Kummer/Wishful Thinking pt3
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
“I will try,” Kummer replied. “No like Kummer say much to others. This most Kummer say in long time that anyone listen.”
"If you outlive me, which may well be so, you must, poppet. The story must not die. Only stories can be immortal, not clay such as we, and for a story to survive it must be sheltered and supported and protected against our deaths."
Kummer frowned, trying to follow her trail of conversation. “Ok,” was all he could think to say.
"In the beginning, there was only one line of Hybrids. We call them 'Alpha'. They were formed and counted and most did not wake up. Finally one awoke, then slipped under again. Another woke, and lived a while. Before it sank, a third awoke, and stretched, and stayed afloat."
On the surface of the smoke ball, a sinewy upper torso and head rolled up into view, stretched, and struggled to push itself away from the rolling ball. It had some sort of snout and curved, cat-like ears, and a very masculine build. As the ball rolled onward, the figure's form slowly dissipated, but he did seem to be pulling a leg free before he vanished from sight.
"The Makers in those days were not well sorted. They each had an idea of what would someday be, and their ideas clashed like lightning. Some strikes grew stronger, some exploded. They made another Hybrid that lived, added it to the first, and turned their thoughts to more complex ideas. Before the beginning there had been study; they took the learnings of the study, the remnants, and made a new kind of Hybrid. A great change. Change in time is 'Delta' in math and science, so this new kind of Hybrid would be 'Delta', great change in how a Hybrid is invented. Not really more complex, you see, but more ... this language is missing a word. More delicate to fit together. Strength in variety, not strength in the core." Her smoke ball formed something vaguely feminine, with a hint of elegant bat wings, but no snout or animal ears. It looked a bit like a nature spirit before it, too, rolled past a threshold and vanished.
Kummer watched carefully. His mind worked furiously on the information, sorting, analyzing. His older skills as a medical researcher leaped eagerly forward. The wolf man nodded. “I get. Is practical es’perimentation. Alpha be first generation. Then be control group for Delta. Delta second.”
"Mmm. I do not have a piece of the story that puts control in the Alphas. No. They are separate but marching side by side."
Kummer waved a hand slightly, “no, no … in English ‘control’ have many use. I use doctor or science use. Please ma’m, I get. Please continue.”
"Now the Makers divide at last. Some make more Alphas, the first ideas, but new varieties of them. A few more do not rise. Some make more Deltas, a slower process. A small group of Makers go off and make a batch of monsters, terrible things, trying to jump to the end of the process where true power will happen: the 'Omegas'." Her smoke ball converted most of its mass into a demon, something squid-like and spiky, that reached out everywhere to attack its surroundings before Sutra blew a bit of her breath on it to hurry its dissolution. "One Omega comes to the place of first making, to be the first Trainer. He is a nightmare in flesh, anima-eater, heart-ripper, contained only by his glad obedience to the Makers. A Trainer is to teach, but with the Omega it is always a test: test ability, test obedience, test learning, test the limits of suffering. Test the point where body or mind gives out, shatters."
Kummer nodded, quietly listening. “I get, I think.”
"The Lead Maker, the Designer, tries to make the Hybrids stronger by returning them to one another. Apart they have such easy break points that the Omega can wade through a puddle of mind fragments, ankle deep. The Designer cannot go back and make them strong enough, he does not know why. So he makes them give their strong places to each other. An Alpha is strong in the core, durable in endurance -- in these days were no bats, no squirrels, no prey. Body may break but the Alpha body will often grow back to function again. A Delta is strong in flexibility of action, of having many routes, durable in sorting away all the many pieces of the world that must be ignored in order to pass a test. Two Deltas, now, neither strong in body, neither able to work long in hard stress before collapse; three Alphas now, all scrambling against the things the world tells them that a human brain is not designed to know, all unable to shut off sensation whether it be pain or fear or scent or sight." The smoke formed five small figures, huddled together in the bottom of a bowl, rimmed around by tentacles that ended in scalpels or hammer-heads or branding irons, glowing in the shape of a lemniscate.
