The End

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Re: The End

Post by AnotherFairportfan »

jwhouk wrote:
Julie wrote:So...no pressure, but try not to die or get your client killed. :P
Paranormal legal system defined, ladies and gentlemen. :lol:
Imagine if the defense lawyer shared his client's fate.

Evolution would quickly develop attorneys so good Perry Mason would be in awe
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Re: The End

Post by jwhouk »

Dave wrote:
Sgt. Howard wrote:Imagine practicing law in THAT environment!
You would want to do so very well, very professionally, very ethically, or not at all.

I suspect that the penalty for legal malpractice might not stop at disbarment. Even "being held in contempt" might have a very literal, and very uncomfortable meaning thereabouts... as in "held upside down by your anckles, over a cliff, by something much larger and meaner than you will ever be."
I'd suggest this would be the way to "Kill all the lawyers" to get "real justice", as the bard would say.
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Re: The End

Post by AnotherFairportfan »

jwhouk wrote:
Dave wrote:
Sgt. Howard wrote:Imagine practicing law in THAT environment!
You would want to do so very well, very professionally, very ethically, or not at all.

I suspect that the penalty for legal malpractice might not stop at disbarment. Even "being held in contempt" might have a very literal, and very uncomfortable meaning thereabouts... as in "held upside down by your anckles, over a cliff, by something much larger and meaner than you will ever be."
I'd suggest this would be the way to "Kill all the lawyers" to get "real justice", as the bard would say.
Actually, "kill all the lawyers" was a step toward disrupting society:
Debbie Vogel, letter to the NY Times, 17 June 1990 wrote:In reference to the review of ''Guilty Conscience,'' (May 20) Leah D. Frank is inaccurate when she states that when Shakespeare had one of his characters state ''Let's kill all the lawyers,'' it was the corrupt, unethical lawyers he was referring to. Shakespeare's exact line ''The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers,'' was stated by Dick the Butcher in ''Henry VI,'' Part II, act IV, Scene II, Line 73. Dick the Butcher was a follower of the rebel Jack Cade, who thought that if he disturbed law and order, he could become king. Shakespeare meant it as a compliment to attorneys and judges who instill justice in society
http://www.nytimes.com/1990/06/17/nyreg ... 99990.html
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Re: The End

Post by Atomic »

Edit - The side story "The Last Night" occurs just prior to this episode. It contains a link back to here at the end, should you care to include it in your readings!

---------

“Thacker. Come in, sit down.”

A pale mist drifted through the marble doorway into the chamber. As glorious as the outer gallery was, this hall was beyond spectacular. Four pairs of square, maroon granite pillars graced the walls, each separated by light blue limestone panels, themselves engraved and chased with silver designs. Jade light sconces, alternate blue and green, topped the pillars and shed a slightly flickering glow upon the arched ceiling. As the mist moved away from the door, the ceiling glittered – the reflection and iridescence from thousands of opals paving the ceiling.

Midway up the columns, a shelf displayed some glorious artifact of natural mineralogy. Here, a fan of native gold tendrils, the size of two open hands, extending from it's quartz parent. There, a sparkling cubist display of tin, or silver, or copper florets. All metals, all extending from a native rock, all sitting on a intricately woven lace doily. At the base of the each column, a pedestal, with doily, supporting a mounted flower of crystals – calcite, quartz, amethyst, topaz, diamond. Each glittered in the diffuse light filling the chamber.

A cobalt blue porcelain hemisphere, edged with gold trim, sat upon a simple marble base. The bowl was tilted toward the desk – the altar? – at the end of the room. The mist floated across the mosaic floor and worked it's way into the bowl. It was a pale blue-green against the white interior. The desk was rose marble, it's flat top edged with sapphire, garnet, and amethyst. The face panels were inlaid with lapis lazuli and designs chased in silver and gold. The place looked like a wealthy mafioso geologist decorated with a taste for the Neoclassical blended with Art Deco. Behind the desk was not a throne, but a large rattan papa-san chair, decorated with black and white accents. A lace doily hung over the top.

