The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

December 1, 2020
They stood where they had not stood a moment before, though their arrival seemed not at all abrupt, accompanied by neither a flash of light nor electrical sizzle. The spatial dimensions of the room were also discontinuously altered, for, where the head of the bed had lain flush against the far wall, a gap of several feet now existed, though the bed had not been moved. Perhaps the room had expanded or perhaps something else.

They were eight in number and arranged themselves about the bed with one at the head, a second at the foot and three aligned on each side. They did not don themselves in veils of water as they had in the marsh. The circulating patterns of liquid blue light were clearly visible within their translucent bodies. The diluvian knights commenced their ceremony without chant or gesticulation, yet Cole and Arne intuitively sensed the instant that the aliens began to extract the memories from the tissue of Stig Jensen's brain.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 1 (November 27, 2004, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 2, 2020
If indeed a soul was being extracted from the entity that had been a human being, neither herald nor witness detected any physical sign--no glowing ball of light, no man-shaped, silver-limned silhouette. We are left to contemplate one of three explanations. It may well be that souls are colorless, undetectable by the physical senses. Alternatively, the diluvian knights merely preserved memories from biological decay, as they claimed, and did not tamper with the metaphysical elements of an organism. Finally, it remains within the realm of possibilities that there is no such thing as a soul.

Regardless, the procedure was quickly accomplished, a matter of a few minutes as measured by the clock in the hallway. For the diluvian knights, it took precisely one lifetime to internalize the memories. Afterward, they were gone as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving a corpse on the bed.

As if the night's activities had not been extraordinary enough, Cole was astounded when, instead of returning him to his locked room, Arne brought Cole home with him.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-4 (November 27, 2004, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 3, 2020
It was but a short drive to the small house where Arne dwelt. He led Cole into the living room, though he did not turn on the light. From the darkness of a bedroom, a woman's voice called out in Norwegian. Cole caught only Arne's name. Soon the speaker emerged from the doorway. Finding Cole in her home, her face registered surprise. "What is he doing here?" said Inger. She stood without apparent discomfiture in a chemise that reached barely to her thighs.

"Is it all as he said," Arne exclaimed. They switched back to their native tongue, making the rest of their heated conversation indecipherable to Cole.

In any case, Cole cared not for what words transpired between the couple. His mind was fixated on the undeniable fact that Arne and Inger were clearly engaged in a domestic relationship, if not marriage. It was exactly as he had initially intuited, though they had unequivocally denied it. This state of affairs proved a great shock to Cole, who was accustomed to misinterpreting signs and events. That suddenly reality should instead accord with his instinct struck him as implausible, if not antagonistic.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-7 (November 27, 2004, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 4, 2020
Gentle reader, it may strike you as absurd to the point of idiocy that Cole had greater difficulty accepting the relationship between Inger and Arne than they did in acknowledging the truth of an extra-terrestrial presence on Earth. Yet, so it was. "This can't be real," Cole repeated to himself.

After a brief phone call, Arne left to report to his superiors. Before departing, he waited for Inger to dress then instructed her to keep Cole at the house and, under no circumstances, to allow him to leave. "Don't take him on a midnight walk," he concluded in English, so that Cole understood the limits of his freedom.

Inger sat beside Cole on the sofa. Out of the blue, Cole asked, "Do you know the name of the captain of the submarine that recently surfaced?" As Inger admitted that she had not committed this detail to memory, but could retrieve it if necessary, Cole waved her off. It was beyond ridiculous that he should suspect the officer to be named Captain Nemo. Yet, if it turned out to be the case, he would have undeniable proof that his present situation was an elaborate ruse. It was, of course, impossible for his imagined fancies to correspond to, much less dictate, reality.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (August 27, 2004, 20000 V, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 5, 2020
Cole explained to Inger that, as a child, he had learned an important lesson from Captain Nemo. "What is the point of creating a new world if you keep the worst aspects of the old one?"

