I've personally studied the U-Pb dating of meteorites and moon-rocks dude. Never actually dated anything Terran, but I do believe the Solar System itself is pretty good evidence of the age of the planet. It's the neighborhood after all.
"Damn." I said. My birth was a very good forgery. Even Yahweh didn't know the full truth about me. This meant that Jaru wasn't the one to leak this information. It was someone else. Rebecca..."So you know."
"But who are your masters, eh?" He looked at me. "Not Yahweh. Not Satan. Who's pawn are you, Lancelot du Lac? Not fair playing without introducing yourself, you know." And he shook a finger at me, scolding.
"Ah. That's something someone who plays by rules says." I replied smiling. "Demons always disappoint me in that fashion. They say they're agents of chaos, but they love rules, and the gamesmanship in twisting those rules to fit their definition. The universes first defense laywers, my father always said."
"You didn't have a father!" The demon roared. "Who do you work for, Lancelot?"
"That is something none of us will care about in about five minutes." I said, pointed to the wristwatch I had just pushed a button on. "Snendin has about five minutes to exist. Triage."
"You..." The demon's eyes panicked, he ran from the room. He would never make it off-planet alive. I turned to my team.
Milo looked at me. "I screwed up didn't I?"
"No, Milo." I told him. "I did. A long time ago. It has come back to haunt me."
"Rebecca." Jaru said. "They never told me they had TWO moles. I'm sorry Lance. For what it's worth."
"You won't have very long to feel guilty about anything Jaru." I said, my eyes going distant. I downloaded my Anima into the foam; a far distant clone-body began an upload. "I'm the one who's sorry."
"What about us?" Rene said, speaking for Gale and him both, and then sighed. "Expendable. Pawns."
"Part of the game kids." I shrugged "Sorry."
And then the sudden rain of huge meteors began, killing alot of people, and wasting alot of capital investment in terra-forming. All of my friends died, but then, so did Legion. The Mole was gone, so the balance was tipped toward Yahweh slightly again. Not much. Evil has its ways.
I woke up on a far distant planet later that day. Not Kaylor. That part in the play was over. More disorientation as my clone adjusted its physiology to my incoming Anima and memories. I aged as my psyche was uploaded, turned into the man I was just before I fried along with everything else on Snendin.
"So..." Bess was crying even more now. "You're telling me my husband worked for Satan? That he was a...what? Double Agent?"
"I'm afraid so, Bess." I said, pushing a button on my wristwatch. "For quite some time."
"And you're..." She looked at me suspiciously. "Why are you telling me all this...Lancelot, is it? THE Lancelot, as in King Arthur and all that mujumbo from old Terra?"
"That's what I'm telling you, Bess"
"Merlin." She said. "You came here to kill me. For what I might know."
Her prescience. Damn it. She rose from her chair, no doubt headed for the driveway, the aircar.
"Too late for that now." I said. "I'm sorry Bess. I have no choice."
I said the codeword: "Triage."
The download had begun. This time I allowed my thoughts to slipped into download. I didn't want to watch what happed to Gandra. It was a nice place if you discounted the hostile Anima. My mind slipped into the foam...
I awoke with a start, my mind reaching for my Anima to defend against an enemy. None were in sight. The suite was quiet. I pulled myself erect and shook my head to clear it. Something...
"There's something coming..." Milo's voice in the other room confirmed my own uncharacteristic prescience. "Something huge."
And that's when everything went crazy. The illumitubes flickered and died, and then exploded everywhere in the suite. Sudden darkness enveloped the five of us.
This planet was a trap. Sterile, no background Anima to tap into except for a dull, slow earth presence. I would have to limit Anima use, conserve my personal Anima.
I called up a light wisp. A small, ghostly firefly landed on my shoulder. I summoned a shield of power centered around my left wrist, pulled my silver sword from its sheath beside the bed. Dimly, I could see the doorway, and moved toward it quickly.
"Lancelot." Jaru motioned me over to his side, forgetting in the heat of things that I didn't like to be called that. Gene and Rene flanked Milo, their swords drawn and their true selves showing, burly hulking masses of grey flesh that could be molded any way they chose. At this time they chose strength to protect Milo, who had his own sword out, but wasn't really much of a fighter.
"We've been set up." Milo said, looking at me, his eyes full of fear. He was guessing, but at this time I didn't really mind. It was the same educated guess I had arrived at.
"Jaru?" I looked at my partner. His eyes were veiled. The sword in his hand pointed at the door. "Look to yourselves, people." He said, his voice stiff. "I don't have time to explain."
The door slid aside. A huge slice of malevolance walked through the door. It looked human, but the Anima leaking off of it was corrupt, dripping pride and selfishness that was older than time itself, the foam of eternal disconent. It smiled at me and Jaru, glanced aside with a quick look of hunger at the prescient and shapeshifters.
They would be dessert, the look said.
"Gentlemen. Good evening." The demon said. It's voice was a composite of a thousand different ranges speaking all at once. Legion indeed. "Relax. Your presence here was desired by me. You wish to try to turn me. To that I am amenable."
"Nay! I abjure thee, get thee behind me, foul spirit!" Jaru said, drawing the symbol of infinity in the air with his sword, binding the demon to one honest answer, his name. I knew what came next and tensed to do my part. I would have the power to do the same once, and the answers needed to be induced by the right rituals.
"Please." The demon waved the binding aside. This was no Class Three! This was Legion itself. Danger Will Robinson! "Gentlemen. Don't be rude. You've been misinformed of my status. I am not a simple hybrid. Even you, Jaru."
"Why?" He said. One word said alot to me however.
