V E S S E L (Part 1)

Giacco returned, finally- he carried with him the spoils of hunt and labor; a carcass hanging heavily on broad and gristled shoulder. Giacco stepped, and the Earth shook and hummed. He spoke:

“It is for you, Hart.”

With that, there was a heave and a thump as carcass met ground. His was a low voice, it rumbled with the roil of Earth and clay. Giacco was a large man- tired, but sturdy and sure to manage. He was apparently hairy- though he wore a thick, grey, rubbery, and pilfered trench coat, still you could see tufts of hair poking out from the dip of the coat. His head was shaggy, he had a beard and hair in every place save for his eyes. He wore decaying shoes or boots, they could hardly be made out, at this point. His ankles were covered by yellow-white socks cut off by the coat.

“Giacco… let me die…”

They were together in the mouth of a jagged and shallow cave, and it truly was a mouth; it had stalagmite teeth, it stretched into an abyss, there was a big rock in the middle that lolled as a tongue does… Hart was splayed there, on the tongue, Giacco just now crossing the lips and into the mouth, the lump of flesh he labored for waiting behind him and near the entrance. Sitting up, slowly, wretchedly, Hart straightened himself into a seated position, so as not to seem too cowardly or meek as he addressed his visitor.

“Giacco-”

-but his voice gave up, and in a spectacular way. The end of that word, Giacco, transformed itself into a heave, a cough, and then into a drawn-out groan, finally ending with more intense hacking and a fetal attitude. A thought flashed in Giacco’s eyes as he watched this fit, and Hart could see the thought, so in no time after the words tried to leave his mouth, Hart was defeated. Hart would not cry, Giacco knew this, but still there was a shared understanding as Hart lay his head back on the tongue, this time his body curling into itself. There was a moment of silence, with neither man looking at or acknowledging the other- Hart with his head pressed to tongue, Giacco with his eye on something near the ground. It took a moment, but Hart, realizing himself, started himself back into a seated position, saying:

“Giacco, if someone comes to check on me, they’ll expect me to be dead by this point,” He finally stopped his fetal position and reached his arms upward, as high as they could go, and then out, stretching and revealing an emaciated, elegant, and twitchy frame. His stomach caved into itself as if it were nothing. Above, the skin of his chest flattened against the cage of his rib, tightening at the sharp and protruding blades of his shoulder which stretched out over whatever little flesh he had on bones-for-arms.

“Has been five weeks since I was left here, Giacco. They’ll come for the body, soon enough. When they find me instead alive and well, they will not just call me Stranger, as already they do- they will also call out Demon.”

Giacco turned around and away from Hart at the word: Demon. Hart could not see it, but the word danced in Giacco’s eyes. Not a moment after turning, Giacco began to walk back to the lip of the cave, slowly, minding his step, as if in thought. Demon. He whispered, his voice almost inaudible as it was in direction with the breath of the cave. Hart heard these words, but he knew they may not have been meant for him:

“They know not the meaning of such Words. I know not. They know not…”

The final sentences were grumbled as Giacco met the carcass at the entrance to the cave, so those words were distant from Hart and almost unknown to him. To Hart’s ear those last words were like wind, almost nothing, yet he felt their meaning because Giacco said them with such weight. Giacco squatted down and towards the carcass, and as he did, he peaked an eye over his shoulder and spoke more directly:

“Minds are knives. I keep mine dull. Theirs are kept sharp. So, I am here, they are there. I would not seek to define you… anyway, you will not let me close to you. I do not know you.”

With that, Giacco removed something from his coat, a weapon, a knife: and so began the arduous process of incising and moving flesh with metal. The carcass was already field-dressed by Giacco, as it was, with no single trace of organ or entrail within the hollow body of the animal. Hart noticed now also the blood on Giacco’s hands, surely from before, whenever it was that he ripped the innards from their place. Still, the skin and the cuts remained on the carcass, so Giacco toiled.

