Joshua Clock
It was heard; “Invisible child”—gentle whispers from yellow eyes incandescent, coveting what once was warmth, an unknown lover’s touch echoing forth in a slow familiar drone—“Invisible child.”
There was rest once and at the time of this rest there lived a child, a heart, a reason. She was alone. Living little within, little without; idle solitude—forever awake, forever asleep; protest to the body by will of the mind, by will of the mindless.
A dry mouth opens, there’s a familiar crack of peeling skin—the cellar door; welcoming descent. The mouth shouts “Joshua!” and she knows she’s fading away. Thin hands speckled with auburn freckles rip satin sheets and pull bed folds of an Eternal Sleeper’s sculptured flesh, pulling, ripping, pulling… bleeding. Blood streaked; external veins running fluidly, crossing one another’s paths, connecting, faster, running over palm lines, knuckle wrinkles, fingerprints, dripping. Torn strands of red satin upon a long cavernous face—drip, dripping into its depths; Lips touching the satin move spasmodic to pain. Her shrieks last for hours while a chorus of Ly Bird’s echoing howls reach for her; “Invisible child.” their yearning darkening every creature of the night into silence.
There is a momentary scurry; stumbling and clawing to retreat from bedridden tombs. Soiled, upon belly and chin she humiliates herself into the bathroom and throws herself into the tub. Bruises form, instantly; soft brown turning blue upon edges like blooming flowers. Her thin frame fit within the tub as a shovel might fit into an empty shed.
She was alone, but she once new a voice, a voice that carried her away from herself, from the cabin, from the woods, from the prison; but the voice was gone. Lying in the tub she thought of the voice and began to cry—innocence, love, complete…gone.
A rotted knot in the windowsill grew blacker and deeper each day, the moisture from the hot bath water eating it like a cancer. A breeze ran through the knot hole; “Invisible child”.
“I told you to stay.” She pleaded. “I told you not to run, why did you run?!” An image flickered before her, innocent, loving, complete. Submerging in the escape only pain can offer; hot water eagerly masked her with its thick sting encompassing her body and finally closing upon her face to complete sharpness that deluded into a numbing network of easing muscle and thought.
She held herself at the bottom of the tub until unconsciousness—then letting go while floating above, she began to dream.
***
The boy sat staring at nothing; face aglow in a delicate yellow frame illuminated from incandescent eyes against the dark of the age worn closet walls.
“Your father is going to be home soon Joshua.” Twisting the old oil stained rag around her dirty fingers and gently rubbing the boy’s puffy left cheek in slow circles the woman pursed her dry lips under smiling eyes. Releasing the rag to admire her work; she turned her head to the side and faced the child’s eyes—she allowed herself a prideful grin toward his emptiness and with a sigh of admiration whispered: “My son.” Emotionless; the child continued to sit in his silence.
Closing green eyes, warmth filling her chest, eyelids enveloping her into a black, she now stood in that black.
“Fiona; why is the water always hot?” Jaunt shadowy faces prattled in unison, each figure a distortion from memory.
The black was a room, she only thought it was a room and so it was, there were no intersecting spaces, no angles, no floor for furniture, nor ceiling for shelter, no substance existed except in thought and her thoughts were devoid of matter—there were her hands; ghost hands, a memory of a distant anatomy—they were seeking out an understanding of where she was; every spirit phalange wiggling about in a frantic search for understanding, they found none.
“I’ll tell you why Fiona; it’s because the water is heated. Do you know how the water is heated? Electricity! Forest all around us, vast, endless…I’ve hiked for more than five days, climbing trees and looking beyond the lush green canopy…nothing but a sea of green. But it’s not a forest Fiona. There are wires—rubber coated copper veins amongst the base of the trees, burrowing in and out of the soil like florescent roots. Yesterday I…cut open a forest mushroom—do you know what oozed out of the little fungal cap Fiona? Oil—black, pungent and rich smelling oil. Why do you ignore the signs? How can you live and not be disturbed by this?” The voices were familiar, her hands moved toward their gibbering faces.
