history

December 7, 2014

in memoriam

Sometimes,
when walking down
the cobbled streets of this young republic
History as history as
the story beyond the stories told

creeps up on you silently
murderously precise
chilling in its horror
unmistakable in its terror

flashing golden in the street
embedded silently
into the very solidity you stand on,
shifting the ground beneath your feet.

In that moment
bending low in a ghostly bow
all else is silence

even memories of that great music
that was once the sole hallmark of this
old and ancient soil
a once-fragmented space
ruled by dukes and lords and princes
for centuries past
this battleground of faiths
this incubator of deep and deepest thoughts

unified ruthlessly under an unwilling emperor
and a rebellious king
who fraternized with the French
to receive sovereignty
the kingly crown
who’s son of his son
would go mad with love and life
and create breathtaking fairytales
that today are admired,
celebrated and duplicated all round.

* * *

A Lady with an ë
once wound along these rivers
and through these hills in a chaise and four,
wondering at this densely forested space
living quietly beyond the fingers of
what was known as civilization;

a place untouched by the wonders of the world
or so she thought
birthplace of so many geniuses in music
and thinkers of great, complicated thoughts.

And yet I wonder
if she in her elegance
could have foreseen that the very rivers and trees
the very hills and towns and cities
she visited and documented with such admiration
would one day harbour such industrialised insanity
such satanical banality
that went beyond the guillotined terror
she and her peers knew too well.

For that was the real horror, was it not
that was the ultimate shock
that civilisation could be rendered
null and void
by its very own foundations,
that loyalty could be despicable
obedience horrendous
silence inexcusable
and rationality the ultimate weapon
to destroy all faith in safety valves.

And now it is understood that
decrees are needed
rules and laws and regulations
set in metaphorical stone
to emblazon the coordinates for humanity.

For it was proven beyond doubt
in those awful twelve years
that you cannot trust anyone
no faith, no ideology, no religion
none who call themselves civilised,
no system of thought or belief,
to ascertain that mercy and compassion
what it means to be human, humane
would never be infringed.

For that was the horror of it,
that was the most ultimate of shocks:
that even the most ordinary human,
so civilised, so educated, so loyal,
could be, given the right circumstance,
someone unquestionably monstrous.

November 16, 2014May 16, 2020

reconstruction, 1

I started this as a Merci-For-Reading to all you lovely people. Then I looked out of the window. Behold, a November day in all its grey glory. Which brought me to this dark little piece. So here it is, for you, my dearest wordlovers, and your likes, re-posts and comments that I truly cherish. Oh, and in case you’re wondering: Yes, the Philae on the Comet might have a little bit to do with this particular genre twist… Enjoy :) j.d.

They said they were like bright lights. It looked beautiful, like slow fireworks at daylight, falling from the sky. Then the first alarms went off, but by the time anyone knew what had happened it was too late.

Afterwards they said someone had tampered with the force fields and sent an asteroid belt the wrong way. They could just stop the whole thing from coming down, but a few escaped. Those were the bright lights in the sky, like comets you could touch.

A whole mountain range disappeared, it had one of the highest peaks known. From one second to the next it was gone. Whole coastlines and cities were no more. The oceans rose, and more land was swallowed. Many were able to escape to the moon bases, but many others weren’t so fortunate.

Then came the rains and snows, hail storms that would last for weeks. Volcanoes erupted and new land rose, but it was too young. The rains never stopped long enough and the famine lasted for years. The War made it worse. You could see the bombs in the sky, the clouds of fighters shooting each other down. Finally, the weather started to change and more land could be tilled again. People started coming back. That’s when the Reconstruction began.

* * *

Records of Reconstruction

Urbana Regulatio Historia
Section XIV § 27

Consortia in Residencia

1.1

Residents are of either persuasion. According to Section III URH, their form and permanence must be in strict accordance to Federation Regulation 24-10 of Humanoid Development.

1.2

Residents are not Citizens. According to Section IV URH, they must not be recruited from the body of Citizens. The ordination must remain highly controlled, following Federation Regulation 36-17: 1.1 to 1.27. Freedom of movement and of person, according to Section V URH, may be allowed in 1) a House Domain and in 2) a Citizen’s Private Quarters (see § 25). Freedom of movement is to be guaranteed in all quarters of the Federation, according to Federation Regulation 5-15.

1.3

A Resident’s duty is to relieve the bodily needs of the respective Citizen. To one Citizen there shall be one resident. In case of a breach of contract according to Section X URH, the consortia in residencia may be legally dissolved.

