OOM: Preston and Dog. Prt. 1
Home is where the heart is
But hearts break, hearts tear, and hearts belong to
women twisting in mirrors that make him uneasy.
Preston's never questioned that until now.
It was tossed at him ages ago by a sense offender and
he never thought to dwell on it, though Partridge would
not speak to him for a long time afterwards.
Instead he'd returned home to Vivianna cooking dinner
and Robbie and Lisa both informing him about their
days in that same bland dead tone.
But he's left that place, Milliways. With Ray and
Mary Anne and the rest. People he...liked.
People like Partridge.
Preston studied the Ec-10 material he'd confiscated from
the Evidentary under pretense of investigation,
flipping through the worn pages with free hands-
paper on skin
It felt good. The simple solid act of turning
a page, the excitment building up until the final
act of flipping paper over to reveal the next part
of the song, dance, drama, action.
Men can be brilliant and strong, they whispered
to one another, But men can be mad as well.
"And the Mad ones can ruin the world..."
He wanted to laugh, and taste laughter. They had
predicted it! Wise sages that his predecessors were they
saw it coming.
Pieces were falling together.
"John?"
Excitment turns bitter as Preston in a hurried
motion sweeps the contraband under his sofa and looks
to the dark hallway that leads to bedrooms.
Robbie.
His son, his son is standing in the doorway.
"Why are you up late?"
The response is automatic, just as it's been with
colleagues, superiors...
"I'm unwell." Preston said. He forced his tone into the
same bland and blank sound that Robbie used, "I fear that
the last A&R in the nether left me with a cold."
Fake Smile.
Father and son stared at each other across the room before
Robbie nodded, seemingly accepting of his father's lie.
"You're all right?"
No. Preston nods and sends him back to bed, all
the while thinking to himself, secret whispers, No,
I killed my only friend, I let them take my wife-the mother
of my children. I left you and countless others
without family and without support in favor of a corrupted
system.
He's found his way to the bathroom again. And there
deposits his morning interval behind the bathroom mirror
where he found his secret hiding place.
For he had a secret now.
"It hurts."
Preston wipes at the tears running down his face as he
falls to his knees, still weeping.
For to be a human is to be keenly aware.
Aware of death and decay. Aware of pain and suffering.
That was the first night home. Vivianna being taken,
Partridge's monologue in the background like a broken
multimedia disk, repeating, repeating...
"Time always catches up with you!"
He and Brandt had caught and executed the Comic Book
purveyor.
Preston staggered to his feet and somehow made his way to
the bedroom where he collapsed, still in his uniform-
staring at the ceiling for a moment before twisting onto
his side and clenching his jaw shut to keep from sobbing.
Each heartbeat hammered in his chest, each nerve
tingled with primary, secondary, teritary contact. His
throat contracted with each contained sob as he kept
the pain below, inside, away from the world.
How do you do it? It was worse being back here.
He couldn't be calm here, he couldn't feel...safe.
Practice, sparring, none of these things brought relief.
A cage.
He was in a cage.
Was this what it meant to be human? To be totally emmersed
in emotion from birth to death, living, dying, breathing,
totally aware of each spasm, each eye contact, each
beat within his chest?
He understood father.
And the sense offenders. God help them. God help-
Mary.
Without love, without hatred, without regret,
without sorrow, breath is just a clock ticking..
What would Dr. Venkman have to say about that?
Or any of them?
Because when he closed his eyes he saw her. Sitting
in her cell so defiant and cocky, so devoted to her cause.
Sense offenders. No, not offenders, humanity His
fellow brothers and Sisters, Mary Chief among them.
Mary with her long brown hair and ice-hard blue eyes
that hated him and yet-
He wondered what those eyes would be like softened.
what they would be like saying "I love you" or "Stay
with me Preston."
John. I wouldn't mind if she-
Nobody ever called him John.
How he loved her.
Or maybe it wasn't love. It was attraction to be sure.
Thinking about her stirred him in ways that left him
dizzy and intoxicated and wanting more.
How he loved them, his race, his species.
And he hated them.
All those he'd met, all those who'd befriended him or
smiled at him upon contact. All those who'd provided him
with knowledge and information. all those he'd arrested
and all those he worked with.
Because they were different. Because they were collected
because they understood their emotions and were
in control. Control through chaos and anarchy that
was mankind, being an animal, an animal becoming, or control
through father's golden opiate. A path he'd thought
about turning back to upon seeing a sunrise for the
first time and having the rainbow colors move him to tears
at the majesty of the world they'd so brilliantly fucked up.
He didn't want to be without control.
He drifted off to sleep somewhere in between wishing
death and doom upon humanity that had come before him and
begging for salvation and health from their cruel god.
