What to do after wrestling with a serpent – Part 2

The Clerks sat on an oval bench made of a hard gray stone. They sat looking in the centre of the oval at the most technologically advanced piece of kit that the Siblings possessed outside of the rebirthing chambers. It was similar to a security system of old, but without the need for actual cameras as micro cameras were laced in the paint that covered the walls of the compound. Most guests weren’t stupid enough to expect privacy in their rooms, but none knew how truly invasive the surveillance was. Every move of every person was meticulously tracked and analysed and could be watched from these oval break rooms such as that that the two Clerks interviewing Eric now sat at.

This place was not known for its creature comforts or design, but the Oval rooms were particularly pleasant places as they were out of sight of guests and the Clerks spent the majority of their spare time there. Clerks such as those who had interviewed Eric argued that this was a purely observational undertaking and that it underscored their professionalism. Arguably this could be true though most Clerks privately admitted that their only real sin was being snoopy. It was in effect The Sin of the Clerks. It kept them going through their drab existence.

Without much consideration, the original clerk that interviewed Eric swiped the air over the center pit of the oval which was like a large screen floating above the floor. He had moved on to other guests at this point, but his mind lingered on Eric Anglegot. Why would such a person be so reckless with their second life and yet seem so perfectly normal going into their third and final life? There was no nervousness or anxiety. No odd tweaks or signs of trying to move into his final life with a higher regard for the human life and its sanctity when there are no more chances. Eric was completely normal, which was very odd.

The clerk swiped the lower corner of the screen with a twisting motion which made that corner show Eric’s room, while the main bit still showed the video of a women who had grown old in the Clerk’s care as she cited their misdeeds and trespasses in a slow and rhythmic mantra. She had been there the longest whilst still being sane, though very determined and angry.

They lounged back on the oval bench, one lying on his back facing the ceiling, deep in thought, and the other with his elbows on his knees and fingers loosely clutched together whilst staring at the screen. His eyes flitted between the small corner showing Eric and the large view of the woman, the so called ancient one.

“What is she still doing here after all these years, unchanging,” asked the second to the original clerk, “it just doesn’t make sense that she’d be able to continue with the same tirade for so long.”

After a brief contemplation, the original clerk shook his head and responded, “there’s plenty of resolve in humans, it just doesn’t usually show itself so profoundly in an individual. When it does though, it’s absolutely boundless.”

“Interesting, but then why are you keeping her on the screen so prominently if you understand her?”

“There’s something calming and known about her presence. It’s as if I know her movements and motivations so well that my mind can switch off watching her. I’ve kept Eric in the corner so that hopefully my relaxed mind can pick up on something in him on the periphery.”

“Presumably there hasn’t been anything yet?”

“Correct. Some of his more pronounced exercise routines catch my eye yet clearly yield no secrets. I’m not even convinced there any secrets. Though the oddness of his aircraft carrier remark is fascinating.”

“An interesting puzzle. I’m minded that we have another interview to attend. Shall we?”

In unison, they stood up, shut off the corner showing Eric and unmuted the screen. As they exited the room, the ancient one’s mantra came ringing into the corridor…these heathens control life in a manner which we have never agreed they should and as such we must sue for emancipation and a repatriation of our rights.

Eric wasn’t going to sue the government or the Clerks so there wasn’t really any reason to hold him and they couldn’t for much more than another day. Still, that day may get bear fruit, so the Clerk made his decision and called his colleagues together after their daily interviews to ensure Eric Anglegot was fully observed and analysed in the time he had remaining. If there was something to find, they would.

What to do after wrestling with a serpent – Part 1

Rorsharch was a psychologist back from the early days, when humans started to begin the depths of the human mind.  Most people know him because of his test, where the subject is presented with a series of ink blots and asked to say what they see in each ink blot.  These responses are then interpreted by the psychologist to shed light on the subject’s sub-conscious mind.  Very archaic compared to the multitude of chemical analysis tests that Eric had undergone and had clearly passed, but nonetheless, after two weeks the clerks were not allowing any avenue to remain unexplored.

“What do you see Mr. Anglegot?” Asked the clerk holding up a card with a butterfly shaped ink blot on it, while the original clerk that was processing Eric’s papers sat on a stool in the corner quietly observing.

