The Crimson Eye

Scene played out on 26th March 2011 between the GM (David-Visage) and Yomiko's player.


«Scene Starts»

The crimson eye blinked.

Yomiko wanted to scream, wanted to beg, wanted to make it -stop-. As she knelt exactly where Mother had left her the pain in her legs was nothing compared to the sight of that single LED blinking ever so slowly off and on again.

It felt like hours ago that Mother had left her kneeling in the study of their home for her 'disrespect' and the young girl thought that she was going to soon go mad. From the corner of her eye she could see the red LED on the VCR turning back in again, something about that exact color and the rhythm auguring into her thoughts and shredding her self control.

Mother was always right, but couldn't she just be a good girl? Her head had been hurting in strange ways all day, the sight of anything more complex than a doorhandle making storms of ideas surge through her thoughts, and various colors and lights seemed to want to burn into her already sore eyes.

But Mother would be disappointed if she moved without permission. Mother was always right. She was disrespectful to Mother and she deserved this.

But couldn't it all just sto-

The thought shattered as, deep inside Yomiko, something which was essentially Yomiko ceased to be her any more.

The sudden onset of pained screaming is only halted by the spasms in her narrow chest said pain causes. A chaotic jumble of thoughts crashes through a rapidly expanding mental horizon, like the big bang of intellectual awakening… And then the silence of the den is broken by a low groan as the thoughts align. /I remember this/

The crimson eye blinked off, granting Yomiko a brief relief from its burning gaze but leaving the sure knowledge that the painful light will soon return.

Her mind twists round and round in ways nothing possibly could. Confused jumbled visions and lines of mathematics she forgot a decade ago flow freely with tears to the current of the throbbing in her legs. "Madness" she whispers to herself, daring to lift her hands from her lap to cover her eyes. Anything to stop that burning glare.

Beyond her hands she knew, she knew, that the light had blinked on again its its metronome regularity. Yomiko couldn't see it, but her mind all too readily provided the image of the hellish LED shining and burning her eyes with its light. A little LED on a clock which was just a tangle of wires and circuits, so simple, but it taunted her by its simple existance.

Yomiko begins to rock back and forth, a thin lip trapped between her teeth. The rocking awakens fresh spasms of agony, pain blooming every time her circulation starved extremities get a fresh gasp of oxygen. Pain is good. Pain is the mind saver. Pain keeps visions of dancing electrons falling down pinprick holes in reality from crawling across her eyelids.

That would be simple. The concept slips unbidden into her mind, invited by her stray thought, and blossoms there like a conceptual rose. The right equipment, the right array of parts, put together like so could poke such a pinprick and let her just…

The light blinked off.

No! No no no no no! Not this time! She presses harder against her face, the heels of her palms sinking in until all she can see is stabbing lights. It didn't work! It never works! Better too… too…

The pain brought relief, or at least distraction, but ideas continued to unfurl in her mind like a clock spring formed of barbed wire. Jagged fragments of idea were there, waiting to put themselves together if she would just listen.

Intensity of light was inversely proportional to the square of distance…

Power bound up in distorted space could be easy tapped by…

Tau over theta to the power of lambda proved that the…

To force a displacement of matter could be accomplished by…

Form follows function. Function dictates form. The correct form for power engineering is dictated by the function of the squared surface. But it was easier to use a… a variable emitter? The memory of a design rises to mind, /where did I learn that from?/

In her mind designs and mathematics briefly disagreed, but math and common sense lost to the other. These designs, for hundreds of emmiters and thousands of uses, all agreed that this way would work after all. Yet none of this influx of knowlege told her where, or how, she knew such things.

The light blinked on.

It wasn't working! Nothing is working! Why won't this demon leave her alone! If… If only she could find her balance, find the center of her thoughts… Maybe… maybe a glass of water would help. Some precious fluid to quench her thirst. This light won't let her be! If only she could drown it all away!

"Yomiko?" Mother called from the doorway gently, looking towards the still kneeling teenager, "Why are you not sitting properly? Put your hands back upon your lap, daughter."

Yomiko licks her lips, and tastes blood where she's bitten herself. "Hai." She says softly, lowering her hands to her lap again. What else can she do? She arranges herself properly, the pain subsiding a little now that she's growing used to it.

Mother inclined her head fractionally, "I shall leave you a little longer to your contemplations of your flaw behaviours. Once you have done so adequately then please speak to me in the kitchen, daughter. I shall be waiting to see you there."

That… that gives her hope. Hope that she may defeat this devil. And something wells up within her, a merging of ideas far beyond her own experiences. /Could be worse. Could be a colonoscapy/ And that leads to a flurry of associations, which, for a moment, maker her forget all about… that… red… light… DAMN IT.

The crimson eye blinked again, powered by wires and circuits which Yomiko knew could be made to do so much more than torture her, and refused to be ignored. Distantly she could hear the sounds of her mother working in the kitchen, closing cupboards as she searched for something from the sound of it, but that was just a vague intrusion into the ever increasing flood of ideas which all fought to be concidered.

As a purely hypothetical design problem… what would happen if… But no, the electron gun wasn't capable of that fine control. She knew that. She remembered that. To the very end of time that red eye would mock her…

But… But the magnetron in the microwave oven has enough power….

