you know nothing other than what you hold in time to be true, second by second your thoughts can only be clutched to your feverish chest in a futile attempt to allay your inevitable demise.
But perhaps, poor traveller, my words on this wood may serve to give you hope; hope that there is some greater existence to which you might aspire.

TERMINUS









13 comments:

subtorp77 said...

Bravo ending! And most engaging picture, above. goes well with this, it does :)

Mariana Soffer said...

You should have been born in the eighteen hundreds, I don t think you belong to the times we are in now.
I like the way you write because it is like from a classical writer but easier to understand to the one that does not speak old english at all.
Knowledge is huge, it can make disasters and marvels. But once you have it, you must consider yourself responsable. It is like freedom, its great to aquire it but then your in charge of the life you live, and responsable for your actions.

Justin Russell said...

I do love your writing Pisces. It provides a tinge of nostalgia for times when I was once young, and the power of prose could lift me bodily from the the mundane.

Keep weaving those threads of iridescent thought stuff. I shall wrap myself up in the rainbow cloth of dreams you make.

Jimmy Bastard said...

What can I add to the 3 comments above me, other than... find a publisher. No if's.. no but's.. find one.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Subby: thanks pal!

Mariana: you make a very good point: personal responsibility is the core from which all morality should stem

Justin: I am happy to provide :) glad you enjoyed.

Jimmy: the process of getting published is a disheartening one, especially since I have no illusions about best-sellerdom - which seems to be all the agents are interested in.

Tom said...

Love the opening of this...great concept that could probably lead to a longer piece of work. Neat-O

Yodood said...

"for a time indecipherable to my meat mind" your words levitated my logy cognizance beyond the grinding gears of carnal fears to comprehend the greenine process without end.

May you never, as well

James Higham said...

Deep rooted?

Harlequin said...

PI-- posted yesterday but it did not make it!!
sigh
I only wanted to echo Jimmy's sentiments; this is amazing work and the metamorphosis you have brought to life is remarkable. Gorgeous and courageous writing.
perhaps you are indeed an ancient traveling incarnate within the now...

Pisces Iscariot said...

Tom: this is, in fact one of the links in my novel "Markov Chain" Another link I serialised as "Out of his Mind" - see sidebar

Yodood: to have levitated your cognizance (logy or otherwise) is indeed an honour

James: Ingrained ;)

Harlequin: Thanks for your words - they will serve as encouragement to continue writing

JeffScape said...

Not sure if this is an error: "She is suspended(?) above this dead sea" - it works stylistically either way, but I figured I'd point it out just in case.

Seriously, this story rocks. The aspects of horror intertwined with commentary are wonderful. Maybe I don't agree with Fevre's conclusions, but they're eloquently and enjoyable presented.

Love the title, love the implied ominousness (is that a word) of the cabin number, love how the progression feels both smooth and staccato at the same time... not really much to openly criticize.

Have you submitted this for publication?

Feel free to reply via email. I don't typically come back to comments after I've left one. That stated, I'll probably check back here.

Again, wonderful read. I'll hit the other "software" up in the near future.

Anonymous said...

Ugh. I think I'm going to go drink some kerosene now!

Pisces Iscariot said...

Anon: be my guest