Week 5:The Waves

2 Jan

The checkered pattern of the slabs reflected the light, bouncing into peculiar angles from the straight white walls. The low buzz of the neon lights fluctuated into a sort of electric heartbeat. The corridor was long and each wall mirrored the other, symmetry, shape, reflection, pure geometry woven into the fabric of this reality, right angles, parallels, tangents. Metric footfall, light enough not to make an echo but present enough to engage with the sterile soundscape. Soft green-ish boots with a fine fur trim, neon green stalkings covered by a black skirt, opaque and smooth. The shirt was also black fitted in an almost organic manner, the buttons were also atomic green. She wore her hair short and unkempt, she wore fine rimmed glasses, she wore no jewelery, she wore a discreet perfume of faint musk and traces of amber, she knocked.

Come in” came a low but kind voice.

A professor looking figure, behind a desk, lamplight, a welcoming carpet with pleasant patterns and warm colours. The girl sat lightly on the guiled couch in front of the professor’s desk.

Miss Astrid Hakka, punctual as usual.” Said he without taking his eyes from the papers that were in front of him.

You know sir, I try to avoid the rush hour in the magnetic tubes”

Still being anachronistic with your mode of transportation…Well, I suppose our newfangled contraptions like the Blitzweg are a bit unsettling.” The professor trailed off.

Very much so, said Astrid as she shifted from one side of the couch to another. The professor seamed to take no notice of this and carried on without looking at the girl.

Look at this, the Hezzmett Corp. protests are still clogging up Herrschaftlichstraße”, waving a bemused yet slightly theatrical hand in the air…

Professor, can we get right into it!” Astrid blurted out with the impatience of a drug aficionado faced with pure A fairy dust.

Yes…” Glared the Professor, and in some contrast he gingerly went from behind the desk and placed himself above the girl. He took her head into his hands and pressed it into the leather couch, firm yet gently. Astrid closed her eyes as he produced a slim syringe filled with a playful electric blue liquid. He tapped a series of small buttons on the side of it and observed the crystals inside the fluid rearrange themselves, he paused.

New depth delving index, miss Hakka. You may feel a slight pinch.”

Her hands gripped the rim of the couch as the needle plunged in the base of her neck.

Darkness, void. I am the vacuum of deep space. I am Ein. I have become nothing and nothingness, the great absence of be.

*Miss Hakka… *

… I am the vast plain of the unchanged, the uncreated, the unborn.

*Miss Hakka, serial 02456788, mutterseriellkomplex no. 12.45.46, commence!*

I am a deep flash of brightness, then fading. I am a fading gradient of light giving way to shadows. Things come into focus, the sharp pain of the birth of things. As the blows of shape subside the sweet languor of birth comes. Silence.

*tell me more *

I am a sandy beach, soaked by a restless sea. A sand cut between a steel sky and an unmoving sea. I am cold, my sand is humid, washed by frigid waters, moist with the wetness of unmotion. The chill of non-movement is deep within my very being. I am still, cold, unmoved, emotionless. I trace the steps of the none into my wet sands, and stand testimony of the unchaining tide of the sea. My ripples are undisturbed, my sands are motionless, cold, caught between lackluster observant eyes and an unmoving sea.

*tell me more *

I stand on those very sands, motionless. In awe of what is presented before me. I am myself but I am beside myself. Outside, alien, a mere observer of myself. I catch glimpse and do not judge. Still I stand and do not care to move, undisturbed like the very sands I tread on I am still. I am gripped with a feeling of the immense, caught between a steel sky and the cold and the wetness. The sands are my home, my feet dig into their home and at home they feel as they scrape the cold wetness of the sands.  I am myself, but somehow outside myself, I do not move and in my unmotion I stare into my bleak horizon, unchanged…

*tell me more miss Hakka…. *

I am the very motionless sea. Frozen in movement. Monumental waves not crashing or battering the shore but standing still like cliffs stand. Great monoliths of water towering above the shoreline, forming great rock-faces of elemental wetness, caught in the very act of rising. I am the fear driven waves that pummel against each other and mount upon themselves to from great monuments that defy human logic. Basic geometric shapes, squares and triangles carved out of the the very fabric of liquid substance and foam. Towering behemoths frozen in the act of reach. Towering toward heaven, arrogant and threatening. Their very bricks anxiety and fear, but passive in their undertaking. I am the nameless trespass of such fear and angst as it towers in great Babylonian coherence towards a steel grey sky. The unmoved colossus of the waves does not bend but rears its head proud, rising in huge funnels against the sullen beach. The jagged cliffs and sheer drops of rock-water dominate and threaten the sands and their lonely observer, but only just. For they, the waves, frantic and angry as they might be, they too are motionless, though rooted in fear and anxiety. I am the fearful menhiric waves, monument and temple to the olden Gods. I am the troubled, murky waters, the muddy surf and dirty foam of cold still waves.

*tell me more of suck things, how do the waves feel miss Hakka *

They do not feel, they are. Motionless, towering and all consuming. The mind is but a fragile whisper, a meek echo of translated thought in the great void of the speechless intelligence. Nothing will come from nothing and I am the nothing. Void an vacuum! I have become Sadness the destroyer of worlds, eater of time…

*Miss Hakka…*

I have become the great equalizer, Death, end of motion, the great stop, divine entropy!

*Miss Hakka…*

I am darkness, the nothing that transgresses all shape!

*Anlegestelleprozedur no. 124/335 *

Astrid gasped. The Professor looked unchanged as he extracted the now glowing red fluid from her neck back into the syringe.

This will give us plenty material to work on next week miss Hakka. Plenty indeed.” He said as he proceeded to insert the syringe into a machine next to his desk and file it with an intricate series of codes and passwords.


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