Technocracy: WATER, Part 2

Marin sat in the car with Bellona, as it drove itself through the streets. Her mother eyed her daughter from the corners of her gaze. “So…” said Bellona. “Did you have a fun time?”

“I did,” said Marin, speaking softly. She had drawn her knees up to her chest.

“What did you all do out there, anyway?” asked Bellona.

“Just… hung out. Terry’s got a big backyard, it’s fun to wander around.”

“Ah.”

Marin huffed a sharp breath. “Come on, Mom, I know you want to ask about my hair.”

“Well, it is a bit unusual,” said Bellona, carefully staring at her daughter, that long hair still a dark and dirty brown. “But there’s so much that’s unusual about you lately, darling. I suppose I’ve gotten used to it, a little.”

“Hmm,” hummed Marin. She idly grabbed a long tress of her hair, and fingered it.

That night Marin stepped into the shower, running hot,

And the very first thing that she grabbed was the shampoo.

She shampooed, and scrubbed, and washed; the suds were heavy, white.

And upon the white floor of the shower there was mud,

Mud that ran and pattered, mud that dropped in heavy clumps,

Spattering and thudding heavily upon the floor.

Marin washed, and then she soaped her body up as well,

Then she grabbed the shampoo and she used it yet again.

Once again the mud came running, thudding off her head,

Puttering and spudding downward on the shower floor.

Finally, after much washing, her shower was done.

Steam rose from the shower and it had fogged up the mirr’r.

So when Marin stepped out of the shower, she could not

See completely, but she noticed darkness in the fog.

Eyebrows rising, she reached in and wiped the hot fog off,

And her blue eyes bulged: her hair was still a muddy brown.

“What?” she said, confused, uncertain, peering very close.

“But I thought it all came off…” And suddenly her eyes

Glimmered a faint neon blue and down her forehead ran

Drips and lines of muddy water, onto her clean face.

Marin hastily grabbed up a towel and wiped it off.

Marin sighed, and Marin breathed, and she felt so confused.

She was clean, but still her hair was muddy, as she lay,

Down into the depths of her soft pillow, and she slept.

All her dreams were filled with mud and water, running fast,

Running cold and dirty, and she sank into its foam,

And she sank and then dissolved, but still was in the mud,

Still there, though her arms and legs could not be felt at all,

Still there, still more there than she had ever been before,

Feeling not dissolved at all, but present and alive.

She woke sharply up as morning sunlight streamed into

Her room. She looked downward. Her pillow was stained with mud.

Marin’s muddy brown hair persisted. The days passed, and still she would wash mud from her hair each night and morning, only for the brown color to remain, and for dribbles of muddy water to consistently drip down her forehead, or down her back, muddy drops that pattered on the floor of her room or the floors of the school.

And Marin felt muddy. She still felt that way.

“What exactly does that mean?” asked Terry, one day at Lunch. “What do you mean you feel muddy? What does that feel like?”

“I don’t… know,” said Marin, sitting across from him, cheek in her hand. “Like… my chest. My heart. It’s stuffed up with muddiness. I… feel… in and out. Like something came into me.”

“Came into?” asked Saera.

“Like there’s something in me that wasn’t there before, but is now, but it doesn’t feel… weird?” Marin tilted her head to the side. A rivulet of brown ran down her sallow forehead. “I… don’t know. I mean it does feel weird. It feels different. But not a bad different. A good one.”

Ardo stabbed at his orange chicken with his fork. “Well it’s been almost a week now, fatass. How long do you think you’re gonna feel muddy? How long do you think your hair’s going to stay like that?”

“I’m not sure,” said Marin. “I don’t know.”

“We should head back to my place on Saturday,” said Terry. “That’s where all this started. Maybe we can learn more back out in the woods.”

“Yeah,” said Marin, surging forward, a smile on her face. “Yeah! Definitely! I want to go back. I want to go back to the stream, the pond. I need to go!”

Terry saw her surge of energy and the look on her face. “You’re awfully excited.”

“Oh,” Marin pulled back, and sat back down. “I mean, I really do think we should do it.”

“You got real excited,” said Ardo. “You love that pond so much?”

“I guess…” Marin curled her arms around herself. “I guess I do.”

