( – promoted by buhdydharma )
Once upon a time I started a story. Well, actually, I borrowed some dead guy’s story and decided to add to it, subtract from it and generally mold it into something else.
I’ve been asked to relate a bit more of the story. The last snippet was added to the Ifalong on what we humans describe as November 28, 2008. Much has transpired since then so I need some time to connect to the Rainbow computer, where the files are kept…if only because it is easier to initiate something comprehensible that way.
It might also be time to learn some other parts of the story.
The Engineer downshifted and the locomotive slowed as it traversed a difficult curve.
The Storyteller began a new story. Actually, it was an old story. One of the oldest…and most important. The Rainbow computer had it exactly, it was assumed, but nobody told it as well as as the Storyteller. The Listener became intent on trying to discover previously undiscovered nuance. And the Passenger continued to dream.
Once upon a time, back when there were just a few Travelers along the happentracks of the Ifalong, before the Bigwish that created the locomotive, travel was via nodes with many facets. Beings existed, called Dedos, whose very existence required that they observe the nodes, sense when a Traveler was approaching and touch facet which indicated the arrival. For an extremely limited instant in time, the Dedo and the Traveler would become one and the Dedo would learn the desired destination of the Traveler. The Dedo would then touch another facet and the Traveler would move on however many light years or years backward or forward were required to get to the next node.
This task of the Dedos was built into their genes.
One of the Dedos, Wutan by name, spawned an offspring who was given the name Shantun. After about 30,000 years, with the apparent age of 8, Shantun distracted Wutan from hir job. To be sure, it was unintentional, but the damage was done. At that very instant of distraction, The Madmen were passing through that node. Wutan could have diverted them, but did not. And they released the Hate Bombs upon us all, forever.
Wutan died. Shantun earned the surname The Accursed. And traveling between the nodes was terminated…but too late. The damage had been done. The Hate Bombs detonated in the vicinity of a star named Sol.
The Dedos made it their existential purpose to undo this destruction. After consultation with the mind of the WeaveMothers, they devised a long and intricate plan, involving a Wild Human, a Cuidador, and the Girl With No Name. They would become The Triad: the Artist, the Guardian, and the Girl.
Canyon sensed it first. With Sun passing overhead once again, something changed in the rock formation. Its essence seemed different. Something that had always been there seemed to be lacking.
Shenshi awoke in human form. It would be a long walk to the sea, but she was closest, so it became her duty. The art machine must be delivered to the wild human Manuel so that he could some day become the Artist. Destiny needed fulfillment.
The WeaveMothers have appeared before. In what passes for chronological order, they are here: Weaving Reality, Picking up the rhythm, Nebulous answers to cogent questions, Looking back at the present, Diversity, On the Thickness of Skin, Waging Peace, Stone Soup and dreams.
Having ready Michael Greatrex Coney’s, Song of Earth is also helpful. Or you could just relax and accept the possibility of the Celestial Steam Locomotive passing through the Greataway.