It has been my experience that n will readily accept that their mind shapes the manifestation of their soul, yet when I dare to suggest that the reverse might be true I am t with scorn, disbelief or even anger. I cannot bring myself to be irritated with them; the prospect of an involuntary change in ones consciousness is frightening - doubly so given the staggering array of thods by which such a thing has been known to happen.
In matters of the soul there is a different flavor than re fear to their ire, however, and it is the sour note of betrayal. The relationship between man and soul is a deeply-personal attachnt. There is often a sharp denial, an insistence that their soul could not impress itself upon them so.
Of course, such denials miss the point entirely. Consciousness is not a sculpture or a painting, where external modifications to the base material corrupt the original intent of the creator. Thinking of oneself as a static work of ones own will is a natural consequence of the limited and intimate perspective we enjoy into our own psyche.
Instead I posit that consciousness is an ergent phenonon and that the self is much more quicksilver than iron. We are an illusory whole born of many inseparable influences. This is also a poorly-received idea in most cases. I do not see why; I have always found the notion liberating. I am not cold stone nor wrought tal. I am the breath of wind and the ripple of water, the fire dancing upward from the kindling of my flesh. How could I resent my soul for further stoking such a fla?
- Leire Gabarain, Annals of the Sixteenth Star, 691.
Two more people died in front of Michael that day. One was a man with thick, dark hair, the other was a woman with bare skin stretched over empty eye sockets. They both died smiling, just like the first. Each ti Michael was sent into a paroxysm of agony, and each ti Spark dragged him back to consciousness to ask what he had seen.
Michael did not answer him, instead trying to hold tightly to the few fragnts of his dreams that remained after each awakening. Spark did not press him for answers, nor did he attempt to coerce Michael further using his soul. Instead he wore an odd little half-smile and watched quietly as his subject struggled to organize his thoughts - and then began again.
When Michael awoke after the last death he had been moved to a different room, akin to the previous in layout save that he lay in a real bed, unrestrained. Only Spark remained in the room with him. Cautiously, Michael raised himself to a sitting position.
Spark smiled and offered him a glass of water. After a mont he took it and sipped. His throat was always raw and dry when he regained consciousness, and if Spark wanted to suborn him he had more direct thods than drugs at his disposal. After the glass was drained, Michael set it aside to look at his torntor.
I think that should be enough for today, Spark said. I have no wish to subject you to undue strain.
Michael only glared in response, unwilling to engage him in conversation. For all that Spark was reprehensible, he was correct - fatigue pressed in on Michael even as he lay in the bed. His thoughts were clouded by the stress, although they remained his own for the mont. He wondered how long that would stay the case.
Spark read the change in his eyes, giving him a tolerant smile. I suppose youre wondering where we go from here, he said. As instructive as this has been, I feel as though were fast approaching the point of diminishing returns. A new approach may be required. He cocked his head. I wish you werent so antagonistic. We could make much better progress.
Anger ward Michaels cheeks; he sat up straight in the bed. Then perhaps you shouldnt have killed Jeorg.
The smile froze on Sparks face, and for a mont Michael once again saw the dance of lights in his eyes. Then it passed, leaving behind only a wan look that emphasized the wrinkles and fine lines surrounding those eyes, a fatigue no less intense than Michaels own.
I will regret that forever, Spark said. I should have liked to speak with him one last ti, at least. I - did not expect him to try to kill without talking, and had no preparations for that circumstance. Evidently the intervening years had changed him from the man I rember. He gave Michael an evaluating look. Perhaps the past months more so than most. Did he know the function of your soul? Is that why he sought to keep you from ?
He leaned in closer, an odd intensity in his eyes, the barest flicker of his soul dancing within. What was it? he asked. What was it about you that changed him?
Michael looked away, not trusting that gaze. There was nothing he could say that Spark could not twist to his own purposes, and he did not trust himself to keep a level head while talking about Jeorg - not to his murderers face. Nevertheless, his heart began to beat faster. He would not have dared to act this way around his father, he knew how such n rewarded defiance.
He could feel Sparks eyes on him. Seconds passed before he heard the creak of Sparks chair, the footsteps walking toward the rooms sole door. They paused before the door opened, however, and Michael turned to look.
I will honor him in my own way, Spark said. I will observe what he taught , and act without haste or impulse. There are none of us without blind spots, Michael. Even Jeorg had them. He sighed and scratched at his head, turning to face the bed once more.
I will not attempt to suppress your will again unless you give cause to do so. If Jeorg saw sothing unique in you, I would like to see it as well. To that end you have your liberty, but know that there are no ways off of this island. You will have an escort so that you are not troubleso to find. A trace of the light slipped into his irises. Do not force to resort to damaging asures in your containnt.
Michael stared at his captor in disbelief. Im not going to participate in the murder of innocents just because you let walk around the island, he said.
Ah, Spark said, giving him a dismissive wave. His smile crept back to settle about his lips, stretching them lopsidedly. I think we have explored that avenue enough for the mont. I will confer with Claude to see if there is sothing less wasteful we might pursue. In the event that we co up with sothing I would appreciate your willing participation. If not - well. I can afford the loss of three more subjects.
Spark exited the room, leaving Michael staring at the open doorway with bemusent. For a mont he considered following, leaving the building, trying to find sothing to aid in his escape - but shifting his legs off the bed felt like a monuntal effort. Walking through the labyrinthine halls to the outside would not be possible for so ti, to say nothing of roaming the island in search of ways to flee.
Sleep had to co first. Sparks confidence that the island was inescapable was likely well-founded, and he would require wits and strength to contest it. Perhaps his dreams held more answers. Even if all they held was respite for a few hours, that would be enough.
