Incantations

Ah yes, here's the product of another self-imposed writing exercise, this time to see if I can write some Lovecraftian horror. The lesson learned? I'm not sure, other than trying not to info-dump is hard when your narrative depends heavily on dialogue. Bleah. Oh well.

Video from security camera #2, interrogation room #5A in Counterintelligence Field Activity station located in ______; 19:07 hours, April 11, 20__, ten days before discovery of the Ceres Object, three days before the Cincinnati Incursion, one day after the Lexington Hysteria:

The video is in color, but the walls are dark grey and the floor is concrete so that the video might as well be in black and white. As requisitions for higher quality recording devices have still yet to be approved, the video is of low quality such that the facial features of the subject and the two guards remain indistinct. (For photographs of the subject, please refer to CIFA File #1013AA Babel or the notes of Dr. G. Gustavson.)

The subject is seated in a plastic chair, hands cuffed behind his back and feet manacled to the floor. He is naked, and although the room is set to forty-degrees Fahrenheit, he does not appear to be suffering any discomfort. There are electrodes on various parts of his body that lead toward a machine at another end of the room. The subject is looking at the one-way mirror (framed at the right of the screen). On the top left of the screen is one of the guards in full body armor with his semi-automatic drawn and aimed at the subject’s head. The muzzle tip from the other guard’s sidearm located at the bottom left of the screen is the only sign of the other guard’s presence.

A voice off screen is heard. The quality of the recording is also poor. There is an underlying hiss of white noise.

“I apologize once again for these precautions. You understand that you make, well, quite a few people nervous. I’m sure that once you begin answering our questions, you will go a long way of dispelling our concerns.”

The subject speaks. “Dr. Gustavson, I’m not here to dispel any concerns. And even if I were, I’ve already answered your questions. You just aren’t listening.” Although the image is poor, there is a distinct feeling by several observers of the video that the subject is grinning.

“Well, maybe we aren’t. Please, explain it to us again. It doesn’t do us any good to have you in there like this, and it can’t be too enjoyable for you.”

“This? This is all irrelevant. Dr. Gustavson, did you know the Mayans invented the concept of zero seven hundred years before the Battle of Hastings, and almost a full millennia before the concept spread to Europe from India? This from a civilization that didn’t fucking use the wheel.”

“This is all very interesting, but . . .”

“But you’re not paying attention. Our geography, our culture, our environment drives us. The Mayans invented one of the most accurate calendars in the world at the time our ancestors were painting their asses blue. But they didn’t use the wheel because there were no fucking draft animals in the Americas. The Japanese have a highly stratified society, so is it any wonder that you have to add five syllables to create a negative sentence and three different syntaxes exist depending on whether you’re speaking to a superior, your equal or an inferior? You want me to tell you how I did it, but you’re all so obtuse. What you should be asking is how are they different from us? From where did they originate? Even if you knew the language, that knowledge will not make a bit of difference if you can’t think like them.”

“Well, how do they think?”

“Dr. Gustavson, you know that they say. ‘If you have to ask . . .’”

“Please, none of us have expended the amount of time or energy in the area of . . .”

Subject sighs. “I think I have been patient enough. You’ve found the mounds in southern Illinois, in Lesotho and in Tikrit. You have linguists and semiotic theorists working on this. If you can’t figure it out for yourself, then you don’t deserve the knowledge.”

“I don’t think my superiors will be too happy about your answer or your attitude.”

“Do you want an answer? Really? Hmmmm, fine. I’m just spinning my wheels here anyway. Are the recording devices in working order?”

Dr. Gustavson begins to stutter.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they are. OK, ready for the answer?”

Subject opens his mouth. The audio plays something like a growl or guttural whisper, then becomes inaudible. The video recording warps and then goes to static. After 2.4 seconds, the video reestablishes and, implausibly, is sharper and clearer. There are thin lines on the bottom of the screen (which are determined to be the blood of PFC Walter Hillard–his body has still not been found). Off camera is a hysterical giggling. (Dr. Gustavson will be found playing in his own urine. As of this date, Dr. Gustavson remains in a manic, hysterical state.) The guard in the corner is naked and repeatedly smashing his head against the wall.

The subject is no longer in the chair. He appears walking from the bottom of the screen, back turned to the camera, buttoning up clothing taken from one of the guards. He then turns to the camera and directly addresses it.

“I want you to know this. I want you to know that I came here voluntarily. Do you understand? I wanted you to know the significance of my findings. I gave you every chance, but you just wouldn’t listen. They had so much power, but they didn’t have intelligence as we think of it. They had no need of a binding internal narrative. They had willpower and a binding purpose as an adaptation from a chaotic environment where decoherence did not exist. They had no need for an internal self-referential model of themselves where every possibility existed, but every need to manipulate those possibilities. And they are coming back, and don’t like what we have done in binding the world to one, uniform reality in our image. I will be ready, but I’m afraid you won’t. I would say good luck, but seeing what happened to Dr. Gustavson, well, I feel very very sorry for you all. I’m leaving now.”