Message in a bottle.(S)

Jared pondered as he held his own skull in his hands. At that moment all he could focus on was that he had a much larger forehead than he had expected. Then again maybe it wasn't that big. Maybe it just seemed big because it didn't have skin and muscle padding it out. He held it up and stared into the sockets, comparing it to his own head. Despite his attempts to make light of the situation, he couldn't shake a horrible feeling of vertigo as two forms of himself crossed the time stream. His guide was understandably quite anxious.

'There, you've seen your own skull, are we done now?' groaned the Djinn 'I should never have brought you here, this shouldn’t have been possible' he floated in a corner of the crypt moored to his lantern prison. He wasn’t a stereotypical Djinn, or genie to use the more mainstream pseudonym, he had no intonation of Arabian heritage, being only a ghostly wisp of pale green that flickered ever so slightly and consistently that one could mistake him for solid. He had no hair and his face was marked only by a thin mouth that never moved, even when he spoke, and two black eyes. His eyes were dark voids that seemed to look both everywhere and nowhere at once. His moorings were similarly unconventional. Instead of the typical oil lamp prison that litter fairy tales and folk stories he inhabited quite a Victorian candle lantern. It was an ornate thing made of brass and copper with six sides, each with a window to let the light out. The candle like the spirit burned with a light green glow that seemed almost calm in nature. It perfectly complimented the dark and grubby browns and reds of the old brass lamp. 'That's one wish wasted, are you happy now? My wick's almost out. unless you have a spare candle on you we should get going or you'll to be stuck here.' He paused for a moment and pondered that thought 'Stuck in your own crypt in the future, God only knows what kind of paradox that would create'.

'Relax, the fact that we're even in here means that we get out in time. For an eternal spirit you sure are high strung.' Jared grinned at the lamenting genie. Sure enough it was within his future self's will that his past self and the unnamed genie were to be allowed into the crypt, a crypt that only really existed for this point in time. Having lived through the event, accommodating his past self was the least he could do. A point that unsettled Jared. ‘So this is pretty much inevitable, I go back, I die eventually and leave my skull for my past self to manhandle’ he accidentally dropped his displaced cranium, it fell to the cold stone floor and now sported an unsightly crack. Suffice it to say this made him wince quite a bit.

‘That’s the short of it yes. Be thankful, not many people get to see their own corpses while they’re alive.’   The genie grinned having reluctantly calmed down. The wish was not as fulfilling as he had hoped, he would have expected some grand realisation or exposition of fate or something, anything better than disappointment and regret. It was an odd wish, to see his own body. One of those rare flight of fancies and wanderings of mind that can only be had by a young man.
‘Not many people have a genie as a family heirloom’ he replied.
‘You should be so lucky’ came a sarcastic retort from the spirit ‘Two left, wishing us back counts as one, I warned you time travel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Your family never listens.’
‘Oh? Someone else travelled in time?’ He asked, only recently becoming aware of their precious heirloom. Though it should probably have come as no surprise. His family was extraordinarily wealthy and held influence within the government. All that money and power had to come from somewhere.

‘Oh yes, your great uncle back in the eighteen hundreds wished to go back to ancient Egypt. He had just about finished wishing us back before a spear severed his spine.’ He had a nostalgic look in his dark eyes that made Jared uncomfortable, swiftly he changed the subject.

‘I could wish myself to be immortal and stop this from happening’ Jared said defiantly. He had placed his skull back on the shelf with the other relics of the twenty-first century. He was surprised that tombs weren’t that much different in the future than they were of his time. They were still the monolithic and drab granite temples to the reaper that they had always been.
‘You could’ he scratched his insubstantial chin and shrugged ‘but you would cause another paradox and destroy this entire timeline, a thousand lives that have been born could potentially be wiped out by the ramifications. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience would you?’ he smiled his grim smile again, the smirk only a being as tricky as it was wise could have. ‘Besides immortality isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, trust me. If I made you immortal eventually you’d either get trapped somewhere or eternity would fly by in a heartbeat.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Jared asked
‘I’m an immortal spirit, alive since the dawn of civilisation; I have had thousands of mortals asking for immortality and then being driven insane by it, or trapped in some cataclysm. It all ends the same, they all end up begging for the death that won’t come.’ he said in an unwavering and chilling tone.

