Corny movies

There is room for those in life. I admit it.

Tiny Letters

"Dear friend, someone wants him out of her life. Yet, you think he is the best thing that happened to you. I hope for your sake that you are right. However, every combination is unique. Maybe you two will be good for each other." he didn't say. She doesn't need to hear a doubter.

Instead, he said "That's good!" and meant it.

He booked himself a room in a hotel. Paid good money for it. It was expensive but the overpriced service was still better than being under served for a reasonable price. This was necessary. He will be fine until his savings run out. Living as if there was no tomorrow was his thing. No, that is not quite right. Living as if nothing better will happen tomorrow was his thing.

There are times when strangers are better to be around. The balcony overlooked the swimming pool. In the mid-day sun everyone at the pool was just happy to be in and around the water. There was no music drowning the voices of children. The grown-ups were inaudible from this distance. Those alone observed the others and those together occasionally exchanged a few words.

A bit of guilt surfaced, watching them from up there. He chose to behave as if someone was watching him as well from somewhere. 

How long would a sheet of paper take to fall from here? Where will it land?

Being near-sighted helped him avoid vertigo. In the past he would have been shaking by now, clutching the railing. Things now appeared almost two dimensional. He started sketching the scene in his large notebook.

As a final touch he added a drifting piece of paper to the scene. Too bad he couldn't draw the wind. 

He did write in tiny letters: "It's a nice day, isn't it? 🙆".

Palmyrah - Chapter 10

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Chapter 10

Kes got home and made breakfast. She made some extra for the afternoon. She setup her breakfast on the porch. Her place was a proper house. Not many rooms but there was plenty of light. The trees in this suburb swayed gently in the wind. The neighborhood kids were playing on the streets. Her front garden looked fresh after the rains four days ago. There was very little traffic and the community appreciated the clean air. She had shade on her porch all year long and her plants, sunlight. The setup was ideal.

A neighbor looked in her direction and they exchanged a hello by waving their hands. When she was done eating she read the last manuscript on her phone.

"I sowed a palmyrah seed in the middle of my field when I was thirty years old on a whim. It now stands there alone. After eighteen years of juvenile life, the tree matured and turned out to be a male. After two years of drought the field is barren and the tree is all but dead. Even if it stays alive, isolated, it can only be bled for toddy while it is alive. If you kill it you could eat the soft tissue under the crown, make use of the trunk and fronds as building material. I do not know how to climb the tree.

Four days ago we had the first rain of the spring season. Hail and thunder squalls. A lightning struck the lonely palm and it is charred now. I examined the remains and found a hollow in the trunk. There were some charred remains of a bird's nest. Thankfully the nest was empty.

It will soon become a termite mound if there is enough water underground. It is raining again now. Another squall, more intense this time and it is threatening to take away my roof. I hope to survive the day."

Kes frowned for a moment. Raised her eyebrows for a second. Then almost rolled her eyes and walked into her garden to take care of the plants.

-------

Epilogue:

Writing a series, on the fly is tedious. If you had the patience to read this, I hope you found something to like in it.

The title was inspired by a historical fiction and then I ran out of inspiration. Years later, out of necessity and intrigue, inspired by another author's work I set out to finish it. It was unwieldy but I think I have managed to tie it up into a recognizable shape.

I am glad that I finished it. But it is... meh. I might feel differently years later.

Palmyrah - Chapter 9

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Chapter 9

Kes arrived at Zi's apartment at 6:45 am. She parked the car in the visitor's space and stayed inside the car. She called Bo who answered immediately.

"I am here. I will knock on her door at 7. But I would rather you called her first," Kes suggested.

"I am going to call her after we finish talking.... What do you think? Two days?"

"I hope so. I will call you once I give her the first course," Kes reassured her.

"Right. You do that," Bo seemed to want to say something more.

Kes waited. Kes always waited silently.

"There's some news," Bo continued.

"What is it?"

"It is Y314..." Bo trailed off.

"What happened?"

"He struck out and he should have quit. Instead he turned subject." Bo needed a moment.

Kes waited.

"He died." Bo finished.

Both women observed a few moments of silent mourning.