Now he understood whose voice called him. He knew this was a temple when he was brought here. But this? This was the Sanctum in the Temple of Hades.

“It's been three days, Thacker. I see you've learned to get around fairly well.”

“Yes, thank you, my lord.”

“Basic courtesies will be fine. Nobody likes a suck up.”

“Yes, sir.”

A black visage faded into view. It placed a gold chalice on the desk, on a doily coaster, then sat in the papa-san chair. Only the eyes were visible.

“I'm not here to argue theology. By now you're starting to appreciate this place – my place – and why you're here. This isn't Heaven, this isn't Hell. And I'm not here as lord of the exiles or such. I chose this because I like it. This is what I do.”

The visage took a sip from the chalice.

“Consider this place more of a Purgatory than punishment. The souls here can spend their time regretting whatever or enjoying whatever. They can grow if they choose to, or they can imprison themselves in their own misery. But I see to it that those who want to move forward have the support to do so. That is my joy. Your spectacular execution was a lesson to you about how important your actions were to others in life. That said, it's behind you. If you want to wallow in it, that's your business.”

The visage leaned back in the chair. The rattan creaked.

“I'm not one to waste an opportunity, and you present one to me. So, I have an offer for you. You have Master's Degrees in Criminal and Abnormal Psychology. As Warden, you've settled riots and, more importantly, prevented them time and time again. These are the skills I'm looking for.”

“What would you have me do, sir?”

“You can decline this. You continue to settle into your new life, learn how to interact and become corporeal again, and follow the path you choose in this realm. But if you do this thing for me, I will return you to life, full, free, and unfettered, from whichever birth happens at the time. I make no guarantees of the life you find yourself in – what you make of it will be yours to decide. And, in the fullness of time, when you return, the shadow of your recent crime will be gone. Do you understand?”

'What would you have me do?”

“The peace I keep in my realm is of volition. The basic social contract of customs and courtesies. But there are always those who arrive for whom the world is simply to be plucked for their enjoyment. These people are a bane to all the others. Their joy is to create misery. I do not tolerate this. Those people I condemn to eternal frustration – at least until they change their ways. Their personal hell is self inflicted. Do you follow?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have many people to help me do this, but there is a group who act in concert, a gang if you will, who oppose and disrupt what peace I can offer the rest of this world. Their leader, plus 144 others, have so far been resistant to my efforts. I want you to disrupt them. All I want from you is a single defection. That will show them I can reach them.”

“Who is their leader?”

“A demon condemned long, long ago. His name is Ba'el Zebub.”

“YOU WANT ME TO CO-OPT SATAN?”

“Yes, if you can! But I'll settle for a single one of his followers. Just one. And I'll give you 50 years to do it. If not – if you fail – at least it will be a good try, and you have the rest of eternity to enjoy this place.”

“I'll do it.”

“So quickly, eh? I wonder. I tempt you so easily, Thacker? I do have one huge reservation about you, though. Not about violating the Pact, not about your career. It's about why you killed Ed Clarke.”
Last edited by Atomic on Mon Nov 07, 2016 12:18 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: The End

Post by Sgt. Howard »

We missed a spectacular execution? ...awww....
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Re: The End

Post by jwhouk »

Tasted like chicken.
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Post by lake_wrangler »

More than the execution, I was looking forward to the trial... I particularly liked the concept of the Pact, and was curious as to how you would let it play itself out in court.

So... I gather he was found guilty... On both counts? And did he get "clemency"? When DID his head come off, to end his agony? ;)
(Who did the eating, and did they get a stomach ache for their trouble?)


Meanwhile, nice transition, letting us guess on the rest...
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Re: The End

Post by Atomic »

Bloodthirsty bunch of people, aren't cha?

Well well, we'll just have to see....
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Re: The End

Post by jwhouk »

Just no Seven Days stuff, 'kay?

And btw nice touch, calling Calista's dad "Calvin."
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Re: The End

Post by Atomic »

“Sir, Ed Clarke was dying of pancreatic cancer. We both agreed the vampire program was the gentlest way out.”

