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philip-ks-dick · 3 years

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Philip K. Dick, For Dummies.

I’ve been researching PK.D for a few years now, as he’s my father’s favourite author and I’ve been watching movie and show adaptations of his work for the longest time. I have personally only read the books listed, here’s the order (I think) you should read them in, based on difficulty level and the knowledge you need of the PKD canon to understand the books that follow. This is purely my opinion based on knowledge of the author. by philip-k’s-dick (lol)

Beginner. (These books and stories allow readers to explore Dick’s pet themes and stylistic quirks without falling too far down the rabbit hole)

The Short Stories: Over the course of his life, PKD wrote somewhere in the range of 150 short stories. Naturally, it would be silly of me to dump all of them on you at once, but undeniably, the shorter format allows the big ideas of Dick’s work to come through more clearly, and even the screwier stories conform to relatively coherent shape, making them an excellent jumping off point, especially for an author who wrote almost nonstop throughout his life.

My Favourites:

In The Days of Perky Pat - In this novel, survivors of a global thermonuclear war live in isolated enclaves in California, surviving off what they can scrounge from the wastes and supplies delivered from Mars. The older generation spend their leisure time playing with the eponymous doll in an escapist role-playing game that recalls life before the apocalypse — a way of life that is being quickly forgotten. At the story's climax, a couple from one isolated outpost of humanity plays a game against the dwellers of another outpost (who play the game with a doll similar to Perky Pat dubbed "Connie Companion") in deadly earnest. The survivors' shared enthusiasm for the Perky Pat doll and the creation of her accessories from vital supplies is a sort of mass delusion that prevents meaningful re-building of the shattered society. In stark contrast, the children of the survivors show absolutely no interest in the delusion and have begun adapting to their new life.

(Elements of the story were later incorporated into Dick's novel The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, written in 1964 and published in 1965, in which a Perky Pat simulation game is induced by drugs and miniature models instead. Palmer Eldritch is not a continuation or sequel however.)

What the Dead Men Say - Death is followed by a period of 'half-life', a short amount of time which can be rationed out over long periods in which the dead can be revived—so that, potentially, they can 'live' on for a long time. When attempts to bring back important businessman Louis Sarapis fail, it's clearly more than mere negligence. Sure enough, Sarapis starts speaking from beyond the grave. From outer space, in fact. Yet no-one seems terribly bothered, other than those directly concerned in the plot mechanics. Eventually entire communications networks (phones, TV, radio) are blocked by Sarapis' broadcasts

(Philip's later novel Ubik is a continuation of What the Dead Men Say)

Autofac - Three men wait outside their settlement for an automated delivery truck. Five years earlier, during the Total Global Conflict, a network of hardened automatic factories ("autofacs") had been set up with cybernetic controls that determine what food and consumer goods to manufacture and deliver. Human input had been lost, and the men planned disruption to try to establish communication and take over control. They destroy the delivery, but the truck radios the autofac and unloads an identical replacement, then prevents them from reloading items. They act out being disgusted with the milk delivery and are given a complaints checklist. In a blank space, they write improvised semantic garble—"the product is thoroughly pizzled". The autofac sends a humanoid data collector that communicates on an oral basis, but is not capable of conceptual thought, and they are unable to persuade the network to shut down before it consumes all resources. Their next strategy sets neighbouring autofacs in competition with each other for rare resources and seemingly succeeds, but there is a hidden level

Beyond Lies The Wub - Peterson, a crew member of a spaceship loading up with food animals on Mars, buys an enormous pig-like creature known as a "wub" from a native just before departure. Franco, his captain, is worried about the extra weight but seems more concerned about its taste, as his ship is short of food. However, after takeoff, the crew realizes that the wub is a very intelligent creature, capable of telepathy and maybe even mind control.

Peterson and the wub spend time discussing mythological figures and the travels of Odysseus. Captain Franco, paranoid after an earlier confrontation with the Wub which left him temporarily paralyzed, bursts in and insists on killing and eating the wub. The crew becomes very much opposed to killing the sensitive creature after it makes a plea for understanding, but Franco still makes a meal out of him. At the dinner table, Captain Franco apologises for the "interruption" and resumes the earlier conversation between Peterson and the Wub - which now has apparently taken over the Captain's body

Human Is - Jill Herrick and her husband Lester are in the middle of an argument. Lester deflects his wife’s claim that he is “hideous” with cold indifference. He tells her that he will not allow their child in the house and will have him removed to government custody because he is interfering with his research. Before the distraught Jill can pass this onto their son Gus, Lester gets news that he will be taking a trip to Rexor IV. Despite Jill’s desire to go there and see the planet, Lester insists that he will go alone.

Later Jill tells her brother Frank and she is going to leave Lester. She explains how happy she has been with Lester gone and how he seems to be getting worse every year of their marriage. More cold and more “ruthless,” not to mention the incessant working.

Lester comes home a very different man. He praises Jill’s cooking and expresses disgust with his work on Rexor IV studying toxins. He says he prefers Terra and being home with his wife.

Jill reports these changes to Frank, while Lester is playing in the room with Gus. Frank has Lester brought to a lab for more studies under the guidance of the Federal Clearance agency. Before long they realize that Lester has had his body taken over by a Rexorian.

The Hanging Stranger - The protagonist, Ed Loyce, is a store owner who is disturbed when he sees a stranger hanging from a lamppost, but finds that other people consider the apparent lynching unremarkable.

He finds evidence that alien insects have taken over, manages to get out of town, talks to the police commissioner, who believes him, and after getting all the information about what Ed knows, explains that the body was hung to see if anyone reacted to it, anyone they didn't have control over. He then takes Ed outside and hangs him from a lamppost.

The Commuter - Ed Jacobson is a railway worker at Woking station. His life takes a turn for the worse when his son, Sam, begins experiencing psychotic episodes. When he is selling rail tickets at work, a young woman named Linda asks for a ticket to a destination called Macon Heights that is not listed on any map.

The Minority Report - In a future society, three mutants foresee all crime before it occurs. Plugged into a great machine, these "precogs" allow a division of the police called Precrime to arrest suspects before they can commit any actual crimes. When the head of Precrime, John Anderton, is himself predicted to murder a man whom he has never met, Anderton is convinced a great conspiracy is afoot

Full Books:

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter for the San Francisco Police Department, is assigned to "retire" (kill) six androids of the new and highly intelligent Nexus-6 model which have recently escaped from Mars and traveled to Earth. These androids are made of organic matter so similar to a human's that only a posthumous "bone marrow analysis" can independently prove the difference, making them almost impossible to distinguish from real people. Deckard hopes this mission will earn him enough bounty money to buy a live animal to replace his lone electric sheep to comfort his depressed wife Iran. Deckard visits the Rosen Association's headquarters in Seattle to confirm the accuracy of the latest empathy test meant to identify incognito androids. Deckard suspects the test may not be capable of distinguishing the latest Nexus-6 models from genuine human beings, and it appears to give a false positive on his host in Seattle, Rachael Rosen, meaning the police have potentially been executing human beings. The Rosen Association attempts to blackmail Deckard to get him to drop the case, but Deckard retests Rachael and determines that Rachael is, indeed, an android, which she ultimately admits.

Clans of the Alphane Moon - War between Earth and insectoid-dominated Alpha III ended over a decade ago. (According to the novel, "Alphane" refers to the nearest star to our own system, Alpha Centauri). Some years after the end of hostilities, Earth intends to secure its now independent colony in the Alphane system, Alpha III M2. As a former satellite-based global psychiatric institution for colonists on other Alphane system worlds unable to cope with the stresses of colonisation, the inhabitants of Alpha III M2 have lived peacefully for years. But, under the pretence of a medical mission, Earth intends to take their colony back.

Against this background, Chuck Rittersdorf and his wife Mary are separating. Although they think they are going their separate ways, they soon find themselves together again on Alpha III M2. Mary travels there through government work, Chuck sees it as a chance to kill Mary using his remote control simulacrum. Along the way he is guided by his Ganymedean slime mould neighbour Lord Running Clam and Mary finds herself manipulated by the Alphane sympathiser, comedian Bunny Hentman.

