Utopian Circus by C. Sean McGee
Chapter 25
Marcos looked at The Pudgy Old Lady who was gripping her stubby fingers into the dirt and twitching her toes in anticipation. He then looked to his left at Mother whose vessel; as The Pudgy old Lady described it, was almost entirely drawn in sand and as the wind swirled, so too did parts of her body as the loose bits of dust where her eyes had been, carried off into the hair and hanged about Marcos’ head and like a ring, the dust ran around his head, blinding his vision.
“Do it now” screamed The Pudgy Old Lady. “Now” she screamed, “Now!”
“Who are you?” Marcos screamed through the chaos.
His eyes were shut firmly, but he focused his mind and could see in his conscious eye where he body would be laid. The Pudgy Old Lady screamed into the air and thrust her body left and right in a fit but careful not to relinquish herself form her elemental pose.
“There’s no time. Commence the first act. Hurry, before it’s too late” she screamed.
“What happens if you lose your face?” he yelled.
“I die” she yelled back.
“And what will happen if Nature dies?” he yelled.
“God will be alone,” she said.
“Why should I help you? You’ll just keep on killing” he yelled.
“Without Nature, everything will stop. You won’t find your woman” she said.
Marcos thought then of The Woman’s face and was overcome immediately with a storm of emotion. Though he felt like he wished she were swept away by her insolence for she wouldn’t reason with his beliefs on nature, he also wanted to rush to her side and abate her fears, keep her closer than his own shadow and walk with her into whatever their outcome may be.
He wanted more than anything, to escape the hilarity and obscenity of this dream and now, as he stood holding the skin of a dead girl in his hands and saw firsthand the vile narcissi that was Nature, he wondered if he really wanted The Woman to birth at all or whether The Industry was right, that Nature was unjust; a cruel and venerable dictator that must be stopped at all costs and that only the cogs of Industry could possibly define morality.
“I can take you to her” she yelled, “Do it!!”
Thinking only of The Woman, Marcos laid the skin dress upon Mother and the dead skin came to life and light flashed from her eyes and shone high into the night sky as the swirling air rushed into her mouth and the dusted skin once again turned to flesh.
Every part of the ancient being became a human vessel once more. Her skin started to soften and abandon the rule of age, turning from rusted brown dirt to soft milky white skin. The energy from the dress that Marcos had rested upon her mangled face was now feeding life into her veins and extorting the extravagance of existence and rested it in her fingertips. She was becoming young and alive again.
As Mother’s lips started to part, The Pudgy Old Lady screamed,
“Now, do it now.”
Marcos took a sharp knife from the hesham bag that The Pudgy Old Lady had been carrying and leaned downwards to the belly of Mother which was swelling now as her being exited the sky along with the other elements about the room; the other old ladies with skin dresses on their faces.
He buried the knife into her stomach and tore upwards. He had seen this done before by machines and he imagined himself as having a giant metallic arm that knew exactly where and how deep to cut. The tip of the blade slid through the soft skin of her belly and Mother gasped in horror as her stomach opened and there was nothing that she could do. Her arms and legs were crushed and removed from her body when they were just dust wanting to merge with the dry earth. She was now; as life filled her veins, just a head and a torso and writhe as she may, it could do nothing to keep the human from opening her up just like humans did and stealing the sun from her womb.
Marcos reached his hands into her stomach, and tore open her womb, pushing his hands deep inside and around the ball of energy and ripped it out into the night. Mother continued to scream as the life was taken from her in a manner that nature would never attest to.
Marcos held the sun in his hands and as it burned right through to his core, he thought only of the child that The Woman wore inside her own womb and how this, this cutting of women, was not what he would attest to either. He wasn’t sure how to feel as he gazed into the ball of fire in his hands, thinking only of saving his own child from this fate.
“Now” screamed The Pudgy Old Lady as Mother slipped into unconsciousness; her eyes stapling shut as around the room, old ladies began to wake inside their human vessels, croaking and gurgling with despite towards the treachery that played out beyond their immediate reach.
