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Aug. 14th, 2005 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walk_insIn a dark room, there is a door. On the other side of the door, it's mid-afternoon; on this side, it's early morning. Time between this world and that rarely runs in synch, and time on this side never runs smooth, anymore.
It's a mechanical door, not a magical one, and lights flicker and turbines grind as the ancient mechanism tries to access its counterpart. Finally, time here and there comes together, and the door lights up; gets a little more solid.
No one comes through. Their welcoming party is late (the train is broken down again, and they're walking, and cursing) and so are the new arrivals.
Time passes, and this is more accurate than you may think. If you think of the time here and the time there as two ships passing in the eternal night of todash space... well, they're drifting apart.
And then the door flies open and spills them out, the gunslinger, the wizard, the mad girl and the Rose Bride. The effects of such mechanical gateways are always nauseating in these days since the world moved on, and with the two doors nearly out of synch--and the destruction of the door they came through, almost simultaneous with their transmission--the effects are much much worse.
And before they can recover, the earthquake comes, the Beamquake, as time hitches forward and the life of Chloe's Beam runs out. They stumble, fall; sparks fly, and some of the monitors in the wall explode.
Darkness takes them all, and hours pass.
They awake in a place completely unfamiliar. It's somewhere inside a building, and it's dark...except for the ghostly light spilled out on the floor by television monitors. Thirty of them, a few shattered. Twenty-one show pictures that Roland Deschain might find familiar, if he had time to look.
Only there's not much time to take in the sights.
There's sound coming from outside the door.
"WELCOME TO ARC QUADRANT OUTPOST 16. THIS IS A MEDIUM SECURITY OUTPOST. PLEASE GIVE -- "
Roland stiffens; the voice sounds like that of Blaine the Mono, and he knows where Arc Quadrant Outpost 16 is --
"Ninety-nine, you sack of shit! Come on! Open the goddam door!"
"THANK YOU."
Roland has time to draw his gun. "Humans. Taheen. Mayhap can-toi. Expect them -- "
The door opens.
It's a mechanical door, not a magical one, and lights flicker and turbines grind as the ancient mechanism tries to access its counterpart. Finally, time here and there comes together, and the door lights up; gets a little more solid.
No one comes through. Their welcoming party is late (the train is broken down again, and they're walking, and cursing) and so are the new arrivals.
Time passes, and this is more accurate than you may think. If you think of the time here and the time there as two ships passing in the eternal night of todash space... well, they're drifting apart.
And then the door flies open and spills them out, the gunslinger, the wizard, the mad girl and the Rose Bride. The effects of such mechanical gateways are always nauseating in these days since the world moved on, and with the two doors nearly out of synch--and the destruction of the door they came through, almost simultaneous with their transmission--the effects are much much worse.
And before they can recover, the earthquake comes, the Beamquake, as time hitches forward and the life of Chloe's Beam runs out. They stumble, fall; sparks fly, and some of the monitors in the wall explode.
Darkness takes them all, and hours pass.
They awake in a place completely unfamiliar. It's somewhere inside a building, and it's dark...except for the ghostly light spilled out on the floor by television monitors. Thirty of them, a few shattered. Twenty-one show pictures that Roland Deschain might find familiar, if he had time to look.
Only there's not much time to take in the sights.
There's sound coming from outside the door.
"WELCOME TO ARC QUADRANT OUTPOST 16. THIS IS A MEDIUM SECURITY OUTPOST. PLEASE GIVE -- "
Roland stiffens; the voice sounds like that of Blaine the Mono, and he knows where Arc Quadrant Outpost 16 is --
"Ninety-nine, you sack of shit! Come on! Open the goddam door!"
"THANK YOU."
Roland has time to draw his gun. "Humans. Taheen. Mayhap can-toi. Expect them -- "
The door opens.
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Date: 2005-08-09 04:30 am (UTC)He feels nauseous, and his head is throbbing. He also feels twitchy, not right. When he speaks, his tone of voice is snide and mocking.*
I'm an Opener, not a bloody time machine. I can't pick the damned year. The doors open where they want to go, I can only choose from the ones available.
It's not an exact science, you know.
