#recursive touch

[jarethmgrim]

Cynthia, in her magic underwear, has been vomiting prophecies again. She has cursed me with a terrible vision… an inevitable vision! The faulty firings of that unstable bond I’ve become so fond of.

The loop must come spiraling loose sometime, surely… with Holstrom consistently acting on his worst impulses, violations will pile up, until Chanda must declare the man irredeemable after all, corrupt beyond saving.

Yet Chanda’s pattern dictates recursion… he sees the echo: Caspian, the clone, young and full of potential. Still moldable, perhaps. Not exactly a blank slate; he is already addicted to the same voltage as Chanda, Holstrom’s generous disease. This perverse similarity becomes the foundation for a new alliance… for Caspian, it’s a path to relative freedom. For Chanda, it’s simple recalibration… if the old god won’t answer his prayers, he’ll just shape this younger deity into one who will.

So a new loop begins! ah, but we’ve hardly scratched the surface of Holstrom’s adventures with his younger self. That must be adequately mapped, first, to inform the new convolution. 

this damned chronicle continues to metastasize. I cannot stop it. Pray for me (but do aim low; I’ve clearly booked the suite downstairs).

[jarethmgrim]

I have been stingy with appearances across the board. The reader is capable of conjuring their own faces, I reckon. Imagination is no feeble thing, doesn’t need its hand held regarding cheekbones and eye colors. Still, there are times when the silence becomes very loud.

I’ve kept Chanda’s form ambiguous so that one may see him in whatever shape, depending on which side they’re peering from. As the loop begun in Recursive Touch iterates beyond my control, I may have cause to reference the corrupted appearance directly; which, interestingly, is never regarded by anyone beyond Holstrom’s initial fascination. I even suspect it might be a visual metaphor for the audience’s benefit only. 

Permit an observation from the crypt, if I may shed my usual … decorum. Chanda’s upload was the most potent scene in the series. To violate a conscious mind, saw off the skull while the subject pleads…! SO unnecessary. So exquisite. The seat of reason dismantled while reason still operates within… That’s just perverse. Sends a rare tremor right to my marrow.

He arrived a fine specimen, yes. Handsome clay, well formed. Easily the best looking of the bunch. But then… daemon Chanda. Well that’s a different gravity entirely. Frankly, that sort of magnetism complicates the otherwise peaceful decomposition process down here.

The aesthetic becomes a useful measure of instability. Holstrom hinted at something which had no time to come to fruition. His ‘fix’ for Chanda and Ping was imperfect, implied need for further sacrifices to maintain integrity. It may seem odd to justify this relevance only now. We’ve already blown past several opportunities for tail grabbing, in my impressive restraint. Imagine. Such are the perils of sharing discoveries mid-excavation. The loop was meant to close, I tell you. I am caught in the maelstrom. I am a weak, weak skeleton.