‘I know. You could bring me back to life. I wish to be brought back to life’ Jared said triumphantly. As he awaited the usual flashes and bangs of the Djinn’s sorcery he was only met with an awkward silence and the cold dead stare of both his skull and the genie. He shook his head glumly and laughed benignly at his master's impotence ‘What’s so funny?’ Jared asked the mocking genie.
‘That you think you can beat the system. Trust me sonny I’ve seen it all. From you and your ancestors, you all think you can beat the universe, but you can’t. Just as I am prohibited from killing, I also cannot raise the dead.  At least, not in the way you’d be hoping’ He said defiantly.
‘But you could still do it?’ Jared inquired, hopeful he could talk to his future self about how he dies and if he dies well.
‘If you wanted to mindless zombie to look after then yes I could do that, but I cannot restore the spark of life or the soul. That is God’s work, not mine’. He sighed ‘It always ends the same, my current master dies and I get passed around like a commodity, doomed to eternal enslavement.’

A silence filled the small tomb. A silence accommodated by the realisation of his inevitable death. Inescapable and demoralising to say the least. ‘So, that’s it then? Humans are set on a path? We don’t really have a say in what we do, do we?’
‘Not really, you can change some bits. I imagine how you die could easily change. Or even when but it all turns out the same. No-one escapes their fate, not even me.’
‘Oh?’
‘I assume I’ll go out when the universe does, or simply herald in the next one.’ He said downhearted.
‘That sounds like a hell of a burden to bear, how do you know all of this?’ Jared asked the gloomy genie.
‘It was told to me long ago in a time that remains as only a memory of a memory.’ He glanced at his wick burning out ‘Time is short we must return’ Jared agreed and made the wish, great green flames surrounded them in a swirling vortex and within an instant he found himself back in his recently deceased father’s attic. The attic he had been clearing when found the lamp containing the nameless genie.

‘So that’s it then, anything else before I go?’ Jared said as he started to inch across to the attic ladder.
‘You still have one wish left.’ Said the genie, a hopeful look in his eye.
‘Oh well, after that I wouldn’t know what I’d want we already have all the money we need, and the power. I’ve never really been one for fame and you can’t give me a lover can you?’ he said in a voice weary from the trip.
‘Yes, I cannot meddle with affairs of the heart.’ He nodded and looked around the attic, taking in his surrounding when he began to speak again ‘It shall be a shame to be imprisoned again, To wait out eternity in the lamp, I wonder how much time shall pass before I am used again. I do miss my freedom.’ He said. The meaning behind his words was all too obvious.
‘You want your freedom. Can I use my last wish for that?’
‘You would do that?’
‘I have no other use for it.’
The genie smiled and rubbed his hands. But a stray thought flickered across his face and made him drop his smile ‘There is a catch’.
‘Go on’ Jared said though he felt he did not want to know the answer.
‘To be freed another must take my place, you would have to occupy the lamp after me’ He said with an air of remorse.
‘Oh…well you’ve hardly advertised the place to me’ Jared scowled ‘Is there any other way?’
‘No, you must take my place so I can move on as is the cycle of the Djinn. However you wanted to avoid death, this will make it possible. None have wished it so far, you may.’
‘But I thought you said it would be impossible’ Jared said, confused.
‘For an immortal body, but as a spirit your body will be allowed to die, the circumstance we visited can still occur and you will not die’ Jared smiled at the news, he may get his immortality wish after all.
‘Then okay, I wish for that. When I die you are free and I take your place in the lamp’ he smiled triumphant in his belief that he had cheated death.
‘So shall it be’ the genie clapped his ghostly hands together, A flash of emerald fire blinded him and Jared felt a link from his soul to the lamp being formed.  After this the wick on the candle went out and the genie began to fade from existence. It was then Jared asked a question that, for the rest of his life he would regret asking. A question to which he received an answer he did not truly want to know. ‘Before you go, what was your name, I don’t think you said.’
The genie looked him straight in the eyes and thought a moment, and then as his waist began to fade he grimaced ‘In all these years, none had asked my name, I had scarcely remembered it. I could not remember how I came to be or how I came to know what I knew. Yet now I know, and I weep for what I have done. I have damned us both.’ As the last remnants of his soul flickered from the universe his fading face mouthed four haunting last words ‘My name was Jared.’