Another day passed and still she had her muddy hair.

Another day passed and still she dreamt her muddy dreams.

Another day passed and still she felt that muddy feel,

Another day passed, and ‘twas now Friday afternoon.

“See you all tomorrow!” Marin said to her three friends,

As she waved at them, and they in turn all waved at her.

“Yeah!” said Terry, waving, the light glinting in his hair,

Glinting from the growing metallic brown it contained,

As Saera’s hair had, in turn, grown more white by the day,

And Ardo continued to have yet more crimson hair.

Marin waved at them; her mother had not yet arrived,

So as Saera went and got inside Aemelia’s car,

And Ardo’s two aunts arrived to pick him up from school,

Terry, last of all, said, “See you tomorrow,” and then

Walked to where the buses even now were loading up.

So, now, in this moment, Marin stood, all quite alone.

But she did not feel alone, for really, in her heart

She felt kept, and joined to something she could not explain.

Not as though some other person, other mind were there—

Just her, and yet more than she was. She could not explain.

But she felt it, felt it beating deep inside her chest.

“Well there you are.”

Marin curled her lip and arched her eyebrow. She turned, her heavy brown hair swinging weightily as she did. Lindsey and Kimberley were standing there, scowling, just a few feet away. She smoothed out her scowl and put on a smile. “Hello there, girls,” she said, with an arch of her black/blue eyebrows. Actually, these days her eyebrows were more blue than black, more heavily navy than ever.

“Enjoying your life of exile, you weird freak?” asked Kimberley.

“Actually, yeah, I am,” said Marin. “I’m having a whole lot more fun now than I ever did hanging out with you all.”

“And all it cost you was the chance to be the most popular girl in school,” said Lindsey.

“Tch,” Marin grinned, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Flecks of brown water spattered the pavement behind her as she did. “Come on, Linds, I’m still plenty popular. The little people still think I’m cool, and hot, and cute.”

“Nobody who matters does,” said Kimberly, a little too sharply. “We all know what you are now. You can be pretty, you can be rich, you can have your big boobs, but deep down, inside, you’re a freak. That’s why you hang out with those other three.”

“Maybe I’m both?” said Marin with a smile. “Maybe I’m a popular girl and I’m a freak. Maybe I can be one and also the other. Maybe I can have everybody kissing my feet without having to kiss asses, especially kissing the asses of people like you.”

“Ugh,” groaned Lindsey with a roll of her eyes. “You are fucking insane. Like, I don’t understand. Why can’t you just be normal?”

“I’m not normal,” Marin said. “But who’d want to be? Normal people don’t get things done. Normal people don’t conquer the world.”

“Oh, gosh,” grumbled Kimberly.

“You really are a freak, aren’t you?” said Lindsey. She marched up to Marin and poked her in the shoulder. “It’s not even deep down. It comes out right away. It always came out and I just didn’t pay attention enough to see it.” Lindsey’s cruel eyes sparkled down at the shorter, younger girl. “You are a freak. You fit in with those other three because you’re just like them. You are one of them. You are a freak. You are.”

Are—

Am—

Marin gasped, and her eyes shone neon blue, gleaming brightly, and Lindsey shrieked and recoiled backwards in shock and fear.

“I am.” Marin patted her hands all over herself. “Not just controlling. Not just having power… or whatever. I am. I am.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” snarled Kimberley.

“You all helped me figure something out,” said Marin. “Thanks. That’s the last thing I need from you, but I’m glad you gave it to me!” Marin flashed them a brilliant grin. A car horn honked. Marin turned. “Oop, that’s my Mom. See you never again!” And she turned and ran, heavy brown hair billowing behind her.

And that night, her dreams were again watery. But the water was clear.

“Have a good time, Marin!” said Bellona, the next morning, a little more than an hour before noon. Marin slid from the seat of the self-driving car. She was wearing a white turtleneck sweater and deep violet moleskin pants. The sun was shining overhead, and the sky was a clear, cold Winter blue.

“Sure will, Mom!” said Marin. Her heavy brown hair swung about her, spattering the walk of Terry’s house with dribbles of brown,

As her mother’s car drove off, though, Marin stopped, and glanced

Down onto the concrete where the muddy drops had fell,

And she twitched her eyebrow, and the drops were quickly gone,

Disappearing faster than they normally would have.