“Don't lie to me, Thacker.” The visage leaned forward, one elbow on the desk. It's eyes narrowed. “Those men in your care – you are their guardian. You are obligated to see to their needs, their protection, their growth. They are nearly helpless before your absolute power, and you chose to crush one of them. They are your wards, and you are their warden! That's why you have the title! And you, for all your authority, for all your righteousness, for all of your vanity, killed a man because you didn't want to pay his medical bills! You talked Clarke to death to save a buck!”

The mist roiled in the chair-bowl then leapt out across the floor and onto the desktop. It rose and spread wide to stand on the edge of the desk.

“Shut it.”

The visage rose from the chair to stand, arms straight, knuckles on the desktop, leaning forward to face the sheet of mist.

“How Dare You...”

“I said SHUT IT, Hades!”

The visage was mere inches from the pale mist, eyes narrow and piercing. It was awash in a deep blue glow, a halo accented by flickers of orange and yellow around the edges.

“In more than thirty years, thousands of men came by my care, and I am proud of the more than two hundred who never returned. I know them, and not just by Christmas cards. I know their families, I know their children, and I mark my success in that they've succeeded with life in some way due to my programs. I require neither your understanding nor approval for this. It exists.”

The visage didn't move. Neither did the mist.

“I went to the Superintendent of Prisons when I first heard about the vampire program. He declined it. He wanted all prisoners to serve their entire sentence. I knew Ed was ill and recast the proposal as a cost cutting measure. Then he bought it. You want to be pissy at someone for money grubbing, he's your guy.”

The mist rolled backward off the desk edge and gathered back in the chair-bowl.

“My brother died of pancreatic cancer. I was there holding his hand when he went. So I knew what Ed was in for, and I made it my goal that he could avoid it. We talked, and he chose to go. My fight was to make it work through the bureaucracy. But there was always that doubt about his innocence. The only way I could help Ed was to guarantee he be seen as guilty.”

The visage leaned back from the desk. The blue aura was weaker.

“I have no idea how the eye-bleeding thing works, but after reading the requirements, I gambled it could be confused. So I rotated people through an empty cell as a setup for the meeting. The worst case would be them finding him innocent, then having to spend months dying slowly after. The reward of innocence was worse then the penalty for guilt.”

The visage sat down. The rattan creaked as it leaned on one elbow. The glow was gone.

“My brother spent nearly two weeks dying by inches. I had a sunny afternoon on a table hearing my flesh rip and feeling my bones break. I got the better deal. And, knowing what I know now, would I do it again? Yes. If you don't believe my story, check it out. I'm sure you have the resources.”

The visage squinted again.

“And, not to be bitchy, but if you didn't know any of this already, that tells me a lot about who you are and how you operate. I'm not impressed.”

Hades leaned forward and casually drummed his fingers on the marble desktop. The gentle tapping seemed loud in the deep silence of the Sanctum.

“Fred, I do know about this. It looks like I've finally found the man I've been looking for.”

“I've had worse job interviews.”

Hades smiled. “Tsillah, dear, would you come here please?”

Thacker saw a shadow move across the floor, then gather and form as a young woman with an eclectic taste in fashion. “Howdy!” she smiled. “Your locomotion is pretty good. Well done!”

“Fred, your first task is working on a corporeal form. Tsillah will help you with this. Once your stable and practiced, you can use the great Library to study and prepare. But – you must have a new form. You can never again acknowledge anyone you've ever known, especially at the Library. Anonymity will help as you prepare your strike on Zebub.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tsillah.”

“Further, be aware this realm is full of philosophers and theologians who gladly help new people settle in and resolve their issues. Take full advantage of them to gird yourself against the premier corrupter of souls.”

“Absolutely!”

“So – any initial thought on how you want to go about this?”

“I'm starting with Sun Tzu's order of battle. Attack the man, the plan, the alliances, the resources, and lastly the army in the field and the cities. You want me to attack his allies. I want to attack the man. All I need is one voice into one ear.”

“Oh – For example?”

“Catherine the Great's horse.”

Tsillah roared and bent over with laughter. Hades smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“If nothing else, this is going to be interesting. But, considering his wide range of activities, how can you possibly embarrass him?”