He started somewhere near the legs, awkwardly lifting the body at points to get the knife wherever it needed to be, digging under skin to find his mark. The incisions were precise yet done with a haste that leaned towards lax. Hart had seen this many times, yet still, he could not escape the snapping of tissue as hide was torn from flesh. It did not bother Hart, but it drew his attention in a peculiar and oddly sincere way. Eventually, a cut was made at the tailbone, and Giacco put his knife down, using his hands to tear the rest of the hide off of the meat. The hide did not come off easy: it fought for its place but eventually gave way. Hart looked upwards, now, and away from Giacco.

“The meat gets dirty when you don’t hang it while you do all that. Rocks. Stuff. And your last….. the meat from your last kill still hasn’t dried and it is not cold enough here, anyway. I don’t think the meat is edible.”

Giacco, who had started to lift the carcass, stopped in motion. He did not look to Hart, remaining squat near the body, but reacted in his way:

“I will find berries.”

Hart did not look as Giacco made his way through the stalagmite and back out into the world. He remained, his eyes on fire while tracing the ceiling of the cave, as if with purpose.

***

Hart sat alone on that rock with thought and swirl.

Giacco strode through forest and brush with single-mindedness and quick.

Hart thought of what he was, where he came from, and what to do now.

Giacco thought of only the bush in his path and the sustenance- berries- that may be hidden within.

Hart is a man or a thing condemned by whatever society is left on Earth-

Giacco is a man who abandoned it all.

Hart was supposed to be a gift to this world-

Giacco found some berries.

Hart heard from the settlement-folk where he came from.

The berries Giacco found were poisonous.

Hart was not born of any woman in the town-

Giacco continues his search.

Hart was brought down from a Light in the sky, the settlement said-

Giacco trips, falls, and recovers quickly.

Hart heard that the Light showed itself to be a disc or like a plate as it drew close to ground and as the settlement-folk approached it-

Giacco groans, his ankle sprained and throbbing.

The disc was like a vehicle, it hummed and shone colored and dancing lights, the settlement-folk said-

Giacco stands tall.

From that disc came Hart; so the settlement-folk said.

Giacco continues his gait through forest.

Hart came in the arms of a Stranger and a Thing that was not human-

Giacco spots another bush.

The Stranger dropped Hart, and so he was left with the humans.

There are more berries here.

Hart looked human, felt human

These berries are good, thought Giacco.

Hart cried like a human, smiled like one, truly, he was human

Giacco propped open the pocket of his coat.

Something about Hart was different than the others, still… and in time, he was rejected

Giacco picked the berries, a smile spreading across his face.

Hart got sick, he coughed, he wretched, he contracted illness, the other humans in the settlement did not

These are good berries, Giacco thought.

When Giacco seized, when his body finally and utterly broke, the others broke into panic and fear- they had never seen such a thing

Giacco pocketed the berries, one by one-

When they saw Hart losing control, they rejected him, finally

Giacco cleared the bush.

They took him to the cave, in fear of whatever he might be-

Giacco walked back to the cave

And there, Hart remained.

***

Giacco returned, wordlessly this time and with berries filling his pocket. Hart remained with his eye to the ceiling. Not a word was needed; in that cave, two minds would move in parallel. To Hart, it was odd: he did not know Giacco, not for long and not truly, yet there was an air of familiarity, here in the mouth. Giacco proceeded through the cave, taking the berries from pocket to hand one by one as he walked. Stopping at the rock on which Hart sat, Giacco finally laid the berries out amongst a pile of leaves at the bottom of Hart’s tongue-seat. This proximity finally broke Hart’s concentration, who looked down towards Giacco and spoke:

“Giacco, what am I?”

Giacco sighed, freeing the last of the berries from his palm. When he straightened himself, his head only just reached over the rock, Giacco’s head at the level of Hart’s feet. Still, their eyes met and locked. Giacco spoke:

“Whatever you are, Hart… who am I to say?”