A car pulled up, and Marin raised her head. Saera slid from the seat. “Hello,” said Saera, seeing her friend. Saera was dressed in a warm red sweater, and wore blue jeans.

“Hey there!” said Marin. “Hey there, Ms. Alhimov!”

“Hello, Marin,” said Aemelia. “You all have fun, all right?”

“We will,” said Marin. She flashed a dazzling smile. “We definitely will.”

“Oh, good!” said Aemelia, smiling. “So nice to see you in good spirits, Marin. You kids have fun!” And the door of Aemelia’s car closed, and it drove away.

Saera turned and arched a white/blonde eyebrow. “You certainly do seem quite happy. More than you have been in a week.”

“Well I am,” said Marin, sparkling sapphire blue eyes wide and bright. “I’ve figured it out.”

Saera tilted her head to the side. “What? What have you figured it out?”

“It. Everything. I feel it. I know it. It’s inside.”

“I—”

“Yo!”

Both girls turned. Ardo stood at the corner of Terry’s house, wearing a heavy navy sweater with suede elbow patches. He was also wearing dark orange pants.

“Where the fuck have you guys been?” he asked.

“What’s the matter?” asked Marin. “Impatient?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Ardo with a roll of his eyes. “Aren’t you?”

Marin drew in a breath. “Actually, I am,” she said, quietly. And much louder she said, “I am! Let’s go!”

“There you guys are,” said Terry, coming around the corner of his own house. He was wearing jeans and a thick brown sweater, along with his usual field jacket. “You ready?”

“Yes. Yeah! Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” And Marin vaulted forward, booted feet digging into the dirt as she almost ran towards the two of them, and past them, towards the vast expanse of Terry’s backyard that started only just beyond the edges of his house.

“Whoa!” said Terry, turning as she vaulted past him. “Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing!” Marin was already moving the way they had gone last weekend, down the edges of the ravine, as the trees rose tall and dark with their dead and empty branches, overhead. “I’ve figured it out!”

“What?” asked Terry.

“That is what she said to me,” said Saera, coming up alongside him. “I am still not sure what she means.”

“Come on, let’s catch her before she does something dumb,” said Ardo.

All three of them moved into the trees and the ravine,

Down into the forest where the branches rose above,

Down to where the clear cold stream went flowing on its way.

Down they followed, Marin still quite visible ahead,

Though she still preceded them, and walked at brisker pace.

Then she went and moved and turned, and they all knew at once

That she’d headed towards the pond, where they had been last week.

They all simultaneously walked a little more

Quickly, picking up their paces on the dirty path.

And they came, and Marin stood there, at the cold pond’s edge.

It was placid, silent, clear, and cold, with muddy depths.

And Marin stood there and sighed, and breathed, and as she did

There were ripples in the pond that all of them could see.

Saera saw that all the ripples timed up with her breaths—

That the pond made ripples at the rate that Marin breathed.

Saera saw this, and she said, “The pond responds to you.”

“Yes,” said Marin. “Yes, it does. It does ‘cause we’re the same.

I am it and it is me. It came into me some,

And I took something from it, though I didn’t mean to.

So I need to give that back now, but I think it will

Give me something else in turn—the thing I’ve tried to find.”

“What do—” and then Terry stopped his talking, and he gasped

As Marin put out a foot, and stepped onto the pond,

And it held her weight, and then the other foot came on,

And Marin walked on the surface of the water there,

Walking on the water, and the ripples of her feet

Gleamed a brilliant neon blue amid the pond’s dark face.

“Marin,” whispered Saera, gazing, staring huge at her,

Staring at her friend as she walked out onto the pond,

Walked until she reached the middle of it, and she turned,

And she turned to them and said to them, “I’ll be right back!”

And she winked and then she burst—into a wat’ry splash.

Her body erupted into a great water gush

That fell to the pond and was lost quickly in the depths,

Splashes fading rapidly as Marin disappeared.

“Oh, fuck, not again!” cried Ardo, and he started to

Jump forward—but a soft, gentle hand touched on his arm.

“Whoa, what?” Ardo said, and turned. It was Saera’s pale hand

That had touched his arm. “Aren’t you afraid?” he asked her then.