“I intend to attack something he can neither deny nor defend. I'll attack his past.”

“Very well! One last thing though – you will have all of my powers and resources at your service when you're ready to make your move. But no doubt he will counter with powers and resources as well. How will you make your decision? Where will you place your loyalty?”

“All of your powers, eh? So this is like Pharaoh and Joseph then?”

“Yes, exactly, to stop destruction, not starvation.”

“You've offered me life, unfettered, and free. He will offer me a life of service to him. No thanks.”

“Unlike some of my kind, I make it a point to earn respect and be deserving of loyalty. As you check the Library, you will learn that I keep my word. And Fred, you've earned my respect. May I offer you condolences for your wife's situation now. I will provide what comforts to her I can.”

“Thank you, Hades. We discussed the risks and she knew why I was doing this. That you can do anything, help her find love again.”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, if I may ask – since I only know you from legend – what's the deal with Persephone?”

Hades smiled. “Simply, we eloped. Made for rather an awkward situation, but worked it out with the six month vacation thing. She finds the most amazing stuff when she hits the Spring festivals. Like this, for example? She picked it up in Taiwan.” He stepped to one side to display the papa-san chair. The back was a pair of swirling dragons, one black, one white, each grasping a ball of the opposite color in it's mouth.

“Granted, it's touristy as hell, but it's well made and I love the Yin-Yang dragon design. Then one time she went to Holland to see the tulips. She did, big time, and came across lace in Amsterdam. Fell in love with it. So now I have doilies everywhere.”

Hades moved the chalice and held up the doily coaster. “I mean, I love her to bits, but these? Everywhere? A guy likes to put his feet up on the furniture now and again, right? Sheesh.”
Last edited by Atomic on Mon Nov 07, 2016 12:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The End

Post by Warrl »

Dave wrote:
Sgt. Howard wrote:Imagine practicing law in THAT environment!
You would want to do so very well, very professionally, very ethically, or not at all.

I suspect that the penalty for legal malpractice might not stop at disbarment.
Just one extra syllable - "mem" - would be applied. You can guess where it goes.
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Re: The End

Post by jwhouk »

A deal with the devil to get the devil...

(wanders over to confusion corner for a cookie...)

(comes back with a coffee and a scone)
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Re: The End

Post by Atomic »

“Good morning, happy people!” chirped Suzie McBride as she entered the Rec room. Lily Pratt was close behind her with a valise. Two dozen heads turned to watch them sweep into the room.

“I liked the other outfit,” said Pico with a smile.

“Sorry, Pico – not today,” replied Suzie. Lily put the valise on the table, then moved off to the side of the room. Several guards were at the back. “Nice to see you again, though!” Pico gave a thumbs-up.

Facing Suzie and the table were three clusters of people in folding chairs – the principal officers and leaders of the three prison gangs. Pico was an extra, but sat in the middle group with the Mexicali Rangers, led by Raul DeLaHoya. The Arayan Block and The Brotherhood sat in their own groups as well, flanking the Rangers. Frank Rockwell, and Clinton Jones despised each other publicly and privately, and put a lot of effort into doing so.

“Some of you I met in the yard when I last visited. You know Ed Clarke was innocent, and you know he died. He died because we were duped by Warden Thacker and he's been held accountable for it. He's been convicted and executed.”

“Damn you guys move fast,” said Clinton Jones. That was what, three months ago?”

“Yes. He had two months to prepare and good people to defend him. The issue is settled. I told you I would make it hurt, and I did.”

Suzie leaned back on the table, arms crossed, as the groups murmured among themselves.

“By the way, there's one more thing. The part about Ed being innocent. He was convicted for killing his wife and daughter, but no bodies, only two bloody knives. So – how did that happen?”

The conversations stopped. They all looked at Suzie.

“East Texas Ed got married in 1959 to a Creole Louisiana Cajun. Not a popular thing to do. Later he moved to Southwest Oklahoma, had a daughter, and got along with the neighbors, mostly. When his daughter was five, it was time to register her for Kindergarten. And then...”

“Somebody threw a party?” sneered Frank Rockwell.

