So what is this, you ask? It's simple. This is my very own Bet. Except I'm not betting anything.
In other words, it's a repository for everything I do that doesn't fit under one of my other series, and that
involves Ranma.
And there's an overarching storyline, too. Which I might even get around to filling out. In my Copious
Free Time, like.
Anyway.
This is the first part of the framing story.
Disclaimer: The situations and characters depicted in this
fanfiction may or may not be drawn from sources copyrighted
by other people than myself. I make no claim on those which
aren't mine.
This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/
Release 0.1 (Oct. 4, 1999)
------------------------------------------------------------
Shadow Lurker Productions presents
Ozymandias
Prologue One
I Met a Traveler, From an Antique Land
------------------------------------------------------------
It wasn't fair, he thought, and it wasn't his fault. Why did
everyone always assume that it was? He hadn't asked for any
of it.
It wasn't even as though there was anything unusual about
it, anymore.
Someone would say something, or one of the girls would do
something, and then everyone would expect him to take a
side. And everyone would expect him to take _their_ side.
And when he couldn't take everyone's side at once, everyone
would start yelling at him. And if he tried to take just one
person's side, that person wouldn't be grateful or helpful
at all.
And everyone _else_ would act as though _he_ had betrayed
_them_.
Did any of _them_ ever take _his_ honor into account? Did
anyone ask what _he_ wanted? Did _anyone at all_ _ever_ take
_his_ side?
No.
It just wasn't just. Not just at all.
At last, he stopped pouting, and stood up from under the
bridge. Looking up into the sky, he watched the last, fading
rays of the setting sun. At least that was pretty.
"If only," he said, "there was a little ...."
------------------------------------------------------------
The being had many names and many faces, but only one
nature, and that nature was both singular and immutable. It
was neither male nor female, but most considered it to be
one or the other, depending on their own prejudices and the
name by which they addressed it. For the purposes of this
story we will call it Anansi, although we might just as
easily say Raven, or Coyote, or Kitsune, or Ti Malice, or
the Stone Monkey.
------------------------------------------------------------
They lay face down on their beds and sniffled into their
pillows.
It just wasn't right. It wasn't _fair_.
It wasn't as though they needed all _that_ much.
Alright, maybe Ranma had some kind of problem with _saying_
"I love you." Maybe so. But each knew he _did_ love her, or
at least she thought so. What was so hard about showing it,
a little.
Alright, so there were the other fiancees. There was an
honor issue. Fine. But it couldn't be all that hard just to
indicate his support, could it? Just to let everybody know
where they stood?
They were _trying_ to do the right thing, why couldn't _he_?
Each turned over, and regarded the ceiling a little
bitterly.
"All I want is ....", they muttered.
------------------------------------------------------------
Those who consider his nature poorly often say that he is
mischievous, or that he is a power of cleverness or common
sense. Those who have any actual awareness of the nature of
things know differently. As are all the Greater Powers,
there is one thing that Anansi, and Anansi alone, can do and
do to perfection, and it is this: of all beings created,
only Anansi _knows_, without question, that all he does will
end up creating perfect justice. For somebody. Eventually.
If you ask him politely, he may fulfill your dearest wish.
Or, even if you _don't_ ask him politely, for that matter. A
kind or merciful being with this ability would assure that
it was rarely used. But Anansi, like all beings, must obey
his own nature most of all; and while many attributes are
included within it, kindness and mercy are not among them.
------------------------------------------------------------
Alone in their separate places, they sat and rubbed their
bruises and nursed their injured pride.
It wasn't fair, they each felt. It wasn't right.
Couldn't she _see_? Didn't she _know_?
How did that loathsome Lothario _do_ it, anyway?
What made _him_ so special?
Didn't each of _them_ work harder, each thought, to please
her? To show her that she was appreciated? To win her favor?
(Tatewaki thought about _their_ favor, the lovely tigress
and the beautiful Osage no Onna. But you knew that already.)
Weren't _they_ deserving of _some_ attention after all this
time?
Weren't they better fighters than _him_?
Weren't they more righteous? Didn't they train harder?
Weren't they as clever?
And did it help? No. And why?
Because _he_ was lucky, that was why. Pure luck. _Unworthy_
luck.
That was all it was.
Why couldn't _they_ get some luck for a change?
"Why can't I get ...." they sighed, in unison but alone.
------------------------------------------------------------
For this reason, and for several others, no sensible and
aware being will willingly get anywhere near him; but,
fortunately for Anansi, he has many names and many faces, so
that he can keep himself company instead. Most of the time
he does not do so, for he has his duties, and it is not in
his nature to scant them. Even so, he, too takes a rest,
from time to time, and gathers all of his selves somewhere
hidden away from anyone, and builds a campfire to gather
around, and spends a little while just chatting with
himselves, shooting the breeze and listening to his stories.
