Tokyo X7.1

"Noriko One and Only, reporting. Two minutes after liftoff. Due east-northeast."
"Makiko the Small and Meek here. Loud and clear."
"Can we stop it with these ridiculous names?"

Frantic activity greets the rising of Makiko/ the loss of inter-island communications forced their hand, all agreed/ it was time to go see why their parents were not answering/

"Don't start with me, Sato the Truculent, it's just too incredible. The view."
"That high up, I have no doubt."
"I salute you, Fuji-san! May I view your snowy heights again, sooner than later."
"Nori…"
"Pardon, I forgot, the Oort clouds are listening…"
"I didn't say that."
"Let's not dwell..."

Fully tanked and with a minimum of weapons on board/ Noriko sweeps east-northeast after a quick turn around still-frozen Tokyo/ reporting back anything worthwhile

"Ten minutes airborne. Over Kashima… there's the Stadium…"
"I half wish you'd bring something home-cooked back with you."
"Yeah, Nori, this frozen and freeze-dried stuff..."
"Wait! The southern half of the stadium!"
"Go ahead."
"…"
"Noriko, report, please."
"Thousands, gone swimming. Thousands."
"Oh, my God, what has happened?"
"But only on one side of the -- ?"
"Wait, wait. Think in sequence. Nori, can you take pictures and email them?"
"Uh, Sato, I know how this thing works."
"I'm not saying you don't. Please do one circuit of the structure, do ten frames and
send them to us."
"And then do I have permission to continue north?"
"Uh… wait, who's in command?"
"I have no idea, I just got up."
"Last we talked, it was me."
"Then ask yourself, Noriko!"

The young women all hail from a country town on the isle of Hokkaido called Shiriuchi-cho/ Satoko's father proudly noting, 'not at all so far from Admiral Yamamoto's home village'/ this joke worked best on visitors/ Satoko and Makiko pore over the photographs as they appear/

"Photo one. NTT is down, but these are loading briskly…"
"So what exactly is working?"
"I'm a combat pilot, sis, I have no clue."
"How about you guess. Wait, didn't the Doc always say that?"
"Say what, 'I have no clue'? Oh, yeah, a grand total of once."
"Be nice to me, I'm not awake yet. Oh, two."
"Girls, if NTT is off line and you're getting your email anyway, stands to reason the cellular arrays are still up."
"I check my email obsessively, do you believe I am still getting spam."
"Positive sign…"
"Of what."
"Photo three. For all the good they -- God…"
"And our private network, if we have one. Sixteen minutes airborne, turning north."
"Nori, if a UN peacekeeping agency doesn't have our own private com net, who does?"
"Do you know…"
"What, Maki?"
"This cannot be for real."
"Um, photo one?"
"…Yes."
"The line of abandoned clothing cutting through the stadium seats. As if there was a game ongoing. When it happened. And on the other side, nothing. Empty."
"Yes, let's just call it 'it.'"
"What else is there."
"Sorry, girls."
"Stop apologizing, Satoko. The curve where the abandoned clothing ends in the seats, see, it's oriented like the curve of the stadium wall."
"Wait! Neutron bomb?"
"Sato, we agreed on 'it.' That means no more conjecture right now."
"Yeah, we survived, and we wouldn't have. And we aren't at war."
"Well, somebody's at war with somebody."
"Very astute."
"India and Pakistan?"
"Cold War II, sure, we took no sides in that disagreement."
"Yeah, why would they bomb us?"
"OK, no guesses. Your location, Nori?"
"Over Kairaku-en."
"You are both unimaginably cruel, you know. I still haven't had any tea!"
"All right, Maki, I'll make you some."
"Bless you. I can't look at these photos any more."
"Neither can I, and I took them. But we have to gather information, Makiko. Photo
three."
"Yes."
"When spectators enter a stadium for a sports event, they fan out. It's not just all those who've gone swimming that should concern us, It's also how it seems everyone that was beyond the curve of the stadium wall's top completely disappeared."
"Keep an eye on where you're going."
"I would have expected Mother Satoko to tell me that."
"'That too is as it is in each heart…'"*
"Please, Sato."
"Okay, okay, here's your tea."
"Thank you, sis."
"Can do."

