Rifts in the Stream II; tincture, the first (an excerpt from Crow’s journal)

 I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free. 

Michelangelo

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I hear the call — a resonance; like the faint, echoed peal of a bell — and swim through space and time, through motes of luminous perfume and between diaphanous, white rose petals. My skin is radiant, my mind calm and deliberate.

I free them, one at a time; a gift of wings, a means of blissful escape.

Only two remain: the most virtuous and beautiful of the fallen. I meant for her to be the last; she would have facilitated his transformation, eased his anxiety and guided him. Unfortunately, he will pass alone.

She studies the empty vessels on the floor and, when she hears the shuffle of my feet, she turns her head slowly and peers at me through innocence; her pupils dilate and I shoot as she turns to run. She lurches, but continues out the door and I lose her in the twisting hallways. She is fast, but I find her again as she escapes, with him, into the outside world. I shoot and shoot at her retreating form until her mortal body collapses, finally in peace; and, as her angelic essence soars away, she flutters a wing at me in thanks.

The last one runs away into the distance. Regrettable. He is almost as dangerous as she would have been. But now is not the time to silence him; the authorities of this realm will soon arrive. I ease into a crease: back to the world I know best; from there I can wait, and watch.

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Rift in the Stream I; prelude

I’m Kurt Lambda.

Dalia doesn’t know I’m writing this; it is my one secret. I think my story is important, but she thinks I should stay off-the-grid.

This is an attempt to transcribe some salient details of my life.

Dr. Jhertzen once told me that perceptions skew reality and memories create a fantasy-world that incorporates portions of the truth, but our minds modify events to more closely resemble how we would have liked the events to have occurred, thereby placing us in a more exalted milieu.

(Dr. Jhertzen lied about a great many things, but I don’t think that was one of them)

My crèche was more varied than most — at least that’s what I gather from talking to others (mainly Jessie, a Beta, and the most altruistic being I’ve ever met). We had members of most groups from Beta to Mu. I was the only Lambda; apparently, we were almost as fragile as the Alpha constructs.

We were raised in a sterile, controlled environment, and the outside world was a frightening experience when I first escaped into it.

I was sure the yawning heavens would suck me into the blue oblivion and I thought the swaying trees and burgeoning traffic were monsters, and the noises of the city were shrieks, groans, howls, and digestive rumblings. I was frozen with fear, but Jessie’s conviction pushed me with the strength of love.

After reviewing what I’ve written, I realize I’ve gotten too muddled; conversely, I’ve mentioned enough to convey what I’d hoped. A fair start, all things considered.

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