Time Off For Good Behaviour....?

Greetings.

First off, if you're reading this, the chances are you've followed my odd little story thing since it started, so thanks for sticking with it and I really hope you're still enjoying it.

I've been putting out a new chapter every day for over two and a half years now. Sometimes they've been good, sometimes they're a bit ropey (yes, I do know), but they keep coming. Right now we've just reached the end of the Eighth Interlude, and we're about to embark on the penultimate episode (I think).

Which seems like a good moment for me to say “Whoa, time for a break.” On a personal level, the past two years have been unusually cruel and brutal, and I think I'd like a little time for myself, to heal some wounds, reconnect with a few friends and most of all take stock.

To that end, I'm taking a couple of weeks off. Twixt the Warp and the Weft Episode 9 will premier on Monday, January 6^th on the internets, or on the 7^th if you wait for it to flop into your inbox.

I'd like to take this opportunity again to thank you for sticking with it, and to wish you the very happiest of holidays.

See you next year,

Gx

Eighth Interlude - Part Fifteen

“Manipulated certain attitudes...” the hoods seem to ponder, “That couldn't lead to a disaster of such a magnitude.”

“Sorry, but I disagree,” Castor replies, “I'm starting to believe, that over a period of time, whatever this creature of the Weave is, it fostered a certain amount of....call it carelessness. Less than due diligence when it came to matters of safety.”

“What could this creature hope to achieve?” Both hooded figures reek of perplexity now, obviously faced with a hypothesis they can't hope to understand.

“That's just it,” she tells them, “I don't think it hoped to achieve anything in particular. I think it was...” she pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. “Experimenting,” she continues finally, “Testing its' own influence. It created an atmosphere where some sort of disaster was inevitable, then waited for events to work themselves out.”

“If what you say is true,” the first hood replies, the first time it has spoken alone for some time, “This marks a dramatic change in the nature of the war between the Forest and the Weave. From now on we must be extra vigilant, extra cautious. Nothing like this disaster at Chernobyl can ever be allowed to happen again.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Fourteen

“NO!” she screams again, every fibre of her being rejecting this unjust accusation.

“If not you, then what?” Both figures still tower over her, recrimination lurking in the darkness of their cowls. “Whatever crossed over? Did that cause the explosion?”

“I'm not so sure something did cross over,” Castor says, “Nothing physical anyway.”

“But you said you thought something of the Weave was manifesting in the Warp.”

“I know I did,” she replies, “And for a time I did wonder about that. But there's no evidence, no trace of anything physical whatsoever.”

“So tell us,” both figures step back a little, giving Castor a little room to breath, “What do you think happened?”

“Influence,” she tells them, “Something in the Weave manipulated certain attitudes, in order to achieve a desired outcome.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Thirteen

“W-what?” Castor asks, a wave of shock and cold dread washing through her.

“You'd established that something of the Weave was abroad in the Warp,” both hooded figures are towering over her now, making her feel small and insignificant. “You couldn't quite pin point where, but you knew it was there.”

“No,” she says desperately, “No, that's not what happened at all.”

“You knew that following protocol would take time,” they continue, their words shaking her very bones, “Time you felt was in short supply. You knew this thing had to be stopped, before it could spread further.”

“NO!” she screams, “I was trying to understand...”

“You took matters into your own paws,” they're looming so large over her she can barely breath, “Stop it spreading at all costs. That's when you caused the explosion!”

Eighth Interlude - Part Twelve

“So they were concerned?” the hoods ask.

“Oh yes,” Castor replies, “The Chief Engineer made several notes in his personal log.”

“But they did nothing to avert any untoward events?”

“No,” she says sadly, “It was as if nobody cared. And even if they did, they didn't have the authority to make the necessary changes.”

“Authority,” the hoods speculate, “Let us go back to events following your meeting with the Chief Executive.”

“Yes, ok?” she asks.

“You say you felt that something from the Weave had crossed over?”

“That's correct, yes.”

“But you weren't sure what, or how?”

She nods her agreement.

“Is that,” they begin, “When you decided that structural changes would be required?”

Eighth Interlude - Part Eleven

“You told them the plant was still operating at half power?” No matter how much she shifts her chair, Castor cannot help but feel the two hooded figures keep closing in.

“I did. They said not to worry, shutdown would resume shortly.”

“And did it?” Both hoods are speaking as one now, two bodies but only one deep, rumbling, terrible voice.