“Come on, Frank,” offered Raul DeLaHoya. “We all like a good story, let the lady talk.”

“Raul, you're too damn polite.”

“You want to go back to the Weekly Bleeder days? It can happen.”

“Shut it, people!” interrupted Clinton. “Back to you, Red.”

“Frank, you've got a big mouth, I'm sure you've got big muscles, too. You're what – 76 now? But you still look like you're in great shape. How about you get up, take off your shirt, and show me those big muscles.” Suzie smiled an exceedingly evil grin.

“Sure thing cupcake!” Frank uncurled his six foot frame from the folding chair, took off his shirt and tossed it on the chair back. Fifty years of tattoos were on full display. Swastikas, Iron Crosses, SS lightning bolts, and on and on. He struck a pose to the applause of his cadre. Someone in another group let out a raspberry.

“I may be a bit old, but I'm man enough for you, darlin!” Frank smiled over his curled bicep as he stared at Suzie.

“My, my! Look at all that ink! And some scars, too, don't ya know!” Suzie began a slow pace around Frank to take in the view. Frank turned toward the crowd, following Suzie.

“And, on your right arm, those look like defensive scars – here, and here – probably from a knife attack, eh?”

“I've met my share of fools.” Frank sneered and stood hands on hips, showing his taught belly.

“I'm sure you have, Frank. Oh! Lookie here – hidden under this lovely flying skull thing, more scars on the right side of your rib cage. Those really must have hurt! What, about 40 stitches each? A bloody mess to get those three at the same time.” Suzie was moving slowly, bent at the waist, hands behind her back. She didn't want to block the view so the others could see for themselves.

“Ah – there's the one I was hoping to find. This scrape down the length of your left forearm, topside, almost to the back of your hand. Funny how it's three parallel lines.” Suzie stepped back and grinned. “Do you remember how that happened?”

Frank smiled. “What you reaching for, darlin?”

“Let me remind you, Frank. I'd bet you got all those scars the same day. The day you found out Marie Clarke hunted alligators – she knew how to use a knife. The day she slashed the hell out of you with a boning knife and a serrated steak knife. The day you killed Marie Clarke.”

“Never happened.”

“You're six foot two and she was five foot nothing. You're right handed, she was a leftie. She could duck under your arm with the boning knife and parry with the steak knife. And I'm sure you bled like a stuck pig until you managed to kill her. The knives are still evidence in storage. Your blood is on them. Between your daddy the defense attorney and step-uncle the judge, I'm sure it was easy for them to ignore blood evidence. But, you don't control DNA testing these days. You're under arrest for murder.”

“So what – I'm a lifer anyway. Pretty good health, too, and I can run out the clock on any trial. Be some entertainment for me.” He started putting his shirt back on.

“True, true, but you remember I said I would make it hurt? Let me show you some things.”

Frank turned to face the table as Suzie opened the valise. Guards moved in to stand behind Frank.

Suzie held up some papers. “Remember the apartments? Gone. The farmland? Gone. The auto dealership? Gone. Bank accounts? Gone.”

Frank grabbed one and read it in disbelief.

“The safe houses? Gone. The cocaine stash? Gone. The land deal? The other land deal? Gone!”

Frank crumpled the paper and threw it at Suzie. It bounced off her chest. She laughed. The guards moved in to hold and cuff Frank.

“Ok, sure you've got another, oh, say 20 years. But they'll be years as a useless, impotent, penniless, jerk. As of right now, you've got nothing to trade for favors or payoffs. Zip, nada, zilch. Not even the stack of counterfeit hundreds , or the DVD maker. Not even the stamp collection – we got that too. Probably 20 grand right there – it was a good one, but hey, it's gone!”

Frank was shaking with anger.

“And, by the way, the IRS will come after what's left of what you actually own on the level to take care of the back taxes for all the other stuff.” Suzie's smile got bigger. “Yep, the next 20 years are going to be real fun for you. I hope you enjoy every second of them!”

Frank was led from the room, cursing all the way. There was a quiet pause after the door fell shut behind him.

“So, you got the coke, too?” Clinton had a worried look.