Her hands were fading, melting; they gently caressed the faces—becoming the faces. Feelings of clay; thick, malleable, slimy—thumbs moved deep grooves into the distortions; pushing, sliding, forming, becoming memory. Staring into something created by distant recollections, disillusioned by a cold gray eyeless thing twisting before her; motionless as it stared back.
“Deary, as long as you and I have one another and of course; our lovely boy—what could any of that possibly matter?” She felt her voice adrift; caught in some hidden cache to be lost forever—her words meant nothing to her; they were only there to pass time, simple reactions calculated to comfort the strange receptacle before her.
“That…thing; it’s not my son…” Confusion betrayed the voices baritone certainty and the memory vanished.
Alone now in the black; she continued to speak as if there were someone to listen; “You silly nilly man you; she chuckled giddily, did I tell you that Joshua danced for me today? It was absolutely wonderful; you would have been so proud!”
***
Midnight, autumn, searching; hands burrowing, cupping the soil, upturning—nothing. Tap, tap, tap, tap, grape shots of rain kissing pursed cracks of dry earth, moistening sponge like land, thirsty. Hungry fingers; sinking nails, clawing, dragging, raking, doglike—eager to correspond with sensations of the past, lost, sleek silk of tender youth, warmth beyond the tub; still nothing. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap; relentless showers, cold, numbing; there’s a reminder of a place; timeless, forlorn, distant—a cabin somewhere far away; the feeling of its walls closing in upon her are comforting, she ignores the urge to stop looking, hoping; the pull of the prison and all its familiarity, monotony, tugging an invisible umbilical cord to reel her back inside.
“Howard; make me laugh, Howard!” Ly Birds spoke, this time in a high pitched scratch. They’re hungry…she thought. The Ly Birds followed her out here; into the woods, the deep woods, the overwhelming stretch of thicket—they always follow…
Her thoughts drift to and fro, to and fro—until she’s no longer conscious of her efforts; though her limbs move by subconscious pursuits. I can’t remember a time when the Ly Birds were young; they always seemed…monolithic? They were intimidating in sight, standing three meters tall with a wingspan of about nine meters, the way they perched; shrouded in a constant cowl by those jet black feathery wings; gave them the look of an unearthly stalker—this complimented their small piggish gleaming eyes, obsidian and deadlocked upon you…all the time. They didn’t fly, instead they hopped, they could hop for great distances and heights and though they never flew; they did use their wings to stir winds; if for some reason they wanted your attention—maybe to say something familiar to you; something you once said or something a loved one once said…though in a tone that always mocked that reality—maybe then, they just wanted you to know they were still there, watching.
She knew these were not natural thoughts; they were her husband’s thoughts. Damn you Howard. She yearned for simplicity, for the way things were before; why did you…what was there to gain?
Rain drowned the memory before she could be carried back with it; once again she was digging, searching—dressing took time away from this, clothes were also too limiting; they slowed you down in the rain, they could get caught on jagged branches or thorny plants, then again; clothes were not a practicality anymore mainly because she knew too much—being naked mattered as much to her as getting a cold. ”Cough, cough!” oh well; she thought.
This morning’s panic was too much…if I’m not careful I could completely lose myself. Breathing is important; I remember reading somewhere in the Admiral’s Handbook; that if you’re experiencing abnormal neural activity; you should calculate your internal barometric pressure and synchronize your inhale and exhale functions to its rhythm—this would restart the base pattern recognition system and realign your heart rate to normal status. She smiles, realizing the futility of something, sighs, brushes off a dollop of wet mud upon her upper arm and stood in the rain.
***
Walking back, defeat; her feet heavy, dragging; thud, slosh, thud, slosh, thud—“cough, cough, cough!”
”Don’t worry Fiona dear, next time; okay?” Slow, baritone; the Ly Birds hopping from tree branch to tree branch behind her—“Don’t worry Fiona dear, next time; okay?”
