Archive for ‘time’

04/22/2013

Acrocarpous

by Pierce Nahigyan

“The fruit of the future. Was that not your promised result?”

Dr. Fildes nodded to the board. It was a long table, and there were a lot of them to be seated. Horatio thumbed through the summary report of Fildes’ team. He remembered the interns scrambling to find adjectives that made stasis sound exciting. That was the single positive to be gleaned from the last year of experiments. They hadn’t killed the plant.

Horatio let the binder close with a dispassionate thump. “May I remind you, Dr. Fildes, that you were brought onto this project as a replacement. And not our first choice. I’m sure you tried your best to replicate Dr. Ino’s techniques, but that seems to be where you failed. We wanted new ideas, not more of the same.”

Dr. Fildes nodded. “Normally I would agree with you, Mr. Marcos. But Ino was onto something. By following his lead I was hoping that we would have an acrocarpous result in a year’s time. I promised you the fruit of the future because I wanted this job. In part, perhaps to redeem him. Ino was a hero to myself and many of my team.”

Elana, the company’s vice-president, scoffed. “Didn’t Ino advocate treating the plant like a human being? We pulled him off the project when he wouldn’t stop talking to it.”

“No,” said Fildes patiently, “no, that is incorrect. He believed it should be treated like a plant. But he left notes. To the effect that there was evidence of new growth when the plant was embraced like a…like a friend.”

Horatio shrugged. “I don’t care what works so long as it gets results. And you, Dr. Fildes, like your predecessor, have failed to bring us back from the stone age. We’re terminating the project.”

A grumbling assent covered the board, the sound rolling over Fildes like a stone. He sat, flattened, and mustered his courage. “I think that is the coward’s answer,” said Fildes. “We’ve kept the plant alive this long, the very last shred of a bygone era. If we continue, until all recourse is exhausted, then we might say that we tried. But if we stop now, and let this legacy die here, we deny ourselves and the consumer the real fruit of science. It will be a triumph.”

Horatio sighed. “Doctor, it is a pretty dream. But one fruit cannot change the course of history. We will honor your past achievements and transfer you to our coffeeberry project. You may take your team with you.”

“What about the plant?” asked Fildes.

“It isn’t really much of a plant, is it? The project is terminated. If you’d like, bury it as you would a friend.”

02/18/2013

Achieve

by Pierce Nahigyan

Dear Thursday,

What do you hope to achieve? Friday and I have been together forever. Do you really think this is all it will take to drive a wedge between us? I guarantee you that no one will accept you lounging about on their calendars, prolonging the inevitable. What Friday and I share is sacred. Insinuating yourself where you don’t belong is just the height of hubris, and I don’t see how any self-respecting – any decent – person will let you get away with it. They’ll tear you off the week just like they did to Blottoday. Savor your fleeting victory, you old spite house.

Sincerely,

Wednesday

01/18/2013

Acedia

by Pierce Nahigyan

The curtain covers were fine white silk. The curtains could be drawn back and the covers closed over the window to let in the sunlight. White light, warm light, glimpsed in the thin silk sheet as a pale column. It was a good place to meditate. So Marc opened the window, and pulled the curtain covers, and sat in the light, posture erect, hands clasped over his knees.

The busy sounds of Shibuya entered the hotel room. The hotel room was crisp and neat, sparsely furnished, lots of right angles, the way he liked. The Shibuya sounds met the right angles and the freshly vacuumed carpet and swirled like a gathering stormfront. And he, in its eye, drew into himself.

Long had he served the Takahashi-kai, on the surface an awkward gaijin not worth a second glance, and inside, their tool to wield in the dark places. He meditated now on the business he would carry out in two hours’ time, the sheathe and the knife. His mind became the sheathe for the will that would animate his muscles. This solid flesh in the moment was given over to a higher power, an unthinking one, a place he came to in his meditations.

Ennui is an existential complaint, he thought, sometimes a French one. It is a type of boredom arising from wasted talent or no excitement at all. Ennui is a suspicion that can be deferred by entertainment. Ennui is the mask of acedia. All men held in their hearts, like a thorn in the skin of the arterial wall, a fear that no material act matters, no imprint will outlast this lifetime. Acedia is the unbeliever’s capitulation. The Takahashi-kai had baptized him in fire, so that no sloth ever entered his bones, no day was without its lightning, no hour ever challenged his devotion to that greater salvation. He chose gokudo, the ultimate path. He was his talent, and never wasted, spiritually pure. A deadly living thing.

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