Makiko sips, grateful/ Satoko picks up Izutsu's desk phone again/ all lines stil dead

"Phones are still down. This curvature is not evidence?"
"I don't believe so. Where's the crater?"
"I'm stopping now."
"Please."
"No probable locale of detonation was evident from my view. Kairaku-en looked lovely from up here. North-northeast. Twenty-one minutes airborne. Seems to be a fire in the city of Hitachi; no, several. Especially the cement plant."
"I wish we could do something."
"Rain is expected tonight, that should help."
"Have to concentrate on home base, sis."
"We're so hamstrung. The TV and the radio are totally scrambled, nobody is answering! We have no idea what's going on out there."
"As the Doc said…"
"Yes, but Nori's errand being what it is, I think I'm understandably on edge. What happened to my Mama and Papa and my two brothers is my business, and the Doc would agree. "
"No argument! I meant, focus on the task at hand first."
"…Whatever that may be."
"Keep analyzing the photos."
"You haven't sent any more, Noriko."
"Sato asked for ten! I'm not emailing vacation snaps here!"
"Okay, then… there's a goalie uniform in front of the third of the stadium that has the swimmers in the stands. No other evidence of players on the field."
"A goalie doesn't play by himself… Nori?"
"Go ahead."
"Photo eight. Upper left quadrant. Dead center. I recognize that T-shirt."
"What, Sato?"
"See, Maki, isn't that Momoko's boyfriend's -- "
"I see it. Toru! Lord…"
"Joy Division T-shirt. He used to hand-wash it."
"Never liked them. Bunch of wimps."
"You didn't like him much either, Makiko."
"She could have done better. And if you want stylish agony, Apollinaris is far more convincing -- "
"Maki!"
"All right, I'm sorry, I'm distracting us."
"Unbelievable..."
"So, if we calculate the arc of the curve across the stadium defined by the cut-off line of swimmers, we can figure where the sun was at the time the event occurred."
"Again, whatever it was."
"Ah, girls? I'm over Idekura, due west-southwest of Kubota, and it appears that a highway is missing."
"What."
"Don't tell us any more."
"Then who shall I tell."
"Constructive…"
"...Says Mother."
"Maki, do the calculations, please. Nori, can I get an image of the highway?"
"The one that's not there?"
"Exactly."
"Certainly. Why not."
"Well… you did say 'Please.'"
"And patch in your HGPS feed so we can compare."

Without the highway that ably lines Noriko's hypermap uplink/ but which is not to be found below her Dragon/ a host of small cities a hundred or so miles in on the isle of Honshu's coast are isolated

"Just as you say."
"This is so weird. My readout says the road exists, my eyes say no."
"The HGPS is real-time, how can -- "
"Izutsu, we need you to get out of the water, now."
"Yeah, he understood this stuff. Any thoughts, Sato?"
"Now you want to know what I think."
"Or I wouldn't have asked."
"…Best you not land and try to thumb a ride?"
"I'm in stitches."
"What do you think is going on in Shiri?"
"Maki, until I get there, I haven't anything I can tell you, do I? Uh… thirty minutes airborne. Passing over Otsu. Still no highway. A lot of fires."
"May the gods send a monsoon."
"What?"
"Whoever's in charge. Okay… calculations."
"We're listening."
"According to the sun's angle as suggested from the curvature of 'swimmers' at Kashima Stadium, 'the event' took place at 6:40 in the afternoon, our time."
"Wish we knew what day."
"Wouldn't it be obvious? Six-forty on the 15th of May. When we woke up the day after…"
"…That is around the time our phone stopped ringing."
"…So while we were sitting in our room after dinner playing a marathon game of Risk, the world ended."
"It did not end, Maki, we're right -- "
…
"Nori?"
"…"
"Noriko, report!"
"My hypermap just updated."
"And."
"The road is gone."

