confessions of a weirdness magnet, part 32
this is your brain on drugs (play Shriekback's Nemesis)
this is part of the book i started writing while whacked out on morphine, trying to pull a coleridge (note that he didn't finish, either, should have taken that into account). i sketched out the background while in the APD lockup for manufacturing. there's a lot of expostion, so here's a summary if that bugs you. this is a new weird take on colonial fiction. the natives are the florans, a mix of faeries, who are the immortal analogs of the various orders of insects, so that sprites have dragonfly wings. they share their tree cities, built in the canopies and ground of dryad hometrees (thus there are chocolate tree dryads and cashew dryads) with the various omnivorous and carnivorous mammals, all of which are mortal lycanthropes that can take human form. their society is near post-scarcity, just enough to keep it fun, with advanced magical technology.
eons ago the mistflower jungles, the home of the florans, was invaded by the retreating and refugee savage elves, whose domain on the region know as the tepuin (a tepui is a mesa in the jungle) had just been shattered by the uprising of the macaw nation. savages elves are universally insane, though each one's pathology is different. yet they have advanced magical technology, learned by experimenting on their brethren and slaves. necromantic alchemy is the basis, whereby bodily fluids are drained from different faerie races and mixed into hugely powerful potions, some of which can bend reality. the shifters they just reanimate as zombies or jujus, which have some bit of mind left, or chonchon attack drones. just fyi, chonchons are from incan mythologies. at night the body's ears grow huge and the head rips from the body, intestines dangling, and flies off to attack. well, you get the picture, gleefully wicked children set loose with the powers of gods. the first book was to be called Welcome to the Occupation, after the REM song in a trilogy called the Lotus Position, which is about the ethics of genocide - should the florans wait a few more centuries and let the savage elves die off, ignoring the statistically insignifant raids, or, if given the power, exterminate them. so, this is chapter two of Welcome to the Occupation, where the villians are introduced.
Meeting of the Bored
"We're all so clogged with dead ideas
passed from generation to generation
that even the best of us don't know the way out
We invented the Revolution
but we don't know how to run it"
- The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat As Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade, a play be Peter Weiss
To know Thuksula Zombiemaster, one must first know the Fu'suliashi, as one must know what is normal before appreciating what is not, though "normal" will have to be relative in such a discussion. The Fu'suliashi are the Savage Elves of the Mistflower Jungles, Unseelie kin to the more common varieties. Physically distinctive, they have cyan skin with hair in various pastel shades, and it is customary among of the Ccnnibals to cover their bodies with tattoos and to file their teeth. The Elven commonality shows in their long limbs, sharp features, Faerie natures and gangly two meter height.
Beyond simple (though disturbing) appearances, the Savages also practice many foul and disgusting black arts and furthermore are known to be mad as a box of worms, though no less dangerous for it. Nevertheless, they are the dominant civilization in the Threefalls region of the jungles, primarily because their necromantic alchemy is powerful, one of the high magics, and thus supersedes and often cancels the compiled sciences of the Flowerfolk and other decent indigenies.
Fu'suliashi civilization is based on slavery and servitude. They have a base work force of robot-like zombies, legions of semi-intelligent juju slaves and flying chonchon attack drones, along with a nightmare zoo of twisted inanimals. Fortunately their servants are durable and non-biodegradable, reducing their need for fresh victims. Even the prisoners from which they milk the ingredients for their cannibal tisanes are undying Faeries, leaving the Savages with little cause to interact with outsiders. They raid and terrorize, but their attacks are random and infrequent. Since assaulting their cities, with their teeming undead and other monstrous defenders, is basically impossible, the Flowerfolk of Threefalls merely endure. As is common with madmen, Fu'suliashi prefer their own company. Most are too concerned with upcoming galas, events and spectacles, and with social status amongst their peers to be a large threat to their neighbors.
Not that the Savages lack in technology, they practice the same arts of lorecraft and enchantment as other peoples, but that they do so with a certain decadence. Their society is clearing rotting from within, albeit slowly. Their golden age, such as it was, ended five thousand years ago, when the nascent Macaw nation expelled them from the Tepuin bioregion. Since then, several of their redoubt cities in the Threefalls region have been abandoned as the population slowly dwindles. The only area of growth, cancerous though it may be, is the ill named city of Serenity, home of the thriving lotus dust trade.
