OOM/OOC: Somewhere near the end of things

[creator_raven]

We tell stories, in our Place--stories about the one who made us, the one who gave us land and light, and all other things. They are always the same stories; we tell them to remember him, more than we tell them to entertain. This year, though, we heard a new story. The elders are not yet certain if it is a good one.

We think it is, though. And we are the ones that matter, in the end. Shall I tell you what you missed, while you were sleeping?

Very well.

Now, it had gotten very late, and everyone was gathered around the fire. You know it is near the first frost, so there were very many blankets, and hot cider. I snuck some out for you. Here.

They had just finished the story we know, your favorite the one with the ending, when the strange woman spoke up.

You missed her? Ah. She came out of what looked like a giant stone head. It is like that other story, maybe. Her name begins with an ‘A’, too. Hush, now, and let me finish.

Everyone fell silent, then, and looked at her. Her shoulders were shaking, and we thought perhaps she had been overcome by the sorrow of Raven’s ending. How he grew heavy with weariness, and sorrow, and rage, and flew away into the black, searching for a space where he could be quiet, and see nothing of what our people wrought. It was time for him to be alone, or so the story goes, as he waited for the end of all things.

Silly, you don’t have to end so. You are not like our Bird, neither so old nor so taken with melodrama. You will end as we do, surrounded by family and friends. It eases the passing. And there is time, yet.

Now hush.

It seems, however, that she was not crying so much as stifling laughter. The elders were very offended, because Raven’s fate is no light thing. The black is a fearful place, empty and echoing one moment, full of whispering things the next.

She just shook her head, and wiped at her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” She said, “it’s just, where I’m from, we have a different version of the story. I like it much better, really. You want to hear it?”

There was a great deal of muttering, but eventually everyone agreed that this story should be heard. Anything that lightens the burden our Bird carries is a thing to be appreciated, yes? Even you, when you play in the forest, or splash water on your mother, are doing what you must, to ease things. It is why we leave the machines alone, especially the ones with the yellow and orange squares on them. It is not holy writ, but a polite request, or so the elders tell us.

No, I don’t think it matters, either. You can feel things watching, in that place. And the stone is strange, smooth and unscarred by the passing of years.

Patience! I am getting to the story. So.

The woman slouched a little, and made herself comfortable.

“Now this is a story I was told, by someone who was there. Some of it’s guesswork, I think, because his memory’s going a bit funny. It happens to the old, though. Least it’s not creaky knees. Anyway. Raven left, right enough, and for most of the reasons you’ve given. He was old, and tired, and hurting. You would be too, if you watched people you love doing the same things over and over and over again.”

She looked like your Uncle, for a moment. It was a surprising thing to see, in such a young woman. But experience ages, we know that as well as any.

You do, too. Yes. I know. It is a terrible thing to watch friends fighting. And your cat. Death is hard. Now, on with the story?

“So he flew away, into the black, with the intention to just keep going, out past the end. He wanted to be finished, as far as I can tell. Silly Bird. So he flew, between galaxies, between worlds, between all the things that had ever been, really.”

She rolled her eyes, here. I do not lie. Such a strange woman. Yes.

”And as he flew, he lost bits and pieces of himself. The color of the grass, the look of the sky before a storm, the world with the six-legged sheep, the androids and the telephones and the wars and the children, and the look of the sun in the spring, and birthdays, and death, and laughter.. He forgot everything, pretty much, until it was just his first world, and the dark. And then he was alone.”

Her mouth twisted, here, like yours does when you eat lemons. Silly girl, it’s why I tell you to wait until I’ve made the lemonade. Sugar takes away the sharpness of things.

“Alone, and in the dark, and flying. I’m pretty sure, here, that he wasn’t unhappy. He wasn’t happy, either, but it was better than it had been.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, just a little. We none of us were sure where the humor was. I don’t think was ever very clear, really. Still.

“And then, of course, something hit him. It was big, and boxy, and blue.”

She sounded amused.

“Thumped him firmly enough he got shocked out of the between places, and back into the regular universe. And there were lights, ahead of him. Lights in a very odd-looking building, with a lake and trees and grass, all floating unprotected in space.”

I do not know how it works, either. It’s possibly a metaphor. I don’t know what that is, either, but mother says it, sometimes, when she is teaching. Be quiet, now, or I will not finish.

“You know that Raven’s always been insatiably curious. Fond of sparkly bits, too, for all that he’s not really a magpie. Anyway. He sees this place—bright and shiny and full of people, and because he’s forgotten so much of the stuff he was carrying, he opens the door, and steps inside.”

”He gets hit by apple seeds, and he meets an incarnation of magic, and a girl with no memory. They’re a matched set, those two. Always have been, maybe. Will be for a long time, I know that. ‘t any rate, he helps where he can, and he makes himself a home, and a family. He learns about cookies and glitter, and he teaches about madness and choice and everything else. And he’s happy. It’s not so bad an ending, if you think about it.”

She shrugs, then.

“He’s there still, far as I know, and his story’s not done yet. If he ever makes his way back here, ask him to tell you some. He’s particularly vain, and he likes to talk. I can point him this way, if I run into him soon. It’s more than likely.”

Well, that last part had everyone whispering. Did she really know Raven? Was he still around? Could we hope to have his wisdom here, to show us what we’re capable of?

She laughed, when the elders asked.

“He’s more likely to show you how to bake cookies, or knit a sock, once he masters the rounded bits, but I can get him here, ‘f you like.”

Then she stood up, and went back to the giant stone head, and went inside.

And this morning, when I woke up, it was gone. I hope she manages to find him, and send him here. We could use his help, I think. The mainland is getting restless.

No. It is not for you to worry about. We will ride to war, if we must. But they have woken the machines, you can smell it. I do not know what will stand against them.

Still. There is hope, if she hurries. It is all we may do.

Cake for breakfast? I am not certain that’s a fine idea, but allowances should be made sometimes. I’ll sneak you some, from the kitchen. Wait here.