Beside him, Inger shrugged and said apologetically, "I don't know." She herself was steeped in a post-diluvian subterfuge.

Cole continued on this theme for a while. As he spoke he studied a framed print of an abstract painting on the far wall. It looked as if in the original a kind of landscape had been created using torn fragments of gold and silver leaf. He became distracted. He turned to Inger to see if she was still paying attention only to discover that she had fallen asleep. Juxtaposed over her slumped form was that of Shaharazad, her blue light as intoxicating as ever.

Cole wondered how long his friend had been there and if she knew about Captain Nemo and his submarine. "Of course, you know," he said to her. "Nothing is hidden from you. All my failings, past and future, are known. That is why I feel so at ease in your company."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (August 22, 2004, Urumado, Kabukicho, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 6, 2020
This late in the year, the sun did not rise until nearly nine thirty. Therefore, though Arne returned to the house at five o'clock, there remained several hours of darkness, during which all three took refuge in sleep. In the front room, Cole dreamt of the event that Arne had promised. The authorities desired to see for themselves that which Arne had alone witnessed. Consequently, later that same day Cole would be delivered to the medical school in Bergen, where cameras were being set up in a surgical theater to capture the procedure, just as he had requested. As he lay on the couch, Cole wondered whom they had found to volunteer their memories. Likely it was another old man or woman, no longer able to consciously express their wishes. Cole regretted taking from them the control of their own destiny, but what guilt he felt paled in comparison to the immense store of remorse, which had already accumulated within him over the past year. Soon, his role in the fifth and final step of the planetary migration would be complete. He would have fulfilled his obligations and be due his reward.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-7 (August 22, 2004, Urumado, Kabukicho, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 7, 2020
Arne drove to Bergen with Inger in the passenger's seat. Cole sat directly behind her. She seemed to have applied a scent that she did not normally don during her shift at the medical facility where he had been held. He imagined that the three of them were headed, not to a demonstration of alien demands, but perhaps to a winter picnic. Outside, a chill was in the air but, thankfully, the skies were clear. "Did you remember to bring a bottle of wine?" he asked cheerfully from the back seat.

Arne glanced over his shoulder. His beleaguered expression conveyed simultaneously surprise, dismay and annoyance.

"Try to cooperate," Inger encouraged him. "It's a short drive."

Cole thought of an ideal way to pass the time. "Can you tell me about your wedding?" He wanted to share in the recollection of joy from that happy day.

Inger turned fully around and glared at Cole, as if he had touched a sore point with her. "We are not yet properly married. Our wedding was postponed by the apocalypse."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (August 8, 2004, Fylkingen, Stockholm, Sweden, digital files)

December 8, 2020
The surgery room possessed an observation auditorium, sealed off by a wall of glass. The stage, such as it was, glowed with a clinical, fluorescent light emanating from many directions and leaving no shadows. Cole stood with Arne and Inger at the edge of the room, just inside the door. From this vantage point, he observed the front row of seats occupied entirely by cameras and their operators. The subsequent rows were filled with additional observers. No doctors nor any other personnel were present in the operating room. From a door in the wall opposite to Cole, two orderlies wheeled an elderly woman into the center of the room, then left the same way they had entered. To Cole's surprise, the woman was awake. Cole experienced a modicum of relief that they had found a willing volunteer. Her hazel eyes sought out his own. He sympathized with her because, like him, she had agreed to participate in a process, of which she could have no genuine understanding.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-6 (August 8, 2004, Fylkingen, Stockholm, Sweden, digital files)

