Sam has introduced me to our carriage driver, Charlie. He is a man with wide shoulders and a barrel chest. He has the darkest skin tone of anyone I've ever met. His teeth are so white they nearly sparkle when he smiles, which is often. He is a direct counterpart to the dour Sam. If opposites attract, then it is no wonder they are such fast friends.
Charlie drives a two-horse team hitched to a rusty old car that seems to be held together with wishes and duct tape. It bears the text "Cutlass era" across the trunk. We have filled the trunk and most of the back seat with supplies for our journey, so we ride in the front. Sam graciously lets me take the seat with the still-intact seatbelt while he braves the rough roads ahead without protection.
I am given to understand these contraptions were once called "horseless carriages." If I try, I can almost imagine them trundling through the once-whole roads that are now cracked and pitted. The careful observer will note that they are not constructed with horses in mind. The contraption must be cut nearly in half in order to be adapted for carriage use.
Charlie is originally from Gardin, a town few day's travel to the west of here. Gardin once marked the border of a place called "Yellow Stone" which was a park of some sort. Now the mountains run rampant with animals touched by Jack Frost.
The first winter snowfall was today. We will take shelter until daybreak.
Showing posts with label the beginning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the beginning. Show all posts
Friday, August 17, 2012
October 3rd, 2083: Children of Truthspeaker
Last night I decided to make Sam the first victim of my unquenchable curiosity. We sat in the front parlor of the boarding house, a cup of Mrs. Grow's finest coffee at our sides. He looked nervous when I pulled out my notebook, but agreed to answer my questions. I started with a simple one: "What are the Children of Truthspeaker?"
Sam snorted and gulped down a healthy swallow of his drink. "People. Not demons like some claim. We're just people trying to survive like anyone else." Silver flashed as he poured a dollop of some rich brown liquid in his cup, then tucked his flask back into his vest.
"Not very many people know about the Children. How did they start?"
"Well," Sam leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach, stretching his legs out before him. "Here's what I was told growing up. The world was full of vice and no one knew what shame was any more. 'Machines took the place of morality,' the storytellers said. I don't know about that. Supposedly parents were able to pick their children from a book, like stitching together a quilt. Scraps of blonde hair stitched to blue eyes hemmed with a genius intellect and the beauty of angels. A giant bullet that could strike someone on a different continent.
"Then the sickness came and wiped the sinners from the earth. 'A punishment from God,' the storytellers said. If God's so hell-bent on punishment, why didn't he take away the machines instead of killing so many people?" Sam flashed me a cocky grin. "Storytellers couldn't answer that one."
"So the Children thought the Great Plague was punishment from God?" Sam was surprisingly lyrical for all his reluctance to speak. I think I am not the only one who is curious to find out the real truth of the world today.
"As the funeral pyres burned, Kenneth Truthspeaker had a vision from God. 'Machines were the source of the sickness,' he said. His word spread and people gathered from miles around to join the Children of Truthspeaker-"
"But how did his message reach the survivors if not through the leftover technology he hated so much?" I pointed out.
Sam shrugged. "Don't rightly now about that one. But the Children came to him anyway. We stay separate from the rest of the world. Certain folks do certain jobs. The Storyteller tells stories, the Elders kind of oversee everything, Traders are the go-between for the Children and the outside world. They scavenge abandoned towns for goods they can trade for whatever the Children need."
"So how are these roles decided? Why did you become a Trader and not a Storyteller? You certainly have the knack for it."
Sam's ears turned a little bit red at my compliment. How cute. "Children don't let you take on a trade until you've had a kid. There are still kids lost to the sickness, no matter how much the Children separate themselves from the evil machinery. The only exception are Traders. Traders can't have kids, ever. They're contaminated by the machines and their flesh is weak."
"You're saying that the Great Plague still strikes Children, despite their self-imposed isolation?" Sam nodded. "How do they keep the family lines separate to prevent inbreeding?"
"The Children will welcome outsiders that want to be one of the clan. That's what my parents did. Got fed up with life outside and Dad worked with Traders before."
"What do you mean a Trader's flesh is weak?"
At this a pained look crossed Sam's face. He rose to his feet and shoved his hat on his head. "I'm going to go make sure everything's ready to go tomorrow." He ignored my apologies and strode out the door, letting it bang shut behind him. Not the most successful interview. Hopefully I will learn to do better in the future.
Sam snorted and gulped down a healthy swallow of his drink. "People. Not demons like some claim. We're just people trying to survive like anyone else." Silver flashed as he poured a dollop of some rich brown liquid in his cup, then tucked his flask back into his vest.
"Not very many people know about the Children. How did they start?"
"Well," Sam leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach, stretching his legs out before him. "Here's what I was told growing up. The world was full of vice and no one knew what shame was any more. 'Machines took the place of morality,' the storytellers said. I don't know about that. Supposedly parents were able to pick their children from a book, like stitching together a quilt. Scraps of blonde hair stitched to blue eyes hemmed with a genius intellect and the beauty of angels. A giant bullet that could strike someone on a different continent.
