Post by q on Dec 28, 2011 3:16:01 GMT -5
What was my name? What was his name? Who remembered? Who cared? He called himself Q for question (a James Bond allusion, of course) or- most commonly- The Kiasyd for simplicity’s sake, in the absence of a proper name. Names. What did they matter? They implied knowledge and power and there couldn’t be two more banal ideologies. What’s in a name? Up yours, Shakespeare.
Q couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do. He had been “The Key” to this cryptic Fae prophecy and had indeed fulfilled it by at least temporarily uniting the realm of Fae with that of Earth and creating his own race of beings. That had been *most* entertaining. Many were horrified. Of course it hadn’t lasted. It wasn’t meant to. None of his plans were meant to. That would be too boring, too banal, too predictable.
After the last bout with Serpents, his arch-rival and occasional ally- Q had all his new toys demolished. Of course there were always the vampires and the humans. They were intriguing, yes, but doomed to trace the same circles of fate. All his homeworld of Fae feared him, so their responses were too predictable. And the dogs were all so tiresome as they were either constantly in heat or bent upon the world’s destruction. Everything was either tiresome, boring, or had been done.
What now? Where would this Agent of Chaos turn for some new experience, some new story? He was very old, very old indeed. There had been the school for the paranormally inclined of which he had been principal for a time. He still sat on the board, but that, too, had gone by the wayside. All the students had been most interesting experiments, even sometimes the most entertaining puppets and toys. But he was lonely, sometimes. Sometimes very lonely, now. His experiments all grew up or died or ascended or whatever. And he was never, ever personally responsible for them. They were never people to him so much as cases of intrigue.
He needed something else.
Q had spent time abroad absorbing as much archaic knowledge as possible. He also took the temporary sanity damge implied in studying mathematics and science. He even dabbled in politics. The Iranians would forever blame the Americans for the long-term sabotage of their nuclear program. Well, Q simply couldn’t let them incinerate Israel, the very pinnacle of religious mishmash hodgepodge ordered chaos. It was his summer home, and Q would be damned before he allowed a hive-minded, green-flag-waving people to usurp that wonderful equilibrium.
But a person was the last mystery he could think of, having unraveled governments and clans and bureaucracies and philosophies and theorems and novels and myths. On all his adventures, he had never really “gotten to really know somebody” as all the common folk seemed to put it. He needed one of those sorts of- he believed they were called relationships. Partnership? No, there was something too politically correct, too yawningly Marxist in the term. He’d have to invent the term, he supposed.
But what if he could find- not create (that would be too much control)- a person whom he could sculpt, but not define, someone he could talk to but find no need to dictate- too often. Etcetera. An apprentice? A student? A prodigy! The mate to one’s intellectual soul! Or, to follow all those wonderfully similar and yet terribly different Hollywood romantic comedies: one’s counterpart, the end to the line of a spirit’s serendipity!
Yes the spirits. He’d ask them about the soul needing guidance, who could benefit in some way from his... guidance. Someone he could rely upon. He knew he was very old. He felt it in his bones and day after day alone with his devices left him more barren inside than he could say. And so he needed to sleep. Or to live in the Pocket Dimension that he had slaved to embellish. Or to simply Not Be as much as possible. To hold his tongue.
Except jn regards to this outsider, perhaps the heir to his chaos. Yes, Q was now bent upon this idea, enamored of this person, whomever he or she may be. Let the search begin, and the new game! At last! A new game……
Q couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do. He had been “The Key” to this cryptic Fae prophecy and had indeed fulfilled it by at least temporarily uniting the realm of Fae with that of Earth and creating his own race of beings. That had been *most* entertaining. Many were horrified. Of course it hadn’t lasted. It wasn’t meant to. None of his plans were meant to. That would be too boring, too banal, too predictable.
After the last bout with Serpents, his arch-rival and occasional ally- Q had all his new toys demolished. Of course there were always the vampires and the humans. They were intriguing, yes, but doomed to trace the same circles of fate. All his homeworld of Fae feared him, so their responses were too predictable. And the dogs were all so tiresome as they were either constantly in heat or bent upon the world’s destruction. Everything was either tiresome, boring, or had been done.
What now? Where would this Agent of Chaos turn for some new experience, some new story? He was very old, very old indeed. There had been the school for the paranormally inclined of which he had been principal for a time. He still sat on the board, but that, too, had gone by the wayside. All the students had been most interesting experiments, even sometimes the most entertaining puppets and toys. But he was lonely, sometimes. Sometimes very lonely, now. His experiments all grew up or died or ascended or whatever. And he was never, ever personally responsible for them. They were never people to him so much as cases of intrigue.
He needed something else.
Q had spent time abroad absorbing as much archaic knowledge as possible. He also took the temporary sanity damge implied in studying mathematics and science. He even dabbled in politics. The Iranians would forever blame the Americans for the long-term sabotage of their nuclear program. Well, Q simply couldn’t let them incinerate Israel, the very pinnacle of religious mishmash hodgepodge ordered chaos. It was his summer home, and Q would be damned before he allowed a hive-minded, green-flag-waving people to usurp that wonderful equilibrium.
But a person was the last mystery he could think of, having unraveled governments and clans and bureaucracies and philosophies and theorems and novels and myths. On all his adventures, he had never really “gotten to really know somebody” as all the common folk seemed to put it. He needed one of those sorts of- he believed they were called relationships. Partnership? No, there was something too politically correct, too yawningly Marxist in the term. He’d have to invent the term, he supposed.
But what if he could find- not create (that would be too much control)- a person whom he could sculpt, but not define, someone he could talk to but find no need to dictate- too often. Etcetera. An apprentice? A student? A prodigy! The mate to one’s intellectual soul! Or, to follow all those wonderfully similar and yet terribly different Hollywood romantic comedies: one’s counterpart, the end to the line of a spirit’s serendipity!
Yes the spirits. He’d ask them about the soul needing guidance, who could benefit in some way from his... guidance. Someone he could rely upon. He knew he was very old. He felt it in his bones and day after day alone with his devices left him more barren inside than he could say. And so he needed to sleep. Or to live in the Pocket Dimension that he had slaved to embellish. Or to simply Not Be as much as possible. To hold his tongue.
Except jn regards to this outsider, perhaps the heir to his chaos. Yes, Q was now bent upon this idea, enamored of this person, whomever he or she may be. Let the search begin, and the new game! At last! A new game……