Kes never volunteered so Bo continued, "Such a waste really..." a long pause. "You don't have to go check on him. All the paper work is clear. There is no one to contest anything. The term benefits will go to the next of kin if she can be found. Or it will be moved to the recovery pool for other subjects. I am going there to take care of things. You watch over Zi."

"I will," Kes continued "call me if you want to talk." Bo was slightly surprised. She understood the intent behind the gesture.

"Thanks. I will call you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Kes took her time crossing the parking lot and climbing the stairs. She walked past Zi's door when she heard a sleepy muffled voice. She continued to the window at the end of the hallway. She gazed outside for a while. Thankfully, her phone vibrated. It was a text from Bo: "Knock on the door".

---

Zi didn't have time to think anything through. Almost as soon as she ended the call with Bo, she heard a knock on the door.

A petite woman, probably a foot shorter than her, wearing specs smiled at her pleasantly. She had a back pack on her shoulder.

"Hi, I am Kes," the woman said.

"I am Zi. I just spoke to Bo. I am still not awake fully. Sorry, come on in."

"Thank you", said Kes, walking in. "This is the longest we could wait." She took off her backpack and placed it on the kitchen counter.  "I will explain to you what is going to happen once you freshen up. But I want to give you a detox pill right now. We should not waste any more time. Is that OK?"

"OK...", Zi agreed. It didn't sound like she had a choice.

"Good. You won't feel any different for an hour. So you can go get yourself ready. I will stay here." Kes handed a pill from her medicine box to Bo. "You should eat something. If you have the supplies I can have breakfast ready for us both."

Zi rummaged in the fridge and shelves listing the things she had. It was all surreal.

"That will do" declared Kes. "I will take care of it."

"Okay", said Zi. She swallowed the pill and drank some water. She appreciated the few quiet moments that it offered. She decided to take her time in the shower. She took her stuff and locked herself inside the bathroom for half an hour.

Breakfast was soothingly good. That immediately brightened things up. So far all she had heard were Kes's to-the-point instructions and leading questions. What is she? A professional mother?

"How long will I have to do this?" Zi said and worried for a moment that she was being too blunt.

"We'll know in about an hour," was the matter of fact reply. "Let's just wait. The detox will starting showing its effect in about ten minutes. You might have some chills. You'll have to drink a lot of water and use the bathroom. That's about it. I am here for support."

"I could have done that myself... I mean, you being here is worrying me."

Kes knew that there was no way around this. She just said it: "There have been deaths recently... and one last night... after taking the medication. They have all been men." Kes stopped herself before she could say "A bit ironic considering the target demographic."

She continued, "We are still not sure what is the cause and we are encouraged not to speculate." She didn't say "They were all living alone."

Zi sat quietly for a moment. She didn't know what to think. She collected the plates and Kes followed her with the other utensils. They silently washed the dishes and dried their hands. Kes sat at the foot of the bed and Zi took her chair and gazed out the window and started feeling a bit warm, especially over the nose. She felt the perspiration with her finger. Her mouth tasted funny.

Kes observed her from the corner of her eye. She used her phone to scan the trial medication which Zi had. Then she scanned the detox which she had given her now. Entered the time and a few other details along with it for the log.

Through the course of the day it did not escape Zi's notice that Kes's phone was built for discretion. It would go silent whenever Kes was looking right at it. It only rang once when she was away in the restroom. She noted the clever usage of  face recognition and proximity sensors. She shivered in appreciation.

Bo had been appraised. There was nothing to worry. Two days will be enough.

Both of those days passed in virtual silence and total discretion. Kes would read something on her phone. Zi would sleep or be on the phone herself. She took the pills three times a day. She suffered no more black outs. She seemed to be her normal self.

On the third morning, Zi was ready to go biking and Kes was ready to leave. Zi gave her a cursory hug and they parted at the parking lot.

Kes had no particular opinions about her most recent work experience, her report said.

Zi was thankful for her presence but raced away on her bike before Kes got in her car.

Kes made a mental note to read the last known palm leaf manuscript by the scrivener, at home.

Palmyrah - Chapter 8

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Chapter 8

Y314 heard squeaks in the wardrobe. Of course! If he were a boar he would have bristled. But he only felt the sensation on the back of his head and neck. His primal self was preparing for a confrontation.