There was a silence, but neither averted their gaze. It was a short pause and then it was punctuated by Hart’s voice:

“Giacco, I don’t believe that you came here for no reason. What am I, and why- why are you here?”

Hart could not see Giacco’s mouth, as it was covered by the rock; still, Giacco’s eyes betrayed the smile forming on his face. When he opened his mouth, his words rang like a laugh:

“Why am I here? I am here because you are. And Hart, what you are- all that there is to say about that, I have said.”

The moment continued with the two looking into the other, their irises dancing and locking. Giacco sensed a seething behind Hart’s eyes: Hart was angry, so Giacco thought, because Hart believes I am not forthcoming with him. I will speak, to alleviate his concern, so thought Giacco. And so, Giacco spoke, and he did so this time with a gentle and inviting tone.

“Hart, truly, I do not know what you are. I know that you are different. It does not matter to me, anyway. I am here because you need care. I have seen animals in my care contract illness, get sick, die. When I first came upon you in this cave, you were shaking violently, you were frothing. You were not yourself, I could see that you did not have control. You know, Hart, I have seen animals do this, too,”

Giacco walked away from the tongue and sat cross-legged some distance from it so that Hart could see him entirely as he continued:

“I was protecting an animal; I was entrusted with its passage from one settlement-farm to another. It was a Wool-beast- these are rare animals and clippings from their coat are highly prized by textile workers. This Wool-beast was a large one, noticeable- hardly after leaving the farm, maybe an hour out, two fang-dogs pounced on me and the beast. Truthfully, two were more than I could handle,”

Giacco shifted at this point in his retelling, though to Hart it did not seem to be in discomfort. Hart could not see exactly what was on Giacco’s mind; at least he could see that this memory was one that Giacco wanted to tell.

“-and I am not a fighter, anyway. The Wool-beast surprised me; it took them on itself and made off fine in the end, too. I helped as much I could, of course, but it was large enough and wooly enough, maybe, so it just shoved the dogs anytime they got near it. One of those dogs peeled off and onto me at some point, after the other had ran- I forgot to mention, I did have a club- and as soon as the dog got near, I clocked it. Right away, it went away, like you did, and it started shaking, with the same froth and spit coming from its mouth, as it was with you. It took to the ground and it would not stop shaking, it wasn’t even making a noise. I was hypnotized, I don’t know why- so, when I saw you, I thought of that dog. Never seen a human move or lose control like you did when I first met you, still, I knew you were just hurting.”

Hart looked away, eyes swelling. Hart was looking to the side, almost defiantly, though it was not just his eyes that led away from Giacco. Hart rotated his entire body subtly so that the alignment the men shared in that moment would be disrupted. The motion was not made to hide vulnerability- ultimately, Giacco was unsure what to make of Hart’s intention. Hart did not see it, but Giacco was smiling a small smile as Hart finished his shifting and began to speak:

“So I am an animal, then? Giacco,” Hart’s eyes and voice were on fire; even without seeing Hart or hearing him very clearly, still Giacco could feel the fire and heat of these words:

“Do you know where I come from, Giacco? I came in the hands of a Beast, Giacco, did you know that? So the town folk told me in whispers when I got older- at first, they told me my mom, my dad, they left and died to criminals or a stupid thing. I believed it when I was young, and I was raised- more neglected- by the settlement as a whole. Lived in the town center, in a kind of… hut, something. I don’t care to tell it, Giacco. At some point, when I was older, whispers I had heard around me my whole life began to make clear sense, they crawled their way into me, and those whispers told me about the Beast or Stranger that brought me, some told me their Ma or Pa or neighbor called the Thing Demon,”

Giacco could not stop Hart, not now. Hart was breathing heavily and he wore the expression of an incredible intensity and focus as he spoke. His neck tensed, his body rocked, his eyes were jumping from the lids and his hands showed white knuckles and a violent shaking.

