Descending Road - FERDINAND REPENTS by Dana W. Paxson

FERDINAND REPENTS

1529 4D

My eyes and mind open onto my feet in dirty little shoes scuffling toward a familiar unknown spiral stairway entrance. I am walking. This fact is so odd to me that I stop and sway, nearly falling clumsily against the stone streetwall at my right. My head pounds.

I stop staring at the street surface and look instead at my arms and my skinsuit. The suit is ripped and holed here and there as if I’d been dragged and beaten. Maybe I was. My inner trips to the Archives leave my body vulnerable to attack on the streets, even when I take care to hide. I was in the Archives with Talu Tribin. She was…

My mind stops and turns slowly. I was on my way somewhere when I went to Talu. I was on my way to see Jeddin, no, I’d seen Jeddin, he told me to find the Lady and I… oh, no. How long has it been? I start to walk, stumble, catch myself, and will my steps to faster movement. I must find her.

I pass a shop with its anjawing sensi spewing from a layered screen: three hundred seventy-nine dead in Signo 43‘s deep pit, all andros, banal appetizer outrage, while ROFI spreads the boring cream of neat news over the images of smoking corpses, and a clock flicks by.

The clock, Ferdinand, the clock: a day and a half since I left Bujilla‘s. Maybe Jeddin is still alive. Maybe it won’t be too late. I break into a run.

I stand on the engraved star under the center of the shining Aswal Guisanash dome, panting. A dead dog and two dead or sleeping humans sprawl in the street where I came in here.

“Allashani,” I whisper. From here the sound carries to her places. She’ll hear me.

“Ferdinand.” The low sleepy voice in my ear makes me shudder, but I know it’s her, answering from her hallways.

“Jeddin told me to tell you–“

“You’re too late, Ferdinand,” she says, and a hand takes my shoulder.

I spin and jump back, and she is there by me, her eyes heavy with sleep, her face drawn.

Her words ring harshly. “The Zashinhalh killed him. They left him to rot. A little boy found him and came to me. Now it will be many years before Jeddin returns to life. Many will die. Why did you not come to me when he asked you?”

“I… lost my way.”

She looks closely at me; her eyes gleam into mine. “Yes, you did lose your way. Your way is lost for a long time now. It will be bad for you.”

“Will Jeddin be all right?”

“Over thirty years from now, he will be whole again. I’ve seen to it. That’s the best I can do. If I were Zashinhalh, I could return him to life in an hour. But the Zashinhalh killed him.”

The need overcomes me. “But what will we do without him? We need him.”

“Did you need him enough to do what he asked?” Her words stab. “No. You needed Talu Tribin more, didn’t you, Ferdinand? And KPX and Met?”

How she knows all this I can’t guess. I don’t know what to say.

Contempt fills her words. “Go back to Bujilla‘s, Ferdinand. Go drink and drop and shoot and do whatever you do to fill your empty places. I need to rest now. I need to meditate on what happened to that little boy who found a body with its guts ripped out and its head still talking.” She turns away and fades down a side street in the dimness.

My stomach, so empty of nourishment and so full of self-hate, twitches and spasms; I throw up on the star at the center of Aswal Guisanash. The night crowds aside the dancing letters and words of the million confections I have eaten, and fills me with its stone-thick darkness.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	FERDINAND REPENTS 1529 4D My eyes and mind open onto my feet in dirty little shoes scuffling toward a familiar unknown spiral stairway entrance. I am walking. This fact is so odd to me that I stop and sway, nearly falling clumsily against the stone streetwall at my right. My head pounds. I stop staring at the street surface and look instead at my arms and my skinsuit. The suit is ripped and holed here and there as if I’d been dragged and beaten. Maybe I was. My inner trips to the Archives leave my body vulnerable to attack on the streets, even when I take care to hide. I was in the Archives with Talu Tribin. She was… My mind stops and turns slowly. I was on my way somewhere when I went to Talu. I was on my way to see Jeddin, no, I’d seen Jeddin, he told me to find the Lady and I… oh, no. How long has it been? I start to walk, stumble, catch myself, and will my steps to faster movement. I must find her. I pass a shop with its anjawing sensi spewing from a layered screen: three hundred seventy-nine dead in Signo 43‘s deep pit, all andros, banal appetizer outrage, while ROFI spreads the boring cream of neat news over the images of smoking corpses, and a clock flicks by. The clock, Ferdinand, the clock: a day and a half since I left Bujilla‘s. Maybe Jeddin is still alive. Maybe it won’t be too late. I break into a run. I stand on the engraved star under the center of the shining Aswal Guisanash dome, panting. A dead dog and two dead or sleeping humans sprawl in the street where I came in here. “Allashani,” I whisper. From here the sound carries to her places. She’ll hear me. “Ferdinand.” The low sleepy voice in my ear makes me shudder, but I know it’s her, answering from her hallways. “Jeddin told me to tell you–“ “You’re too late, Ferdinand,” she says, and a hand takes my shoulder. I spin and jump back, and she is there by me, her eyes heavy with sleep, her face drawn. Her words ring harshly. “The Zashinhalh killed him. They left him to rot. A little boy found him and came to me. Now it will be many years before Jeddin returns to life. Many will die. Why did you not come to me when he asked you?” “I… lost my way.” She looks closely at me; her eyes gleam into mine. “Yes, you did lose your way. Your way is lost for a long time now. It will be bad for you.” “Will Jeddin be all right?” “Over thirty years from now, he will be whole again. I’ve seen to it. That’s the best I can do. If I were Zashinhalh, I could return him to life in an hour. But the Zashinhalh killed him.” The need overcomes me. “But what will we do without him? We need him.” “Did you need him enough to do what he asked?” Her words stab. “No. You needed Talu Tribin more, didn’t you, Ferdinand? And KPX and Met?” How she knows all this I can’t guess. I don’t know what to say. Contempt fills her words. “Go back to Bujilla‘s, Ferdinand. Go drink and drop and shoot and do whatever you do to fill your empty places. I need to rest now. I need to meditate on what happened to that little boy who found a body with its guts ripped out and its head still talking.” She turns away and fades down a side street in the dimness. My stomach, so empty of nourishment and so full of self-hate, twitches and spasms; I throw up on the star at the center of Aswal Guisanash. The night crowds aside the dancing letters and words of the million confections I have eaten, and fills me with its stone-thick darkness.