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Chapter 33
The moment Dohan woke up, he remembered the incredible situation of the night before.
("Justin Timberlake admitted he wears platform shoes! I still can't believe it!")
He panicked, rushed up from his uncomfortable sleeping position - and his muscles protested with pain.
(The author wrote "protests with pain" here and fixed it seven years later. Not that it helped much!)
He looked out through the portholes and front windshields of the ship, and saw the plateau and the canyon before him, bathing in sharp sunlight.
(They cut themselves badly.)
The cockpit was quite warm, which meant that he had allowed the craft to stand out in the open during the entire morning. Completely undefended!
(Anyone could have brought shampoo and water bottles on board!)
Dohan scrambled for the startup controls, then managed to calm himself. If the Lepers truly had wanted to kill him, the craft would have been destroyed while he slept.
(Or they could have coated it in mustard and told Rosie O'Donnell it was a giant hot dog.)
Darc had been truthful, and Dohan had mistrusted him again. It was a most dishonorable behavior.
(And a most dishonorable novel.)
While he ate some of his rations, Dohan brooded over what to say to Darc next. Would Darc help him get his beloved Meijji now?
(Or was the Meijji Period forever lost in Japanese history?)
His mind had finally settled on the question of his friend's identity: Darc was not quite the reincarnated King, but as close to it as a human could possibly become.
(So's every fifth guy in Vegas.)
Azuch Fache, high-priestess Inu and the others were wrong: Darc could not be defined by the established norms of society.
(You can only judge him by the standards of a crazed homeless person!)
Above all, one could not claim that Darc was an impostor; he was always truly himself.
(Which isn't saying much.)
Strange, Dohan reflected, how Darc seemed so virtuous and honorable, though he spoke in a low tongue and mingled effortlessly with outcasts and commoners.
(Everybody now: MESSIAH SUBTEXT!!)
Darc's "Sir" title was a mere formality and meant nothing even to him - all that counted to Darc was his actions and his wisdom. Or perhaps this was a sign of extreme virtue, a model behavior? Should the nobility rethink its standards of excellence?
(Should the nobility pull its collective head out of its collective backside?)
Dohan was beginning to question the foundations of his entire upbringing. He looked out the windshield, and spotted a couple of figures approaching from the plateau's edge. Cloaked Lepers, carrying the flag with their dreaded symbol.
("Uh-oh. Furries!")
And among them came Darc and the woman Shara, wearing wide straw hats.
(Chewing on straws. Drinking from straws. Straw madness! Madness!)
The warrior from Castilia swallowed; his legs felt weak.
("This always happens when I think of Victoria Silvstedt!")
In broad daylight, would he finally see a Leper's hideous countenance?
(Or would the producer of 24 remain hidden in shadow?)
("I want my new garage built this wide.")
He waved at the cockpit, then walked around to the rear port. The port opened, but the ramp did not come down.
They saw each other, and smiled.
("Yo, Each Other! What's up, my man?")
"Dohan? Stay where you are! Everything's okay! I can't touch you, until the new inoculation is finished. You'll have to wait at least a few hours more. And then you must inject it yourself - then wait a few days, before it is safe for any of us to touch you.
("But apart from that, everything's okay!")
"I hope you have enough food and water! There is a well nearby, where you can get fresh water - but you must boil it first, as a precaution."
("Other than that, there's no reason for concern!")
Dohan accepted the news, and replied: "I have another problem, Darc. If I leave the craft in this hot sun for too long, the fuel will start to expand. There is a risk of explosive leaks. I need to cover the craft with something cold - a wet canvas will do, but - as you said, I have not taken that 'inoculation' yet. Could the... Lepers aid us?"
(Something cold... will Hillary's smile do?)
The Lepers' language was a bit too different from Dohan's nobleman tongue; Darc had to explain the request to Claw.
("Me come in big flying machine! Need cover for metal bird!")
It took the villagers but an hour to arrange for a huge mass of carpets and blankets to be carried up to the plateau, then knotted together.