“Not immdeiately, no,” she tells them, “ It was still several hours before the load dispatcher gave the green light to continue.”

“And in the meantime....?”

“The power levels fell dramatically below a safe operating level. The crew made some effort to raise them, but all to no avail. Then, at around eleven pm, the green light was given,and everybody seemed to forget about the danger. They continued the shutdown, regardless of their own concerns about the state of the reactor.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Ten

“Did you speak to this Chief Executive?” One of the hooded figures asks, Castor isn't sure which one.

“I tried,” she replies, “But his only response was to sing louder, to drown out my words.”

“And what conclusions did you draw from this meeting?” Both hoods turn towards her, leaning forward.

“To be honest, I wasn't sure of anything at that point,” she says. “Something had...” she pauses, unsure about what she'll say next. “I was starting to believe that something had crossed over, as ridiculous as that sounds. That something from the Weave was manifesting in the Warp. I thought it had control of the CE, but only insofar as it could absent his conscious mind. But I didn't think it was still in him.”

“Where did you think it was?” Both hoods lean closer still, making her feel quite claustrophobic.

“I still wasn't sure,” she replies, gently pushing her chair backwards to create more breathing room. “So I tried to contact the Central Energy Authority.”

“And their response?”

“That there was nothing to be concerned about, everything was going according to schedule.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Nine

“He did what?” Castor can't be sure, but the question rumbles and resonates so deep that she thinks both hooded creatures asked it in unison.

“I don't think the song was for me,” she tells them. “I went to his office and knocked. There was no reply, but I was sure I could hear a voice, a sort of singing, so I pushed the door open and there he was.”

“The Chief Executive?” the first voice asks. “How did he react to you?”

“Well, that's just it,” she replies, “I don't think he did.”

“Explain.” That was definitely both of them, firm and demanding.

“He was hunched over his desk,” she says, “The way a child might when they want to hide what they're doing. When I looked closer, I saw that he was drawing on the cover of a file marked “Eyes Only”. And he was singing.”

“What?” the second voice asks, “What was he singing?”

“I'm not sure,” she says, “A nursery rhyme of some sort, I think. But I hardly recognised the language. I think it was one of the old tongues, but I couldn't be sure.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Eight

“Why?” the first voice asks, “What was so bad about that?”

“The reactor was still running,” Castor replies, “I know it was at half power, but it was still running. There seemed to be no awareness of safety protocols whatsoever. And that was just the start.”

“How do you mean, just the start?” the second voice shudders through her.

“Well, to begin with, they were still following their original timetable,” she tells them. “The emergency systems shouldn't have been turned off before the reactor had shutdown. Then the day shift ended, the evening shift came on, and they didn't seem to know anything about a shutdown at all.”

“Did you take any action when you discovered this?”

“I did,” Castor confirms, “I approached the plant's Chief Executive with my concerns.”

“How did he react?”

“As if I wasn't real,” she says, “He sang me a song and drew a field of daisies.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Seven

“I don't remember,” Castor pleads, “Everything was so confusing.”

“Think,” rumbles the first voice, “Just think. Concentrate. What was happening when you arrived.”

“The reactor,” the memory flashes in Castor's mind, “They were shutting down the reactor. I was worried, but it was just routine. That's what they said anyway. I wanted to know what “routine” meant, they said they'd done it last year, so I didn't challenge it further.”

“What did happen?” The second voice presses her.

“The reactor was operating at about half power when they got a phone call from someone called the load dispatcher.”

“What did they want?”

“They refused to allow the shutdown to continue. Another station had gone off line, so the power was needed.” Castor pauses, a frown moment. “The shutdown could only continue once the power wasn't required.”

“Something bothered you about that?”

“Not that, exactly,” Castor replies, “But when they switched off the emergency coolant system, that's when I started to worry.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Six

“What do you mean you don't know?” the first voice rumbles, “You must know, you were there, you witnessed it all.”

“I know, I know,” she whines in distress, “But I don't know what it was that I saw.”

“Then let us take it step by step,” the second voice reverberates through her, “Start with your arrival at the plant.”

“Why?” she demands, “Why should I tell you? I don't know who you are.”

“We're on your side,” the first voice grinds, sounding surprisingly reassuring. “If it helps, try to think of us as auditors. It is our job to find out what went wrong, if proper protocols were adhered to, if anybody acted beyond their proper authority...”