1.4

The legal Houses of the Federation are the legal guardians of the resident, until the resident acquires a legal consortia in residencia. In case of dissolvement by breach of contract, according to Section X URH, the resident may return to their previous legal guardian.

1.5

A Citizen of any persuasion is to have a permanent resident and a consort. According to Section IX URH, this must be accomplished by their thirtieth year. The respective resident is to be asserted from a House Domain (see § 26).

1.6

It is understood that Citizens and residents be allowed a certain period in time to accustom to each other. This time may not exceed one (1) year. Consorts are to be granted the equal amount of time for adjustment. It is understood that after the maximum of three (3) years a full household is to be established once a consortia in residencia (see § 26) is established.

1.8

Both Consorts are to have permanent residents. Their living quarters must coincide with those of the Consorts. According to Section XII URH; the rights and freedoms of each Consort are not to be infringed by the consortia in residencia.

* * *

The Mistress walked down the lines, lifting her finger every time she wanted to inspect one of them. The latest batch was lined in an avenue, naked and chained of course. They were from the Islands and wilder than the usual ones, so unruly they had to be kept on their knees. Those the Mistress thought worth her while were prodded and often yanked to their feet. At this stage they were still savage, but once sold, it was no longer Gordec’s problem. He was taking a risk with this batch, but someone had tipped him off that the Houses were looking for fresher meat, and where else to find it than on the Islands. It had taken weeks to capture this batch and some of his men were killed, but it was worth it. By the look of it the Mistress was impressed.

He watched the Mistress glide down the aisle, followed closely by her secretary, holding onto a ledger and scribbling down whatever the Mistress said in that mysterious language of theirs. The Mistress was impressive in her flowing dark robes. She was not pretty, at least Gordec wouldn’t bed her for any price, too thin, too old, too much of the City on her. He liked them simple, with enough meat on their ribs to hold onto when it got rough, the kind you got down in the docklands, where there were no House Rules to stop you. Just thinking about it made Gordec lick his lips. He had one particular one he went to, a filthy thing that cost him a pretty penny, but Gordec didn’t mind, he got his money’s worth out of her each time.

He would have to wait though until he could pay her another visit, he first had to make sure this deal went through. Never mind her elegance, this particular Mistress was business, and by the look of it she was really pleased with his fare and not just looking it. She raised her finger again, and Gordec prodded, but the kral wouldn’t move. He prodded harder and the kral still stayed on its knees, never mind the sparks the electric made. They were tough these Island kral, tougher than the mainland ones, maybe the reason why the better Houses were looking for them. The clients probably needed some variation.

Finally Gordec had to make the sign. His guards came and dragged the kral to its feet. One thing had to be said about kral, they had perfect proportions. Rumours had it they had made a pact with demons to make them perfect, but who knew. This one here was the strong type and even tried to fight but the Mistress was quick. In a flash she had a hand around the kral’s member, an impressive thing even when limp and the kral went still. Gordec had to grin, this particular Mistress always surprised him. The Mistress weighed the kral’s strength in her pale hands, nodding her head. By the look of it, the kral was ready to kill her if it ever got the chance, but with the Mistress’ holding its worth, even this one wouldn’t budge.

‘He’s perfect,’ the Mistress said, ‘I’ll take him as a well.’

She said something more to her secretary that Gordec didn’t catch and then let the kral go. It was the Mistress’ luck that the men were still there. In a flash, the kral moved to attack her, nearly knocking the guard’s over, but the men reacted quickly. In seconds the kral was on the floor and silent.

‘Are you really sure about that one?’ Gordec asked the Mistress. She nodded, watching the kral bleeding on the ground.
‘With the right training he’ll be excellent,’ the Mistress said, looking satisfied.
‘It tried to attack you, Mistress.’

Gordec usually didn’t try and persuade his clients from a deal, but he’d seen that look in a kral before and it always meant trouble. Real trouble. He wasn’t sure if the Mistress knew it, these Island kral weren’t like mainland one’s. He tried to explain it but all the Mistress said was ‘I like a little spirit.’ Gordec shrugged, it was none of his business anyway.

She bought a total of five that day, all of them Island kral and she hardly haggled the price. Gordec was to send them to the usual place in the Low Don. It was said that after six weeks there, even the wildest kral followed any Mistress. Gordec always wondered what they did to them there, but it wasn’t for him to ask. He got a perfect price for the five, and finally had that wild one off his hands which was more than he had bargained for that night.