December 9, 2020
Beneath the harsh light, Cole approached the old woman and stood beside her. Her long, untended hair formed a gray mat over the pillow. She appeared very much at the edge of death; her pallid skin sagged in the hollows of her cheeks. In a frail voice she whispered something to him but he could not understand her due to the language barrier. She appeared exhausted by the mere effort of uttering a few words. Cole patted his chest and said his name, which induced the woman to whisper, "Synnøve." The syllables were unfamiliar to Cole and, for a moment, he thought he heard his mother's name. The old woman must have detected his confusion for she repeated herself, "Synnøve." Cole gently clasp Synnøve's right hand in his own hands. He issued no parting words of comfort for two reasons. First, he did not wish to alarm her by saying something in a language that she could not comprehend. Second and more importantly, he understood no better than she the final act that she was about to endure.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (July 30, 2004, Penguin House, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 10, 2020
Cole stepped back and invited the diluvian knights to claim the memories of Synnøve. Although captured on many cameras and viewed repeatedly, their arrival defied description. The transition of the space that the eight bodies came to occupy was both instantaneous and gradual. They stood where moments before they had not stood, though it did not register with the physical senses as a change. Rather, it seemed that they had been there for some time awaiting Cole's signal. Perhaps it could be crudely likened to a transparent prism, which had diverted light from their position, until a slight rotation revealed their presence.

In any case, without fanfare, they surrounded the gurney as one and adopted the same configuration as they had on the previous night and for uncounted years in the past and as they would on Earth for as long as they remained. Without external sign, Cole rejoiced that the majestic visage of the aliens, bearing greater likeness to a sea anemone than any other earthly creature, was finally unveiled to the world at large. In a few minutes of static footage, they claimed the memories of Synnøve. When the prism returned to its previous orientation, the diluvian knights were no more present than the pulse of life in the body of the old woman.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 1 (June 5, 2004, Carre Bleu, Poitiers, France, digital files)

December 11, 2020
Before he left the hospital, Cole was ushered to a small room for an unexpected interview with Synnøve's daughter, a grandmother herself of nearly sixty years. In quiet but stern terms, she asked for Cole to explain to her what had just happened to her mother. Her English was not as crisp as that of Inger and Arne but he had no difficulty in comprehending her request.

Cole could provide no intelligible explanation. Instead he advised her, "I think you should send Captain Nemo away." Although his words were misunderstood and, as a result, poorly received, his intentions were good. He was afraid for the future of the refuge on the Scandinavian peninsula. He feared that the missiles bearing nuclear warheads on board the submarine violated the terms by which the area had been selected as a refuge. He was not certain that the diluvian knights might prefer to have only a single, nuclear-free sanctuary.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-3 (June 5, 2004, Carre Bleu, Poitiers, France, digital files)

December 12, 2020
On the drive back to Mathopen, Cole was astounded that he retained his freedom. He thought surely he should have been seized by powers with greater claim to authority than his current team of almost husband and wife care-takers. Certainly, he had expected to be thoroughly questioned regarding his knowledge of the aliens, once their presence was made broadly known. That such an interrogation did not come to pass only served to convince Cole that he was participating in some sort of meta-living experience, which did not entirely coincide with reality.

Still, he could not deny that he relished being in the aura of love that existed between Arne and Inger. Even as they conversed in Norwegian in the front seat, trying to make their own sense of the diluvian knights interest in the memories of mankind, Cole experienced a vicarious joy. Perhaps, it could be argued that the apocalypse was not without redemption if the ecosystem of the world could be saved from further damage while relationships such as theirs could yet thrive.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (June 3, 2004, Emmetrop, Bourges, France, digital files)

December 13, 2020
The fundamental premise of zero population growth is that, on an average basis, the rate of births is equal to the rate of deaths. The actual numerical value of that rate depends only upon the size of the population and the average lifespan. For a steady population of approximately eighty million individuals with an average lifespan of roughly eighty years, a million births and a million deaths occur each year. This corresponds to, on average, two-thousand seven-hundred forty deaths per day.

