Wednesday, February 8, 2017
It was the brutal hours of the morning, and all was still. In the real world there had been an alert, because it was heard that bombshells would be falling. It was a false alarm, in a way, because in that twilight, where the shadows fall and the dead rise, a dirigible had flown through and ripped apart very near to Gare d'Orsay, as has been told in the last two chapters. On the ground they had surmised that there were other people, and hostile at that. In the air, they already knew that they were dead, and still they were not quite dead. And they were going to use this fact, to do something, something for the side which they didn't know the name of. But still, there was a kind of clarity emerging, because they knew that powers that be controlled than. Which was more than they knew before, and that at least was clarity.
The battle hordes still lie to the East, and more specifically, in Belgium. They were scraping and clawing, with their basis half blown off, or gouges rattling have way down there spine, or some other distorted mangel of flesh. These were controlled by people who looked human, and had neat, precise, perforations that were only visible if you looked very closely. These were the men who ordered people, or rather the sampling half people in to the ditches. In other words they were intact, and they made use of those who were not intact. And slowly they were coming down to Paris, with angry force of a maelstrom.
Here in Paris, you would think he would have been peaceful, but forces denied that luxury. You see, now that there were half people, there was a rush on what looked like to size, to seize the day. Seize the day, that ancient phrase from young English tongue, that year present in both French and English. Many tales, and phrases, leapt as if something unnatural caused them to be in the air. The people who you would think were being prospective, were in fact have mad, have giddy, with all of the urges that they succumb to.
But one, not exactly normal mind, was wrestling to consciousness, I speak of a doll, or perhaps a ragamuffin. You know him as Peternotes, because while he was quite alive, most people, in fact almost all people, would not have noticed him as living, or gifted with any form of intelligence at all. He had been buried, and was trying to dig his way out, which was hard. You don't know how much time it took him to barely scrape his consciousness, and see above the enormous green window which was, from his view, shrouded in mystery. But finally after a full day, he finally could reach the floor and steel away.
What he saw was a deserted house, and he didn't know what to make of it. What he did not know, was that the mistress of the house was dead, and all of the service scattered, as if to the winds.It wasn't as if they had families, because they did not, and it wasn't because they had duties, for all their work was here. It must have been a lust to get a way, as quickly as possible. But even in that objective, day were stymied, and flustered. Each one of them was mindless in his, or her, goings on.
There was no method to their madness, and when they departed, there was no one to say whether they had gone out. What one could say, is as far as possible, what little baggage was carried, though to a great extent, not by the right owners. What was missing, of course, were children, and one who worked for the old landlords was going to take the chance that they would be stuck with a pair of young children, so very carefully, they shut them in the upstairs, and here away. This was unusual in this part of Paris.
When the girl woke up, she knew that all of old people had fled, so she looked around for her mother, who she found stone dead, two or three hours ago. She quickly look up her brother and explained to him what was a bold fact: they were left to their own devices. At this point, be Peternokas , a diminutive form of Peternotes, came round around the corner, having just escaped from the closet, and see to children, and no one else, he surmise that the three of them were all alone.
“Don't tell me, that me guess, the adults have left, and by left I need, a have left us to our own devices.”
“It seems so.” replied the boy, “What are we going to do about it?”
“Seems like they taken all of their belongings.”
“Does indeed, does not.” replied the dwarf, if such he could be called.
“Should we stay, or should he go, that's the first question that has to be answered, I think.” that was was the girl, thinking has usual, on her feet.
The son started to think, and then replied: “Why don't we look out, and see what can be seen.” the new that there were no children that they both knew, since there mother had hidden them from the local police, she didn't have the money.
All three of them looked out the window, while some people were staying indoors, almost as many people were trundling here we to the nearest train station, to board what ever training they could manage, since many of them had relatives.
“Some people are staying, and some people are going.”
“But,” asks Peternotes, “which are we going to be, a plan here would be most highly encouraged? It is a quandary which we should decide now.”
They look out side again, and decided one more day wouldn't be too much to ask. But only just, because every day the Germans were coming closer, and it might be that they would enter Paris has they did in the faded days in 1871.
“This might be one of the last times Paris ...” Began the marionette.
“Do not think of it.” The boy intoned.
“Do you think that it might be true?”
“There is no way to know, it might be true, but not be true, it's the deciding point of the every war. That's definitely either the beginning or the end, and we don't know which.”
“Then there is some way to make a difference.”
“Yes, I suppose there is, because you don't mind me saying, your adults don't have a clue, not even the things that they can see, left alone things they cannot see.”
The boy nodded at this, with the girl looking at her shoes, saying nothing, except perhaps mumbling in agreement. There was general agreement that something needed to be done, but what was it? Three people stared in to the distance, each one of was hoping that someone else would come up with a brilliant flash of light. Which was also equipped to hoping that it would not come to them.
The girl, followed by the boy, looked out over Paris, somewhat dumbly watching as a few people were leaving their homes and gradually sky grayier as this is started to stream upwards to the sky. It was yet a pilgrimage, but it was close, so very close. And they could feel that innumerable other people were, as they were, trapped in a decision, to leave or stay. Each one had points in its favor, after all, there was still a great deal of common among the common man, the poilus, infantry man of fame. Surely there would be at least one push left in this beast, which would snarl even the most brutal German depots. But against this were a small trickle of people who did not believe it, who perhaps could not believe. And they were the for there lives, looking over here shoulders, even though nothing could be the scene in the way of German artillery. Also, it was still a trickle, not a mass exodus, perhaps these few were simply scared out of there wits. To the girl if certainly look as if that was the case, a horde of the worse kind people who had nothing left to live for. That she realized, now that with the absence of their father, this might describe them. And it described the servants, and their mother was dead. She turned away from the side, and wept that her life, as short as it was, was entirely different than what she expected it to be. Tears grew to a torrent on her cheeks, and her face was buried in her brothers stiff necked necktie.