* * *

Needle-point heels, glossy, black. A black pencil skirt, a white blouse, stretched tight over pert breasts, a slim black belt. A slim-fitting black jacket matching the skirt. Her hair held back in a strict bun, a pair of delicate black-rimmed glasses. Full lips, flawless caramel skin, striking dark eyes tapering to a clear curve. This is Ji’an in full regulation uniform, a Citizen.

As long as Ji’an could remember, life in the City was structured to keep the Peace. The rules and laws minutely regulated daily life, making Commuters absolutely punctual, and there was a precise amount of hours that you were allowed to stay in the offices. If you exceeded these, the doors locked to your ID and you could no longer return to your workstation. The Federation was rigorous in keeping its Citizens healthy, rested and at peace, for which Ji’an was grateful. She could not think of living any way else.

Like all other Citizens, Ji’an was raised away from her biological parents in a Home Circle. Long before the Reconstruction began, the Sages understood that blood ties were destructive to the overall peace of the society due to their strict confinement. It was no surprise then, that once the Reconstruction began, ‘families’ as they were known in those dark times were freed into Home Circles.

One day she, Ji’an Taiyge, woud fulfill the Duty too, for each Citizen had the duty of ten years to supervise a Home Circle with ten, maximum twelve children, though six were the norm. The children, who were never biologically related unless they were twins, were raised together as siblings, each equal to the other. They all knew their biological parents, of course they did, only the criminally insane were disallowed contact. Everyone knew their birth mother and birth father, the records were always updated and easily accessible, but there was little contact. There was no need really, the Home Circle was what was important. It was, Ji’an had observed, simply nice to know.

Now at twenty-five, Ji’an knew her place. She and the rest of her Home Circle had left the Low Don at the age of ten, and joined the Institute near the High Falls like everyone else. Ji’an still remembered the grand ceremony of Leave Taking. Tula and Maso, their guardians, had cried tears, for now it would only be them again, their ten years of guardianship were over. There had been many hugs and many kisses, everyone was crying, and Ji’an had wondered how it must have been, back in the violent days, when the people you left also shared the blood in your veins. She could only imagine how difficult it must have been if they all already cried when saying goodbye to Tula and Maso, Olen even running back to hug them once more. In that, blood ties must have made Leave Taking torturous. It was right then, what the Sages decided. One should not get too attached, it clouded the mind.

Once at the Institute they learned the Laws of the Federation, and by their twentieth year they were finally of age and ready to actively partake in the necessary endeavours to further the Peace. Each of Ji’an’s Home Circle had chosen their profession according to their skills, all seven of them had talents the Federation needed, Tula and Maso had done well. Now they all played a valuable part in sustaining the peace and prosperity the Federation created after the Reconstruction. It was a stability needed to help those parts still torn and deranged by the darkness of the War, to heal, recuperate and join the Federation’s measures of Peace.

Ji’an had no doubt about this. It was a fact of her life, and she rejoiced in it. She knew of the immense value of the Peace, the food, clean air and water, the simple stability she was able to enjoy after so many, too many decades of disaster. She had seen the Fleet Communications, she had watched the DeNost Journal, and there was always, always the Siege of the Seven Stars and all its horrors… Even now, Ji’an could shudder at the mere thought. So now, of age and firmly in her place, Ji’an Taiyge knew what she was grateful for.

October 9, 2014May 17, 2020

Dana is crying and Christie is trying to calm her down. They were on their break, smoking a cigarette in front of the diner. The group of girls turned up like a hard cut, suddenly they were there, looking like so much trouble Dana had no time to adjust. Many things were said, but the one sentence Dana remembered was, ‘I see your sleazy ass one more time and I’ll fuckin’ cut you, bitch, I’ll fuckin’ cut you!’ said so close Dana could feel her breath on her skin.

It had taken all of Christie’s hard-nosed cool and the general crowd on the street to keep the woman from making it worse for Dana. She fled into the kitchen after the rest of the group dragged the screaming woman away. Dana refused to come out for five minutes. She had never been called ‘slut’, ‘whore’ and ‘white trash’ in the middle of the street. Now it had happened. Kelsey had warned her the city could get rough, Kelsey, her best friend back home.

‘Be careful, ok? They do things real different over there. Like real different. You’ve gotta toughen up some. You’ve gotta stop bein’ so nice all the time.’