The Kitchen. That is the key. Come what may, Yomiko must get to the Kitchen.

The kitchen wasn't too far away, just through the door and along the corridor, but the ache in Yomiko's legs would make even that distance painful. And it occured to the young gitl that would not Mother be annoyed if she wasn't suitable aware of her errors in behaviour?

Wait… She has to wait… Not until she can get to the kitchen can she have a hope of making that red light suffer. make it pay for it's arrogance and presumption. Maybe even erase it from existence. That would be nice… Her hands curl into tight fists as the agony builds again, her short trimmed nails digging into her palms

Oh, that would be simple. The thousand schemea which had been digging into her mind evaporated as ones which would do -that- remained. Erasure would be hard, but if she wanted to destory it then it would be easy. Just a few components could generate a bubble around that -thing- and let her fry it at her leasure. A jacketed carrier of infrared could make the plastic melt, smolder, and then burn within the confines and the crimons light would never bother her again.

The eye blinked and spiked crimson into her thoughts.

That is not HELPING. But it would be oooh so satisfying. Why had she ever been worried about sending things back in time? It would be so much easier to just freeze things in bubbles of time. Reduced scope would mean reduced complexity! That might work!

A small and trecherous part of Yomiko's mind suggested that Mother would be never get angry… be disappointed with her again if Mother was just held there in a perfect moment.

And this time, it could work. This time, there wouldn't be holes in time. No warp tunnels. No destroyed house! Just a nice, localized bubble…

The problem of power came to mind and seemed rather more intractable now. To hold time like that steady would be… hard. There's be pressure and flows and tempor-spacial currents and….

The laundry room has a 220 line. That may be enough. And wasn't there a trick? A trick learned in a place of echoing halls and blessedly organized technology?

Exponential functions tumbled through her mind like so many friendly puppies, obedient but not -quite- doing what was wanted, and showed that it might be enough… or might not be. It would require tying to find out for sure even as a few possibilities showed themselves to be disasters. But surely she'd not get something so -obvious- wrong?

If nothing else, new experience shows that things can be wrong. Where else in the house can she get the required amounts of power? The stove. The kitchen stove and microwave. The breaker box would be twice as heavy in that room… But how to get her mother out of the Kitchen?

Yomiko wasn't sure when she had actually stood up, twinges of discomfort in her legs being the first sign that she had which registered on her mind, but by the time she realised that she had she was already almost at the door. With the decision to do something, with the thought to build one of the ideas which troubled her, the tiny red light in her mind became more ignorable. So long as she focused it was just a red light rather than an all-consuming eye.

But how… How to get her mother out of the kitchen for long enough for the bubble generator to be completed? Ah. Dinner. She should offer to make dinner in repentance. That would be a good final memory for her mother. A dutiful daughter serving as she should.

"So, Yomiko, will you explain your ealier behaviour now or must I encourage you?" Mother asked, already sitting at the kitchen table as the girl entered.

Yomiko braces herself against the door jamb for a moment, swaying a minute as blood flows back to her legs and joints in a rush of fiery pain. She takes a breath, and then bows as deeply to her mother as she can. "Mother I apologize." she says sincerely. "There was a boy. A boy I wished to speak to. But obviously, he will not speak to me."

<@GameServ> Yomiko rolled 1d20: 15 <Total: 15(+1) = 16> (Untrained Bluff to be evasive)

<@GameServ> David-Visage rolled 1d20: 8 <Total: 8(+4) = 12> (Sense Motive against the Bluff)

Mother looked at Yomiko concideringly, not filching or seeming concerned by how her daughter requires the support of the door to stand up right, then gives a curt nod of her head, "As he should not. I shall take your lessons as learnt, for the moment, and permit you to go to your room. I assume that you have some additional academic work that you might seek to perfect?"

<@GameServ> Yomiko rolled 1d20: 16 <Total: 16(+1) = 17> (Will save vs emotions)

The normal sense of relief, of acceptance that this is the way that things should be, was oddly lacking for once. Perhaps it was the new thoughts, the other memories, which caused this, but Yomiko felt… nothing.

Yomiko bows deeply again to her mother, her grip on the frame white knuckled as she fights to keep from toppling over. "Mother I do have extra credit work I could complete." She gulps, her hair hanging down nearly to the floor. "Mother, I wish to make amends to you. May I have the honor of preparing the meal?"

"I believe that you had best sit, or lay, down in your room for a time." Mother told her with the faintest of reassuring smiles, "I would not wish you to injure yourself inadvertantly."

"Hai." she says softly, standing as smoothly as she can to turn about and limping to her room. There she sits long enough to allow circulation and sensation to return. And then she begins to gather tools.

Before today the idea of building something in her room might seemed to Yomiko to have run into the problem of there being unpromising materials available to her. Now though she could look around and see the potential. How she could easily retrieve components and salvage pieces from her television, her light, her clock-radio…

Red caught Yomiko's eye, making the breath freeze in her lungs, as the small time display on the clock radio counted off the seconds.

The crimson eye blinked.

The motors of the VCR would make… fine… NO. It FOLLOWED HER!

«Scene Fades»


Notes: This didn't show much of the 'arriving' mindset, but it did evil things with the new Yomiko.