The Man in the High Castle - In 1962, 15 years after Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany have won World War II, Robert "Bob" Childan owns an Americana antique shop in San Francisco, California (located in the Japanese-occupied Pacific States of America), which is most commonly frequented by the Japanese, who make a fetish of romanticized American cultural artifacts. Childan is contacted by Nobusuke Tagomi, a high-ranking Japanese trade official, who is seeking a gift to impress a visiting Swedish industrialist named Baynes. Childan's store is stocked in part with counterfeit antiques from the Wyndam-Matson Corporation, a metalworking company. Frank Frink (formerly Fink), a secretly Jewish-American veteran of World War II, has just been fired from the Wyndam-Matson factory, when he agrees to join a former co-worker to begin a handcrafted jewellery business. Meanwhile, Frink's ex-wife, Juliana, works as a judo instructor in Canon City, Colorado (in the neutral buffer zone of Mountain States), where she begins a sexual relationship with an Italian truck driver and ex-soldier, Joe Cinnadella. Throughout the book, many of these characters frequently make important decisions using prophetic messages they interpret from the I Ching, a Chinese cultural import. Many characters are also reading a widely banned yet extremely popular new novel, The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, which depicts an alternate history in which the Allies won World War II in 1945, a concept that amazes and intrigues its readers.

Frink reveals that the Wyndam-Matson Corporation has been supplying Childan with counterfeit antiques, which works to blackmail Wyndam-Matson for money to finance Frink's new jewelry venture. Tagomi and Baynes meet, but Baynes repeatedly delays any real business as they await an expected third party from Japan. Suddenly, the public receives news of the death of the Chancellor of Germany, Martin Bormann, after a short illness. Childan tentatively, on consignment, takes some of Frink's "authentic" new metalwork and attempts to curry favour with a Japanese client, who surprisingly considers Frink's jewelry immensely spiritually alive. Juliana and Joe take a road trip to Denver, Colorado and Joe impulsively decides they should go on a side-trip to meet the mysterious Hawthorne Abendsen, author of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, who supposedly lives in a guarded fortress-like estate called the "High Castle" in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Soon, Joseph Goebbels is announced as the new German Chancellor.

Intermediate. (These are the books to pick up once you have the basics of what makes a PKD novel down. They’re obtuse enough to hit a little heavier, but don’t provide the full dose of surrealism Dick was capable of serving up. This is also good spot to jump in if you’ve experienced weird fiction before.)

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said - The novel is set in a dystopian version of 1988, following a Second Civil War which led to the collapse of the United States' democratic institutions. The National Guard ("nats") and US police force ("pols") reestablished social order through instituting a dictatorship, with a "Director" at the apex, and police marshals and generals as operational commanders in the field. Resistance to the regime is largely confined to university campuses, where radicalized former university students eke out a desperate existence in subterranean kibbutzim. Recreational drug use is widespread, and the age of consent has been lowered to twelve. The black population has almost been rendered extinct. Most commuting is undertaken by personal aircraft, allowing great distances to be covered in little time.

The novel begins with the protagonist, Jason Taverner, a singer, hosting his weekly TV show which has an audience of 30 million viewers. His special guest is his girlfriend Heather Hart, also a singer. Both Hart and Taverner are "Sixes", members of an elite class of genetically engineered humans. While leaving the studio, Taverner is telephoned by a former lover, who asks him to pay her a visit. When Taverner arrives at her apartment, the former lover attacks him by throwing a parasitic life-form at him. Although he manages to remove most of the life-form, parts of it are left inside him. After being rescued by Hart, he is taken to a medical facility.

Waking up the following day in a seedy hotel with no identification, Taverner becomes worried, as failure to produce identification at one of the numerous police checkpoints would lead to imprisonment in a forced labor camp. Through a succession of phone calls made from the hotel to colleagues and friends who now claim not to know him, Taverner establishes that he is no longer recognized by the outside world. He soon manages to bribe the hotel's clerk into taking him to Kathy Nelson, a forger of government documents. However, Kathy reveals that both she and the clerk are police informants, and that the lobby clerk has placed a microscopic tracking device on him. She promises not to turn Taverner over to the police on the condition that he spend the night with her. Although he attempts to escape, Kathy confronts him again after he has successfully passed a police checkpoint using the forged identity cards. Feeling in her debt, he accompanies Kathy to her apartment block, where Inspector McNulty, Kathy's police handler, is waiting. McNulty has located Taverner via the tracking device the hotel lobby clerk placed on him, and instructs Taverner to come with him to the 469th Precinct police station so that further biometric identity checks can be performed.

Time out of Joint - Ragle Gumm lives in the year 1959 in a quiet American suburb. His unusual profession consists of repeatedly winning the cash prize in a local newspaper contest called "Where Will The Little Green Man Be Next?". Gumm's 1959 has some differences from ours: the Tucker car is in production, AM/FM radios are scarce to non-existent, and Marilyn Monroe is a complete unknown. As the novel opens, strange things begin to happen to Gumm. A soft-drink stand disappears, replaced by a small slip of paper with the words "SOFT-DRINK STAND" printed on it in block letters. Intriguing little pieces of the real 1959 turn up: a magazine article on Marilyn Monroe, a telephone book with non-operational exchanges listed and radios hidden away in someone else's house. People with no apparent connection to Gumm, including military pilots using aircraft transceivers, refer to him by name. Few other characters notice these or experience similar anomalies; the sole exception is Gumm's supposed brother-in-law, Victor "Vic" Nielson, in whom he confides. A neighborhood woman, Mrs. Keitelbein, invites him to a civil defense class where he sees a model of a futuristic underground military factory. He has the unshakeable feeling he's been inside that building many times before.

Confusion gradually mounts for Gumm. His neighbor Bill Black knows far more about these events than he admits, and, observing this, begins worrying: "Suppose Ragle [Gumm] is becoming sane again?" In fact, Gumm does become sane, and the deception surrounding him (erected to protect and exploit him) begins to unravel

Ubik - By the year 1992, humanity has colonized the Moon and psychic powers are common. The protagonist, Joe Chip, is a debt-ridden technician working for Runciter Associates, a "prudence organization" employing "inertials"—people with the ability to negate the powers of telepaths and "precogs"—to enforce the privacy of clients. The company is run by Glen Runciter, assisted by his deceased wife Ella who is kept in a state of "half-life", a form of cryonic suspension that allows the deceased limited consciousness and ability to communicate. While consulting with Ella, Runciter discovers that her consciousness is being invaded by another half-lifer named Jory Miller

Difficult. (This section comes with a caveat: within these novels you will encounter numerous hallucinations, drug trips, an entire trilogy about gnostic spirituality and mental illness, and more than a little unabashed nightmare fuel. It’s normal to get tangled up in what goes on in these books. It’s also normal to be weirded out. But with proper grounding, you’ll make it though with your faculties intact. Probably.)

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - The story begins in a future world where global temperatures have risen so high that in most of the world it is unsafe to be outside without special cooling gear during daylight hours. In a desperate bid to preserve humanity and ease population burdens on Earth, the UN has initiated a "draft" for colonizing the nearby planets, where conditions are so horrific and primitive that the unwilling colonists have fallen prey to a form of escapism involving the use of an illegal drug (Can-D) in concert with "layouts." Layouts are physical props intended to simulate a sort of alternative reality where life is easier than either the grim existence of the colonists in their marginal off-world colonies, or even Earth, where global warming has progressed to the point that Antarctica is prime vacation resort territory. The illegal drug Can-D allows people to "share" their experience of the "Perky Pat" (the name of the main female character in the simulated world) layouts. This "sharing" has caused a pseudo-religious cult or series of cults to grow up around the layouts and the use of the drug.

Up to the point where the novel begins, New York City-based Perky Pat (or P.P.) Layouts, Inc., has held a monopoly on this product, as well as on the illegal trade in the drug Can-D which makes the shared hallucinations possible.

The novel opens shortly after Barney Mayerson, P.P. Layouts' top precog, has received a "draft notice" from the UN for involuntary resettlement as a colonist on Mars. Mayerson is sleeping with his assistant, Roni Fugate, but remains conflicted about the divorce, which he himself initiated, from his first wife Emily, a ceramic pot artist. Meanwhile, Emily's second husband tries to sell her pot designs to P.P. Layouts as possible accessories for the Perky Pat virtual worlds—but Barney, recognizing them as Emily's, rejects them out of spite.