Hearing it was one thing. Actually living through it…. Dana’s hands are shaking, she can barely hold the coffee someone gave her. Christie keeps on looking at her like that. Dean who manages the grill just came out to check on her. Jenny the manager asks her for the third time if she’s all right. Dana nods, holding back the tears. Jenny doesn’t believe her, but she doesn’t say anything either. She turns and tells everyone else, ‘All right, all right, show’s over, get back to work.’ Christie won’t let Dana bus tables for another five minutes, Dana doesn’t mind. She spends her five extra minutes breathing consciously like the councilor said. She makes a conscious effort to center herself. It doesn’t change the fact that she recognized the violence in that woman’s eyes. And with recognition memories kicked down doors Dana thought she’d locked firmly shut. At least now she knows how to shut and lock them again.

Jenny lets Dana go home early. ‘You don’t look good, honey. Go home, have some rest. See you tomorrow, ok?’ Dana nods, ‘Ok.’ Christie’s allowed to take her home, Dana saw her talk to Jenny seriously. In Dana’s apartment, Christie makes hot chocolate and cooks up some pancakes, while Dana sits huddled on her couch, staring out of the window. Her hands still tremble a little but she can hold her cup steady again. Now, safe within her own four walls, Dana realizes that she should have expected something like that to happen. She’d never seen such venom spewed so openly though, right out there in the street. The last person who shouted at her like that was Bobby, and that was in her flat.

Bobby.

Dana drinks from her hot chocolate, it’s smooth and sweet, filling her with warmth and comfort. Yes, Bobby. Bobby who she trusted like a kid, a child barely walking. Bobby who got drunk a little too often, but she didn’t notice until much later, about a year after they got together. Bobby who after that one drink too many suddenly turned into someone who threw things and hit her.

The first time was such a shock Dana stayed, she couldn’t believe it happened. It had to be a mistake. And he was very drunk. He’d been out with his boys again and Dana got angry. They started arguing, shouting, and then it happened. She couldn’t believe it, so she stayed. It had to be a mistake.

And then it happened again. Dana was so horrified, she packed her bags, took the car and drove the sixty minutes to her Mom. Bobby came looking for her the very next day. He brought her this huge bouquet of roses, the really good ones from Paradise Road next to the French café. He went down on his knees in the middle of her Mom’s tiny living room and said he was so sorry, so sorry, she didn’t know how much. He swore he would stop with the drink. He swore it would never happen again.

Her Mom was watching, her Mom who thought Bobby was ‘such a fine young man. And from such a good family, too,’ as if that made it really worth it and Dana should stick it through. So Dana said, ‘Ok.’ Deep down she didn’t trust it, she knew that now, but back then she didn’t believe what was happening. This was Bobby. He was always so sweet to her. They’d been to Hawaii together, ten days on Maui in a beautiful bungalow he rented. It was her birthday present, Bobby paid the whole thing. His family had the money, his Dad had a company that sold parts to Ford or Chrysler or maybe GM, one of the really big international ones. And his parents really liked her.

They always had Sunday brunch with them, they had this beautiful house down Lanagan Street where all the houses had pillars and beautiful terraces with couches and plants. No. 251 even had a couch swing. They always had Sunday brunch in Lanagan Street and Dana was always invited to the parties, or ‘do’s as his mother called them. They always teased her that she was going to be the next Mrs. Hillard. And they really loved Bobby, Dana always felt he could tell them everything.

That was the Bobby she knew. Bobby who was Mr. and Mrs. Hillard’s genuinely charming son. He was deferring Harvard (Harvard!) to help his Dad in the company, his Dad was still recovering from a bad heart attack. Bobby had friends and buddies everywhere, he was always getting invited to places. Everybody liked him, there was no one Dana knew who didn’t like him. He made people laugh. That was the Bobby she knew. He really just had to stop with the drink. So she went back and it went well for a long time, at least six months. Dana started thinking maybe she was being too tough on him, he really was trying. Maybe it really was just the drink, he hardly touched it anymore. And it was ok if a guy was a little jealous, wasn’t it? It showed that he really was into you, even her Mom said so, especially with such a guy like Bobby. ‘He could have anybody and he chose you.’ Even Kelsey agreed.

So Dana stayed, longer than she should have. She stayed until the last time, a Saturday night where she came back to her place from going out with Kelsey and her wild friends. Bobby had moved back in with his parents after his Dad’s bad heart attack, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his old man, so Dana still had her own place. They did keep on talking about moving in together. Bobby really wanted to, Dana just didn’t want to live with his parents. They’d been looking at places close-by that time. Bobby was at her place that night, waiting at the door, smoking his cigarette on the steps. He was very angry. Apparently he’d seen her with someone, it didn’t matter that they were a whole group. That’s how it started, that Saturday night when she went out with Kelsey and her friends who weren’t exactly normal but really nice.

