((Been a long time since I posted a story! ....But rest assured, this one is actually FINISHED! There is an ending! Joyous celebration! *confetti* Anyway, this one's been in the works now for months. I thought that it was difficult, if not impossible, to convey exactly how Nulion's mind had been working for the past year or so; that it needed a representation in story form, and needed to be displayed. This is that display, essentially ...And pretty much EVERYTHING here is a metaphor! Yay! Also, a quick note to Foos. You'll enjoy the nice little thing that I did not forget about in here, that you helped me out with. Trust me, you'll know it when you see it! ...Anyway, enjoy the story everybody! And let me know what you think! I reeeeeally love comments ))
Three
There are three rooms.
Each of these spaces is connected, and yet fragmented into pieces that cannot be repaired by hammer and drywall, nor by machine and labor. These spaces are constructed from construction itself, and decorated with pieces of the imagination...
...but of whose imagination?
There are three separate imaginations within these three separate rooms, each with their own yearnings, their own separate tickings and machinations.
Two of these imaginations are at odds with one another, the one coming into unwelcome contact with the other through an enormous tear that threatens to meld their spaces into one. The third could care less, only watching through a pane of glass with innocence as the other two glare both longingly and fearfully at the other. This embodiment of Innocence doesn't care who wins this war of attrition, who comes out on top; either way, it will stay as happy and bliss-intoxicated as it has been since it “came” to “live” with its “roommates”.
The two at odds, however, can never be satisfied while the other exists, and yet they rely upon one another...
They are the Orderly, and the Feral.