âI think about my daughter now, and what she was spared. Sometimes I feel grateful. The doctor said she didnât feel a thing; went straight into a coma. Then, somewhere in that blackness, she slipped off into another deeper kind. Isnât that a beautiful way to go out, painlessly as a happy child? Trouble with dying later is youâve already grown up. The damage is done, itâs too late.â
True Detective, Season One - âSeeing Thingsâ (2014) dir. Cary Fukunaga
"I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself.. we are creatures that should not exist by natural law. We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self; an accretion of sensory, experience and feeling programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody is nobody. Maybe the honorable thing for our species to do is deny our programming, stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction, one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal."
define hole / is a hole a real thing? / Marco Poloni, Black Hole, from The Majorana Experiment, 2010 / Flatfields Fotografien / What We Talk About When We Talk About Holes / Dark (2017-2020) / post / Disco Elysium / Twin Peaks: The Return (2017) / Donnie Darko (2001) / Outer Range (2022) / Kaveh Akbar, from âThe Miracle,â Pilgrim Bell / post / Weizmann Institute of Science / Mathworld / post / post / post / post / Anne Boyer, from âWoman Sitting at the Machine,â in A Handbook of Disappointed Fate / Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords / Dennis Patrick Slattery, The Wounded Body: Remembering the Markings of Flesh / The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, Caravaggio, 1601â1602 (detail) / The Incredulity of St. Thomas, Bernardo Strozzi, 1582-1644 (detail) / Don McKay, from âTwinflower,â Field Marks: The Poetry of Don McKay, intro. MĂŠira Cook (Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2006) / thierryetherve / Pathologic / post / Gregory Orr, from How Beautiful the Beloved / Tomas TranstrĂśmer, tr. by Robert Bly, from a poem titled âTrackâ / Disco Elysium / Anne Carson, Economy of the Unlost / Pathologic 2 / Jonas Burgert, Sand brennt Blatt (2010) / Disco Elysium / Carl Phillips, from âGivinglyâ, Wild is the Wind / from âThe Man With a Hole in His Headâ by Rick Bursky / Rosario Castellanos, âMemorandum on Tlatelolcoâ (tr. Maureen Ahern) / post / Pathologic / The Juniper Tree (Nietzchka Keene | 1990) / John Banville, Eclipse / Twin Peaks / Disco Elysium / VectorStock / True Detective / Night in the Woods
The Hand of the King stood across the way, looming large and intimidating in front of the smoldering remains of the throne. He wouldnât move from there no matter how long Behead hung around out here. Or at least his patience for standing around was always far greater than theirs. Even during the instances theyâd done their best to taunt him, he hadnât responded. Like the real pain in the ass he was, heâd only move once they entered into his arena trap. Where heâd âkillâ them again as heâd done many, many times before.
Beheaded had killed him a few times before too but not in a long while and they didnât stand a snowballâs chance in hell this attempt either. Their health flask was empty and their body was far too damaged to survive more than a blow or two from his massive blade. It was annoyinglosing so many times to him, especially in a row. Did he even remember any of it though? No one ever seemed to comment on the fact that the island was stuck in a time loop so was Beheaded the only one who remembered or knew? Other than Time Keeper anyway, presumably the one responsible for the looping and thus had to know by default. Or was it common knowledge and thus not something worth mentioning? ⌠Perhaps they should try to ask someone sometime.
Speaking of asking about things though, a handful of runs ago theyâd finally managed to defeat the Giant. Heâd called them âKingâ. It had been odd but theyâd quickly put it out of their mind. In part due to their frustration with losing to the Hand again, ruining their good mood gained from beating the Giant. But now that they were thinking of it again as they sat on the ground in a small pool of their current bodyâs blood, staring across at the impassive Hand, why had he called them that?
They had no memories outside of this time loop but theyâd already determined theyâd probably once upon a time been human â or at least created from a human body â based off stuff theyâd found in the Undying Shores. But the King? How likely was that in truth? Impossible for them to say for sure since they didnât know about what might or might not have happened to him before everything completely fell to ruin. But it didnât really matter to them much either way. Except for the fact that if they hadbeen the King that would mean the Hand of the King had been their Hand. It would also explain their irrational anger at the sight of the âKingâ on the throne. ⌠But wouldnât having seen him there contradict the Giant calling them âKingâ? ⌠He hadnât seemed very alive though, not reacting at all to anything so clearly something was up there. Plus the whole time loop thing made for some pretty weird happenings. So it was still possible Beheaded was the King and thus the Hand was theirs.
Itâd be pretty neat to have a big strong fellow like him be at their beck and call. Or at least firmly in their command. ⌠What did hands of kings even do? Were they some kind of special servant guard, second in command, or something else? ⌠It didnât matter, thereâd be no killing him this time no matter what so maybe reigning him back into their control â even if it was only for this loop if he didnât remember in future loops â would be a fun alternative. It would certainly be something different to do anyway; a brief break from being sliced to bits and slicing monsters to bits in turn.
