The Dasti Experiment...6

This is the beginning of the end of the universe.
Mirrors shatter on occasion. The shards are still reflective.
Sunlight still streams through a broken window.
Water is still wet, even when it's raining.
We never saw the sky when the sun began to set - or maybe it was sky setting in the face of a rising sun.
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"I guess I'm feeling nostalgic. Or maybe wistful is a better word...you can't be nostalgic if it never happened, right?"

"Walk softly, and carry a really, really big gun."

"All you have to do is love me most. Endlessly."

"Not only have we already crossed that line, but when we did, we shot, stabbed, and burned it."
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Feeling nostalgic.

"Do you think it's pure speculation?"

"Is what pure speculation?"

Eloro tilted her head. Teacups sat on the table beside her. Empty teacups. They seemed dull.

Light seeped through the windows. No rain touched the panes. The metal bards did not scold.

"Dasti?"

Dasti turned to face Eloro. She watched him, her hands cupped in her lap. Her eyes followed him as he paced. Dasti looked away. Eloro seemed old to him.

"Is what pure speculation?" Eloro asked again.

Dasti shook his head.

"Forget about it."

Eloro shrugged.

The teacups sat empty.

If it never happened...
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Soft.

Airthe breathed in. Softly, he reminded himself. Softly.

The church felt deserted. It wasn't.

Boots and their steps echoed. Airthe could hear them.

Fear wanted to paralyze him.

Softly, he had to remind himself. Soft.

Airthe rolled himself away from the wreckage. He pulled with his hands. He wiggled. He drew himself forward until his arms gave in. Then he tried to push with his legs.

Softly, softly, his mind warned.

Softly.

Airthe tried to push with his legs, what was left of his legs.

The church wasn't soft.

Gunshots.

Carry a big gun.
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Love me?

Saxiel felt Totaz' heart beating.

"Taz?"

Totaz looked at Saxiel, but did not say anything. He looked hurt.

Saxiel cradled Totaz closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you," Saxiel said. "All right?"

Totaz looked away for a moment. "You love me the most?" he asked. Through the city smog the words sounded small.

"The most," Saxiel agreed.

"Promise?" Totaz looked at Saxiel. "Promise?"

Saxiel nodded. "Promise," he said.

Totaz smiled and hugged Saxiel around the neck tightly.

Endlessly.
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Crossed the line.

"You sick – "

"Sick what?" Tsisas purred.

Bruesia had become a puddle on the floor.

Tsisas still held the knife. The knife was red-edged steel.

Ascaeliat couldn't recall if the knife had been red edged before.

Too many words crossed Ascaeliat's mind.

"Sick what?" Tsisas asked, stepping forward, waving the knife in the air. "Sick what? Sick what?"

Ascaeliat pointed at Bruesia.

"She's dead, isn't she?" Tsisas said. His voice sounded solemn.

Ascaeliat's nails dug into his palms.

Tsisas' eyes glittered and he stepped closer. "She was alive before, you know."

Ascaeliat threw a punch at Tsisas' face as hard as he could.

Shot, stabbed. Don't forget burned. Ah yes. Burned.

The Dasti Experiment...5

"Roll the dice, roll the dice, roll the dice." As Tsisas chanted, the knife he held to Bruesia's throat jumped with each repetition. A fine line of red decorated her skin from where Tsisas' knife had slipped.

"Roll the dice, roll the dice, roll the dice."

Ascaeliat's hands had gone sore. The dice assaulted his palms when he shook them. The dice assaulted his fingers when he picked them up. The dice held cruelty.

Tsisas chanted still, laughing as he drew Bruesia into a backward dance, singing his own music.

Bruesia's eyes stayed closed, as they had been. Her face betrayed nothing, not even if she still lived.

"Roll the dice!" Tsisas demanded.

Ascaeliat cast. The dice rolled four. The dice rolled nine. The dice rolled seven, twelve, six. The dice took on a life of their own. The black one with white marks liked to roll fives and sixes. The white die with black marks favored twos and threes.

Six. Twelve. Seven. Seven.

"Maybe rolling three will help," Tsisas cackled.

He tossed another white die on the table. The die had six faces. Each face was blank. Tsisas laughed. "Roll a one, roll a thirteen, and I'll let her go," he said.

Ascaeliat picked up the dice.

The bit his palms.

He wondered how long the abuse could go on. Bruesia looked dead. Her eyes remained closed. He could not tell if she was breathing. The blood on her neck had crusted. A thin line ran down from one edge. That had crusted too.

Tsisas pulled Bruesia against him.

Ascaeliat's hands tightened. The dice bit him. He rolled. Seven.

Tsisas just laughed.

Bruesia's head lolled to one side.

Ascaeliat snatched the dice up once more.

"Need another?"