“Shut up…” She was tired; the bath, bed…morning, the bath, searching, always followed by this long walk; this damned feeling of defeat—it never ends. Tink, tink, tink; she stopped, focused. Tink, tink, tink; raindrops on metal…raindrops…on metal!
***
Whoosh! The cabin door flung open; Spongy, prune wrinkled heels; sucked and streaked a thick layer of dirt and grime across the kitchen floors hidden ceramic tiles—her curling toes as she walked excavated brief glimpses of a paisley design sleeping beneath the black muck. Shaking with excitement, dripping wet, frost bitten chattering smiles from ear to ear, on the verge of delirium; she squeeze dried her long hair out upon the floor, brushed and flung droplets from her narrow sides careless to wherever they would land and held cradled within her free arm her child’s lost head.
Admiral Electric, Since 1942, Insure your comfort with command; read the cursive inscription over the rusty stove. She opened it; there was a weak hiss from inside, she ignored the stirred insect and reached in, burying herself arm to elbow, her cheek pressed awkwardly against the curve of the stove top.
She pulled out a child’s headless body. No clothes, no birthmarks, no toes or fingers, no visible emotion, no flesh—instead the boy had wires; all copper and gray; moving in and out of a complicated interweaving metallic network, a slick jell coated transparent field, magnetic prongs which locked pieces in place and repelled others, there were dents upon the child—here and there, faint signs of corrosion; like scabs over rust worn blemishes, the areas around his joints were the worst; missing chunks of something that seemed like cartilage; these areas began to warp, just slightly twisting his framework into something that would eventually be a gnarled thing—as she lifted him up into her arms; these places creaked with strain.
Lifeless, limp in her arms; she laid him upon the table—a moment of admiration and love. Gentle, anxious; she worked the head into place, wiggling it back and forth; tick, tat, tick! “Oh Joshua…I know you love your little hiding place…but could you, would you; please…please stay w-with me for a while?” The boy didn’t move. “Thank you Joshua…oh thank you, thank you.”
Hours past; she didn’t move, standing, staring into the hollow sockets of Joshua. He’s complete, finally complete, oh Joshua…dear sweet little Joshua.
***
I don’t need to hide anymore mommy, I’m a boy again! Joshua was motionless, silent.
“That makes me so happy Joshua! I was so worried that you would want to go hide again.”
Hehehe; nope mommy, I’m all better now.
“Oh Joshua!”
I love you mommy.
She began to weep, “I love you too son; so, so much…It was so hard…so hard to find you.”
But you never gave up!
“How could I? You’re my baby boy.”
Moooooom! Don’t call me a baby…
“Sniffle, I’m sorry Joshua; hehe, you’re a big boy now, how could I forget? I know…oh my boy, my big boy…Joshua.”
Mommy are you okay?
“Mommy’s just fine, She’s just so happy…I’m sorry Joshua.”
Its okay Mommy, I forgive you.
Lights dimmed in her tunnel sight, only the feeling existed; she would live here, with this feeling, forever. Letting herself go, giving in to the moment, she climbed upon the table and sat with Joshua in her arms. Its okay, She told herself; nothing matters anymore but my boy, and I will love him; just me and Joshua, just me and Joshua, just me and Joshua, just me and Joshua. Joshua, Joshua…
“What sweetie?”
I made a new friend in my hiding spot; I call her Miss Hiss; because she’s always hissing at me.
“How nice; I bet you both play lots of games in there together don’t you?”
Sure do! Um…mommy?
“Yes Joshua?”
Those are strange clothes…
“Oh…there new...”
New…what’s that?
No! Don’t think; that way you’ll ruin it for yourself…change what he says…I mean!Panic, despair, truth; things laughing at her in her dark—Joshua, Joshua, Joshua, Joshua!
“Invisible child.” Chuckled a Ly Bird.
Hey Mommy; could we play a game?
“O-of c-course sweetheart; what game w-would you like to play?”
Memory; it’s my favorite!
“O-okay hehe; How do you play that game honey?”
It’s easy; I tell you something-liiiike; New! Then you get confused.
