Called Watson to come
Then Ernestine calls at will
bad cell connections
dropped calls are modern version
Telephone misunderstood
Diamonds sparkly stones
lapidary polish step
diamond dust shines chips
shiny valued dust makes for
better chips for better phones
The Great Truth is Diamond and Readiness.
The Great Lie is Phone and Understanding.
Michel dreams.
On a wide plain, beset by rain, he rides down muddy tracks. His horse is bony and barely holds his weight. He has a magnificent moustache, which flows in the blowing wind. Wind which is blowing the rain in his face. Prudence would dictate stopping and finding shelter, but he was never known for being prudent, even in his dreams. At the horizon he sees another giant waving its arms, threatening any who come across it. He spurs his horse, who ignores him and keeps to its customary walk. Valor he has in abundance. Honor too. But in truth he is no true knight of the realm in any one else’s eyes.
The giants remain at a distance. Perhaps they fear him?
The dream shifts, he sees the same plains with an army at his back. But in the way of dreams, he can’t quite tell if the army is following him or chasing him. The giants remain at the horizon, unwilling to become involved they wave their arms slowly and watch from afar.
The dream shifts again, now he sees the plains from the air as if he is a bird of prey circling the great battle below, waiting the moment to catch some small creatures flushed from their burrows by the clashing armies. And yet, the giants remain at the horizon, still unwilling to engage him even in this guise.
The elements were all there as he had predicted. And yet the meaning remains as murky as the mud through which the armies slog, even in his dream. His words remain burned into his memory.
Through the fifth one and a great Hercules
They will come to open the temple by hand of war:
One Clement, Julius and Ascanius set back,
The sword, key, eagle, never was there such a great animosity.
—Michel de Nostredame (Nostradamus), His Prophecies, Century X, verse 27
Swords and eagles were in abundance, as were the giant frames of Hercules, and the hand of war was making free with the plains and all that lived thereon.
As he dreamed, he knew he’d dreamed of this scene before and never with a sense that he understood. Tonight was no different.
The dream shifts back to the beginning. On a wide plain, beset by rain, he rides down muddy tracks. His horse is bony and barely holds his weight. He has a magnificent moustache, which flows in the blowing wind. Wind which is blowing the rain in his face. And he has no idea why he is being shown this in such great and muddy detail.
The Great Truth is Moustache and Prudence.
The Great Lie is Honor and Valor.
deep intelligence
motivation hidden well
do not know you know
I once again was alone in my office, alone except for the bottle shaped like the skull of my last friend. Wind whistled in the darkness outside the drafty windows, tree branches whipping and occasionally revealing the full moon. The moonlight flickered in the room.
I was slowly making sense of the past few days, and my friend the bottle had been counseling me well. But soon he would be joining his predecessors in the growing heap of empty glass skulls in the corner, and I was going to have to sober up. The truth I was facing was that I should have known that menagerie downstairs wasn’t only what it appeared to be. To top it off, it seems like George was just as blindsided as I. From the way the animals reacted, they all assumed we knew. Facing this truth sober could wait until my transparent friend met his fate.
As I sit, drinking, idly turning cards, I hear a cough behind me.
Turning, I find a curious little man standing just inside the office door. “Didn’t you read the sign?” I asked.
“It says Open.”
“Oh.” I guess the sign and I were having another disagreement about my hours. Or maybe the inanimate objects in my life were taking charge again.
“It also says psychic. I see the crystal. I see the cards. You look like you’ve seen things.”
“I have. I can see things for you. Sit here.”
He sat down and watched as I idly handled the cards. The cards were strangely silent, so I set them aside. The crystal was nearly empty, and I knew from past experience that it would not serve well in that state. We stared at each other for a bit, then I splashed a bit of the skull in a glass and pushed it over.
He picked up his glass, saluted me and the skull, and sipped.
I stared moodily at him. As I stared, his eyes seemed to grow larger. Until they filled my vision. I found I could not look away.
uncanny doll makes
things happen by voodoo your
unexpected will
I sit, drinking nectar from my friend the skull. Alone. The wind whistles outside. The tree branches waving in the wind modulate the moonlight and its shadows over my table. Beams of moonlight are refracted by the irregular crystal and make surprising shapes on the walls in the shadows shapes that almost look like familiar face shapes that form words that vanish as I look at them shapes that whisper in my ears and—
a cursed little doll
sympathetic magic spell
pin it if you dare
I sit at my table, idly turning over the tarot.
The sky outside is calm. An owl calls in the distance, the moon is yet to rise. Even the neon sign outside the window is quiet.
