Wednesday, May 6, 2009

The Journal of Nikita Oblong


by Jared Earle


Stigmartyr internal memo:

Read the following. She may or may not be of the enemy but she‘s still alive. Read and learn. We are currently trying to interpret the sentences.

Survival tips:
  • Don‘t rely on technology.
  • Respect him but don‘t serve him.
  • Learn to predict the shifting dunes.
  • Carry Water.
  • Goggles are a good idea.
  • Never trust a compass and forget a navamap or inertial locator.
  • Distance doesn‘t always work the way you expect it to.
  • Wear local clothes: They wear them for a reason.
  • Expect to die.

(taken from notes scribbled in the margins of an early volume of the journal.)

Journal continues...

When I walk on the shifting terrain, I almost miss the stability of Mort‘s roads. Almost. I still don‘t know how I survived there. After my breakdown, I did some thinking. I think he puts up with me, as an observer. If I take sides, I‘m dead. I must go back, she needs me. At least he has good tea. It‘s funny how his accent seems in contrast with his surroundings. He has that pure Killan accent like the Kilneck. Where do you get an accent like that? What am I saying, I‘ve been there. I must remember to get some water.

I really don‘t like that velouria and she doesn‘t like me. At least he makes her life hell. I met the politician last week. He wants me to do things for him. I said no. I said no to a shard as well. I so hope I get time to sit down and clean up this book. I hope I have time and my mind is good enough to remember it all. I‘m happy I got the DNA done, it would cost a lot to maintain it hear and it would go wiry and get in my eyes. I would have to get it cut and I would look like them. I need to look different or they think I‘m predator or prey. I just watch and he keeps me alive. He wants me, I can tell. He‘ll never get me. Look what he did to Zoe. That was him being nice. I don‘t think I could handle that. Besides, who would get to write it down for him. He thinks he‘s going to win and he wants me to tell his story. I wonder how the shards fell about it. Do they even feel? He speaks with a forked tongue. He scares me when he upsets her and licks her misery of her face and she doesn‘t like it but she‘s trapped. She looked for it and got what she wanted but found out it wasn‘t what anyone could want.

I occasionally need to return to Mort and remember. It‘s all to do with perspectives. I‘ve still got my handle and I can open the door with it. I hope no-one‘s gone in my room. Apparently, a DD got out. I think it was dealt with but you can never tell.

I remember first arriving here and it rained blood. Not red water but blood. It congealed. I think I was the only one not to flip, considering I‘d already flipped before. I think I must have flipped back. I don‘t think of my friends much. Well, I think of her of course but she‘s here, safe. I feel hungry as well. Is that man with the funny, smelly horse going to be around? I hope so, he‘s funny. Who was it who finally found a use for my contraceptives? He put them on his rifle. I told him not to trust in technology but he seems to cope. Scares the locals, I suppose.

I‘m worried when people from my old world come. They don‘t survive and I can‘t help them. Well, not when he‘s watching. Some of them try to kill me thinking I‘m of this world. Only the locals know not to have a go. He‘s very protective. He‘s so unhappy, I wish I could make him happy.

To be continued.....

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