(... into a beautiful communal quilt.)
With some ropes and a handful of men, the result was then draped over the bulk of the Sunray and soaked with water.
(Ropes, men, draped and soaked with water... are they shooting the sequel to 300?)
Dohan noted with a sigh of relief, that the temperature inside began to sink.
(Global warming! Defeated! By a couple of blankets!)
With that problem solved, Dohan asked for a little privacy.
("A little privacy, if you please? I just got the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue!")
He was left alone, and could get to work checking the engines of the Sunray. The air intakes and exhaust pipes had adjustable valves - Dohan controlled that they were safely shut, so that no sand was allowed to get in and ruin the jet tubes.
He observed flocks of strange long-necked birds, circling in the sky above. For some reason, the sight of the birds made him uneasy.
(Because they looked exactly like vultures?)
And he thought defiantly: I cheated you again!
(And he stumbled, fell off a cliff and died. The End.)
His work proved to be easier than he had expected.
(Thanks to the handy booklet he found: How To Cure a Global Disfiguring Plague in 10 Easy Steps.)
By now, Darc had named the two components of pseudo-leprosy: Plague Virus A, which spread by touch and caused superficial deformities, such as the lumps on Claw's head. And Plague Virus B, as yet undetected, which was genetically passed on from parent to child.
(Incidentally, this also explained why the KKK persisted.)
Darc also spent a portion of the day examining samples from the Leper tribe. He discovered - much to his relief - that most of the tribespeople were already immune to Plague Virus A.
(You hear enough Britney Spears music, you either go under or get resistant.)
By the looks of things, the strength and numbers of Virus A must have been diminishing in the tribe long before Darc arrived - a case of natural immunity developing over the centuries.
(Science!)
But a couple of newcomers like Shara, Darc - or Dohan - who had never been exposed to either virus, would be extremely vulnerable to the Plague... unless the vaccine was used.
It dawned on him, that as long as the fortified cities kept isolating themselves from the Plague-carrying Lepers, the city-dwellers would always remain vulnerable to the disease.
(MESSAGE!!)
The whole social setup was a self-perpetuating vicious circle, which kept the Plague alive and dangerous.
(You mean like any society at any time in human history?)
How was Darc to change this - for he once again saw that change was long overdue - during his lifetime?
(By asking the readers rhetorical questions!)
(You'll have to wait longer than that - The Cure is still working on their next album!)
He let go of the work and approached her.
(And addressed her.)
"Do you understand why I must change your world? Partly, because it constantly tries to kill me with its old laws and ways... and partly because I see good people suffer from those laws and ways."
Shara answered, sounding bitter:
("Everything I ever believed was a lie!")
"Of course I understand it. It's been that way my entire life. I've been hounded, flogged, and spat upon by city people ever since I was a little girl."
(Yeechh!)
Her deep resentments, so long dormant, suddenly surfaced.
(Any moment now, that one sentence will describe Hillary Clinton perfectly.)
With ferocious intensity, she hugged him and said in his ear: "If you raised an army, smashed the nobility, and all the fat merchants saw the Lepers come and burn down their rich homes, I would be the first to celebrate! Would you do that - start an uprising?"
([Choir hums the Soviet National Anthem])
Darc pulled away her arms, then appeared to change his mind, embraced and kissed her.
And he shook his head.
"No, not even for you. I am a vain and selfish man, true. And I've grown quite fond of you. But I won't do that."
([Sings] "'Cause I would do anything for love...")
She held on to him, urging with soft-spoken intensity: "But you could become a leader, a king! I saw you capture the hearts of a hundred bloodthirsty Lepers! If you want to stop this persecution of us, then you're forced to seize power!"
("The material dialectic of history commands it!")
Darc rubbed his scalp against her face, then looked up and grinned haplessly at the clear blue sky.
(She rubbed his dandruff out of her face.)
"Power!" he said, squinting. "What is it good for?
