| From: | "Mark L. Neidengard" <mneideng@****.CALTECH.EDU> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Masquerade: One Year After |
| Date: | Tue, 19 Aug 1997 11:16:46 -0700 |
>>>>>[As requested, here's the A/V clip of your presence at the designated
site, lifted and erased without incident from the security system. You know
I don't listen to the audio on these things, but I presume it has to do with
that unpleasantness a year ago. *snort* For what it's worth, you have my
condolences. And I have your cred, making it all the more pleasant to work
with you. *smirk* Gokigen yo.
+++++include: matrix.log.200858
+++++security access: authorized
+++++begin transmission
The view from the security camera is that of a communal mausoleum for
cremated remains. The camera pans back and forth several times. Other
than a few insects, there are no visitors, and even the bugs seem
interested only in the memorial flowers. The occasional sound of a nearby
buzzing bee and the far off sound of a sprinkler system are the only audio
elements.
+++++recording: stop
+++++recording: record feed from data input
+++++continue transmission
An attractive looking black couple come strolling into view from below.
They are dressed almost too well for them to be at a cemetery. As they
walk along, the woman outpaces her companion, one hand drifting along the
name plaques, the other hand cradling a bouquet of orchids. As the camera
zooms in, you can see the intricate braids of her hair swaying in the
summer breeze. She finally stops at a particular plaque, her fingers
playing over the letters of the name. When she turns to the man, who has
likewise stopped, the video can see that the plaque is marked simply:
Adrian
August 20, 2057
"Is it alright?" she asks him with a Caribbean accent. He pauses a
moment, looks around, and then leaning against a pillar, nods.
"It's safe." He says in a similar accent.
The woman lowers her head and appears lost in concentration for a moment.
Swirling ripples move over her body and leave behind a different person
standing in the woman's place. She now appears to be an elf with bone white
skin matching her short fine hair. When she turns back to face the
plaque, the camera can see her body shape is different as well, given the
sagging and altered folds of her blouse, and her eyes are now a brilliant
red-pink.
"Addie...why'd you have to be so brave?" her words are flat and haunted as
she traces her fingers slowly and carefully over the letters of the name. She
now sounds less like a native of the Bahamas, and more like one from Portland.
"He did what he thought he had to to save your life." The man, too has
dropped his accent.
Without warning, her knees buckle, and she slides down the face of the
mausoleum wall until she is kneeling. Her bouquet falls from her limp
arm. The man moves fluidly to support her. Tears well up in her eyes,
but instead of rolling down her cheek, they are absorbed and dampen
streaks in what appears to be fine fur on her face.
"My life...my life wasn't worth his. He threw his life away for nothing,"
she manages to say after catching her breath.
"He didn't throw his life away. He risked it for a cause he thought was
worthy: keeping you alive."
"For a cause? Argent made it very clear to both of us, that we were each
other's sole reason to keep on living. If I failed...what did he say?
'I'm not getting any older, and I can always eliminate this failure and
start again.' The sick bastard."
The man snorts. "His father said that much?"
"No!" She spins towards the man angrily. "I don't care if he sired
him....
Argent was not Adrian's father."
His expression becomes solemn. "As you say. You never seem to want to talk
about it, so I had been thinking you had put it, as much as possible, behind
you."
"I haven't put it behind me." She turns back to Adrian's plaque. "I love
him."
He pauses, face becoming unreadable. "Didn't you say you loved me?"
"No...." She stands slowly, then faces him. Again swirls wrap around her
body and again leave her transformed. Silky, onyx hair cascades over her
shoulders. Her skin is ashen pale which only serves to accentuate her
cobalt blue eyes. "_I_ love you."
"What about the _real_ you?"
"What _real_ me? I _am_ real. Or maybe I'm not. Maybe the real me died
a long time ago. Maybe she never existed at all."
His expression is troubled, his eyes fixed on hers in earnest inquiry.
"Did you say you love me just to please me?"
"I said 'I love you,' to please you. I love you to please you. I make love
to you to please you. What more do you want? I don't have anything else to
give. I...." The words are not said in anger, but are pleading and soften
the man's hard expression.
"Please tell me...tell me whether those words are from your own heart, or are
a reflection of mine?"
"Your mistake is that you actually think there is a difference."
He looks at her a moment longer, and then gently enfolds her in an
embrace. Burying his face in her shoulder, he can barely be heard to
whisper into her ear: "Is there really nothing more I can do for you? The
you that grieves behind the mirror?" He eases his grasp enough to look
her face to face and trace smooth skin where the trail of tears had once
flowed down her cheek with one thin finger. "Do I have to let you go so
you can become whole?"
As soon as she comprehends the thought of being let go, she clings to him
tightly, as though she fears even the literal interpretation of his
words. "Don't let go, not yet. It hurts...you hurt. Forget what I
said for now...please? I think I know what you are trying to say, but I
don't know how to do that, or if it is even possible. But for right
now...don't let go."
They continue their tight embrace for a while. Finally, he says to her,
"Let's go. We can talk about this later. Are you ready?" She nods and
transforms again, into the woman who arrived with him. They walk arm
in arm out of sight of the camera.
+++++end transmission
+++++recording: record from camera input
+++++input: executable: backtrace.burn
+++++end include
]<<<<<
-- Synthesis <hh.mm.ss/08-20-58>;