"The Alpha, so the old one said, guard the Delta; protect, shield, tell them all the thousands of threats the world makes. So many things to say, so fast, that they learn to say it with their whole bodies. More than the Omega learns to read. More than the Makers learn to notice. The Delta, so the old one said, have less to process: they can sometimes figure out ways to re-sort all the puzzle pieces when the Alpha start to drown, knit a ladder or a rope or simply hold fast until the sensation-undertow can be managed again."
Gradually, the edges of the bowl crept over the little tableau, but slowly enough to still have a definite hole before they all crossed the dissolution threshold.
"And, unplanned by the Designer, unknown by the Makers ... from the Omega, they learned viciousness. The Designer died, and a new Designer was appointed. The unit waited. The Makers sent the Omega to visit newer places of making, to carry his own tale of making tests and shattering Hybrids into obedience. The new Makers began to speak of separating the unit, splitting them to new places, to each form the kernel of a new unit and teach. They would lose one another forever. Better to lose by choice, the old one said, than to be ripped asunder. They knew the Omega would return soon, would test and force and punish and hunt out their secrets."
Her voice hushed further, barely above a whisper, and her cupped hands tightened to hide the suddenly-reduced hemisphere of smoke. Five little figures, their edges blending into one another at every point of close proximity, pushed and pulled and carried one another out of the bowl in the center of the curve. They attacked little stumps of heads around the edges as Sutra continued, "They killed the Makers. All of them. Even the new Designer. They broke the first place of making. They did everything they were invented to do except serve, and did it better than the Makers or the Omega had ever realized they had in their capacity. They got free over the bodies of their tormentors, all but two: the Omega, and the Master, neither of whom they could hope to withstand. They ran, and hid, and if it meant they must be apart then at least it was their doing."
All five of the figures raced for the edge where curved sphere became flat slice, vanishing as they did so. Tentacles rose up in the center, started to chase after them, but came to the edge too late ... except in one case, a last whip-strike just managed to catch a fading curve-eared Alpha.
"The old one said it was a victory and a defeat. New Makers were appointed. New Hybrids were created. That did not change, though the place of first making will never be rebuilt. The Omega project eventually failed. Only one of the first unit was ever brought back, enough for the Master to console himself against loss, enough for the first unit to console itself against loss. The caught Hybrid was brought to a new place of making, and adjusted, and used as a learning point and an example. The uncaught Hybrids stay gone, vicious, too costly to be recovered. Better left far away and alone. They are happy to destroy new Hybrids that get too close to their trail. But ever since, we have this link between the Hybrid lines: the Alpha are strong at the core, the Delta are strong in flexibility, and we cover each other's weakest points as best we can. We are together. All victims."
Opening her hand, she let the smoke dissipate at last. Her cigarette was burned down almost to a stub.
"You see Grigaere and his wolves. They need one another. They seem complete because they try to keep that little bit of completeness, of not needing, in case a Maker some day decides to try a new way and separate them. You see Ceylon Spinel, the Master's exotic ruby, who lends himself to no unit because he only desires to serve the Company. He wants his unit to be the Employees. You see the Dancer, who was made by a Designer to need no unit, but lost some of a Delta's flexibility in it. You have not seen how he has changed from his early days, but he has changed much. You see many Delta who have not been placed with an Alpha, because the Red-Coat Watchers have not been inspired to the best match. You see the Stage-Mistress, and her without a stage crew, trying to make Art out of a world that has too much smoke until she cannot see the audience or the ticket-takers. You see your book, and you think you will insist on being the before-self who does such things, and you do not see the need in this place for an Alpha who does see things, hear things, know the world more than a human can know it. Perhaps I will be the one to pass on the tale to someone else. It can happen either way."
