Poetry-Thing Thursday: Kingdom of the Animal Song

Pass out from too much cruisin’.
White waves that I love usin’.
Been around but not abusin’.
Forget it, I don’t need excusin’,
I’ll just be on my way.

Pity the fool who’s not foolin’.
Write it up in the daily news ‘n,
see him come all unglued in,
the lair of the rich and proven.
He’ll just waste away each day.

No one is right, no one is wrong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
I have heard it all along,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.

She’s just a little bit stressed.
She’s just a little undressed.
In my back yard she’s feelin’ blissed,
while her body’s caressed,
beneath my lips.

It’s a little bit sound.
It’s a merry-go round.
Going pound for pound,
down to the ground.
I play it for the tips

There is no fight, there is no gong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
Bounce around like Neil Armstrong
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.

Close your eyes and meet me there.
I despise more than is fair.
But close your eyes and meet me there.
Tell me lies as if you care.

Ready set dead,
from a shot to the head,
a curious way to be led,
from the comfort of your warm bed,
to a mystery’s need.

I’ve had enough of you.
You’ve had enough to do,
everything I said ’til I was blue.
You are but one of few,
chosen for this deed.

I’ll just be on my way
just to waste away every day.
Underneath my lips
you play it for tips.
Don’t settle for this.
Don’t settle for less.

Cause there is no sight, won’t you come along
to the kingdom of the animal-song.
Tamp it down and hit the bong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
We get it on all-day long,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
I feel inside your thong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.

In the Kingdom of the Animal-Song,
you always belong.

Bonus Poem: Steel and Blood and Bone

Through lightning, rain, and thunder,
howls a wind blowing cold.
Footsteps by the window echo,
smoke-filled hallowed air.

Come all ye together hither.
Listen and behold.
For the mountains have long listened,
to what the trees are have now foretold.

On the wind a battle rises.
Steel and blood and bone.
Sky darkened, fields ashen,
life faded and burned ‘fore old.

As the night it creeps upon us,
a hallowed horn is blown.
Up the ramparts stalk the massive-kin,
allied against our solemn throne.

And if perchance a failing wind,
should utter unto all,
Then a distant, tolling bell,
shall sing then of the fall.

And if perchance a sailing win,
should blow us from the halls.
We’ll sing then of the better times
while here we stand ever tall

Steel and blood and bone at dawn,
‘neath blackened despairing suns.
How the wizened will be vanquished,
know only the blessed ones.

Short Story: Sample One-Nine-Nine

One of the rats stood on its hind legs. It sniffed at air flowing into its plexiglass cage. The rest lounged about in a heap, doing their best to keep warm in the chilly lab. These weren’t ordinary rats, or even extraordinary rats. They were utterly average. Genetically neutral. Their genes had been selectively bred to ensure as average a life-span and health as possible. They were kept free of mutations, but their genome diverse enough to keep from diminution. Lives depended on the strict adherence and upholding of these principles.

That was the requirement for laboratory rats in the modern age. Complete and total perfection in the realm of being average. They were simultaneously boring, dull as dishwater, and some of the most important and intriguing creatures ever born or bred. Their species and lineage had achieved perfected average with such regularity, that in a roundabout way, they were extraordinary.

Each rat was hand-fed at birth, their mother sequestered elsewhere to ensure both the purity of her health and the survival of all of her young. Each rat was as valuable as the next or last, and each one bred for a lone purpose: to save lives.

While there were, on average, roughly a few hundred rats in the lab’s various cages, all came from the same, few mothers. Those females were treated as near to royalty as their circumstances and handlers could allow for. They were fed well. Expertly cared for. Immaculately healthy. Even pampered in ways.

None of that had helped to deter the misconception that a million animals were being horribly mistreated in labs world-wide, of course. People honestly believed dogs, cats, monkeys– even horses, were being kept in tiny cages to be experimented on like the lower class of a dystopian future. The economics of such things were clearly against them. Holding onto a few hundred, larger animals required housing them, feeding them, and caring for them. All of that was cost-prohibitive when modern labs cost a million dollars to turn on the lights each morning.

Logic, too, was against them. An already-sick animal could not become infected with something needing a cure tested on it. Though various animals were used for differing reasons– pigs, for example, whose cardiovascular systems largely mirrored humans’– it was rare to find anything outside the common lab rat. In effect, the humble rat had more than made up for its supposed role in the plague. It had become humanity’s savior. Their unsung heroes. Certainly, it led a more distinguished life than the average human it served. If it weren’t for the common lab rat, and its benign genetics, few modern humans would ever receive vaccines or antibiotics.