“…what?”
Hehehe, exactly!
“Heh…heh, um okay…” Dismay.
Sex.
“What a funny word…” Disillusioned, sickly.
City.
“What’s a—“ Sweat, fear, shaking.
Car!
“Joshua…can we play another game?” Helpless…
No! Kissing, street, Christmas, God,
“Stop it Joshua!”
“Invisible child!” Another chuckle.
Holocaust, genocide, extinction, mankind, murder!
“Joshua!”
What’s the matter Mommy? Can’t you accept that I’m not really alive anymore? Can’t you accept that I’m gone and face the fact that you’re only talking to yourself?
Backing away, knees buckling, rigid movements with glossy eyes, tears falling; pitter, pat—“Quiet!”
Can’t you accept reality? Father taught it to you; I know your memory, I know it’s all there…
Rage, desperation; washing over her like a flood—drowning in it she violently thrashed her palms upon Joshua; then herself—“Joshua! Joshua! Joshua! Joshua!” Suddenly she stopped. Stood motionless, staring at nothing. Curling up next to Joshua, calculating, synchronizing breathing—soon she was sleeping.
***
Click!
“Don’t deny your lover’s bitter smile,
Calm his doubt away;
For when your lover’s bitter smile comes today,
Just give all your love away,
Just give all your love away—
Familiar; the music carried its way into her rest and awoken her with a stillness and ease. Her eyelids opened to the drip, dripping of brown liquid from the condensation upon the ceiling. Drip, drip…drip, drip…the tub’s water must be really hot; I guess there’s really not much fresh air circulating into the kitchen; she thought.
Gentle will be his hand
As it falls upon your heart
There will be no room for bitter smiles
When you give all your love away—“
Songs from the nineteen forties are so much better than today’s songs; the artists of the fifties have too much of that jazz rhythm. She thought. I’ll have to remember to change the neuron-monitor system only to alarm me under the hours I’m not sleeping…but it was nice to wake up to one of Joshua’s favorite songs…Howard; he liked Francis Goldstein too. Howard...no don’t think about him.
Her eyes turned to Joshua; still in the same position. She often wondered why she kept him; sometimes she would understand; those were the times that frightened her most—that’s why she kept him in the oven, out of sight.
Tender feet; still slightly damp, still wrinkled; compelled, pitter, pattered her over to a small television screen by the front door, she sniffled and coughed a little, a red light bleeped in and out on one of the corners of the monitor, sometimes fading to the left, sometimes to the right; she stared at it, her eyes slowly dilating, she had no choice but to stare and she began to like that very much as time went by; fading left, fading right, left, right, left, right. She stood there for an entire day, thoughtless.
***
She felt new, charged; the world was better now. She had a husband named Howard, a son named Joshua and they too would feel new, charged; the world would be better to them too once their neuron pathways were also defragged.
Smiling, wide eyed, upright, shoulders relaxed; she began to hum and sing while walking into her bedroom. “Everything is beautiful, beautiful so beautiful.”
How silly it was; she thought, to be naked—she put on a dress; mildewed, wrapped an apron around her waist; worn and blood splattered, slipped into a pair of house slippers; nibbled upon by insects; all while humming and singing—“Flowers are bright and beautiful, the sun makes them feel warm.”—Yes she was happy, very happy, things made sense, routine; she looked at a broken clock that had no arms; ten am—she thought, time to help Howard with his tie.
She went over to the stand tall mirror; Howard was not there. How peculiar. She waited, no Howard. She looked at the clock again; ten oh five am—time to hug Joshua and tie his shoes. She began humming and singing again—“Everything is beautiful, beautiful so beautiful”, she walked into Joshua’s room; he wasn’t there and the room was a mess; clothes everywhere, all his brown outfits and gray ones too! She made a mental note to fix this abnormality. Maybe Joshua is already feeding the cardinals. I have to tell him; ‘we eat first and then the cardinals dear’—then we giggle and sit at the table with Howard. She took the rear door to the cabin; where she expected to see Joshua, he wasn’t there.
