Archive for October, 2010
Oxadrenals choosing Francine as his scientist and Menniss as his bounty hunter.
Francine choosing to create the second virus.
And the Eldest choosing to extend her protection to the one person in these narratives who entered accidentally. — SB & KT, writing for Francine
In these two updates, we first step back in time to the period of Francine’s manic episode. Having had time to interview her, we can now fill in some important details that the cameras and microphones didn’t show. Then we return to the moment in the Safe Room when Mennis heard Francine calling to him.
As several readers guessed in advance, the Illuminati will find an unexpectedly cunning adversary in this seemingly straightforward woman. Whether she is David with a slingshot or Ulysses tricking the gods, she is a power to be reckoned with. — SB & KT, writing for Francine
Because it is now safe to do so, we have added back some detail previously suppressed about how and where Menniss built his safe room. This information is gathered in a page titled “Safe Room,” and can be found as a link off of the page titled “Gunfire.”
We will also soon publish, in the form of a flashback, Francine’s recollections of what happened during her manic episode. It contains important information.
Currently, there are three updates posted, as shown below. We are writing as quickly as we can. — SB & KT
The expected invasion of the Underground is now beginning. Oxadrenals has requested that his own author privileges be revoked. Richard Menniss will take over narration via the two safely hidden ghostwriters assigned to him. Please expect approximately a 12 – 18 hour delay before the first installment appears, in order to allow for prudent time shifting.
Oxadrenals wishes me to add: “All is not lost.” — ObservingAll
This is the final installment of the Asclepion,written by two of my ghostwriters, “SB” and “KT.” They put it in first person, but it’s actually made up out of what the camera and microphones showed them.
ObservingAll will shortly make an announcement that shows how well I sing the froid. (gulp) — Ox
OK, what Kate wrote in her comment got me thinking. She’s right. This really might be too much for Francine.
Not sure what to do. — Janice
The latest update by Janice is so intensely beautiful I’m reproducing most of it here:
Rembrandt’s paintings don’t just show faces. They bring out what’s behind the face; they show thoughts and feelings; they show souls. Other painters do that too, but I think Rembrandt’s the best, especially for old people. And Leyla was really, really old. She had big white cataracts across both eyes and swollen legs and blue lips, but the main thing was the wrinkles. Like when they put an old Native American on the cover of National Geographic and all you can do is stare at the wrinkles and see stories? Leyla had lived three and a half thousand years, give or take, and her wrinkles were Grand Canyon deep with stories. So deep you could go backpacking in them. (more…)
FYI, The Asclepion is almost real time now. Live blogging immortality!
In case bad stuff happens, I got two writers stashed away safe, and they’ll keep writing (maybe working with raw stuff from Menniss or even Francine.)
Why am I so sanguine about the bad stuff? Why don’t I freak like Menniss did? Because of two reasons, one big one and the other one pretty big too.
And two other reasons.
Reason # 3: I just don’t freak. A little Ox apologia here:
We live in a world where critters eat each other alive. All the time. Foxes do it. Birds do it. (Bees don’t do it so much, but they’re an exception. Actually, most bees don’t do the other thing either.)
The other day, I watched a horse rip a dandelion from the ground and even though there wasn’t very much blood I thought: Yi, yi, it’s a tough world. And that’s not even getting into what bacteria do, the little monsters.
Also, horribly sad stuff happens, if not to you than to other people. So you have to find a way to deal.
My solution: be Oxadrenals.
(What’s your solution? Even if you haven’t personally outlived your children, I can guarantee pretty much every second it’s happening to someone in the world. Don’t they count? Is it just their problem?)
Reason # 4 The people I have workingdown here are creative, unpredictable and half crazy. Like me. Not a single solid, studious type.
Which makes it hard for the Illuminati. They’re too organized, thoughtful and sane to figure us out. We don’t throw straight punches. Everything we do comes at em like a left hook from nowhere. — Ox
Actually, he wrote most of Narrative 4 too and his parts of Narrative 6, only he didn’t know he was writing a narrative. You see, he got in a confessing mood after he realized what a major creep he’d been, and I let him confess everything to me. In writing. And then I posted it.
