Pale Blue Light
Kazuki Mishima
cover art first person freeform input keyword multiple protagonists parser past tense poetry second person Third person
"Sophie actually enjoyed the festival every year. She enjoyed the lights, the songs, and the crispness of the air. It was only the crowds that made her uneasy and drove her into the solitude she had learned to appreciate."
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Johann found the whole rattling car empty save one seat occupied by a girl about his age, whose face was hidden behind a large folding star chart, labeled MAP in one corner. He approached softly. There was something perhaps familiar about her.

"Mind if I sit here, Miss?" he asked. She looked up from the map, and Johann at once recognized her as his sister, and wondered how in the world he hadn't known who she was earlier. She smiled to see him, but he thought he saw her wiping a tear from her eye as turned to put down his coat. Taking the seat opposite her, and looking for a moment at the near-total desolation outside the train, punctuated only by a few swimming blue lamps, he asked, "Where did you get that map?"

"They gave it to me at the station, of course. Didn't they give you one too?" But Johann could not remember any station. In fact, he could not remember boarding the train at all.



Inspired by the life and work of Kenji Miyazawa.
Enter "about" for more information.

I. One More Painted Lantern

"Je tiu tago ni vidos kaj esperon kaj harmonion, kaj chu estos pli au malpli bela sunlevigho de tiu tago ol sunlevigho estas hodiau?"

Sophie actually enjoyed the festival every year. She enjoyed the lights, the songs, and the crispness of the air. It was only the crowds that made her uneasy and drove her into the solitude she had learned to appreciate.

There the river was at its widest, flowing with a stealthy swiftness. The only way back to the city was to the northwest.

Painted lanterns undulated just barely within view.

She was surprised to see Franz there.
Inventory
She was carrying:
a faith pendant (being worn)
You examine the pendant
Sophie had inherited the pendant, a symbol of faith, from her grandmother. It was of a strange shape, with many curves. Sophie's grandmother had called it her "ohm."

Franz noticed Sophie's presence with a start. He stumbled, fell into the water, and was silently carried downstream.
About yourself
Sophie was sometimes told she was a good child, and she liked to think of herself that way.
You take the lantern
The lanterns were floating in the far-away sky.
You examine the gate
The ancient spirit gate was closed. In design, it looked far older than anything in the city, yet its wood seemed immune to rot. In it were carved three recesses, each of the same peculiar shape that defined the pendant Sophie wore wherever she went. One was green, another silver, and the third was pale blue.
You examine the lanterns
The lanterns formed new constellations in the inky sky.
You look at Franz
He was thoroughly wet and entirely dazed.
You put the pendant in the recess
Which did she mean, the green recess, the silver recess, or the pale blue recess?
Green
(first taking it off)
Sophie placed her faith pendant in the gate's green recess.

"We cannot place our faith in the verdigris of life," said Franz, "for all things that live must die."
You put the pendant in the silver recess
(first taking the faith pendant)
Sophie placed her faith pendant in the gate's silver recess.

"We cannot place our faith in the sheen of silver," said Franz, "for all things that are must pass."
You put the pendant in  the blue recess
(first taking the faith pendant)
Sophie placed her faith pendant in the gate's pale blue recess.

"We can place our faith only in the Pale Blue Light -- the light of both death and compassion," said Franz, "for death is certain, and compassion illuminates the way."

The gate opened, apparently of its own accord.
You look around
Crane Island, Western Shore
This part of the island consisted mainly of smooth sedimentary rock, while she was on a small sandy bit of shore that connected to the east with a path guarded by an ancient spirit gate.

The ancient spirit gate was open.

Painted lanterns undulated just barely within view.

Franz stood silently by.
You enter the gate
The tunnel seemed to have been carved from the stone by hand with crude tools. It wasn't smooth, like the grand buildings in the city center, but rough, with uneven walls. She could go out to the east or through the spirit gate to the west.

The ancient spirit gate was open.

Franz arrived from the west.
You examine the gate
The ancient spirit gate was open. In design, it looked far older than anything in the city, yet its wood seemed immune to rot. In it were carved three recesses, each of the same peculiar shape that defined the pendant Sophie wore wherever she went. One was green, another silver, and the third was pale blue.
You go east
A circular stone platform with carved geometric designs surrounded an ancient stone well. It was in places like these that the old Theists offered prayers, and the first Monists held their whirlings all those centuries ago. Great rocks surrounded the western half of the circle. The spirit tunnel led west through them. The eastern half of the circle was open, allowing passage to the east, northeast, and southeast.

Franz arrived from the west.
You look at the platform
Sophie had expected it to bear ritual inscriptions of some sort, but instead found it perfectly smooth.
You examine well
The well looked even older than everything else there - far older. It stood forever yawning, forever offering its deep obscurity to anything that should fall in.
Go west
The tunnel seemed to have been carved from the stone by hand with crude tools. It wasn't smooth, like the grand buildings in the city center, but rough, with uneven walls. She could go out to the east or through the spirit gate to the west.

The ancient spirit gate was open.

Franz arrived from the east.
You take pendant
Taken.