Tsisas threw a black, faceless die on the table. "Roll a one, roll a thirteen, roll a nineteen!"

Ascaeliat threw the dice down. They hit the table and bounced. Bruesia did not move. Tsisas did not move, but his eyes glittered. Ascaeliat snatched the dice up before the numbers fell.

"Spoil sport!" Tsisas complained. "What if that had been a one?" Wicked light gleamed. "You could have saved her, you know. Or maybe not, but maybe so."

IF there existed anything to hate, Ascaeliat decided it was Tsisas' laughter. For Tsisas' laughter ran down the corridors of thought and chased away the light. Tsisas' laughter bubbled in darkness so deep it blinded. Tsisas' laughter hurt.

Ascaeliat grabbed the dice and rolled.

The knife blade in Tsisas' hand slipped.

Ascaeliat slammed his hand down on all four spinning dice.

They did not bite this time.

He raised his hand.

Three dice lay embedded in his palm.

Ascaeliat smiled.

Tsisas smiled back.

One die lay on the table.

It showed four.

"Better luck next time."

Tsisas drew the knife.

Bruesias' eyes opened.

Ascaeliat stared.

So she had been alive.

The Dasti Experiment...4

"Sax?"

"Yeah, Taz?"

"You love me, right?"

"'Course."

"And you'll never, never leave me?"

"Of course not."

"Good." Totaz laced his fingers together behind Saxiel's neck. "I like having you around."

Saxiel didn't bother trying to hide his smile. "I wouldn't leave you," he said. Then softer, into Totaz's shoulder, Saxiel added, "I couldn't."

Totaz clung to Saxiel for a while, then he grew restless. "Can we go somewhere fun?" he asked. "Fun, fun?"

"Where is fun?" Saxiel asked.

"Anywhere!" Totaz announced proudly.

Saxiel put two fingers to Totaz's lips, a silent gesture asking for quiet. Obedient, Totaz closed his lips. Saxiel paused a little too long. Totaz's errant tongue slipped between closed lips to wet the tip of Saxiel's finger.

"Taz!" Saxiel scolded. He wasn't mad. Totaz knew it. He knew it. They both knew. But for the sake of the old woman and her walker crossing the street, the vendor leaning against his hotdog stand, the children and parents on a passing tour bus, the homeless curled up in plastic bags, the customers shopping in windows, or those just window shopping –the scolding tone was for them.

The chaste, brotherly kiss to Totaz's forehead was for them.

"Sax?"

"Yeah, Taz?"

"You love me, right?"

Saxiel had the words to answer. For the sake of the baby in its mother's arms, the father holding his daughter, the school teacher conducting students, he only nodded.

"Sax?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, y'know."

Saxiel swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "I know, Taz. I know."

Totaz smiled and his fingers laced in Saxiel's hair once more, twined in the dark locks.

Saxiel began to walk down the street, still holding Totaz against him. Limp legs swung against him with every step they took. Saxiel picked up the pace until the swinging legs echoed the rhythms of his breathing. In and out. In and out and in. And out.

"Sax?"

The traffic made it hard to hear Totaz' voice.

"Yeah?"

Totaz's lips moved with a request.

A truck passed.

The exhaust swallowed the question.

Saxiel pulled Totaz closer.

"I love you," he said.

Totaz said nothing back.

The Dasti Experiment...3

"Aim better."

"I wasn't trying to kill you."

Nirax leaned forward. The Church ceiling rolled. The bench looked odd, missing its back half. Nirax watched Airthe.

"Why not?"

Nirax laughed.

Airthe looked down. His temple throbbed. A bullet had grazed his skull. His pants were torn at the knees. His legs were bleeding, lying a few paces away.

Nirax smiled at him. "Missing something?"

Airthe could not find words. His tongue searched but his mind bubbled with confusion. He had no pain. No –

Needles wandered into Airthe's sense of feeling. He winced, and stared.

Nirax had leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, one hand cupping his chin. A smile lit his face. "You're beginning to feel it," he said.

Beginning?

Airthe glanced to his legs. His mind refused to accept the distance. Across the way, partway across the room.

Light filtered through the broken roof, through the shattered windows.

"When are they going to be here?" Airthe asked.

Nirax stood and flipped the handgun around. He caught it by the barrel. He tossed it again and missed. The gun clattered on the floor. A mosaic tile chipped.

"As soon as they're done with the old woman," Nirax said. He paused. "You'll be here to greet them."

Airthe looked across the room. A single patch of wall was clear of blood.

"If you survive that long, of course," Nirax added. He kicked the gun in Airthe's direction.

The gun slid nearer, slicked with red. Airthe reached for it; it sat just outside his range.

NIrax laughed and turned his back.

"Good luck defending yourself. Better luck convincing them you weren't the one to kill everyone here. You look rather guilty, you know."