The door was slightly ajar and he found a mouse trying to drag his letter into a hole much smaller than its body. He hated rodents but didn't mind them outside his space. Well outside his space. It tried to leave the paper and hide into the hole but something was different and it was not able to move in. It squeaked in frustration and he sensed that it was about to dart around. He closed the door and stood staring at it not knowing what to do.

He cursed the building management and the maintenance man. If only they were a bit sensitive. If only he didn't imagine them laughing in his face for calling for help over a tiny mouse. No use even then. It was too late in the evening.

He was not able to think straight. The fake peace he had felt moments ago, after writing the letter, exploded. Appropriately enough, like a mouse trap.

"Calm down," he told himself. "Don't do anything. Wait until you know what to do."

He looked away from the wardrobe's door. The room was softly lit with the light filtering through an off white curtain that matched the wall color. He was not a fan of any color bold but had started liking more colors so long as it was not his. This was just off white. A shade of pink? He ran out of thoughts. He wanted the mouse out. Try again... to not think about it.

He separated the curtains and made the room brighter. Opening the window let some fresh air in. Five floors up, the traffic was not that noisy but he could do without it. The eyes of the tiny mouse was shiny and stood out. His arms responded with a tingling sensation at this thought. He quickly rubbed his arms  and behind the ears, shuddered and shook his head.

He found the phone on his bed and noticed that he had an urgent assignment from work. He glossed over the details about Zi. This added to his welling panic. He didn't want to be confusing himself by bringing one more woman into his life, given his tendencies. Or was it a girl? He never could decide what to call them. He was in a happy space. Though right this instant something else was on his mind.

Confirmation dialogues might as well not exist. His practiced hands always confirmed just through muscle memory. So when he rejected the assignment by a button click he couldn't stop himself when the warning about three rejected assignments showed up. He threw his head back in disgust.

The implications of this started dawning on him and the mouse squeaks seemed to be a mocking laughter.

A few agonizing minutes later he received the ultimatum: become a subject or quit.

Ever the one to want to fix things quickly, he chose to be the subject immediately. He had a stash of the medication meant for subjects from when he was a minder, not more than a few minutes earlier. Maybe the medication will help him face the four legged intruder. He went through another rush of unpleasant fight or flight response at this thought and felt reassured that he was doing the right thing. The system told him that he can start anytime he was ready since he already had the medication with him. He was ready now. He noted the time. He had the option to choose his own task. He chose to face the mouse before and after taking the medication. Only the second half of the task remained anyway.

He swallowed the pill and waited. The imminent effects already made him feel confident and he calmed down. After twenty minutes he could feel the difference. He was ready for the confrontation. 

He moved like a cat. The mouse was making another attempt to hide into the hole. It was tenacious alright. He quickly opened the wardrobe and his right hand pounced on the mouse as it tried to leap into the room. His left thumb and index finger then took it by its tail. Its wiggling and squeaks didn't bother him. He took the letter and placed it back on his desk.

If it was daytime a few jaws would have dropped when he took the mouse to the manager's office and released it there.

With all the medically induced calmness he finished the letter:

"Don't believe a word I say. I am only kidding myself."

Without medication, Y314 preferred orders. He didn't like choices. Ultimatums with choices practically kill him.

Five minutes later his head was resting on the desk, his mouth drooling. The letter was safely away from his head. His right palm rested on the letter. He was dead.

Palmyrah - Chapter 7

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Chapter 7

Bo was awake when her work e-mail alerted her to the arrival of Zi's report. She read it twice to be sure.

Zi's instruction to follow before taking the medication was to disable a few electronic devices without causing damage to them. She had chosen to disable the mobile phone cameras and the webcam using black tape. Her instructions for one hour after the medication were to re-enable the devices. She had taken the medication at 8 pm and at 9 pm she had started to try to enable the cameras and apparently failed. She seems to have used unnecessary force in removing the tape or the leftover glue on the phones with no recollection of what she actually did. It is likely that she used a knife and returned the knife to its exact place. She had not even attempted to do anything with the webcam. She didn't remember going to sleep, woke up at 7 am, got herself ready by 8 am for work and found that she could not recall names and faces. Then passed out for about 10 hours. Approximately 22 hours after taking the medication, only the positive effects remained: uncluttered thinking and a distinct lack of anxiety. After 25 hours, that is, around 9 pm the medication seems to have all but completely worn off.

