"Are you a gardener, Mr. Boyle?"
He stepped towards the man kneeling, bound and bloodied, before him. No answer came from Mr. Boyle, only a stuttering sob around his gag. The man crouched down to a level with his prisoner.
"Have you ever had to weed?" Nothing but a wet choke in response. "It's a tedious job, but essential. If someone doesn't get his hands dirty pulling up the refuse, then the weeds will spread and spread until the tamer plants are choked out completely and the weeds are all that remain. It requires a diligent person, a devoted person, to do that job."
The man rose from his crouch and, turning away from Boyle, ran his eyes and fingers over the various tools hanging on the walls of the shed. A hoe. A trowel. A length of hose.
"Are you religious, Mr. Boyle?"
A rake. A rope.
"I am. I believe God must be a gardener. Look at the variety of people he's planted, the way he's organized them so aesthetically by color and size."
A shovel. A pair of branch cutters.
"Some people are his plants, some his tools."
A garden fork. A bottle of pesticide.
"Oh yes. There are people put on this world to help God cultivate it. They water and mulch...and they weed. They rip out the poison Ivies and creeping Charlies to make room for the men and women God finds worthy of his soil."
A chainsaw.
"For though God loves all things that grow..."
An ax.
"he does not want them all. Some men are nothing more than weeds..."
The hoe again.
"Like you."
A squeal
"And like me."
A squelch.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Reported Rapport
"SO WH4T H4PP3N3D 4FT3R COLL1N'S FL4M3 THROW3R 3XPLOD3D?"
"I'm getting to that," I replied, trying to recall the events of the previous night's party. "Collins passed out, though I think it was the drinking, not the burst that did it. I'm starting to suspect he's immune to explosions. Meanwhile the bat he was aiming at did a victory dance."
"B4TS C4N D4NC3?"
"That was nothing compared to Loki. Do you know anything about Norse mythology?"
For half a minute, the screen went still.
"NOW 1 DO"
"Did you just download all of Norse Mythology?"
"PL34S3. DO YOU R34LLY TH1NK TH4T'S HOW 1T WORKS? TH4T 1 C4N JUST DOWNLO4D 4NY 1NFO 1 W4NT?"
"Yes."
"<_< >_> <_< "
"OK4Y, Y34H."
I tried and failed to repress a smirk. "Well then it shouldn't surprise you that after swindling half the Guild out of their coins and drinking the other half under the table, he decided to, er, well, go Greek as it were."
"HMMM?"
"Well, I mean, you know how -um- Zeus and his-affairs-uh," I blustered. For a moment I had forgotten that this was supposed to be an official report. Without care, the conversation could easily veer off into a significantly less official gutter. I needed to redirect the discussion with my rhetorical skill and maturity.
"H3 TURN3D 1NTO GL1TT3R 4ND D1D TH3 MYTHOLOG1C4L N4STY D1DN'T H3?"
It seemed I'd have to handle the maturity and let 101010 come up with the rhetorical skill.
"Frankly, I don't really think that part of the night is relevant, unless the Fey plan on taking over the world with bedroom conquests."
"TH3N WH4T DO YOU TH1NK 1S R3L3V4NT?"
"Well...maybe...if you think about it..." I could feel 101010's digital gaze bearing down on me, daring me to come up with something useful. A cocked eyebrow, a twisted smirk, crossed legs and arms, triumphant in advance. The silence was taking shape and the shape was mocking me. "I rickrolled them."
"WH4T!?"
"Well, Eleanor knew I played piano. The band didn't care who took a turn on theirs. She insisted. I protested. I lost, and that was the only song I could think of."
"H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4! OK4Y, TH4T S3TTL3S 1T."
"Settles wha-" The clang of metal on metal cut me off. I clambered to my feet and rushed over to the door through which I'd entered the submarine's little closet. Locked. I'd known when I went in that it would be the perfect place to hold a conversation with a Streamer unobserved. However, at that moment, privacy struck me has highly overrated.
"101010? What are you doing?"
"R3L4X. 1'M JUST GO1NG TO T4K3 YOU FOR 4 R1D3 TO TH3 N3TH3RL4NDS."
"OH! Well, that's perfectly ALRIGHT THEN! Just let me out for a moment and I can pack my clogs." Anxiety poured over me, sending icy rivulets across my back and through my lungs. The pit of my stomach sank, then sprung up again, bobbing on a wave of...was that fear or excitement.
"4ND YOU DON'T H4V3 TO C4LL M3 101010. My name's Alice."
"I'm getting to that," I replied, trying to recall the events of the previous night's party. "Collins passed out, though I think it was the drinking, not the burst that did it. I'm starting to suspect he's immune to explosions. Meanwhile the bat he was aiming at did a victory dance."
"B4TS C4N D4NC3?"
"That was nothing compared to Loki. Do you know anything about Norse mythology?"
For half a minute, the screen went still.
"NOW 1 DO"
"Did you just download all of Norse Mythology?"
"PL34S3. DO YOU R34LLY TH1NK TH4T'S HOW 1T WORKS? TH4T 1 C4N JUST DOWNLO4D 4NY 1NFO 1 W4NT?"
"Yes."
"<_< >_> <_< "
"OK4Y, Y34H."
I tried and failed to repress a smirk. "Well then it shouldn't surprise you that after swindling half the Guild out of their coins and drinking the other half under the table, he decided to, er, well, go Greek as it were."
"HMMM?"
"Well, I mean, you know how -um- Zeus and his-affairs-uh," I blustered. For a moment I had forgotten that this was supposed to be an official report. Without care, the conversation could easily veer off into a significantly less official gutter. I needed to redirect the discussion with my rhetorical skill and maturity.
"H3 TURN3D 1NTO GL1TT3R 4ND D1D TH3 MYTHOLOG1C4L N4STY D1DN'T H3?"
It seemed I'd have to handle the maturity and let 101010 come up with the rhetorical skill.
"Frankly, I don't really think that part of the night is relevant, unless the Fey plan on taking over the world with bedroom conquests."
"TH3N WH4T DO YOU TH1NK 1S R3L3V4NT?"
"Well...maybe...if you think about it..." I could feel 101010's digital gaze bearing down on me, daring me to come up with something useful. A cocked eyebrow, a twisted smirk, crossed legs and arms, triumphant in advance. The silence was taking shape and the shape was mocking me. "I rickrolled them."
"WH4T!?"
"Well, Eleanor knew I played piano. The band didn't care who took a turn on theirs. She insisted. I protested. I lost, and that was the only song I could think of."
"H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4! OK4Y, TH4T S3TTL3S 1T."
"Settles wha-" The clang of metal on metal cut me off. I clambered to my feet and rushed over to the door through which I'd entered the submarine's little closet. Locked. I'd known when I went in that it would be the perfect place to hold a conversation with a Streamer unobserved. However, at that moment, privacy struck me has highly overrated.
"101010? What are you doing?"
"R3L4X. 1'M JUST GO1NG TO T4K3 YOU FOR 4 R1D3 TO TH3 N3TH3RL4NDS."
"OH! Well, that's perfectly ALRIGHT THEN! Just let me out for a moment and I can pack my clogs." Anxiety poured over me, sending icy rivulets across my back and through my lungs. The pit of my stomach sank, then sprung up again, bobbing on a wave of...was that fear or excitement.
"4ND YOU DON'T H4V3 TO C4LL M3 101010. My name's Alice."
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