Despair

He had thought that he had given up hope and despaired. He'd accepted the truth: he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to escape that inevitable fate. There were others, his friends, who were more than willing to try to rescue him, but they did not know the insurmountable barriers they would face in their attempt. They would certainly die, and he had not been willing to sacrifice their lives in a futile gesture of defiance against those who even now were coming to take him to his death.
The Inquisitor hovered nearby, her red robes somehow unstained by the filth that coated the floor of the cramped cell. Her painted lips still curved in a perfectly sadistic smile.
Her voice still echoed in his head. 'You know, I could set you free.'
His knees wobbled and he fell to the stone floor. It was impossible, yet for an instant he had dared to believe her. He had hoped that there was a way for not only him to live, but also for his friends to be spared from dying in their search to rescue him. She could order the guards away, take him to the warren passages below the dungeons and set him loose to find his friends and stop them.
He breathed the rank air in ragged gasps. Of course it had been a lie! How could it have been anything else? She had dangled that tiny thread of hope in front of him, just long enough for it to infect him. It had been just real enough for him to believe that life and freedom could be possible for all of them, in spite of everything he knew to be true. And then she had snatched it away before he could even think to reach for it.
Tears fell from eyes he had long thought beyond crying ever again. He had thought he knew despair before, but now would not even be allowed to accept his iminent death with dignity. His calm resolve had been shattered in an instant, abandoned at the slightest chance that hope existed.
He screamed. It came unbidden from somewhere deep within, forcing itself out. His back arched and he strained against he manacles that chained him to the stone wall. Mourning the loss of all hope, it was a scream of final despair. The scream contintinued until it filled his ears, until he was aware of nothing else. It was a scream filled with despair, and filling the despair was something else.
Cold, empty rage flowed through the despair and hopelessness. Rage at the world, at the inquisitor, at himself. Rage born of despair poured into his soul. His freedom had been stolen, his life would be taken, and even the ability to surrender and depart willingly had been denied to him. A dark emptiness coursed through him, following behind the crumbling despair and forcibly lifting up what had fallen.
The scream ended. He slumped back and sat against the wall, his arms held limply above his head by the manacles. His lungs burned, empty, but he felt no need to draw breath. He was empty, and the emptiness sustained him.
"That was impressive," the inquisitor said. He looked at her dully, with empty eyes. She was still smiling, enjoying her game as she stepped closer. "You know, fire and knives are such clumsy instruments of torture," she said, eyes dancing. "They can never wound the soul as deeply as words."
His expression did not change as he kicked out his legs. There was a crunch as his right foot connected with her knee. He hooked the toes of his left foot in her fine red robes and pulled them so that she fell toward him.
Yelling out for the guards, she glared at him with murder in her eyes. "I'll cut off the rest of your fingers for that," she snarled, pulling herself up against the wall.
He didn't bother to draw breath to reply, only waited until she had raised herself high enough. Then he lunged forward and his teeth sank into the soft flesh of her neck. He did not feel triumph or even grim satisfaction to taste her hot blood as it filled his mouth and ran down his chin. Only the rage of despair. There was no hope for his life, no hope even of being allowed to accept his fate or striking a final blow against the inquisition.
The guards opened the door to his cell and rushed in as the inquisitor cried out feebly, clawing at his face. On her ruined knee she could not pull away, and was fighting not to fall again while he still held her in his teeth. He looked at the two armed men with empty eyes, even as the inquisitor thrashed against him. They would probably kill him for this.
If they didn't, he would make them wish they had.