"Then the sickness came and wiped the sinners from the earth. 'A punishment from God,' the storytellers said. If God's so hell-bent on punishment, why didn't he take away the machines instead of killing so many people?" Sam flashed me a cocky grin. "Storytellers couldn't answer that one."
"So the Children thought the Great Plague was punishment from God?" Sam was surprisingly lyrical for all his reluctance to speak. I think I am not the only one who is curious to find out the real truth of the world today.
"As the funeral pyres burned, Kenneth Truthspeaker had a vision from God. 'Machines were the source of the sickness,' he said. His word spread and people gathered from miles around to join the Children of Truthspeaker-"
"But how did his message reach the survivors if not through the leftover technology he hated so much?" I pointed out.
Sam shrugged. "Don't rightly now about that one. But the Children came to him anyway. We stay separate from the rest of the world. Certain folks do certain jobs. The Storyteller tells stories, the Elders kind of oversee everything, Traders are the go-between for the Children and the outside world. They scavenge abandoned towns for goods they can trade for whatever the Children need."
"So how are these roles decided? Why did you become a Trader and not a Storyteller? You certainly have the knack for it."
Sam's ears turned a little bit red at my compliment. How cute. "Children don't let you take on a trade until you've had a kid. There are still kids lost to the sickness, no matter how much the Children separate themselves from the evil machinery. The only exception are Traders. Traders can't have kids, ever. They're contaminated by the machines and their flesh is weak."
"You're saying that the Great Plague still strikes Children, despite their self-imposed isolation?" Sam nodded. "How do they keep the family lines separate to prevent inbreeding?"
"The Children will welcome outsiders that want to be one of the clan. That's what my parents did. Got fed up with life outside and Dad worked with Traders before."
"What do you mean a Trader's flesh is weak?"
At this a pained look crossed Sam's face. He rose to his feet and shoved his hat on his head. "I'm going to go make sure everything's ready to go tomorrow." He ignored my apologies and strode out the door, letting it bang shut behind him. Not the most successful interview. Hopefully I will learn to do better in the future.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
October 3rd, 2083: The Deal
It begins like this: I made a deal.
My father only agreed to finance my journey if I returned and let him sell the fruits of my labor to the adventurous. The first thing I bought with the money he gave me was an escort.
Sam Loomis is an average-sized man, with a face that is long and narrow like a fox. He has dark brown hair and intense eyes. His build is slight, but you cannot judge him by that fact alone. The man can shoot the eye out of a squirrel at a hundred paces. He is the Children's best scavenger.
Sam comes to me at a bargain price for all his gifts. I almost wonder why the Children let me have him for so little. But I don't like to look a gift horse in the mouth. He buys a week's worth of supplies. That will be enough to see us out of the Children's camp and into Miles City. So long as I send regular updates to my father, I will have a blank check for my needs.
A strange phrase, blank check. One of those phrases that comes from before the Great Plague. It is my goal to uncover more about the events that led to the Great Plague and its aftermath. I also want to find out more about the strange world we live in.
For example, the Children of Truth. How do they survive in the midst of the Cold Territory? The other towns in the area shun the Children, they think them cursed. Yet Sam seems normal enough, if tight-lipped. Still, I think he will be an excellent escort. He knows of a carriage driver who will take us to Miles City, and perhaps even as far as Once Dakota. On the way I will record what I know so far of the Great Plague. If Sam is willing, I will ask him to describe more of life as a Child of Truth.
So much information is out there to be had. We are spread out into tiny communities doing our best to survive against a hostile world. Hopefully this journal will work to spread knowledge and help us survive and even overcome the tragedy that has befallen us.
My father only agreed to finance my journey if I returned and let him sell the fruits of my labor to the adventurous. The first thing I bought with the money he gave me was an escort.
Sam Loomis is an average-sized man, with a face that is long and narrow like a fox. He has dark brown hair and intense eyes. His build is slight, but you cannot judge him by that fact alone. The man can shoot the eye out of a squirrel at a hundred paces. He is the Children's best scavenger.
Sam comes to me at a bargain price for all his gifts. I almost wonder why the Children let me have him for so little. But I don't like to look a gift horse in the mouth. He buys a week's worth of supplies. That will be enough to see us out of the Children's camp and into Miles City. So long as I send regular updates to my father, I will have a blank check for my needs.
A strange phrase, blank check. One of those phrases that comes from before the Great Plague. It is my goal to uncover more about the events that led to the Great Plague and its aftermath. I also want to find out more about the strange world we live in.
For example, the Children of Truth. How do they survive in the midst of the Cold Territory? The other towns in the area shun the Children, they think them cursed. Yet Sam seems normal enough, if tight-lipped. Still, I think he will be an excellent escort. He knows of a carriage driver who will take us to Miles City, and perhaps even as far as Once Dakota. On the way I will record what I know so far of the Great Plague. If Sam is willing, I will ask him to describe more of life as a Child of Truth.
So much information is out there to be had. We are spread out into tiny communities doing our best to survive against a hostile world. Hopefully this journal will work to spread knowledge and help us survive and even overcome the tragedy that has befallen us.
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