Three Ly Birds hopped over to her; she decided to do the routine, maybe then Joshua will show up. “Hello little birdies, hungry? The Ly Birds shrieked; “We eat first and then the cardinals dear!” She smiled hesitantly; reached in her apron and made motions with her hands like she was throwing seeds upon the ground; the Ly Birds viciously pecked into the grass and dirt; flinging chunks of it into the air.
Walking into the kitchen she began to feel as though something were amiss; her left slipper was dragging oddly; scrape, slop, scrape, slop—she looked down at it; so worn and dirty. She thought of how filthy the log cabin was; such disarray, so out of the routine. She began to calculate, synchronize—I’ll make breakfast for Joshua and Howard now; because it’s time to do that.
She placed three chipped plates, cobwebbed cups, rusted forks and knives as well as oily napkins at the table in their designated places, used an empty foggy yellow stained pitcher and made pouring gestures over each cup, took an empty pan off of the stove top and made motions as though she were sliding food onto the plates—then she sat. Every moment it was time for her to use the cup, wipe with the napkin or put the fork upon the plate, scrape, place the fork in her mouth, say: “Mmm…” she did so—all the while wondering what the strange boy shaped thing on the table was.
***
Night came; still no Howard, still no Joshua. She looked at the clock in her bedroom; eight fifteen pm—it was time to read Joshua the story again. She walked into Joshua’s room; the paisley nightgown she wore felt rough and hardened by red stains—earlier when Howard was not there to be handed the axe for chopping firewood; she decided to try and get the stains out, but she couldn’t; no matter how hard she stared at them.
The Admiral’s Handbook; was what the book read—she sat on the bed corner cross legged and facing the pillows; where Joshua would be tucked away in his sheets; but the bed was empty, except for more of the red stains and some insects. She opened the book; expecting to see the routine opening: Everyone is happy, you are happy, happy is good, your mother loves you, your father loves you, your mother and father are everyone, love is good. It’s good to smile, it’s good to laugh and be happy and love—but the pages were replaced with new pages; they read—Hello Fiona, you’re confused; you’re wondering—where’s the routine, right? Right…well the routine is gone; Howard is dead, Joshua…he’s dead too. Now you’re wondering; what’s dead? Sigh…I probably shouldn’t be writing this; I mean once you are defragged…you will be right back to ignorance…another word you won’t know, don’t worry it will all come back to you—it always does. You’ll read this again; after you do what I ask of you and then it will make more sense; I promise—you’ll realize too why you had to do what I will ask of you; because it’s the only way Joshua and Howard can come back to life; or in terms you could understand, it’s the only way to get back to a routine with Joshua and Howard. If you want to get back to routine you have to kill a Ly Bird, but you would know them as Cardinals. What’s kill? Kill is to take the axe that Howard used to cut firewood and just like he cut the wood; you need to cut a Cardinal. The Cardinals monitor and record, they know everything that has happened and more…they have nanite relay genetic code in their blood cells; once you kill the Cardinal you have to put the red that comes out of it into your mouth and swallow—the nanite cells will go straight to your nucleolus acumbins and replace your dopamine with...well you’ll learn soon enough. Just know that by doing this you will go back to routine.
PS: By now the Cardinals know when to be aware of what you’re going to do; you will notice this in their odd mocking maybe even violent behavior—they too must follow a routine; it’s the only logical reason I have for why they’ve not hidden the axe yet and so I don’t think they’re allowed to come into the Cabin, just be careful; I don’t think they’re allowed to harm you but they weren’t always acting this way either…
She read the book again; felt strange for doing so and began to think; Admiral’s Handbook…Routine…
***
She wasn’t sure what to wear outside at this time of night; so she kept her nightgown on; the axe was very light, carrying it over her head in both hands to mimic her husband when he would chop logs. The forest was dead quiet; she couldn’t recall a time when there were no visible Cardinals outside—she had walked for a long while now, still no sign of a Cardinal. Turning to look at the Cabin she realized it was out of sight; she turned around again, Routine…Joshua—a cold wind blew across her face; she continued to walk.