Thuksula is thus like a disease that breeds in a corpse. He is not content to moulder in peace, he must seek out and involve others and thus secure his position. He remembers the Exodus, being one of the few remaining Fu'suliashi to have survived the Tepuin Genocide, and he embodies the revenge of a people who have forgotten the original cause belle. The fact that most of his race are unconcerned with their past persecutions, that he is the lone bearer of the faith, is one of the things that drives him to such contrived and deliberate mayhem, another spike in his already cracked mind.
The Zombiemaster himself is physically unexceptional. His hair and eyes are puce, his teeth are filed to points, and his body is covered with irregular polygons of vibrant orange and fuzzy sky-blue, somewhat like a scattered abstract expressionist jigsaw puzzle. His only garb is a pair of black latex shorts with jagged cuffs, giving him an oddly juvenile appearance. His hair, which is spiky and cut at random lengths, adds to the effect.
It is an unfortunate fact that many lunatics have a certain charisma, even that the depth of their dysfunction somehow powers their charm. Thuksula Zombiemaster is one such lunatic, and he has used his powers of manipulation and inspiration to assemble a cadre of like-minded Savages, which he calls the Trust Cooperation.
The Trust Cooperation makes it's home in an ahuizotl spirittrap known as the Rooms in Rooms (aka the RoRoomoms). Ahuizotl are native monsters that resemble jaguars with the heads of simians. They have smooth brown skin except for a mane of green hair, covering their heads like a lion's mane then continuing down their backs like a horse's. The most alien and disturbing part of them is their tails, which end in a human style hand, either left or right depending on their psuedogender. The tails are much stronger than a mundane animal's, fully capable of lifting human sized prey.
The spirittraps of the ahuizotls are places were the mere contemplation of geometry is mortally perilous. Individual structures are widely varied in architecture, but all are spatially warped in such a way that trespassers and/or observers cannot get free of them. In pre-Exodus times, they were built with unmortered stone and earth trapped in pockets of twisted space-time. In the modern era, ahuizotls use magically created bricks salvaged from abandoned Fu'suliashi cities. Every sane and surviving inhabitant of the Mistflower Jungles is conditioned from birth to immediately shut it's eyes upon sight of stacked bricks of black abode, turn full 'round then flee without a backwards glance. This of course does not apply to the Savage Elves, who are by no estimation sane, nor even often interested in personal survival. Thuksula's Cooperation in fact deliberately provides the monsters with building materials.
Cooperation headquarters is located within the Rooms in Rooms, a collection of black, irregular cubes stacked haphazardly, with random and often inaccessible doors and windows. From the inside, the geometry of the rooms is subtly disturbing, there are no right angles or perpendicular lines. Stairways that may or may not go anywhere or that are completely unreachable add to the effect.
In addition to the Zombiemaster, there are twelve Directors of the Trust Cooperation, all seated around a thick plywood table, with Thuksula at the head. The Directors are dressed in typical Savage fashion: some combination of skin-tight black latex and pastel rayon scarves. Fu'suliashi have a very different view of the function of clothing - consider Umsa'an Fluxmaster, the Director of Commerce, who wears only a ski mask style latex hood, and nothing else. His tattooes trace the courses of major viens and arteries in purple and yellow. The only exception to this trend is Ahimsa, a heavily muscled puce haired female who sits on the Zombiemaster's immediate left.
Ahimsa Ladydark is a striking figure, even for a Savage Elf. She customarily wears a black latex body suit that covers her from neck to wrist to ankle, to which are affixed pieces of adamantium plate. She has greeves, vambraces, a gorget, a belt and a shapely breastplate brassiere, all tastefully worked and clearly functional. Innumerable thin links of floor-length chain hang from her belt, forming a kind of protective but revealing skirt, which makes a characteristic grinding swish when she walks. Unlike most of her race, she does not file her teeth, which indicates a lack of grooming and is thus considered unattractive. Her facial tattoo is a simple black line that bisects her face then makes an irregular semicircle on the left side, a pattern repeated on the backs of her hands and the tops of her feet. She is, in her own way, powerfully beautiful, a situation that exacerbates her violent parthenomania.
