Ancient Of Days on :
I hope I'm not being too critical, but her last batch of dialog feels forced...it doesn't seem as natural as the rest of her dialog has to this point.
Monday, August 22. 2005Macon Craig
Sometimes, it seems so much easier to run away. I knew I shouldn't but . . .
I didn't want to believe Night_Watcher. When you know that people don't like you, it doesn't hurt you to disappoint them. Who cares what they think, anyway? They're just a bunch of idiots. But when those people admire you? Then it's a different story. It's hard to disappoint someone who thinks that you're worth something, especially when they think you're worth more than you are. I jumped. This is the freedom that the environments offer. No lines at a bungie jumping tower. No worries about preparing a parachute for a BASE jump. Just load an environment, add the parachute or the bungie to your equipment, and then jump. Between my art and Night_Watcher's incredible physics engine, we're quite a team. Yes, I know. We wouldn't be anything without Brain_Stem's implants, these little creatures that squirm into our nerves, our brains, and finally, our lives. I just want to forget about him for a while. Something tickled my ear. I didn't mean to go to sleep, but the hot sun, and the cool sand, and the gurgling river . . . I jerked awake, slapping at my ear. I shook my head to clear the ringing; I hadn't meant to hit myself that hard. I laid there, listening to the rush of the river, and waiting for the mosquito to come back. This time, I'd get it. Something blotted out the sun, and I found myself looking up at Rocio's face. She brushed a dark curl out of my eyes. "I like this one," she said, a mischievous grin on her face, "You should be him more often. He's kind of cute." I rolled my eyes. "Here," I extended my hand. "Help me up." She pulled me to my feet, and for a moment, we fumbled with the buckles to my parachute. "Where did you jump from?" We both squinted up into the sun as I pointed upward toward a protuding point at the top of the canyon wall. "That doesn't quite look natural," she said. "Yeah well, when I'm in charge, sometimes I make things the way I want them, instead of the way they should be." "Hmm." She looked at me with a little half-smile on her face. "You know, if you were really in charge, you could just change the rules. That way, the way you wanted things to be would be the way things should be."
I had to think about that. Somehow, what she said made sense, but I had to think through the convoluted logic. Without even thinking about it, I took her hand, and began walking down river. "Where are we going?" "Exploring." "But you know what's down there. You made it." "Yeah, but you don't. You're exploring the river. I'm exploring you." I wasn't sure how to interpret her look, so I splashed onward, staying in the shallows along the riverbank. The canyon opened up; walls that had loomed overhead were half a mile away on either side. The rushing river slowed to wide, swirling shallows. We splashed our way along our serpentine path, stopping every now and then to listen to the call of a bird, or the sibilant whisper of a breeze among the rushes. "I'm not what they think I am," she said. "Who?" Her statement seemed to come from nowhere. "The police. The feds. I work with them. I guess, in some ways, I work for them. But they don't know me." "Who does?" I muttered, under my breath. "What?" "Nothing. Nothing. Sorry I interrupted." "They noticed something, I guess, the day I had to ask for their help." "Their help? What did you need their help for?" "Brain_Stem shot me. I couldn't get my body out. I was trapped. So I called for help." "You were trapped? Whoa. That's weird. How come you were trapped?" "What do you mean?" "I don't know. I just don't see how you could get trapped." "What happens to you when you die in one of these environments? You must have died some time. You guys are always playing with guns." "Well yeah, I die a lot. Especially when I play with Night_Watcher. He could shoot the--well, he's a really good shot." "So what happens when you die?" "Well, we stop feeling things, and we lose our ability to move for a while, and then, we just come back to life." "Oh." "What happens to you?" She didn't answer for a while. When she did, her voice was almost a whisper. "It's not like that." High overhead, a hawk circled, riding on the currents that swirled above the cliff walls. We walked in silence. "They came to rescue me, and I guess they saw something wrong. I don't know what they saw, but a few days later, they were standing in my office. They told me that they'd launched an investigation. They said that they thought