Let There Be Light: Sc.05


                                            >THWUNK!

                                            >Two pieces of wood fall to the grass, your axe between.

                                            >Axe? Hammer?

                                            >Maul, you guess.

                                            >You pause before picking up another piece to split, resting your maul against the stump you’ve been using.

                                            >Definitely a workout, though.

                                            >But that too is a good thing.

                                            >”I could handle that labor for you.”

                                            “That would make it pointless.”

                                            >”It would?”

                                            >You turn after you drop the next piece on the stump in front of you.

                                            >A wolf is weaving itself together, suspended in the air in front of Noire as she watches intently.

                                            >Its skeletons and guts already in-place before you turned; its tendons and ligaments and muscles are knitting themselves around its frame.

                                            >Honestly, it’s pretty horrifying.

                                            “Well, first, it gives me an excuse not to watch that.”

                                            >The wolf’s self-conception slows just as skin starts enveloping its musculature, and Noire blinks.

                                            >“I… see…”

                                            >Oops.

                                            “Not that I don’t appreciate your work!”

                                            >She looks over at you finally, said work frozen before its skin can close.

                                            “More importantly, I want to become a good example of my kind, for you.”

                                            >She cocks her head. “For me?”

                                            “Yeah. Who else?”

                                            >You look down, and poke your stomach.

                                            “Whoever I used to be may not have been a fatass, but wasn’t particularly fit either. If I’m supposed to be some emissary, I should be closer to our best than our worst.”

                                            >”Interesting.”

                                            “Well, I don’t know about that-”

                                            >”No, the concepts that accompanied that. I am not sure a single individual could embody every manner of being ideal you envision.”

                                            “I don’t have to be perfect, just better than average. Uh, button that guy up for me, will ya?”

                                            >You look back to the stump and hook your maul’s handle with a foot.

                                            >Noire oversimplified a bit; the tool isn’t lighter for you in all cases. You can tell the head is some eight to ten pounds when you move it with your foot.

                                            >When you grab that handle and lift it, however, it feels less than half that weight.

                                            >You rest it over a shoulder as you walk over to her.

                                            >Thankfully, the wolf is now closed up, and it drifts over to where a dozen others appear frozen in time, though all slightly smaller.

                                            >She’s still watching you, as you approach, but some light has left her eyes.

                                            “Aw, come on, now.”

                                            >You reach her side, then use your maul to lever yourself to sit next to her.

                                            “Look at all that, out there.”

                                            >You use its long handle to indicate the surrounding scenery.

                                            >What used to be grassy rolling hills has become its own little ecosystem, through your efforts.

                                            >A mixture of trees now rings the Garden, including sugar maples like the one you’ve been chopping up, that you hope to eventually figure out how to tap.

                                            >Outcroppings of schist thrust up through the soil, a metallic sheen of mica pocked by garnets.

                                            >Bird calls sing through the spaces, the newest addition; Noire tackled some avians before mammals just a few days ago, though nowhere near an exhaustive set.

                                            “In just over three weeks, you’ve really brought this place to life. Progress is starting to slow as we get into more involved projects, but it’s still incredible.”

                                            >You lower the maul and look back towards your house.

                                            “I want to be able to manage at least that. There’s not much I can do to help you out here but watch and explain things, but in there I can at least have a little control. I’ve been doing the cooking, but firewood means I can manage its temperature too. Even that you’re helping me with, though, and I’ll need you a little more. I’m pretty sure the wood needs to be dried somehow, and…”

                                            >You look at the maple trees.

                                            >Their leaves are already starting to yellow, slightly.

                                            “I don’t think we have the time to do it normally, at least for this winter’s batch. It’s gotta take longer than a month or two.”

                                            >This winter.

                                            >How much time will you end up passing, here?

                                            >You shake the thought from your head.

                                            “Just want my little contributions. You can have everything else. I’ll handle our home.”

                                            >Noire searches your face for something, but then looks to the frozen wolves instead. “Do you know why I have not freed them?”

                                            “No, why?”

                                            >”A lot of the birds were simple. But these have more associations. I do not really know what goes into their minds.”

                                            >She looks back at you then, but seems reluctant to meet your gaze.

                                            >”Is this need to contribute universal? Should I make them quest for purpose, as you do?”

                                            “I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

                                            >You break the eye contact she seems to feel uncomfortable now, and look at her work.

                                            “I think most animals may find offspring validation enough. The need to prove ourselves beyond that may be unique to us. As you said, we found so many ways to attempt excellence.”

