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The Book of Lafu by Ileein
Merit for April 2010
I feel them coming.
I feel them coming as I wake, turning over to wash my face in the utilitarian
basin provided for me.
I feel them coming as I dress, pulling on the rag-tag assortment of clothing
that is all that remains to me.
I feel them coming as I eat, consuming the dull and unenjoyable broth which my
benevolent keepers have given me.
I have lived in this crystal city since its refounding. I have held duty after
duty, working hard and then being shunted along sideways to another... but no
matter my occupation, I watched. I have always watched.
My favourite position was as a tender of the Aviary, once. They dressed me in
good, strong leather and sent me out to clean up after the birds. It was then
that I saw them. Watching me. I knew them. I knew they were coming.
I did not remain in the Aviary for long.
I turn over on my little cot and stare at the ceiling. Ought I to warn my fellow
Hallifaxians? It is a good question. What have they ever done for me?
Oh, they gave me their pity, and the mercy of the State. Good for them. But now
I lie here, in this cold institutional room, and I watch, and I wait.
Another job I liked was as a junior sub-assistant mechanic in the Lower Wards. I
got a chance to look at the great Generators, then, as I swept out the detritus
beneath them, keeping them looking clean and bright. It was then that I saw them
again, sitting there in plain view. Watching me.
I did not remain at the Generators for long.
They thought me mad. That is why I am here. But is it madness to see what is
coming? To warn them?
That is true. I have already warned them. This requires thought.
After I rested for a time following my job at the Generators, I became an
attendant in the Crystal Gardens, taking care of the mounts of visitors and
citizens. It was peaceful work, sweeping up the dung and casting it over the
side of the city. It was then that I saw them a third time, sitting there on the
crystal railing. Watching me.
I did not remain in the Gardens for long.
I stand up and pace my tiny room, back and forth. Back and forth. I have grown
used to the smell I put off. It comes from having but a tiny basin to bathe in.
And how can I wash when I know they are watching me? Watching us?
Watching. Always watching.
I have heard tell of the Soulless. Of Illith, chief among the Handmaidens. Of
Kethuru, greatest of the remaining Soulless. Of Zenos, trapped in the winds
which we Hallifaxians love so much.
They are worse. They watch. I watch them, but they are always watching me. I
must sleep. There are always more of them to replace those who sleep. Or die.
One day I could take it no longer and I climbed the stairs higher, higher,
higher than I had ever gone, until I could climb no higher and I stood at the
foot of the Spire of the Lawgivers, with the great panorama of the Basin
spreading out around me. I did not look around me as I strode into the Spire.
But I knew they were watching.
Each of the officials I spoke with laughed at my claims. Hallifax was a perfect
city, even so fresh from its dormancy in time, they told me. And the threat I
imagined? Laughable!
I climbed higher. I knew they were watching.
At last I reached the doors of the court of Lilliana Sunfar, the High Supreme
Justice, and to that great personage I presented my case. She pondered the
matter, then with a dignified bang of her gavel, pronounced judgement.
And I knew they were watching.
Now I rest here, watching. And waiting. There is little else to do. It is all
they do, after all, for now.
They tell me I am here because I am mad, and this is the place where people come
to become not mad. To be Corrected.
But I am right, I protest. Can’t you see them? Watching? Always watching?
And they laugh at me. Madman, they call me behind my back, and even in front of
it, at times. Loonie, say the ones who were not raised in Hallifax, who maintain
the superstition that Mother Moon can visit madness upon those who displease
her...
What spirit have we angered, to bring this ancient plague upon us? What God,
what force of nature?
The Soulless I can understand. They, alien though they are, are at least
comprehensible. They seek to destroy.
The ones who watch, I do not understand them. What they seek, I cannot guess.
They simply watch. They are always watching.
That is what I meditate as I lie here. What they want. What to do.
I turn over on my cot, staring at the wall. I have warned them and I have warned
them. They called me a madman and confined me here, to my ruminations and my
madness. Well, so be it.
And yet, I am still of Hallifax. Do I not have my duty? Do I not have a calling
to do what I can?
Ah, I cannot decide. Better to wait. To sleep. To dream. To ponder my own
madness and leave warnings of doom for another day.
And so I sleep, and I ponder, and I wait. And I know they are watching. Always
watching.
I feel them coming.
And then one day my door opens and a tall Lucidian enters. He wrings his
crystalline hands, eyes wide. I smile, inside, but I frown also. For I know they
have come.
I stand, already dressed in my hodgepodge of clothing. “Hello,†I speak,
for the first time in weeks.
“L-Lafu,†he stammers. “You...â€
“I was right. They are here. I will do what I can.â€
The pigeons have come.
And now I am the one watching.