Satoko stands, looks west out the great hangar door/ towards the fields and the silence/ wishing she knew what to answer, other than…

"Take another one."

Copyright 2007 by K. Egbert. See 'About the Author' for full statement of ownership.
* From THE DECAY OF THE ANGEL by Yukio Mishima. Copyright 1971 by Yoko Hiraoka.

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Tokyo X6

The following morning/ between patrols and before breakfast/ Satoko picks up a line in the hangar to try her parents again/ and it's dead/

"Maki? Oh, not yet…"
"Let her sleep, sis, what?!"

Satoko holds the receiver to Noriko's ear/ punches through the outgoing lines/

"NTT is down."
"Or our phone system?"
"'Fraid not, look at the lit buttons…"
"Okay…"
"What?"

Satoko puts her hands to her head, squeezes her eyes shut/

"Lord, no…"
"Sato?"
"Huh?"
"My command period."
"Oh. Thank heaven! Your orders!"
"My what? …Right… then how about you go downstairs 3 flights -- "
"Without using elevator 44!"
"Uh, yeah. Got that. Any 3, no, 5 offices you find open, check the lines, and report back."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Don't push your luck…"

Satoko is off with no further static/ Noriko worriedly checks the server terminal/ the HGPS blips behind her/ Makiko turns in sleep by her Dragon/ almost too quickly the stairwell sounds with familiar clattering/

"Let's think positive here…"
"No, am I right?"
"No."
"And how positive is that?"
"We now may have something else to do."

Copyright 2007 by Ken Egbert. See 'About the Author' for full statement of ownership.

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Tokyo X5

in sleep/ all Makiko remembered were the hands/ reaching/ here, for example, just one well-articulated hand/ perhaps he played a shamisen/ or whatever that stringed instrument was in her mother's bedroom/ not a sound/ a gray akin to that they'd seen below when she'd leapt like a little fool to see if that was actually herself dressing furiously in their room while an Izutsu who wasn't really there upbraided a Satoko who may not have been there either/ yes, that very gray/ and it was not fog/ more like clumps of steel wool/ light as air/ some great as airships/ others tiny as snowballs/ and there were other hands/ those of a woman/ her wedding ring and engagement rings missing/ though a mark remained/ an old man's hands, flourishing as if across a piano/ and a young man's too, not a mark on them/ nearly all reaching towards her/ in a way that was no real way, she thought they may be drowning/ and yet, what if they sought to pull her under as well?/ it appeared Makiko had lost enough already/ she didn't dare approach them/ though her rescue training protested loudly/ so many globs of gray/ and what was-—

her eyes open to the arch of the hangar ceiling/ dots of dead arc lights hanging above/ her cot hard by her Dragon/ if she extended a hand she'd grasp the flank of the starboard side rocket assembly/ every sound from her cot springs lifting away in all directions/ she listens for her friends' breaths/ hearing only the blip from the HGPS in Izutsu's office/ no intruders over Tokyo airspace/ no one at all/ tears start again/ she moves to sit up, the cot grinding in answer, radiating fresh splinters/ a sound hard by and not unlike it answers, a moment later/ finding her slippers, she pads across the cold floor towards the worklight by the HGPS readout monitor/ outside Izutsu's office, Satoko sleeps on another cot/ some part of her friend had heard Makiko rising, and responded/ that had been the answering squeak of springs/ standing over Satoko, she wipes her eyes/ looks to the HGPS desk/ a head lies on slender arms, unmoving/ Makiko smiles/ if 'Mother Satoko' saw this, she'd be furious!/ moving into the office, she lifts Noriko as gently as she can out of her chair/ carries her to the third cot they'd found/ on the other side of the door to Izutsu's office/ covers her with a sheet, yawns and returns to Izutsu's office/ setting the teapot up, setting the door ajar so that the smell won't wake the others this one time/ she sits before the monitor to hear it blip/ wait for dawn/ steal a peek at the central server flat-panel/ open to Net traffic in and out/ two hundred twenty-seven in, millions of packets out/ if only she knew as much as Nori about this/ but back to the HGPS/ she tried to relax/ wait for dawn --