(Didn’t tell him about the posting. Oops.)
Anyway, he’s a colorful writer, if a bit black and white. And depressing as heck. — Ox
The world of mortals carries the choice. Or rather, shall make the choice, and in only one way. For if you stop it here, which you can do, they shall reach it elsewhere.
They’re learning to regrow organs, Eldest, and to construct machines in lieu of organs. They are reading this DNA and will in time understand the words themselves.
Whether today or in ten centuries, all at once or in fits and starts, mortals shall bring an end to death. Whether curse or blessing, it shall come as mere fact.
As mere fact, Eldest.
Mortals have the desire, and they shall soon have the power; they will learn to live forever and, regardless of philosophy, they will in the end choose to do so.
And The Eldest agreed. — Ox
Since, amazingly, I’m still around, we’re starting the next — and probably the last — narrative. I’m calling it “The Asclepion.” Which (for those lots of you who don’t know ancient Greek and those few who don’t know how to Google) refers to a healing temple.
There will be lots of authors for this part, not just me or Janice. Also, it might get into real time. I’ve set things up so Menniss can insert things by himself.
That seems to make him nervous so he’s sending things to me and I’m fixing em up a bit. I asked Francine if she’d contribute too, but she hasn’t said yes. (She hasn’t said no either. She’s frying size-dwarfing fish.) So, in the mean time, I’m going to write her parts all on my own, with a lot of poetic license. — Ox
Francine and Lemon had been talking about using a retrovirus to put immortality genes in someone’s DNA. The Eldest overheard them, and said this:
I have had myself taught about this DNA. I have learned of these words inscribed on a scripture hidden deep within the bodies of all beings. Words inscribed by some god or goddess who knew of writing four billion years before humans learned. And this creature you possess [she means the retrovirus], it shall on your instructions reinscribe this scripture?
Is that not sacrilege? Can I permit it? Can I sanction offense to a god or goddess I do not know, and one so powerful?
What Francine said in response didn’t exactly help, but, in in the end, Saul and Janice convinced her.
(Actually, what Saul says is pretty much the same as what Bob and a few other people commenting on this blog have said. Only he’s a heck of a lot more polite.) — Ox
Well, as long as I’m here I’m going to comment. Can’t help. My nature.
The parts going up tomorrow are pretty darn exciting. I really ought to parcel them out over a couple of days, but, naah. I’m not mean enough. The rest of Narrative 7 will appear in one burst.– Ox
P.S. Though, of course, as probably some of you have noticed, installments sometimes appear over there before I mention them here. Just saying …
For another, this blog gets mentioned.
Also, it covers several months and brings the narrative right up to October 3rd, 2010.
Remember what happened then? — Ox
I know it’s going to be hard to keep track of the time frame with the narratives zooming up toward the present while the present itself keeps moseying along at its usual slow-poke rate of one day per day.
Here’s a sign post: Today, Janice asked me, “What kind of shivering do you have to do on your way up from death to immortality?”
When you read her saying that, which won’t be too long, you’ll know you’re getting filled in on something that happened on October 8th, 2010 — Ox
Remember when Stephen revealed that I’d been fooling all of you about who the Bounty Hunter really is, but that I was justified in the deception? At which Flyss got furious, and then still more so when Kate admitted that she knew too?
But now I can explain myself: If Flyss had followed the real Bounty Hunter, she would have discovered where the Immortality Project is. But because I successfully diverted her (and it wasn’t easy!) she doesn’t know, and the others don’t either. Since they don’t know, there’s no reason for the Illuminati to interrogate them.
Would you now agree I did the right thing to fool all you just that little bit?
Whew. Hated to have to wait so long to explain myself. — Oxadrenals
As per Oxadrenal’s instructions, I shall rapidly post the seven short installments that will bring you up to date with what happened on October 7th, 2010. — ObservingAll
Remember that little finger I said was keeping me safe? Well, she isn’t keeping me safe anymore. She’s stepped away right when things are craziest, the way she likes to. She hasn’t said no, she hasn’t said yes. She’s letting chance decide. As is her way.