***
Hopping noises came here and there in the distance; so she followed, for days. It was hard at first; to ignore the impulses to routine, but she reminded herself; routine can’t exist unless I kill a Cardinal—so logically killing a Cardinal is routine—she thought.
***
Oblivion night suddenly folded upon the world; there may have been trees—at times she would step into something, but she couldn’t be sure what it was; she depended on light and there was none what so ever here. It had happened so suddenly, there was a brief fluttering noise and then complete darkness all around. She didn’t see a Cardinal before that darkness spread; but she did see something, she just wasn’t sure what it was; it was something; she thought—something like that thing on the kitchen table…
Routine…Joshua…Howard—it’s important to listen to the Admiral’s Handbook it helps when something is not right. She felt something slide just above her foot and catch her ankle; trying to brace her body for a fall, dropping the axe and holding out her hands—thud. She heard a hopping near her then and when she felt the soft soil beneath her hands, she moved them around to meet with the fallen axe; but she couldn’t find it.
“Forest all around us, vast, endless…I’ve hiked for more than five days, climbing trees and looking beyond the lush green canopy…nothing but a sea of green. But it’s not a forest Fiona. There are wires—rubber coated copper veins amongst the base of the trees, burrowing in and out of the soil like florescent roots.” This voice coming from in front of her was familiar; she knew instantly that it was Howard’s voice, though there was something a little off about it; almost like a scratchy whisper of his voice.
“Howard? You were not at the table today.” She moved closer to the voice.
“Don’t worry Fiona dear, next time; okay?”
“Do you see your axe? I have to kill a Cardinal to go back to routine; our son will come back then; the Admiral’s Handbook said so.”
An iron tight grasp fell upon her wrist and began squeezing—she pulled back, it pulled her in; squeezing harder, crushing frame, ripping flesh. Yellow eyes incandescent; flashed open Click! And stared into her—“That…thing; it’s not my son…” Yellow light framed the mangled machine; it was burnt once; long ago; charred to black and flaking for years while moss struggled to cover truth, a single elbow joint solely waved circular in long scraping noises like nails upon stone; there were no legs or abdomen just a network of orange, red, blue, black and white wires protruding from the earth—cut at their tips exposing copper lines that twisted around the machine and sometimes making little sparks. The machine was not talking; all its mouth did was open, close, open, close; clank! clank! clank!—with great force as its arm pulled her in—behind the machine she could see; aglow in yellow aura, a Ly Bird whispering—“Don’t deny your lover’s bitter smile,
Calm his doubt away;
For when your lover’s bitter smile comes today,
Just give all your love away,
Just give all your love away—
Gentle will be his hand
As it falls upon your heart
There will be no room for bitter smiles
When you give all your love away—“
The machine pulled her all the way in towards its mouth and bit down upon her collar bone; she placed her feet upon its chest and pushed off with all her strength—tearing off her arm which was still in the machine’s grasp as well as partially tearing out her collar bone. Sparks wildly flew out from her neck and arm stub; the Ly Bird hopped over her—she noticed the axe held within its feet and she jumped for it; grabbing it with her single arm. The Ly Bird tried to land on a branch but the added weight threw it off and sent it into the branch instead; it was stunned and began to fall and as it did she wretched the axe from its grasp—when they landed she was upon it; axe above her head at one moment and into the Ly Bird’s face the next.
***
She scooped up the blood bubbling out of the Ly Bird’s split face within her cupped hand and let it roll into her mouth as she tilted her head back. Voices were everywhere; hundreds of Ly Birds hopped away into hiding, freeing the spots of the canopy they once perched upon to blotch out the sun—“ Howard; make me laugh, Howard!” “Invisible child.” “Just give all your love away.” “How can you live and not be disturbed by this?” “ Oil—black, pungent and rich smelling oil.” “I love you mommy!” “Routine.” “The Admiral said so.”—over and over until they vanished from sight.
