"I've heard of drugs like that, but they're, um, voluntary. Take as needed, then stop. But where you're from everybody takes them, whether they need to or not?"
"Where I'm from?" He nods a little, confirming that while he might be crazy due to being off the Prozium, wherever he's crazy in isn't Libria. "Yes. After the Third World War, it was decided that in order to prevent humanity from fighting itself into extinction sacrifices must be made. We began daily Prozium treatments to prevent anger and rage, and sacrificed happiness and love." He paused. "Very recently, I came to discover that I think that the wrong decision was made. None of this sounds familiar to you?"
Now this sounded interesting indeed. Camilla set aside the Dictaquill-produced copy of the newcomer's application and gave him an unabashedly curious look.
"You're a priest who fights and who has children?"
"A priest? No. Religion is--" he hesitated, then decided to use the past-tense. "Religion was too linked to the part of human nature that caused aggression and wars. It's a secular title."
Her brows quirked up at that. "So old Church terms are used -- priest, monastery, cleric -- in a strictly vestigial way? Language does shift awfully strangely at times. But then what does this not-church do?"
"I never thought about it before. I suppose we do use the old words. I can't think why, though. Grammaton clerics are the ones called in to deal with sense offenders, rebels, criminals--the worst in Librian society." He frowned. "Which I am now, I suppose. We're trained to kill as effectively as possible, specifically in gun kata."
Perhaps it was poetic justice that a man who had spent his career meting out (in)justice to 'sense offenders' should now be greeted by this, a most grievous offense to the senses.
Tinky Winky lurched into the Sorting Room. It looked as though the tall purple Teletubby might have had some issues with the Tubby Custard machine today. Pink splotches bedecked him, and he was trying to lick custard off his arm.
When he saw the newcomer, he perked up immediately, his delicious arm forgotten, and bounded up like a puppy. A puppy taller than a man (counting the antenna).
"Eh-oh!" he caroled. Don't ask why he was waving even though he was only a few feet away from Preston. Eh-oh and waving went together. They just did.
If Preston had grown up believing in a higher power, he might have asked it what in the name of hell this thing was. Was it bleeding pink? It seemed to be a hallucination of the strangest sort, and he supposed that hallucinations could bleed pink if they decided to do so. He took a step back, hands ready to release his pistols from their sleeve holsters if it tried to chew on his arm. Not knowing what else to do, he offered a tentative, half-hearted wave back.
The wave was all Tinky Winky needed. "Fwiend!" he lowed with glee.
"One day in Hogwartstubbyland, Tinky Winky made a new friend," announced a masculine voice from nowhere in particular. It was not Tinky Winky's voice. Its tenor was almost impossibly smooth, and its pitch was low and soothing. Too bad the voice came out of motherfucking nowhere, so it wasn't soothing at all to most people.
"Fwiend," Tinky Winky agreed with the voice, undisturbed by the redundancy of his own remark. Teletubbies thrived on repetition.
So the Narrator said it again. "Friend."
"Fwwwwiiiiieeeeend," Tinky Winky drew the word out.
"Tinky Winky fwiend hungwy?
"Tinky Winky thought his new friend might be hungry," the Narrator helped.
Preston's guns were out and ready the second he heard the voice out of nowhere. Unfortunately, there was nothing to point them at, and so away they went. For the moment, anyway. And apparantly the voice and... thing... considered themselves friendly. Assuming, of course, that to them "friend" wasn't just "dinner" mistranslated.
Additionally, the thing--Tinky Winky, the voice had said, and what the hell kind of name was that, had taken an interest in his health. "It depends on what's available," he said. Normally he was of the opinion that food was food, but who knew what mentally-deficient hallucinations and their accompanying voices considered to be food?
Harry certainly was not the soppy type. The romance stories in Witch Weekly were not his cup of tea. But this by no means meant that he was unfamiliar with the concept of love. On the contrary, it was love that had saved his life on more than one occasion. It was the love of his parents that he had longed for much of his life, and it was the love of his friends that had been the real magic at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had told him about the strong, ancient magic encapsulated in love and how love was the one thing that Voldemort couldn't tolerate.
Because of all this, Harry was shocked at John's mention of Prozium - perhaps a spell or a pill? - and how it suppressed the one thing that was at the core of life as Harry knew it.
"What is Prozium, and why wouldn't you want to feel emotions like love?" he asked, obviously very taken aback.
"It's a medication that suppresses strong emotion. Some people made the decision that losing all strong emotions was the only way we could keep from fighting ourselves into extinction." He offered the boy a slightly embarassed half-smile. "I suppose it sounded like a good idea at the time."
"It sounds like a terrible idea," Harry said bluntly, although not in an unfriendly sort of way. "Does anyone have any friends where you come from?"
He simply couldn't imagine life without strong emotions. Sure, anger and hatred often caused untold amounts of trouble, but getting rid of them wasn't worth it if it meant getting rid of joy and love.
He had to think on that for a bit. Partridge... had probably been as close as a friend as Preston had ever had, and that had still ended with Preston shooting Partridge in the throat. "Not really," he conceded. "There's people you're fond of and get used to, but I don't think it's the same thing."
Comments 98
"Let me see if I've got this right. Everyone where you come from is on drugs? To keep them, I don't know, passive?"
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"I've heard of drugs like that, but they're, um, voluntary. Take as needed, then stop. But where you're from everybody takes them, whether they need to or not?"
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"You're a priest who fights and who has children?"
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Tinky Winky lurched into the Sorting Room. It looked as though the tall purple Teletubby might have had some issues with the Tubby Custard machine today. Pink splotches bedecked him, and he was trying to lick custard off his arm.
When he saw the newcomer, he perked up immediately, his delicious arm forgotten, and bounded up like a puppy. A puppy taller than a man (counting the antenna).
"Eh-oh!" he caroled. Don't ask why he was waving even though he was only a few feet away from Preston. Eh-oh and waving went together. They just did.
Reply
Reply
"One day in Hogwartstubbyland, Tinky Winky made a new friend," announced a masculine voice from nowhere in particular. It was not Tinky Winky's voice. Its tenor was almost impossibly smooth, and its pitch was low and soothing. Too bad the voice came out of motherfucking nowhere, so it wasn't soothing at all to most people.
"Fwiend," Tinky Winky agreed with the voice, undisturbed by the redundancy of his own remark. Teletubbies thrived on repetition.
So the Narrator said it again. "Friend."
"Fwwwwiiiiieeeeend," Tinky Winky drew the word out.
"Tinky Winky fwiend hungwy?
"Tinky Winky thought his new friend might be hungry," the Narrator helped.
Reply
Additionally, the thing--Tinky Winky, the voice had said, and what the hell kind of name was that, had taken an interest in his health. "It depends on what's available," he said. Normally he was of the opinion that food was food, but who knew what mentally-deficient hallucinations and their accompanying voices considered to be food?
Reply
Because of all this, Harry was shocked at John's mention of Prozium - perhaps a spell or a pill? - and how it suppressed the one thing that was at the core of life as Harry knew it.
"What is Prozium, and why wouldn't you want to feel emotions like love?" he asked, obviously very taken aback.
Reply
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He simply couldn't imagine life without strong emotions. Sure, anger and hatred often caused untold amounts of trouble, but getting rid of them wasn't worth it if it meant getting rid of joy and love.
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