Begone the Dark Such is the power of the power When she was little, Priss used to hide under the covers of her bed. She did not do this because she was afraid of the dark. On the contrary, she _liked_ the dark. The dark helped her sleep, and since sleep was an escape from the reality she so detested, the dark was her friend. The tranquillity, the stillness darkness offered was for her a relief in itself. In winter, when it was cold and she got an extra blanket, the obscurity underneath became so complete she could almost touch it. She used to extend her hand, almost expecting to feel the pressure generated by what seemed a tangible blackness. Yes, little Priss liked the dark very much. As she grew up, however, the magical quality of this ethereal friend began to wane. Reality eventually improved. She stopped hiding under her covers, no longer did she try to caress the intricate nothingness. Perhaps, she thought, that's why the dark was punishing her now. For no matter how much she immersed herself in its blackness, comfort didn't come, tranquillity eluded her, and sleep was no longer an escape. And yet she didn't know what else to do, and so she continued hiding in the dark... --- "Do you know what happens when a star dies, Nene?" "Don't flatter yourself, Priss!" "No silly! I mean the stars in the sky, you know what happens to them in the end?" "Sure, it depends on their size..." "Ahem, well, yeah, I suppose _you_ would know. Anyway, I read about it today. The small ones, like our sun, kinda just grow a bit but later they simply collapse into a small planet..." "White dwarf, actually." "Whatever. The _really_ big ones," continued Priss, looking upwards dreamily, "don't take crap from anybody. Those become supernovae, and when one of 'em pops, the entire galaxy takes notice. If worse comes to worse, that's the way _I_ wanna go, Nene, with a bang..." "That's very humble of you Priss, and rather appropriate, especially when you consider the star's _ultimate_ destiny. After the largest of the stars go supernova, they become black holes!" "And why would that be more appropriate?" "Because you suck!" "Why, you little...!" --- Priss woke up, crying, moist scabs of green mucous covering her upper lip. Her bloodshot eyes vaguely managed to see through the greyish darkness around her. It was day now. Day was grey, night was black. The difference, however, was becoming more and more blurred as time passed. Enclosed in her small trailer, door and windows shut, curtains drawn, she hoped the difference would eventually vanish altogether. How she hoped it would so be! Somehow things went wrong. She was _supposed_ to go first, no? Front line offensive, yes? Hot-headed big shot with the BFGs and the kamikaze attitude, right? Well, it didn't quite work that way. You see, when you're in a team the "kamikaze" part does not (cannot, actually) limit repercussions to that single member. Sometimes it doesn't affect the hot-headed big shot at all, but the one guarding said big shot's back. And when the big shot gets carried away and blows up the power generator on which her backup is working on, well, things get messy. And now the dark didn't like her anymore. One day, through the haze, she thought she heard Linna talking to her, putting something to her mouth. The tea scalded her lips, she instinctively swiped Linna's arm away, and told her to fuck off. She couldn't recall very well what happened afterwards, but she seemed to remember hearing someone crying. Linna must have talked to Sylia, because sometime later she too came, but Priss just wanted to fade away, and of course she told her to fuck off also, because she too was disturbing the darkness. But Priss didn't fade, and the dark refused to offer relief. During yet another sleepless night, Priss decided she would not be able to will herself away. True, she hadn't eaten in many days, but she knew that when she became too weak they'd take her, and would not let her be gone. Wobbly legs carried her outside, where flickering street lamps burned into her weary eyes. She got on her motorcycle, and drove away, headlights off, in search of the dark. --- Wind rushed through her hair, as she left the city and headed towards the mountains. The sky was cloudy, and as she went up little travelled roads she felt herself closer to the dark. Why was it then, that the emptiness within her did not subside? She finally reached her destination. She got off her motorcycle, and headed towards the vantage point, at the edge of the cliff. The energy-starved city before her weakly sparkled through the foggy night. At her feet, far below, an abyss. She looked down, and tightly clenched the bike's keys in her fist, drawing blood. Perhaps if she went into the dark forever it would forgive her. Maybe then the dark would again be her friend. She inched towards the precipice. Priss found herself the target of a bright ray. The motorcycle's headlight illuminated her from behind. The bike must have budged somewhat, turning the light in her direction. This time she found the spotlight unbearable. It didn't seem to make sense at this point, but she felt compelled to turn it off. She suddenly realized she held the keys in her grip. Slowly, Priss turned around, towards the city. It was changing somehow, it was becoming... brighter. The street lamps seemed more brilliant, their light more intense. The headlights of the cars on the street were also radiant, including, for some reason, the parked ones. The ships in the harbour looked like fire flies against the black waters. And the buildings. The buildings were glowing. Every house, every apartment, every lamp in every single office seemed to be burning twice as bright. Empty stadiums suddenly became incandescent jewels, skyscrapers were now towers of pure light. Neon signs and giant screens everywhere flickered to life, computer monitors and televisions turned on, contributing to the brilliant flood. A billion sources of light, shining in unison, as far as the eye could see. MegaTokyo had become a dazzling earthbound sun, burning through the fog, illuminating the heavens from below. "No, not a sun," thought Priss, tears blurring the light, "a supernova." _________________________________ Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping, and the vision that was planted in my brain still remains Within the sound of silence... _________________________________ marco@chinook.physics.utoronto.ca Gunnm: Broken Angel http://128.100.80.13/marco/alita.html