I was doing my job improperly." She laughed bitterly. "I wasn't. But there were things that they couldn't find out. I couldn't let them. So I had to come here. I had to beg for Howell's help. I had to find a way to hide from them. If they found out, I'd lose everything. They would kill me, and there would be no one who could rescue me. So now, I am doing my job improperly." I wasn't sure how to reply. I walked forward, mulling over what she had said. She was a fed. She said so herself. Did Howell know? The water felt colder under my feet. I looked around, and realized that we had reached the point where a tributary flowed into the main river. I turned, and began walking up the narrower, colder stream. Soon, we were scrambing over slick boulders, climbing up a narrow slot canyon while the stream jumped from rock to rock, singing as it went. I still didn't know what to think. How far could I trust her? Why was she telling me this? I stood at the edge of a large, quiet pool. At one end, the stream fell on its merry way, its voice incongruous with my mood. At the other end, it was quieter. I knew this pool. Flinging my shirt aside, I dove in. Surfacing, I flipped onto my back, and looked back at her. She stood on the shore, looking after me. "Come on in," I shouted. "It's a little bit cold at first, but once you're numb, it's not too bad." She looked down at her dirty, mudstained t-shirt, and then back at me. "I'm not exactly dressed for swimming." I don't know why I said it, but I fairly spat the words at her. "Your clothes didn't seem to bother you when you were begging Howell for help." This section bothers me, and, as you can see, it bothers Joey, too. I've posted an alternate ending for it. You can see the alternate ending at the bottom of the entry. Let me know which you prefer. Her face went dark. "Oh, I see. You don't care for me. You just can't leave that alone, can you? You don't care that I've never done anything as humiliating as that was. You don't care that at that moment, I was desperately scared, that I knew what death felt like, real death, not some thing, where you just fade out, but the real pain of bullets ripping me apart. You don't care that I was running from that, that men were after me who would make death as painful as possible if they found out who I am. You don't care about that. You just . . . you just don't care." She turned away, shaking with sobs. I should have gone after her. I should have tried to apologize, but instead, I began to fade, and in a soundless shimmer, I disappeared into my own bedroom. Sometimes, it seems so much easier to run away. She shook her head sadly. "You just can't leave that alone, can you?" She took a step toward me, one foot in the water. Tears blurred her words; her voice rose shrilly "Do you know what it feels like to die? Huh? Do you? What's it like, when, when bullets are ripping you apart? You'd run, too. You'd run, and you'd be desperate, and you'd panic, and do stupid things, and . . ." She trailed off. She turned away, shaking with sobs. I hurried toward the shore. As she disappeared behind a large boulder, I heard her voice, "you just . . . just don't care." I should have gone after her. I should have tried to apologize, but instead, I stood there in the water, staring after her, and began to fade. In a soundless shimmer, I disappeared into my own bedroom. Sometimes, it seems so much easier to run away. Trackbacks
Trackback specific URI for this entry
Comments
Display comments as
(Linear | Threaded)
Ancient Of Days on :
I hope I'm not being too critical, but her last batch of dialog feels forced...it doesn't seem as natural as the rest of her dialog has to this point.
Ancient Of Days on :
" Sometimes, it seems so much easier to run away. I knew I shouldn't but . . .
I didn't want to believe Night_Watcher. When you know that people don't like you, it doesn't hurt you to disappoint them. Who cares what they think, anyway? They're just a bunch of idiots. But when those people admire you? Then it's a different story. It's hard to disappoint someone who thinks that you're worth something, especially when they think you're worth more than you are." I'm not quite certain HOW you were able to explain that so well, but it's very very well done. This explains perfectly why I hated Liz Talbot as a teacher: because as long as I hated her, and as long as my behaviour caused her to be angry and upset with me, it didn't matter what she thought of me. When she wasn't being annoyed with me, her disappointment really hurt me...still does, in fact. |
Handy LinksItems of InterestCategoriesBlog AdministrationSyndicate This BlogPowered byTheme dropdownBookmark |