(Insert the Frankie Goes To Hollywood joke of your choice.)
You know... once, when I was a little boy, I wanted power over others. I dreamed of being stronger than everyone else, the way boys do.
(Except little Alan Alda.)
One day, I dressed up as a little king in front of the mirror. I puffed up myself, feeling all-powerful. And just then, my mother came into the room and saw me, with my little paper crown and my little cape - a curtain for a cape. And she smiled at me - just smiled. I felt so stupid. My face went red.
(My diapers filled.)
But my mother lifted me up in her arms and kissed me, and then I knew she loved me anyway.
(Yeah, sure.)
"Ever since that time, I can always see the little puffed-up boy in every leader.
(The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Boy.)
And I have always known, that it's a hundred times better to be free than to have power over others. Power should be spread thin, not be held by one man. That's what I'm going to do in this world."
("After I become the people's supreme dictator.")
Shara looked away. She tried to release herself from Darc's arms - but he caught her, puzzled by her sudden bad mood.
("Mood Puzzle, 500 Pieces... Oh, I'm never going to solve this!")
"Oh, go on with your great work," Shara muttered. "Go ahead and play the great redeemer. You're wasting your talents away."
([Sings] "My need is such, I redeem too much...")
Darc would have none of it. He shook her violently.
([Female voice]"Sto-sto-stop sha-sha-shaking me!!)
"Look at me, Shara!" he barked.
("Woof! Woof!" he shouted.)
"In my time, when two people were in love, they were truthful to each other.
("Most of the time.")
What's on your mind? Damn! I'm from another time - you can tell me everything!"
(She told him everything. It took an entire lifetime. The End.)
She winced, but she told him; the words poured out from between her full red lips.
("Young lady, have you been eating dictionaries again?")
"You're a merchant's son, Darc. It's in your face. You must have grown up in a wealthy home - you never had to fight for your food. What do you know about hard times? You know nothing! Nothing!
("You Earth people are stupid! Stupid!")
"I should've been well off too - but the city people wouldn't let me! They branded our family unclean, threw rocks after us in the street.
("But we still supported Ralph Nader!")
My father was beaten almost to death and left a cripple, to waste away before our eyes. My mother had to sell her body to support us.
("But at least she wouldn't work for Fox News!")
And then she died too, and I was orphaned. I ran away. I was alone, but I wouldn't go off into a corner and die - I knew my worth.
("Exactly nil.")
"My parents taught me that we had been had denied our lawful right to be equal citizens. They left me no choice but to become a criminal, a mistress of rich men. All because people discovered that we -"
("- that we were Furries!")
She began to shake with hateful grief, bereft of tears - as if she had run out of those long ago. Darc wanted to help, if only he could understand. He fixed her eyes with his.
(Believe me, you don't want to see two eyeballs touching. Yuck!)
"Why was your family persecuted? Couldn't the law help you - the cities have laws and courts, don't they?"
("No, they only have 'Homeland Security' now.")
Shara's eyes glittered with fury, as she spat out her most shameful secret: "We believed in Kristos! We were heathens!"
(Could've been worse: They might have believed in Christo.)
Darc gaped foolishly, then took Shara's dark head in his hands, burying it in the hollow of his neck.
(The Legend of Sleepy Hollow Neck.)
He was holding in his arms a link to his own time, a persecuted remnant of a vanished culture. It was a poignant moment, even to a skeptic like him.
("OK, Poignant Moment over! Now get out of my sight, crazy woman.")
"I'm sorry, Shara. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. In my time - in my time I was raised in the same faith."
("Nearly the same, anyway - our family was Mormon.")
She looked up at him with her wide black eyes, eyes that were so skillfully trained to catch men's attention.
"You did? You believe in the Sacrament? That the bread and wine of the Mass turn into the body of Kristos?"
("And the power of Castle Grayskull?")
"Well... to be honest, I don't really believe in that anymore. When my ancestors came to England from Italy a long time ago, they changed their name from Archimboldo to Archibald, to avoid the prejudice against their people. And though we did not forget the old faith, it was not... rigidly practised, and soon enough we changed our ways."