“Hey – don't cry to me about who you got in bed with.”

“Damn.”
Last edited by Atomic on Mon Nov 07, 2016 12:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The End

Post by AnotherFairportfan »

Yep. Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.
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Re: The End

Post by Atomic »

“Hang on a second,” asked Raul DeLaHoya. “You said 'Daddy the defense attorney,' as in Frank's daddy? What the hell?”

“Exactly,” replied Suzie. “The whole trial was a setup. Ed didn't know it at the time. The FBI legal review team called it the worst clusterfuck they've ever seen. They did everything but toot the whistle and play taps when they railroaded Ed.”

“This sounds like some fun stuff. How'd it go down?” Clinton Jones leaned forward in his chair.

“OK,” said Suzie. “It's 1967 and the various Klan groups have been after Ed and Marie since they got married. Now baby June is old enough for Kindergarten, so they start the paperwork. Joanne Summers, school board member, pitches a fit – 'No darkies in our school!' or something like that. And now the ball is rolling. Frank and probably at least one other person get the call. Ed's at work, comes home to find black blood in the kitchen, two knives, and missing family. Police, blah blah blah and he's charged with murder.”

“Now for the setup. I'll focus on the prosecutor, David Winslow. His brother, Robert, had two daughters, Joanne and Jean. Joanne married, so her family name was hidden. I'll get back to Jean in a minute. Robert and David were sons of Harold and Margret Winslow. With me so far?”

Various heads nodded. Lily was still leaning against the wall off to the side. She smiled a bit.

“Harold had died, Margret remarried, and her new husband had a brother, Alfred Bolton, who was a judge. This made Alfred step-uncle to David Winslow. David the prosecutor arraigned for Alfred the judge to preside at the trial. Ed needed a lawyer, so Judge Bolton provided one: Henry Rockwell, Frank's father. And how was Henry part of the family affair? He was married to Jean Wilson! So all the players were either niece, step, or in-law related, but no one had the same family name. Great cover to hide what they were up to. A real lawyer would have called for mistrial in a heartbeat due to conflict of interest. After the conviction, Henry stood in the way of appeals, again, for the family.”

“Geez, what a rat's nest,” sighed Clinton. Raul shook his head.

“And, once Frank was in here, he probably pulled strings to get Ed moved to this prison so he could continue to torment him. So, the stabbings. You know what's what on that, and I'm not going to go there. Your house, your mess. Frank scammed you. Deal with it.”

“No comment,” said Clinton. He looked at the floor. Raul looked at Clinton.

Suzie turned to gather the papers back into the valise. Pico spoke up.

“So Red, I'm out next Tuesday. We on for lunch?” Everybody looked at Pico.

“Yeah, why not. Sure, Pico – how's Sunday sound?”

“Perfect!”

The inmates responded with mild laughter and scattered applause. The guy wasn't even on the street yet and already had a hot date.

“So – tall, dark, and slinky – what's your deal in all this?” Raul stared at Lily. Lily stared back.

“For me, all this is just the same damn thing, over and over again. People don't learn. Sad, really.” Lily walked over to Suzie in front of the table.

“What do you mean? Murder solved, bad guys dealt with – ain't that supposed to be Justice?”

“It's not that, it's how it all got that way.”

“OK, so?” asked Clinton.

Suzie closed the valise and moved to the end of the table. Lily leaned back on the table and crossed her arms.

“Let me explain something. Suzie over there is over 2000 years old. I'm more than three times her age. So when I say I've seen it before, believe me, I've seen it hundreds of times, probably thousands.”

The room was silent for several seconds. “Seen what?” asked Raul.

“Seen what happens when you don't listen.”

People looked at each other, then back at Lily.

“I've been in prisons, I've been in palaces. I've been in nurseries, I've been in graveyards. Been there, done that. And along the way, I've learned about leadership. Leadership is not being the first lemming off the cliff. Neither is it being the lemming standing on the rock next to the cliff top shouting 'Onward!' with it's dinky little fist in the air. Leadership requires you stop every so often and ask 'Where are we going again, and why?'”