*He slams his hand angrily against the door, more Darkness swirling through him every moment he stands there. There are many doors there, doors beyond the counting, but they don't want to open for him.
Tom's never been to Maine, he's not lived in 1977, and there is no bloody way he can do this... And yet his mind reaches out and touches the one they need.*
Right, hold on.
*He grabs for Anthy's hand and waits to feel Roland and River take their grasp. For a moment he hates them all. He should just search for the door back to Milliways. That would show them.
But he doesn't.
With a great deal of effort, he Opens. He feels his nose begin to bleed as he pulls them all through.*
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Date: 2005-08-09 05:41 am (UTC)You get to the top of the hill, and then... look out below.
The door Opens to the exact same place it opened last time (which was only a few hours ago, in this timeline); the place the ka of the ka-tet of Nineteen would bind them go. The same happens here; the same places, the same cruel ka. A place that isn't just one place, or one time.
The only difference is, this time no one goes to Milliways.
The door swings open under Tom's hand--an Opener doesn't need a physical door, but this isn't a physical door, not really; it's just a solid glammer over a portal to everywhere and everywhen.
The scene is not Maine. The scene is New York City, in the summer of 1999. And the force set in motion when the door opens grabs Tom and River and Anthy and drags them away into that vital summer. Look out below.
The door slams closed.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 09:23 am (UTC)I have kissed honey lips
Now that Roland is alone -- truly alone, for his way back...the way is shut. Tom Riddle, Opener, has gone through with Anthy and River.
Felt the healing in her fingertips
He won't be going back to Milliways.
It burned like fire
He's alone.
(I was) burning inside her.
Cort's voice, gruff, in his head: So you are, Roland. Now. Stand, and be true. This is what you wanted.
I have spoke with the tongue of angels
He raises his head. He knows he's going into a firefight. He knows -- Eddie. He'll have to pull down Eddie, keep him from getting shot in the head.
I have held the hand of a devil
He'll have to be careful not to give anything away. But -- Joe changed the timeline. The Horn of Eld, the Horn o' Deschain, is at his side to prove that. Roland touches it. Maybe Eddie won't die. Maybe Jake won't die. Maybe he can save Jake.
It was warm in the night
There are as many paths as there are worlds, and there are other worlds than these. Delah.
I was cold as a stone.
Roland swallows, and holds his head high, and waits.
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
Vacation's over.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 10:00 am (UTC)Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
Time's a joke and space a riddle
The Tower awaits you in the middle
When blackness was a virtue an' the road was full of mud
It could open to anywhere and anywhen. Even Milliways again, capricious old door that sent him there once. (Did you ever notice? The man didn't come in the front door. Just faded in by the Bar, did Roland Deschain. He wasn't supposed to be there, say true.)
I came out of the wilderness, a creature void of form
The door bides, and the magic gathers, and maybe it will be enough for one more time. One more toss of the dice.
Come in, she said, I'll give ya shelter from the storm
Do I understand your question, man? Is it hopeless and forlorn?
The hinges creak, and a wind begins to blow. The voices of this cave, Kra Kammen, the House of Ghosts, began to sing. They all want to be remembered. We all do.
Do you love?
The door swings open.
And tell me, how do you make love stay?
Welcome, traveller, beyond lies East Stoneham, Maine... and the Dark Tower.
The gravity of the door catches him, like a hook around his spine, and he's drawn again, back into that wild shuffle of the deck, back into the book of ka he put down around page forty-three, with the ancient siguls of his line at his side.
A soul can let its shadow stretch and land on either side -- either side.
Gun on one side, horn on the other. Death and Plenty. Sorrow and Joy. A balance.
And balanced on the precipice, the moment must reveal
And then the door slams shut, forever and ever amen, the end. Game over.
Naked in the face of time, our race within the wheel
Case closed.
As we hang beneath the heavens and we hover over hell
Zip up your fly.
Our hearts become the instruments we learn to play so well.
Many things will come to pass. Some will be punished, and some pardoned.
But this is certain. One purple evening--a night made for romance--Childe Roland will come to his Tower at last, winding his horn, and there he will sing their names.
Cigar?
There he will sing all their names.
Mo cuishle.
I tell God thankya.