Dana held her cup tighter, pulled her legs closer. She had started to tell herself that it might have gotten much worse if she hadn’t screamed her lungs out, bringing the neighbors down the stairs and into the flat. It might have been much worse. All she had was a cracked rib and a bad concussion. It could’ve been worse. She’d heard about worse in her group. At least she had the sense to scream for help. That’s how she saw it now.

It was a warm summer night so everybody had their windows open. That’s probably why the neighbors heard. They were two, the community college guy Mark and his car mechanic friend he always had over, Stu. Stu had fixed Dana’s car for a decent price when it decided to break down again. It was Mark and Stu that night. They ran down and dragged Bobby off her and that’s when the fight started, but Mark was quick and Stu was strong. Stu kept Bobby pinned down while Mark called 911. Dana was in a corner, clutching her knees, immobile.

The police made her file a restraining order. Officer Sanchez was a woman and she didn’t ‘give a fuck if it’s the Hillards.’ She said that straight at Officer Kirkland who Dana had seen at Mrs. Hillard’s parties a few times. He always seemed to be have a really good time. Officer Sanchez didn’t care, she was furious. She’d reached Dana first, saw her face and shouted, ‘Kirkland! Look at this!’ Dana wanted to hide herself but Officer Kirkland was already there and saw everything. Dana still couldn’t forget the look on his face. Right then, she felt like something so broken, she knew she couldn’t be repaired again.

Dana didn’t want to sign the restraining order though. She didn’t want to make it worse. Officer Sanchez didn’t like that. They argued, Dana tried to explain. There’d just be trouble for her Mom who worked in one of the Hillard’s downtown offices. Her Mom was too old to find a new job if they fired her, people didn’t need secretaries that much anymore. Officer Sanchez said she’d make sure that didn’t happen. If they fired Dana’s mother, what happened to Dana would be in the paper’s next, Officer Sanchez would make sure it was front page news. Officer Sanchez looked like someone who could pull that off.

Dana still didn’t want to make the Hillards angry. Mr. and Mrs. Hillard had always been very nice to her, kind even. If she put out a restraining order on their son, that’d be the end of it, they’d never speak to her again, and if the Hillards stopped speaking to you, basically everyone else did. Just thinking of the whispering that would happen was bad enough. Officer Sanchez slammed her hand on the table, stared straight at Dana and said real calm, ‘You sign that damn paper, girl, otherwise next time he’ll be after you with an axe and there ain’t no stoppin’ that with your hands. You wanna live? In peace? Put your fuckin’ name on it.’ Her exact words. Officer Sanchez looked like she knew what she was talking about. She’d been with Dana through everything from the hospital to the questions at the station. She’d been there, through all of it, and made sure Dana knew exactly what was happening. If Dana had questions, Officer Sanchez answered them. She didn’t care how often Officer Kirkland asked her to ‘tone it down’ or ‘be careful’. Officer Sanchez wasn’t out to mess up her life, rather the opposite. So Dana signed the order.

She left after that, moved far away, deep into this city where she was just another face and another name, Dana, calling her Mom regularly to check if she still had her job. She still did, but life had really changed. She had to go shopping in Newton West now because shopping at home was no longer possible, people stared and whispered too much. A lot of people stopped talking to her, but Rachel and Melanie were still her friends, so it was ok, her Mom wasn’t all alone. And Kelsey did drop by every now and then to say hi, sending Dana texts right after like She’s doing good with a thumbs-up. And now, three years later, someone else screamed at her like that again, with eyes promising far worse to come.

Dana feels nauseous for a moment, but forces herself to stay calm. She tells herself she should have known, she did see them together. She should never have agreed to join him anywhere. She promises herself to never see or speak to him again, and takes another sip from the hot chocolate. Christie really knows how to make it. And the air smells wonderfully of fresh pancakes. She’s all alone here, yes, everything is still very strange and different, but there’s Christie who’s a real friend. The door bell rings, sharp, making both Dana and Christie jump. Christie presses the buzzer and opens the door without checking. Next, Samantha comes bolting up the stairs, shouting ‘Sorry I’m late!’ Dana sits up, surprised, Christie must have called her. Sam runs in right then, all anxious, ‘Dana! Sweetie! Are you ok?!’ Dana feels relief and joy bloom bright in her body. Yes, she has friends here, real friends, and for that she is very grateful.