A Scanner Darkly - When performing his work as an undercover agent, Arctor goes by the name "Fred" and wears a "scramble suit" that conceals his identity from other officers. Then he is able to sit in a police facility and observe his housemates through "holo-scanners", audio-visual surveillance devices that are placed throughout the house. Arctor's use of the drug causes the two hemispheres of his brain to function independently or "compete". When Arctor sees himself in the videos saved by the scanners, he does not realize that it is him. Through a series of drug and psychological tests, Arctor's superiors at work discover that his addiction has made him incapable of performing his job as a narcotics agent. They do not know his identity because he wears the scramble suit, but when his police supervisor suggests to him that he might be Bob Arctor, he is confused and thinks it cannot be possible.

Donna takes Arctor to "New-Path", a rehabilitation clinic, just as Arctor begins to experience the symptoms of Substance D withdrawal. It is revealed that Donna has been a narcotics agent all along, working as part of a police operation to infiltrate New-Path and determine its funding source. Without his knowledge, Arctor has been selected to penetrate the organization. As part of the rehab program, Arctor is renamed "Bruce" and forced to participate in cruel group-dynamic games, intended to break the will of the patients

(If this one seems difficult to wrap your mind around, that's because its a fictionalized account of real events, and you may need to read about Philip's life at the time to understand the autobiographical nature of the book.)

The VALIS Trilogy

(Fictionalized account of religious experiences in PKD’s life.)

VALIS - In March, 1974, Horselover Fat (the alter-personality of Philip K. Dick) experiences visions of a pink beam of light that he calls Zebra and interprets as a theophany exposing hidden facts about the reality of our universe, and a group of others join him in researching these matters. One of their theories is that there is some kind of alien space probe in orbit around Earth, and that it is aiding them in their quest; it also aided the United States in disclosing the Watergate scandal and the resignation of Richard Nixon in August, 1974. Kevin turns his friends onto a film called Valis that contains obvious references to revelations identical to those that Horselover Fat has experienced, including what appears to be time dysfunction. The film is itself a fictional account of an alternative-universe version of Nixon ("Ferris F. Fremount") and his fall, engineered by a satellite called valis. (The plot of the fictitious film Valis was that of Dick's then-unpublished novel Radio Free Albemuth.) In seeking the film's makers, Kevin, Phil, Fat, and David—now calling themselves the Rhipidon Society—head to an estate owned by popular musician Eric Lampton and his wife Linda. They decide the goal that they have been led toward is Sophia Lampton, who is two-years old and the Messiah or incarnation of Holy Wisdom (Pistis Sophia) anticipated by some variants of Gnostic Christianity. In addition to healing Phil's schizophrenic personality split, she tells them that their conclusions about valis (which Fat had previously termed "Zebra") and reality are correct, and more importantly, that we should worship, not gods, but humanity. She dies two days later due to a laser accident caused by Brent Mini. Undeterred, Fat (who has now resurged) goes on a global search for the next incarnation of Sophia.

Dick also offers a rationalist explanation of his apparent theophany, acknowledging that it might have been visual and auditory hallucinations from either schizophrenia or drug addiction sequelae.

Characters:

Phil (Philip K. Dick): Narrator (first person), science fiction writer, author of Man in the High Castle, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, and Three Stigmata.

Horselover Fat: Narrator (third person), a schizophrenic modality of Phil himself. (Philip in Greek means "fond of horses"; dick is German for "fat".)

Gloria Knudson: Suicidal friend of Fat's who Fat is unable to save.

Kevin: Cynical friend of Fat's whose cat died running across the street, based on K. W. Jeter.

Sherri Solvig: Church-going friend of Fat's, eventually dies from lymphatic cancer.

David: Catholic friend of Fat's, based on Tim Powers.

Eric Lampton: Rock star, screenwriter, actor, a. k. a. "Mother Goose"; a fictionalised version of David Bowie.

Linda Lampton: Actress, wife of Eric Lampton.

Brent Mini: Electronic composer, a fictionalised version of Brian Eno.

Sophia Lampton: Two-year-old child (personalised incarnation of Holy Wisdom within some variants of Gnosticism), said to be the daughter of Linda Lampton and valis and the "Fifth Savior".

The Divine Invasion - After a fatal car accident on Earth, Herb Asher is placed into cryonic suspension as he waits for a spleen replacement. Clinically dead, Herb experiences lucid dreams while in suspended animation and relives the last six years of his life.

In the past, Herb lived as a recluse in an isolated dome on a remote planet in the binary star system, CY30-CY30B. Yah, a local divinity of the planet in exile from Earth, appears to Herb in a vision as a burning flame, and forces him to contact his sick female neighbor, Rybys Rommey, who happens to be terminally ill with multiple sclerosis and pregnant with Yah's child.

With the help of the immortal soul of Elijah, who takes the form of a wild beggar named Elias Tate, Herb agrees to become Rybys's legal husband and father of the unborn "savior". Together they plan to smuggle the six-month pregnant Rybys back to Earth, under the pretext of seeking help for Rybys' medical condition at a medical research facility. After being born in human form, Yah plans to confront the fallen angel Belial, who has ruled the Earth for 2000 years since the fall of Masada in the first century CE. Yah's powers, however, are limited by Belial's dominion on Earth, and the four of them must take extra precautions to avoid being detected by the forces of darkness.

Things do not go as planned. "Big Noodle", Earth's A.I. system, warns the ecclesiastical authorities in the Christian-Islamic church and Scientific Legate about the divine "invasion" and countermeasures are prepared. A number of failed attempts are made to destroy the unborn child, all of them thwarted by Elijah and Yah. After successfully making the interstellar journey back to Earth and narrowly avoiding a forced abortion, Rybys and Herb escape in the nick of time, only to be involved in a fatal taxi crash, probably due to the machinations of Belial. Rybys dies from her injuries sustained in the crash, and her unborn son Emmanuel (Yah in human form) suffers brain damage from the trauma but survives. Herb is critically injured and put into cryonic suspension until a spleen replacement can be found. Baby Emmanuel is placed into a synthetic womb, but Elias Tate manages to sneak Emmanuel out of the hospital before the church is able to kill him.

Six years pass. In a school for special children, Emmanuel meets Zina, a girl who also seems to have similar skills and talents, but acts as a surrogate teacher to Emmanuel. For four years, Zina helps Emmanuel regain his memory (the brain damage caused amnesia) and discover his true identity as Yah, creator of the universe.

When he's ready, Zina shows Emmanuel her own parallel universe. In this peaceful world, organized religion has little influence, Rybys Rommey is still alive and married to Herb Asher, and Belial is only a goat kid living in a petting zoo.

In an act of kindness, Zina and Emmanuel liberate the goat-creature from his cage, momentarily forgetting that the animal is Belial. The goat-creature finds Herb Asher and attempts to retain control of the world by possessing him and convincing him that Yahweh's creation is an ugly thing that should be shown for what it really is. Eventually Herb is saved by Linda Fox, a young singer whom he loves and who is his own personal Savior; she and the goat-creature meet and she kills it, defeating Belial. He finally discovers that this meeting happens over again for everyone in the world, and whether they choose Belial or their Savior decides if they find salvation.

Characters:

Herb Asher: audio engineer

Rybys Rommey: mother of Emmanuel, sick with MS

Yah: Yahweh

Elias Tate: Incarnation of Elijah

Emmanuel (Manny): Yah incarnated in human form

Zina Pallas: Shekhinah

Linda Fox: singer, songwriter, Yetzer Hatov

Belial: Yetzer Hara

Fulton Statler Harms: Chief prelate of the Christian-Islamic Church (C.I.C), Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church

Nicholas Bulkowsky: Communist Party Chairman, Procurator maximus of the Scientific Legate

VALIS: agent of Yahweh, disinhibiting stimulus

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer - Set in the late 1960s and 1970s, the story describes the efforts of Episcopal Bishop Timothy Archer, who must cope with the theological and philosophical implications of the newly discovered Gnostic Zadokite scroll fragments. The character of Bishop Archer is loosely based on the controversial, iconoclastic Episcopal Bishop James Pike, who in 1969 died of exposure while exploring the Judean Desert near the Dead Sea in the West Bank.