This, in turn stiffen his results to be a man, even though he really was not a man yet. There was something about his sister crying that did something to his soul, though he did not know what you was. Then suddenly there was a glimmer in its spine, which grew stronger with every passing moment.
“Peternotes, you are not human, what do you know about all of the ones such as yourself? You told us that they come out at night. Is this really the case, or are you just making it up?” he had some doubts, because a number of stories did like reading out as true. And he had to be sure, in this one instant.
One may say that he didn't regard his companion as generally the most truthful, even though he won major points for showing himself to children, where as the adults didn't notice him at all. You had to be honest about what defects person had.
Especially when it was not really a person at all.
This, in turn, caught the marionette, because he knew, oh so well, that occasionally he had told a few fibs in his life, and he was sure that he was caught. Even without saying so.
He started to lie, and thought the better of it. Better to start with a clean slate.
“What do you want to know?”
This, in turn, caused the boy in some what of a quandary. He knew about what he wanted to say, but not exactly, and exactly was what was required. But was the girl who spoke, with a determined tone of voice.
“What I think he means, our there more than one you, or are you unique.” she had just learned “ unique” the day, in passing between mother and one of the servants, so she had been itching to use it.
The marionette was clearly uncomfortable, and from the look of him both child guess the truth: he will that he was one of a kind, all alone in the world. That fact, alone, was enough to set him apart. But he spoke, even though both he and the little girl were both in some stage of weeping, The girl was blubbering, while the marionette was somewhat more subdued in his own way.
“There once was a time, along time ago, where there were more of the sort of type of thing like myself, gradually a word taken away leaving only me.”
“When was this?”
“I don't know, if must have been a long time ago, but years is the way that I, or anyone of my type, reckons things as they are. It is just not something we do, only humans do it, I don't know why.”
“So you don't know, but there was once a time, where things were different?” course that was a little girl talking, what gives it away is the lilt about the voice.
“I think it is around the time of Napoleon, because before that name was not used, and then it was everywhere. So it must have been around that time.” he looked over his shoulder at the boy, and saw that there was exactly the kind of sureness that he would like. Then he continued on, as if he did not see the boy at all. “ you see we were all built in about 1790 or so, and afterwards, because there was a revival, where children should children, before that, there were infant, and then they graduated to little adults. Then all of a sudden, care was a between time, which spread through the masses, infecting, as it were, children of station, and then every one had a time of life where they were children. Except of course, the very wretched, who were not taking care of at all.”
The children were listening intently, because these stories were important.
“Was it Napoleon the first, or Napoleon the third. And what ever became of Napoleon the second anyway?”
“It might have been Napoleon the third, now that you mention. There were the older ones who said that this was the beginning of all over again.”
“So, it was probably involving third, several things that you have mentioned point that...” he was flustered, because he wanted a word but could not exactly pick out which one.
Peternotes thought on this a while, and then nodded is head. “ that seems to be right.” if you haven't noticed, he was a great deal less high and mighty then before. He had, in a way, shrank a good deal, as if he were the same, not overbearing in the way he was even just a few minutes before. Something had happened to him, though neither he nor they knew what it was. Certainly he would not know that a change war generally was happening around the world. But that is in fact the case, people were talking different, because before if for a sample you read the young Nietzsche you would be in a thicket, but reading the elder Nietzsche, the line was totally different. It was spare, and clean, and tidy, and all things that the younger Nietzsche was not. Or Freud. Or any one of the crowd that came of age writing densely, and then cleaned up their work so as to communicate with a different sort of person. Books were, different, because they reached for more numbers of people. And while they did not have so many, it was better then to have just a Bible, and nothing more.
“I think that is the case, I was made just before Napoleon the third, and heard about the First, though I don't know if they had actually known it. I think not, because they didn't reference him, but they did reference Bismarck, who was terrible in his apparition, absolutely terrible.”
Again both children haven't, if you have not guessed, both of the children were exactly the same age, twins, though of course fraternal, and not identical. So they both nodded at the same time, and did other things, but there was not the unique pattern that identical twins would have.
The girl had been thinking, long the boy, and Peternotes, in the main, were talking. But she had an idea, and blurted it out.
“Let us see what is left behind, and then when night crawls up, we can see if there are any things such as Peternotes that were left behind.” But they did not realize that the Cat was pointing at something. This was not the first time that there attention was drawn elsewhere.
And so that is what they did, from pickles, to all sorts of things, they realized that the adults had not done a very good job. So for the three of them, there were at least a week worth of food, perhaps longer, though there was no milk, just juice. But they had powdered milk, which would last long time. They didn't know it, but they were between the ghostly side of Paris, and the human side of Paris. One of the things that mattered to this, was that there was food, in abundance, here.
Though the little girl and little boy would not know it, there doll would be on a another mission, because that was his job: to seek out and find people who were in distress, and lead them back to the positive side of the ledger. Of course that meant he had a duplicate, which aimed for quite the other direction.
Serial Killers Should Fear This Algorithm - Bloomberg
Somebody crack it.
Somebody crack it.