Kummer was quiet for a long time when she finished. He glanced away then back to her. “Ma’m,” he said at last in a steady, calm voice. “Grigaere tell me things. Things about me. I have more than wolf, I have cat in me also. He call it a ‘broken kill trigger’. I think he wrong. I think it be something else. I no think it planned for, and it very vicious.” He watched her for a moment, then continued. “It not that I see need in place for Alpha who see. I see we should no be. I fight Vahz. I see me. I fight Lost. I see me.” He shook his head. “You story is good. I pass on best I can. You story tell escape can be done. Not easy, but can do. Might die. Worth doing in the try. Story also say, I no choice. I only better than smart dog. Cause first ones in story teach Company, too. An Company try fix. Horrible, unethical fix. No matter what Kummer want. No matter what Sutra want. Work till miracle and escape or die. Need think.” The wolf man looked away.
Sutra-Dhara stubbed out her cigarette, and tucked the remains into her left armor sleeve. "While you think away, poppet, remember one other lesson of the story," she instructed as she drew her feet back from the edge of the building.
“Lesson matter little to dog, Ma’m,” he said staring off at the setting sun.
She thumped him, hard, on the top of his snout with one knuckle of her empty hand. "Pain is already here, Kummer. You can wallow in it if you insist. Many do. It is a drowning that very few Deltas can hold fast against, especially if you will not try to swim. You are not the only one in the tide, sparkly wolfcat, not the only one surrounded by pain. Imagine if everyone only tended their own weaknesses, how strong would the Hybrids ever have been? How many would have remained to tell the first tale?" Sutra-Dhara came the rest of the way to her feet as though pulled up by a marionette string, turned, and headed for the roof access. "Lockdown in five minutes."
Like a wisp of scentless smoke, she was gone again, wandering along her imaginary path.
Kummer, watching her leave, said to the air, “is victims? Victim only because they no try no be. If accept victim, even victim together, then already lost to weakness.”
A deafening silence was the only answer. While the wind stirred his fur, the wolf man stood up, watching the last of the sunset. “I worry … too much … about what I no control. What may or may not be. Red-Coat assign … have to work with Sutra … even if I no like … no trust. Need find way to make work, somehow.” He shook his head. “Too much worry self. That no help anyone. Sutra have point, self-pity no help. Might apol’gize Sutra, not sure she get. Prob’ly better just shut up, keep head down, an have be what am, not what was. Time let go, grow up. Learn way of Hybrid. We all victim together.”
Taking one last look at his treasured book, he let it slide from his fingers and away off the roof. Walking towards the roof access, Kummer wiped away a single tear, then descended inside.
The next day, Kummer ran to that section of the ally behind the facility. He had gotten some sleep and time to think. Time to get his thoughts together. Get a clear head. He hoped he could repair a situation he soundly stepped all over with another of his near-devastating mood-swings.
He sighed in relief when he found the book. It was still there. He needed that, among other things. Wiping off the grime, he stuffed it into his jumpsuit, then raced off back the way he came searching for Sutra-Dhara.
He finally located her leaving the Delta common area. Fortunately, she was alone. He raced up and fell in step beside her. He let out a slow breath.
“Sutra?” he asked quietly; almost, but not quite, clawing his arm nervously. “I … apol’gize. Kummer stupid, stupid wolf. Sometimes … I get … hmm … lost in head.” He looked ahead with a frown. “Try not be dumb again. Really try. Will need help at times.” He said, deeply ashamed. He took a deep breath then silently let it go, along with trying to make that semi-constant buzz in the back of his mind leave him alone. “Want make fresh … want learn.” He smiled slightly. “Want be … want be poppet. Want more, not sure what call it.”
He hesitated a moment then asked, “please Ma’m, like make picture book with you? Proper one for Alpha. Kummer no idea where get parts, or how make. Dumb claws in way.”
She looked at him in surprise, not at seeing him there beside her but at an apparent change in conversational topic. "Prop book? Oh, those are not so troublesome a toy to make, poppet," she assured him. "Many productions, many years. It is in the repeat of the same work, trying to make a set that look different and the same, that we end up with fenny and brandy and a purple moon." Sutra thought for a moment about the process she had in mind, and it frankly should have been no surprise when she began her list confidently, "First, we will need some wire...."
Kummer smiled listening intently to her ingredient list. He hugged himself without immediately realizing he did so, or fully understanding why.
