From 5492c0ca6637abb84b1bd7cd1817ebf2ab74da84 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: j3zibl Date: Thu, 17 Jun 2021 23:24:19 -0300 Subject: [PATCH] uncontemplatable --- B1-Caligula/c1-naked.md | 54 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++- 1 file changed, 53 insertions(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/B1-Caligula/c1-naked.md b/B1-Caligula/c1-naked.md index 9493c9d..3c6f5a7 100644 --- a/B1-Caligula/c1-naked.md +++ b/B1-Caligula/c1-naked.md @@ -242,4 +242,56 @@ to lurch upwards. I dove forward in a panic at being left behind. He didn't even have the courtesy to sneer at me but closed the cage door with a tired sigh as I tried to regain my composure. -[[...57]][[Consider omission of some expo and smells but include in a branch called "smells"]] +Later I learned that the prison is contained in the depths of a mine. This +thought terrified and deeply disturbed me. It would be so easy to close up the +only shaft, disable the elevator, and abandon, forget the prisoners forever with +no hope of escape, to starve to death, alone in absolute darkness. And then +think of the expense required to maintain the prison as it was with light, food, +and staff. What justified such an elaborate enterprise? What kind of prisoners +was this place intended for? And why was I among them only to be so casually +released? What about my mysterious jailer who questioned me so casually? Why was +nothing in our conversation relevant to the reasons I had been imprisoned in the +first place. No mention of any accusation against me, nor was I treated as an +enemy, a dissident, or political liability? Unless such was touched upon during +the forgotten part of our conversation, it was as though the only thing I did to +secure my freedom was to utter my name.[[57]] Much later I would reflect upon +these questions again with a growing resignation. + +The irons cage containing me and my new jailer had been grinding and shrieking +its way upwards for a full five minutes before I became aware of a faint light +filtering down from high overhead. It was at least another several minutes +before that faint light grew into a blinding brilliance so intense I had to +close my eyes tight and cover my face with my hands. As such I did not glimpse +the moment of my birth into this strange world but instead entered it like a +baby with eyes tightly shut and mutely weeping. My first impressions were all +the more pronounced upon my other senses. And of them, most dramatic at first +were the smells. + +To an amnesiac, if that is even what I was, I think that smells are like +pyrotechnical explosions of memory, meaning and forgotten feelings. Each smell, +as it reached my during the last few moments in the lift, was like a trumpet +blast of startling information. Each scent on its own contained a world of +references and connotation and in combination the olfactory melange told me +stories of a life lived. By me or someone else or no one I could not say but I +was transported. The scent of fine, wind-blown powdery sand conjured a broad +bright and blazing red desert, empty and forbidding at the break of day. The +smell of mingled spices, sweat, and perfume evoked long musical nights, hungry +lips, and soft fingers fumbling beneath silk, frantic grasping limbs and the +musk of desire. The smell of blood and freshly butchered flesh brought to mind a +crowded meat market. But that same smell, combined with a heady incense +converted the market into violent ceremonial sacrifices before stained and +hideous altars. And then as the scent of perfume wove itself back into the mix +my mind revisited [[59]] sensual ecstatic dancers caught up in the throes of +orgiastic death and fertility rites. All together the many scents now combined +with a thronging noise of many voices, cries, and animal brays to transport my +mind to a seething populace. + +But for all the thick tangible detail in each vision, one element was +conspicuously absent in each one: me. Not one of these memories if that is what +they were, contained any indication that the had been experienced by me. Noting +proved that I had actually ever lived. Whether this is a symptom of amnesia or a +consequence of some other awful and uncontemplatable truth I could not tell. +Thankfully, all these thoughts, sensations or memories ceased and fled my mind +after only a few moments when I found myself able to open my eyes. I then began +to experience, finally, the world in first person. +