April 15th. (I think)
I have been taken by some mysterious organization. I blame myself for letting my guard down in such a weakened state. The last battle with Vash drained my energy and dulled my senses, or else they would have never even got near me.
They call themselves the Muse Assignment and Relocation System, or MARS. They said they had been waiting for me and put me in this room, to wait for their boss apparently. I will write more later, I am too tired now.
Later
Not for their boss, but a clean-up crew. I have just finished being scrubbed, shaved, and trimmed within an inch of my life and once again have my clean countenance. It feels rather good after the grit of the desert. Once I was dressed in a shirt and pants reminiscent of my childhood outfit, a women approximately 40 years old entered my cell. I call it a cell as the window is locked and I have not been allowed out of it yet. Anyway, I recognized her as the woman who gave me this journal. She was short and squat with a round face and rather frizzy hair. Her eyes were hidden between a pair of rather thick glasses. She introduced herself as Iris and sat down by the window.
“I’m so glad we found you when we did, Knives. We were starting to worry you’d be late.”
“Late for what?” I thought, but remained silent.
“You’ve had a long journey I’m sure,” she said kindly. “So I will let you sleep. I promise you have nothing to be afraid of while you wait to see the President. If you need anything, let your attendant know.”
Attendant? The man who is my “attendant” is nothing more than a prison guard in blue scrubs. Still, it is quiet here. I’m sure there will be no harm in letting myself rest.
April 17,
Well life has just got weirder, which is quite a stunt considering what I’ve experienced the past few years…
This morning I was roused out of my bored stupor to go meet this man they call the President. I was not forced as I expected to be, but simply told to follow Iris. I complied, not to be agreeable, but simply because I wanted to get out of that room.
She led me down a few hallways and down a flight of stairs into a room, that reminded me somewhat of my computer room. Here too, machines whirred and the gentle glow of a computer monitor bleached the faces of the occupants. The models were much different from what I normally worked with, but still obviously computers.
A tall, skinny man with a face that looked like it had been closed in a door ambled up to us. I was somewhat surprised and repulsed to find out he was the President everyone was talking about. He looked a bit tweedy to me…
“Naughty trick with that teleportation, young man,” he chortled, pumping my right arm vigorously. “We knew where you were until you pulled that little stunt! You put us behind schedule!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked tiredly, pulling my hand out of his grip. He grinned and tapped the side of his nose.
“Well your role has ended right? You have no purpose now, it’s been taking from you, right?”
I looked at him blankly. This man had a few screws lose.
“Happens all the time,” he continued, waving a hand airily. “All these people, their stories over. They don’t have a use anymore, or at least they don’t think they do. But they’re wrong! They do have a purpose! That’s why I founded MARS!”
I ran a hand through my hair, only half listening.
“I know it’s a shock, having your story end, but you can still have a purpose! If you’ll just look over here…”
“Listen,” I said irritably. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. My ‘story’ or whatever you want to call it, is not over. I may be low on power, but I’m still alive and have every intent to remain that way. So if you’d give me back my clothes, I would like to be on my way.”
“Ah, but what are you going to do now?” asked the President triumphantly. I revived my death glare just for him. He seemed relatively unfazed, though his smile did shrink slightly.
“Just here me out Mr. Millions. Just listen to what I say and look at what I show you, and then you’ll be free to do what you wish!”
After a moment I sighed and shrugged. What harm could come from it, right? Listen, say no to whatever they wanted me to do, and go on my way.
“Fine, I’m listening.”
“Excellent! Now, everywhere there are people in trouble right?”
I nodded.
“Right! Now there are all different kinds of trouble. There is the classic kind that everyone thinks of, like car wrecks, burning homes, burglaries, debts, lawyers… But what people often don’t think of are that people can be in trouble emotionally. They don’t realize it can be extremely damaging to the soul, even if nobody is aware of it.”
Waiting to see his point.
“Now a lot of people have ways of getting rid of this emotional pain. They talk to family, friends, therapists and the suchlike. But some people don’t have anyone at all! They go through life, surrounded by people and yet being completely alone because there is no one they can tell everything to. And I mean everything! They might tell their parents one thing, their sister or brother another, and their friends something else, but they have no one who understands everything, knows the entire picture and can help them!”
Still waiting for the point…
“That’s what MARS is for! You see, we find…. people… and match them to those who are in trouble! These people we choose are called muses. They live side-by-side with their hosts, as you might call them, helping them through hard times, befriending them, giving them inspiration when they need it and so on!”
The President looked at me expectantly, his eyes gleaming with boyish triumph. I stared back at him silently. When a certain amount of time elapsed without me speaking or blinking, the President sighed slightly.
“The point is, you’re needed. As a muse.”
“To comfort someone.”
“Exactly!”
“Can’t you just get the person a dog or cat or something?”
“They need human compassion and comfort.”
I snorted through my nose.
“Well then you have the wrong person. I’m neither human nor compassionate.”
The President sighed again.
“Come with me please…”
He led me down a row of computers and stopped in front of a monitor.
“Look,” he said pointing to the screen.
I rolled my eyes and looked down, humoring him. A window on the screen showed what seemed to be a security camera feed. After a moment or two, I realized that it showed a small boy, sitting on his bed. He was too thin and his arms were covered with bruises. He seemed to be crying bitterly, but trying to muffle the sound. I frowed. The President hit a key and another window came up. This one showed an elderly woman in a wheelchair, staring blankly out a window. Another click, another window.
The next ten minutes, the President showed me about 15 different people. Some of them seemed relatively normal, working or playing, while others were crying silently or even screaming out their pain. The one thing they all had the same were their eyes. Deep in their eyes were a dullness of those carrying a burden of some sort.