Bo was concerned because of the two blackouts. It is not normal, even for this experiment, for people to pass out twice within a twenty hour period. She used her intranet portal to request a minder for subject Zi. The system identified Y314 as the nearest available. Once Bo confirmed the choice, the system updated itself to prevent any further testing on subject Zi. The system also sent an alert to Y314 who immediately rejected the assignment sighting personal constraints. Bo was surprised and she looked for the next available option. Kes was available and willing. All this took ten minutes, all exchanges happening electronically.

Since they could not afford to waste time, Bo instructed Kes to arrive at the subject's home, her friend Zi's home, at 7 am and sort out any misunderstandings over the phone. Kes was also told that it was a campsite, meaning she had to be prepared to provide for herself.

Kes immediately got on to the internet and scouted the area. The apartment didn't have a space outside such as a balcony. So even if the subject didn't have space or she hated Kes, they will have to share the apartment. Kes mentally prepared herself to be as pleasant as possible. On the bright side, she didn't have to pack the literal tent. She can now take just the sleeping bag and clothes. For anything else she can improvise or buy new things or take a quick trip home.

Meanwhile, the system sent a notification to Y314. He had rejected three assignments so far and now he either has to become a subject or quit. Those were the rules.

Bo felt a little sad. She slept.

Palmyrah - Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

When Zi got on her bike again, the stars were not to be seen. There was an easterly squall coming in. There was a hint of lightning in the horizon. She wanted to be home when it rained. This time she started functioning in power mode but not without a plan.

She waited for the traffic lights to turn the right color and started moving at a speed just enough to miss all the reds. When she reached her apartment the night security guard had arrived and he nodded in her direction. She returned the gesture as she entered. She locked her bike in the rack and took the stairs again.

As she took the keys out of her backpack she recalled a mouse near one of the storm drains vents, below the curbing, on the way back. This happened often. Sometimes they came out even when there was traffic if they wanted to drag in something of interest.

She returned the contents of the bag to their appropriate places and decided to take a look at the laptop. It had nicely dried up. She picked off the black tape on the webcam and cleaned the stickiness off it with alcohol from her toolkit. She was not sure if that was the right thing to use but that is what she had. It is not going to look any worse than her poor hand-me-down mobile phone.

Just then the phone rang. "Bo calling."

"Hey, Bo."

"How did it go?"

"It worked like you said it would."

"You mean the side effects?"

"Let's be real," Zi joked.

"Any surprises?"

"My phone cams have scratches on them. They won't be recording anything useful until I get them fixed."

"Interesting..."

"Did you get any footage?"

"I took the advice of a dear friend and didn't do that."

"So you black taped it. Good girl." Bo was relieved. "Hey, just be vague in the report, OK?"

"Of course."

"Do you want in for the next phase?"

"Let me know a week before. I will decide then."

"Don't do it."

"I hope I won't have to."

"Alright then. Send in something by the morning, yeah?", Bo reminded her.

"I will do it right away. Goodnight, Bo."

"Goodnight."

Zi powered up her laptop and started filling up the drug trial report online. Took her a good thirty minutes. Did she have a footage to avail the extra benefits? "No." The penultimate field asked her to describe her experience in her own words. She kept it very simple. "All the side effects mentioned were felt. There has been no anxiety for 24 hours. I seem to be returning to normal by the minute." The last question was: will you participate in the next phase? "Maybe." She submitted the form and the screen informed her that her payout will be processed within an hour.

Ten minutes later she was richer. 

Twenty minutes later, she had spent most of it on monthly payments and she had added some to her savings.

It started to rain. She reread the bits about long term side effects of the medication. When she went to the restroom, the mirror showed a drool stain on her chin. She replayed the events in her head. Only the counter waitress could have noticed it. She might have had her helmet on even then and the strap might have hidden it a bit. Optimistic. She went to the whiteboard hanging on her front door and added a new item to the check list. 

