The Rising Dawn, # 28— “The Big One”

Gimmick’s masterpiece was nearing completion. This is the one the Sentinels had commissioned him to make. The canvas was covered with glyphs that very few but Gimmick understood. In fact, he knew of only two: these were hirees of the Dawn Society who viewed and deciphered his work. One of them had the job of preserving the glyphs, making copies and spreadsheets that served as keys, and otherwise organizing it into re-usable data. Her name was Beatrix Swory. The other one analyzed the actual structure and meaning of the Force Language (as Gimmick called it), and was in an ongoing process in learning the language and experimenting with what someone other than Gimmick could use it for.

This person was Ryan Goldsting, and though he wasn’t Gifted per se, he was an enthusiastic scientist. Indeed, he and a collection of others, including Parse, were investigating the development of ethereal abilities acquired via applied effort, rather than inherited Gifts.

They, or rather he, was making headway. After spending three hours copying and pasting Gimmick’s glyphs he appeared to create a thundershower in Rook City, where they resided. However, there was no way to say “Rook City” in Gimmick’s Language, but you could say ‘in this land where I currently reside’.

It was four days before the thunderstorm happened, and there was some doubt if the Language had anything to do with it. Beatrix, however, was convinced that it had been a success.

“Say, Gim,” said Dr. Goldsting, “just a few questions for you today.”

“Can I have spicy tacos for lunch?”

Goldsting laughed, “Of course you can. But in the meantime…” he gathered himself, “can you tell me more about the history of the Language? Someone reported there wasn’t always grammar or pronouns. Just a stream of consciousness.”

“Sometimes, it’s more powerful that way.”

“Really? How so?”

Gimmick sighed.

“It hurts more.”

Goldsting conveyed concern. “I hope it doesn’t hurt, Gimmick. We don’t want you to suffer just because you love us.”

“I’m getting paid.”

“Well, still…” he pushed up his glasses, “Why does it hurt?”

“It’s exercise. I have to practice using the Force.”

“Ah, the Force. For all we know, that’s what it is.”

Goldsting and company knew it to be ether. But that, too, was a made-up name.

“It doesn’t hurt like exercise, though.”

“What does it feel like?”

“When I do it too long, all I can think about is my bullies.”

Doctor Goldsting frowned.

There was silence.

Then he said, “Gim, do you get stronger after using the Language makes you tired?”

“I get stronger every day. But I have to take a day off to see Yahtzee, and maybe Gamer.”

He smiled a bit. “Well, hurray, both ways.”

Wraith conferred with Goldsting concerning The Big One: the art project that would guarantee the victory for the Dawn Society.

“Are there enough— glyphs, right?”

“Yes, or runes,” he pushed up his glasses, “The Big One is quite unlike the others. Twenty new glyphs were fabricated for its completion, and from what I can tell, it proceeds just like an actual language.”

“He’s only fourteen. What if his syntax is…”

“—Off? Well, the exact science of how it works eludes us, but its full potency is tied to its master, little Brandon.”

“Is that… reliable?”

“Apparently, his biggest plague, the plague of mice in Australia, was simply a raw collection of runes. Or glyphs. Anyhow, he knows enough about syntax that the Language serves his whim.”

“That’s a lot of uncertainty.”

“Well, there is, in fact, ether poured into his art. And they’re like living things. If there’s a syntax error, it’s like the Force just sees it as a typo.”

“And you call that science?”

Doctor Ryan Goldsting shrugged, “We’re in no man’s land. We apply the sciences, but it’s organized around something special.”

“True enough,” said Wraith, “and there’s enough glyphs to reach our goals?”

“He has more glyphs than with the mouse plague, and they’re now a coherent language. Whatever happens, it will be very powerful.”

“And reportedly, you were able to replicate his Gift?”

“Not quite. I was exhausted when it was finished, Gimmick had to craft missing runes I intended to use, and unsurprisingly, Brandon Shelver is the one that has a knack for it.”

“But that storm was you?”

“Nothing’s for free. There isn’t much tactical value in a storm, and if you want to do something really special, you need to be trained. I’m experimenting with creating a birthday present for Beatrix, but gaining wealth throws a monkey wrench into the whole Force Language system.”

“Duly noted,” said Wraith.

At length, it was ascertained that though Gimmick’s Gift could not bring instant victory for the Dawn Society, the Rising Dawn Canvas was nearly completed, and its power was real. Philosopher opined that Fate was woven into the fabric of the Language, and though the Canvas was a focus of its power, it would be up to their number to see it through.

Wraith asked why they needed the Canvas if it was Fate, either way. Solomon answered that their futures could be controlled with Brandon’s Gifts, but if they became complacent or took short-cuts, their victory would be empty. That, she replied, would never happen.

Meanwhile, Shelver would intermittently dawdle on the Dawn Canvas, making side projects for the things that he liked. One was for Gamer, and he wanted to see more of the Gamerverse. He had created a show about reptiles from one finished canvas, and right now he was making one to attract a beautiful woman. Brand still wanted a knock-out wife, and he’d keep all his children out of public schools. He wanted all their lunches to be paid for, and they’d help him make a franchise bigger than Pokemon. But in the meantime, duty called, and in the next week, he’d be putting the finishing touches on the Dawn Canvas.