With a sigh, I sat down heavily in a chair. “Shoot,” I muttered into my hand. The President stood silently by my shoulder. I gazed moodily at the floor, thinking.
“They need people like you,” he said quietly.
I raised my eyes to him glaring slightly.
“You are taking advantage of my mental state right now,” I frowned.
He shook his head.
“There’s someone who truly needs you, Millions. We already have your host picked out, if you’ll just say yes.”
“You do, do you,” I frowned, rubbing my temples with a thumb and forefinger. “Show me…”
“Muses aren’t supposed to see their hosts before-“
“Show me, or I’ll say no right now,” I snapped, pulling my hand away from my face.
The President clicked his teeth together, then slowly nodded.
“Yes… Okay… Yes all right…”
A few quick key strokes pulled a new window onto the screen, completely filling it. I leaned forward.
It was a girl, laying silently on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She looked to be about 20, with dark hair and very pale skin. It was night wherever where she was. Moonlight revealed that there were tears coursing slowly down her cheeks and being absorbed by her pillows. Her expression was completely blank, but I could see her hands clenching the blankets.
I watched her for a minute or two, then closed the window.
“And why would she be my host?” I asked shortly, leaning back in the chair. The President shook his head.
“You’d find out soon enough. Will you do it?”
“I’ll think about it.”
So now, I’m back in the room, thinking of what I was shown and told today. I had seen much more impressive displays of anguish, but for some reason the image of that girl crying quietly alone has stuck itself in my head. Time to make a decision, I suppose.
April 19th
Went to see the President today. I just told him one thing.
I leave the 25th.
April 25th
Well that was a long day... Actually I don't even know if it's been a day, the time here is different from Gunsmoke. Like extreme time zones or something... I'm tired either way, but I'm writing this all down before I forget details.
I woke up much earlier than was necessary. That image of the crying girl has been haunting me all week. I can only hope that will stop now that I'm here.
Anyway, Iris came later to suit me up. I was rather pleased when she gave me an outfit that was almost exactly the same as the one I had in July. I had always liked that one. The horny old bat didn't leave the room while I got changed, but at least she faced the wall.... If I find out later she had mirrors in her glasses or something, I swear I'll strangle her with a towel or blanket or whatever's handy. I’m not too picky.
After I got changed, she prodded me down the hall to a room that I had never been in. It looked like a large conference room with a Sci-fi machine sort of thing on the far wall. More lights and knobs than were probably healthy.
The President waved cheerfully at me.
"Ready?"
"Yeah, whatever. Strap me in, or what ever it is you people do. What's that phrase? Beam me up, Scotty?"
He ignored my sarcastic tone and tossed me a small box.
"Here you'll need this."
I caught it one-handed and flipped it open. A pair of thin silver rings shined gently up at me."
"Oh, so I get to marry her too. Peachy."
"Haha, you're such a joker Millions! No, give those to her. One verifies that you're her muse and bonds you to her for however long she need you."
"And the other one?"
"A tracking device. You'll be able to find her anywhere and know generally what she's feeling."
“Couldn’t you have put both in one?”
“We do, but that’s the last of an old model. It works fine, don’t worry.”
"Great," I sighed and jammed the box in my pocket. "Any other pearls of wisdom I should know?"
"Just remember what I've told you over the past week and you'll do great."
"Fine."
Iris nudged me into the proper position on the gleaming monstrosity and backed away.
"Ready Millions?"
"Yeah."
The President saluted at me and pressed a button with obvious enjoyment. I rolled my eyes as a blue light surrounded me. A faint tingling filled my limbs, like they were waking up. After only a second or two, the blue light faded away, dumping me in a very very dark room. I blinked rapidly, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the sudden light change.
I had been neatly deposited in the room that I had seen on the computer screen. A quick check assured me that I still had all my limbs. Once that had been resolved, I looked over at the bed. She was probably there.
Sure enough, there was a mound in the middle of the bed. Carefully, I stepped around a pile of laundry and edged up to the bed. Slowly, I reached out a hand and pulled the thin blanket away from the pillows at the foot of the bed. A small mass of slightly damp hair tumbled out, spilling across the pillows. The faint smell of shampoo wafted up to meet me.
And there she was. She was sleeping on her stomach, clutching the pillow to her. Her head was turned to the left, her lips parted lightly, bangs laying across her forehead and tickling her nose slightly. One hand was clenched slightly and held near her mouth. Her long eye-lashes cast slight shadows on her cheeks as her back rose from an inhale. Her breathing sounded slightly ragged, not like a snore, more like there was something in her lungs.
Very carefully, I sat down on the edge of the bed a brushed the hair out of her face.
"Keria..." I called softly, shaking her shoulder gently. "Hey, wakey wakey..."
With a muffled groan, she rolled over onto her back and blinked sleepily up at me.
"Whaa?"
"Hi."
"Uh... hi? Can I go back t-t-to sleep?"
The last two words disolved into a yawn. She was probably too sleepy to realize what exactly was happening.
"No, you can't. My name is-"
"Knives, I know. I know what your name is by now..."
I blinked rapidly.
"What? How do you...?"
She yawned again.
"I've dreamed you enough times to know you when you show up in another dream...night night..."
"Hey wait!"
"Whaaa....M'tiiiired....."
I pulled the rings out of my pocket.
"Put these on."
A soft snore informed me that she had fallen asleep again. I sighed and looked around. A necklace with no charm swung gently on her cork-board. After a moment’s contemplation, I took it down and strung the rings on it. A small amount of maneuvering and I managed to safely put it on her. As I was pulling back, she murmured sleepily and took hold of my hand.
"Knives..."
This was too weird.... I hastily pulled my hand out of her grip and stood up. I'll sleep on the floor near the bed...
