WebKittyn Warbles
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
All Hail the Master
"It's the dark of the sun. It's the hour in which worms sing madrigals, tea leaves tell their tales in langauges we once used to converse with the trees, and all the winds of the world have returned to the great throat that gave them life. Messages come to us from the core of quiet.
A friend now gone tries desperately to pass a message from the beyond but the strength of the ghost is slight; all he can do is move dust-motes with great difficulty, arranging them with excruciating slowness to form words. The message comes together on the glossy cover of a book casually dropped on a table more than a year ago.
Laboriously laid, mote by mote, the message tells the friend that friendship must involve risk, that it is merely a word if it is never tested, that anyone can claim friend if there is no chance of cost. It is phrased simply. On the other side, the shade of the friend now departed waits and hopes. He fears the inevitable: his living friend despises disorder and dirt; what if he chances on the misplaced book while wearing his white gloves?"
-Harlan Ellison, "Eidolons"
A friend now gone tries desperately to pass a message from the beyond but the strength of the ghost is slight; all he can do is move dust-motes with great difficulty, arranging them with excruciating slowness to form words. The message comes together on the glossy cover of a book casually dropped on a table more than a year ago.
Laboriously laid, mote by mote, the message tells the friend that friendship must involve risk, that it is merely a word if it is never tested, that anyone can claim friend if there is no chance of cost. It is phrased simply. On the other side, the shade of the friend now departed waits and hopes. He fears the inevitable: his living friend despises disorder and dirt; what if he chances on the misplaced book while wearing his white gloves?"
-Harlan Ellison, "Eidolons"
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