Based on the precedent set in the first two instances, Cole understood that memories were claimed by groups of eight knights. Therefore, the full order of ten thousand diluvian knights could harvest the memories of one-thousand two-hundred fifty individuals at the time of their deaths. Given these straightforward calculations, the total population of the two refuges was more than sufficient to provide all the diluvian knights with two meals per day.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 1 (May 29, 2004, Les Instants Chavirés, Montreuil, France, digital files)

December 14, 2020
When Shaharazad arrived that night, she did not quibble with Cole's calculations but she did take issue with the characterization of the preserving of memories as meals. Without denying that the memories sustained her kind, she insisted that the knights were carefully viewing and reliving the entire recorded history of the individual life, before internalizing it. Cole found himself in an irritable state. "Oh," he said aloud, "if it is like watching a show, then these people are not must any meal but TV dinners." He could not yet tell her what he really wanted from her, although she already knew. Her projected visit terminated shortly thereafter.

On the following day, Cole's mathematics was brought to bear as there were over two thousand reports of the appearance of aliens at the moment of death. Spread across both refuges, some visits transpired at hospitals and several on the side of roads, where automobile accidents had just occurred. We can attribute the discrepancy between Cole's numbers and the total reported accounts to the fact that some deaths transpired without another human witness.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 2 (May 29, 2004, Les Instants Chavirés, Montreuil, France, digital files)

December 15, 2020
Left alone in the house with Inger, Cole sat on the sofa and stared at the print of the abstract landscape of gold and silver leaf. Inger made them both matpakke for lunch, a stack of three slices of buttered bread with a papery cut of cheese between each and a thin film of meaty paste on top. As reports rolled in of alien appearances, she had been tasked with extracting information from Cole. Once he had eaten, she asked, "How long will this last?"

"Until the sun burns out and they leave Earth," Cole answered, abandoning himself to the truth. "Or until the reckless Captain Nemo provokes them with his poison harpoons."

"Captain Nemo?"

"The commanding officer of the Nautilus."

"Do you mean the American submarine that has docked here?" Inger suspected that Cole very knew that the vessel was not called the Nautilus, nor its captain Nemo.

"I must go back to the island in the marsh, where you found me." For the remainder of the day, Cole pled with Inger to make the case on his behalf that he be returned to Louisiana. Privately, he did not expect anyone to take him seriously without exerting the necessary leverage.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1, 5-6 (May 3, 2004, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 16, 2020
Despite the change in location, Arne maintained his role as attendant during the night shift. To Cole's surprise, Arne took him for a nocturnal walk around the neighborhood, as he had questions to ask and did not want to wake Inger, sleeping in the adjacent bedroom. The cold drizzle did not deter them from venturing outside. The cloud cover cloaked the night sky.

"They are still appearing," Arne said.

"People are still dying," Cole agreed. He added, "But an equal number of people are still being born."

"Is this supposed to be the new normal?"

Cole did not answer. He did not consider it all that different from the old normal, except that there were fewer people now and there was a modest adjustment to the last few minutes of living. Cole stopped in the darkness. "Arne, I beg you, let me go back to the marsh."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-3 (May 3, 2004, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 17, 2020
Cole recognized within himself a chronic dysfunction of judgment. He could not decide whether this post-apocalyptic world was a nightmare or a paradise. He accepted that, rationally speaking, those two concepts should not be simultaneously applied to his experience but he could find no evidence to support an argument against doing so.

Shaharazad came to him in the middle of the night, her pale luminosity as magnificent as ever. It remained possible that the confusion of her herald distressed her but, if so, she gave no sign of it. Cole could not bring himself to lie to her or to anyone else. "I have to return to the marsh," he told her. "If you will not make it happen, I will construct an argument that convinces the humans to take me back." Again, Cole identified the anomaly in regarding his fellow survivors as "the humans", but this recognition did not dissuade him from his desire to separate himself from them.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 4 (May 3, 2004, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 18, 2020
On the following day, Inger allowed her emotions to get the better of her. "They keep coming," she said to Cole, after reading the morning headlines.

"People continue to die," Cole explained without much interest. "Take me to the marsh."

"Why do you want to go back so badly? There's no one left there."