Anti-mad science rant

They had it wrong. All those other mad scientists and supervillains. Remake the world in their image, by their designs, cutting away the unnecessary components to create perfect simplicity. They really didn't understand the world.
Day to day life and the workings of society were easy to understand. The monumentally complex forces which directed our cultures were similarly plain to their eyes. But their understanding would run out soon after. Perhaps they would excell in one aspect, but more often than not, it was by way of that field that they sought to change things to suit them. That doesn't mean anything other than they stepped just a bit beyond the scope of the rules and, looking back, saw a way to cheat.
In effect, they were still playing the same game that everyone else was. The only difference was that they had found a loophole or technicality that allowed them to do things that were barred to the rest of the players. But in that brief backwards glimpse at the game board, they could see other areas which lay beyond the rules, but which they could not penetrate. If they could come here, then it was likely possible for others to go there and find other ways to cheat.
Perhaps it was a conscious action against the theoretical inhabitants of those undiscovered realms, or it could have simply been the subconscious fear all humans have of the unknown. Whatever the reason for it, the pruning off of these budding rivals is inevitable. They try to scale back and limit everything to those areas, once so vast and amazing but now so limited, over which they could be sure of their own supremacy. In doing so, those so-called geniuses become as narrow-minded and unseeing as they believe the rest of humanity is.
Rule the world.
Change the world.
What they mean is change the world so that they can rule it.
The world will always be where we come from when we venture out into those undiscovered realms where the old rules no longer apply and new rules wait. Cutting away parts of it, even in attempts to add new parts, only means that one day we will have to venture out to discover them once again.

