From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Jameson W. Walker, Part I Keywords: new character Message-ID: Date: 22 Oct 92 23:44:55 GMT "Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he was not, and a sense of humor was provided to console him for what he is." -Robert Walpole "Roads? Where we're going we don't need... roads." -Back To The Future Jameson W. Walker, Part I _________________________ Face devoid of expression, Jameson executed a complicated set of physical gestures conveying second degree gratitude and humility, fourth degree regret, sixth degree shadings of delight and a ninth degree hint of relief. She made a soft hissing noise, varying it slightly in pitch and force to accompany the gestures, bidding her guide farewell. Before her, a vaguely reptilian creature waited, observing her speech, six arms folded in a gesture of veneration. When she had completed, it replied fluidly. Its movements were much more subtle than those of the human and its speech better controlled, but this was accepted by both parties without shame or rancor. With one final gesture, they each turned back toward the way she had come. Four of its arms joined the eight legs in conveying the scout rapidly back to its cliffs. Briefly surveying the terrain ahead, Jameson began walking. She skirted the western edge of the black desert, keeping along the border of the forest where the broad leaf fronds protected her back from the pair of tiny but cruelly bright suns. Moving at an even pace, Jameson watched her shadows slide back and forth over each other as she followed the contours of the greenery. Eventually the suns disappeared behind the horizon and the stars began making shy appearances. Soon the lights became bolder and brighter. Three small spheres in various parts of the sky lent illumination without washing the stars out too much. Jameson paused and unshouldered her pack. From within, she withdrew small box. Settling on the ground, she opened it's top and began typing. Then she paused and took a pair of goggles from her pack and put them on. She plugged a cable running from the goggles into the box and lay back, the box resting on her stomach. Slowly, she scanned the sky. Numbers and characters flitted across the screen imbedded in the top of the box. After a while, she paused, disconnected the goggles and removed them to massage her temples. She pressed her fingers lightly on her eye lids, a frown making itself known between her eyebrows, but not quite reaching her lips. Remaining supine, she took a tightly sealed container from her pack, opened the little bottle and dropped a small amount of fluid into her eyes. Some time later, she donned the goggles again. This series of actions was repeated a half dozen times before she was satisfied enough to put the goggles away. She then worked on the box, typing furiously, until two of the moons had passed behind the trees and she could no longer see. Sighing, she put everything away, wrapped herself in her oversized cloak and, resting her head on her pack, went to sleep. -*- When she woke, light was just visible in the sky beyond the forest. She would not see the suns until they had passed above the trees. She shouldered her pack and continued walking. She repeated her pattern each night. She met no one. Her eyes seemed to bother her more and more, and she used up most of the special fluid. -*- One morning she woke, rechecked her calculations, and turned toward the forest. Entering, she made her way slowly, picking through the undergrowth. Leaving little indication of her passage, she worked her way into what seemed to be the heart of the forest. The trunks of the trees were thicker and a bit farther apart. However, almost no light filtered in, although some of the lichens growing on the trees threw off a faint luminescence. After walking for quite a while, she paused and removed something small from her pack. Resting it on her palm, she looked at it intently. Satisfied with whatever its glowing face indicated, she continued. As she moved deeper into the forest, and the trees became larger, increasingly slowing her progress, she checked the little device more and more often, periodically adjusting her direction after looking at it. Unlike other forests she had been in, this one was very quiet. The natural sounds were subdued and almost negligible. She made camp in a hollow between the roots of a particularly large tree when she felt tired, and went to sleep without checking her gear, for she had no stars to chart. Continuing the next day, she eventually began passing trees whose diameters were at least twice her height. She persevered. The next day, she found trees with girths several times her height across and stretching upward beyond visibility. She thought of the time periods, the sleeping versus the waking, as days because she moved in the same cycles she had been since she arrived here. At least it felt that way. The irritation in her eyes began to fade. She used less and less of the fluid. Near the end of her fourth day in the forest, she found what she was looking for in this warm, hazy brown darkness. The Tree. The origin of all the others trees, who ringed this monumental being in ever-widening circles. Despite the fair amount of distance between the first ring of trees and the central tree, no light shined down. Climbing carefully over roots the size of some of the trunks she'd seen out on the perimeter of this forest, she made her way to the central trunk. It was warm. That night she slept cradled in the roots of the mother tree. And she dreamt. -*- Flashing LED's, brightly colored wires, and soft a whirring sound coalesced into a large machine. The machine was a computer connected to everything within ... she looked around ... within the cave. Medical equipment, food generators, replicators, output screens, input cameras, environment maintainers, speakers, all neatly wired together. From the speakers emanated a soft voice, a woman's voice, singing a tuneless song. "Mother?" Jameson called softly. "Hello, Jameson." Her mother had such a wonderful voice. "I've missed you." "And I, you. Have you developed the capability to speak to me from home or are you a representation?" Mother's voice filled her head, speaking sadly, "Only a representation, Jameson. The tree chose me from your subconscious to communicate with you, since I am that with which it could best identify. It is a mother too." Jameson smiled a tiny smile, almost regretful. "What would you like to know, Mother tree?" The other voice deepened somewhat and spoke slowly. "Forgive my foolish? no, clumsy attempts to speak slash convey. These articles? no, words are less free? unrestrained? than I would like. Difficult to communicate pictures? no, images and thoughts? yes, thoughts with unfamiliar patterns slash constructs. You have traveled? yes and journeyed? yes, to reach our heart. You are looking for lights? no, stars slash other life givers slash takers? yes, called suns, and, something, other? door slash tunnel slash world to pattern? map? detail? explore? record? yes, all. You wish information? no, yes! Yes. Information about the door slash tunnel slash world. You think the we? the I? us? there is no word for ourselves. You think we have slash know slash exist as the door here? The route? yes, door is within slash under ourselves. You want knowledge slash knowings of us about where other doors may be found slash used that will not be harmful? yes, and inconvenient slash difficult slash exploitable regarding ourselves. Yes. Yes. A moment slash thought pause while I translate slash compile my knowings into your data types? yes, storable information and knowledge both." There is a pause, Jameson does not know how long it lasts. She is warm and comfortable and cared for; she has little desire to leave. Then dimly, growing to brightness, there is a thing. It is a map, but also a globe, but also a coordinate plane at the same time. Numbers and chart measurements flash through her mind and suddenly, it is as if she had always known the geography and peoples and different tasting dirts of this world. Of particular importance, she notes the doors specifically. "We are warmed slash gratified by your concern? yes, worry for our peace? yes, asylum? yes and safe slash undamaged slash unchanged existence. We slash I slash ourselves consider your self a friend slash protector slash ward. Sleep? yes and no, rest safely slash undisturbed. Thanking you." Jameson drifted into a deeper sleep. -*- Kelly J. Cooper \ Diving in ... Tragically Hip Waif \ Comments appreciated. ...individual at large... \ kjc@cs.rutgers.edu