Hobble placed the head on top of his new wife.
âWhy did I not think of this before? My own daughter â beautiful
and
with the necessary intelligence to keep her brain intact.â He kicked the bucket with Mollyâs head in aside, and it tipped over and spilt out across the floor. The head came to rest upright, the features looking pained and frustrated. âYou are no longer required, Peter Smith,â Hobble sighed in relief as he stayed fixed in wonderment at his completed invention.
* * *
Peter had no idea how little or how long had passed in time down here â he simply knew that his own life was about to come to a close. Not by Hobble, but by the curse of The Spaceâs gift. It could be yet another day or two, or it could seconds. Heâd lost track, but he didnât care. He was ready to leave this time and this place and hopefully never come back to humanity. But, he knew that simply wouldnât be the case. Heâd be reborn again in a future that brought yet more pain and hardship. If only to forget what had gone before in past lives would be a gift â to never remember The Great Collective and The Space would at least aid in some form of quiet normality.
Up ahead, Hobble busied himself putting the finishing touches to his new wife â she now had a head, and was no longer hung up. She lay flat out on a wooden bed which Peter had witnessed Hobble construct; now and again, as her âhusbandâ mopped her brow or checked for a pulse, a bit of skin would flap open or a finger would fall off. The manufacturer of this thing was quick to repair the fault, and so it went on. Luckily it was cold in here, but decay had certainly been occurring â Peter could smell it. Flies occasionally buzzed around when Hobble left the door open for any length of time (which wasnât often), but apart from that fresh air didnât seem to want to come in here. Nothing would want to come in here.
âUse The Space,â Hobble suddenly cried, waving Peterâs notebook in his face, âbring her to life with your magic.â Peter simply didnât respond.
As Hobble lay down in bed next to his creation, the big upright box appeared and obscured Peterâs view of them. With It came the thin, plain woman. Her blonde hair hung over her face, hiding any features which Peter may have recognised. He thought back to the first time heâd seen her â heâd called out, asking who she was. He knew even less about her this time, yet she was perfection in his mind. She was patiently waiting for him in the future, ready to give him the life he so desperately wanted. Then, the image of Stephen appeared by her side and took her hand, smiling at Peter as he felt the heavy pulse of death rush through him. He slumped in his chains, down in Hobbleâs dungeon, dead.
* * *
âWe are The Great Collective, we are the controllers of humanityâs destiny,â Darren addressed the gathering in their meeting hall deep beneath Myrtle Forest. Amongst the group stood Stephen, Jim and Anthony. âIf we work together we can utterly dominate the entire world.â A roar of jubilation and agreement reverberated around the room, shaking its very stability â clumps of the earthen walls plummeted down around them as the cheering continued. There was no conscience, no Peter Smith, to stop them now.
PART TWO
SEPARATED BEFORE BIRTH
The fact is that once you get watered down, you forget yourself. And, if you keep on repeating your life in ascending existences, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember all that has gone before. You are quite quickly wrapped up in the here and now, living and being about the current set of years. For The Great Collective, that came about when they got watered down and forgot themselves. They could not stay fixed as a united unit, instead being torn apart by the horrors they both witnessed and were a part of. It was simply better to push
âWhy did I not think of this before? My own daughter â beautiful
and
with the necessary intelligence to keep her brain intact.â He kicked the bucket with Mollyâs head in aside, and it tipped over and spilt out across the floor. The head came to rest upright, the features looking pained and frustrated. âYou are no longer required, Peter Smith,â Hobble sighed in relief as he stayed fixed in wonderment at his completed invention.
* * *
Peter had no idea how little or how long had passed in time down here â he simply knew that his own life was about to come to a close. Not by Hobble, but by the curse of The Spaceâs gift. It could be yet another day or two, or it could seconds. Heâd lost track, but he didnât care. He was ready to leave this time and this place and hopefully never come back to humanity. But, he knew that simply wouldnât be the case. Heâd be reborn again in a future that brought yet more pain and hardship. If only to forget what had gone before in past lives would be a gift â to never remember The Great Collective and The Space would at least aid in some form of quiet normality.
Up ahead, Hobble busied himself putting the finishing touches to his new wife â she now had a head, and was no longer hung up. She lay flat out on a wooden bed which Peter had witnessed Hobble construct; now and again, as her âhusbandâ mopped her brow or checked for a pulse, a bit of skin would flap open or a finger would fall off. The manufacturer of this thing was quick to repair the fault, and so it went on. Luckily it was cold in here, but decay had certainly been occurring â Peter could smell it. Flies occasionally buzzed around when Hobble left the door open for any length of time (which wasnât often), but apart from that fresh air didnât seem to want to come in here. Nothing would want to come in here.
âUse The Space,â Hobble suddenly cried, waving Peterâs notebook in his face, âbring her to life with your magic.â Peter simply didnât respond.
As Hobble lay down in bed next to his creation, the big upright box appeared and obscured Peterâs view of them. With It came the thin, plain woman. Her blonde hair hung over her face, hiding any features which Peter may have recognised. He thought back to the first time heâd seen her â heâd called out, asking who she was. He knew even less about her this time, yet she was perfection in his mind. She was patiently waiting for him in the future, ready to give him the life he so desperately wanted. Then, the image of Stephen appeared by her side and took her hand, smiling at Peter as he felt the heavy pulse of death rush through him. He slumped in his chains, down in Hobbleâs dungeon, dead.
* * *
âWe are The Great Collective, we are the controllers of humanityâs destiny,â Darren addressed the gathering in their meeting hall deep beneath Myrtle Forest. Amongst the group stood Stephen, Jim and Anthony. âIf we work together we can utterly dominate the entire world.â A roar of jubilation and agreement reverberated around the room, shaking its very stability â clumps of the earthen walls plummeted down around them as the cheering continued. There was no conscience, no Peter Smith, to stop them now.
PART TWO
SEPARATED BEFORE BIRTH
The fact is that once you get watered down, you forget yourself. And, if you keep on repeating your life in ascending existences, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember all that has gone before. You are quite quickly wrapped up in the here and now, living and being about the current set of years. For The Great Collective, that came about when they got watered down and forgot themselves. They could not stay fixed as a united unit, instead being torn apart by the horrors they both witnessed and were a part of. It was simply better to push
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