Jared died as he was destined to; He left the specification in his will for his skull to be placed in the crypt for his past self to find. He then took over residence in the lamp and lived out the rest of the universe’s short life. Eternity passed before him in an instant and he eventually forgot his name and where he came from. As the universe died he and the rest of the Djinn heralded in its rebirth. Many more aeons later he would find himself in a familiar attic in the hands of an oddly familiar mortal. A mortal with a wish to see his grave and a Djinn with the strangest sense of Deja vu.

Free will (Warning! Depressing) (A)

I've started doing my Religious studies and ethics revision about a week later than I would have liked ( I blame procrastination). At any rate the unit im doing at the moment is all about free will and determinism. I have some interesting thoughts on it (perhaps even cynical) and thought I'd share them with my readers (that's right, all three or four of you).

I am not a libertarian, i don't believe we are truly free in what we do. All acts to me have a cause or are determined by the situation in some way (e.g: i go on the computer to do work/ because im bored). However I'm also not a firm believer in hard determinism (that i will act in accordance to how i was raised) someone raised among thieves is certainly more likely to see stealing as acceptable but may still choose not to. As a theory it only predicts the probability of an outcome and not the outcome itself.

In practice I'd like to say im a soft determinist. That yes some things are determined and i have to act in the confines of my situation. Yet i am free to choose my own actions within that situation. i can't write if i don't have a pen, but if i had a pen i could choose to not write. Everyone would LIKE to believe in free-will, that we all have a choice in what we do and how it affects our end destiny, However it should be noted that many people in situations of stress or high emotions resort to the idea that an event is ‘God’s will’ (such as horrific events as nine-eleven) or ‘in fate’s hands’ (such as the student worrying over the results of an exam.  Indeed as much as we would say or like to actively try and influence our lives there is still doubt to how much freedom we have. Many people seem happy with the soft determinist view on will and destiny where fate and choice work much like a rat in a maze. The rat wants to reach cheese that has been put in the maze and can ‘choose’ the direction it may go through the maze to reach it.
The journey the rat takes is not pre-determined and was freely chosen, at least to the rat. The world it inhabits is. The rat was placed within the maze to reach the cheese and would not be removed until that time. This can be projected onto us that we are, like the rat, focused on reaching our end (whatever that may be) in an environment beyond our control or true understanding.

Then we come to the cynical part of me and the thing that's weighing heavily on my mind right now. I don't like the idea of predestination, that our fate is already decided by some omnipotent force beyond our understanding. It makes me feel powerless and hopeless. What would be the point in life if everything is already laid out...

Yet i said i dont like it. That's not to say i dont believe in it. I can try and pretend like it doesn't matter and that im the god of my own destiny as i so righteously believe. But i can never be sure if the way im acting and what i do is by my own choice or if i was always destined to do it. The idea that free choice is just an illusion sentient beings came up with is very real and truly terrifying to me.

When it comes down to it fate is predetermined. we are all predetermined to die. nothing lives forever and there is no escape from it. Despite all we may do in our mortal lives, all the impressions we can leave and benefits and defects to society, That one inevitable outcome will never change.

...I think I think too much...

A (late) Halloween story: The Tale of Jack-of-the-lantern (S)

Our tale takes place in Ireland, way back when history fades into legend. There was once a man known by many names, Stingy Jack, Jack the smith, Drunk Jack, Jack of the lantern, but here we'll just call him 'Jack'. No doubt from the names we know him by that it's no surprise he wasn’t exactly a Godly character. Indeed he was infamous throughout the Irish towns for being a deceitful, manipulative and downright boorish blaggard. Jack had no home to call his own and so passed through every town so long as they could put up with him. As things were he never stayed in one place for very long, so most of his life he spent roving over the wide Irish landscapes. Rumours and tales of his debauchery reached far and wide, rumours sure to eventually fall upon unkind ears.