No one knew this better than Gene Henley, head of the viral contagion lab at Vira-Lin Genetics. The place was on the leading edge of genetic engineering and viral vaccination research. Their billion dollar labs were just the tip of an iceberg involving a mission statement about “saving Humanity,” and a bottom line fat enough to try if it cared to. Several millions of dollars in salaried researchers staffed their various complexes worldwide. Each was the top of their field, or as near to the top as possible. Gene Henley was merely one of them.

Henley wasn’t so naive as to believe he’d ever save Humanity. At most, he figured he’d save enough of it to fatten V-L-G’s bottom-line without risking its dissolution. In truth, as much as he was head of his viral lab, the accountants dictated his research more often than not. He didn’t particularly like it, but his salary, bonuses, and benefits were better than living off intern or assistant scraps and choosing between meals or rent.

Corporate research was the wave of the future, for better or worse. The very least Henley could do was cash in on it. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d even make a break through. Maybe it would garner him recognition, renown before reaching an age where it was impossible.

Only time would tell– that was, if the next few minutes of his morning weren’t about to go horribly, horribly, wrong.

The little rat looked up at him had all the same trademarks of its species; red eyes. Pink hands. Ultra-white fur. The longing to be part of something beyond its small enclosure– okay, Gene imagined that one. Otherwise, it was an ideal candidate for testing contagion 18-199, commonly known as weaponized rabies. In simplest terms, Henley needed to infect the rat with it, then test a possible vaccine. Rabies was one thing they’d only recently been able to augment effectively. Weaponized rabies then, allowed for dispersal of the virus on large targets via aerosolized, missile-dispersal systems. Chaos would ensue within the “target zone” rendering it unmanageable by even the most powerful forms of governance.

So, maybe Gene had been a little optimistic on the “saving” part of humanity, but it wasn’t like the stuff was likely to get used. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t. In order for Vira-Lin to do anything with it, they needed both the virus and the vaccine. Otherwise entities– corporate, governmental, or otherwise– would string the board of directors up if they survived the apocalyptic nightmare it might pose. Besides, if V-L-G couldn’t vaccinate their own people and hold others hostage with the vaccine, there was no point in making the stuff.

Henley reached into the cage and fished out the lone rat with his thick, chemical gloves. He made his way to “the Box,” a thick, plexiglass, air-tight case for animal containment with gloved armholes for working with the contagion to be injected.

He set the rat in its housing to one side of the Box, then fished out a batch of 199. The few compiled possible vaccinations came with it, pulled from a LN2 freezer nearby. A quick rifling through a drawer for a set of syringes, and he slid the tools into the airlock opposite the rat. He straddled his stool, slid his arms into the sealed gloves fitted before it, and began. With an extension of his arm, he released the rat into the Box, then slid the samples and syringes from the airlock into its inner chamber.

Perhaps if he’d known what was to come next, he’d have better prepared himself. Perhaps even, he wouldn’t have gone into work that day. Alas, if there were fates, they’d surely already sown his future upon a golden thread. If only he’d known, he might have done something to avoid the next few minutes, or at least to make them go smoother.

The apprehensive rat sat at the edge of its enclosure, as if sensing its perverse destiny. Gene sighed. Normally the rats were curious, inquisitive. They seemed to need to know what was happening all over the Box. This rat was the opposite. It knew exactly what was happening. It wanted none of it. It was all the more evident after Gene readied a syringe and grabbed for the rat.

It squeaked, struggled, sank its teeth into the thick gloves. Gene shook his head, apologized, and moved the rat toward its injection. Its jaw released, and its body began to slip and struggle against the slick rubber gloves shielding Gene’s hands and arms. He readied to jab the needle in. The rat slipped. His hands went with it. The syringe sank through layers of rubber into his skin. Before he could stop it, the auto-injector flooded him with 199.

Alarms began screaming. Codes went off on a PA. “Code yellow, containment breach,” they said with a synthesized voice. Before he knew it, the door behind him burst open. A team of men in riot gear rushed in. Gene’s head swam. Rabid fury coursed through him. A tranquilizer gun rose. His arms tore free of the Box, gloves still attached. Two, gaping holes. Now, one with a rat scampering through it. He whipped ’round, growling like a rabid animal. A rabid human. The alarms screamed, echoed in his head. Reality went black. He felt himself lunge. It was the last thought he had.

The incident was recorded, the lab decontaminated, and Gene put in isolation until a cure might be found. Or rather, so he could be used as a test vector. Unfortunately, without him working the lab, things weren’t looking promising.