trapped

"What's up, Liz?" I leaned on the rail of the deck next to her and watched snow falling in the dark, lit up by the light coming from the windows behind us. My eyes hadn't adjusted to the outside night yet, and all I could see of her next to me were the fluffy white flakes that stuck on her dark jacket and in her dark hair. That was okay; I didn't want to see her face just then.
"Just needed some air," she answered in a half-whisper. The kind you used when you were afraid of your voice cracking.
I shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, I think the music's starting to liquify my brain." From inside the condo, the blaring party-mix easily reached us, even through the insulated windows.
Liz gave a weak laugh and tried to sniff so that I wouldn't hear. "Yeah, my throat's sore from yelling over it."
I turned around to lean back against the rail and give her a chance to wipe a hand across her eyes while I couldn't see. Looking back in through the windows at the party wasn't much better though. I had a full view of Jess sitting on the lap of a guy I didn't know, one arm around his neck and the other tipping back her fifth beer into her mouth. She drained the bottle and leaned backward clumsily to set it down, giving the guy a good look down her shirt before sliding back up to lean drunkenly against him.
I scowled, thinking of how many times I'd seen Jess put away twice as much without even flinching. This was just to make the guy think he was 'getting somewhere' with her. Never mind that the bitch would screw him here in the closet cold-sober without a second thought. It was all just an act to draw him in and get her claws into him. Just like what she'd done to Liz.
Liz sniffed again, pulling me from my murderous thoughts. I turned around again, afraid she might look back and see what Jess was doing inside. "I heard the sun will be out most of tomorrow," I said vaguely. "It'll be good skiing with all this on the slopes."
Liz made an uninterested sound. "Jess is the one that likes skiing. I'm usually done after two runs."
"I heard snowboarding isn't much different from surfing..." I said slowly.
"It's totally different!" Liz declared. "Boarding is just sliding down a hill and trying not to hit any trees. Out in the water, you have to catch the wave and hold it all the way in." She gestured in the air in front of her, trying to illustrate the grace and skill involved in surfing.
I tried not to smile. I'd heard Liz's Surfing vs Boarding rant before, and it was easy to get her going. "When was the last time you got out on the water?"
Liz sighed wistfully. "Two years. I'm so out of practice I probably suck at it by now."
"You should hit the coast again. The economy's good enough now it probably wouldn't be too hard to find a decent job."
"Yeah, that'd be great," Liz agreed, turning and leaning back against the railing.
I winced and turned as well, bracing myself. But someone else was sitting where Jess and the guy had been a second ago. Relief and anger fought inside me: relief that Liz didn't see them, and anger that Jess had probably dragged the guy off somewhere, if not back to her and Liz's appartment
"Jess'd never go for it," Liz said in resignation. "She loves it up here in the mountains."
My guts twisted inside me while I fought a losing battle to keep my teeth clamped shut. "You could go by yourself," I said finally.
Liz went still, and for a second I dared to hope she might be considering it. But then she smiled and shook her head. "I couldn't bear to live so far away from her. Plus, it'd cost way too much to visit each other more than a couple of times a year."
Fuck it. I'd come this far. "No, I meant..."
The music stopped briefly as the mixer re-shuffled the tracks and Liz looked up at me. The sentence died in my mouth when I saw it in her eyes. I saw it all, everything that I wanted to say, to grab her by the shoulders and shout at her. She doesn't love you! She doesn't care about you! She's probably not even bi! The only reason she's with you is because guys think lesbians are hot!
In an instant I saw that she'd heard it all before. I wasn't her only friend. How many times has she had this conversation? She'd probably even had it with herself, trying to convince herself to leave. She tried every time Jess dragged her into a threesome with some guy she'd just met on the slope or in the bar. She'd probably been thinking it fifteen minutes ago when Jess was shoving her tongue down her throat and groping her under her shirt in front of the whole room just to get that guy's attention.
The mixer finished shuffling and the muffled music started thudding through the walls again. Not knowing what else to do, I put my arms around her shoulders and hugged her. She stiffened for a moment before she relaxed and leaned into me. She didn't sob or even sniff, butI felt hot tears running down my neck. My throat closed up and I had to struggle not to break down into tears myself while despair filled me. There was nothing I could say that hadn't already been said, and none of it had been enough.
Desperate plans flew through my head as Liz cried in my arms. I would put her in my car and drive her to California that night, against her will if necessary. I would become a lesbian like Liz just so that I could steal her away from Jess and know that she was with someone who wouldn't do this to her. I would follow Jess and that guy back to their place and run her over with my car.
The music blared suddenly as someone opened the door and stumbled out onto the deck. Beer still in hand, he looked like he was considering throwing up over the rail. Liz tensed and tried to pull away but I held on to her, refusing to let go. The guy noticed us then and blinked blearily through a haze of intoxification. He looked like he was trying to think of what would be appropriate to say to two girls huddled together covered in snow. "'sup?"
I gave him my best Go To Hell glare. Luckily for him, he took the hint while I was still trying to figure out how to get to the taser in the bottom of my purse without letting go of Liz. After a moment of concentration he made his way back inside.
The door shut and the party faded back into the background. I released Liz and she took a step back. "Thanks," she said as she pulled her hair out of her face. "I should go back in. Jess is probably wondering where I went." We both knew it was a lie. "I'm such a mess," she complained, but other than red eyes she looked the same as she always did. The thought made my throat threaten to close up all over again.
I coughed to clear it before Liz went back inside. "Let... let me know if you need a ride home tonight," I forced out. Liz didn't have a car, and Jess had likely given her a ride.
"Okay, thanks," Liz said again before reentering the condo.
I was sure Jess was already gone with the car. She was probably already back at their appartment with that guy. In their bed. If I did end up giving Liz a ride, I sure as fuck wasn't going to take her back there.

Ticktock thoughts

This isn't really a new one, but I felt the need to put it up.

Shapes within shapes always moving, every one connected with every other through motion. Gears formed of circles, squares, triangles, hexagons and greater complexities spun, their cogs interlaced to share kinetic energy with one another. Some combined and built upon each others’ influence, working to output it to yet others which would diffuse that motion into further divisions until tiny gears moved barely fast enough to be discernable, fighting the air itself to turn.
A clock of unknown complexity, built millennia ago but still alive. Its hands and face were lost and forgotten, pointless within the new machine it had become. There was no time any more; only movement. Movement of infinite divisions and directions marching on past the end of eternity without the slightest pause. To the machine, eternity held no more meaning than a year or an hour. It would move through one just as it moved through the other, wasting no effort on marking each increment as it passed. There was no purpose served in marking a point on the great gears only to mark it again each time it came around. How far can one count to infinity before the numbers finally lose their meaning and are discarded as the gears move onward? How far had the machine counted before it forgot what it was counting or why? Before it finally forgot even to count, and all that remained was to continue on as it had, ever-moving?