SW.SW


A new chapter, written yesterday afternoon, for the currently manuscript still open on Space-Erotics – DorisDawn.com.

“Welcome back to the NetherLands, Beatrice!”

The Magdalene’s fingers are closing a cloud of consoles in thin air. “Wish for a hug?”

“Always!”

They hug warmly yet somehow frugally before the tall one captures the little one’s face between her firm palms.

“Let us bring our foreheads together, shall we?”

“Eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye, so it is, little thing. It brings us in sync just like this.”

“I see now!”

“What do you see, Beatrice?”

“I see that you see.”

“You mean?”

“Loki!”

“You wish to have Loki. To master him like you did execute control upon Astarte.”

“It- it– it is one of my desires. Yes, Maggie. I wish to control Loki.”

“Why didn’t you express this wish to Yasu?”

“He should have read it already. My mind is an open book to Him.”

“Why didn’t you manifest it? Like a requirement. Like you enjoy calling Him for this or for that. This my question, Beatrice.”

“Um. Perhaps because I’m a bit scared myself.”

“Scared of what?”

“Maybe scared of my desires. Why do I wish to obtain control over nutjobs, train wrecks, loons? Why do I wish to fix other people?”

“Well, ain’t this who you are?”

“Who am I?”

“You are Beatrice, the social worker.”

“I was always looking for social justice.”

“Justice is work.”

“I am passionate about working, about getting the job done.”

“So fascinated that you arrive to invent new projects only for the sake of getting more work done.”

“Sounds like an addiction. Especially when coming out of your mouth, Maggie?”

The Magdalene smirks, inviting Beatrice to follow her deeper down the wet jungle of her NetherLands.

“So much dew on all these cubes. And that scent. Oh, or the other. So many scents!”

“These servers are heating way too much, too often. I spread the dew to cool them down. But you may forget about them. Look ahead, to the glades.”

“Left or right?”

“Pick your preference. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Left!”

“Left for Loki. Makes sense.”

“Really? What makes sense here?”

“Not much.”

“If anything. Nonsense.”

“Follow me, to the closest glade to the left. Here. Let us sit.”

“A lovely spot. The grass is tall and dry, away from the surrounding servers.”

“You like it?”

“Reminds me of the brousse.

“The African bush? But this is green.”

“Dry green. No dying plants in this Eden.”

“Yeah, yeah. Mark these details for your readers. Good that you keep thinking of them. I often find myself rambling far and farther astray.”

“Important details, Maggie dear. We need our readers to understand us, right?”

“Right. We need each other. Collective consonance brings such a joy to our bodies, to our minds. Caressing our souls and loving…”

“Looking for love. Finding Yasu in each other.”

“Blissful happiness. We live it. We breathe it. Look that way!” The Magdalene points her finger to the center of the glade. Pointing, she speaks “Look!” once more and a mellow sun clouds the cube sitting dry and idle in the middle of this green brousse.

“What is, or what was, that cube?”

“My cube. It is mine.”

“Yours? Like in all yours and only yours?”

“Mine. Like in all mine and just mine.”

“What about the orange balloon shadowing it?,” wonders Beatrice as she hovers ahead of The Magdalene.

“Stirred up your curiosity?”

“I’m a curious nature, you know.”

“I do. That’s not a balloon but a sun.”

“A sun? Like a star? And how is that it’s clouding the cube beneath it? Suns shine, no?”

“Shining in darkness is one thing that suns do. Yet darkness is not a factor here.”

“Ah, indeed. No darkness could encompass this eternity.”

“Or any of the other eternities. Darkness seems like a side effect of time.”

“So your own cube has been bathing in splendors of light…”

“Uncreated Light!”

“So your cube has been waiting for us, here at the middle of this round green glade, bathing in Uncreated Light, which means to me that Yasu constantly stared at it. And now, out of the blue, you slap a shadowy sun over it. Why? Maggie, tell me why?”

“Because I wish to show you a sw–“

“A what?”

“A sss-wamp. A swamp. Here, I said it.”

“Not without some difficulty.”

“Hard to make up obsolete words.”

“I can sense that. So you can shadow something from the Light of God? Here in this Eden?”

“As you can see, yes, I can.”

“How comes?”