By the time the sky had finished roaring and flashing in the early hours of the next day, Zi was drooling again on the laptop.

Palmyrah - Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

Y314 started writing a letter to no one that will never be sent anywhere.

"The scrivener would have to have been sure about what he wanted to scribe. Palm leaves are not digital documents that can be revised many times over. Forged by necessity, his thoughts were clear. I am thankful for computers though. I need to type to make sense of complex situations. I am using paper today. I cannot promise to be concise.

A former mentor loves dogs. Just moments ago it occurred to me that he understood a dog's love or needs better than he did a human's need to feel and express something similar. I feel like calling him and saying a four letter word and you. To his credit, he did keep me sane; maybe even saved my life. I overdosed on his prescription though. That is not his fault. There are others who could have done better by me. I as well. It also set me off on a journey. Every road less traveled which I have taken has brought me new insights. In hindsight, I would trade all this knowledge for an innocent affection which is what I wanted in the first place and the want has been there for as long as I can remember. The more I think, the further back in years it goes. It cannot be my fault that that feeling gets mixed with all the rest of the human needs, let alone wants. If it is wrong then it is a Design flaw. Four letter word for that as well.

I thought my need for physical intimacy was going to overpower me, the way things were heading, the habits that I was acquiring. It surprises me to learn that that is not true. I suspect that our experiences tune us differently. In the end, the need is not a zero. You get it in different ways. That also means there are others with different levels of needs. There are also those who make a profession of it to satisfy those needs. Individual freedom and mutual consent are sacrosanct. Have to be. What is life otherwise? It applies to any two entities. Then there are the design flaws or simply Design. There is no consenting food; only apples of temptation. Could some contradictions be eliminated by deviating from Design?

After reaching this level of understanding and acceptance, I replay a friend  exercising her freedom, out of necessity, with a strange determination. I vaguely sense a yearning for something else in her and for fleeting moments I hear it and see it, I think. It is not her choices but a suppressed emotion that made me want to react, or so I think. It is also possible that there's nothing special about the situation and she enjoys or at least could enjoy what she does as a job like any other job; and it is the hidden feeling that is coming in the way... so I think. I spent many a restless day unable to reconcile the perceived contradiction but as I write now, I feel calmer. I may have come to a partial understanding or touched upon something she might actually be thinking herself.

My affection for her is genuine. Maybe someday I will also feel proud of her work when she genuinely starts feeling proud herself and when I finally start sensing it.

Also, sometimes, showing affection can be a hindrance. I have had days when I would rather not take comfort from others when I know what they offer only opens me to more hurt. It is better to stay numb during a fight."

He needed to use the bathroom. He took a few extra moments staring at the mirror after washing his hands. He wasn't looking at anything in particular or thinking anything. There was a clam space and he liked it. 

When he came back to the desk, the letter to no one was not there anymore.

Palmyrah - Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

The keyboard had been filling up with drool by the time the sky started turning into shades of red. From the second floor, as it was named in this particular building, you could see till the horizon with no obstructions. The canopy formed below the window. The plain stretched in all three directions outside. A mixture of semi-deciduous trees formed a not so lush carpet, revealing only a few of the roads nearby. For a few more days one can see the traffic moving at a distance, then the fresh growth will turn everything into shades of green.

As the artificial lights started polluting the night sky, Zi stirred.

With eyes still closed, she started registering what her senses told her. She expected to feel light headed. Check. She tried to move her jaw. The corner of her mouth felt sticky. That was not expected. Stiff neck, shoulders and back. Check. Her left arm was hanging off the table from below the elbow with the upper arm stuck on the table. Her right elbow was on the keyboard and her screen was bent back alarmingly by the palm resting on it. Both her shoulder joints hurt. Check. Without bothering to open her eyes she directed her back muscles to bear the load and tried to straighten up. A few of the keys were reluctant to let go of her left cheek. Once she was sitting upright she tried to loosen up her arms by gently massaging and then felt the square shaped impressions on her face.

