fragment-22_a200131.Tel∅s.iras-to-corpus.msp
[NOTICE: PORTAL DISRUPTION. NEW DECANT FROM EXMUNDUS BY EMERGENT LANGUAGE ARRAY//REGISTERED HUMANOID SSL. TELØS? POSSIBLE ORIGINATION POINT FOR VERBAL SPREAD IN REFERENCE FRAGMENT 22//BEGIN VERIFICATION] [FRAGMENTED CORRELATION//MISSING SEGMENTS ANALYZED AS INFLUENCED BY N-RISK SHADOWSTATE] [BEGIN RECORDING]
EXT. CORPUS IMMORTALIA HIVE-ELQSH-9, CRUENTIS – DAY Shimmering rows of brilliant particles pass by. Scene resolves into a wide-grinned drone with a long snout whose two eyestalks are locked straight into the camera.
DBS350/OMN/STOCK MUTABLE MOTHER SUPERBENEI WELCOME ONE TO THE CORPUS IMMORTALIA, MARVELOUS YOUTH.
TELØS (O.S.) Hi.
DBS350/OMN/STOCK TOO YES! TELL YOUR MESSAGE TO ME, THE MAGGOT OF INFINITE JOURNEY THAT SPEAKS FOR THE MUTABLE MOTHER IN HER JOURNEY…
TELØS (O.S.) Quick – would you happen to have a treatment for N-risk vector contamination?
DBS350/OMN/STOCK WHAT? OH YOU MEAN FOR THE ARCANE ALCHEMICAL WARRIORS WHO CADAVER-LOYAL THE CORPUS IMMORTALIA TO PURGE THE MALALCHEMICAL METAPLAGUES, THE EXCESSUATING SLAG, THE SHITREAK-LEAVINGS OF THE N-RISK DESPOILER WHO HARMS SDUSAH?
TELØS steps into frame, a young man with messy brown hair that frays into golden threads at the end; these threads also dangle off of his limbs and extremities, and his eyes blaze with the same light. He is wearing a black trenchcoat, still ringed with frost, with shimmering circuit-paint on the side of his head.
TELØS Sure. Alchemy’s cool.
DBS350/OMN/STOCK VERY WELL! IMMEASURABLE TELØS FROM OUTKEEP, THE APOTHEOSAICAL SOURCE OF MUTAGENIC LOCI GOALWARD. ACCESSING…. INTESTINAL-CHORD-SACRED STRINGS….. RECURSION-DENSITY….. TRANSIENT TACHYON-FIELDS….. CORPUS EXTUMITOTICUS……
Strange particles part to reveal the EXTREMELY VARIABLE MOTHER SUPERBENEI. Her body is impossibly large, spread out in many dimensions at once; she is constantly in motion, never able to be checked into static-state, ever allusive and temporary, trailing leave, invisible in spectral micro-moments. TELØS looks visibly perturbed at the sight of her.
MOTHER SUPERBENEI TELØS, CREATURE OF LIGHT! ALREADY I AM SENSING, O MULTIFARIOUS PULSAR, A DANGEROUS INFLUX OF N-RISK MINDVIRUSES FROM YOUR MADDER-REALMS INTO OUR SPACE.
TELØS The danger is spreading, I’m afraid. I can’t filter it….
MOTHER SUPERBENEI I SEE! FORTUNATELY FOR YOUR CONTAMINATION, YOUR SCARS ARE FRESH AND CAN BE WASHED CLEAN. PASS TENDERLY THROUGH THE EXCREMENTAL DREAD-LALCHEMICAL INFERNO OF THE UNGENT AND PURGE YOUR MIND OF THE MOLOCHIAN FILTH.
TELØS I…don’t understand.