the monitor grew darker/ at so glacial a rate that Makiko never noticed/ the hands returned/ a bit more frantic this time?/ while they'd patrolled that day, not one distress signal/ not one man, woman, child waving a white cloth/ who were these, then?/ now forearms drew from the swaths of hard cloud/ reaching further than before/ and those that didn't/ such as the old man's/ she saw how they struck the air in front of them/ how each note tapped corresponded to a piece of music she knew/ …wasn't that something by Liszt?--- what the… / and more hands surfacing yet/ farther away/ closer still/ that music -- / itself surfacing

Awake again with a loud 'Yuck' almost making it to her lips/ Makiko hears an echo of those notes/ decaying and splitting apart/ not unlike the sound of bedsprings in the hanger/ but nowhere near as quickly as she'd prefer/ and decides that this will not help her concentration/ practice and experimentation had gven her a way of getting her mind clear/ slipping quietly to her backpack, she zips it open/ draws out her father's microplayer/ Makiko returns to the HGPS, closing the office door this time and setting the earpieces/ she decides not to wonder whose those hands are/ the music is not new/ but who needs new/ it'll do the job

"SO?
ARE YOU BREATHING?
NOW?
SO?
ARE YOU BREATHING?
NOW?
NOW?

"WAKE UP
ARE YOU ALIVE
WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME?
I'M GONNA TALK ABOUT SOME FREAKY SHIT NOW
SOMEONE IS GONNA DIE WHEN YOU LISTEN TO ME
LET THE LIVING DIE
LET THE LIVING DIE -- "*

After all, she reasons/ one needn't hear the blips of the HGPS/ to see an incursion/ leap into a flight suit/ hit the alarm/ lift the hangar autodoor/ dash away for the target/ blow it the hell out of the air -- / whatever it might be/ I'm waiting for you,she thinks/ come on/

"Can't you imagine how good going through this will make you feel? I promise no one will ever know, there will be no chance of getting caught, they never loved you anyway,
and do what you are compelled to do -- SAVE ME, GOD!!"*

"No…"/ she thinks/ "nothing will save you/ nothing at all/ come to us/ take your medicine/ I don't know what you look like/ I don't know who you are/ I don't give a damn/ they made us patrol the airspace every day for a reason/ but they didn't have to tell us why/ we're still here and we're waiting for you/ we're your fate/ this city will be waiting for the missing residents when they come back/ come take it between the eyes/ you know you want to…/ how does that funny Hebrew word go two songs on?/ "Tefached…"/ 'gather your fear…'"/ she grins into the monitor while the tea brews and the girls sleep on/ "it won't do you any good/ ha! Satoko would really be upset/ I'm sitting here, out of uniform/ listening to music!/ well, when the cat's away…"

"ARE YOU BREATHING NOW?
DO THE WICKED SEE YOU?"*

Copyright 2007 by K. Egbert. See 'About the Author' for full statement of ownership.
*From 'Voices' by Draiman/Doegan/Wengren/Moyer (Disturbed), c 2000 Giant Records Inc.