                                            >”Then what for these?”

                                            “We had a habit of humanizing animals in our culture. Talking animals, more humanlike bodies sometimes. We’d always give different animals certain traits though. We could start there I guess.”

                                            >You pick the maul up by its head and point its shaft at the wolves, drawing a circle with its end to indicate the whole group.

                                            “Wolves live and hunt in packs, so they get associated with stuff like teamwork and loyalty. As a major predator, they’re equated with warriors. From the way they hunt, they could represent perseverance.”

                                            >Noire looks back at them, and considers them for several moments.

                                            >Then, as one, their eyes flash orange.

                                            >The smaller, earlier-made ones look to the later, larger one.

                                            >This larger wolf looks over the others, then – not giving Noire even a glance – at you.

                                            >You stare into its eyes, some primal feeling welling up inside you.

                                            >But it’s turning away and bolting, running into the trees.

                                            >The rest of its pack follow close on its heels.

                                            >Not out of fear, no tails between legs.

                                            >You’re not sure what they gained from you, but you’re certain it was something important.

                                            >Go on then, firstborn. Be on your way. Make good what you took.

                                            >”What next?”

                                            “Hrm. Maybe a fox.”

                                            >As most other animals you’ve mentioned, Noire’s able to pick up the gist of its form as soon as you name it.

                                            >As long bones start to form from needles of white, you place the head of your maul between your legs and lean your head against its upright shaft, closing your eyes

                                            >You’re still not going to watch her do it.

                                            >But, eyes closed, you can hear something from her next to you.

                                            >She’s… humming.

                                            >Some music that must be familiar to you, since she can’t pick up on anything you don’t already know, even if you can’t recall it.

                                            >You don’t recall teaching her any music though.

                                            >Maybe it was associated with some animal these past few days.

                                            >It sounds sweet, but more importantly…

                                            >Even if you’re not watching her work, that doesn’t seem to bother her like your earlier refusal.

                                            >Maybe being here at her side is enough for her.

                                            >”What do foxes embody?”

                                            >You crack one eye open to see if her grisly task is complete.

                                            >A dozen foxes, frozen in time, sit some distance away.

                                            >Their smaller size must have let her work faster.

                                            “Foxes are tricksters. Clever, and resourceful. A wolf defeats with determination, but a fox wins with wits. They also tend to have more mystical connotations, but I think we should save magic for thinking beings. We’ll do those later, I guess.”

                                            >Another orange flash in eyes.

                                            >The group looks between each other, then as one, turns to look at you.

                                            >Another strange feeling swells.

                                            >Is it just instinct rising when you lock eyes with other creatures?

                                            >Just as the wolves, they then dart away, this time in every which direction.

                                            >You shake the strange feeling off yourself.

                                            “Alright, something smaller next. Maybe rabbits.”

                                            >Again Noire gets to grisly work, and you shut your eyes.

                                            >She’s still humming that music.

                                            >You can’t put any words to it, so maybe it came from a game or movie.

                                            >“And these?”

                                            >You open your eyes to see not only had Noire worked even faster, but there were many more than a dozen rabbits.

                                            “Heh, it looks like you got some of the idea already.”

                                            >”Oh?”

                                            >She turns to look at you quizzically.

                                            >The light’s back in her eyes now, as you remember it, those flaming irises surrounding and surrounded by black glowing bright.

                                            “Yeah, they’re known for, uh-”

                                            >You break eye contact and wave a hand in an undecipherable gesture.

                                            “Uh, making lots more of themselves. They’re good at fucking.”

                                            >”Oh!”

                                            >She looks back to them, then quickly away, in the opposite direction of you.

                                            “Hey, that’s not the first time I’ve mentioned reproduction. Why did that time trip you up?”

                                            >”I could ask the same. Your embarrassment communicated plainly.”

                                            “And you got it from me? How can you even be embarrassed about something like that?”

                                            >She adjusts her wings and fidgets, but says nothing.

                                            “I’ll have to find a way to be more careful about that, I guess. I still don’t know how it even works.”

                                            >”Next time don’t think it so… loudly.”

                                            “Hrm. Well. Rabbits! They’re also associated with speed, and instinct. They’re also tricksters in a way, but not as well-known as foxes for that. They’re also symbols of innocence.”

                                            >You glance back at Noire.

                                            “Which seems kinda weird given the other thing.”

                                            >”…Indeed.”