("When we moved into Notting Hill.")
"Have you... converted to the Goddess?"
She turned fearful; he soothed her.
"No, no! I believe... that every human has the right to be free." He smiled sadly, and held up her round chin to his face. "You haven't understood a word I've said, have you?"
("Since you voted Dubya in '04...")
"I guess not. What do you mean, 'free'? Does it include the right to a fair trial in court, or not having to work without pay?"
([Female voice] "And reinstating the Habeas Corpus?")
"More, much more. The right to believe in anything you want, to do or say anything you want - as long as it doesn't hurt anyone!"
([Female voice] "Cut your Commie talk, you Un-American English bastard...")
His creed, so unlike anything Shara had ever heard before, opened a door in her mind.
(A door to an open elevator shaft.)
It went blank for a minute. Darc waited patiently, hoping at least she, of all people, would get it right.
(Here, the author takes the "Vague" style to dizzying new heights.)
And then in a flash, Darc made sense to her.
([Female voice]"I'm blind! I can't see! You burned my eyes!")
All his words, his actions made sense - in the light of his faith, this worship of freedom. Now she began to cry for real. But it was happy tears, and she laughed.
("Boo-hoo! Ha-ha! Waaahh! He-he!")
It was a wonderful, tittering sound - her voice released. Shara felt a great relief, and then she knew why.
(Her Ex-Lax was kicking in.)
She wasn't afraid of him anymore.
(Just moderately sick.)
A great passion was set free in her mind. She kissed him on the mouth, and all over his face, and his response was no less warm than hers. They ignored the eyes of Lepers in the distance, until Darc felt his desire surge. Could he wait until the night? Could she?
He asked her.
("Um, would you mind coming along with me to the nearest Holiday Inn...?")
"No," she replied with a knowing smile. Then they both laughed.
(Muaa ha ha haaa! Nyuk-nyuk! Heh-heh, heh-heh!)
They hastily gathered together the equipment and carried it into Claw's house. It was a hot noon, but the shadow of the cliff was cool.
(So you're saying the house was "a hot noon"... would you mind explaining that?)
This, however, could not possibly cool them off. As soon as they were safely in their room, Darc tossed Shara onto the hard bed and flung himself upon her. She welcomed him with a joyful laugh.
(The less said about that sentence, the better.)
Meanwhile, up on the plateau, Dohan took a siesta under the shadow of the ship's metal belly. He dreamed of Meijji again.
(And of other epochs of ancient Japanese history.)
(Sponsored by Viagra.)
Shara felt truly alive for the first time in many years, and she rewarded Darc for it with all her passion. They lost track of time, making love for longer than they thought possible.
(Sponsored by Cialis.)
Yet when they ceased, breathless and red-faced, they found that less than four hours had passed. Not a word had been uttered between them during those four hours.
(The longest period they had ever shut their traps.)
There were many things they wanted to tell each other, promises they longed to make but feared to break in days to come.
(After the election.)
Both were aware of the odds stacked against their survival, and the differences that might never be bridged. As Darc raised his ruffled head from Shara's chest to speak, she shook her head and put her fingers to his lips.
(For a detailed chart of their precise movements, consult Appendix A.)
"Save that precious voice for the Lepers, honey. You don't have to say anything."
("In fact, shut up!!")
Darc took a moment to steady his breath, then he couldn't help himself.
([Fart noise])
"I was about to say..." he said, and flashed a mischievous grin, "Going for older men is one thing, but isn't this going nine centuries too far?"
(Hardy har har.)
She beat his chest in mock reproach, then began to laugh so hard she couldn't lie still. He laughed with her as they embraced again.
(Uncontrollable laughter and promiscuity: the dread symptoms of Mad Cow Disease!)
DARC AGES (c)A.R.Yngve 1995, 2000, 2004. All rights reserved. May not be copied without permission.
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