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Tokyo X4.2

…
"It looks so quiet."
"And without you two arguing, it is."
"I think we should take an afternoon nap once we're done."
"One of us should watch the city HGPS readout."
"Looking good over here. No looters…"
"Yeah, I agree with the 'nap' part. I'm not all in, but I'm most of the way."
"No 'anybody'…"
"I know, Maki. Hang in there."
"Can't we set it to alarm if something approaches the city other than… birds, I guess?"
"That'll work! We should be proud of ourselves."
"Um…"
"Can your neo-Buddhism just this once, Nori."
"Okay! I guess you're right. Passing through the loading cranes now..."
"God, it's so empty. Where did everybody go?"
"You already know my suggestion."
"And the TV…"
"Don't. If you would."
"Okay… least you didn't call it an answer."
"How many times should we do this daily?"
"If we see the HGPS worked okay while we were up, we can crank it to maximum and do this, I guess, three times a day?"
"Nori! Sato!"
"What?"
"The offloading area! The cranes! I see a man in a boat! And a kite with him?"
"What's he doing?"
"Please do not say 'swimming.'"
"Just lying in this boat of his. Knocking against the tanker in slip G. He looks like he's asleep. And the kite…whoa."

The three land on the Yuchiki Maru's deck/ one by one/ run to look over the side/

"Hello! Hello! We're coming to get you!"
…
"Louder, maybe?"
"HELLO! WE'RE COMING DOWN!"
"He doesn't look like he cares."
"From here…"
"What?"
"Northern islands? Fisherman?"
"Like that welder who came up from the metal shop sometimes? I don't know. Wasn't he shorter?"
"That is a fishing boat. HELLO!"
"Maki, we better bring him up."
"Okay… we'll take your chopper, we'll lower me on a stretcher assembly, and we'll
get him on deck."
"What about me?"
"Supposing I stay in the boat, you'll drop a line when Sato's out of the way and I'll
come up on it with whatever's in the boat?"
"Including that kite?"
"If you want it you can have it, I don't care."
"I don't, but why was it in the boat?"
"Maybe it was another fisherman."
"Sato, men do not turn into kites."
"You all but ordered me to try new explanations."
"That's an -- ?"
"Are we rescuing this poor guy, or what?"

Recalling their training/ somewhat by force/ the women heave to it and get the
unconscious man up on the deck of the tanker/ the one Dragon lifting off of the deck makes no impression on the ship's flat ride in the water/ Satoko looks him over while Noriko drops a line to bring Makiko on deck again/

"He's definitely dead."
"Cause?"
"What?"
"CAUSE OF DEATH!"
"Close your side door, you'll hear me better!"
"Excuse me, I'm not on board yet!"
"Maki, I wasn't going to -- "
"I'm in! Shutting the hatch now!"
"Phew!"
"Sorry, Maki."
"No problem, what's the scoop."
"Exposure, I think. He's really old."
"How did he get into Tokyo Bay harbor without getting flattened?"
"Well. By the time he arrived, it may have been like this."

Satoko nods toward the bay and the rest of the city/ as dead as the man before her/ the wind kicks up, landward/ Noriko's Dragon makes the tanker deck, blades immediately slowing/ when Makiko climbs out, she props the kite against the front cockpit/ with Noriko she brings the stretcher out/

"You're probably right. Wouldn't the seagulls have been at him if he had been there longer?"
"Wait!"
"What?"
"…There are no seagulls."

Peering into the bright sky/ searching with their eyes as they'd done before with their Dragons/ they don't notice a gust behind them reaching down/ snatching the kite off the tanker deck/ pulling it slowly/ end over end/ into the air/ and lifting

Copyright 2007 by K. Egbert. See 'About the Author' for full statement of ownership.

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Tokyo X4.1

their drones are all the remaining sound of the city above/ I recall the night Ozzy first seduced Petey and myself/ he picked us up outside his office in midtowm Manhattan/ we had been looking for a human interloper to begin the process/ not certain how to get it started/ so we'd walked this particular Earth's particular city/ looking for a kind of inspiration/ Ozzy's appearance, his offer of a cup of coffee, his offer of a bed/ all unforeseen/ those were all the inspiration we needed/ there are times I believe the plot was as much him as we/ but before he first kissed me/ he said:

"Whatever part of Manhattan you work in, you'll notice this funny roar… Sometimes there will be a siren going by a few streets away, but then it sinks back into the roar. I
work weekends now and again, and I will prop the window open and listen to the city
idle like a motor. Forty floors up. I had a friend who called it 'gray noise.' But it is a roar. Sometimes I can hear it in this room!"