Cole stated the truth without embellishment. "That's where the aliens arrived and where they have chosen to reside. I don't deny that the place has a particular appeal. There is an island in the marsh, where I bore witness to a convocation of all ten thousand diluvian knights."

For a while, Inger examined his face, seeking some additional explanation. Finding nothing, she stated the obvious. "You could stay here, with Arne and I if you liked."

"No," Cole replied. "I cannot. I freely admit that by my own actions I have forsaken my kinship with the human community. Although my acceptance is uncertain, I will seek membership within the order of diluvian knights."

Despite her earlier offer, Inger found an unbidden consolation in the notion that soon the mad priest might flee their home.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 1 (February 13, 2004, Annandale Hotel, Sydney, Australia, digital files)

December 19, 2020
Cole passed the day listlessly and could not ignore the relief in Inger's face when the evening arrived and she handed him off to Arne. She declined to join the two men for dinner at a local pizzeria. Arne promised to bring her home a slice or two.

Apparently, Inger had shared Cole's confession with Arne, because he asked him to verify the location of the alien base in Louisiana.

"Yes," Cole confirmed, though he might not have described it as a base. "On the same island where I was captured by your soldiers, only a short time before all the diluvian knights had been gathered. I have to go back." He looked meaningfully at Arne. "If you can convince Captain Nemo to follow me there in the Nautilus, it could serve two purposes." Without Arne prompting him, Cole added, "First, removing the missiles from the peninsula lessens the chance of collateral damage when the knights decide to eliminate them." Cole did not wait for Arne's to interrupt him but hurried on. "Second, if the submarine follows me to Louisiana, it would be in range to quickly strike if the need arose. But a certain hit would require that I summon them from the water. That's another reason to get me back to the marsh."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 2 (February 13, 2004, Annandale Hotel, Sydney, Australia, digital files)

December 20, 2020
Later in the night, Arne produced a bottle of akvavit, not knowing of Cole's propensity for drink. Cole stolidly consumed over half the seven-hundred-fifty milliliter bottle, before Arne put it away. It was some relief to Arne that his ward's drunkenness manifested in a somber placidity that did not wake Inger. Arne, who had drunk far more than normal himself though not nearly as much as Cole, fell asleep on a stool with his head on the kitchen counter at a spot where he had intended to keep an eye on Cole, laid out on the couch, through the doorway that connected the two rooms.

Arne woke hours later to find the pale blue silhouette of Shaharazad stretched out before Cole. The man spoke to the alien in a whisper too soft for Arne to capture the meaning. He wondered what words Cole chose as he revealed to her that he had betrayed the knights and that he was concocting a suicidal pact in which all of their company perished with him in a nuclear conflagration.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 1 (February 1, 2004, Golden Gai, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 21, 2020
A man who has severed the common bond of interest in life can no longer be trusted on any matter. Once the mad priest's fanatic commitment to self-destruction became evident, the civil and military authorities made several rapid decisions. They rushed to seal the submarine and to send it back underwater where it could again elude the deluge, should a subsequent wave be unleashed. They also began arrangements to evict Cole from the peninsula.

"They will transport you wherever you wish to go," Inger said to Cole, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't have to be the marsh." She did not communicate to him that the leaders of the Korean peninsula had also declared their refuge off limits to the traitor, opting to share that information only if necessary.

Cole deigned not to reply, content to breathe in the fragrance of scented soap on Inger's hand. His plans were coming to fruition yet he felt no pleasure in the inexorable progress of his success.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 2 (February 1, 2004, Golden Gai, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 22, 2020
Inger and Arne accompanied Cole to the Flesland Air Station, where a military plane awaited him. While they both knew that the mad priest left them with the intent to die, the tenderness of the parting was mitigated by the nearly continuous reports of the on-going appearances of diluvian knights at the bedsides of the moribund.

