Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

"WE ARE DONE HERE. AND REMEMBER, WHAT HAPPENS IN MY MOTHER'S OFFICE, STAYS IN MY MOTHER'S OFFICE. QUIET CONTEMPLATION ENDS, BIOLOGICAL RIVALRY RESUMES."

"Are you saying one of the lorry drivers knows how to turn back time?"

"THIS ONE IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS. GO FIND HER. SEE WHAT A RELENTLESS OBSESSION WITH THE PAST DOES TO A MAN."

"Paledriver? I tried talking to her, but didn't get very far."

"YOU NEED TO BE MORE FORCEFUL. TALK TO HER AGAIN -- ABOUT THE ONLY THING THAT STILL MATTERS TO THIS EMPTY VESSEL -- PALE."

"A protein mass?"

"AN EMPTY VESSEL THE MIND HAS DESERTED. A HUSK, NO LONGER INHABITED BY A CONSCIOUSNESS. BIOLOGICAL WASTE."

Ah yes, 'protein mass' -- a scientific term from Graad, for a person terminally overexposed to the pale. Mouth open, catatonic, completely unable to return to the present.

This goes far beyond your conceptual reach... beyond the conceptual reach of anyone, really.

A chill races down your spine.

"Cool, where do I get the tickets?"

"BEFORE YOU GO LOOKING FOR TICKETS, I SUGGEST YOU SEE WHAT IT DOES TO A MAN. THE GHOUL IS A CRUEL MASTER, BUT IT IS NOT PALE. PALE TAKES YOUR MIND AND REJECTS THE FLESH. IT IS CAPRICIOUS AND TERRIFYING, LIKE A VIRGIN. YOU WILL LOSE YOUR COURAGE BEFORE HER FACE."

"Wait, what's pale?"

"YOU WANT TO RETURN TO THE PAST AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE FACING." He stops, momentarily speechless.

"MAYBE IT'S FOR THE BEST. IT IS TOO LATE TO EXPLAIN THE INTRICACIES OF THE REALITY-RHIZOME IF THE OPPORTUNITY TO LEARN ITS FUNDAMENTAL TERMS HAS PASSED YOU. TREAT THE PALE AS A MYSTERY -- DARK, REPULSIVE, AND SURPRISINGLY MUNDANE -- LIKE CURDLING MILK OR A MOULDING NECTARINE."

"OR GO AND SEE IT FOR YOURSELF. WATCH IT RISE FROM THE SAND AND THE SKY, TAKING CORAL REEFS IN ITS BOSOM."

You still haven't found out about pale, but it certainly doesn't sound inviting...

Pale? What is pale... it does not sound inviting.

"You don't get it. I need to bring disco back -- from the Thirties."

"I’m still convicned the babes were more faithful in the past. They stuck with their men."

"Maybe you're right, but I won't know it until I've tried the impossible."

"Wait, I thought you were a traditionalist..."

"I AM NOT A TRADITIONAL TRADITIONALIST. LIFE ON THIS PLANET DOES NOT MOVE BACKWARDS. THE IVY MOVES FORWARD, COVERING THE WHOLE DOOR. THE FLOWERS GROW OUTWARD, COVERING THE WHOLE MEADOW. NOTHING GROWS AGAINST TIME AND SPACE. ONLY ALONG ITS LAYLINES CAN NATURE PROGRESS."

(Look around.) "So does your mother work here?"

"NO."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"BUT YOU DID. AND THEN YOUR TESTICLES SHRUNK AND RETREATED INSIDE YOUR RECTUM."

This is not physiologically accurate...

"DO YOU KNOW WHO HAS ABSOLUTELY NO RESPECT FOR THIS TYPE OF PHYSIOLOGICAL METAMORPHOSIS?"

Wome...?

"WOMEN," he answers his own question. "THEY HATE IT. SEE YOU UNFIT FOR A SPIRITUAL CONNECTION. WOMEN CAN MAKE YOU STRONGER, BUT ONLY IF YOUR LACK OF CONFIDENCE DOES NOT GET IN THE WAY FIRST."

Please just agree with him -- you're in the cage of a Semenese tiger. At his mercy. He can end you any time he chooses.

"But she used to?"

"YES."

"Oh, did she retire?"

"SHE DID, YES. WITH GREAT HONOURS -- THE GREATEST, SOME SAY. A TRUE MODERN RITUAL."

"THE ENTIRE ORGANISATION ATTENDED WHEN SHE WAS GIVEN THE HONORARY ENGRAVED PAPERWEIGHT. IT WAS A TENDER DAY."

All 2,372 members? That can't be right...

Here's a son who absolutely adores his mother. Adorable!

Something moves in the depths of your mind, sending shocks of cold through the connective tissue. You're sitting on a kicksled, whizzing through the snow. A warm, kind presence is guiding the sled behind you, her mittened hand resting on your back. You feel very, very loved -- and very, very safe.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to get so personal."

"I can barely remember my mother."

"I AM NOT SURPRISED. YOU ARE LIKE THE RUNT OF THE LITTER, ABANDONED. INCAPABLE OF NURTURING A WOMAN'S LOVE. OUR MOTHERS ARE THE ONES WHO TEACH US TO RECEIVE AFFECTION FROM THE OPPOSITE SEX -- A BOND YOU HAVE CLEARLY NOT EXPERIENCED."

"INSTEAD YOU HAVE DEVELOPED THIS UNHEALTHY OBSESSION WITH THE PAST. STANDING BEFORE ME, HOPING TO TURN BACK TIME. THIS IS NOT THE ANSWER. REINVENT YOURSELF FROM DEFEAT."

"I can't remember anything about my mother."

"I am more interested in babes than mothers."

"I AM NOT SURPRISED. YOU ARE LIKE THE RUNT OF THE LITTER, ABANDONED. INCAPABLE OF NURTURING A WOMAN'S LOVE. OUR MOTHERS ARE THE ONES WHO TEACH US TO RECEIVE AFFECTION FROM THE OPPOSITE SEX -- A BOND YOU HAVE CLEARLY NOT EXPERIENCED."

"INSTEAD YOU HAVE DEVELOPED THIS UNHEALTHY OBSESSION WITH BABES. ANY BABES, MINE INCLUDED. THIS IS NOT THE ANSWER."

"IT'S NOT TOO LATE YET TO CHANGE THE COURSE. YOU HAVE ALREADY GIVEN UP ON AL GUL. NOW GO FURTHER. REINVENT YOURSELF FROM DEFEAT."

"IT'S NOT TOO LATE YET TO CHANGE THE COURSE. GIVE UP ON AL GUL. THEN GO EVEN FURTHER. REINVENT YOURSELF FROM DEFEAT."

"Mothers are great!"

"THE GREATEST."

His tone is so solemn that if your eyes were closed, you could swear he has taken a knee.

There should be something here -- a memory, a feeling, even if it's just a glimpse -- but the depths of your psyche remain silent. You don't have a single memory of your mother.

"She must have passed away. My condolences."

"MY MOTHER WILL NEVER DIE."

The words are spoken with an unyielding conviction.

"SHE RETIRED. WITH GREAT HONOURS -- THE GREATEST, SOME SAY. A TRUE MODERN RITUAL."

"What's so great about the present?"

"LOOK AROUND YOU. LOOK AT THE ADVANCEMENTS IN THE SEXUAL SCIENCES -- ALL THE NOVEL TECHNIQUES, ACCESSORIES, PRESERVATIVES, MASSAGE OILS, LUBRICATION SALVES, ABORTION CLINICS..."