As the novel opens, it is 1980. On the day that John Lennon is shot and killed, Angel Archer visits the houseboat of Edgar Barefoot, (a guru based on Alan Watts), and reflects on the lives of her deceased relatives. During the sixties, she was married to Jeff Archer, son of the Episcopal Bishop of California Timothy Archer. She introduced Kirsten Lundborg, a friend, to her father-in law, and the two began an affair. Kirsten has a son, Bill, from a previous relationship, who has schizophrenia, although he is knowledgeable as an automobile mechanic. Tim is already being investigated for his allegedly heretical views about the Holy Ghost.

Jeff commits suicide due to his romantic obsession with Kirsten. However, after poltergeist activity, he manifests to Tim and Kirsten at a seance, also attended by Angel. Angel is skeptical about the efficacy of astrology, and believes that the unfolding existential situation of Tim and Kirsten is akin to Friedrich Schiller's German Romanticism era masterpiece, the Wallenstein trilogy (insofar as their credulity reflects the loss of rational belief in contemporary consensual reality).

The three are told that Kirsten and Tim will die. As predicted, Kirsten loses her remission from cancer, and also commits suicide after a barbiturate overdose. Tim travels to Israel to investigate whether or not a psychotropic mushroom was associated with the resurrection, but his car stalls, he becomes disoriented, falls from a cliff, and dies in the desert.

On the houseboat, Angel is reunited with Bill, Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia. He claims to have Tim's reincarnated spirit within him, but is soon institutionalized. Angel agrees to care for Bill, in return for a rare record (Koto Music by Kimio Eto) that Edgar offers her.

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer is one of Dick's most overtly philosophical and intellectual works. While Dick's novels usually employ multiple narrators or an omniscient perspective, this story is told in the first person by a single narrator: Angel Archer, Bishop Archer's daughter-in-law.

Characters:

Angel Archer: Narrator, manager of a Berkeley record store, widow of Jeff Archer.

Timothy Archer: Bishop of California; father of the late Jeff Archer and father-in-law of Angel. Dies in Israel, searching for psychotropic mushroom connected with Zadokite sect. Based on James Albert Pike, Dick's personal friend, who was an American Episcopalian bishop.

Kirsten Lundborg: Timothy Archer's secretary and lover. Dies from barbiturate overdose after loss of remission from cancer.

Bill Lundborg: Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia, and who is obsessed with cars.

Edgar Barefoot: Houseboat guru, radio personality, lecturer. Based on Alan Watts.

Jeff Archer: Son of Timothy Archer, and deceased husband of Angel. A professional student who was romantically obsessed with Kirsten.

Thank you, if you read all of this. it took me six hours today to write this all

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livia-dovehallow · 4 years

Text

first words (lightwood-herondale family)

Cecily and Gabriel say “I love you” to each other and their children so often, it’s bound to cause some mimicking....

Read on AO3

i. Anna

The first time Anna Lightwood spoke a coherent word was late at night, when she very much should have been fast asleep.

“Anna, please, go to sleep,” her father pleaded, bouncing her in his arms in the nursery. Anna giggled, clapping her small hands together in excitement. Her big, blue eyes that matched her mother so perfectly gleamed up at him. Gabriel sighed, falling victim to Anna’s charm. “You’re just like your mother. You know exactly how to break me down.”

“Wonderful,” came Cecily’s voice behind him. She appeared at his side and pinched Anna’s cheeks, which made her crinkle her nose. “You are learning well, my love. Soon, we’ll be able to convince your father to do absolutely anything!”

“Don’t encourage her,” Gabriel lamented, but he was smiling. “You stress me out enough as it is.” At Cecily’s side eye, he added: “In a very loving, not life-threatening heart-attack-inducing kind of way.”

Cecily smiled. “Ah. I love you, too.”

“Wuv!”

Gabriel and Cecily paused, staring wide eyed at each other, then at Anna. Anna tilted her head, as if to ask her parents why they looked so shocked. “Anna,” Gabriel said slowly, hugging his daughter a bit closer to him. “What did you say?”

Anna grinned proudly. She pushed her head forward, toward her father, and balled her little hands into fists. “Wuv!”

Gabriel exhaled, a large, bright smile growing across his face. “Love?”

“Wuv.”

Cecily let out a shriek of excitement and pulled Anna out of Gabriel’s arms to hug her close. “Anna! Your first word!” She kissed Anna’s cheek and spun around, turning right into Gabriel’s chest, where he wrapped his arms around them both. “I love you, Anna,” Cecily said to her daughter. “I love you so, so much.”

“Wuv!” Anna nodded, confirming her word choice. It was no surprise that little Anna Lightwood’s first word was love; her parents said it so often it would have been more surprising if it weren’t her first word. They always said it to each other and to her, to her uncles Will and Gideon and Aunts Tessa and Sophie, and to her cousins Barbara and Eugenia. It was a word she heard so often, she must have thought it was very, very important.

Her father held her head in his hand and beamed. “I love you, too, Anna. Papa loves you very, very much.”

“Wuv!”

ii. Christopher

“Kit,” Anna scolded, shaking a small finger at her brother. “Don’t do that! Mam will be very mad!”

“Don’t scare your brother, Anna,” said their father, who watched them carefully over the edge of his newspaper. Anna and Christopher sat together on the shaggy run in the family room, playing peacefully with their wooden blocks in front of the fireplace. “He’s still learning.”

Anna pouted, but listened to her father and plopped down on the floor beside her brother. Christopher, who until that moment had not paid his elder sister any attention, glanced up. His brown curls were tossed wildly atop his head.

Christopher looked like his father, much to Gabriel’s silent delight. They shared the characteristic Lightwood brown hair, unlike his mother and sister who shared the Herondale hair. It also seemed to help Kit find his parents when he got lost—all he had to do was find the grown up who looked like him.

Though, sometimes, Kit did end up tugging on his uncle Gideon’s trousers instead of his father’s; but, then again, little Christopher Lightwood was only 10 months old.

“Christopher, my love, what are you building there?” asked his mother, who emerged from the adjacent room and sat herself beside Gabriel. She perched on the edge of the sofa and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, giving her children her full attention.

The young boy blinked at his mother and pointed to the wooden blocks he and Anna had been arranging. They currently formed a large tower, one which only Anna could reach the top, but for a toddler and infant, it was an impressive feat. “Guess what it is, Mam!” Anna said, holding her chin up proudly.

Cecily leaned further out and gasped. “Is—Is that the Institute?”

Gabriel lowered his paper and leaned out beside her, looking at the block structure his children had been working so diligently on. His eyes widened. “It definitely looks like the Institute.”

“It is the Institute, Papa!” Anna exclaimed. “Kit pushed the big ones. I did the little ones on top. They are too high for him.”

“It’s wonderful, my loves,” Cecily said, smiling brightly at them. “You did a fantastic job. Do you love it?”

Anna opened her mouth to answer, but it was Kit who the sound came from. “I wub oo.”

Gabriel lost his balance and slipped off the sofa onto the floor. “Pardon?” he choked, staring wide eyed at his son, who he was now at eye-level with. Kit looked at his father curiously.

Cecily gasped and brushed Kit’s cheek with her thumb. “Did you say something, Kit? Can you say it again for Mam?”

Kit only stared, his uniquely lavender eyes analyzing everything around him, including his mother’s face. Anna leaned in close. “You can say it, Kit. Say ‘I love you’ again!”

His little eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Then: “I wub oo.”

Cecily lowered herself down onto her knees, beside where Gabriel had fallen, and beamed at her son. “I love you, Christopher. Mam loves you.”

“Papa loves you, too,” Gabriel chimed in, ruffling Kit’s curls.

Anna frowned. “Do I love Kit?”

“Of course, love. He’s your brother.”

“Oh,” said Anna. She turned to Christopher. “I love you, too, Kit.”

iii. Alexander

“Ah, you little brat,” Anna laughed, dodging her youngest brother’s tiny, yet mighty, slaps. Alex reached up at her from his bassinet, curling his little hands into fists and uncurling them again. He was grinning cheekily back at her.

Her mother smiled at her from the other side. “It’s all you and your brother’s doing,” Cecily told her, wiping the last bits of Alex’s dinner from his face. He scowled in protest. “Teaching him to be a troublemaker is what you lot are doing.”

“And here I thought it was the Herondale genes,” Anna answered. A distant you’re right came from down the hall, where her father’s study was. Cecily huffed.

