Day 147 - Languages Story

Languages Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Arnie and Susie could speak to each other using a form of sign language they had invented. Arnie hated small talk and thought most public conversation was a drag. And Susie? Susie just really loved a good challenge. Susie studied language theory and a variety of gesture concepts and came up with some simple motions they could both remember. They practiced and practiced and the language grew. They both had dexterous fingers. They were capable learners. They knew nothing of grammar or proper sentence structure, but after a few motions with their hands they understood each other better than if they had just had a twenty minute conversation. Of course, they understood each other pretty well with a glance or a nod too.

 Arnie loved games of chance but for the most part he wasn’t that good at them and even when he was okay, he still wasn’t lucky at all. Susie didn’t care about winning, but she was very in love with that challenge. Susie took several concepts from Morse code and made a way for them to communicate while playing at the table. There were taps and ways to fidget to indicate every card in the deck. Each finger played a different part and could signal something different. It wasn’t a guaranteed way to win, but it was a way to help the other out. At least they never outbid each other. They once tried a different system for blackjack, but that didn’t work very well. Neither one of them knew a thing about probability nor about counting cards.

Arnie found that he was speaking less and less. He never used the phone anymore and hardly said a word at gatherings or parties. Susie had the opposite happen to her. She spoke more and more and was becoming a social butterfly. But she only used the languages that she created. She invented more and more signs and more and more methods of communications using gestures and motions. She taught her friends. Some languages were for the group, some were more private. She could go to a party and have twelve different conversations with different people and never say a word.

Arnie drank. Susie floated around the room and had a million conversations, and Arnie sat in the corner and drank. He wasn’t resentful or bitter. He never really cared for conversation and he knew it. A few hand gestures here and there weren’t going to change that. No one ever had interesting things to say. They were shallow and self-absorbed and egocentric. Arnie didn’t need to talk to them to figure that out. He just knew that was the standard operating procedure for most people.

Susie needed other people and appreciated a broader world view. She felt better including more and more people and enjoyed the benefits of a larger and expanding existence. The languages were a part of that. They were fun. Fun for her anyway.

Arnie was tired. He liked it better when he had something special with her and her alone. He liked the intimacy and the connection. He liked her. Somewhere along the way, they had lost what made them special. She didn’t seem to notice. She didn’t notice that Arnie communicated less and less. Maybe she was too busy. Maybe she just didn’t realize there was anything wrong. Arnie never spoke much anyway, even before the sign languages took over. She just didn’t notice that his ‘almost never’ had turned into ‘never.’

One night during a party, Arnie stood up without making a sound or a signal and walked to the door. He turned back and looked across the room at Susie. They just looked at each other, without saying a word. She used to understand him so well. They used to speak without speaking. Now they just stared, without sympathy or compassion and very little concern. Arnie didn’t make a sound. He didn’t say a word, or leave a note or make a signal or a gesture. He just opened the door, stepped outside and was free.

Day 146 - Code Story

Code Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The code came in. The code was reviewed and interpreted and decoded and reports were written and filed. The files were dated and stamped and recorded. There were meetings and analysis done. Those results were passed on to superiors and leaders and advisers.

The code came in from overseas. Agents had risked their lives, infiltrating the enemy and exposing themselves to discovery and torture or worse. The agents had been sent out knowing full well what the mission was. That was their choice. That was their duty. Still, their sacrifice had been tremendous. That sacrifice should be respected.

The war had been at a stalemate for years. Both sides played cloak and dagger and had spies and saboteurs everywhere. There were slow moving cold fronts and guerrilla fighting. It was a tedious effort – a chess game where one could never see the other side and never know what their next move was really leading towards.