She is a Cosmoknight, the Unseelie order of knighthood in the endless and mostly irrelevant (to other Savages) High War. The Cosmoknights have a code of battle which centers around limiting civilian casualities and individual combat, but are nevertheless known to poison and torture their enemies. In addition she is Thuksula's sister and the Director of Security in the Trust Cooperation. This combination makes her Second Executive, and a power in her own right, controller of most of the military aspects of the company.
The Directors are seated around a thick no nonsense plywood table. Thuksula is at the head, at the opposite end there is a small gong attended by a quarter meter tall juju slave holding a full size gavel. At the Zombiemaster's gesture, the little undead ceremoniously rings the gong, which produces a nerve-rending screech, totally unlike what it's shape would suggest. The assembled Directors either flinch or roll their eyes, apropos, but they do come to attention.
"The 35,869th meeting of the Board of Directors will now come to order, all in agreeance say 'mud', " intones the Zombiemaster, with some measure of grace. "Mud" is echoed from the twelve Directors, will a clear lack of enthusiam. "The first order is old business. We will hear the report of the Director of Intelligence."
Ee'za Mindmaster rises to speak. His costume consists of alternating horizontal bands of latex and rayon, making him look somewhat like a pile of varicolored worms. His tattoes are squiggly lines of red and green. Given his job and lifestyle choices, he is what might be considered a highly functional bellicose paranoic.
"As you well know, we face an enemy of vast and subtle power, and thus secrecy is essential. The first stage of my counterintelligence program, by which I mean the construction and occupation of the ahuizotl structures in order to defeat the enemy's clairvoyance, has been complete for some time and furthermore has been an unquestionable success. Now, I propose to you, my fellow Directors, it is time to engage in the second phase-"
"Oh, please, Ee'za, not more of your idiot helmets," this from Shumzula, who is virtually mummified in technicolor scarves.
"Ahh, no, athough your lack of enthusiam betrays you, my dear Director. The counterpsi helmets will remain optional though highly recommended, at the request of our Chief Executive. I, for one, would not be caught outside without one. As I was saying, it is now time to engage the second stage of our program. As stated and conclusively proven in my previous presentations, our enemies have developed telepathic micro-organisms capable of observing our activities here within our havens, then following us outside, parasites on our very bodies, to report to their unseen masters."
"Our antisurveillance testing proceeds apace, though results are difficult to quantify. With the timely aid of Director Zhang, (bow) I have developed a program of sterilization and hygiene that offers us some chance of continuing in secrecy. A continuing program of antiseptsis should be our first priority. When our foes have demonstrated such casually invasive powers, our caution must know no limits. The Director of Etiquette will demostrate."
Director Zhang stands. His hair is baby blue, his tattoes blue and pink spots of random sizes. He wears a crossed latex chest harness and a beautiful, flowing skirt of pink rayon. He places before him a small bottle of faceted obsidian, shaped like a pineapple. He looks at the bottle, scowls, then moves it a few centimeters to the left.
"My fellow Directors," he begins, then pauses and moves the bottle back to its original position. "Members of the board, it is my pleasure to introduce our newest development: the Antisept Tisane." With this he takes the bottle and screws off the crown-like latex top to reveal a dropper. With great concentration, he raises the dropper over the table and squeezes. A single drop of clear liquid falls and hits the table. Instantly the room is filled with a sharp ammoniac smell, the directors are in disarry, coughing and wincing. Zhang himself briefly shudders in apparent ecstacy and waits for the commotion to cease. Several of the Directors are glaring at him, disgusted with his display of mysophobic paraphilia.
"A single drop will destroy all microbes within a ten meter radius, with a partial effect out to twenty meters. We have prepared a bottle for each of you, which should easily last several months. Once again, Fusuliashi technology has triumphed over birdbrain trechery." He reaches for the bottle again, and all the Directors cringe in anticipation. With a heady, self-satisfied sigh, he releases another drop. "Frequent reapplication, is, of course-"
"That will DO, Director Zhang, we understand and congratulate you. Second Executive Ladydark, if the reaches for it again, cut off his hands," interrupts Thuksula. Ahimsa looks directly at Zhang, death in her eyes. She licks her lips evocatively and reaches over her back to draw her organo-adamantium bastard sword. Cowed, Director Zhang sits abruptly.