Carefully, Beheaded, stood back up. They took one step closer to the Hand but stopped. How would they reign him back in when they couldnât speak to tell him they were the King he was supposed to be the Hand of? Did they have something to write on that they could toss his way? ⌠No. Nor did they have anything to write with other than perhaps their own blood. So how would they communicate? âŚ
Well if they trying to be âfriendlyâ anyway⌠They took another couple steps closer, putting them near the edge of where his arena would start. Then they lifted a hand in their best attempt at a friendly wave. A foreign gesture to them, probably from even back when theyâd been a human, if what theyâd surmised about what kind of person the King had been was true.
The Hand didnât respond of course but that was expected. However his stance seemed to finally change a little as Beheaded lifted up their crossbow and made of show of putting it on the ground. Next, they pulled their backpack off and made another show of taking out their shield and traps and placing them on the ground next to the crossbow. And just for good measure, they dropped the backpack too before splaying out their arms, palms open, as they strode closer.
This was a stupid idea, disarming themself like a fool before approaching such a dangerous foe. But theyâd have âdiedâ even if theyâd gone in ready to fight like they usually did. So really the only thing at stake was their pride and dignity, which, considering how many times the Hand had âkilledâ them with seeming ease already, wouldnât be thathurt by another such event anyway.
Proving once and fall all that the Hand was still sane, he allowed Beheaded to slowly stride close to him without jumping out to attack like he normally did. He finally moved when they were about three quarters of the way across the arena towards him, lifting a hand in a gesture to stop. It grated on their nerves to do so but they obeyed, dropping their arms to hang limp at their sides as the Hand now started slowly approaching them.
He stopped a foot or so a way, within striking distance for him but safe from them, as if they could actually do anything to him anyway. âWhat?â His voice was deeper than they wouldâve thought but understandably full of suspicion and anger as he glared down at them. Interesting how even though his eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet along with the rest of his face, his gaze could still be felt.
Beheaded bristled under it because who was he to look so disdainfully down at them? Only because theyâd already come this far, they refrained from lifting a hand to flip him off, instead they lifted their index finger in a âwait a momentâ gesture. Then, fighting every instinct theyâd gained during these many, many and increasingly more dangerous and violent run throughs of the island, they turned their back on him and crouched down. They were bleeding freely from multiple wounds, their clothes stuck uncomfortably warm and wet to their body with it, making getting enough on their finger tip to write on the ground with easy.
âI was not aware you were even capable of trying to communicate,â the Hand said as they wrote. Again, they were tempted to snap around and flip him off, with both hands this time, but they refrained once more, hating it and kind of regretting attempting this. But it was too late to back down now and he should apologize profusely to them once he knew the truth. ⌠Or if he believed their lie, assuming the Giant had been incorrect in addressing them as âKingâ or straight up lying, either was possible.
As they finished dotting the exclamation point, they looked over what theyâd written so far. âI am the King!â Perhaps they shouldâve gone with all caps to make it more impactful, too late now though. Now should they write more and offer an explanation? ⌠They didnât really have an explanation though other than the Giant had called them âmy Kingâ a grand total of once. Which wasnât a lot to go on and they werenât sure it was true themself. So their message was fine as it was.
They hopped back up to their feet, turning to face the Hand again. Taking a step to the side, they gestured for him to come closer and read their message. He hesitated for a second or two, just glaring at them before stepping closer to look down.
Immediately his stance shifted. Beheaded began moving before heâd even started lifting his lance but was still a bit too close and not quite fast enough to get out of its range before its end was slicing diagonally through their chest.
As always the âdeathâ blow was the most painful. They started disconnecting from it and the now useless body even before hitting the ground. The thud of the body landing in the dirt helped jostle them the rest of the way out. They pulled the last of their tendrils out andâŚ
An armored boot stomped down on them, flattening them into the dirt and blocking out their vision. Then, adding insult to injury, the boot ground roughly down into them. Rude and utterlyuncalled for! Seriously what kind of asshole did that kind of thing?
There was nothing Beheaded could do about it though. So for now, they used the bits of themself smooshing out around the boot to pull the rest of themself out. A task made more difficult by his weight pressing down on them but they were slippery enough that they could still do it rather quickly. They naturally sprang back up into a blob.
They glanced back at the Hand, glaring down at them and holding his now bloody lance at his side. Even just being able to flip him off would be nice. But they couldnât so before any more harm could be done to their dignity, they turned their gaze away and quickly rolled off. Theyâd be back though. And when they returned, they were going to make him pay for being such an ass.
Down among his nerve-cells and fibres the molecules are counting [experience], registering and storing it up.
-- William James, Principles of Psychology
"Das Verhalten des Traumgedächtnisses ist sicherlich hĂśchst bedeutsam fĂźr jede Theorie des Gedächtnisses Ăźberhaupt. Es lehrt, daĂ âNichts, was wir geistig einmal besessen, ganz und gar verloren gehen kann" (Scholz, S. 34). Oder, wie Delboeuf es ausdrĂźckt, âque toute impression mĂŞme la plus insignifiante, laisse une trace inaltĂŠrable, indĂŠfiniment susceptible de reparaĂŽtre au jour", ein SchluĂ, zu welchem so viele andere, pathologische Erscheinungen des Seelenlebens gleichfalls drängen."
âYouâre alive, Brother.
We canât be killed so easily, you and I.
Though... I had begun to wonder...â
The Foundling and Twin-Sister || Mortal Shell
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