Spies were captured and turned all the time. Codes were broken and reversed and revealed all in an effort to mislead and trick the others. A captured agent knew when to report in and when not to. A captured agent knew how to signal his compromise in a message if he was being forced to keep communications open. Part of the defensive strategy was learning how to interpret all the information and misinformation that came in. A double agent sometimes had to give information to each side. That was the hardest to recognize. Sometimes a message revealed a truth, but that was part of a larger plan of misdirection. Future plans were always more important that current plans. Future victories were more important that current setbacks. Lose a few thousand men now, but win a war later. That was a fair tradeoff.

A code came in and the code breakers saw the clear message – this message had been compromised. The agents on the ground were trying to send a warning. They did what they could. The code breakers reported what they could.

Then there was silence. No one asked questions. Nothing changed.

The code breakers were astonished. Did their superiors know? Did they listen to the reports? Protocol usually meant that superiors were always right and you didn’t ask questions. But lives were at stake. Countries were possibly at stake. Certain code breakers had less respect for certain superiors. Perhaps the messages had been lost or fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps the reports needed to be filed again. Perhaps, in the subtlest, most respectful way possible, the code breakers needed to repeat themselves.

And so they did. And then again, nothing. Silence.

The compromised codes kept coming in, warning of corruption and capture. The codes kept being returned, revealing too much.

No one understood or knew what was going on. Someone, somewhere was playing cat and mouse and had failed to tell anyone.

Day 145 - Kingdom Story

Kingdom Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

“I love all my children. But when one of you is bad, an example must be set.”

“Father!  Please—“

“’Father please.’ ‘Father please.’ You all say father please when it comes to punishment, but what were you saying when you were committing your transgressions?”

Bon was silent. At least he is smart enough to do that, thought Roland. Father was seldom a happy man, but today he was especially ireful.  Father was no fool. Bon had conspired with elders from another realm. Which realm exactly, no one was sure of. There were enemies to the east in Halania and to the west in Sul. And there were any number of tribes spread out all around that would want to see the kingdom toppled. Roland had no great love for his brother, but it still hurt him immensely to imagine his brother a traitor willing to turn against their father.

Shogarten was a wealthy land, full of mineral resources, lush farm lands and most importantly a route to the sea. There was trade and commerce and fishing and travel and the many benefits that came with seafaring. This gave the land an unfair advantage over its neighbors. It allowed for wealth and growth and riches. It led to certain dominance in the region.

An unhappy balance had always been accomplished, but often at great cost. Relationships seemed always to be strained. No one likes it when someone else has the power. That’s just the way that things go.

There had been political entanglements and wars and various struggles between the nations and the various regions. That had always been the case. But now a truly vicious war had come. Not a war as in the past, not some minor struggle for one plot of land or because of some offense or contrary custom. No, this was a battle of battles. There was ferocity and a blood lust and men fought with the desire and dedication and possession that came when someone’s entire life and nation is threatened with annihilation and the only way to survive is to kill first. The stakes were high, with nations out to utterly destroy their enemies and raze them to the ground.

Bon was a fool. He lusted for power and somehow thought that conspiring with enemies would help him gain that power. His father had been days from a separate peace with Halania and Sul. If peace could have been reached with them, then the other smaller powers and weaker tribes would have been no match. They would have fallen in line or been eliminated. But that peace would not serve Bon. His father would still be alive. And his brother Roland would still be a challenger to the throne. Bon was a fool and an impatient one. He had no need for peace. He had need for the chaos that comes with war, where he would be free to act and try to make his own fate.

A league of assassins had attempted to kill the envoys that had been sent to broker peace. The assassins had succeeded in killing almost everyone at the meeting. There was no evidence where they came from or who they worked for. They killed everyone from all three nations with equal vicious cruelty. One wounded man had survived long enough to tell what had happened.

Coincidentally at the same time as that attack, their father had been bit and poisoned by a rare and venomous snake.

If the envoys were murdered and their death could be placed on an enemy, the fighting might continue. If the king had been assassinated too, that would only prove an enemy had been responsible for both evil deeds.

