Wednesday, 4 June 2014

Deus Ex-Machina Chapter Four: Acceptance

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Deus Ex-Machina 
Chapter Four

A   C   C   E   P   T   A   N   C   E

 ‘Perhaps in his jealousy Mr Lime was doing you a favour? In becoming your nemesis he helped you see this world for what it really is?’ - Mr Blue 

    I’m resting in the cold night, my back shunted against the dark concrete beneath a busted cashpoint. Me: Fatigued and dizzy opposite the Camden Underground entrance.

    My whole arse is wet from the snow I’ve collapsed on and I don’t have the strength to deny my new awareness of the world, a dimension of imagination. But I don’t care, I’m too busy losing myself in the people-watching, the constant free-flowing swarm that beeps itself through the station barriers. All over me are numerous punctures and fractures and damage that I cant’t quite shut out. Chatting to the trio helps.

    There’s Mr Blue, his head anyway. He keeps gambling body parts with his brother, the red skinned chap holding him - He Who is Red, his skin - like freshly hacked meat. My usual penchant for distrust is left by the mental wayside now. They've been telling me so much about Mr Lime.

He Who is Red has such an odd speaking voice. That rumbling Scottish monotone,


    'Like Aronson before him, Lime was charged by Spiderfingers to give The Discordians some practice in fighting minions. Long story short is Lime got dangerous, Spiderfingers had to abandon him in a dark world called the Necrosphere. Only gods know the way in or out of that black hell. Of course, in here Lime exists as one of Spiderfingers' memories, a memory driven mad by the truth.'


    ‘The truth?’ I reply.

    ‘The truth being that this world isn't the real one. It's an amalgam of Spiderfingers' and Stephanie Tent's subconscious,’ states Mr Blue, ‘Here, Mr Lime was a proud overseer, a prisoner unconscious of his cage of fiction. And he became aware of his subconscious cage when it merged with Steph's.'

    In one smooth action He Who is Red hunches over to bring Mr Blue’s eyes more level to mine, ‘Without Spiderfingers keeping his feral nature in check, Lime felt compelled to exhibit his insecurity by routinely killing off versions of you. And he did so mercilessly - here - in Steph's subconscious...in that theaterPerhaps in his jealousy Mr Lime was doing you a favour? In becoming your nemesis he helped you see this world for what it really is?’

    And Red points on Blue's behalf at the droves of people milling past us. There they are, another batch of French maybe Italian teenagers. These people who don't realise they're extras, they're exiting the warm world of the Underground for the larger darker one. They join a happy mob watching a drummer provide a beat for a clown, a clown lowering a bar for herself to limbo dance beneath. None of these nonentities acknowledge the big yellow baby who just lies with his back to the flyer-covered concrete, snoring. If this is my new life I miss the relative normalcy of my day to day, where bad guys are for the most part - bad guys. None of this.


    'How do I leave this place?'

    'Through my brothers mouth. I can't guarantee you'll survive the journey though.'

    I look into the snoring mouth of the big yellow baby.

    I don't know why, but I think of Mr Lime's jibe about exposition and I just have to - I'm compelled to ask, 'What use am I in here? What kind of life can I lead if it's nothing but a dream?’

    He Who is Red laughs out loud.

    'Yes, you are a dream. You are the product of something ruthless enough to lie cheat and steal, and to commit itself to psychological self-harm - just to keep you going.'

    I'm feeling dizzy.





    I need He Who is Red to be quiet...



    Need to stop seeing myself on posters and billboards and places I don't think I've been. A secret life mapped out in Courier font...




    Adventures I swear I've not had. Couldn't have. Realms of black and white...
    It's all too much, and He Who is Red, he won't stop jabbering!

    'I don't feel right.' I whimper.


    But Red carries on, 'The batch of tales that led to your existence had a working title of Life Through Fiction. Treasure your life. There is nothing more powerful than a dream.'


    I need to get away.

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