“That's what got me killed, long, long ago. I was a nobody, but I asked some questions. Somebody didn't like it. They killed me. But it didn't work. Instead, I get to watch the damn fool thing they were making rise up and tear out their throats. Talk about a civilization getting ground into dust – they're not even a memory anymore. That's how bad it was.”

“So now I get on with getting on. Eventually civilizations rise again. And every time, I saw people who didn't want to hear, who didn't want to be questioned, who did anything to avoid everything that didn't fit what they want. I saw them die. The people who shoot the messenger never get the message. And, it's the message about what's going to destroy them. Surprise!”

“If you're going to listen, somebody has to talk. If you shut them up, you don't need to listen, you think – but the problem is still there waiting for you, whether you like it or not. That's just the way it is. Closing your eyes doesn't make a burning house go away. You die with your eyes shut instead.”

“And what do I see going on here? How hard did Frank work to silence Ed? To keep people from talking to Ed? To stop learning anything from Ed? And the worst of it is that Ed had found an answer – a good answer – to a lot of the garbage you all have to deal with. But now, you'll never know. Turn off the listening, silence the talkers, and... what? You lose, that's what.”

“I see three groups of people all stuck in a power play for their own ends and piss on everybody else. Nobody can find a better way because there's only one voice at the top and piss off if you don't like it. Everybody is stuck. You've built your own prison inside of this one.”

“You don't have to agree, you don't have to respond, or defend, or react. But hearing an idea, even a dumb one, makes your world a little larger. And maybe it will spark an idea that's actually good. That's why you need to listen, and why you need to talk. Good ideas come from anywhere. You have to catch one when it passes by.”

“There's a story about a small mountain village in a remote land. Every few years, the elders find the smartest person in the village. Then they kill them. They want to avoid change. And, after years and years of this custom, what is this village famous for to this very day?”

Lily stared across the room. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

The audience sat quietly.

“Pico,” said Suzie, “I'll see you get a contact number for me. See you Sunday!” She and Lily left the room. The prisoners continued to sit quietly, thinking about Lily's words.

Clinton Jones broke the silence. “So Pico, did Ed have anything to say?” Pico and Clinton looked at Raul. Raul nodded.

“He was big into art stuff,” Pico replied. “One of the things he mentioned was something called sand paintings. Seems a bunch of Buddhist priest types would take a table top and make a picture one grain of sand at a time. Took weeks.”

“For real?” asked Clinton.

“Yeah – but the kicker was when they were done, they'd look at it for a day, then dump the table.”

“What?” said Raul.

“I said the same! Then Ed started telling me about...”
Last edited by Atomic on Mon Nov 07, 2016 12:44 am, edited 1 time in total.
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AnotherFairportfan
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Re: The End

Post by AnotherFairportfan »

Yay! Except i seem to recall that what got Lily killed and vamped was pretty much random chance that she happened to be pregnant with too many babies.
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lake_wrangler
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Post by lake_wrangler »

AnotherFairportfan wrote:Yay! Except i seem to recall that what got Lily killed and vamped was pretty much random chance that she happened to be pregnant with too many babies.
True: she and the other five mothers were revived and dropped into the desert to die.
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Re: Search…

Post by jwhouk »

lake_wrangler wrote:
AnotherFairportfan wrote:Yay! Except i seem to recall that what got Lily killed and vamped was pretty much random chance that she happened to be pregnant with too many babies.
True: she and the other five mothers were revived and dropped into the desert to die.
Ah, but the convicts don't know that...
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Post by lake_wrangler »

jwhouk wrote:
lake_wrangler wrote:
AnotherFairportfan wrote:Yay! Except i seem to recall that what got Lily killed and vamped was pretty much random chance that she happened to be pregnant with too many babies.
True: she and the other five mothers were revived and dropped into the desert to die.
Ah, but the convicts don't know that...
True. And it's not impossible that she might have spoken against making the golem... but I still think she was more anonymous than that... But the convicts don't need to know that...
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Sgt. Howard
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Re: The End

Post by Sgt. Howard »

A totally awsome story... one with a beautiful (if harsh) message as well. Bravo!
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