The door opened. The door closed. Airthe stared in the silence. Nirax was gone.

The Dasti Experiment...2

"I hate having the windows closed." Eloro held a cup of tea against her chest, staring at the windows, now shut. "It's like I'm being smothered." She sighed and sipped from the tea. It sloshed against her lips. She set the cup down in her lap.

Rain clung to the window pane.

Dasti watched Eloro. She stared out, through the drops clinging to the glass. She seemed to be looking beyond the mere existence of space. Eloro closed her eyes.

Dasti looked away. She looked vulnerable with her eyes shut. A gossamer shawl lay over her shoulders. Her skin appeared bleached against the cotton. She looked old. Eloro looked old. Dasti could not look at her. Youth characterized the Eloro he knew.

"Dasti." Eloro's voice called Dasti's attention.

"Yes?"

"It's almost time."

Everything happened at once.

Thunder crashed though no storm owned the skies. The door opened. Eloro stood. The teacup fell. Tea soaked Eloro's skirt. The window shuddered. Boots assaulted the stairs. Lightning flashed. The door opened.

Dasti shook his head and faced the window.

"Hello."

Heavy voices hailed.

Eloro's surprised gasp cut off.

Dasti did not turn, did not speak. He listened. He had only to listen. Eventually Eloro's soft breathing returned. Eventually so did his own. The boots faded away. The air lightened. The thunder rumbled, but did not crash. Apologies fell on the windows, as drops of rain.

From the shut window, the sounds of gunfire echoed.

They were shooting people down at the church. Again.

"Dasti." Eloro's voice was pitched higher than usual. "Can you close the window?"

Dasti put his hand out and touched the glass. The window was already closed. There was no use telling Eloro that. He turned. She was sitting in her chair, cradling an empty teacup to her chest, staring out into space.

"They're shooting people," she murmured.

Dasti nodded.

Eloro sighed. "Again."

The Dasti Experiment...1

This is the beginning of the end of the world.

The mirror was broken. Not cracked, it just wasn't working properly.
You always remember the day when you watch a man die.

The world isn't perfect. Not even close. Everyone knows, but not everyone knows. There's a difference between knowing and knowing after all.
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"Can you close the window? They're shooting people down at the church again."

"Of course there's an explanation for why I shot all those people. Haven't you ever heard of target practice?"

"When is a door not a door?"

"The doors are down by Fifth and Eighth - catch a train, catch a tram, catch a cab...cabbie can."
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Close the window.

The window shut.

"Thank you, Dasti. Come...sit down now, won't you?"

Across the room, Eloro sat in a leather armchair. She watched Dasti. Dasti turned and bowed.

"Sit?" he questioned.

Eloro smiled. "Sit," she agreed and motioned at the floor.

Dasti sat. His legs folded under him, and he rested his palms flat on the ground. His eyes locked with his kneecaps. Dasti waited.

Eloro watched him.

Through the closed window they heard gunshots.

Down at the church.

Then silence.

Again.
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Shot them.

"All gone?"

"All gone."

"Not even one -"

Nirax laughed. "Only corpses."

Airthe sighed. All gone. Only corpses. "Even -"

"Only corpses." Nirax was firm.

Church lights flickered. The chandelier hung broken. The altar bore a flood of bodies. The chalice overflowed with blood. Some few drops stained the white cloth.

"Are we staying?"

Nirax turned the gun. The muzzle felt warm. Airthe did not shiver. Nirax laughed.

"You are."

Target practice.
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When a door.

"Sax?"

"Yeah?"

"What's the meaning of life?"

Silence stretched.

"Where do you come up with these questions?"

"I don't know. Whats the meaning of life? What's the point of death? Why -"

"Are you ever quiet?"

"Sax!"

"What?"

"Sax, tell me?"

"I don't know, Taz. I just don't know."

The car on the corner drove away.

"Sax?"

"Hmn?"

"Carry me?"

Saxiel bent to gather Totaz in his arms.

"Like that?"

Totaz twisted his fingers in Saxiel's hair. "Yeah," he said. "Like that."

When ajar.
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Looking for?

The dice rolled seven. The dice rolled twelve. The dice rolled four. The dice rolled nine. The dice never rolled one... He needed a one so she could live.

"As long as you keep rolling, she stays alive. As many rolls as it takes to get a one."

Sweat rimmed Ascaeliat's palms. He rolled the dice again. The dice rolled three.

Tsisas snickered.

Ascaeliat snatched the dice off the table and rolled again. Seven.

Tsisas' cackling grew. The hand holding the knife trembled against Bruesia's throat.

"Keep rolling!"

Ascaeliat's hands snatched up the dice. The blade at Bruesia's throat steading. Ascaeliat cast the dice. Four. Tsisas shook with laughter.

Can...can...can...