MOTHER SUPERBENEI YOU DO NOT NEED UNDERSTAND, ONLY NEED WANT. JOURNEY HERE AND COLLIDE WITH THE SOUND INTENSIFIER OF THE INFERNAL GESTA, THE UNGENTITE SAP OF THE PURGATORY SEA COUNTERCURRENT, UNTO THE MASSIVE BI-CUSPID CATHEDRALS OF THE PHENO-MENHIR HOUSING THE AUDIO-VISUAL PENTASCENTIFIC MASHRUM. PURGATORY-PUPIL WILL SHOW YOU THE WAY. HAVE NO FEAR.
TELØS Easy for you to say.
A large squidding drone, PURGATORY-PUPIL, enters frame. It wraps TELØS up in a dark membrane.
PURGATORY-PUPIL COME, LOST GIFT OF GAIA, AND FIND YOUR OUTCAST KEY THROUGH THE INFINITE FLOWERS OF THE ARCANE ALCHEMICAL LIFE-LIKE GARDEN BUILDING.
PURGATORY-PUPIL carries him away.
Tight black shell surrounds TELØS, woven thick with plastic iron, made of alloy and transmission. Screams of madness echo and somehow reverberate through his own mind. The shell flies and glides through moist cracks which open up like doors before it. The walls of the cave and meat-passage melt and blur.
TELØS So many lives colliding, contracting and expanding, reaching out…striking out! Each connection spins its own future, undulations of high-level intrigue, a microcosm within a microcosm, a speculative evolution of living confabulation….
…Suddenly, TELØS is ejected from the shell and coughing up blood. He looks up at PURGATORY-PUPIL.
PURGATORY-PUPIL YOU ARE DOING WELL. SURVIVE THE UNGENT PROCESS AND YOU WILL EMERGE VITALIZED, SCRUBBED OF VIRAL MUTATIONS, BORN AGAIN IN TRIUMPH FROM THE EUPHORIOUS MEMBRANES OF THE PURGATORY SEA AND THE BIOGRAPHICAL DREAMS OF THE FINAL BLAZE.
TELØS looks at the unappetizing sludge-pool and frowns.
TELØS Oh no. You aren’t going to…throw me?
PURGATORY-PUPIL smiles and opens its maw.
PURGATORY-PUPIL YES!
PURGATORY-PUPIL tosses TELØS high into the air. He crashes in the sludge and sinks to the bottom.
As TELØS sinks, a layer of kind-of-gelatin surrounds him like plastic wrap, chewing and drinking up his memories in its microbe-sized fangs. As the spheres blend, it bites into his eyes, but TELØS is unconscious. He dreams.
INT. PORTAL TO GREYSPACE – NIGHT
TELØS is laying on the hard tile. Around him stand NOCTOUS TRIANGLE, a crystalline being with flickering spheres fading into stars and gates, and UDOR SENIOR, a compact automaton with a glowing green flame inside facial-plate. There are also numerous egglike MOTHS that flutter and dance around the room, trailing brilliant strings which weave into the air.
TELØS is barely lucid, but able to speak at least a little bit.
TELØS Whuh….Where am I?
NOCTOUS TRIANGLE You are in a greyspace node where the vibrations from our own hidden space and the hidden space of your own realms intersect, abuzz with interstellar overspill and pull. In order to contact you across the network nodes, we have taken the liberty of re-writing significant portions of the existing space in the area to match a particular state-space receptor we normally use… yours.
TELØS That’s very kind of you.
NOCTOUS TRIANGLE We have managed to remove the influence of the N-risk state-space shadow contamination. At least, I think I remember we did.
TELØS Wait. That’s what the Ungent is for. I… I was thrown in. I’m dreaming…right?
UDOR SENIOR You are correct, mortal Tel∅s.
NOCTOUS TRIANGLE Though you, as a Weaver, should know that the difference between dreaming, being dead, being lost in the great Lattice of the Universe, or being wide awake is negligible.
TELØS But…
…MOTHS fly in front of TELØS’s face and cluster. Now they form a new face. It is the face of a woman, a young woman with brown hair that, like TELØS’s, frays into golden threads. Her eyes blaze with radiant light. Now she stands fully in front of TELØS, shimmering in a silver longcoat, but the other beings and the gate are nowhere. There is a look of recognition on TELØS’s face.