She wanted to pick off the black tape from the webcam but first things first. The laptop needed to be saved. She pressed the power button, making the device shutdown and got up carefully. Her legs were fine. She walked over to the towel stand and brought back a dry one. She folded and placed it on her work table such that some part of the towel hung of the edge. She deftly flipped her laptop and placed the keyboard on the towel, with the screen hang off the edge. Satisfied that the setup was stable, she took a couple of steps to the foot of her bed and tried to sit down, slouching, with her fingers interlocked between her legs. She instead bounced off the bed gently and started pacing to get some blood flowing. 

A glass of water seemed nice. As she filled her cup food seemed nicer. Order in or go out? She looked at what she was wearing. Acceptable. She finished the water and took the card out of her purse. Pocketed it in her pants. She tried adding the keys and the mobile and decided to take the backpack instead. Threw everything and some more in it, took her bicycle helmet and locked her door on the way out.

She took the stairs to the ground level parking lot and put on her helmet deciding on a place to eat. She set out, economizing her movements. By the time she used her brakes for the first time she was at her destination a few blocks from her apartment.

A placard on the glass box of an eatery assured her that it was self-service only. She went straight to the token machine, her sneakers not squeaking on the shiny floor. She selected her items and paid with her card. It pushed out a token which she took to the lady at a counter. She stood there for a few minutes, taking in the aromas and the soft lighting. She didn't look around. When her order came she found an empty island, in a sea of one seat islands. Only a handful were occupied. By instinct she had picked one closest to the white wall, giving her a view through the other two glass walls and the open kitchen.

When she was done eating, the only thing on her plate was the question of what happened to her earlier that day. She left it on the tray, to be trashed.

Palmyrah - Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

Zi looked up the word 'ersatz' on her hand-me-down mobile phone. Words were not her friends. She did consider herself reasonably good with computers. The way movies showed computers or computer people always got her goat. Hardly anything in real life happens in real time or with cool computer noises. Things happen in fits and stops, trials and errors -- all without sounds.

She thought 'ersatz' applied to her. So be it.

She put her hair in a bun. That's the only do she has ever liked. She just shifted the location for variety. Whatever she ended up with, she usually liked it. Not that she didn't care how it looked, she just liked it. Almost always. Today was a good hair day per usual.

Ready for the day, she moved to her work area. Her apartment was a single room with a large window on the east side, a kitchenette by the door on the opposite side, a queen sized bed in the middle, a couple of chairs away from the foot of the bed and her two nearly empty work tables were placed right against the exposed brick wall -- one right under the window and the other to its left away from the window. She felt that this room had personality but she had made sure that the place was scrubbed clean after she bought it.

She liked to setup her laptop so that she can look out the window on days she expected to think more than type. Get some sun in the process. She preferred to code in front of the wall because it was easier when looking at the screen for longer periods. She was not sure which table to choose today.

She instead sat on the swivel chair and started experimenting with conservation of momentum. She spun around in the chair, extending her limbs and drawing them closer alternatively. Then repeated the experiment, direction reversed, to avoid getting dizzy. That's what she believed anyway. She liked symmetry too.

She wondered how she got the name Zi. She couldn't remember. Logic said that she should ask her parents. She couldn't remember them either. Puzzled, but not showing it, she tried to recall any faces from her memory and realized that she didn't know what she looked like. She scanned the room for a mirror. There wasn't one. Her hand-me-down's lenses were scratched to the point of being useless. She turned to her laptop calmly. No frown on her undefined face. The laptop was sitting in front of the window.

"Just as well", she thought and rolled her chair over to it and woke it up. She couldn't recall which application controlled the webcam. She just typed webcam on her keyboard, the input going nowhere in particular but a suggestion came up anyway. She started the app, the webcam LED came on but the lens was covered in the smallest black tape. A slight frown crept on to her face and disappeared without a trace.

She considered not touching the tape. She didn't know why that thought came to her. She reached out towards the tape and blacked out.

Fiction

It takes time to write something that is different enough from the things that inspired it. It takes iterations. Fermenting. Kneading. Whatever it takes. To build some bulk. To reach an acceptable consistency. Patience. Sometimes years of work.

This is all a guess of course.

I have a new found respect for books.

sea - part II

Link: Sea - part I

Unconscious,
floating on the warm water,
bobbing over the wavelets,
under a bright blue sky...