But by morning he knew.
He knew upon seeing Robbie and Lisa off to school what had
to be done, what had to be done to save them and
others.
Can you bring back pain?
There had come a day in before the upheaval when there
was a great broadcast signal and all of the world was
treated to a spectacular show of the end of the world.
Men and women stopped cars in the street, children looked
up from their games as the first nuclear weapons were used.
But it was more then the war.
Could be bring back sorrow? the thought of death and
decay? People did not worry about death, they went peacefully
in their sleep at a required center at a required time.
can't have the good without the bad.
It was only logical to assume that the universe would
be balanced in such a manner.
But it was affirmed by the dogs.
A raid, a raid in the nether with Brandt taking the lead,
eagerly. Like a child with a toy gun.
Nice grab Cleric..
He was death. Death in Black.
They'd found the dogs out back.
These were defended by women and children. They were
put down with ease.
This isn't the first time we've seen this. Brandt
was smug, so very smug, What do they keep these animals
for? do they...do they eat them?
And Preston's reminded of a small yellow beastie that
drew, and liked chocolate.
They might very well eat you Brandt. Preston
said nothing however, would you like that?
Put them down
And Preston sees a woman with ears and a tale. a human
and yet an animal at the same time.
He'd never felt emotional pain before.
There was worry yes, there was hatred, anger, fear,
horror but-
actual pain?
Dog cries echoed throughout the nether and to John
Preston they were the cries of children.
small, furry, four-legged children to be sure but...
Grab it!
Grab it quick sir!
And he did and-
Give it to me sir, and I'll finish it off.
The dog met his gaze unflinchingly.
It was...
Yellow beastie
It was...
Purring Cat. A woman with fur and ears. Changing into
a teapot?
Cute.
"These...animals need to be tested for disease."
Instinct brought the animal close to him and he clutched
it to his breast as he made his way off.
"If there's an outbreak in the nether we need to know about it."
Soft and warm furry wiggling-
Preston found himself at his trunk.
Morning sun brightened the garage. It was a garage at one point,
now it was just storage for nessescary items, laundry, and a place
for those few in Liberian Society with licenses to store their cars.
No one had come down yet.
Preston opened his trunk for a moment and-for reasons unknown to him
wraps his arms around the dog and hugs it tightly, the puppy
grinning to itself.
But hearts break, hearts tear, and hearts belong to
women twisting in mirrors that make him uneasy.
Preston's never questioned that until now.
It was tossed at him ages ago by a sense offender and
he never thought to dwell on it, though Partridge would
not speak to him for a long time afterwards.
Instead he'd returned home to Vivianna cooking dinner
and Robbie and Lisa both informing him about their
days in that same bland dead tone.
But he's left that place, Milliways. With Ray and
Mary Anne and the rest. People he...liked.
People like Partridge.
Preston studied the Ec-10 material he'd confiscated from
the Evidentary under pretense of investigation,
flipping through the worn pages with free hands-
paper on skin
It felt good. The simple solid act of turning
a page, the excitment building up until the final
act of flipping paper over to reveal the next part
of the song, dance, drama, action.
Men can be brilliant and strong, they whispered
to one another, But men can be mad as well.
"And the Mad ones can ruin the world..."
He wanted to laugh, and taste laughter. They had
predicted it! Wise sages that his predecessors were they
saw it coming.
Pieces were falling together.
"John?"
Excitment turns bitter as Preston in a hurried
motion sweeps the contraband under his sofa and looks
to the dark hallway that leads to bedrooms.
Robbie.
His son, his son is standing in the doorway.
"Why are you up late?"
The response is automatic, just as it's been with
colleagues, superiors...
"I'm unwell." Preston said. He forced his tone into the
same bland and blank sound that Robbie used, "I fear that
the last A&R in the nether left me with a cold."
Fake Smile.
Father and son stared at each other across the room before
Robbie nodded, seemingly accepting of his father's lie.
"You're all right?"
No. Preston nods and sends him back to bed, all
the while thinking to himself, secret whispers, No,
I killed my only friend, I let them take my wife-the mother
of my children. I left you and countless others
without family and without support in favor of a corrupted
system.
He's found his way to the bathroom again. And there
deposits his morning interval behind the bathroom mirror
where he found his secret hiding place.
For he had a secret now.
"It hurts."
Preston wipes at the tears running down his face as he
falls to his knees, still weeping.
For to be a human is to be keenly aware.
Aware of death and decay. Aware of pain and suffering.
That was the first night home. Vivianna being taken,
Partridge's monologue in the background like a broken
multimedia disk, repeating, repeating...