“Mam,” the remaining member of the Lightwood-Herondale family said, sauntering into the family room with a sheepish look on his face. Anna tried her hardest to stifle a laugh at her mother’s exasperated expression.

“Christopher Lightwood, what on earth have you done to your shirt?”

Even little Alexander Lightwood peered over the edge of his bassinet to look at his older brother, who stood in the entryway with an unknown substance of the color green splattered across his shirt. The cuffs, too, had been singed, leaving behind a remarkably even edge of orange-black soot. “In the pursuit of science, I believe I must have miscalculated my measurements.”

Cecily sighed. “Gabriel,” she called in no urgent tone—only the tone of a mother of three who had, at this point, seen it all. “Gabriel, dear, please come help Christopher clean up and find a new shirt.”

“Done it again, has he?” Gabriel emerged from his study and shook his head with a smile. He held his arm out and motioned his son over. “C’mere Kit, I believe I still have those spare shirts we ordered the last time we went to the shop stashed about here somewhere.”

Christopher began moving toward his father, then paused and turned back to Cecily. “I love you, Mam,” he said with a small grin, attempting to appease her. “I promise the table is still in perfect working order, aside from—”

“Wuv woo!” Alex giggled, patting the floor of the bassinet. “Wuv woo!”

Kit blinked. “Did he just say something?”

“By the Angel, what are the odds,” Cecily exclaimed with glee, lifting her youngest child into her arms and onto her lap. Alex stuck his fist in his mouth.

“The odds of what?” Anna asked, puzzled. “Of saying his first words? Don’t we all?”

Gabriel approached behind Cecily and rested his hands on her shoulders, looking at his youngest son with glee. “All of your first words were love,” he explained. He reached down and poked at Alex’s nose. The infant merely peered up at his father over his slobbery fist. “I didn’t think it was possible for all children to have the same first word.”

Anna scoffed. “Well, I oughta expect it. You two say the word so often I’m more surprised it isn’t the only word we know.”

Cecily and Gabriel ignored this comment from their daughter and cooed at Alex, who had begun to laugh once more at the renewed attention on him. “We love you, Alex. Mam and Papa love you!”

Christopher looked at Anna, eyes pleading to escape the room. Anna swiftly stood and fled the family room with him, leaving her parents to coo after their baby brother, who was definitely enjoying it.

#gabrily #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #anna lightwood #christopher lightwood #alexander lightwood #gabriel x cecily #the infernal devices #tid #the last hours #tlh #tsc #tsccreatersnet

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theredwallrecorder · 8 years

Text

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) pt 2

Huh. For the first time in forever I don’t actually know what to say here. I guess... stuff goes down? Martin and company find out that Hellgates isn’t all sand and brimstone. It’s a fox-eat-woodlander kind of place, where nothing is as it seems. I hear the god of that realm has it in for Martin. Really bad blood, you get me? I’m surprised Vulpuz hasn’t shattered the gates of Dark Forest just to get at him.

And let me tell you, the Great Vulpuz goes for the jugular.

Please enjoy Redwall Hell: The Anime pt 2, this time featuring Martin sass, a little magic, totes foreshadowing, and madness. Vulpuz has that in droves, see. He can’t help but share. They say sharing is caring, but there is such a thing as too much. All that sharing will attract her attention.

Here’s part 1 for those who have no idea what’s going on.

Also I oughta mention that I can’t take credit for all of Redwall Hell’s awesomeness. @raphcrow pretty much started this, and @thegoldensoundtwice is my partner in Redwall Hell crime. Bless you mateys for keepin’ the fires burning. <3

@fuzzhugs Martin vs. Hell, huh? Hell is a fox, mate, and that fox is REAL.

- - - - - -

Martin and his friends were speechless. The white fox remained seated upon Badrang’s old throne, watching them with an intense, almost unnerving curiosity. He flexed first one paw and then the other, each of his movements oddly erratic, as though he had been sitting waiting for them here for an age and a day, and since they had finally arrived, every last vestige of his pent-up energy could now be focused upon them. His gaze was sharp but distracted, constantly shifting from one of the company to another, and he seemed unable to sit still in his seat. Despite the constant fidgeting, he remained silent.

Confused by the fox’s baffling behavior, Martin struggled to find his voice. A feeling of mighty dread gripped his heart within his chest, and he suddenly became intimately aware of the fact that his best friends stood just behind him. Steeling himself, Martin locked eyes with the reclining vermin.

“I—”

A bemused giggle cut off the warrior mouse’s comment. The white fox shifted his weight to one side, his tail flicking dismissively. “Oh, do forgive me, mouse,” he quipped, unable to mask the dripping sarcasm in his tone. “Sometimes I find my merriment too difficult to contain! Pray, continue.”

His brow furrowed, Martin attempted to speak once more.

“Who—”

This time the fox guffawed aloud, only managing to halt his laughter by clamping both paws firmly around his mouth. It took a few moments for him to regain control of himself. Martin and his companions shifted uneasily.

“Goodness me, what trouble this gaiety has caused!” the fox declared to himself after he had relinquished his grip on his snout. His expressive voice danced across the ocean breeze, each syllable over-emphasized with curious whimsy. “I actually do care to hear what you have to say, Martin, so if you would grant me a second forgiveness, I promise you I will do all in my power to listen with grave reverence.”

Martin sensed the fox was mocking him, but he tried a third time all the same.

“Who are—”

The fox burst into uncontrollable laughter, echoes of gleeful insanity ringing out into the salty air. Lacking any sort of restraint, he gave full vent to his rude humor, bending forward in his seat and slapping his thigh repeatedly. Martin and his friends had no idea what to do. They waited in awkward silence until the fox’s merriment subsided. He dabbed at his eyes with a corner of his cloak, his chest heaving with exertion.

“Ah, bless me. This is more than I could ever had conjured, even if I had spent an age and a day building the perfect scheme.” The fox was all smiles as he gestured to Martin and his company. “Greetings and welcome! Come closer now, and make yourselves comfortable. I have so much I’ve been wanting to tell you!”

The six friends hesitated. Out of the corner of his mouth Gonff muttered, “Ah, don’t anybeast step backwards now, mates. The passage we just came out of is gone, and it’s a sheer drop to the channel below!” The abrupt news that their only escape route had vanished was startling, but the fox spoke again before any of them could react further.

“It is rude to whisper in company before a stranger, Prince of Mousethieves,” he chastised, eyes glittering with contained malice. “Of course the passage is gone. You cannot leave this place unless I will it.”

“Tell us who you are, fox,” Felldoh challenged, “before you attempt to amuse us with empty threats.”

The white fox rested his head in one paw, pinning the warrior squirrel in place with his intense gaze. “Felldoh the Wrestler. Oh, pardon, it’s just Felldoh isn’t it,” he admonished, lip curling upwards in a scornful sneer. “You see before you a vermin, but this one is far more than a mere beast.” The fox leaned forward upon his throne like a maniacal despot surveying his subjects. He spoke slowly, accentuating each word with deadly precision, his voice as cold as midwinter’s frost.

“I am the Claw that Drags the Corpses of your enemies into the bowels of the earth. I am the Eye in the Night, a fountain of obscuring mist, perpetuating and piercing the darkness. I am the gnashing of teeth, the splintering of bone, the crack of the whip, the shriek of the chain, the squeal of drawn steel. I am the Prophet of Abominations. Haha! I am the bosom containing the void of solitude. And yet, I am the emaciated shadow that lingers on the eve of war, rising to become the Insatiable Great Maw that follows behind and swallows all you hold dear.” He paused to lick his lips, as if to blissfully sample the infernal rust left behind by his last spoken syllable. He offered Rose a cheeky wink before continuing. “But perhaps my names are too much for you to comprehend. Very well. To borrow the tongues of the living, I am… the Great Vulpuz.”

In one regal movement he rose from his seat, throwing his arms out to either side, indicating the blue sky, the quarry, and the expanse of rocky coastline below them. “Behold! One of my many domains. Such fond memories you have of this place, warrior,” he mused, turning to look at Martin with profound pity, his head shaking in disgust. “Though it was not the first stage of your many failures, I must assert that it was the most glorious. Ha ha! A kingdom for a rose! What a pleasure to delight in the folly of a warrior’s youth. Tell me, how is it that you can even find the strength to look upon her?”

