The Gravity Myth

Reception

They all marched through the maze of corridors, Evan following the Shunned in a dual line. Eventually, the stench and cries of prisoners faded away as they moved past personal dwellings and into a grand room. There were chairs and tables set up, like a massive mess hall. Evan passed the luxurious place settings; real silverware, linen napkins, and fine china, arranged for an expensive banquet. At the head of the room stood a bare stage, tiered as if for the big song-and-dance number of a musical production.

The Judge, who was only a few steps in front of Evan, turned and spun on his heels. Evan had been soaking in the scenery, and almost collided with him.

"My young ward, welcome to Heorot!" Logan gripped Evan with one arm and held the other out to the hall, a circus master showing off his big-top. He said the words as if that explained it all, but Evan could only shoot him a quizzical look.

"Not a fan of the classics?" The Judge sucked his teeth. "You make that face pretty often, don't you?"

Evan started, then paused before saying "It's -- a lot to take in."

Logan shot back, "Well, I get it. Not everyone has access to codexes and the like..." Then, under his breath, "You'd think they might remember one that was required reading from middle school..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, my lad! You have much training ahead of you. Basic Shunned stuff, disguise and extraordinary rendition, maybe a little remedial reading."

"I can read." Evan replied.

The Judge considered this. "Mmmm, perhaps your problem lies more so in retention of knowledge."

Evan screwed up his face again. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's Beowulf! Fucking Beowulf! One of the oldest written stories learned to man? Literally every person on the fucking planet whose family tree branches knows it?" Logan bellowed. The few conversations being had by the surrounding Shunned ceased immediately, and they all stared at the pair.

Logan took a deep breath, then smoothed out the front of his robe and slicked his hair back, calming himself. "It's not important -- not important." He repeated. "There will be time for stories later."

"What's with everyone's obsession over stories here?" Evan asked.

It was the Judge's turn to make a strange face. "Stories bring knowledge. They have morals and history and critical thinking. Even the ones that have been refracted through the lenses of their tellers bear truths. Didn't we go over this in chambers? Stories are important because they tie our world together. They are how we learn. And you, dear boy, have a lot to learn."

"How will I know what's important?"

"Oh, it's all important. But the most importantest are the parts in italics."

Evan didn't understand, but he said, "Okay."

With that, Judge Logan leapt up to the first step of the stage. A microphone lowered from the ceiling and he grabbed it to address the crowd. "My children, today we welcome a new apprentice into our fold! He has shown a resilience that makes him more than a common sacrifice, and now he will join us in our mission that allows the world we left behind to exist."

Evan took a seat in one of the plush chairs at a long banquet table, in between an Amazon tall woman and a sturdy man who looked to be of viking lineage. The fish crackers he had eaten were nothing but a memory at this point, and his stomach felt like it may start eating itself at any moment.

Logan continued, "Now that court is out of session, I'm no longer Judge, just your benevolent brother who put together this lovely feast! Let's hear it for me!"

Chants for Logan echoed through the great hall. Some shouted what Evan thought could be "Seth" or "Set". Others called their leader by names he had not heard before. The viking next to him must have had a thick accent, his cheers coming out, "Loh-gheen!"

Another smell hit Evan, but this time, it was heavenly. Doors from the back of the hall burst open, and the smell grew even stronger. The sensation of cooked meat left a line of drool down Evan's chin.

The lights in the hall turned off, yet the lights from the kitchen at the back of the room still provided a small amount of visibility among the crowd. A single spotlight shone on Seth Logan as he climbed to the top of the stage steps. The microphone followed him, stopping just within vocal range as he turned to face the audience. Slowly, he began shedding his robe.

From somewhere, a violin struck ascending notes, the first staccato, the second sustained. Logan's crisp tenor filled the hall. An orchestra swelled behind him.

Recitar! Mentre preso del delirio,

(Act! While in delirium)

non so piu quel che dico,

(I no longer know what to say,)

e quel che faccio!

(or what I do!)

A handful of servers strolled out with long dining carts. Each had a giant covered metal tray which they wheeled between the tables. The Shunned stood and crowded the carts as the waitstaff removed the covers.

On stage, Logan revealed a clown suit under the robes. He kicked the overgarments away as he descended the stairs. He began rubbing his face, which turned a sickly white with grease paint.

Vesti la giubba e la faccia infarina.

(Put on your costume and powder your face.)

La gente paga, e rider vuole qua.

(The people are paying, and they want to laugh here.)

Evan's eyes went wide when they revealed the body beneath the tray cover. The skin was crisp and roasted golden brown, like a luau pig. Juices seeped from the spots where the flesh had cracked to reveal tender cooked muscle beneath. On its wrist, a bracelet with heart and music note charms.

Ridi, Pagliaccio,

(Laugh, clown,)

sul tuo amore infranto!

(at your broken love!)

Tears fell down Evan's cheeks and he let out a choked squeal. He wanted to run away, yet he continued salivating. His pained stomach rumbled to remind him of his natural desire.

Behind him, Logan hammed up a sobbing fit into the microphone.

Evan turned to look at any other trays. All of the rest were surrounded by Shunned. There was no one left at the tables, they all tore and slurped standing directly at the carts. A big hand pulled him back to the girl at his tray.

It was the viking who had sat next to him. "No." He commanded. "Loh-gheen, he make this one for you. Special."

Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!

(Laugh at the grief that poisons your heart!)

Evan reached out a quivering hand and rent away a strip of her calf. It pulled apart with disturbing ease. He raised it to his mouth and slowly began to chew. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

"Callie..." He sniffled. Evan openly wept as he ate.

Now at the bottom step, the clown fixed his distraught face into a grotesque smile and took a deep bow.

La commedia e finata.