It is said, by those whose business it is to say such
things, that at this time it is vitally important that you
_not say_ anything like "It's not fair!" or "That's not
just!", lest he hear you in all of his multiple faces and
names, and descend upon you to teach you what justice is
actually like.
Above all other things you must not ever, _ever_ say the
words "I wish."
------------------------------------------------------------
It just wasn't fair. There was no other way to look at it.
Weren't they old (well _older_, at least?)?
Hadn't they striven all their lives to learn their Art?
Weren't they wise and learned?
Hadn't they spent of their own energy, time and life for
_years_ to trin the young ones?
Didn't that entitle them to some respect? Some rest and
relaxation, after all this time?
(Genma also wanted food, Happosai also wanted panties. But
you knew that, too.)
And did they _get_ what they deserved? Yeah, right.
It just wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.
"If I had just one wish," they moaned, "I'd wish for ...."
------------------------------------------------------------
Fortunately for the many worlds, the times of peril are
brief and widely separated from each other. While drawing
Anansi's attention is certainly perilous at any time, there
are many worlds, and many, many people on those worlds; many
of whom, at any given time, will likewise be kvetching about
the unfairness of it all. Only if Anansi is passing by at
_just that moment_ is any one of those at risk.
But when Anansi takes his brief vacation his senses range
over the worlds far and wide, so that he can tell his
stories. Those times are very dangerous. But they are well
marked by signs and portents, for those with eyes to see,
and Anansi takes his vacations but seldom.
------------------------------------------------------------
Once, there had been a great king, whose only wish, waking
or sleeping, had been that all should know beyond doubt how
great he was.
Once, he awakened from a troubled sleep at a time that later
study would conclusively indicate to have been exactly
wrong. Looking up at the sternal, glittering stars, he had
sobbed over the fact that somewhere there might well be
people who had never heard of his name and glory, and worst
of all, never would.
"It's not fair!," he had shrieked, "If only I could insure
that _everyone_ would one day know of my name!"
Far away, around his campfire, Anansi pricked his ears, and
began to laugh.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'
- Percy Bysshe Shelly
------------------------------------------------------------
We all _say_ that we wish we could have justice. But then,
we say a lot of things. It may be that Anansi's purpose is
to remind us of how limited our understanding really is. Or,
it may not.
One day in every thousand years. One hour in that one day.
Be careful what you wish for.
------------------------------------------------------------
"... fairness. Just my due, that's all. What I deserve. Not
a lot."
"If only Pops hadn't screwed up my life when he was training
me. If only he'd done it different."
"If only those other girls didn't hound him. If only it had
gone a _little_ differently."
"If only he was gone. Then I'd have no problems."
"If only they recognized how much they owe me. If only they
knew how much they needed me."
"Why can't there be a little justice in the world, anyway?"
------------------------------------------------------------
And around his campfire, where the sparks spattered low
beneath the shimmering, glimmering, impassive stars, Anansi
heard. And looked to see. And said, from one face to
another, "You know? This might be ... interesting. I should
look into it."
And nodded, from another face back to the first.
And looked a bit deeper, to see what he could see.
And found that there was a problem. Even Anansi has his
limitations, and places that he may not go. Certain things,
when they have ... momentum ... enough (or value enough to
... others), become unreachable to him. But that is merely a
technical difficulty, and technical difficulties are things
he is experienced in overcoming.
One of his faces reached out and spun a small piece of power
in a particular way. "It will be difficult," one said, "I am
barred."
"Yes," one said, "but still, I am driven to act."
"See," one said, "here and here and here. And especially
here. These places are causal junctions. I can create ...
alternatives."
"Certainly," one said, "but what would that prove?"
"Of itself," one said, "nothing. But see, this junction
shows much promise. I can intervene in person. And if enough
junctions create enough alternatives, that intervention
would go unnoticed."
"And if I act in person," one said, "I might steal a right
from the gods, as I have done so often before."
"Indeed, yes," one said, "for I have a clever plan."
One tweaked a piece of power again, and caused it to change
its shape. If looked at in the right way, it showed many
futures, and many pasts. And the links and pathways between
them.
Around the campfire Anansi nodded to himself. He had a map.
He had a plan. He had the power, and the right to act.
Best of all, he had the knowledge that whatever he did would
come out justly, for somebody. And there's nothing Anansi
likes better than to see people getting ... just what they
deserve.
Across the flickering campfire's flame, he looked himself in
the face. And met his eyes. And smiled.
------------------------------------------------------------
Next, Prologue two.
Yours very respectfully,
Eric Hallstrom, CC, PhD, UBIP,etc.
--
www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/index.html
www.kawaiikunee.com
hallcon@mindspring.com
kawaii@kawaiikunee.com