"The next order of business concerns the Director of Propaganda. Report to us, Waymaster, of the Cacmaw Project."
Aa'hui Waymaster is the Director of Propaganda and a certified complusive liar.Her clothing involves winding spectrally colored rayon scarves, which form only sleeves, along with latex arranged like a bikini. He is the champion of the Cacmaw project - the genesis of macaw inanimals through the power of black magic, in this case the inanimal tisane. This bit of necromantic alchemy causes the essence of a beast to be cutoff from the universal Anima, causing it to mutate into a perverted version of its original form - the inanimal, animal undead. Thus Cacmaws are macaw colored ratites with hugely muscled naked legs, a long feathered neck and a psittacine head. Their bills are greatly enlarged and razor sharp. Most significantly, as macaws are psychic, Cacmaws have antipsi - mind static that disrupts other attempts at mentalism, and it was the psychic gestalt of the newly unified macaw nation that crushed the ancien regime.
"Cacmaws have become the mounts of choice throughout the region. Despite the people's apparent apathy for the War, there remains a strong hatred for macaws. The introduction of the macaw inanimals has capitalized on this admiralbly. Having a Cacmaw mount is a status symbol in all the cities - in the Arena Menagerie there are daily Cacmaw fights and races. In Serenity, a single suspended hybrid macaw is worth a hundred weights of lotus dust - and a Hyacinth can bring thousands. There are five independant poacher companies who routinely raid the borderlands, using Cacmaw mounts - a vicious cycle, as we intended. The birdbrains retaliate, but without direction and to little effect."
Aa'hui is clearly pleased with himself, looking at the others expectantly. After a moment there is smattering of forced applause, after which Thuksula moves on the next order of business, indicated the Director of Technology, Ekonosoli Shadowmaster. He wears a sequined rose and blush ball gown with adamantuim breast cones. His tattooes are electric blue lightening streaks. For most of the meeting, he busily twirls the salmon color hair at the apex of his head around his finger, stopping only when it comes his turn to speak.
"Project Tenebrae...." He pauses for a moment and cocks his head to the side, then growls sotto voce, "Later, bitches, I'm busy" Returning his attention to the board, he continues "Our world is interwoven and mirrored by an assortment of elemental planes - I'm sure this is not news to any of you, nor that our actions and those of the djinns have effects that translate with indirect consequences. Project Tenebrae is an attempt to exploit this, to, in effect, take advantage of the side effects of our efforts. In particular, our 'funding', let us say, of the spirittraps has an especially useful effect on the Shadow Plane. By means of techniques acquired from the Dark Elves, we have been able to communicate and coordinate with the elementals, to our mutual profit. They capitalize on the dimensional echoes of our architectural endevours, and we get mirage djinn slaves. It is my pleasure to announce that the controlling technology for the djinns has been perfected and standardized to the extent that it will be available soon for general use. Their utility is of course limited by their incorporeal natures, but they excel at stealth - they are fully intelligent and adaptable agents, even creative. Yet they are utterly enslaved, as our children are, with true name spirit tokens.
"The nature, the very substance of these beings, is illusion. They occupy space, but have no mass. They generate no energy of their own, but can distort existing energy into mirages with light, sound, heat components and, in some cases, auras that register as smells. Their knowledge is limitless but parasitic - their ability to draw images from the minds of observers to create believable illusions is uncanny. They can be harmed by coherent light, concentrated sonics, and, I assume, psychic attacks, but left to their own defenses can easily dodge any of these. Yes, fellow Directors, these beings can dodge sunbolts. They are, of course, totally immune to any kind of damage from kinetic energy...-"
"Meaning they can't DO anything. What are you going to do, Shadowmaster, scare people to death? Haven't you tried that already?" remarks Akee'zha Truthmaster. The rest of the Directors giggle and titter, excepting Thuksula, who has the air of an indulgent grandparent.
"Since you mention it, dear Akee'zha, yes, that has been known to happen. Unconsciousness it more common - in cases of attacks with illusionary weapons people feint." He waits for a moment, but the only reaction is a few impatient glares. "In any case, I think a demonstration is in order . . . " He is interrupted with chuckles, amused grins and nose-tapping, but just looks back at the other Directors, perplexed.