A low rumble issued from deep within Dinny’s chest. The normally peaceable mole flexed his digging claws aggressively as he and Gonff drew up behind Martin. A scowl wreathed the mousethief’s face, the sunlight reflecting off the knife he had just drawn playing across his brow. “That’s mighty low, even for a fox,” he muttered dangerously. “Do you always insult the creatures you’ve just met?”

Laterose moved to respond in kind, but Martin stopped her with the gentle touch of his paw. He flashed the three of them a grateful smile before turning to face Vulpuz squarely, his voice as steady and strong as sandstone.

“There was a time I would have been baited by your words, but now I simply find them annoying. Release us to go our own way.”

“’Release us to go our own way!’” Vulpuz repeated in a mocking tone. “Hmph, what a contemptuous bundle of useless words! My answer to them is ‘no’, since I’ve only experienced a measly shred of the entertainment I intend to glean from you.” The fox drew himself up, steepling his claws together in front of his face. “Allow me to state my objectives plainly. You will never leave this place. The very instant you entered my realm, you gave up the ability to go your own way. You are now part of my collection, an object that I will toy with as I see fit. Clear your mind of all you knew of Dark Forest, for Hellgates is your new dwelling place.”

“You can’t stop us from leaving,” Laterose declared, her clear voice overflowing with confidence. “Being in your realm does not give you power over us!”

“Oh you miserable little maiden, how deeply you’re mistaken.”

With a derisive flourish Vulpuz vanished. His voice continued to issue from seemingly everywhere, eerie echoes bouncing off the quarried fragments of stone as Martin and his comrades formed up in a loose defensive circle, each of them straining to catch sight of the fox.

“I can only guess that you weren’t listening during my eloquent explanation. Very well, I’ll go over it once more. Picture this: There was a band of foolish woodlanders who traipsed into Hellgates. The Great Vulpuz made himself known to them, and because they were utterly ignorant, he chose to teach them according to his principles. His lessons were brief and highly effective, as demonstrated hence.”

An enormous slab of stone close to Gonff shuddered suddenly to life, hurling itself with brutal accuracy upon the unsuspecting mousethief. Gonff hardly had time to utter a muffled shout of surprise, for in the blink of an eye both stone and thief had disappeared into thin air. In the same moment there was a low rumbling sound, and the sand beneath Dinny and Grumm started to churn and heave violently. With breathless speed, the ground began to devour the two moles, their bass voices crying out in terror.

“Ee gurt sands, oh, burr no!”

“Miz Roser, Marthen, help!”

Rose caught hold of Grumm’s ladle, her footpaws scrabbling to find a suitable foothold against which she could brace herself. Without warning she sat down hard, Grumm’s ladle still clutched in one paw. The two moles had been completely swallowed, buried beneath unyielding stone and sand. Rose glanced up at Martin, her mouth wide open in shock. Quickly Martin helped her back onto her footpaws, Felldoh warily circling the area behind them.

The warrior squirrel was furious at having been caught unprepared. Gritting his teeth, Felldoh dropped his sling upon the ground. He hefted his spear in both paws and shouted into the sky.

“Coward! Show yourself!”

In an instant Vulpuz was standing before him. Laughing maniacally, the white fox struck Felldoh in the face with a fierce backpawed slap, causing the squirrel to lose his balance. He toppled backwards over the edge of the cliff, followed by the echoes of a terrible scream that slowly faded into horrified silence. His chilling deeds accomplished, Vulpuz sniffed disdainfully, bending to retrieve Felldoh’s spear from where it lay on the path. Effortlessly he snapped it in two. He flung the broken pieces over the cliff edge before turning to face Martin and Rose.

“I don’t always take care of the rubbish, but I’m very methodical when I do, wouldn’t you agree?” he inquired, a nasty sneer contorting his beautiful face.

“What did you do with my friends?” Martin growled. He maneuvered himself in front of Rose and brandished his sword. Behind him, Rose fitted a rock to her sling and began swinging it in steady arcs, her eyes trained on Vulpuz.

The ruler of Hellgates smote his forehead with an open paw. “And we are still not listening! No matter, I’ll be able to fix that for you. I took your friends out. Not for a stroll through Mossflower Woods, mind you. Can’t you see?” The fox cleared his throat forcefully. “Entering my realm was a poor leadership decision, mouse. You brought your friends into a trap. All the signs of a trap were there. Hahaha, but what does Martin the Warrior do? He ignores them! He takes note of the possibility of danger and he charges full tilt into it, dragging all those he loves along with him.” Vulpuz stalked regally towards the two mice, the brisk wind whipping his cloak about like a torn sail caught in a storm. The timbre of his voice rose to a maddening scream as the skies above them began to darken.

“You can’t escape what you’ve been, warrior! Even now, the wraith who has frolicked through the mists of your slain foes’ nightmares lingers in your shadow!”

Martin had heard enough. He shifted his weight, readying himself to strike. The white fox was laughing again, the air around him popping and fizzing, blurring the edges of his form. His arms were outstretched, taunting the warrior mouse, inviting him to attack. Martin exhaled and raised his blade, his field of vision narrowing as the whirring of Rose’s sling intensified behind him. Time seemed to stretch itself thin just as Martin leaned into his charge.

Then, a voice like steel striking stone carved a rift through the ecstatic tension.

“Enough, Vulpuz.”

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tarisilmarwen · 7 years

Text

Cracks In The Mirror: Endure

(Welp, with the sudden spate of reblogs on Chapter One I just realized I’d forgotten to crosspost Chapter Two and Chapter Three, whoops. My bad.

There are depictions of torture in this chapter so the squeamish should use caution and discretion. It’s not explicit, just potentially upsetting.

Once again, also on FFnet here.)

—

Everything was a haze of pain.

Ezra didn't know how long they'd tortured him. His sense of time was distorted, his mind fogged from the shocks and the myriad drugs and serums they had flooded him with. He was barely conscious of what was happening around him. He would be writhing in pain, then given a brief rest, three times in a regular repeating cycle. Then the pain would stop and voices would ask him questions. He muttered, but he didn't really know what he was saying. Evidently it was never what his tormentors wanted to hear, for the pain would start again, worse and worse each time.

He couldn't tell if they were increasing the intensity of the shocks or if the drugs were just increasing his sensitivity. Every time his head started to clear, every time he felt a little more lucid, they injected him again and plunged him back into the drugged haze.

The only thing that cut through it was the agony.

He'd tried to reach out to the Force, wrap it around him for some measure of relief. But he couldn't focus; the Force slipped away from his grasping fingers. There was no respite for him, no shelter from the blinding, stabbing pain they assaulted him with.

About two cycles ago they'd added something new to the drug cocktail, something that burned his insides even through his rest periods. Ezra whimpered softly as he felt it like slow-moving lava through his veins.

A female voice was speaking. Fingers prodded at him, trying to get his attention.

He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't have the energy. His vision was just a blur anyways.

The fingers gently brushed his cheek.

Unconsciously, he tilted his head into the gesture.

"He... ra...?" he rasped. His throat was cracked and sore, his voice weak from screaming.

"That's right, dear," the voice cooed, soothingly. "I need your help."

Okay...?

"Where does Fulcrum transmit from? I need you to tell me."

Transmit?

"N... no..."

"His life is in danger. You need to tell me."

Ezra shook his head. "Y're not Hera..." he slurred. Hera wasn't here. Hera would already know, if anyone did.

"Of course I am," the voice reassured him. "Don't you want to help Fulcrum?"

"Not Hera..." Ezra repeated, his head still shaking. "Go 'way."

"Tell me what I want to know."

Ezra tuned the voice out, going still, slackening, trying to sink into oblivion to escape her questions and the constant burning through his limbs. With how drowsy he was from the sedatives already, it was easy to let his mind go blank, let his consciousness slowly fade into—

Something struck him hard across his face. Ezra yelped, startling back into awareness. His lolling eyes fixed on the blur that was Pryce's face, trying to focus.

She didn't look happy.

"You'll sleep when we're finished," she growled. She grabbed his face in her hand, her nails digging into his skin. "You can end all of this," she told him. "Tell me what I want to know, and it all stops."

Force, he was really beginning to hate her.