Scouring the lab for decontamination, revealed only a lone rat was missing. According to security footage of Gene’s botched experiment, this was the same rat that had caused his accidental injection. After reviewing the footage, the lab team deduced the rat would not have been contaminated. It’s lack of contact with the injector, or sample 199, was only the surface reason. In truth, the researchers under Gene had concluded one simple fact; the rat had wanted to escape. Given what it had done to do so, finding and euthanizing it seemed an unfair reward. Such determination, cleverness, and lust for life deserved better. At last report, it remains at-large.

Energy and Matter: Part 7

7.

These Truths We Hold to Be Self-Evident

Elise stared at the closed door to Hailey’s room, more lost than spacey. She’d managed a few hits from a joint by blowing the smoke through a tube of fabric-softener sheets. It was the usual way of hiding smoke, and she always kept an ample supply of softener sheets in her pack. Though she doubted anyone would care– she’d seen ashtrays here and there with snuffed butts– avoiding confrontation was at the top of her priorities. At least for the moment.

So, she focused elsewhere; Hailey’d only been gone a few minutes, but it felt longer. She was anxious and paranoid before the high. Now she sensed the lack of reasoning for it. The bunker was safer than anywhere she knew of, outside perhaps Geosynchronus-orbit above the Bermuda Triangle. Unfortunately, that didn’t change how she felt.

Hailey had a place with the Seers. Elise didn’t. In school, Elise and Hailey were their own clique. They weren’t smart enough to be nerds. Not athletic enough for the jocks. They weren’t musicians or quite inebriated enough to be true burn-outs. Hailey had drifted, using her curiosity and aloofness as a form of extroversion. Elise on the other hand, only ever had Hailey, and groups she felt out of place in. To say nothing of how she’d feel about them now. She was utterly alone.

Her eyes fell to her pack with a longing sigh. So much had changed so fast. Too much. She rose for her pack and slipped outside for the room next door– her room. The door opened on an identical room, and to another heaving sigh. She set her pack at the foot of the bed, began sifting through it. Everything inside was school related. Only a few, minor things like a wallet represented the life she’d left behind. At least the open door behind her partially combated the loneliness.

In a flash, a hand laid on her shoulder. Her heart leapt ten stories. She whirled ’round, chest heaving, to see Yaz, recoiling.

“Jesus Christ!” She swallowed hard. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Yaz apologized. “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid.”

Elise took a few, quick breaths, then shoved her pack onto the floor. She sat at the foot of the bed still trying to shake off the last of her shock. Yaz gave a look, as if asking if she were welcome. Elise shrugged, motioned to shut the door. Yaz acquiesced, pulled the desk chair over, and sat nearby.

She watched Elise mindlessly sift her belongings. “She’ll be gone a while. You need anything?” Elise shook her head. “Well, don’t hesitate to ask. Everyone knows how you feel. And empathizes. You don’t want to be here, we know, but we’ll do our best to make it bearable. We all know what it’s like to be displaced. At the very least, I’m here, if you need me.”

Elise was silent. Her eyes fell to the bed beneath her pack. “I can’t help feeling like the odd one out. Everyone else here has something to do. Everyone has a place.”

“It’s the same for everyone, at first. Me too.”

“How’d you deal?”

She chewed her bottom lip with an uncharacteristic hesitation. It was out of place, especially to Elise. Something of the young girl beneath all the gore-covered armor shone through. Since they’d met, Yaz had been sure-footed. Confident. In charge. Elise saw now how deep that facade was required to go to keep her from losing it altogether.

“I made my own place. Eventually.”

“How?”

“Learning to fight,” she said simply. “Not just to defend myself, but to fight. As a warrior. Then, I learned to think, like a General. Even when I was good, I knew I could be better. So I learned to be. I studied battle tactics. Stratagem. Everything down to schematics for known security systems. I read history books, practiced, simulated, and examined famous war-battles in PC games. When the time came for a major move– the others began looking to me for advice. Once they took me seriously, they saw my aptitude and put me in charge of security. Since then, I’ve worked to earn that trust by keeping everyone safe and bringing in Seers.”

“It must’ve been hard,” Elise said, wondering how she might react in Yaz’s place.

“It wasn’t easy. I can say that. But difficult is a matter of perception. Around here, there are more difficult things then deciding who’s walking where at what time of day.”

Elise stared off, hopeless. “Guess Hailey’ll know those too, soon.”

Yaz eyed her as she broke her stare. Their eyes met, and Yaz did her best to impart her courage. “You need something stronger than survival. You need confidence. You’re not the silent bench-warmer type. Not in matters you’re adept at. Here, the only thing you know is you’re a liability.” Elise agreed. “What you need’s something to ensure you aren’t. I can provide that, if you choose.”