Michael woke with a start. Two white-shirts were standing over him, looking down with solemn expressions. One had taken hold of his wrist and was gently shaking it, he released his grip at once when he saw Michael wake.
The two n spared Michael the necessity of making distance between them, taking a few steps back to stare at him. He returned the favor for a few monts, then slowly rose from the bed. His legs were stiff but no longer fatigued to the point of weakness; he could at least walk around without collapsing.
Who are you? Michael asked.
The taller of the two n cocked his head at the question. It was almost odd - he acted more alert than many of the others he had encountered, interacting with Michael almost naturally.
Im Stefan, the tall man said. He was red-faced and otherwise fair-skinned, with a jagged scar across one cheek. He put a hand on his fellows shoulder, and Michael noticed that the shorter mans dark eyes did not track his movents.
This is Beni, Stefan said. The doctor told us to stay with you.
I see, Michael said. What else did he say?
Stefan shook his head. Just that. Were to stay with you wherever you go.
Wonderful. Michael looked between the two of them. Beni was still staring off into the distance, not reacting to Michaels movents. It reminded him of sothing - he scowled and focused on the mory, trying to narrow down where he had seen the mannerism before. A few seconds later, he had it - Sofia. He frowned.
Beni is a spector, he said. Stefans eyebrows rose, but after a mont he nodded. What are you? Michael asked.
Mule, Stefan replied. Im sorry, I can never rember the proper word for it
Durens, Michael said absently. So I cant hide from him, and I cant outrun you. Is that about the size of it?
Stefan looked hurt, and Michael realized his tone had been more than a little accusatory. He imdiately felt horrible; these two were victims of Spark even more so than Michael himself.
The doctor just said to stay with you, Stefan said quietly. I dont know about anything else.
Michael shook his head. Its fine, Ive had a - very bad day, he said. Not your fault. He paused and looked between the two of them. Do you know the island well?
Beni does, Stefan replied. Hes been here longer than anyone I know.
I see. Michael managed to suppress a wince; no wonder the man wasnt talkative. How about you? How long have you been here?
Stefan pressed his lips together. A year, maybe. He traced his fingers over the scar on his cheek. I went to the field hospital for a shrapnel wound, they said I could redeploy here instead of going back to the front.
Do you like it here? Michael asked.
If Michael hadnt lived through it himself he would have missed the small pause in Stefans motions, the blank look that flitted across his face as his thoughts collapsed into a disorganized ss. Then it passed, and a smile pasted itself across his face.
Yes, Stefan said enthusiastically. I love it here.
Michael couldnt bring himself to smile in return. Instead, he looked at Beni. Stefan followed his gaze, then shook his head slowly.
Beni doesnt talk, he said. Lost his tongue.
Michael frowned. In the War? Forgive my saying so, but he looks Safid.
Another discontinuity rippled over Stefans face. I dont know where he lost it, he said. Hes Safid, but he was never in the War. Soone once said he was a ships lookout. A troubled look crept into Stefans eyes. Soone - I forget who told . He clenched his fist, then opened it spasmodically. Muscles bunched in his neck, his eyes widening to show their bloodshot whites.
I forget, he hissed through clenched teeth. I-
Stefans eyes glazed over, and he smiled sheepishly at Michael. I forget a lot of things, these days.
It was hard for Michael to keep the horror from his face. This was the first ti he had interacted with the white-shirts since becoming aware of Sparks ddling with his own mind, and seeing the telltale signs of it in anothers actions was extrely disquieting. He did not want to imagine what manner of place Stefans mind saw, when it contemplated itself.
He frowned. There was the thread of an idea there, if he could stitch it together. He closed his eyes to better focus on the truncated strands of mory that still drifted through his mind. A few drifted forward in response to his focus, he reached for them-
The door opened suddenly; Michaels focus shattered. He scowled at the intruder, then raised his eyebrows in surprise. Luc, he said. What are you doing here?
Luc smiled and shrugged. I saw the doctor not so long ago, he said you were finished helping him. He was worried you might get lost, said I should keep an eye on you.
I thought thats what these two were for, Michael said, looking at Stefan. He sent them here with the sa instructions.
An amused look spread over Lucs face. You must take a lot of watching, yes? he said. I suppose he thinks itll take three of us.
Michael froze. Sparks voice echoed in his mind, the resigned tone of the last words he had said before leaving. Exhorting Michael to participate willingly, or else - I can afford the loss of three more subjects. Oh, Michael said quietly. Oh, damn you.
What was that? Luc said, frowning and walking over beside Michael.
Michael shook his head. Part of him wanted to tell the three n everything, to persuade them that Spark was using them all - but he knew that wouldnt work. Stefan and Beni likely couldnt think about disobeying Spark without consequences, and Luc loved the man like a father.
So instead Michael looked up and smiled at Luc. Nothing, he said, long years of practice keeping the emotion from bleeding into his voice. Im just very tired, and Id like to get outside for a bit.
Fair enough, Luc said. Anything you want to do?
Michaels smile beca a bit more real. Im not sure, he said. Ill keep my eyes open and see if anything catches my interest.
Good man, Luc chuckled. Well figure sothing out. He looked up at the two white-shirts and beckoned them toward the door.
Michael followed suit, keeping a neutral look on his face. Luc was talking again, but his voice was not the one Michael heard. Jeorg had spoken in his dream about the horror of Sparks murders, told him to look at it clearly. To decide if it was sothing he could learn to live with, or-
His teeth grit, his fists clenched. No, not sothing he could learn to live with. Luc reached the outer door and pushed it open, the light catching on the small window set into the top. For a mont Michael saw a mirrored image of the world in its reflection, a twinned version of the sky and trees that glimred in his vision a bit longer than it should have - and then it was past, and he followed the others outside.
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