Ezra hardened his eyes, his fists clenching. "'ll die firs'," he said.

She stared him down a moment, scowling. Then she stepped back with a haughty sniff.

"Very well." She nodded at the technician. "Begin another round."

Ezra held back a moan of despair as the electrodes charged again.

He didn't know how much longer he could hold out.

***

"Something's wrong," Kanan said, fidgeting, tapping the console. "We should have heard something from him by now."

"Take it easy, Kanan," Rex told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chopper'll update us on the situation as soon as he's able."

The words didn't reassure him. Kanan had been agitated since Chopper had first reported in, and the echoes he could sense in the Force only added to his worry.

He'd had some reservations about the mission from the beginning. A light cruiser was no Imperial Academy, and going in as a prisoner was considerably more risky than going as someone who belonged there. Ezra hadn't liked it much either. But it had been a simple enough plan at first. Get in, extract Kallus, get out. Thrawn showing up was more than a little panic-inducing. This was the second time the man had turned up exactly when and where the Rebels were planning to move and Kanan was beginning to wonder if the tentative trust they'd placed in Kallus had been a mistake.

His ears pricked up at the click that said a transmission was incoming.

"Speak o' the old clanker..." Rex commented. Kanan sensed him shift forward, heard him open the channel. "What's happening, Chopper? Has Kallus got Ezra yet?"

Chopper sounded as anxious as Kanan felt as he relayed his message.

"The brig?" Rex repeated in surprise. "They found him out?"

Kanan felt no satisfaction from knowing he was right to worry.

There was a creak as Rex leaned back again. "Well, that's a problem," he said.

That's an understatement, Kanan thought.

"Now what?"

The Jedi exhaled heavily. "I'm not sure," he said. "Give me a minute."

He closed his eyes—not that it made a difference but old habits died hard—and tuned in to the Force. The echoes at once became clear, the burning ripples of distress from his padawan beaming to him strongly through their bond.

It must have shown on his face, for Rex asked in concern, "Kanan? What is it?"

He inhaled slowly, opening his eyes and coming out of the Force. "Ezra's in pain." Kanan turned toward the dashboard. "Chopper, we need those clearance codes. We're coming to get you."

"WUB WUB-WUB WUUB—"

"I know what Kallus said!" Kanan snapped. "Just get the codes so we can get Ezra out of there!"

"Kanan..." Rex called. He heard the stoic warning in the old Clone Trooper's voice, the quiet defeat. "They'll be expecting us."

Harsh words almost slipped from him, but Kanan bit his lip and clamped them down. He hated to admit it. Rex was right.

"I know," he blurted. "I just..."

Swiveling in the pilot's chair , Kanan stood, feeling his way towards the door. He couldn't just sit still. He needed to feel like he was doing something.

"See if you can contact Ryder," he instructed. "Maybe he can do something from the ground. I need to talk to Hera." He paused at the doorway, one hand on the frame. He sighed, turning back towards the cockpit. "Chopper, you and AP-5 do what you can. But if we don't hear from you in two hours we are going to come get you, and you'd better have those clearance codes when we do." He turned his head toward Rex. "That should give us enough time to come up with something, right?"

"Let's hope so," Rex just replied, flicking buttons on the dash to call up Ryder Azadi.

***

Chopper unplugged from the communications terminal with an aggravated sigh and relayed Kanan's instructions to AP-5.

"Do what we can. That's not very specific," the inventory droid said. "Have you any ideas?"

The astromech rolled back from the wall, chirping out a suggestion.

"Infiltrate the security system?" He mused on the idea a moment. "Yes, that could work. If we could get into the system we could gain access to the security cameras and at least be able to see where they are keeping Bridger and Agent Kallus."

Chopper grunted in enthusiasm, already starting to roll out.

"Hold on a moment, you're not going to be careless about this like you were when you first contacted the retrieval team are you?" AP-5 asked sharply, following behind him. He had already made the C1 unit change terminals twice, and scramble the codes they were using to contact the shuttle. Broadcasting Rebel transmissions from an Imperial starship once was foolish, more than that was ludicrously illogical.

Chopper replied with a surly string of grumbles.

"It was careless, plugging in to the first available port on an unknown vessel could have compromised the entire mission!" AP-5 argued hotly. "You're lucky I am around to guide you."

The astromech huffed. "WUB WUB. WUB WEB WUB."

"It's this way," AP-5 said, pointing. "We must be cautious." The droid glanced around the hallway as if searching for unwanted listeners. "We don't want anyone to know we're here."

For once, Chopper had no grouchy remark to reply back with, only giving an anxious hum to agree.

The droids fell silent, and so became invisible to the crew of the Chimera.

***

Hurt. It all hurt.

Pain. Fog. Burning. Always burning. Cold trickles through his veins. The drugs again. More drugs. Needle pricks. They stabbed him in his neck, his arms, his stomach.

Itching. Why was he itching?

It was hard to breathe. His lungs were struggling.

What were they doing to him?

The voices blended. He couldn't tell one from the other. He thought Pryce might've hit him again a few times but he wasn't sure. It was so hard to think.

He missed Hera. And Kanan and... everyone.

Harsh coughing racked his frame. His chest felt like it was squeezing him.

Sharp pain, prolonged, like hot metal through his limbs. That was the electrodes. The feeling vanished, leaving his limbs twitching.

Nerves on fire. Thin metal cutting him. Scalpels? Maybe.

Wouldn't be surprised if they were trying to bleed the answers out of him.

The voices were yelling again. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He just wanted to sleep.

So tired... Kanan...

Where was Kanan anyway?

"C'ming for me..." he heard himself mutter.

His heart was still jolting and it hurt. He just wanted to curl up but he was so numb and he couldn't move.

What was Pryce trying to ask him now? Force, he didn't even care. She was making his ears ring. He gathered as much moisture from his dry, parched mouth as he could. From the sharp copper taste it was probably actually mostly blood. Whatever. He spat it out.

An indignant squawk cracked his hearing. Sounded like he'd hit her in the face.

Good.

Hope she choked on it.

Oh but now there were pincers squeezing his face, crushing his jaw in an iron-hard grip, and he regretted everything.

The Force... I need...

His mind reached out, weakly. Don't grab for it too hard, Kanan had taught him. Let it come to you. Let it flow into you. Be at peace.

The edges of his consciousness turned warm.

***

Thrawn stared down through the window, frowning darkly. The technicians were putting away their tools, stacking the empty syringes on the tray. Ezra Bridger had had about as much as he could take for now. He was insensate, and no longer coherent enough to give any reply to their interrogation.

And he had defiantly given up... nothing.

The door hissed and Pryce stepped into the room, wiping off her gloves with a sour look.

"Stubborn little whelp," she grumbled. She scratched furiously at a smear on her cheek.

Stirring, the Grand Admiral turned from the window to face her. "The boy's resistance is... impressive," Thrawn admitted, begrudgingly. He paced towards the opposite wall, distracted, already considering their next course of action. "We will resume our session after the next rotation," he said. They had pushed Bridger to the edge of his endurance. Likely the boy would break after another intensive round. For now, though, continuing would be futile; there were no answers to be gleaned from an unconscious body. "In the meantime," he told Governor Pryce, changing the subject, "we should turn our attentions to the matter of Fulcrum."

"Our rebel spy." Pryce put away her handcloth and clasped her hands behind her. "Do you think Agent Kallus will talk?" she asked.

"ISB would have trained him to resist interrogation," Thrawn dismissed. "Though gratifying, such an attempt would yield few answers." It wasn't an unpleasant thought, having his men take a few rounds against the traitor.

"He seems to have some sentiment for Bridger," Pryce noted. "Could we employ the boy as leverage against him?"

Thrawn smirked faintly. "Amusing, but... no. Agent Kallus is too practical; he will not give up the wider Rebel base just for Bridger's sake."

He started to pace again.

"Now that we know they are connected, however, we can review our intelligence information with fresh eyes." Thrawn touched a hand to his chin in thought, then made a decision. "Speak with Agent Kallus's associates and subordinates," he instructed Pryce. "Let us see if we can get a map of his recent movements. And I want everything we have on him, all records, reports, and files." If there was a pattern, he would spot it easily.

She nodded curtly. "As you wish, Grand Admiral."

