The Cottage – Chapter Twenty Nine – (Short Story)

Image result for synapses firing
Part One | Part Two |Part Three |  Part Four |Part Five |  Part Six |Part Seven |Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen |Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen |Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty One | Part Twenty Two | Part Twenty Three | Part Twenty Four | Part Twenty Five | Part Twenty Six |Part Twenty Seven |Part Twenty Eight

There was a sensation of whirling, of spinning headlong blindly through ether. It felt like eternities had passed between the clap and the first glimmers of some strange purplish light.

“Holy shit it’s laser Floyd!”  Jim exclaimed facetiously.

“Are you familiar with physics?” Germain inquired.

He could hear the question but see nothing besides darkness, and the strange hazy purple glow.

“Are you familiar with physics?” Germain repeated.

“Apparently not. Unless ya drugged me.”

“There’s no need to force the lock if you’ve got a key.”

“Maybe so…”

“Just so.”

“Uhuh, and uh what the hell door did we just step through here?”

“I guess I should get more specific. Are you familiar with circuits?”

“Sure, I’ve wired a house before.”

“There are countless electromagnetic impulses. That is the universe and its operation. It is one vast eternal brain folded densely to infinity. With time and patience, one can learn to prune this synaptic garden that blossoms in perfect holy Chaos.”

“If it’s so holy…than how come you’re prunin’ it? Isn’t that kinda cocky?”

“The root of chaos is in the seeking of order. Its worship is thus inevitable. Whether I call it holy or damned it will birth and be praised by every principality.”

“So God is chaos?”

“To the untrained God is such an absurdly vast chain of causality, such a solipsistic, self-referential thing; that had religion not risen to facilitate communion, to distill the essence of the unfathomable, only angels would approach understanding.”

“That’s a pretty big word salad you served up to such a simple question.”

“What you are seeing now, is how these mountains draw and transmit celestial light from distant stars. Their pulsing is sentient and wishes to add flesh to its nerves. Seeks this with such zeal that it will have any form. Because the El are divided, it manifests as troops of grey monstrosities chittering the discord that binds them to the ground bass of the errant heart of the fallen.”

“Gnarly.”

“I am talking about a current. They will it one way. It is our duty to will it aright. You, young fool, are merely a very specific transistor that has unfortunately become indispensable to rewiring the aeon.”

Jim wasn’t really sure what all that meant.

“You see, some Angels would prefer that only they would approach understanding.”

“You’re talkin’ bout some cosmic country club?”

The old man chuckled.

“And you want me to crash their Thursday night social?”

“Yes!”

“How?”

“Go to the caves.”

There was another clap. The world returned. Everyone was in the exact same spot, making the same exact motion, as when Jim had slipped into the dark following the first.

It seemed that the old man and he, had just had a private conversation in some secret room.

“What was that purple light?”

“Well, it’s usually more blue round here, there’s no name for it really…but I’ve always called it ‘transcendental electricity.’ We all have it. We are all particles in its waveforms. As individuals and as nations…But of course the El have a stronger current…so its dramatically visible in etheric space. And even in the earth…as I’ve said…it is blue…I believe you’ve seen it. And you will…you must see it again. Go to the caves.”

“Hell no. I’m not getting my city slicker ass stuck in some hillbilly crawlspace.”

“There is no danger for you. Your blood knows the way.”

Jim shook his head.

“Don’t you want to crash the party?”

This time he cocked his head and smirked at the prospect of some good Yuppie thwartin’ possibilities. But he did not relish the idea of dying in some pitch black hole no man was meant to spelunk. Much less a tenderfooted one like him.

The old man held his gaze for a spell and then turned to stare at the fire.

Jim, a few drinks past the limit of self consciousness shifted his attention to Elsa.


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Image Credit – https://approximatefield.wordpress.com/2010/01/27/my-code-synapse-is-firing/

 

 

 

 

 

 

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