                                            >She focuses back on the bevy of bunnies.

                                            >Again, at once, all their eyes flash orange.

                                            >At once they all look at you.

                                            >And at once they all scram.

                                            >Every direction includes, this time, behind you and Noire. A couple of them leap over your legs and past your body, a few others under her wings raised in surprise, in a flurry of furry fleet-footed flashes.

                                            >”They are quite energetic.”

                                            “Yeah, they’re known for that too.”

                                            >”Next?”

                                            “Hrm. A lion?”

                                            >Larger than even wolves, you know this will take her awhile. You rest your eyes, and drop your head back to the wooden shaft in your hands.

                                            >”Impressive sexual dimorphism.”

                                            “Yeah they’re known for the manes and stuff.”

                                            >She’s quiet at first, but eventually slips back into humming.

                                            >A different song this time, but you still can’t place it.

                                            >It might help if she sang it; you don’t even know if it has words or not.

                                            >…

                                            >Hearing her sing might be nice enough on its own.

                                            “Where did you get that music from?”

                                            >She stops humming, but doesn’t answer for awhile.

                                            >Eventually, “From you?”

                                            “You don’t sound very sure.”

                                            >”I am not. Sometimes other things come across when you speak. Things that are not immediately relevant. They are easy to disregard, but maybe sometimes they get… stuck?”

                                            >You can’t help but laugh.

                                            >Quietly at first, but full-bore by the end.

                                            “I can’t believe it!”

                                            >When you open your eyes to look at Noire, she’s staring back at you, startled.

                                            >Fortunately, her first lion is nice and whole.

                                            >”Did I do something wrong?”

                                            “No, it’s just-”

                                            >You shake your head, calming down after the fit.

                                            “Even gods get music stuck in their heads. That’s about the most human thing I can think of.”

                                            >Her surprised expression slowly breaks into a smile. “It does seem to appear unbidden, and refuse to leave.”

                                            “Always. Sometimes the weirdest stuff. Sometimes you haven’t heard it in years and you wake up reciting every verse.”

                                            >”Is music important?”

                                            “Oh, extremely. Maybe tonight I’ll teach you some songs, but it’ll be kinda silly without-”

                                            >You pause.

                                            >Noire could, if she wanted to, reproduce the music perfectly.

                                            >When she first spoke to you it filled the space around you; she wasn’t really speaking at all.

                                            >She could conjure out of thin air the sounds of an entire orchestra.

                                            “-without any instruments.”

                                            >But distracted as she was from her work, it was just her voice.

                                            >You keep finding her limitations come to the forefront of your thoughts.

                                            >How much you’re imposing on her.

                                            >Maybe she’s getting used to it.

                                            >Maybe it’s not so much a problem.

                                            >”I could make some for you.”

                                            “Wouldn’t be much good. I don’t know how to play.”

                                            >”I could probably master one myself, if I tried. I could also reproduce it myself.”

                                            “No. No, don’t do that. On second thought, it’ll be just fine without.”

                                            >You’ll definitely have to hear her singing voice.

                                            >For now, you can just enjoy her humming along with whatever it is, when she gets back to work.

                                            >After awhile, “What do lions represent”

                                            >You open your eyes to find only half a dozen this time.

                                            “Well, they were king of the beasts. So, strength, nobility, valor. Stuff like that. They were considered virtuous and regal. Very popular symbol on coats of arms and stuff because of that. Wisdom and leadership.”

                                            >Eyes flash.

                                            >The biggest, a male with a truly impressive mane, looks you in the eyes.

                                            >Again that weird sensation.

                                            >But instead of immediately leaving, it lowers its head, tosses it down almost.

                                            >Then, it turns and walks, rather than runs, away from you and Noire.

                                            >”Your people invested the idea of each animal with an idea about yourselves.”

                                            “You could say that. Archetypes. If someone exemplified the archetype, you could call them by the animal. Someone clever was a fox. Someone fast was rabbit-like. A brave king we called lion-hearted.”

                                            >”This is instructive beyond the immediate exercise, then.”

                                            “Yeah, I guess it’ll be important once we start making self-aware creatures. A collection of virtues for them to aspire to.”

                                            >”What are some more of these virtues?”

                                            >You think for a moment.

                                            >What’ll take her a long time to make?

                                            >You just want to hear more of her humming.

                                            >You want to hear her singing voice even more.

                                            >Patience, Anon.

                                            >Ah.

                                            >Yes, patience.

                                            ”We can do elephants next.”