"Time always catches up with you!"
He and Brandt had caught and executed the Comic Book
purveyor.
Preston staggered to his feet and somehow made his way to
the bedroom where he collapsed, still in his uniform-
staring at the ceiling for a moment before twisting onto
his side and clenching his jaw shut to keep from sobbing.
Each heartbeat hammered in his chest, each nerve
tingled with primary, secondary, teritary contact. His
throat contracted with each contained sob as he kept
the pain below, inside, away from the world.
How do you do it? It was worse being back here.
He couldn't be calm here, he couldn't feel...safe.
Practice, sparring, none of these things brought relief.
A cage.
He was in a cage.
Was this what it meant to be human? To be totally emmersed
in emotion from birth to death, living, dying, breathing,
totally aware of each spasm, each eye contact, each
beat within his chest?
He understood father.
And the sense offenders. God help them. God help-
Mary.
Without love, without hatred, without regret,
without sorrow, breath is just a clock ticking..
What would Dr. Venkman have to say about that?
Or any of them?
Because when he closed his eyes he saw her. Sitting
in her cell so defiant and cocky, so devoted to her cause.
Sense offenders. No, not offenders, humanity His
fellow brothers and Sisters, Mary Chief among them.
Mary with her long brown hair and ice-hard blue eyes
that hated him and yet-
He wondered what those eyes would be like softened.
what they would be like saying "I love you" or "Stay
with me Preston."
John. I wouldn't mind if she-
Nobody ever called him John.
How he loved her.
Or maybe it wasn't love. It was attraction to be sure.
Thinking about her stirred him in ways that left him
dizzy and intoxicated and wanting more.
How he loved them, his race, his species.
And he hated them.
All those he'd met, all those who'd befriended him or
smiled at him upon contact. All those who'd provided him
with knowledge and information. all those he'd arrested
and all those he worked with.
Because they were different. Because they were collected
because they understood their emotions and were
in control. Control through chaos and anarchy that
was mankind, being an animal, an animal becoming, or control
through father's golden opiate. A path he'd thought
about turning back to upon seeing a sunrise for the
first time and having the rainbow colors move him to tears
at the majesty of the world they'd so brilliantly fucked up.
He didn't want to be without control.
He drifted off to sleep somewhere in between wishing
death and doom upon humanity that had come before him and
begging for salvation and health from their cruel god.
But by morning he knew.
He knew upon seeing Robbie and Lisa off to school what had
to be done, what had to be done to save them and
others.
Can you bring back pain?
There had come a day in before the upheaval when there
was a great broadcast signal and all of the world was
treated to a spectacular show of the end of the world.
Men and women stopped cars in the street, children looked
up from their games as the first nuclear weapons were used.
But it was more then the war.
Could be bring back sorrow? the thought of death and
decay? People did not worry about death, they went peacefully
in their sleep at a required center at a required time.
can't have the good without the bad.
It was only logical to assume that the universe would
be balanced in such a manner.
But it was affirmed by the dogs.
A raid, a raid in the nether with Brandt taking the lead,
eagerly. Like a child with a toy gun.
Nice grab Cleric..
He was death. Death in Black.
They'd found the dogs out back.
These were defended by women and children. They were
put down with ease.
This isn't the first time we've seen this. Brandt
was smug, so very smug, What do they keep these animals
for? do they...do they eat them?
And Preston's reminded of a small yellow beastie that
drew, and liked chocolate.
They might very well eat you Brandt. Preston
said nothing however, would you like that?
Put them down
And Preston sees a woman with ears and a tale. a human
and yet an animal at the same time.
He'd never felt emotional pain before.
There was worry yes, there was hatred, anger, fear,
horror but-
actual pain?
Dog cries echoed throughout the nether and to John
Preston they were the cries of children.
small, furry, four-legged children to be sure but...
Grab it!
Grab it quick sir!
And he did and-
Give it to me sir, and I'll finish it off.
The dog met his gaze unflinchingly.
It was...
Yellow beastie
It was...
Purring Cat. A woman with fur and ears. Changing into
a teapot?
Cute.
"These...animals need to be tested for disease."
Instinct brought the animal close to him and he clutched
it to his breast as he made his way off.
"If there's an outbreak in the nether we need to know about it."
Soft and warm furry wiggling-
Preston found himself at his trunk.
Morning sun brightened the garage. It was a garage at one point,
now it was just storage for nessescary items, laundry, and a place
for those few in Liberian Society with licenses to store their cars.
No one had come down yet.
Preston opened his trunk for a moment and-for reasons unknown to him
wraps his arms around the dog and hugs it tightly, the puppy
grinning to itself.