The only thing protecting us now is that the Illuminati don’t know where we are. Not going to last long. But we’re up to an eyeful and more than meets the eye also, I promise you that. It’s just a race to see if we can finish what we’re up to before they get here. My prediction: It will all be over, one way or the other, in a couple of weeks. Either they win or we do.
In the mean time, my own lifespan has become more indefinite, but in a bad way. So I’ve handed over everything I’ve written to ObservingAll. No matter what happens to me you’ll get to read it.
I’m also writing up some reflections Menniss politely shouted in my ears a bit ago after battering my door down and half throttling me. Those will go up too. And then … well, we’ll see.
Back to the quill. — Ox
This is all still past tense — last winter. But in about six more installments you’ll reach the present tense. And it’s a tense time for me, I can tell you.
Not only can I, but I will. Only, not just now, because someone is banging down my door. Back at you soon. –Ox
I wish also to lodge here my protest at the kidnapping of the creators of this “blog” by Soraya and her servants. Though I am confident they have not inflicted bodily harm on our friends, the loss of liberty is a great harm in itself. Here, as elsewhere, the behavior of the Illuminati has not been such as to call forth sympathy, but rather disgust. That they are powerful is not in doubt, but wise? Right? Entitled to respect? I fear not. — Saul
Greetings friends. I have read your kind words about the partially “auto” and thoroughly biographical narrative The Hafeem Saul. I thank you.
I appear here now at the request of Janice, who has asked me to comment on the most recently released issue of The Hospice. She is concerned that it might seem irrelevant or petty, and would like me to explicate it. I am glad to do so. And, with the aid of a creature that I am reliably informed is a not a creature at all, but a soft mechanism, namely “ObservingAll,” I have sufficiently mastered the art of “posting” to write the following.
As this “installment” describes, a typically egocentric neurosurgeon, Dr. Ogsbury, attempted to reassure Janice regarding her upcoming brain surgery by informing her that, although she was about to endure said surgery in a fully conscious condition, she would not remember any of it; therefore, in his opinion, matters would stand the same had it never occurred at all. Janice retorted that by the same logic he could have no objection to his own murder. This perceptive remark (by a remarkable young woman) set off a train of reflections in my mind that have not yet run out.
Epictetus wrote: Why should I fear death? If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear that which can only exist when I do not?
Very true. Yet I have never met the man who found these words comforting. (Bear in mind I write this as a person who has had the honor of meeting Epictetus.) But exactly why they fail to comfort remains unclear to me, and I have puzzled over the question much of my life.
When I heard Janice’s riposte to the sadly unphilosophical surgeon, I recognized that she had, in her uniquely individual way, raised a penetrating analogy to the problem. I believe it touches the heart of the matter, though in a manner I am still attempting to fathom. How shall I frame it? Perhaps like this:
Suppose I know that I shall soon undergo a savaging at the hands of a surgeon; say, for example, as is typical, he desires to earn the title “sawbones” by so removing my leg. Suppose that I know I shall not receive any anesthesia during this highly anticipated event, and will necessarily savor each tooth of the blade as it hews through my femur. And suppose finally that I will remember none of it.
Have I any cause for complaint? For concern? For demurral? For lawsuit?
At the present moment, I feel no pain. In the future I will remember no pain. If there is anyone who will be harmed by the event, it is therefore not me.
Strangely, though, I do not find this comforting.
Why do I not? — Saul
Because I’m saying all kinds of brilliant stuff, full of allegories and shit?
Or maybe you just want to get to know me better?
Anyway, we’ll be underground with Francine and the others pretty soon, just hang.
Like not post about the Present in the Present and give things away to certain folks.
True, most of it Happened in the Past, but it’s going to catch up to the Now pretty darn Soon, and I must start Yesterday to have Space Tomorrow.
(How Einsteinly Zen of me, eh?)
Janice is too sick just now to talk to you all in person. But the beautiful words she already wrote will speak for her just fine. — Ox