67 lines
3.9 KiB
Plaintext
67 lines
3.9 KiB
Plaintext
CHILDREN OF WOOD AND METAL
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by Shadow. (ed note: this is a very long piece. It will show in
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the next 5-20 issues as a saga. Consider it a good
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alternative to the Starwars mega-ilogy)
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He had never had any children, and he probably never would,
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this ragged man named Ted Kaczmaryk who rode a junkyard bicycle.
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Nevertheless, he was intimately acquainted with the immensity of life and
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death on this planet. He was a very creative man.
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His mind was in a ferment today as he peddled up the hill toward his
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cabin. He'd spent all day at the town library, catching up on the world's
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news. One article in particular haunted him. He could not get it out of
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his mind as he labored up Stemple Pass Road.
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A yellow school bus was stopped by the cluster of mailboxes, disgorging
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a horde of children. One of them waved to Ted, who recognized the boy as
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Dan, the librarian's son. Ted lifted a finger in return, but did not
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speak (ed note: that is "way" montana/colorado/arizona) Two other boys
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turned to stare at him. There goes that weirdo, said one to the other,
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and they both laughed.
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TO BE CONTINUED IN ATI 75 NEXT WEEK.
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PART II OF "Children Of Wood And Metal" by Shadow.
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(Con't from last issue)
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"it can be a bit disjointed unless the reader knew it was a fictional
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story about the "Unabomber" (suspect). So here's the story about the
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alleged Unabomber, a hermit who lived in Montana..."
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The man named Ted did not notice their scorn. He might have noticed it
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three days ago when his sole preoccupation was getting his spring crop
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planted. But not now. Now the words of the article he had read crowded
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out all other awareness.
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"...a researcher at CalTech has discovered a genetic marker that can
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identify the potential of criminal or antisocial behavior..."
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Ever since he saw them, Ted felt the slow rage building. Like some old
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steam-driven engine, grinding its gears, building power and heat to some
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inexorable climax. How to stop it, how to power it down?
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Ted gripped the bicycle handles. "I swore I wouldn't do it again."
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he bowed his head helpless before the power overtaking him. Where did it
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start, he wondered... when was the connection made between his own wretched
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life and the larger imprisonment against which he was compelled to fight?
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"They laid me on the altar of science..." an old grievance welled up;
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my brain and soul a sacrifice to the New Religion. Genius boy, smarter than
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the rest. He doesn't know how to carry on a normal conversation, but that's
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alright, someday he'll be building Rockets for the US of A.
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Ted swerved to avoid a broken beer bottle in the road.
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(Con't next issue...)
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CHILDREN OF WOOD AND METAL by Shadow. (Part III of a multiple part fiction piece.
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You could kill me and never get Shadow's real name!!!)
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He reached the side trail that lead to his cabin; walked his bike
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the last few hundred feet and at last sat down in the yard to rest. He poured
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a dipper full of spring water over his head and most of it dripped off his long,
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tangled mat of hair. The next cool dipperful slid down his throat, though some
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of the water spilled and caught in his untrimmed beard and his dusty, threadbare
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black shirt. That was a relief. Relax. Forget about it, he told himself,
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already knowing that the advice was futile.
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He'd only read the article once and already the words were emblazoned
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in his head. The curse of being a genius with a photographic memory.
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"...a professor of biology at Caltech says he has discovered a genetic marker
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that can identify the potential of criminal or antisoc behavior. If such traits
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can be corrected in early childhood, many social instabilities could be eliminated."
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Ted put his hands over his ears. "Shut up." But it was no use.
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<Tune in next week when Ted eats a carrot and ponders Vivaldi, Beethoven and
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Modern Social Psychology.>
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(ed note: can't find the rest...still looking) |