I'll pass on what else happened/ but I took to memory what he said of cities/ and remember now/ when Willie and I returned to Montreal some time back/ I heard no sound/ other than our own gunfire/ the shrieks of dying demons/ and here, where my eyes rest again in Tokyo/ even here, nothing/ only the thin hum of three helicopters/
three of the many that dispatched us, not that long ago/ in the cisterns below/
the hiss of the ocean/ from above in the sky/ too deep a note for even Frank to catch, I'd think/
-Not really. -F.
-Are you seeing this? -D.
-… -- P.
-Nah, I hear it. -F.
-Don't want/ our-- --D.
-Heads exploding! The bass drone comes from the water beneath the surface. Way down there! The visible water just emits gray noise. The hiss is the water hitting sand, when there is any.-F.
-Thanks. -D.
All right, I stand corrected/ but we've washed up on any number of shores/ I might have noticed by now…

"Been thinking, girls."
"What, Sato?"
"I wonder if we should talk less on the comm. Somebody might be listening."
"Uh, who?"
"I don't -- "
"How much time did we spend hailing on all frequencies! When we finally got to
Izutsu's office and found he had also gone swimming -- "
"Wish you wouldn't call it that…"
"Well, there were his clothes with no Izutsu in them! And we did! Even the hydrogen band! Nobody hailed back! Andromeda will hear me in another 2 million years."
"I think it's more like 2 ½ million, but let's be constructive."
"Yes, Mother Satoko."
"…'Kiyoaki Matsugae… who might he have been?'"*
"WHAT?"
"I'm quoting."
"Hagata District is clear."
"Bless you, Nori. I'm over… the Yutiki District, which is clear."
"It looks different."
"If I remembered…"
"Seems like it is."
"We're country girls, Nori, all we really knew well was the facility and the coffee shop near Ueno Park."
"There was that noodle shop on the other side of the main entrance."
"The Ginza. Another 20, 25 persons gone swimming."
"…Men or women?"
"Some of each… some children… entering coordinates now."
"If you know that noodle shop, you know the other 300 of them!"
"Maki, we knew Akihabara, and Harajuku."
"And that's a quarter of one per cent of Tokyo, sis. Wind's blowing some of their clothes across the avenue. It's so sad."
"Constructive, says Mother Satoko!"
"Okay, okay!"
"You imitate me better than I do, Nori."
"It is good to be up again."
"Yeah, my Dragon feels wonderful."
"Me two."
"And three makes you and you and you!"

Delighted if tired laughter dances among the Dragons searching the city/ it is now
the second day after they woke to a twisted situation/ and here, an altered Tokyo/ maybe/ I can't see that well/ and all they have been able to think to do is patrol it/ as ever before/ until they are relieved/ none of them said that part/ they just began/ this is their first complete circuit/

"Remember the one time we went to Shinjuku?"
"Can we forget all about that! Everything cost a week's pay!"
"And the man who asked us for a foursome…"
"I will always love you for saying 'no' first, Sato…"
"All I did was beat you to it… why think of that?"
"Little gnome."
"He was. I'm over Shinjuku now. Totally dead. Lots of swimmers…"
"…OK, girls. We made it!"
"Could have turned out worse, yes."
"Sweep the harbor, next?"
"What else is there."
"All right… me down the middle, Nori north, Maki south. We'll meet…"
"Rainbow Bridge."
"Sounds good!"
"Sato, when are we going to start asking all the obvious questions?"
"Out loud? Why?"
"Like will we be doing this for 20 years? And why don't any of our parents answer their phones?"
"We've been asking ourselves those questions already, Maki. Do we have any answers yet?"
"Fine."
"No, I mean it. Assemble a routine first. This is all new to us. All our lives we've never been on our own. Define a perimeter to defend. We'll call again when we get back."
"OK, but for now. Rainbow Bridge?"
"I'll beat you two there."
"No racing! We have the petrol for a while but you don't want to push it."
"All right…"
"Mother Satoko!"
"Oh, sorry, forgot."
"'Don't you suppose, Mr. Honda, that there never was such a person?'"*
"That's enough."
"You called me Mother Satoko first."
"You reminded me when I forgot."
"Ladies, if you please."