Elise’s brow furrowed, “You mean training me?”

“As I have been, yes. No-one here is better qualified. Plus, we need all the security we can get.”

Elise visibly thought about it. Yasmine allowed it, watching her mind work in her downcast eyes. There was a certain sense to the idea. If the others looked to Yaz for guidance and security, there was no reason she shouldn’t. As skilled as she was, learning from her was as good as learning from any master infinitely her senior. Above all else though, she agreed with Yasmine’s assessment; she was a liability and felt like it.

When it came to being out of her element, confidence was her last trait. Elsewhere, an argument might be made for, but until mathematics, drugs, or music were relevant, she’d remain a burden. The only way she saw to ease her mind seemed to be training, as Hailey was.

The crucial difference was Elise’s complete lack of ingrained talent. She met Yaz’s eyes again, as if to ask about it. The silent answer was already poised on her brow and stilled lips; what she lacked could be made up for in practice. If Yaz was the expert she appeared to be, training Elise would be as natural as training herself– ingrained talents or no. In any event, it would give her focus, allow her to keep at-bay the fears and concerns cropping up.

She nodded with a blink and met Yaz’s eyes, “Alright. Teach me to fight.”

Yaz rose to full-height, her commanding presence taking over. “Then there’s no reason to waste time. We’ll begin now.”

Elise followed her from the room toward the Seers’ training room. They entered another, identical room beside it. The concrete walls made it impossible to hear anything between the two, but somehow, Elise sensed Hailey’s presence in the other training room. Yaz focused her attention on weight-training equipment. Gym-mats lined the floors of all but a small, outer perimeter where training dummies lined one side, lockers another, and chairs a third. The room was like something from an old martial arts film, complete with punching-bags and various training implements.

They stopped at a weight bench. Yaz directed Elise to sit on its edge. “We’ll gauge your abilities to better facilitate training. I’ll show you proper form and technique along the way, but take it easy. If you need a break, say so. Now, lie back and show me what you can do.”

Next door, Hailey sat cross-legged on a mat in the room’s center. A similar evaluation was progressing despite the varied context. Hailey’s eyes were closed. The room outlined in the tell-tale white of the active-Link. Valerie sat a short distance away; an ethereal figure of golden light whose essence undulated and swirled, obscuring its features. Her voice rushed in with a series of harmonies above and below it. The whispers were much like the thoughts of the students’ had been, save the words were intended only for her.

“You have great power, Hailey,” Valerie relayed inside her mind. “In time you may harness that power. But you must first recognize the care and mindfulness required to wield it. To ensure we do not violate another’s essence, we have established and agreed to three tenets to be upheld.

“Tenets?” Hailey asked aloud, uncertain of how to speak via the Link.

Our “Code of Honor,” if you please. The Three Tenets are these: Firstly, you must never violate another’s mind nor privacy. Either by reading them, remote viewing them, communicating with them without their continued or prior permission, or by using the Link to harm them via physiological manipulation.”

“What’s physiological manipulation? And why can’t I do it?”

Valerie inflected an indomitable gravity to the air. Her words turned discordant, grating Hailey’s mind and commanding they be taken seriously. “In this context, it means to use one’s power to harm another’s mind. Specifically, via shutting down autonomic functions such as the heart-beat or breathing. Though the first tenet may be flexible, it should only be when all other avenues are exhausted and death otherwise imminent.

“So I can’t use it to defend myself?” She asked, wondering what the point of training was, then.

“You misunderstand. Once you have learned to control your power, you will know of many more ways of handling aggressors. You will also find then, that it is not difficult to overcome most situations without such drastic action.”

“Okay. So. Don’t kill anyone with heart-attacks or force-chokes,” she half-joked. Valerie’s ethereal head tilted with disapproval. Hailey winced.

Valerie pushed forward, “As well, it is unfair for such power to be used to willfully violate another’s privacy.” Hailey wondered at the depravity necessary to, but Valerie continued. “The Second Tenet is to never reveal your abilities to those not circumstantially bound to, or with prior awareness of, Seers as a whole. We must never speak of our existence without good reason. Even here. Knowledge of Seers should be guarded, for the sake of others, as well as ourselves.

Hailey knew first-hand what she meant– and how bad it felt to drag someone into the fight unintentionally. She couldn’t imagine doing it voluntarily. Her heart sank. She exhaled a sigh, mind on Elise in the next room. Her energy was barely visible through the dense light-wall, still beside Yaz’s somewhere nearby.

