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chapter_1 [2009/12/11 17:35] (current)
doan created
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 +Gyiiyg Gynoug opened his eyes, blinked, stretched and wrapped his tail around him.
 +
 +Verbal communication was mostly obsolete among his species. Their psychic abilities were so strongly attuned that they could quite easily maintain a constant telepathic conversation. Other methods of communication were considered primitive to the point of barbarism, the cardinal sin. The very young, however, who could not yet communicate properly because their brains were not yet developed enough, needed a way to speak too, as did those attempting to communicate with animals who could not receive telepathic signals, or who were working in a null-telepathy environment for some reason, such as developing military technology to nullify the telepathy of enemy combatants. Most of all, it was purely instinct – no matter how highly evolved his species was, they were flesh and blood, they still remember what they had evolved from, they still felt the urge to fight and feast and mate. They still had their natural reflexes. Ninety per cent of Gyiiyg's non-verbal communication involved his tail. It was long, spindly and leathery, a pale blue that was almost white. Flexible and strong despite its thinness, it could convey thousands of subtle emotions with a series of swishes and flicks. It was useful for holding people while he slowly crushed them to death with a telekinetic field as well. As he sat cradled in the cocoon-like seat of his ship, red and blue wires connecting him intravenously to the life support systems -  long haul space flight, while perfectly functional and reliable, still put a huge strain upon the body that would kill a pilot without mechanical assistance, and Gyiiyg was not strong to begin with – his tail wrapped tightly around him, his jet-black eyes blinking reflexively as his gaunt feline pale-blue face darted from side to side, he revealed his need for protection, that he was on the defensive in this moment of overpowering confusion. Carefully controlled confusion – never panic, never again – a confusion that would remain passive until he had the situation under control again.
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 +Had he three tails, he would not be able to convey the appropriate emotions to react to the situation he was in.
 +
 +He had just woken up from twenty five thousand billion years of total insanity. Insanity beyond the boundaries of his mind, his body, his identity, a screaming quantum non-locality in which every possible Universe was an atom that made up the being that was his madness. A madness that had broken through the boundaries of space, time, causality, maybe even narrative necessity itself, to see the Universe in its whole, glaring, compressed, pre-compiled truth. And the evil. The pure, untainted evil creeping slowly into his every subatomic particle, so that he too was nothing but pure evil.
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 +The red. The unending, twisting waves of red. His own face, his own music in the orchestra of life, his entire being, twisting and distorting before him.
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 +With a two-tone psychic scream, he aimed an omega-level Brainshock at himself. His entire body convulsed so violently that his left arm was entirely wrenched free of the wires, and blood trickled out of his mouth. The memory was gone. It was a mercy that he could not remember most of what he had been. An outsider to it now, he could no longer comprehend its form. He needed to remember even less. The less he remembered, the better he could function.
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 +Memories were not useful. He knew enough already. The basic facts were enough: what had happened, why it had happened and what had to be done about it.
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 +He wasn't well enough to move yet. Five minutes ago, he had not been able to think, maybe unable even to exist.  Impatient though he was – his tail wanted to thump violently against the edge of his seat, but he did not have the space or the energy to move it – he  contented himself with watching the display terminals of his life-support systems, the red and blue dials rising and falling, a steady pulse. The red dial was his life energy, the blue dial was his psychic energy. His life signs were low but his psychic energy was almost fully powered already. The steady, reassuring cadence of the peaks and troughs of his biorhythm calmed him a little. His eyelids wavered.
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 +He fought against the urge to sleep. What if this freedom was just a dream and he was about to wake up? Any child of his species knew how to make a dream lucid, how to fight off the inevitable waking for as long as possible. It was not unknown for the most powerful psychics to control their dreams to such an extent that they could remain asleep and dreaming indefinitely. None had yet returned to tell the tale – they invariably chose to remain asleep forever. They were usually the eldest, at the end of their lifespans anyway, child prodigies without the discipline to understand that their actions would lead to their death, or artists so extremely ascetic, so essentially paragons of Gyiiyg's race, that they completely eschewed the physical world that held them back. Gyiiyg's close friends had joked about him being number 3 candidate in a list of Top 10 People Most Likely To Be Next. Better to face that fate than the alternative.
 +
 +But he was so tired. So very weary...
 +
 +Her voice called out to him the minute his eyes closed.
 
chapter_1.txt · Last modified: 2009/12/11 17:35 by doan
 
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