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Cryptic Zen

The Seriously Abridged Edition

My rasping breath - and my heart - leaped into my throat as the witch said my name the second time.

"Finn McGill."

Shivering and wet - I could run no more, and the thunderstorm over this hilly moor flashed in her eyes. Smirking, she stalked down to just outside the circle of pale blue light cast by my night herald.

"The last Bard to fall to the Dark. So hard We've worked to take your soul, so hard and have been cheated so many times." Her words were whispered echoes of what the shadows surrounding us sussurated; She was their walking space in this world, their latest champion. They promised her power, and asked for nothing more than to swallow the spirit that fueled my bardic magics. "The power of your words, your songs will be ours, your soul as well ..."

Her eyes locked with mine, the cold and swimming depths prying into me as she said my name the third time.

"Finn McGill." I shuddered. It lifted from me.

The look on her face as that soul passed to her, entered her mind and her body - and she realised the price she'd have to pay -

I think that when she finally screamed, I could hear the echoes of Weird Al Yankovic's "White And Nerdy" in the tremulous cadences of her last gasp for breath. That means she'd managed to get past Kenny and Dolly's "Islands in the Stream", past even MC Hammer's "Addams Groove", had managed to cope with most of the ad jingles. Maybe "Unskinny Bop" broke her will, maybe it was Vitamin C's "Smile". Her last will and testament: "Word to ... your Mother."

The nebulous, pale blue warble in the air that had hung over her body floated back to me, rested on my shoulders, melded into me as if it was a pair of wings. I sighed. Concentrating, I pushed down LEN's "If You Steal My Sunshine", and began humming "Sisters of Mercy" as performed by Sting & The Chieftains - to drown it out. Resisting the urge to dance, caper, spin, pirouette and leap (Simultaneously), I began the walk home.


She almost survived it, too.


Hi! I'm Steven Akins. I am /not/ That Steven Akins, nor am I That Steven Akins, nor That Steven Akins,
nor THAT Steven Akins, not even THIS Steven Akins, nor This dude. In fact, the only two places my real name is connected to anything online any more is this livejournal, my wife's livejournal, and Amtgard!

I'm a 34 year old atheist. I was diagnosed in 2002 with Asperger's Syndrome, and have grown up adjusted to it. I spend a lot of time helping raise my five-year-old stepson and six-month old son, loving life with my wife, and beating down anxiety about the economy and whether my job will continue to exist for another year.

I don't own a car. I might buy a bicycle. /Maybe/ a moped.
I don't have a cell-phone: Fuck mobile carriers, their rates, and their willingness to install unwarranted wiretaps.
I don't have Internet from home: Fuck the telcos, their abysmal service, their abysmal transfer speeds, and their willingness to install unwarranted wiretaps.
Found one that hasn't been indicted or implicated in unwarranted wiretaps. Also, I have a wife who needs Internet access.

I work as a digital-rational / analog-irrational entity mediator, or - if you will - a Domain Ontology Liaison. This is a highly specific way of saying that I am a frustrated computer scientist working as a database goon, for a non-profit, meaning "I don't really profit".

Real programmers set the universal constants at the start such that the universe evolves to contain the disk with the data they want. Real database operators shift universes until they arrive at the one containing the tables they want.

Jumalaa tuskin on olemassa. Lopeta siis murehtiminen ja nauti elämästä.

Wish List:

For you all to stop arguing and do what I say, damnit.
"Enjoy the Sheket" remix of "Enjoy the Silence".
Someone must invent immortality and, if it may only be used once, it must be used on Terry Pratchett. Right after the Alzheimer's cure.

Inyë léran lairë
findë tengwestanya avanyárima na mólttë
tiënye, námon
ulyaldë etta mótaldë.

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