Asylum After

The reader voices over the clock ticking down ~

"In 1794 Antoine Lavoisier was about to be decapitated in France.  So he told his assistant he would continue to blink his eyes for as long as he could to determine how long the head lives on without the rest.

"Because he was a scientist."

Whispered ~ "Caldera already occurred."





The release after Xenofix.  A hand before the kitchen window cracks an egg over the skillet.  The brief rectangular view of a city in the future, neither dystopian nor utopia. 

Just ... the world, in which we survived that long.  If one could imagine from this tiny frame it would be two hundred years til none of it mattered and now, history reconstructs itself.

But what of the Xenofix Protocol ?  What of the mind which reconstructed it all from the data present.  Which as complete as the archive was, compared to a completed reality, was sparse.

Leaps of faith.  Probabilities.  Dashes of entropy where likely it would have been, those outcomes again sorted by the same probabilities set deeper, cascading into fractal as they say all things are.

She did her best.

But with all other options gone it is as it is, so a hand cracks an egg over the skillet before the kitchen window, showing a world we already saw and forgot.

Approximately thirty seconds into the song (approximately) ~


~ Asylum After ~


Fast out the window to where the people walk backward too fast, becoming younger as they do.  Buildings deconstructing through these two centuries, inhabitants aging back to the their mothers today.

Workers flashing about in the progress in our sense of forward, performing the labors of these deconstructions but as sped as the rest in their reverse, smoke crosses the screen as the beast is exaggerated as a kaiju destroying the town.

A plate of eggs and toast set in the corner, a hand taps a pencil end on the corner in thought.  Erases the scene as the view moves in past the framing plate and silver.

From above airships crate in buildings in fours, creating some semblance of Midwich our day, the populace still walking backward into it before resetting.

A pause ... the sound of juice sipping then a splash of orange across the page.

"Fuck."

It begins again nonetheless.  Set to normal speed in what can only be described as the future's best guess of what our world must look like, in terms of how we would see life in 1824.

Frankly, when we think of 1824 in the imaginary sense, or any time in history we tend to lump everything around 50 years before and after, rounded.  So they will see us in 2224.

Approximately.

The period view here thus an amalgamation of everything in a skim version of history from 1970 to 2070 simultaneously.  Television shows, news, a fairly accurate list of names and descriptions, first period there ever was one really.

But as with the discrepancies of our imagination of any period, a fractal based calculation of what really happened will always be questionable, but definitive. 

Especially concerning a place like Midwich. 

Some things once answered, no one wants to be asked it again, for as many as would still ask.  And it's true, Caldera really does preamble a lot.  So with that, cheers to the director and until then, your own imagination.

A plate of mostly eaten eggs and bitten burnt toast drops on top of it all and Calder runs for the hovering bus in flashes, the people around her as imagined.

Technology apparent, the traffic outside still rolls in hot-rods and race cars, shooting everywhere.  Frankly this is how a lot of people see America now.

The bus itself a strangely deco thing, engines on the side like a harrier keeping it afloat, with never the intent of taking off.  But they do fine job of singeing paint, the rodders swerve to avoid them as one causes it to bob a it.

Fast through the doors of the Canon Club, the quieter day shifts more of a business lounge of conspicuous deals, where she sings ~




~ As though the orphanage children were continuing her rush, the chase the yard for the bell.

In what looks more a business lounge for a day, said business and it's pleasures spread before the stage, she sings as security beats a man down.  The future Librarian puts up his fight well but is stymied by the book he's protecting.

~ The children rampage the halls to avoid that tardy.

She sings to him indulgently, even sympathetically though unknown if it it's all for the show.  Either way that show includes his very real beat down.

~ Doors slam and lock.

She falls to his knees as does he, pouring her heart out to him with a tear as his ribs are kicked hard, the book wrenched from his hands.  His morale slumped head's then met with a fist and a black bag over it mere feet from hers.  He's dragged away for the elevator up.

She draws back tall for the song's musical solo, looking over the men in the room with flashes of that Polaroid, more shots being taken of their corpses immediately after, framed in the papers to look as more Polas.

Doing their dance.

She spins for the vocal return in celebration of their soon to come murders, her performance becoming more intense, then ends with a fist up and pulled down twice with the honk of a semi's horn.

~ The sound of a heavy driving though the rain at night.
________

Caldera notices the pool of blood on the floor with a glance to the open window framing the clock behind, Nergal giggling from his literal dog head as screams from below begin pouring ~

~ "Oh my GOD They are Literally EATING ME !"

Eresh - Looking at Caldera ignoring, "Yes ?"

~ "I mean Actually EATING Me !"

Caldera - "Um.  I'm.  Here for my check ?"

~ "There went my arm."

...

Eresh - Smiles bright, "Right !  I've nearly forgotten."

~ "That's my brains."

Nergal slams the window shut.

Eresh - "Your contract is up soon.  You can be honest.  Are you excited ?"

Caldera - Uncomfortably honest laugh, "I am.  I mean.  This place ... it's history ... I feel like I've seen a thing that never was.  An impossible jewel."

"That's what this is about for me.  Going new places and singing new things."

Nergal - "Well your very brave ... all things considered.  With the notion of bringing joy to a Hell.  But the fact is, you have."

Eresh - "You will be missed.  Do you think you will miss us ?"

Caldera - "I've thought a lot about that.  And most strangely, having accustom oneself to fire, I believe that I will in the ice."

The elevator dings open, a giant red demon cramped into it with the guards crushed to the side. 

Nergal - "Oh !  Ahhh ... "  He opens the window back up to the screams and zombie sounds coming in and jumps out.

Beast - To Caldera, "A moment with this one if you would."  Fire from his mouth, "Unless you want in on it."

She glances to the guards plastered to the elevator wall, shaking their heads no with wide eyes 'no ... '.

Caldera - "Um."  Smiles bright, "No thank you !"

The guards glance at her and each other as the elevator closes with her inside.