It's like Grand Central Station in Here - Oh [OPEN]
Sandwiched in between a temple Rhiow hadn't recognized and a cathedral she thought she had was the gleaming facade of Grand Central Station, with its clock ticking away, Mercury above it with his sandal-wings outspread. The door to the main concourse was unlocked of course - it never stopped moving, after all.
Or it hadn't, when it was where it was supposed to be, in the middle of midtown Manhattan. Rhiow had never seen the terminal so silent. Even in the early hours of the morning, before any of the restaurants and bars were open, the maintenance workers were always there doing work on the tracks or the trains. But Rhiow had been to every inch of the terminal and hadn't seen a soul, not even a rat. No trains lay in the underground storage yards. Even downside in the sub-basement, no life stirred except the hyperstrings and Stacy's ever-present hum.
She sat in the middle of the main concourse, staring up at the four-faced clock, her eyes half-closed. She had claimed this spot as her own, even if she hadn't said as much to the crew. No-one seemed to come here, another oddity with the way Rhiow had seen this place last. And here, with the backward ceiling above her and the four-faced clock at her front, she did her meditation.
When she was on Earth, in comfort in the city, she would say small sections of it, and say it silently. Here on Stacy, when her life had been turned backward and upside-down, she said it in full, and aloud, the way it had been taught to her.
Rhiow came to the last paragraph and her voice grew a fraction louder. "For my own part, I know my job; my commission comes from Those Who Are. I will meet some today who think that day is blind and that night lies with its eyes closed; that the Gaze doesn't see them, or doesn't care. Their certainty of blindness, though, need not mean anything to me. My paw raised is Their paw on the neck of the Serpent, now and always. I shall walk through Their worlds as do the Powers that Be, seeing and knowing with Them and for Them, tending Their worlds as if they were mine: for so indeed they are. Silently shall I strive to go my way, as They do, doing my work unseen; the light needs no reminding by me of good deeds done by night. And in this long progress through all that is, though I will know doubt and fear in the strange places where I must walk, I will put these both aside, as the Oath requires, and hold myself to my work... for if They and I together cannot mend what is marred, who can-? And having done my work aright, though I may know weariness at day's end, come awakening I shall rise up and say again, with Them, as if surprised, 'behold, the world is made new!'"
If she knew anyone was there, she gave no indication.
Or it hadn't, when it was where it was supposed to be, in the middle of midtown Manhattan. Rhiow had never seen the terminal so silent. Even in the early hours of the morning, before any of the restaurants and bars were open, the maintenance workers were always there doing work on the tracks or the trains. But Rhiow had been to every inch of the terminal and hadn't seen a soul, not even a rat. No trains lay in the underground storage yards. Even downside in the sub-basement, no life stirred except the hyperstrings and Stacy's ever-present hum.
She sat in the middle of the main concourse, staring up at the four-faced clock, her eyes half-closed. She had claimed this spot as her own, even if she hadn't said as much to the crew. No-one seemed to come here, another oddity with the way Rhiow had seen this place last. And here, with the backward ceiling above her and the four-faced clock at her front, she did her meditation.
When she was on Earth, in comfort in the city, she would say small sections of it, and say it silently. Here on Stacy, when her life had been turned backward and upside-down, she said it in full, and aloud, the way it had been taught to her.
Rhiow came to the last paragraph and her voice grew a fraction louder. "For my own part, I know my job; my commission comes from Those Who Are. I will meet some today who think that day is blind and that night lies with its eyes closed; that the Gaze doesn't see them, or doesn't care. Their certainty of blindness, though, need not mean anything to me. My paw raised is Their paw on the neck of the Serpent, now and always. I shall walk through Their worlds as do the Powers that Be, seeing and knowing with Them and for Them, tending Their worlds as if they were mine: for so indeed they are. Silently shall I strive to go my way, as They do, doing my work unseen; the light needs no reminding by me of good deeds done by night. And in this long progress through all that is, though I will know doubt and fear in the strange places where I must walk, I will put these both aside, as the Oath requires, and hold myself to my work... for if They and I together cannot mend what is marred, who can-? And having done my work aright, though I may know weariness at day's end, come awakening I shall rise up and say again, with Them, as if surprised, 'behold, the world is made new!'"
If she knew anyone was there, she gave no indication.