She departed swiftly, leaving him to his thoughts. Thrawn glanced through the observation window. Bridger was limp, head lolling on his shoulder. Aside from the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he was completely still.

So. Once again the boy's resilience surprised him. But Thrawn was nothing if not patient. And torturing Bridger was not nearly his only angle.

As he left the observation room he was already bringing to mind his keen recollection of Bridger's file, sifting through the information, analyzing everything and disregarding nothing.

The boy would come to regret his defiance.

—

Chapter notes! (Copy/pasted from FFnet, shh, I won’t tell if you won’t.)

1. Not as much Kallus this round, I know, but don't worry, he'll be back next chapter.

2. Worried Spacedad is worried. :)

3. Since the Imperials were able to pick up the first coded transmission Chopper sent (as conveyed by Yularen in the episode), it became necessary to explain how they're able to keep talking to Kanan and Rex without continuing to arouse suspicion. So my excuse is basically that Chopper was sloppy and half-assed his job the first time and AP-5 has been riding his butt about it and making him take extra precautions to mask their signal ever since.

Chapter Three will be uploaded shortly and I’m actually working on Chapter Four presently so. Expect to see that one soon as well. :)

#star wars #star wars rebels #spoilers #ezra bridger #grand admiral thrawn #agent kallus #prompt fics #pryce is a bitch #space dad and his precious pumpkin child #fanfiction

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a-skateboarding-witch · 8 years

Text

“Deep Color Noise” Review

I've got to be honest here. In my opinion being hypersensitive and a fan of ambient/electronic is a unique experience. More specifically, listening to lush or varied sounds as heard within these genres under the condition of chromesthesia (or more formally sound-to-color synesthesia) has the power to invoke an array of feelings within me. While I didn't always have a name to put to my experience, it was always a matter of the connections I could make with my inner thoughts, emotions, and sounds. This is unquestionably an experience that anyone can access because all that is required is an open mind and heart. Music has always had the power to allow us to feel innate happiness, sadness, or clarity down to the imaginative invincibility of oneself or the persistent angst found in the most pessimistic of hearts. In my case those connections are visual, physical and emotional. There are many different channels plugging in at once, connecting with the help of the sometimes unidentifiable wires strung from my senses. It is imperative that I start this review by saying that "Deep Color Noise" is a clear manifestation of what I'm trying to explain. From the self-explanatory title to the visually inspired track listing that includes instrumentals designated "Chromesthesia Storm" and "Pinks&PurplesMakingLove" it's safe to say that the Marcos Garcia vehicle, Anima Lunaris, can sonically attest to this.

The project begins with the semi-title track "Deep Colors". A noisy background ambiance and simple melody greets you immediately. I personally enjoy the rising and falling string-like synth pad more than the out of kilter melody that I presume to be tapped along by piano keys. With the ushering of punchy drums into the mix, the offbeat sample or melody becomes more apparent and hard to ignore. I can't say if it's purposely done to give that glitch hop effect but it can certainly be done more successfully by pacing wisely and only slightly altering the tempo in relation to the beat. Usually it's the other way around by arranging offbeat drums to a set melody but it's the same idea essentially. I love the deep kick and the smooth rhythm is hard not to vibe to especially when the world percussion hops into the driver's seat towards the end of the track.

"Wut U Need" is essentially a rework of a classic throwback courtesy of The Weeknd. I would like more of the atmosphere surrounding this track and less of the out of wack sample. The drums were simple but good. An enticing melody invites me into "Shining" and gives me Bonobo feels to be honest. I can't make out what instrument it is though but I'd imagine it is something close to a xylophone but still not quite. There's an Asian or ethnic influence to it for sure. The impending bongo action only further drives the comparison to the British producer who is known to use elements of African and Asian influence in his music. The similarities are all in my opinion though of course. There are some switch ups that I feel could've been kept at bay. I liked the bass hits but I would've enjoyed the track more had it been a consistent build up of sounds based around the main melody.

I'm an absolute sucker for atmosphere so you can imagine that "WWWAAAVVVESS" brought the tension for me. It's definitely one of my favorites to listen to and is very easy for me to keep revisiting. It's literally perfect for when I'm getting into to the mood/tone of my current stories I'm writing. In fact the only bad thing about it is the fact that it's the second shortest track on the project after "Color Spirallsssss" by just a mere six seconds. The intro is a pull of low vibrations that make me feel like I'm deep sea diving. The pad is thick and heavy, almost unforgiving. There's just enough reverb on the crash-like snare to keep you anticipating every moment of this suspenseful tempo and the kick is sly per usual. A faint howl comes in at a little before the halfway mark and transforms into an indifferent melody for the duration of the beat.

"Chromesthesia Storm" opens with a sample and bouncing kick before it quickly swarms into a fuzzy low synth I detect as a saw maybe. I love the subtle electro kick and cosmic stutters that give me glitch vibes. Oddly enough it is the calm before the storm for my chromesthesia as the low synth buzzes along unsteadily, creating orange waves and static white pulses. "Color Spirallsssss" is another track featuring a vocal sample from The Weeknd but over a wailing siren. I'm not a fan of the weird erratic "wub wub" sound throughout the instrumental but I do love drums that would go well on a dance inspired track in my opinion. "Angels" is led by a dreamy Clams Casino-esque sample that could use a more clean loop of itself. The drums are offbeat maybe because of this or it could be a stylistic choice but either way a more defined loop is practical as far as production goes. The drowning bass is very effective for the atmosphere but making it a little less prominent in the mix could go a long way. I really like the drums on the second half and the reversed sample is a nice touch.

"The Ride" is the last rework of a Weeknd song we get and it's the weakest beat of the set for me. The high pitched vocals of Abel drowning in an awkward side-chain effect over and over is incredibly migraine inducing. However, the noisy effect used at the end could probably be more effectively used on another track in the future. "Leeeeaaaan Houuuuse" is characterized by a vibrating synth drone and deep lingering atmospheric sounds just under the surface. An instantly recognizable Weeknd sample comes filtering in with so much flanger it seems like he's drowning.While I do like the drums on the second half I have to admit that overall I would enjoy the track more without any drums at all. Honestly without the drums and the vocal sample it's an instrumental I'd more than likely use for a short film.

The final track begins with a pleasant piano arpeggio and a nice atmosphere that really leaves me feeling as if "Pinks&PurplesMakingLove" is truly the track with the most untapped potential on the project. It has very chill drums that set in effortlessly save for a tom drum that is a bit unsettling. Perhaps placing it lower in the mix could remedy the situation. Then there's the matter of needing some EQ. I listen with studio headphones and good quality earphones so the hearing the low noise was inevitable but it is a quick fix. My main issue is that the piano loop seems without direction which in turn makes the track feel the same at times. I would've liked to see some variation in the composition and maybe less of the drums. In reality I think ending this project with just the ambiance surrounding a piano piece could be much more rewarding. Sometimes less is more and there are definitely moments on this project that display that notion.

Anima Lunaris's "Deep Color Noise" is a minimalist daydream aspiring to be more. There are so many interesting textures in their infancy just waiting to be expanded upon and explored. At times I find myself confronted with an atmosphere that gives me such a feeling. A feeling that instinctively has me reaching out in order to grasp it. I want to know more about these sounds. I want to see the story behind each tone or note. I am ready to take that journey with Anima Lunaris. Sometimes you have to go back to go forward. I would like to see an even more minimal project (even if it's just a little three track surprise) with focus on the things I have mentioned throughout the review. I would like to see a more concrete direction and application of technique. The subtlety and sense of awareness is there which is a great foundation to stand on. A little more fine tuning with sampling and I'm completely sold. The mixing is great and I'm enticed by the use of deep emotive percussion so it's pretty obvious that I'm fully fascinated with the idea of a follow up project. Maybe even a "Deep Color Noise II" to be honest. Or even better, wanna come score my future films?

By Dij Ri'chard

Check out Anima Lunaris's music here: https://soundcloud.com/animalunaris/sets/deep-color-noise

Hit him up on his Tumblr: https://animalunaris.tumblr.com/

Hit me up if you want me to review you: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/abrighteyedbandit

Email: [email protected]

#music review #instrumental hip hop #electronic #ambient #alternative #leftfield #2017 #anima lunaris #deep color noise #thebigdream #dij ri'chard #http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com #indie review

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