Strangely, the skull before me is empty. I toss it into the corner and reach for a new one, only to find there are no more.
There is a pair of empty glasses on the table.
Pair. Deuce. Two. As in someone else has been here. Who?
Then I notice the note under the second glass.
It reads: “As you fade back in to this reality, Michel, you will remember little of the past few days aside from knowing that it was a profound experience. You survived an interview with The Sphinx, and not many achieve that. The Sphinx is not to be trusted. The Sphinx is to be trusted absolutely. For The Sphinx itself told you that all Sphinxes are liars.”
It does appear as if some time has passed. I wonder what George and the menagerie have been up to. I wonder briefly what Tina has been after, then I recall that I heard an owl. Owls are not common in this neighborhood, or at least weren’t until she showed up at my door.
I’m sure there was someone else here. There was a note—
No note. No second glass. Just me and an empty skull freshly tossed on to the pile in the corner.
Perhaps it was time for Michel to speak prophesy again?
voodoo makes you tell
hidden secrets revealed
things you keep silent
The Great Truth is Voodoo and Intelligence.
The Great Lie is Sphinx and Peace.
Mirrors always lie. The more magical the mirror, the bigger the lie. It starts with the little things. Mirrors reverse everything they show. That small distortion of reality is so small, so subtle, that we take it for granted. But it is still a distortion. Mirrors don’t reflect the reality around you faithfully. Some things in view may appear further away than they are in reality. Again, a small distortion, but still not truth.
Then we come to the bigger lies. The undead may be unseen in mirrors. An over dependence on mirrors for protection, especially magic mirrors that allow vision at a distance or around corners, may allow the undead to approach unseen. If the undead are really there, the mirror has lied by omission.
They appear to be a window into another world populated by people just like us, who do everything backwards. Who in fact are doing everything we are doing, exactly reversed. But how do they know what to appear to be doing so precisely? The people on the other side don’t respect you. They must have some motive, but we don’t know what that is. But it is clear that there must be a powerful magic at work to allow them to mimic so perfectly. And through that magic, the mirrors are watching us.
Mirrors are a window into a shadow realm that would steal our souls and watch us at every turn.
Ordinary windows are a danger of sorts, but at least the world on the other side of the glass is the same world. Windows, with the right magic, can extend a moderate distance to reveal remote locations. But one must always take care to use the magic of transmission and not reflection lest one accidentally invoke a mirror.
Used properly, a magic window is like an invisible tunnel from here to the remote location. Light and images are carried through the tunnel both ways, so one must always use care with where the remote end is placed and how the room at the near end is lit. While it is highly unlikely that a subject at the remote end will spot a properly managed magic window, if mishandled the subjects could watch the watchers. The best techniques involve a change of size and point of view. If the remote end is small, it is less likely to be spotted. If it is placed near the ceiling then it is unlikely to be seen even if it is a little large or if a bright light is accidentally visible through it.
As you train to become a watcher, these things will become second nature to you.
But remember this. You swore mighty oaths before entering into this training, and your failure to abide by them will have consequences. The first rule is that mirrors are forbidden to you. From this day forward you will avoid mirrors. Possession of a mirror as an apprentice will be punished, with severity that increases as you progress in the art of watching.
Yes, the warnings are deliberately scary, and the potential punishments are deliberately harsh. But this is for the best of reasons. You are hear because you have the raw untapped talent. The watch needs talent like yours. In short, the watch needs you.
The Great Truth is Tunnel and Against all odds.
The Great Lie is Mirror and Guardianship.
I will find a way, I’m a cat, and proud of it.
But I’m faced with a dilemma. The twitchy flying thing wants to be caught. But my person wants to stare at the flat thing and poke at the tray with the textured surface. Either way, I’m bored, and my person is slacking off on his job. His job is to entertain me when I’m bored. And I’m bored.
Ooh, look—it twitched!
Pounce!
I’ve got it now. He can’t ignore my success if I bring my prey to him. Perhaps the “gift” will be the suitable hint.
Hmm.
Perhaps I should drag the prize through his line of sight?
Ah, that might have worked, here’s a chance at a scritch between the ears. And a yawn.
Wait! The twitchy thing ran away! Quick!
Chase it! Pounce!
Got it just in time. Time to drag it back to where we both can see it. Maybe it won’t run away this time if we’re watching—Damn!
It ran again! Pounce!
But he’s gone back to staring at the flat thing that is so like a window and yet nothing interesting seems to ever go by. Except me! If I walk in front of it, that is!
The Great Truth is Cat and Love.
The Great Lie is Spatula and Envy.
The Creativity Oracle 