A light rain fell but did not provide sufficient justification to explain why Cole, standing on the tarmac, had difficulty telling Inger and Arne apart. He rubbed his face and still they were just two indistinguishable Homo sapiens. He had thought to shake Arne's hand firmly and kiss Inger farewell but, under the present circumstances, opted to kiss them both. Even as his lips brushed their faces, he could not resolve one from the other. The inability to confirm the reality of his actions minimized any feeling of awkwardness, at least on his part.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (January 31, 2004, gymnasium of the former Mikawadai Junior High School, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 23, 2020
When the mad priest reached the mobile stairwell leading into the plane, one of them, either Inger or Arne, ran after him, calling his name. "Cole! What will you do when you reach the marsh?" asked Inger/Arne.

The priest smiled congenially, as if addressing a stranger. "I am not sure," he admitted.

"Don't you care what happens to you?"

A cold wind blew across the runway, buffeting the two speakers and the military attendant standing beside the stairs. In truth, this priest, like many of his kind, was beset by a profound ambivalence. His answer to the human standing beside him accurately conveyed his mindset. "Even as the days grow short, I play the long game, largely because I don't have a vested interest in the outcome."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (January 17, 2004, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 24, 2020
Cole sat quietly with eyes closed, meditating we suppose, during the ten hour flight to the New Orleans airport. None of the several airmen on the plane sought to speak to him and he respected their reticence. Upon arrival, Cole was led to a hangar where he found a familiar helicopter, bearing U.S. markings. It was a matter of less than two hours to inspect the craft and board it. From the sky, Cole surveyed first the city, then the rural coast as it gave way to the tree cover of the swamp then finally the exposed labyrinth of the salt marsh. With the coordinates provided, the pilot was able to bring Cole within sight of the giant, solitary oak tree. "There," he shouted, over the noise of the vehicle, "Put me down there." The vehicle hovered at the edge of the ridge. Cole jumped the last two feet. Although he had specifically requested no supplies, one of the crew members tossed a pack, which contained rations, water, a raincoat and a sleeping bag. It seemed a salve to their conscience and a way to trick themselves into believing that they were not abandoning this man to his death. Before departing, the crewman tossed down a padded bundle, which turned out to contain the Remington that Cole had never wanted and two boxes of ammunition.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-13 (January 17, 2004, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 25, 2020
Unbeknownst to the mad priest, his second calling of a convocation of the full company of diluvian knights fell on Christmas day, a holy day to Christians and pagans alike. Before beginning the summoning ritual, he made a full survey of the marsh from the perimeter of the island. Nowhere did he detect Captain's Nemo eye, enlarged beyond scale by the optics of the periscope. It was a silly thing to even consider; the marsh waters were far too shallow to accommodate the Nautilus and the range of the missiles too great to warrant leaving the depths of the gulf.

The mad priest did not resort to chants in a forgotten tongue. Rather, he plainly implored Shaharazad and the ten-thousand diluvian knights to honor one final time their agreement with their herald, who had faithfully accomplished every task they had set before him. Awash in time, they had no choice but to follow in the steps of the dance to a music that had been performed long ago.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 1 (October 18, 2003, Tonic, New York City, United States, digital files)

December 26, 2020
Their ascension was glorious. As one, ten thousand entities rose from the water, carried aloft by the natural buoyancy of their being. Transformed by the proximity to each extra-dimensional presence, the water abandoned the pretenses of viscosity and gravity. It clung to their forms like shadows cling to the surface of the Earth. The knights donned this finery as ceremonial robes, which accommodated every movement with a perfect fluidity. Their resplendence was amplified by the light of the nearby star, which adorned their cloaks with glittering jewels. As before, they surrounded the island on all sides in a pattern with ten times a thousand points, arranged according to a design whose symmetry was broken by the mere two dimensional area over which it was distributed. In the taking of this planet, each knight had identified a herald, though only one now remained. Shaharazad ascended onto the dry land of the ridge and came to a stop a few paces before the mad priest.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-7 (October 18, 2003, Tonic, New York City, United States, digital files)

December 27, 2020
"I am a diluvian knight," declared the mad priest to the alien.