"Whatever," he conceeds, "watch and learn." He removes a small black iron box from his bustierre and places it on the table, flicking open the lid as he does. Nothing of significance seems to happen. "Normally, the names of elementals are keep secret, but this is irrelevant to Shadow Elementals. Thnmbthk (?), come out - full coverage" The sound he makes, apparently the creature's name, is utterly incoherent. In any case, nothing continues to happen.
"As you can see, we are now totally immersed in the shadow deamon, in a sense, we are inside it," he begins.
"No I don't. See, see what? Why did you make that noise, that razzberry sound? Did you spit something at me!?!," they all interrupt at once. Ekonsoli purses his lips and waits to let them finish.
"First Executive, if I may petition for silence? All questions will be answered in time"
"Very well, point of order" agrees Thuksula, who gestures to the juju. The little creature strikes the gong again, making no sound at all. All of the seated Directors reach up and finger-zip their lips together in unison.
"Where was I?," he says and cocks his ear. "Ah, so, thank you, Phthlmnp (?) As I was saying, we are now inside a completely interactive illusionary environment. Witness, exhibit delta!" Suddenly all of the Directors are looking at each other instead of Ekonosoli, twisting their heads right and left like agitated birds, while Thuksula looks on in bemusement. "End delta. " The confusion lasts only a few seconds, then attention is returned to the speaker. "Each of you experienced a completely separate illusion, a layer of distorted light just above your eyes, moving with you, while the Executive saw, well, nothing more unusual than could be expected. " He gives them a moment to digest this. "While the last exhibit was prearranged, it need not be. Mirage Djinns have a multifocus consciousness, which can create many separate illusions totally impromptu. What was that, Hhlrrpmh(?) Ah, yes, a volunteer from the audience, that should be educational. Any suggestions?" He looks around expectantly. There is a round of silent eye rolling and teeth clenching before Thuksula gets his cue and gestures to the gong, which emits a spontaneous deep bass ring.
"Well, a request, anyone?" he asks. Most of the Directors put on a play of studied disinterest, except Aganti Ticklemaster, the Director of Acquisitions, whose eyes are wide with childish delight. He wears a black top hat and coat with tails, no shirt, and puffy translucent gray pantaloons. Aganti's tattoes are varicolored handprints, the one centered on his left cheek most noticeable. "Can you do . . . butterflies? PLEEEZE!" He raises his hands before him in prayer position and claps in anticipation.
Ekonosoli smiles indulgently and winks. "Very well. Llhmnph (?), proceed." Suddenly the room is awash in vivid technicolor butterflies of all sizes. Rather than flitting aimlessly, as is normally the wont of such, these insects are engaged in vicious aerial combat. Apparently their wings are made of ultrafine glass panes - sharp and brittle. Damaged butterflies crash into the table, collapsing into piles of shards with a musical tinkling. The Directors seem interested in this, at least aesthetically. Aganti himself is wonderstruck, mouth agape. "This particular format is purely from the imagination of the elemental, and, to a degree, from the mind of Director Aganti. As I was saying, the creatures have a positive talent for design - it is part of their nature. Okay, enough, Phfmlphm (?), back in the box." The display vanishes, and Ekonosoli closes the box.
"To answer an obvious questions first, the names. If you do not know the true name of the djinn, you cannot hear it correctly. In a sense, the name itself is a distortion. This is also a part of the nature of this particular variety of elemental, and very convienent - it is autoencrypting. Given the information economy of the Dark Elves, this is to be expected with much of their technology. It is one of the few bits of knowledge they will allow us until the completion of our Humourous Grimoire, a subject I shall leave to our Director of Commerce (bow to Umsa'an). The second concern is range. Shadow elementals do not function well independently. It is best that they stay in a locale that is familiar, or that they accompany their keeper. This largely a problem of focus - they are very distractable and can in fact become lost. "
"Initially, our primary use of mirage djinn technology should be military, I'd suppose. Once our enemies become familiar with such tactics, they will be of less use, and thus can be phased out and used as high value trade items. Though we do not have a sufficient supply yet of these beings for casual use, yet, I would say, we have reached at point at which further in house testing would be redundant. On that note I will close, unless you have questions?"
[cut]
that's the last contiguous bit. i had fun with it.