“Giacco! I am… well, what? What am I? Giacco, do you know what they told me about the Beast? They told me it had devil and huge eyes. They said that it was naked, and writhing, and that you couldn’t even see it, not fully. The people told me it was like their eyes were being played with, and the thing was blurry to their perception, like in a dream-”

Hart began to heave, violence and noise creeping up his throat. After but a moment, Hart stopped himself and continued more passionately than before:

“They told me it had no hands but many different things of different lengths that were like arms, they said it did not seem to have legs and that its body was in the shape of a waterskin and black in color. They said it had a strange and colorless light where its head must have been, and that somehow I came down from this light. They said that, they did, that I just appeared as if from nothing; I rode that light from the Thing’s head until I met Earth. Can you believe that, Giacco? What does that make me? An animal? Demon? What?”

Giacco laughed. It was not a mean-spirited laugh, it was bellowing, ancient, bold, and pronounced. The sound was confusing to Hart; it disarmed him. With the laugh still making in his throat, Giacco began to speak:

“Hart, you are Animal- you should accept this- and you may be Demon, too. Hart-”

As his name was spoken, Hart moved his mouth as if to speak and he shifted his body as if to defend his dignity. Seeing this, Giacco paused his speech and held a hand up while looking gently upon Hart. Acknowledging the weight of the gesture, Hart made way and submitted, and Giacco continued:

“I do not know what you are. You do not know what you are. This is all that there is to say when it comes to that question. Hart, do you understand the plane you were born on? This… Earth, planet, its history is vast. Its people are vast, they were vast. We do not know it, can you imagine? We do not know the history of this planet. None of us do. The stories you hear of some Great War, and the stories you hear of Bombs and Machines… echoes from the past, maybe. Nothing more- certainly not the truth of it, as we all tell it. Do you know how many versions of the same story I have heard?”

Giacco swallows, looks away from Hart, and thinks for a moment. Giacco thought as he spoke, and he thought thoroughly, Hart noticed it now. Hart noticed because Giacco was slipping in a way, there was a passion that finally took his voice as he spoke these words. It was if Giacco was getting ahead of himself, speaking more than he meant to at this moment. Giacco takes a heavy breath, and he goes on:

“I am a traveler, Hart- I have seen things, felt things. From the places I have visited, I have felt and seen wonderful and terrible things- all of these things, beautiful. From the people I have known, I have learned so much and have gained more. However, from the past, I feel cloud and confusion. I do not know why we cling to it, especially when we cannot know it. All we have now is the waste of an old civilization and the ability to make educated guesses about it. Hart, you wretch like an animal and contract illness like one does. You know, Hart, I do not think that is so strange. When I was young, I had always questioned why the animal got sick and died while humans never did. It is quite unnatural, isn’t it? Do you know what happens if a ‘normal’ human eats poisonous berries?”

Hart shook his head. There was a look of controlled anger and defense as if Hart was on the edge of revoking Giacco. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips curled into a look of almost-disgust, yet still he submitted to Giacco’s lecture, and Giacco continued:

“We shit them out clean, full berry. We don’t process it at all. Somehow, what is poisonous to the animal, our bodies reject it wholly. Our bodies know to reject all that is unwell. We do not die with age, as animals do, our bodies do not sag or wrinkle and our cuts heal within minutes. I saw a woman grow back two fingers days after they were taken by a fang-dog. I have always wondered why- why are we painted and made like Gods here, yet still so broken? I have heard that our ancestors built Machines that could speak and move. Knowing this, I have thought about if Nature made us so resilient, or if the ancestor, the Progenitor, whoever came before us… I wonder if they shaped our bodies to be so strong; their medicine must have been miraculous. Your weakness, Hart, the fact you get sick, the fact that you are seemingly dying from the ravages of Earth and nature… it is beautiful to me, Hart. I do not know why, but it is.”

Hart cried

Giacco inhaled

Hart began to scream

Giacco exhaled-

They danced like this for a while