10-17-2018, 03:59 PM
"Yes." A low rumble of thunder punctuated the word, kind enough not to interrupt. Rain pattered over his shell jacket, sliding down his sleeves until it dripped down his fingertips. He could see Near now - couldn't see him before, not through the streaked windows, but he knew Near was there.
Then again, it was difficult, that word, 'know'. For example, did he 'know' the sun was going to come up tomorrow? He did not. The likelihood that the sun would not come up was simply so infinitesimally small as to make the event appear certain. Did he 'know' that Near Farr had been sitting in the drawing room, drunk, listening to the moans and creakings of the old house? He did, but not in any manner of the typical human senses, not even prediction. Jude 'knew' things that were essentially unknowable, things outside his experience, things that appeared in his mind like he'd read them in a book or heard them over the radio or seen them on television, and he'd forgotten for a while, and then suddenly recalled. Sometimes he 'knew' things because he had 'done' them, though his linear experience of time implied that he had not, for example, witnessed the human lamps of Nero's gardens.
Maybe the gun was loaded. Maybe Near would shoot him, perhaps kill him. Jude had never been shot before, so he was not confident he could survive it. All that kept him from fear was that odd sense of knowing - that if he was going to die here, he would have guessed it already, somehow. It seemed miserably anticlimactic to die on Near Farr's lawn.
"It's cold out here." He offered the prompt the way a man might bow at the beginning of a formal dance with a lady: the gesture had a predetermined response, known to all with good manners. Secrets, code words, symbols - manners was all these things, and hopefully the Reaches, if not Near himself, had not forgotten.
Then again, it was difficult, that word, 'know'. For example, did he 'know' the sun was going to come up tomorrow? He did not. The likelihood that the sun would not come up was simply so infinitesimally small as to make the event appear certain. Did he 'know' that Near Farr had been sitting in the drawing room, drunk, listening to the moans and creakings of the old house? He did, but not in any manner of the typical human senses, not even prediction. Jude 'knew' things that were essentially unknowable, things outside his experience, things that appeared in his mind like he'd read them in a book or heard them over the radio or seen them on television, and he'd forgotten for a while, and then suddenly recalled. Sometimes he 'knew' things because he had 'done' them, though his linear experience of time implied that he had not, for example, witnessed the human lamps of Nero's gardens.
Maybe the gun was loaded. Maybe Near would shoot him, perhaps kill him. Jude had never been shot before, so he was not confident he could survive it. All that kept him from fear was that odd sense of knowing - that if he was going to die here, he would have guessed it already, somehow. It seemed miserably anticlimactic to die on Near Farr's lawn.
"It's cold out here." He offered the prompt the way a man might bow at the beginning of a formal dance with a lady: the gesture had a predetermined response, known to all with good manners. Secrets, code words, symbols - manners was all these things, and hopefully the Reaches, if not Near himself, had not forgotten.