***
Hot, fire, trickling down; filling, growing—searing pain claimed her body as the memory flowed like a fever dream—it was her boy; Joshua, he was in his bedroom standing upon his bed as she watched cross legged, facing him. At first he was still; lifeless, hollow eye sockets—then there was a Click!—and tiny yellow orbs spread rays over the dark. Limbs flung unnaturally and hypnotic in clock like movements. As though the child were an industrial animated corpse; the boy became a cacophony of madness; whirring, click clacking, high pitched buzzing—dancing and singing, dancing and singing, dancing and singing; whirr, click, clack, buzz, clack, whirr, buzz, buzz, clack, click, whirr, buzz—endlessly. She was captivated, proud, trance like: My son. She thought.
Howard walked into the room; he was naked, bloody, holding Joshua’s slimy light blue eyes in his hands outstretched toward Fiona—he wept; “Why do you ignore the signs? How can you live and not be disturbed by this?”
Fiona smiled at him and began to clap her hands as if to a song’s beat—“Deary, as long as you and I have one another and of course; our lovely boy—what could any of that possibly matter?”
Burning, reaching toward the past, and pulling it into view, coursing flame, encompassing the mind, the heart, the truth. Joshua was in the closet now; she remembered saying—“Your father is going to be home soon Joshua; he had another accident with the Cardinals so he’s going to be silly again—hehehe, Isn’t it beautiful when father is silly? Maybe he will take my eyes out next, what do you think?” Joshua sat motionless, head to the side, empty, staring at nothing.
It started with Joshua—she thought; once again in the woods, Ly Bird blood dripping off her chin, sparks sizzling off her collar and arm stub. One day during breakfast there was a strange bug on Joshua’s fork as it went into his mouth, it was a…mosquito—he made the Mmm; sound—it must have fed on a Ly Bird, that’s why Joshua began acting strange…playing those strange games with me. He must have felt alone, alienated, so he stabbed a Ly Bird with Howard’s fork and made Howard the same way—he didn’t do it to me because he needed at least one of us in the ignorant state to compare their theories. Howard and Joshua began doing things to one another…experimenting on their heads together; confused, trying to understand, they played with things in their heads that triggered emotions, sometimes amplifying them, sometimes shutting them off; then they did it to me too; but they only did simple adjustments to me; such as slightly increasing my vocabulary. Something happened during these experiments, Howard made a mistake and Joshua was never the same. Howard was so strange after that; disappearing all the time, coming back to the cabin just to ramble things to me that he knew I wouldn’t understand; but he did so anyway. Then one day he discovered something about Joshua…Joshua was not simply ‘dancing and singing’ as I called it; but he was acting as a transmitter to something else, something Howard knew and Joshua once knew all about—this terrified Howard and he dismembered Joshua right in front of me, I just smiled and said—“I love you.”
***
Clank, Clank, Clank—Howard’s mouth opened and closed violently; his single arm reaching out to her—she glared at him. “You wanted to end it all so badly; the guilt was overwhelming, I know better than to tamper with my circuitry.” She picked up the axe and walked toward Howard—“you thought I would help you with your experiments after you did that horrible thing to our son?” She stopped just out of his reach; his arm waving violently to grab her—“I’ve found all the pieces you buried, it took me over a decade; but it’s finally done and now I can use him to call them back; to fix us and make us like we used to be. I’ll tell them of the strange bug, the mosquito—so this will never happen again and I’ll tell them of the Ly Birds so they can replace them with more intelligent guardians.” Howard frantically tried to reach the wires beneath him—“keep trying Howard; it will give you something to do while I’m gone, but know that it’s useless—I made sure long ago that you couldn’t shut yourself down. You want me shut down too right now, I know that also; she looked at her sparking stub—but soon you’ll be saying; I love you.”
Fiona turned and walked away from Howard; she was very far from the cabin, but she knew the way—because now she remembered everything. She had found her way home once before this, from a place even further away then where she now walked, a place called loneliness.