Roland firmly believed his brother would never be so stupid as to try something like this on his own. Unfortunately, Roland also knew his brother might be stupid enough to listen to the wrong people and be influenced. It came as no great surprise when their father ordered Bon to be arrested and locked away. Roland did not speak up to protect his brother. No one had much of a doubt anyway. No one wanted to stand out and be accused of being a potential co-conspirator.

Their father was sick, but he was a robust man. Given time, he might fully recover. But during war there needed to be strong and decisive leadership. The murder of the envoys had momentarily stalled the peace process. The realm was suspended in uncertainty. The slightest shift either way could have explosive results.

Bon was shackled and carried away. He was not formally charged, but seven other men were rounded up and executed due to their suspicious associations.

Father rested in bed. The council of advisers was all but prepared to assume command. No one was sure what would happen if that took place. Peace was always possible, but many in the nation still hungered for total control of all the kingdoms in the realm. One thing for certain, if the war continued, no matter what power was gained, there would still be a great loss of life, resource and wealth. And one could never be quite sure of the outcome. Many powerful nations had fallen, faced with their own vanity.

It was no great shock when word went out that Bon had been killed and Roland assumed the throne. Everyone agreed that this was a prudent course of action and best suited to promote stability within the nation. No one questioned or spoke too much regarding the method of Bon’s demise, but there were hushed whispers and exchanged glances. Bon had died overnight – death by rare and venomous snake poison.

Day 144 - Swimming Story

Swimming Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Herman hadn’t been in a swimming pool for over six months. Prior to that he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t swum on a regular basis. It wasn’t a daily habit, but it very nearly was. Herman had taken two shots to the chest, and even though he was wearing a bullet proof vest, the force had cracked some ribs and knocked him back and off his balance. He had lost his grip on the fire escape and fallen. For a moment the fall felt like it was to his demise, but then the hood of his patrol car broke his fall. He ended up with several breaks in either leg, a dislocated shoulder, three broken ribs and a slew of bloody bruises. Many people considered him lucky. It could have been worse. Of course he knew that. But knowing that didn’t change anything. It was still his broken body. It was still his recovery time. It was still his physical therapy. And they were still his scars. Yes, he was lucky. Yes, he was alive. But so were the scars.

Herman sat on the water’s edge and got lost in the blue. The room was humid and stunk of chlorine. It brought back fond memories. Herman had always felt free in the water, free in a way that he had never experienced anywhere else. He thought he was a creature of the sea. The water just felt right. Somewhere in his DNA was the memory of a world ocean, full of evolutionary ancestry. The beast inside him stirred and he wanted to throw himself into the pool. Instead he sat in his chair.

The casts had come off. He didn’t need the chair. But he was still slow and he still ached and he hated to show a weakness to the world. Somehow the chair was better than a cane. Someone had recommended the humidity of the indoor pool to help ease his aching bones. They hadn’t known his history with the water. They were just thinking of his physical pain. They had no idea what mental anguish it was to sit so close to the water and yet be so far away.

When he was in school he had won tournaments. His body was pristine. And oh how the women loved him.

That was a long time ago.

His body was long and slender and his muscles were lean. He had added a few pounds over the last few years, but that wasn’t anything significant. The competitor inside him assured him he was still as capable as most men half his age.

But that was before.

He could remember a time when he was never out of breath. Now it hurt when he had to put on socks and shoes.

Herman was afraid.

He didn’t recognize himself anymore. He didn’t understand what he had become. He used to be fearless. Now he hurt all the time. The change terrified him. Thinking it might not ever be the same terrified him even more. He didn’t want to get in the water. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t know what he would do if it were true – if things really were never going to be the same again. He didn’t like to think about problems that didn’t have solutions. Life was unfair that way; most of the real problems never had solutions. He had never had to think like that before. Problems used to seem so easy.

He sat and watched the tranquil water. The casts had come off. Everyone encouraged him to get in the water. It was time, they all said. It would help with the healing. Not today it wouldn’t. No, not today. Today was for sitting and thinking. Herman stared into the water and saw the transition of his soul reflected back.