“You mean you're here to see if it was my fault?” Disgust shivers through her whole body, a bad taste leaking into her mouth.

“That is within our remit,” the second voice tells her without comfort, “But that is not our purpose, or the sole extent or our role.”

“So,” the first voice continues, “When you arrived at the plant, what did you see?”

Eighth Interlude - Part Five

Reluctantly, Castor nods her head in agreement.

“A verbal response is required,” one of the hooded figures demands.

Castor, head still bowed, says nothing.

“It is within our power,” the other voice tells her, “To compel your participation, but such a course of action can be highly unpleasant. It is preferable to us to avoid such a situation, if that is possible. Is that possible?”

She nods her consent.

“You must speak,” the first voice commands.

“Yes,” she replies.

“You are Castor?” the voice demands.

“Yes,” she confirms.

“You are an Agent of the Forest?” the voice continues.

“I am,” she says hesitantly.

“Good,” the second voice says soothingly. “Now, in your own words, tell us what happened at the plant.”

“That's just it,” she tells them, her frustration finally getting the better of her, “I don't know what happened.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Four

Both figures emerge from the smoke, tall and hooded, with no distinguishing features to tell them apart. Both reach into the mist, fetching chairs from nowhere, and proceed to sit.

“Now,” says the first, in a voice so deep it rumbles through the floor, “Tell us what happened at the plant.”

“Just a minute,” she replies, “Why should I tell you anything? I don't know who you are.”

“You will tell us,” the second voice says, and she realises she doesn't know which is speaking, “Because you want to go home.”

“I'm not saying a word,” she insists, “Until I know who you are. Are you from the Forest?”

The first figure rises from its chair, towering over her. “Who we are is the least of your concerns,” it says fiercely. “We will start with the basics. You are Castor, yes? You are an Agent of The Forest?”

Eighth Interlude - Part Three

The smoke thickens and expands, curling its way into the room while never quite breaching the bright light border. She covers her mouth with her hand, worried she might choke on the fumes, but the smoke doesn't actually stray beyond its frame. Instead it simply fills the rectangle of light, darkening and thickening as it does.

Still, she's concerned for her safety, so she backs away, getting as far from the cloud as she can. So busy is she trying to keep a safe distance that she doesn't notice a figure moving through the mist. When she does, she gasps. An action that brings with it the realization that the smoke is benign, but now she's more worried about the hooded figure coming towards her.

“Just breath,” a deep voice rumbles at her, “You are in no danger. You have nothing to fear here.”

“Who are you?” she demands.

“All in good time,” the voice comes again, “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

A second figure appears in the gloom. “Yes, have a seat,” a second voice grinds, “We have some questions.”

Eighth Interlude - Part Two

She doesn't know how long she's been there: there's no way for her to measure the passage of time. No clocks or timing devices of any sort, the kind of measure she thinks of as the human way. But the room is also sealed, no windows or doors, so no movement of shadows as the sun makes its way from day to night and back again. No plants to watch grow or wither with the passing seasons, it's just her in a room, with only her own heartbeat to measure the seconds.

She's just about to give up hope of ever seeing daylight again when a crack appears in one wall. It starts at floor level, a vertical shard of light reaching up from the floor. It takes a few moments for it to climb the wall to head height, where it stops. The atmosphere in the room becomes pensive: she's frightened about what's coming next, but there's more to the mood than that. It's as if the crack itself is trying to decide what to do next.

After a few moments it makes a decision, travelling horizontally across the wall for a distance of half its' height, where it pauses once more, before unexpectedly racing back to the floor, leaving a rectangle of light in its wake.

Within seconds, that light begins to fizz, turning to thick smoke.

Eighth Interlude - Part One

She sits alone, hands resting gently in her lap, looking round at the bare featureless room in which she was told to wait. She doesn't know where she is. Nor does she know how she got there, who brought her or why. She'd attended an incident, an imbalance, done everything she could, followed the protocols to the letter. Her hands twist together as she can't help but think she should be back home now, hunting wetlands for tasty morsels, not sat here like this. She begins to wonder if she's been captured, if this is the Weave and she its' prisoner. If this was the Weave, it certainly wasn't what she was expecting. The incident hadn't ended well, she knew that, there was going to be fall out, of that she was certain. But she'd done her bit, was preparing to depart when they showed up. Four of them, all faceless with hoods and long robes, and her world went dark.