As a trio of beetles might do over a tasty bush/ the three separate over the bay and agree to report back/

Copyright 2007 by K. Egbert. See 'About the Author' for full statement of ownership.
*Quotes from THE DECAY OF THE ANGEL by Yukio Mishima. Copyright 1971 by Yoko Hiraoka.

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The ground rules for this page
originally posted: November 17, 2007

This page is a gateway to my characters' website,
up and running at www.warfampestdeath.net; excerpts will be found here, and all are welcome at the main show. New
posts will appear here 2 to 3 times a week, and new content at the web site will be announced here whenever it is posted.
What's the gist of my own little look into this world? We all know how reality (or our view of it) is rather malleable. Maybe it's time to see just how malleable. And this latest twist on our existing knowledge comes from a very surprising angle, a source known to most of us in the Christian Western world, but long thought of as silent leviathans at the far edge of our sight; lethal but held at a remove by a well-recognized if unseen Hand. Well, that's what we've assumed. After all, all we can see of them are fore-images. Right? But what if we misinterpreted? (and don't say 'Misinterpreted what?") What if we were meant to? What if those giants of our most revelatory nightmares were already here? What if they were to speak? What would they have to tell us? And in the end (whichever one it turned out to be...) would we wish we hadn't listened?
Now, about theogonies. That's a Greek word defined as "a study of the genealogies and the origins of the gods." Or G-d, if you prefer not to be pagan. Harlan Ellison, in the introduction to his great 1970s collection DEATHBIRD STORIES, is quoted as saying that when belief in a god dies, the god dies. The stories in that volume, describing another route that fantasy might take besides that implied in Ballard's UNLIMITED DREAM COMPANY, show the old order of gods (Dis, Zeus, Prometheus, certain others who might actually be listening) giving way to new (money, notoriety, cars, beauty, overindulgence, fate, etc.). Clearly none of these are gods yet; Ellison was right to describe the nodes of worship many of us genuflect before now, not the impending personalities he felt they might eventually be fitted with. He may not have wanted to write more than he was sure about. For me, well, what about the process? Considering all the above 'new' nodes I've mentioned, aren't they all extensions of self to some degree? So that we might escape this mess, maybe we had better start formulating our own theogony(ies) of the present and future. Now.
In point of fact, maybe Ellison was right not to give names and aspects to the new nodes. If it's true that all gods and pre-gods contain some part of ourselves, why not eliminate the middle(wo)men?
A few correspondents who've checked out the web site 'www.warfampestdeath.com' have been questioning the
author's sanity. Morals, too. 'Hebephrenic schizophrenia' has been mentioned. Well, no one knows their own mind, so why not acknowledge their willingness to contribute to the ongoing dialogue that is the human race's swath through the aether... and change my web page's name? Just a little. I am still wondering about the coming crop of gods. But maybe they won't
take that particular form when they finally do appear. Maybe we'll have moved on and we won't need that kind of god any more. You can't tell me our view of G-d Himself hasn't changed over the last 2000 years. So, to add the term 'Hebephrenica'
hopefully widens the picture a bit. Even if all it does is turn the spotlight back in our faces.
This situation and its response is especially appropriate when we consider that it's become commonplace for only positive comments on any kind of expression, any cultural or political stand, to be considered 'contributions.' I don't think it works that way. Negative comments 'tell' as well. They also have their
uses. Nobody's going to tell me, for example, that Tom Pynchon's AGAINST THE DAY or David Foster Wallace's INFINITE JEST aren't too long. They are. But that's the point. Those books are universes within a set of pasteboard covers. They do not simply tell a story and get their butt out of there, like, say, Hemingway's THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA. This may not be the best example of a negative comment illuminating a work of expression anew, but I believe it's cogent and not without some merit for thought.
Time to let the excerpts and the half-told tales you regularly find here to speak, or remain silent, for themselves. As I've said previously, a lot of authors give themselves the 'front and center position' on their web sites. I would never say an author who has created his/her own fiction is wrong, but for my own part I've decided that my characters are a lot more interesting than I am. Don DeLillo says in MAO II that the author is what's left over when the work is complete; how can I argue with that? And how many authors interview better than their books read? So when you have a look at www.warfampestdeath.net, you'll see the mythology behind the characters. Hopefully this will shed some light on what made them what they are. Feel free to drop them - or me - a line. Your choice.
So thanks to all who've written, even if you hated it, and to all who've inquired. We've a ways to go. Possibly not as far as you think, but still...