"You are not," Shaharazad replied, speaking directly to Cole for the first time. "You are just a man and the horror that you feel at the betrayal of your family and your race will not end when you die. You are a lingering, muddled echo of an original, anguished shout issued from a body long since turned to dust. The light that witnessed your actions fled across the cosmos and was captured at the edge of a blackhole ere it could annihilate itself. To be a diluvian knight is to exist, here at the end of time, and garner what nourishment we may from the fragments of these residual recordings, which he have scavenged, manipulated and reconstructed as best we are able."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (September 21, 2003, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 28, 2020
Having communicated to her herald that message, which she had withheld until he had completed his tasks, knowing full well that her tool would become useless thereafter, Shaharazad turned and retreated into the water. She had only left the bank when the mad priest, in a flurry of splashing, leapt forward, reached around her and grabbed hold of her wrist. The other nine-thousand nine-hundred ninety-nine knights bore witness to the act. Because it was obvious that they could have issued a warning, ignoring entirely their knowledge of the future, we are left with the inescapable conclusion that Shaharazad allowed herself to be accosted thus.

It was precisely as the priest had been forewarned--touching her physical manifestation exposed Shaharazad's thoughts to Cole with a clarity and a freedom equal to that with which she had perused his mind from afar. He discovered the terrible secret, which the hermit had refused to divulge.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 3-5 (September 21, 2003, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 29, 2020
There is consciousness in the record kept by starlight but there is terrible degradation. The vast majority of lives cannot be retrieved. Perched like avid, ravenous anglers just beyond the rim of the sinkholes of time, the diluvian knights engaged in a meticulous process to capture every life possible. In their filtering process some lives (about one percent) were reconstructed without excessive difficulty. A few (about one in a million) required more extensive efforts to preserve.

Because these ratios matched those well known to Cole, one percent preserved in the peninsular refuges and one in a million scattered about the Earth, he perceived the truth. It didn't hurt, we suppose, that he had experienced, since his birth, a sensation of unreality, though that predilection may well have originated in an ordinary, inauspicious imbalance in brain chemistry.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, track 1 (September 20, 2003, Mesar House, Ohashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

December 30, 2020
To be a herald of the diluvian knights was to be a semi-autonomous memory charged, first, with identifying patches of concentrated space where other related memories had experienced only minor deterioration. Subsequently, a herald broadened the search to seek out individual memories more sparsely distributed. A simulacrum with a tinge of ingenuity, Cole had accomplished his task well.

"If I cannot join your number, then devour my memory as you do the others." These words Cole did not speak, for the touch of Shaharazad had already revealed her reply.

As is generally the case in physics, the mere observation of a phenomenon perturbs the artifact. Greater interaction results in more significant alterations. As a herald, subject to no small tampering, Cole was no longer an authentic memory. An unpalatable, contemporary reproduction, his place in the diluvian knight's storehouse of memories would be an affront to the otherwise honest narrative of Earth's inhabitants.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (July 19, 2003, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 31, 2020
How does the story end? A man stands alone beneath an oak on a high ridge surrounded by an expanse of salt marsh. He is waiting to be claimed by someone or something. The alternatives, while finite, are diverse. Perhaps, the diluvian knights reconsider, adopting him as their ten-thousand and first member, though the probability of this event is infinitesimally small. Perhaps, Captain Nemo obliterates him in a nuclear fury, a much more likely scenario. Perhaps, no one comes to the island but the alligators, who chase the priest into the tree, where he remains until he is as thin as a threadbare shirt billowing on a laundry line in the gulf breeze. Perhaps, alerted by the sound of the helicopter, Gabe comes to collect Cole from the island, as he promised he would. All of these contradictory endings are equally insignificant and all materialized or failed to materialize at the same time.

We are a lingering, muddled echo of an original, anguished shout issued from a body long since turned to dust.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-7 (July 19, 2003, Jerry Jeff, Nishi-Waseda, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)