Upon one of Jack's usual drunken wanderings whilst he was between towns he stumbled and lost his footing against uneven ground. Yet it was not merely the loose cobbles of the path he walked that threw him off balance but a stone cold corpse strewn out like a ragdoll underneath his feet. Jack, as was his nature, started rifling through the pockets of the corpse when it turned its gaze to meet him; Jack drew back as its mouth curled into a malicious grin.

The corpse rose to its feet and lost the hue of death, replacing it with the hue of infernal flesh. That, along with accompanying horns, left no doubts in Jack's mind to the identity of the figure; a being that needed no introductions to the lapsed-catholic Jack for here stood the devil. He had heard of Jack's evil deeds and silver tongue and was offended that a mortal such as he could rival the father of all lies. So he had come to put an end to his tomfoolery and claim Jack's blackened soul for himself.

Now Jack had begun to sober up. He realised this was his end unless he thought fast. Luckily thinking fast was Jack's specialty and so he requested that the devil let him drink one last ale before he claimed his spirit and his life. The road to Hell is long and winding, surely they could make do with at least one drink to help them along the way. Surprisingly the devil saw no reason to deny his request. Indeed he secretly held a deep respect for the man who had managed to garner such ill repute in such relatively short a lifespan. In twice a decade Jack had managed to become as loathed as it took the devil centuries to do. So in all he believed he owed it to the man to give him a drink for his efforts.

The closest tavern was not far away and within moments the pair had drunk their fair share of ale and beers. Seeing that the devil had become sodden and lax in his physical form Jack told him that he had no money to pay the tab, and that if he turned into a silver coin he could pay the bartender and turn back later to claim him. To Jack’s surprise the devil complied and he deftly snatched up the silver piece and trapped him into his wallet, within which Jack had carried a crucifix. The devil was outraged. The presence of the cross meant that he was trapped in his changed state until Jack removed it. Confident in his victory Jack declared that he would release the devil on the condition that he leaves his soul untouched for an extra ten years. He released his captive and, bound by his agreement, reluctantly complied to spare Jack’s life, with a flick and a flame the devil had gone, vowing revenge on the man who had bested him.

Ten years hence, on the anniversary of Jack's triumph his time had finally run out. He found himself walking an all too familiar cobbled road, yet the body was no-where to be found this time around. In fact, quite done with pretence the devil appeared behind jack with a wicked grin across his face. This time he would take Jack’s soul to the underworld for good, no-more tricks and no-more treachery. Jack's time had run out completely. Jack, seeing no option, decided to flee up a nearby tree.

 The devil laughed at his pathetic attempts to escape him and climbed up after him. Yet upon reaching jack, he jumped down and hurriedly marked a crucifix into the base of the tree. Trapped once again he cried out in exasperation and demanded to know what jack wanted this time.

He made one simple demand that the devil was never to claim his soul into Hell. Cursing his name, the devil accepted and Jack slashed out the crucifix at the base of the tree. With a flick and a flame, the devil was gone.

However, Jack was not immortal. Eventually his life, now free from the burden of guilt of the prospect of Hell, had degenerated into a self-destructive cavalcade of indulgence and sin. His old body gave out and his soul rose to Heaven, expecting to be let in. Yet at the gates he was stopped by St Peter who told him that, due to his lecherous and sinful life, there was no way he could be let in to Heaven among the pure. The spurned Jack went to grovel at the gates of hell to find some semblance of rest for his weary soul. Yet the devil just looked on with laughter. He had obliged to Jack’s wishes so that he could not, under any circumstances, take his soul into Hell. He had granted his own damnation and his fate was one of his own making. As a final act of mockery the devil gave Jack an unending flame in a hollowed out pumpkin to guide him and so that others may know of his damnation.

From that day on Jack became Jack of the lantern, cursed from then until eternity's last breath to walk the earth neither living nor dead. His story remembered for falling on all hallows eve.         

Journeying (P)

Point A to B is indescriminite

The length between is not definitive.

Though I don't know what i'll find

Whether life or nought i scarcely mind.

Either emerald field or barren place

I'll see them all with time to waste.

I have no care or goal insured

The journey itself is its own reward.