I looked at Jaru in shock and sudden recognition. He was the mole. The xenophobic Anima of Gandra, its own private secrets hidden in a dry little mudball. The perfect cloud to hide such duplicity in...It all made sense now. The puzzle-pieces came together in my mind, and the picture it gave
"We want Lancelot." The demon turned toward me. "You would rather die than join Satan, though, isn't that right Lancelot, erstwhile First Knight of Camelot, presently in your fourth incarnation as a very dangerous serial clone."
"So then, demon." I mused. "Very dangerous. Illusion, telekinesis, earth-elemental strength with Wind-swift speed. Shape-shifter?"
"No He's a Class Three. Hybrid. Father is a Nephilim." Jaru looked at me sideways while driving, "Supposedly this one has gone rogue. We're supposed to try to turn him."
"Turn one of the fallen?" I exclaimed in disbelief. "You're kidding right? Tell me you're kidding..."
"Not kidding, Lance." His voice became tight. He was hiding something. Afraid. Holding it back.
I had a sudden thought. "They want to use him to flush out the mole..."
"I'm not sure we need Milo. You're pretty good at prescience yourself. You weren't supposed to know." He sighed. "There's some talk that you're a burnout. That you might be the mole."
"Well, I certainly am a burnout,"I laughed. "but I'm not the mole Jaru. I just want some time to think. Time I'm obviously not going to get."
"Here we are." We were at the hotel. "Get some sleep. We'll talk later."
"Okay, Jaru." I yawned. Sleep sounded good. There was no jet-lag like inter-galactic jet-lag. It was late for me even though the first of three suns was just dawning. No wonder this place was under domes. Three suns. Hot, hot, hot.
I remember making it to the room, but not much else. My head hit the pillow, and oblivion claimed me.
I think its rather an admixture actually, or everything would be perceived by our brains as upside down like its actually projected onto our retinas. The information is processed before its delivered as perceived by our consciousness. This example tells me that everything is filtered.
Besides anyone who has been under the influence of hallucinogenics knows (hopefully) that it isn't the walls breathing, its them...
Later that day, subjectively, we emerged from null-space, as the Techno's like to call it, since they don't understand how its done and anything they don't understand is assigned to the dubious and ambiguous number zero. Null-space. What I liked to call the foam. Some of my collegues called it the flux. Whatever it was, it was defined by the Technos more by what it wasn't than what it was.
It wasn't rational, for one thing. Time and space were toys in the playpen of the flux, bent to suit the needs of a Mystic like modeling clay. Here one instant, there another. Here and there being on opposite sides of the galaxy. Irrational. But it worked. That's all the Techno's cared about. Everything else they could handle.
I felt the lurch in my soul the instant we re-entered real time and space. I always hated that instant of disorientation in my Anima as my body adjusted to new sensory data.
Jaru and the rest of the team met me at the terminal. He looked as bad as I felt. Snendin wasn't the most pleasant planet for a druid, still in the primary stages of terra-forming to the point where everything was still largely enclosed in domes. Sterile air. No scent of nature at all. Desolate to the senses of my Anima. Depressing.
Vampires? On a planet like this?
How had the disease passed through the colonial screenings and scanners? Weres were harder to find because of the lunar vagaries of different planets. But Vampires? They were the undead. Very twisted Anima...
Hmmm. Something wasn't right. My instincts were ringing off the hook.
Gale and Rene were unusually subdued. They didn't look all that well either, but their Anima was of a different class than Jaru and mine. They were shape-shifters, not Magi. Their's was an innate expression of Anima, almost were-like, but for the fact that they were perfect mimics. Dopplegangers, and good at what they did.
There's a limit to madness, just like there's a limit to everything else. On the other side is a strange form of anti-sanity, that is rational, but irreverent. All rules are meant to be challenged, and all thoughts are but reflections of rules. A lack of rules does not denote chaos. Anarchy does not denote chaos. All this means is I have access to new ideas.
I can't understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I'm frightened of the old ones. --John Cage
Uriel knew I was burned out. A burned out asset is more of a liability in a Cold War than an enemy asset. I couldn't distinguish between methodologies anymore. To me, both sides were the same. Morality had nothing to do with it. Power and control were the ultimate prizes, and both sides were capable of allowing the ends to justify the means.
I was in a Catch-22. As distasteful as Jahweh and his minions had become to me, I could never side with Satan. As bad as Yahweh was in terms of Empire, Satan was even worse. He wasn't a reformer. He was a would-be usurper.
I flew my little butt to the spaceport in my new Chevy air-car and placed it in long-term storage. I didn't know if I would be coming back from this job, unless it was to be interred.
I was worried about having to work with Milo again. It wasn't that he was just a bad Prescient, he tried to cover that fact up with incompetent guessing to hide his mediocrity. I hadn't seen him since Rebecca...
I cut that line of thought. Let's just get this done.
I boarded the Pan-Galactic after going through security, the Anima scan of course freaking out the minute I passed through the hemlock archway. Security tensed until I flashed my ID. Special Investigator, Galactic Druidic Order. It had a nice ring to it for people on the outside.
The liftoff was at the standard five gees; I was glad of the acceleration chair provided. Suspended in the anti-grav gelatin, I hardly felt the crushing weight on my aged skeleton. The feeling of extreme weight passed. We were in space now.
I concentrated on spending my time meditating as the Technocrats gave over to the Mystics and we slipped into the foam...
It sounds like your registry is fried. You need a good registry cleanup in addition to these steps, otherwise your start-up batches will continue to point to programs that no longer exist. Disc cleanup is all well and good, but it often deletes files that your registry still wants to refer to. Until these references are cleaned out of the registry, your computer will be schizophrenic trying to remember the name of some actor in a movie it saw once but it cant remember the Theater or who it went to see it with.
Galactic_bodhi Forum Posts (9,196)
RE: Frittering
I fritter daily. I make a living managing useless details.Other than work, I keep my life as simple as I can.