Marcos looked at The Pudgy Old Lady who was gripping her stubby fingers into the dirt and twitching her toes in anticipation. He then looked to his left at Mother whose vessel; as The Pudgy old Lady described it, was almost entirely drawn in sand and as the wind swirled, so too did parts of her body as the loose bits of dust where her eyes had been, carried off into the hair and hanged about Marcos’ head and like a ring, the dust ran around his head, blinding his vision.
“Do it now” screamed The Pudgy Old Lady. “Now” she screamed, “Now!”
“Who are you?” Marcos screamed through the chaos.
His eyes were shut firmly, but he focused his mind and could see in his conscious eye where he body would be laid. The Pudgy Old Lady screamed into the air and thrust her body left and right in a fit but careful not to relinquish herself form her elemental pose.
“There’s no time. Commence the first act. Hurry, before it’s too late” she screamed.
“What happens if you lose your face?” he yelled.
“I die” she yelled back.
“And what will happen if Nature dies?” he yelled.
“God will be alone,” she said.
“Why should I help you? You’ll just keep on killing” he yelled.
“Without Nature, everything will stop. You won’t find your woman” she said.
Marcos thought then of The Woman’s face and was overcome immediately with a storm of emotion. Though he felt like he wished she were swept away by her insolence for she wouldn’t reason with his beliefs on nature, he also wanted to rush to her side and abate her fears, keep her closer than his own shadow and walk with her into whatever their outcome may be.
He wanted more than anything, to escape the hilarity and obscenity of this dream and now, as he stood holding the skin of a dead girl in his hands and saw firsthand the vile narcissi that was Nature, he wondered if he really wanted The Woman to birth at all or whether The Industry was right, that Nature was unjust; a cruel and venerable dictator that must be stopped at all costs and that only the cogs of Industry could possibly define morality.
“I can take you to her” she yelled, “Do it!!”
Thinking only of The Woman, Marcos laid the skin dress upon Mother and the dead skin came to life and light flashed from her eyes and shone high into the night sky as the swirling air rushed into her mouth and the dusted skin once again turned to flesh.
Every part of the ancient being became a human vessel once more. Her skin started to soften and abandon the rule of age, turning from rusted brown dirt to soft milky white skin. The energy from the dress that Marcos had rested upon her mangled face was now feeding life into her veins and extorting the extravagance of existence and rested it in her fingertips. She was becoming young and alive again.
As Mother’s lips started to part, The Pudgy Old Lady screamed,
“Now, do it now.”
Marcos took a sharp knife from the hesham bag that The Pudgy Old Lady had been carrying and leaned downwards to the belly of Mother which was swelling now as her being exited the sky along with the other elements about the room; the other old ladies with skin dresses on their faces.
He buried the knife into her stomach and tore upwards. He had seen this done before by machines and he imagined himself as having a giant metallic arm that knew exactly where and how deep to cut. The tip of the blade slid through the soft skin of her belly and Mother gasped in horror as her stomach opened and there was nothing that she could do. Her arms and legs were crushed and removed from her body when they were just dust wanting to merge with the dry earth. She was now; as life filled her veins, just a head and a torso and writhe as she may, it could do nothing to keep the human from opening her up just like humans did and stealing the sun from her womb.
Marcos reached his hands into her stomach, and tore open her womb, pushing his hands deep inside and around the ball of energy and ripped it out into the night. Mother continued to scream as the life was taken from her in a manner that nature would never attest to.
Marcos held the sun in his hands and as it burned right through to his core, he thought only of the child that The Woman wore inside her own womb and how this, this cutting of women, was not what he would attest to either. He wasn’t sure how to feel as he gazed into the ball of fire in his hands, thinking only of saving his own child from this fate.
“Now” screamed The Pudgy Old Lady as Mother slipped into unconsciousness; her eyes stapling shut as around the room, old ladies began to wake inside their human vessels, croaking and gurgling with despite towards the treachery that played out beyond their immediate reach.