“No,” said Saera. “Not this time. It seems to me that she

Knows what she is doing. So I think that I shall wait.”

Terry nothing said, and waited, standing silently.

He glanced down at his arm and he noticed that the light

Had dimmed somewhat; he looked up between the leafless trees,

And saw that the sky above had turned a cloudy gray,

Blocking out the sunshine that had previously shone.

And they stood, and there was silence, and the light was gray.

But then all the pond was shining brilliant neon blue,

Shining, gleaming, blazing brilliant in the darkened air,

And amid this brilliance Marin from the pond arose,

And she looked just as before—no! Not as before! Changed!

All her hair was not brown anymore, nor was it black.

Instead all of it, each bit of it, was navy blue,

All her hair and all her eyebrows, all her body hair,

All of it had turned a navy, turned a marine blue,

And her eyes were gleaming neon blue, just like the pond,

But now they were DRIPPING—from both of her neon eyes

There came streams of neon blue liquid that down her cheeks

Ran like tears, but more than tears, a much heavier flow

Of neon blue liquid, shining, gleaming, blazing bright.

And amid the blazing neon radiance she smiled,

And she said, “Hi guys! I’m back! It turns out I was right!”

“Marin. Marin!” Saera said, she gasped, she flinched, amazed.

“Marin! I cannot believe this! I cannot!” she said.

“Wow,” said Ardo, whispering, his red eyes wide in shock.

Terry gasped and shook, and trembled, to behold the sight,

Feeling in his chest that he was seeing something great,

Something that was not meant to be seen by human eyes,

Something that was meant for higher eyes, and higher souls.

But he pushed these thoughts aside, and then to Marin said,

“What were you right about? What’s the thing you figured out?”

Marin grinned, her bright white teeth flashed like her neon eyes.

“I AM Water. I don’t just control it. I am it!

I am it and it is me, we are both one same thing!

All the water everywhere is me, and I am it!

I don’t just control it or command it from outside.

I can make it do the things I want because I’M it.

That’s it! That’s the truth! That is the thing I’ve tried to find!

I AM Water, Water IS me, we’re both the same thing!”

Marin grinned. “I can control all water everywhere

And it’s just like moving my arm, or my foot, or hand.

It is all the same, because all water comes from me,

And I come from it. We are inseparable, whole!”

“But that’s bullshit,” Ardo said, and growled, and bared his teeth.

“You’re just a human, you had a mother, and a dad.

You can’t just BE Water. You’re only a human being!

And you can’t just make the water do all that you want.

There have to be limits—” Marin smiled, neon eyes

Squinting as she hugely grinned. Then she raised her right arm

And she twitched her right fingers, and suddenly there was

Thunder in the sky above, and as the other three

Glanced upwards, they felt the patter of the first raindrops.

“No way,” Terry whispered. “No way. I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Ardo said, and glanced up at the sky.

“No, no way, that can’t be YOU—” and then the rain fell down

Fell in heavy torrents, great gray sheets of heavy rain,

Soaking them all, drenching them all, as there Marin stood,

Stood upon the pond that still glowed brilliant neon blue,

As her eyes glowed also neon blue, and those blue tears

Continued to shine, neon, as they dripped down her cheeks.

“I AM Water,” Marin said. “And the Water IS me.”

And the rain kept falling, falling, pouring from the sky,

Soaking all of them, as Marin’s eyes shone neon blue,

And as the neon blue waters ran out of her eyes,

Running down her cheeks in streaks of neon radiance,

Radiance that glowed and gleamed and shone amid the gray,

All amid the gray of the dark skies that swelled with rain.

And Saera glanced to the side—and then her eyebrows rose.

“Ardo, you are steaming,” she said, and Ardo jerked up,

Glanced upon himself, and to his wonder he could see,

See that his whole body gave off steam, so thick and white,

Steam, and as he thought about it he felt himself grow

Hot—so blazing hot, and now the steam became more thick.

Marin laughed, and as she did her neon-shining eyes

Widened and were bright, and she said: “Well, of course he is!

Fire steams when it gets rained on, and Ardo IS Fire.

So, Ardo, how about you go next? Now it’s your turn.”