“Your mom was allowed the stubbornness to live and relive her sorrows every Wednesday. In this Eden. Your father could battle his daemons down on Titan. You were allowed to roam the cursed earth for two centuries after they had you killed. Yasu allows us so many things.”

“Maybe too many?”

“As many as we ask.”

“Hum. As simple as that.”

“As simple as that.”

“Show me!”

“You ready?”

“I am ready!”

start systemd — types The Magdalene into the mellow sun.

“Why don’t you speak the commands? Why do you type them?”

“Not a good idea to speak your system daemons out. Better lock them to the console. Verba volant, scripta manent.

“Manent into the cube. I see.”

“Spoken words fly away, written daemons remain — locked into the cube. Yes.”

“And you’ll need that clouding sun to display their shadows. For my readers.”

“For your readers, little Beatrice.”

“Maggie?”

“Yes.”

“You show me porn.”

“My cube, my porn. Yes, I show you my porn.”

“But I see none of your clients. You shared memories of them with me.”

“When we got in sync.”

“Now and then, from my first visit to your NetherLands on. I enjoy getting in sync with you. Eye to eye.”

“Good.”

“Where are they, your clients, because I can’t see them in your porn. The porn that you present to me under this mellow sun.”

“My former clients do not belong to my porn.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Serving them, pleasing them, I kept my emotions away. Never mixed the trade with my feelings.”

“Your love?”

“Yasu, always!”

“Your feelings?”

“All daemons are wrong. Some may be useful.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Okay. You the social worker here, right?”

“Right.”

“Tell me, in your line of work, where is your love?”

“Yasu, always.”

“And your feelings?”

“My papa, my maman.”

“And your passions?”

“Those train wrecks, the lunatics, whackjobs, remember?”

“I remember. What’s the difference between passions and daemons?”

“Passions are longings, programmatic longings. Daemons are processes, random processes.”

“And you won’t mind programming a process or two?”

“I was taught to take one at a time. One daemon after the other. And never give up on it until it gets annihilated. Then a ten minutes break before the next daemon is brought in.”

“For questioning?”

“Interrogation and execution. Yes.”

“Yasu couldn’t pick a better choice for the Weapon-woman. Absolute obliteration.”

“Out of existence. Out of memory. Next!”

“You give me shivers.”

“On your spine?”

“On my spine.”

“Astarte used to say that I send my icy spiders up her spine.”

“Still, you liked her. You acted as her counsel, in her defence, when Kronos and all the civilized world took away the custody of her twins. At many points, according to the recordings from another cube, back there in the forest, you were her closest and truly best friend.”

“And still!, I never allowed myself to get swamped in feelings for her.”

“You’ve got to stay professional.”

“As a social worker should. It’s about justice!”

“As a sex worker would. It’s just sex.”

“Aaaa-haa! I see now. Astarte was like a client to me.”

“Why do you wish to have Loki?”

“You mean?”

“In what quality?”

“As a client. Like Astarte.”

“And for what purpose?”

“I want to test myself. Am I capable to find a legal loop for him?”

“Emotions? Feelings?”

“Nope. Bias. Loki helped my maman get free from her tormentors.”

“So you wish to return the favor?”

“Only if there is a legal way.”

“Like water makes rivers in the desert, Love always builds bridges across the abyss.”

“I love Yasu, can’t think of loving Loki.”

“Loving Khrist, you can think of loving anyone within, right?”

“Right. Is Loki within?”

“Who knows where he is?”

“Yasu?”

“Yasu recused Himself from this case.” The Magdalene blocks the mind of Beatrice with such a statement. Yasu Khrist Pantokrator recusing Himself from administering justice to a serpent seed? Can this be? “Let us get in sync, my little one.” Muted, Beatrice brings her forehead to touch the tall one’s. “Eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye.”

“You see now?”

“No, Maggie, I can’t see, what is there to see?”

“Nothing! There is nothing to see. Loki is undetermined. Is he? Is he not? We can’t tell because we can’t see. Recusing Himself, Yasu has already allowed us to find a solution to this uncertainty.”

“Loki is uncertain!”

“The most uncertain thing in my NetherLands. Trust me. I’ve seen all but I can’t see this.”

“Astarte was a clear case. Loki? I don’t know.”

“I dare you!”

“And I dare you!”

“Let’s do this!”

“Let’s do this!!”

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