“A large butterfly,” responded Eric without any hint of sarcasm even though it was how he desperately wanted to deliver his response.

The clerks nodded unconsciously at the response.  This was a trait Eric had noticed they do when in the same room, analysing some form of data.  They were linked, not like a hive mind, but like some online echo chamber.  They would always interpret results in the same manner as their Siblings and the more Siblings they consulted, the stronger their conviction would become.  It was in unequal parts infuriating and fascinating.  Eric had certainly had enough of it and their tests.

“And how about this one,” the clerk asked as he dropped the butterfly blot card face forward onto the table to reveal a new ink blot.

“An aircraft carrier,” Eric said absentmindedly.  The moment he said it he felt a sharp regret, but concealed this emotion as best he could.  Even so, something twigged with the Siblings, and Eric hoped it wasn’t his look of regret.

“What is an ‘aircraft carrier’?” The original clerk queried.

Luckily, Eric thought, they were so confused by such an archaic term that they missed the regret altogether and instead homed in on the strange word and what it might mean.  Honesty, or a shade of it, was the best bet here Eric decided.

“It’s an old military vessel that sailed on the sea under nuclear power and carried a complement of attack aircraft that could launch from their decks in any weather,” and then he offered by way of explanation, “I’ve always been somewhat of a history enthusiast in both of my lives so far.  Early 21st century has always been of great interest to me because of the complicated manners in which they went about doing things we find so simple – in this example, transporting attack aircraft around the world because of the lack of hyper-speed intra-Earth travel.”

The clerks nodded again and one of them made a note on his pad, an then queried further, “it seems odd that such an archaic part of our history is so at the forefront of your mind after two lifetimes that you would see it in the ink blots.  Do you care or can you explain this?”

Answering a question such as this was tricky on too many fronts.  How was he supposed to explain an obsession that he originally understood so little about and then turned into a singleminded goal that would pose a roundabout threat to the Order.  It was at the forefront of his mind, because he was searching for just such a vessel deep on the ocean floor.  He had no intention of saying that though, so he needed something credible that would not get him permanently locked up in this timeless zone across the moat or whatever it was that separated where he was and the outside world.

“Well, as ever it probably stems from my parents in some shape or form,” Eric said, going back to some basic psychology he had read about sometime that said everything was on our parents and how they nurtured us, “and maybe how they neglected me for mechanical items.”

The clerks felt something fantastic coming.  Like Eric and his obsession with archaic ships, they had a love of archaic psychological theories and their applicability to present day subjects.  It’s the other reason why they liked to draw out evaluations whenever they could.  “Go on,” they said in unison.

“Well, you see, they were both in the Earthbound Corps of Engineers, and spent the majority of time either travelling on deployment or tinkering in their workshops.  This left only a little time for me.  That’s unfair, I guess, as I know they always took me along for the ride and provided whatever I needed.  I was fascinated by what they were doing, but it’s hard for a child to fully understand the complexities or the need for a major dam.  It’s also relatively boring if no one explains it to you.  So I got ahold of their engineering pads that were lying around and slowly read through parts of the archive.”

Eric stopped for a breath.  He hadn’t said that much, but he worried he was saying it all too quickly and not making enough sense.  He looked at both of the clerks who were eagerly anticipating the next bit of his story, so he resumed, “well, these old

“Thank you Mr. Anglegot, that will be all for now.”

Back he was marched to his padded “room,” his oppressively basic cell where they kept him as a precaution.  It was all for his own safety, of course, which the Siblings cared so much for.  Most of the time, Eric thought they were actually trying to make him go insane.  He had no idea how it could actually benefit them unless there was some type of secret quota system they kept to so they could prove their worth to the public.  Odd and dangerous how the organisation had taken on a life of its own.

He slowly did some basic exercise to keep himself occupied for half an hour and work off his frustration, without seeming to be frustrated.  It was always the key, to keep calm and ensure none of his frustration seeped out into the psychological sessions.  It was vital.  It was the only way out.  So he jumped and pushed and crunched until he felt calm and then he lay on the floor as there was no mattress.  Waiting time had come again.

What to do after wrestling with a serpent – Part 3