Hunger

Part II - Chapter 31 - Distorted Definitions - Part 2

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Theoye rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, smearing grime and ink. 

I must continue.  I am so close, so very close! And the Mistress will be so very pleased with me when I finish!

His last thought bolstered his spirit and in a rare burst of creativity, Theoye snatched up his notes from his desk.  He kicked at the debris that littered his chamber and cleared a space on the floor.  Dropping to his knees with a wince, he began arranging his research so that he could see everything chronologically.

Every piece has its place.  Every piece has its place.

Every time he leaned forward to arrange a parchment, one of the folds of sagging skin would drag a parchment or scroll out of place.   The fact that he had shrunk to a quarter of his former formidable girth did not even cross Theoye’s mind.  The fact that he largely resembled a skeleton garbed in gelatinous pleats of epidermis had not occurred to him.  The fact that, due to his lack of appetite, he had lost nearly as much muscle mass as fat did not matter.  The fact that he no longer enjoyed eating, or sleeping, and only participated in those time consuming activities when his hands shook hard enough that he could not make notes or he collapsed into unconsciousness due to exhaustion, was not a fact that was capable of crossing his mind.

The only fact that mattered was that he had been given a task by his Mistress, and to fail her would mean death.  Or worse—his Mistress’s displeasure.

Frustration finally caused him to pause and search out a spare tunic.  He quickly bound up the folds skin about his torso, and resumed his frantic efforts.  Finally, after a full turn of the glass, he stood back and evaluated his work, chewing on the stubs of his nearly non-existent fingernails.

There is a connection—I know it! But where?

Calculations and mathematical formulas swam in front of his eyes and the discovery haunted the tip of his mind like an elusive myth.  He uttered a cry of desperation and pulled at his hair, failing to notice that several clumps came away in his hands. 

She will be so displeased with me!  I cannot—will not—let it be so! I am so close!

He repeatedly slapped his forehead, as if the concussive force would eject the revelation from his ear onto the ground.

It’s right there!  So close!  I need…I need…more room!

With agitated distress, Theoye began spreading the research out again, this time using all surfaces of his chambers.  He nailed papers to the bookshelves with whatever he could find whether it be used quills, cutlery, or fragments of bones from hardly touched meals.  He began tearing the repugnant sheets of his soiled bed into strips and knotting them together.  Using his makeshift rope, he began connecting the points of research.  When he ran out of bedding, he shredded his spare clothes.  When he ran out of clothes, he began using the ones upon his body.

Three turns of the glass later, his chambers resembled a desultory spider web and a naked Theoye stood in the center of it all.

The star was first visible near this date. The Dyrvish texts suggest the initial star was visible for half a pass before it became apparent the star was approaching collision with the planet.

He followed the makeshift rope to the next cluster of parchments.

My observations notate that it is approaching at an accelerated rate—that or the Dyrvish texts are incomplete—or coded, perhaps?  Theoye shook his head, thrusting the distraction aside.  Just the facts, man.  Just the facts. 

He followed the web about the room.

The star will fall in less than a dyo—of that I am sure, assuming my calculations of the size of the star are correct.  Based up on the size of the crater of the Dyrvish desert, the size of the star can be accurately derived and compared to the telescopic observations.  This fact is irrefutable.

Theoye, sagged slightly with momentary relief, and nearly tripped on a low lying connection.  Theoye stumbled across the room to a crude map covered in geocentric calculations and illustrated orbits.

If the star enters the atmosphere here, he thought, tracing his finger along a smudged line, then it will fall somewhere in Rhom.  Will that be enough to appease the Mistress?  Theoye cringed as he already knew the answer.

Inspiration struck him like the impact of a stone in a pail of water, ripples of epiphany echoing off the walls of his mind.  Having misplaced the inkpot and quill, and unable to locate a spare piece of parchment, he grabbed a coal from the hearth.  Heedless of the residual heat searing the palm of his hand, he leapt upon his desk.  He began drawing on the ceiling of his chambers with wild excitement.  When the coal was worn to a nub, he snatched up a second, and a third.  He shoved his desk through the chaos of his chambers and continued his work. 

Theoye overreached and ill-placed footing caused him to fall from his precarious perch, but not before the line he had been drawing veered off course.  With a squishy plop and sharp crack, he hit the floor.  Theoye instinctively reached out to brace himself, yet his weakened state did little to gentle his landing.  He landed on his back, and his head struck the ground with considerable force.  Metaphoric stars danced in front of his eyes as he stared at the stars he had drawn.  One leg was bent under him at a severely impossible angle, and a small puddle of blood was pooling around him.

Theoye gazed up at the ceiling, oblivious to the agony of his body.  The smell of burning flesh and blood permeated the dank room, yet he was only aware of one thing. 

The guard burst into the chambers, startled by Theoye’s shrill screech of exultation and was dumbstruck by the sight of the naked and obviously injured astronomer.  However, the guard was not nearly as disturbed by the sight of the man as he was by the gales of laughter bubbling out of Theoye.

“S-s-success!” Theoye cried, pointing at the accidental error etched into the ceiling that had precipitated his fall.  Theoye turned vacant, feverish eyes upon the guard, and the guard blanched at the maniacal monstrosity of Theoye’s gaze.  

“I f-f-ound it!  B-blessed mistake, b-but I f-found it!”