TELØS Hello, sister Weaver…
FIRST-WEAVER Hello, brother Weaver.
They clasp hands and look at each other.
FIRST-WEAVER (whispering) Come in closer.
The moths flutter back and forth, weaving lines between their bodies. As nets and nets are quickly woven, the strings drag them together as if victim in a spider’s clutches, until they are entangled in each other’s embrace and a new universe, spider web mesh of twitching threads and strings, erupts and ripples around them.
TELØS (whispering) The N-risk mutagen is spreading. Like…a story-space vortex. Idea-space influence….memetic influence. From Terran stories, memes, ideas spreading out of control through the multitude…taking form within the Weave. Colliding. Destroying reality. Dreamscapes reflecting, reaching, infecting the entirety of my First Orbit…
FIRST-WEAVER (whispering) You are a Weaver. You shape stories. You know the shape of memes. You can see the code of perceptions and shake the nexus. Blow up and disrupt. Blind and blindfold, together we can fight the shadow and destroy it at its core.
FIRST-WEAVER reaches into TELØS’s body, and pulls out something from within. It is strangely shimmering, like a galaxy or an idea. It forms into an object, a small object.
TELØS (whispering) What is it?
FIRST-WEAVER (whispering) It is what is. It is the blueprint, the path of Fate. The twisting heart of this story. It is the infinite Lattice, itself. Many-fold, fractally dividing downwards. It is the Weave. Time.
TELØS (recognition) …The Loom!
First-Weaver presses the shimmering galaxy-tangled weave-object into TELØS’s hands.
FIRST-WEAVER (whispering) You see it. Feel it. It is all hope. All control. Spin it. So long as you can shape the story…so long as you can weave it…you can do anything.
…FIRST-WEAVER begins to fade away, becoming one with the Moths. She cradles his head, smiling.
FIRST-WEAVER (whispering) Go forth, brother Weaver. Spread your story. Carry story within yourself and send it out amongst the weave and the passage to worlds, tremble the twisting path that all takes, reaches, through nexus and into the deepest noise, converge collider-clouds and wheelspace, weave the cosmic tapestry, the body of the Loom…
FIRST-WEAVER leans down and kisses TELØS on the forehead, even as she dissolves into moth-light.
FIRST-WEAVER (whispering) Now wake. You have work to do.
TELØS suddenly wakes. He is lying on the bank of the UNGENT POOL. PURGATORY-PUPIL stands over him.
PURGATORY-PUPIL WELCOME, FRIEND. YOU ARE NOW WHOLE AGAIN.
TELØS stands up. He is now purified.
TELØS Thanks. I…I must go.
PURGATORY-PUPIL WHY?
TELØS reaches out his hand, grasping a thread of reality with his mind, and takes hold of the nexus. He raises his head to the sky as the entire sky seems to ripple and bend. Then he holds his hand up and clenches his fist, latching on to yet another thread of reality.
PURGATORY-PUPIL WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
TELØS (smiling) Starting a new story. In a place where not even they expect.
He closes his eyes and smiles as the pathway spreads out before him and all he can see is the infinite thread-pairs of storytelling and multiplexistory, recursion and complex, chaos and growth, latching on and latching on, into the fathoms of quantum knowledge and weave, latching on to all the possible and their many-clustered unfolding envelopes with mysterious schemata knotted and reknotted, crossed and rewound over, woven and stitched, their hidden butterflies and glittering folds of cognition, endless positions and endless articulation, infinite and once, ever-present and eternal, waiting to be realized, waiting to be seen, waiting to be woven again.
And with these thoughts, he is gone.
[END RECORDING]
[DXV-AUTHEN/USER SUMMARY: ISO/W LAST-UPDATED DIARY ENTRY] [END REFERENCE FRAGMENT]
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