Valerie sensed the bend her thoughts had taken. “And thus you see the peril faced by those whom know.” Hailey nodded. “The final tenet can be seen as an extension of the preceding two; never abuse your abilities as a Seer for personal or material gain. It is amoral to cheat others via the Link. We carry great power, Hailey. That power requires vigilance. Our darker urges are vastly more dangerous because of it, but so too is our capacity for goodness. These rules are held to not because we are superior to others, but because they humble us, rely on us, to otherwise protect them from ourselves. In time, you too will better understand why these feelings drive and guide us.”

“I’ll do my best to uphold them,” Hailey promised, thoughts lingering on Elise.

“Then we shall begin with mindfulness.

For the next few hours, Hailey and Valerie sat before one another amid the active-Link’s white-light. It reminded her of the old movies where a teacher imparts their wisdom to a student through guided meditation. Much of it was meditation, Valerie assured her. Through it mindfulness could be found: She would learn to control her thoughts and feelings. Through that, her actions and reactions. It would be slow-going at first. Eventually, she’d hold enough sway that mindfulness would become second nature, autonomous.

This, Valerie explained, was crucial to harnessing the Link. Without mindfulness, simple matters such as the Link’s continuous activation, were unattainable. Lack of it was also the sole reason Hailey remained mute through it. Maintaining the Link, and using it to speak, required a level of concentration yet beyond her. Until activating and maintaining the Link was as automatic as breathing, anything beyond remained impossible.

Thus, their time was spent mostly in theory and instruction. Hailey said little more than she had to, the afternoon an otherwise endless call and response of instruction and practice; Valerie, the former; Hailey, the latter. When she was finally released for the night, she made her way to the bathrooms down the hall. The bunkers’ layout had allowed for only one, excessively large bathroom to be retrofitted into two, smaller ones. Thick, steel walls divided them. Their interiors were further sectioned by toilet and shower stalls, and a row sinks.

She entered to find a shower already running, Elise’s clothing piled inside a sink nearby. Hailey called over the running water, “Elise?”

“Yeah?”

“How are you?” She asked, stripping down and feeling as if back in gym-class’, dread included.

“Alright… I guess.”

Hailey stepped into a shower, fiddled with the knobs, and immersed herself in the warm wetness. Her legs turned to rubber, almost buckled from exhaustion. Her stomach instantly growled. She kept her mind off it, “Were you and Yaz training?”

“Yeah. Starting to, anyhow,” she replied, sounding more confident than before.

Some of the weight rose from Hailey’s chest. Hailey soaped herself with a bar from a holder in the wall. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“What d’you mean?”

“You were against being here earlier. What made you change your mind?”

Elise was quiet. She let the water drum against her, head down and eyes closed in search of an answer. It was true she didn’t want to feel like dead-weight, but that didn’t feel enough of an explanation for herself. All the same, she settled on it for Hailey.

Hailey was dismissive, “You’re not dead-weight, Elise. I’d be lost without you here.”

Elise went quiet again, longer this time. Her shower shut off and she stepped out to dry herself. Hailey rinsed herself a last time, twisted the shower off, and stepped out nude and dripping. She wrapped herself in a towel while Elise dressed, slowly.

“You’re not going to say anything. Are you?”

Elise rolled a shirt down her torso. “There’s nothing to say, Hailey. Even if you don’t feel it. Even if I can’t explain it. I do feel alone. Maybe that’ll change with time, but I just wanna’ go home. I know I can’t yet, and I understand why. But it doesn’t make it easier– especially with no purpose.”

Hailey eyed her skeptically, “What makes you think it’s any different for me?”

Elise breathed deep to speak, hesitated, then exhaled. “It just is. Just like how you know the vision wasn’t a dream. I know I don’t belong here.”

Neither of us do,” Hailey countered, unconvinced.

Elise finished dressing. “You’re my friend, but you do have a place here, whether or not you accept it. I don’t hold it against you, I’m just telling you how it is.” Hailey looked about to argue. “And trying to say otherwise is discounting my feelings.”

Hailey’s face sank. Elise grabbed her old clothing and towel, and left. The door shut with an echo it resounded through the empty room with metallic reverb. Hailey’s heart was stung by it. For better or worse, Elise was right. But if Hailey’s instincts were half as good as Valerie insisted, it was for worse.

Already, she could feel a chasm separating them. It no doubt widened with each event and word that put them further in and out of their respective places.

Hailey’s head fell, her eyes mournful. Her shoulders slumped. She started forward, knowing the path ahead would be grievous, rough.

Missed Part 6? Read it here!