Fulcrum Document Of Time

1^st Chapter:

That last one hit hard, really fuckin hard. Got absolutely zero idea of how long ago it hit or how long I’ve been on the floor, things that should be on shelves are all over the place and most of the chrome oxy-chutes are open and swinging, all contents of the control panel and side storage pods are strewn everywhere, fuse-ports flapping and hissing and spewing up harsh looking nano-fluid like a hungry mainline in jagged fucked-up glory,

That last one hit REAL fuckin hard.

She was the first one I ever knew to bring flowers..not for any special occasion, just as a random act of wanting to do something nice for someone else, just because flowers make a room nicer to be in and just because she exuded all things good and kind. She brought flowers and with that came sunshine, light and life. I can't remember ever saying such a thing, but I'll never forget my gut reaction to the fact that she randomly, without need for special occasion, brought flowers all the way from the market to my home.

Flowers would DAMN sure have made this fucking mess seem a lot less horrible, but it's been a long long time since anyone brought flowers to me for no particular reason, just for the randomness of it, and I don't think that is going to change any-time soon.

Ha! So vivid. Time has been kind to my memories at least, if not to me, but they remain like monoliths on an arid stretch of openness, beyond scope in every direction, without shelter or solace, amber by day and in cold, grey slo-mo by night. Prime-time viewing if I had the time. IF!

Thanks for the flowers, kid. Sorry I never even got anywhere remotely near to saying anything like that when it mattered, you were older than me but I'd lived more and I shoulda been looking out for you; if I seemed ungrateful..shit..I just wasn't used to stuff like that.

STOP BEING MAUDLIN.

I have no clue what to do, this is a very weird situation..err I'm kinda guessing that standard protocol has gone out the window (the same one that most of my supply of de-con'd re-filtered ionised oxygen has gone out of) and that direct action WILL be approved without the need to send reams of fucking idiot lumps of info about projected roto-scan duration and thermal-drive gamma readout charts blended in with purposefully restrictive system re-boots each time the Cx-16 GenCom is brought offline...that stuff seems more ridiculous now than it ever possibly could have and the irony is not lost on me, I'm just not in the mood to wallow in pathos, although that stage could make an appearance any-time and most probably will..

DIRECT ACTION TIME (encompass enchain)

There is a harsh but without-equal in pure, raw wide-open beauty, solar gust swarming in chromed-out ember-glow tearing mercilessly along the pipe-work, through all the gaping ports, around and across magnetic-reach modules and into my fried-out fucking desert of a brain and making emblems of other worlds so vivid and neon and true to themselves that I welcome it, I welcome the torture and the agony and the ripped-up savagery of it all, because it's essential that I see this as it happens and not through several thousand sectors of reconverted Saturn vapour, I should see this as it happens, live and direct, no matter what, no matter how very very bad.

This was meant for my eyes, the very same ones that are crimson like summer dusk through reminiscing when I should be acting and watching too much playback on the HUD holo-gen circuit, lapsing into unhealthy patterns of yearning for the past, a past recreated down countless miles of triple-insulated, oxide-free copper co-axial optic semi-solid nano-cable...damn that USB port holds secrets I wouldn't even tell myself..and this was also meant for my heart, heavy as it hangs in the valley below, flat-bottomed and glacial like the first and only part of the dream you can remember if you ignore the over-ride alert and flood the front section of the GenHeadGear with an aromatic but near-deadly blend of butane and condensed PreCog fluid (before it has had contact with the Group07 Core Plug De-Mag Routers...hey...I'm not a TOTAL dickhead :) ), dropping as fast as the vertical magnificence of the sheer headwall and then meandering to a point somewhere on the horizon that remains off-centre no matter where you stand, culminating in scenes from long ago when the roads were mostly empty, the lanes bustled with early attempts at commerce in a world not-quite-ready and skies that were allowed to complete their rotation before you saw the other bit of sky at the same time and witnessed sky paradoxes ...YES..these very same skies saw everything my heart had to offer and yet AND YET.....did that crimson thing every day at dusk during summer...two simple chairs under the back porch divided by a simple table, the three items overlooking the vast but simple valley..bear witness to how much we enjoyed this time of day.....

YOU ARE A TEST-ANALYSER WITH AN IMPORTANT TASK

There are no more reasons, not valid ones, to keep the pod shrouded in the cold lambent stillness of the emergency lights. That works on two levels, literal and metaphorical. I'm aware of this and briefly I smiled at the mechanics of language and the spells it evokes when used correctly; beautiful evocations..melodious patterns of mellifluous melisma, minor chords descending in sequences signatured by Walton and Vaughan-Williams. So with a heave and a ho and a rabid-animal growl, the Gamma shields depart their housing and lift from their hinges and are quickly caught in the noxious jet-stream of sulphur and water that is being ejected violently from the solfatara and warped quickly down to their base elements.

(Not for one minute did I EVER doubt their ductility..but man those shapes and patterns are positively mind-bending and beyond anything I can plot on my lazy vector and indices nano-frame..).

There they go.

I can see everything from here. Surprisingly, it's still early morning in the cosmos, despite the time-lapse sensors holding our position so that we make work in ultraviolet silence, the first rush of morning is still very evident.

I remember a time in 1985 when I kicked a girl in the leg because I liked her and then later that same day kicked water on the same leg from a puddle in the yard and now I have nothing left to do but trance out to a big beautiful nebula and watch playback of all this stuff on the HUD until it stops working, which is inevitable as the core-plugs are severed (yep, took care of that one a while back) and I have no way of re-routing power from the bridge and there is NO bridge left, just me.

So I'll trance out to this big beautiful nebula and hope something better to do comes along soon.

Thanks for the flowers, kid. They were beautiful but the most beautiful thing of all was you.