Re: The Disposable Enquiry [Round 1: Kyyhkynen]
09-07-2011, 02:09 PM
Thrunik had suffered the effects on sensory overload many times before. During his prior life he had many a time tunnelled out of a sedimentary layer of warm earth into sheets of freshly fallen snow, the triple shock of experiencing a contrast in warmth, light and speed of travel disorienting him and causing him to stop dead in his tracks. A few caustic occasions he had the misfortune of tunnelling out of the side of a large hill, becoming airborne for a brief second before gravity took ahold of his body and dragged him skidding and rolling down the hill. On those brief periods, Thrunik would only burrow through the topsoil for days, out of shame and embarrassment that he had travelled with such disregard for his surroundings. Among his kin, Thrunik had a reputation for acting before thinking, if ever thinking at all.
But the sensation affecting Thrunik was something entirely alien and arresting all together. For the first time in his life, Thrunik was experiencing sound in all its glory. Sound, the simple vibrations coursing through air and solid mass, had never truly played a large part of Thrunik's life. While Hairworms did have ears and a speech organ, both were internal organs, evolution cutting them off from contact with his outer layer of skin to prevent unwanted dirt and rocks clogging their tracts. A Hairworm's internal ear could only hear amplified sound through vibration, through direct contact with whatever was the origin of the noise. The inverse was true for their speech organs, being that they could only talk to another worm they had direct contact with. Their long, fibrous hair also made for excellent sound conductors, both receiving and transmitting. The etymology of the Hairworm word for "speak" comes from an ancient dialect that translates to "moves through the follicles". Being the last uneaten species on their barren planet, the only true use of hearing Hairworms had was as an underground sonar, hearing all those who tunnelled in close proximity to themselves. This environment had refined Thrunik's to pick up small changes in vibrations in the earth, hearing the subtlest sounds. But now, everything was a symphony of cacophony.
Screams perforated the air, klaxons and alarms sounded their shrill songs and everywhere, rubble fell. Kyyhkynen, with its architecture designed to withstand the forces associated with riding atop a dove's back, was faring surprisingly well, but every so often, a groan of steel would signify the precursor to another twisted fire-exit, another air conditioner, another windowpane falling to the street below. An elderly man shuffled by, one hand raised to the sky, the other being tugged at by a young boy, no older than eight, pulling him in the opposite direction to that of which he was moving.
"Granpa, come on! We have to go! Mommy's waiting for us at the Airhub." he pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. He had never seen his Granpa act this way before. So disconnected, so etheral.
"Samyuel, you do not understand. This is where we belong. We have been patient and finally the Gods have rewarded our steadfastness with the ultimate gift given to man. Finally, we will descend to Utopia!"
The old man had tears in his eyes too, of a very different nature. Tears of joy, tears of belief, tears of release after a lifetime of adhering to the old ways long forgotten, the old books, dusty with the ignorance of the youth. But now it was the youth that would understand, that would be ignored. Rounding a corner, the two came face to face with the most majestic being either would ever lay eyes on for the rest of their short lives. Thrunik, in a state of shock, had frozen in place under the street lamp, unwittingly being showered in occasional bursts of sparks. Samyuel froze himself, then dropped his grandfather's hand and turned running, calling to his mother. In contrast, the elderly man's face lit up and he broke into a run toward Thrunik, not slowing down to meet him, but instead launching his entire body into Thrunik's soft, dirty girth.
"Oh Great Yirdon, have mercy on a poor mortal like me! I submit my life, my body and my soul to your benevolence and pray for Utopia!"
This physical contact was enough to send Thrunik over the edge. Whipping wildy around without regard for life or surroundings, leapt in a tall arc and collided, mouth first, with the road.
Thrunik dove beneath the surface, tail thrashing wildly in panic. His natural environment was below ground and beneath the earth lay sanctuary and reprieve from this... this anguish. Once he had burrowed his own length and again did he come to a halt, facing directly down. The noise of the distressed city had faded but only momentarily. After what could only have been described as an iota of time, the sounds he had escaped were replaced by something far more frightening. A rhythmic, pulsing noise so deep, so low, so loud that it passed right through his body, leaving no hair without a spilt end. He'd lain with enough females of his species to understand what the sound meant. Curled up in comfort next to their soft bodies, tails wrapped around each other in the afterglow, they'd been in close enough proximity to hear the heartbeat of one another. Now, that sound was replicated in a far more distressing manner. The heartbeat was infinitely louder, stronger and just plain vaster in all regards. He could not comprehend what beast must lay claim to a heart of that magnitude. From inside his tunnel, his shelter, Thrunik began to feel for the first time that being underground was no sanctuary, no haven, but a terrible prison.
Is observing my own pattern of behavior of observing my own patterns of behavior a mental fractal or just navel gazing? Please advise.