It was all meteors and
Wizards and magic words and
Secret formulae and
Struck by lightning
And
Last son of another
Planet
Back then that was
All the rage…
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The run did size upon the day,
the myre did gimble to the lair,
the lair was dank in Treaclewood,
all was knee deep in despair…
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There is no easy answer to the riddle of why we create, but it is the question which lies at the heart of understanding who and what we are as human beings…
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Exterior shot. Funeral procession walking down road. The camera focuses on feet walking in slow motion. The shoes are all black, the ground is dusty and clouds of dirt rise as they walk. The shot is overlaid briefly with the sight and sound of static. Colour seems drained from the scene, it is mostly made up of shades of black, white, and grey with occasional tinges of blue…
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He skidded to a halt before the waterfront to see hundreds of planes buzzing above like some angry hive of insects, the droning noise of their engines a fierce hum in the air that accompanied the brutal explosions erupting from the bombs they dropped upon the vessels beneath them. Battleships and aircraft carriers rolled in the red waves, their decks breaking apart with fire, their hulls cracking like eggshells as the crews aboard raced back and forth, looking for a way to defend themselves, looking for a way to escape, looking in vain. There were bodies in the water, a raging sea already red with blood…
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And now I shall remember you, and another song too…
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It was a question she’d repeated a number of times during their rambling peregrination, from the wide halls of the National Gallery where they’d looked at the coloured canvases of Sidney Nolan, his bushranger icon recognisable as an empty black letterbox, to the whispered aisles of the State Library, where the bush forge beaten and bullet cratered armour floated suspended in a case of glass…
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Nearby the dog could hear the waves crashing against the shore, splashing their familiar taunts into his floppy ears. “You can’t catch us,” they gurgled teasingly, “you’re too slow now, while we are ageless still. We saw Tiktaalik crawl out from our depths. We saw the giant lizards of prehistory swim within us and fly over us and fight each other upon our shores. We are the endless ocean and you are just a little dog. We are too vast for you, too fast for you – you will never catch our dancing waves again!” His tail stopped wagging and he paused in his walk, blind eyes turning towards the waters as his nose sniffed haughtily at the arrogant salt spray…
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“Your secret society, this Illiterati, they believe that God is, quite literally, the Word. They believe God is language and that our world, indeed our whole universe, was created from it. We are story, creatures composed of language, formed of words, and words are the key to unlocking creation, of accessing the divine.”
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He was made in an ammunitions factory outside of Kansas in the year 8076. It was the year the Kenyans tried to annex Zimbabwe again and the United Confederacy was called upon to manufacture appropriate arms for the impending conflict. The major weapon was propaganda. The major conflict, a form of sport…
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