“We’re not done yet!”

December 22, 2009

{A Phonograph Recording: Part 1}

[Kinda gimmicky, kinda rough, kind of a test run for doing more. But that’s part of the blog, I guess.]

…”We’re not, and you know why!”

Holiest of hells, I muttered to myself in my head. The guy’s not going to let me jump this proverbial boat, is he? Promptly after yelling that like murder down at me from up on top of the sewer pipe, he grabbed the top edge of the pipe, swung in, and dashed down with a misplaced sense of heroism. I just stood for a minute, letting the words sift through me, before confirming with myself that, yes, the guy was nuts. Maybe one of these days he’ll run into a pillar somewhere, I thought once again. That’d be a nice sigh for me.

I should say: My business is strange, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from it, it’s that strangeness is a relative concept. Hell, it’s another dimension, another way of thinking, although I’m not sure yet if anyone else does that. Oh, ah, real quick, my name is, at this point, is blank, as I’ve found no need of one yet. I usually just make names up on the spot for the situation at hand, and as I am writing in what is often referred to as “first-person,” I don’t see any reason I’d need such a firm thing, anyways. Who knows, though? Maybe I’ll need one later. It’d be nice and pretty and fun to have a name, I think, but I’m not one to do something without further purpose.

But right, my business. It is my job to figure out what happened here. I’m sure you’ve wondered, too, since you’re hearing this and apparently must be sane–I’m sad that you’re only hearing this, really; I’d have loved to meet you. I’m sure you’re a pure delight, my somewhat-indirectly-ascribed friend. But, yes, I’m sure you’re curious about what has gone on here, too, what with the gigantic red towers jutting at angles out from the ground and through whatever was in their path. Or, perhaps, those incredibly odd machine-like animal-things that seen made out of colored squarish sheets of metal, that go forth with such wanderlust that I’ve only seen in myself before–People shall tell you that they are monsters, but I assure you they are not, a fact to which I aim to soon reinforce throughout this recording’s duration! Or maybe, maybe what ticked you off the column of curiousless complacency is the astonishing nature of how this world is divided neatly into blocks–blocks! Not on a grid, but even enough to be uncanny! How can a world have this much order and yet have none within the borders it draws?

These questions are what ensure my sanity. Everyone else I’ve ever met seems–Well, you know, I’m sure. Off. Uniformly off. The best way I’ve found to describe it is that they don’t react in their minds. If you swipe a blade on them, they back away. But if you tell them to be wary of people with blades, then they will nod as if the words are merely dirt clods rapping their heads, and then will do nothing as they see a man with a blade and a menacing look come upon them until he raises his sword. It’s simply preposterous. If you’ve never seen a woman have someone come up have bash her head, to which she only reacts right before the blow, unable to dodge in time… well, suffice to say you’d rather not.

It’s a troubling existence, being the only sane person in the world. Indeed, I’ve often wondered how the world got along with out me in the first place, and how it will do so after I’m gone! I dare say I fear for it. Even so, though, I suppose I should do my best to figure the world out while I’m here. Lucky that I happened upon this old thing in one of the red pillars a few blocks south of here! Fascinating object–you speak into it, smack it, and then smack it on its side to listen to what you just spoke. Delightful! I’m huddled here in another red pillar, this one a bit more leaning than the previous, though the fact makes for a nice spot to sit on the inclined wall. It wobbles a bit, though this isn’t too bad a worry, since I won’t be here long but to record some notes, now that I’ve introduced myself…

That said… er… ah! Ah, right, right, the man on the sewer pipe. He swings in, runs off, I’m standing there… Oh, wait, well, it would make more sense to start from the beginning, wouldn’t it? Well, yes, so, one day, I was defending a purple and orange animal-machine from this man by punching him in the face…

{To be continued? Maybe? Eh, I like the world I have in my head but I don’t think I have a decent enough plot in mind to carry it out. Maybe. Think I’ll return to Windboat Children first (finally!)}

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