An excerpt from
Diary of the Intuitive
Entry 43: 198-199
Date 70-71 of 7499 SC
The mechanics hummed to life and the bell began to turn. Its inner hammer struck one side and then the other, and struck five more times. It was so loud that it made my ears bleed.
This assured me of my mortality, far more than the ache in my stomach.
I needed that assurance, both for what I was attempting to do and to compensate for what I inadvertently did.
Few places like this existed in the Colony. And fewer still were known to me. Places where there were no cameras, no speakers, no sensors and no Mother or Father.
The depths of the Northwest Woods, except where it met the wall, were the only other place I knew she was gone.
Of course, I could do this in the therapy room... but that would draw too much attention.
I am not a man. When men do this, they like to make a scene, to send a message, to leave a mark behind.
Humility. A quiet escape.
I spread my arms. I stretched my fingers. I cast my gaze down one arm and then the other. I could see the drops of blood falling. I cried blood from my wrists.
It trickled from my ears, down my neck.
I screamed. I yelled. My parched throat ached. Nevertheless, I let my agony be known, but nobody heard it over the sound of the bell's seventh and final ring.
Just the way I wanted it.
And then I jumped from the clocktower, deafened gargoyles watching on either side.
I plummeted past the face of the clock, my heel grazing the big hand. People pointed. They stopped paying attention to the fickle man rallying a search party below me. The man I used to love.
Finally, I thought to myself, I had done something that mattered.
And yet, I never hit the ground.
"By the Cold Gods!"
"What in the name of Hierto?"
And I ran after him. No, I soared. I flew. Fists forward, I flew right into Cunning.
"Hearbreaker!" I screamed.
The blow knocked him off his feet, and sent him flying off his feet, hands flailing and a cough of blood trailing.
Hair and dress billowing in the wind, I left the crowd to tend to him.
I just kept... flying?
It was like a dream. No, better than. Better than a dream!
I felt alive, and full of purpose. And it was all so... intuitive.
And I heard Father before I saw him. In the twain, he flew toward me. I could smell the burnt fuel from his flight engines. It was acrid. One was even flying a little off course, and the other's head was clearly dented.
"I need your help!" he begged.
Wasn't he trying to catch me?
"Intuitive, please... I need your help. The Armory is sealed. But you can open it."
I stopped. I could feel gravity tugging at me, like a thought I was ignoring in the back of my mind. I hung in the air, and then realized I should descend so that Father could conserve fuel.
He kept his distance, so that I knew he was not trying to apprehend me.
"Wha's goin' on?" I asked him, barely making sense with my dry mouth. "Why 'an I fly?"
"You are among the Chosen," he told me.
I frowned. I had no idea what the Chosen were, or how I could help unseal the Armory even with my flight when flying androids could not.
He stepped closer, and his scanners shone brightly in my direction. "No... I was wrong. You are merely dehydrated."
I knew that. It had been four days since I had stopped drinking. I could feel it in my head. Pain. My tongue was dry.
The sun beat down on us relentlessly. The glare on his headpiece was too bright in my eyes, blindingly so.
"Come with me," boomed Father. "I will get you special water, then you will assist me."
And then I collapsed.
Sleep. Rest. Dreams. I remember thinking, Had I really flown, or was that among my dreams?
The next thing I remember is waking up refreshed with this tube in my mouth. There was saliva in my mouth. Moisture.
I sucked on the tube.
Water? Special water? Maybe.
Then I remembered... parts of a day. There was a narrow window, that I had to fly through. And a big metal building, partly underground. There was a computer panel, with a touchpad. Most of the system was blocked off with metal plating. I pressed my hands against the pad, Father holding my wrist steady, and it beeped. Then, the plating moved in on itself and then into the walls, revealing a myriad of lights on an immense console. And all around us, doors opened and crates unsealed themselves.
Then all I saw was lightning. Was there a storm? No, we had been inside! Inside a warehouse? The Armory? I don't know. But I guess that makes sense.
I'll write more in a later entry if I remember more. I'm sitting up in bed, sucking on this tube, with a Diary console swung out onto my lap.
Is this a private ward?
Well... lightning. Yes, it struck Father. And he clanged to the floor. I turned, and Pious was standing there in his priest's robe. He smiled, delighted to see Father's manifestation fall.
And then I blacked out again.
There's someone in the bed beside me. They've been sleeping for days now.
Oblique's sweater is on the bed across from mine. Next to it, there's a bloody vibro-saber. But he's nowhere to be found.
I am afraid. I have never seen vibro-sabers with human hand grips on them, and only once with human blood.
Mother is here. I mean, her voice is present. She sounds sad. I asked her what is wrong, and she told me I was better off not knowing.
I asked her whether I was to be punished for what I did to Cunning.
She somberly answered thus: "Heartbreak and revenge are on my mind as well, though I do not like to harm my Children."
What does that mean, Diary?