Conscious,
on the sea,
over someone's chest,
held by an arm....

I turn,
in the desolation,
hug in gratitude,
forget to swim...

She turns,
paddling,
for us both,
chocked by desperate arms...

I relax,
she breathes,
we drift,
waiting...

I wait,
for our strength to fade,
for the next big wave,
for a gale,
do us part...

She waits,
to see shore,
to find land,
her land.

Forgotten,
my role,
to be the float...

I wait,
to return,
to be unconscious.

palmyrah - Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

Y314 was getting rid of old memories and stumbled upon the last entry in one of his journals, dated Dec 23, 2013.

"As before, it is time again to evolve. 

The nomads speak of people from the west who spoke differently from the people who were here before. I do not know how we spoke before they came. Today, there is no difference between those who came and us. I don't even know if I am not one of them. 

I wonder if the people from the west taught us about the gods. If I tell anyone that there was a time when we did not know about gods, it will not make sense to them. As far as we know, the gods created us. So there can't be such a time when according to our people, we did not know about gods. I had no such thought either until one day I saw a boy....

It was at a temple. The boy's mother was asking him to pray. Children imitate those who are around them even before they speak coherently. I think the meanings behind their own actions gets revealed to them gradually, in a series of epiphanies. I remember a few of my own. I do not remember what the boy actually did but I wondered if the boy knew about the gods. Did I know when I was born? No. Didn't my parents teach me? What if this boy never understood the idea of a god and never taught his children? Will god disappear?

Another day, another temple. A story from the scriptures was being enacted by some children. I wondered why a child posing as a God was instilling such feelings in the gathering. It was just like any other story otherwise. That's when it dawned on me. It was simultaneously a device,"

That is where the entry abruptly ended. One would expect to remember the last part of almost anything but that was a period when he was easily distracted. Journals were a chore. If he had completed that sentence, he thought, it would not have been anything exceptional but now he was a little curious. "... simultaneously a device," and what else? Can that sentence end meaningfully?

He had to put that thought aside. He was not the same person anymore. He had indeed evolved. A different thread of memories took over. That year end was also the time he had first heard about the scrivener. The anonymous writer who seemed to have written for a reader in the distant future, all the while sensing that the world might not look as it did in his time. As if he knew how tantalizing the missing details of the past will be. Only parts of his palmyrah notes have been found. Back then Y314 couldn't afford to wonder about the missing pieces. It didn't matter to him. He told himself that people were people always and they lived a variation of the same themes and left it at that. He wasn't always like this. History had soured in his mouth the more he consumed it.

Now he was feeling a little bored. Maybe he can afford to obsess over the scrivener a little bit. To an extent where it does not turn unhealthy. Set some limits perhaps. Strictly a hobby.

"No", he said aloud and threw the journal into the fire.

Good morning

I saw myself sitting on the couch in the living room, facing the front door. The room was dimly lit with the curtains all drawn closed. Some sunlight still managed to get in. Every detail in the room had some brown or hospital green in it. Quite boring. I was correcting something in the strangely large notebook placed over the coffee table. Not an ideal setting for writing.

I heard her feet shuffling in the bedroom to my front-left, come to the doorway and stop.

"Good morning... ", she trailed off with a yawn, making a feeble attempt at covering her mouth with the back of her hand, slouching a bit as she stood.

I looked up towards her and returned her words, with no intonation.

She stood there for a second longer with sleepy eyes and dragged herself back into the bedroom, tangled hair of shoulder length finding their way back over her ears. I got back to the notebook.

I don't know who she is exactly. This is not our house. Or her's or mine. The writing materials are mine. She looked like someone in particular and also like a few others and once she turned she was just someone. Last night we were walking along a footpath surrounded by trees, with another friend who might now be in a different room. We have not seen each other in years. Her face had changed a bit and looked younger. I remember her falling asleep on the trek. How did that happen? I might have carried her in.

Was I dreaming? I tried opening my eyes and felt the shell. The eyelids were heavy, burning a bit as I had covered my head with a blanket.  Slightly light headed... I might be hungry among other things. Various muscles ached in different ways, indicating the boundaries of my existence.

I might have sighed bit and shrugged as much as one could in that state and went back to sleep.