The Cream Soup Spoon.
That's a quantum that I have written.
Not a novel.
A quantum.
I think I may have invented a new format for fiction, but probably not.
I'm just a kid from N.E. Portland.
And we never amount to much.
Here is the almost end of that quantum.
****************************************************
The silence had returned.
But not for long.
The door in the entry began making opening sounds.
“Damn! I need to get that latch handle fixed”.
She remained in the entry rattling the latch and muttering.
The sled, Lancelot, Bert, Gympy, Celine and the machine in the corner by Bert’s grave all glowed blue and were gone in a whiff of ozone.
Peter sat on the couch with Rose, Cinq and Alfie.
The fire was guttering to coals but it still cast shadows and hints of colors into the greater part of the room.
The windows were showing near full light.
Karen came around the edge of the fireplace and Peter stood up from the cats and the couch.
“I would have preferred to not have gone this way”.
“I know; I don’t like it either, but you are at risk staying here”.
“At risk for what”?
“I can’t watch you 24 hours a day; when you have one of your memory losses the number of things that can happen are many and none of them are good”.
“It’s not forgetful it’s seeing other things; I have always seen other things, just now it’s much more often and – I will admit – more other”.
“We have a ferry to catch; your room at the Center is all ready for you”.
“I wish I were ready for it”.
“That will come with time”.
“As we both know, time is something I don’t have”.
The cats had gotten down and taken position in the middle of the space between Karen and Peter.
They unleashed three yowls of misery and rubbed against them both.
A dark but transparent formless shadow crossed the room and exited the corner by Bert’s grave.
“OK; let’s go”.
“I love you Peter”.
“I know”.
“I love you too; it’s just that not being somebody is hard to accept after being the leader of the pack”.
Karen looked uncomfortable but said nothing.
But she thought “God damn this damnable disease”.
The ferry left on time that morning.
“Nice view of the mountains”.
“Mountains are nice”.
“I bet the food is great”.
“Beef stroganoff all the time; I think somebody has a relative in the sour cream business”.
“These little amuse bouches are, shall I say it? amusing”.
“Celine, your bullshit is at least that – amusing; I haven’t had any stimulation in so long; I miss the mission; I miss the group; I miss life; in fact, life is nearly gone for this iteration, and I’m embracing that fact with vigor; it’s hard not to intervene; but after all these iterations, I know I have to let the slime of time have its way with me”.
Bert came over and grabbed an amuse.
“Not bad: anchovy paste; I’d have preferred a full body sardine, but the flavor is there”.
“Are there any more? You always hog the good stuff”.
“Alfie, just look, there are at least ten more”.
“Little sister, you have the nose in the family”.
“And you are the blind one”.
Rose grabbed one for herself and pawed one over to Alfie.
The door opened and Karen came into the room.
“The report is good; he’s dying”.
A cheer that could only be heard in their heads arose to the skies and down to the visceral parts of all that is.
Peter momentarily lost his grey pallor and glowed pink.
“Living by the directives is hard, but rewarding in the end”.
Celine came across the room to Karen.
She put her hands out; Karen put hers out and grasped each other.
They chanted in unison.
"I am he as you are he, as you are me and we are all together
“See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly;
I'm crying"
“But not crying for Peter”.
And another silent cheer shattered the multiverse.
And all was good for a moment.
There were, in that instance, a muskrat, five cats and three humans.
Whoop, Whoop, Whoop echoed out into the soundless fastness of soundlessness.
But all was good, just then.
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