The Verse:
When heaven is hell,
All shall be well.
The Vision:
This was just a snippet, on the tail end of another vision. I’m sitting in my bath with Suibhne, and he whispers, “It’s a secret.” I can’t describe how I felt – I’ve never felt like it before – a mixture of absolute terror and elation at the same time.
Commentary by Archbishop Co’oal Venesti:
A vision of profound mystical significance. The madman is in direct communication with the soul of God, reiterating the message of benign salvation first voiced by Julian of Norwich.
Commentary by Elma, High Prophetess of Skarsia:
This fucking scares me.
Commentary by the Madman Suibhne Ennis:
Suibhne is looking at photographs. Photographs are more or less confusing than holographs. Photographs are less confusing because there are actual physical patterns of ink. They are more confusing because they are flat. Holographs are more confusing because they are patterns of energy. They are less confusing because they take up space.
Did you know that many Cu’enashti are potters? Dolparessan pottery is famed throughout the galaxy. It is sold at a premium to the tourists.
Do you see the connection?
I don’t either, because Suibhne is not looking at pottery, which would be something easy for him to understand.
This is why Suibhne likes to play with toy soldiers. Davy plays with him. Davy likes toy soldiers because they are a kind of puppet. Davy likes puppets. Everything is a puppet to Davy. By inference, Davy should like everything. But Davy doesn’t like broccoli. The logic is correct, but the conclusion is not.
Story of my life.
Oh, it’s nothing personal about the broccoli. Broccoli is actually quite pleasant. Not very talkative, but who is?
People. People never shut up. That’s why sometimes it’s nicer to sit in a field of broccoli.
Suibhne never shuts up. By inference, Suibhne is a person.
No. If I said that girls never shut up, so by inference, Suibhne is a girl, it wouldn’t be true. I’ve made a mistake.
But Suibhne is a person. I’ve reached the right conclusion with the wrong logic.
Story of my life.
*****
Somehow, I’ve gone wrong and have to start over again. But it’s okay. Seth said that if I write this, Mickey can’t see it until it’s done. That means it doesn’t have to be linear. It doesn’t have to make sense right away.
It might never make sense. We’ll see.
Take two: Suibhne is looking at photographs. They are photographs Driscoll has taken. Driscoll has taken photographs with every method he could find, from superplex digi to homemade pinhole camera. Driscoll likes to experiment.
The truth is that Suibhne has stolen these photographs from Driscoll. They were the ones Driscoll was going to destroy because he didn’t like them. But Suibhne likes them. Suibhne cuts their faces out with scissors and pastes them to the heads of his toy soldiers.
Driscoll destroys a lot of the things he doesn’t like. It’s scary. It’s good that Davy isn’t like that. But then, everything Davy makes is perfect, and Driscoll makes a lot of mistakes.
Driscoll is smarter than Davy. Being smart can be a disadvantage.
Now Suibhne has an army of photographs. They are photographs of emanations. An army of emanations. He wonders what to do with them. It doesn’t seem right to have them fighting anymore. He’ll have to get new soldiers to do that. Davy can make him some new soldiers.
Suibhne knows what to do. He puts them in a box and goes upstairs. Tara is taking a bath. He forgets to knock. It doesn’t really matter, but it is polite, and he can hear Patrick chastising him. Cillian or Wynne wouldn’t have knocked either, but they would have deliberately not knocked. Callum would’ve waited patiently at the door.
“I made these for you,” he says. The soldiers are made of fleshiwood. They stand and salute.
Tara takes the box and looks at him curiously. “Thank you,” she says.
“It’s so that you can have them all at once,” he says.
Tara puts the box down and throws her arms around Suibhne.
After a minute, she says, “Why don’t you come into the bath? Hang up your uniform so it won’t get soggy.”
It is a little soggy where Tara’s arms were wet, but Suibhne doesn’t mind. The soggy places have something like a glow to them. It makes him a little sad to take the uniform off, but Tara wants him to come into the bath. That makes him happy.
He pulls his long hair into a ponytail so that it won’t get wet.
Suibhne will go into the bathroom. He will go because things are happening in order now. They are happening in order because Tara is there. If he looks over his shoulder, he sees Tara a few moments ago, clipping her toenails.
He eases himself into the steaming water. “It’s funny,” he says. “Toenail clipping technology has been pretty much at a standstill for thousands of years.”
“I suppose that’s true,” says Tara. “I think they experimented with genework that stopped the nails from growing, but it was more trouble than it was worth. Sometimes, the simple way is best.”
Suibhne is quiet for a moment. “What does simple mean?” he asks finally.
Tara turns around, wriggles between his legs and leans back against him. Now his arms are wrapped around her, her breasts supported by his forearms, and his cock is pressed against the small of her back. It’s getting hard. “Mmmm, maybe uncomplicated?” she answers.
“Like broccoli?”
“Broccoli is actually rather complex. It’s a multiple flower system. The branching is similar to the branching of trees.”
Suibhne has to laugh. Tara is so funny sometimes. “I meant to talk to,” he says.
“Do you talk to broccoli often?”
“Nah. They don’t have much to say.”
“That implies that they do have something to say. What’s the most interesting thing that broccoli has ever said to you?”
Oh, Tara is smart. That was a logical statement, and now Suibhne has to back it up. But he can’t really remember broccoli saying anything. He could admit his mistake. But that wouldn’t be very interesting.
“A stalk of broccoli once told me that Tara is the most beautiful thing in the universe.”
“How perceptive of it.” Tara snuggles back closer. Suibhne congratulates himself for navigating his way out of a potentially awkward situation.
He’s happy now. So happy that he can almost remember the reason he’s here. Well, he had to make the soldiers, that was part of it. Yes, he remembers. “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well,” he says.
“That’s nice.”
“Just so that you’re not afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of anything.”
“That’s a tall order,” she said. “But I trust you.”
“I’m crazy.”
“That’s why I trust you. You don’t have it in you to lie.”
Suibhne feels kind of bad now about the broccoli. But if broccoli could talk, they would certainly say that Tara is the most beautiful thing in the universe. So it isn’t quite a lie. “That’s good,” he says quickly. “Because I and I knows now.”
“Knows what?”
“What happens after you die.”
Tara jerks around quickly, so that she can look him in the eye. Her face is all mixed up. Suibhne doesn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s all right,” she says, running her fingers through her hair. Somehow, he frightened her. But didn’t he just tell her not to be afraid?
He reaches his hand to touch her face. “I’ll make it all right,” he says. “I and I made me to keep going when we thought you were dead. It couldn’t be done. I was made to do something that couldn’t be done. So if you ever need something that can’t be done, I’ll do it.”
“I see,” she says. He isn’t sure she means it.
“I’ll make it all right when you’re dead. I didn’t do it before because I couldn’t. You weren’t really dead. But when you are dead, I know what to do.” He lowers his voice. “It’s a secret.”
There’s something wild about her eyes. Suibhne recognizes it. He knows what madness looks like. And then she says, “Don’t you want to fuck?”
Suibhne knows she’s trying to distract him. It works.