Send author a comment on this post

I'm a great believer in the concept of collaborative knowledge. Not every advance in thought or idea can be reached by just one person. So join in the free exchange of ideas here! Or elsewhere...
Unlike in the outside world, everybody here gets a fair hearing. And thanks to those who've commented already. Here's one now...

"Just read your comments on The Gospel of Judas and thought
I'd drop a note. It is a little odd that something everyone admits has existed since AD 180 is suddenly 'new' - but I'm not certain the splash will be as small as you think.

"I believe the world - the US in particular - is looking for something that makes more sense than orthodox Christianity, and regardless of the Gnostic ties, the Jesus of Judas' Gospel is a lot more logical and believable than thaty of Matthew, Mark, Luke or John. It is also true that books and documentaries on all these subjects have become a lot more popular, and more people are becoming aware of little nit-picking inconsistencies. Most folks don't know that Matthew, Mark, Luke and John didn't write their own Gospels, or that no one really knows who did.

"Anyway, it was a good subject for an Easter Sunday post. I wrote a novel in my career, "This is My Blood," in which I wrote bits and pieces of a fictional Book of Judas - it's odd how my train of thought mirrored a lot of what was found in this actual translated version. "

"Thanks for making me think..."

David Niall Wilson

(Re-'printed' by kind permission. Check out Mr. Wilson's published works on Amazon.com; well worth a look.)
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RE "Are authors certifiable? Creativity and transmigration"
(1-7-06)

This was an enjoyable read, thanks!

Gerald
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RE The Navigator Unbound (9-10-07)

quintuplribbed schuit chromaturia photobranchia devulcanize
subsample income cloakage

Israel Hester

What can I say? My writing obviously makes people speak in tongues!
-K.E.

I write sci/fi and fantasy with religious and historical overtones. I have this sinking feeling that fantasy on the E.R. Eddison/ J.R.R. Tolkien/ Mervyn Peake variety is no longer a viable way
to go, however. Much as I liked those books... If you want my idea of what fantasy may have to become in the 21st Century, I suggest J.G. Ballard's THE UNLIMITED DREAM COMPANY.
In regard to anything that I post here after 7-8-07, please be advised that all of it is copyrighted by myself in the year indicated at the bottom of the text, and any quoting of the text posted must be OK'd by myself. I don't subscribe to the concept of 'fair use,' and I ask that all visitors here do the same. Naturally, I recognize that I have copyrighted the characterizations but not the characters, which are in the public domain. Send me an Email with any questions, I'll answer ASAP. Thanks for checking it all out! -- K.E.
P.S. Steganographers need not apply!