The spirit gate slid shut.
Look around
The tunnel seemed to have been carved from the stone by hand with crude tools. It wasn't smooth, like the grand buildings in the city center, but rough, with uneven walls. She could go out to the east or through the spirit gate to the west.

Franz stood silently by.

The ancient spirit gate was closed.
You put pendant in the blue recess
Sophie placed her faith pendant in the gate's pale blue recess.

"We can place our faith only in the Pale Blue Light -- the light of both death and compassion," said Franz, "for death is certain, and compassion illuminates the way."

The gate opened, apparently of its own accord.
You drop the pendant in well
She put the faith pendant into the ancient stone well.

The faith pendant was was carried swiftly downstream.
You ask Franz about well
Sophie could say nothing; she had always been unable to speak, and the language of the speechless had been forgotten long ago.
You go east
This area of the island featured a placid, shallow pond. It seemed to be the very center of the island; she could go in any of the four cardinal directions from there.

Franz arrived from the west.
You examine the pond
The pond lay absolutely still, and at its center floated a blue crane.
You examine the Crane
Which did she mean, Crane Pond or the blue crane?
You look at the blue Crane
Still. Stolid. Restfully being.
Swim
The crane, wary of Sophie's approach, flew off into the night. Sophie swam around a bit in the moonlight, and Franz turned away, apparently thinking it improper to watch. Soon, however, the cold was too much, and she stopped.
Look around
This area of the island featured a placid, shallow pond. It seemed to be the very center of the island; she could go in any of the four cardinal directions from there.

Franz stood silently by.
You go north
This, at least, was familiar; there were shrines like this all over the mainland, dedicated to the Protector worshiped in ancient theology. This one was set apart by its distinctive watchtower rising upward into the cold sky. She could also go south, southeast, southwest, or up into the tower.

Franz arrived from the south.
You go southwest
A circular stone platform with carved geometric designs surrounded an ancient stone well. It was in places like these that the old Theists offered prayers, and the first Monists held their whirlings all those centuries ago. Great rocks surrounded the western half of the circle. The spirit tunnel led west through them. The eastern half of the circle was open, allowing passage to the east, northeast, and southeast.

Franz arrived from the northeast.
You go east
This area of the island featured a placid, shallow pond. It seemed to be the very center of the island; she could go in any of the four cardinal directions from there.

Franz arrived from the west.
You look at the tower
This watchtower was visible from the city, and had been a symbol of the region for ages. It was even depicted in Sophie's family crest.
You examine the shrine
It is of stone and of simple design. Whatever figure it may have held has long since gone. Attached to it is a tower.
Up
High in the air, she could see it all: the island, the river with its bank, the path leading up to the gates, and the city beyond. It was beautiful.

Sophie remembered the heavy creases of her father's forehead, the religious fixation of his eyes as he saluted the family crest three years before. She remembered the engraved tower surrounded by the ancient motto she could not read. Franz had been there on one of his visits, and had examined the old letters closely, slowly tracing them with his finger before speaking aloud those strange words she could not understand:

"Neniame forlasu la gardon."

Her father's face had become wildly hostile, and he had shouted condemnations of the utterance of Elderese. That had been the last time Sophie had seen her father.

The only way out was back down to the shrine.

Painted lanterns undulated just barely within view.
You say the neniame forlasu la gardon
(to Sophie)
Sophie could say nothing; she had always been unable to speak, and the language of the speechless had been forgotten long ago.
Describe the surroundings
High in the air, she could see it all: the island, the river with its bank, the path leading up to the gates, and the city beyond. It was beautiful.

The only way out was back down to the shrine.

Painted lanterns undulated just barely within view.
Down
This, at least, was familiar; there were shrines like this all over the mainland, dedicated to the Protector worshiped in ancient theology. This one was set apart by its distinctive watchtower rising upward into the cold sky. She could also go south, southeast, southwest, or up into the tower.

Franz was gone.
Go southwest
A circular stone platform with carved geometric designs surrounded an ancient stone well. It was in places like these that the old Theists offered prayers, and the first Monists held their whirlings all those centuries ago. Great rocks surrounded the western half of the circle. The spirit tunnel led west through them. The eastern half of the circle was open, allowing passage to the east, northeast, and southeast.

Sophie's father stood there, seething, menacing, holding a knife to Franz.

Franz, captive, shivered, a slight blue glow dancing about his teary eyes, and a pale, wavering, blue cocoon of light shielding him against the attacks of Sophie's father.

Her father turned as she approached. "Stay out of my way, Sophie," he commanded. "It is at last time to end this aberration."
You look at Franz
He was thoroughly wet and entirely dazed.
You look at the father
He had changed much since Sophie had last seen him. All the love and care had gone from him.

The blue glow about Franz faded as Sophie's father drew the knife toward his throat.

Again the train slowed, and Johann saw a vast field of corn approaching ahead, the golden tuft of hair on every ear rippling in a slow breeze. He turned to the fisherman at his side, and was about to ask, "Can you see that? Isn't it splendid?"

But as suddenly as he had appeared, the fisherman had departed. Although he had seen too many things out of the ordinary to wonder where the man had gone, Johann wished very much that he had said more to his fellow passenger while he had the chance.

"People come and go so quickly on this train," he remarked to his sister. "At least I know you won't disappear on me."

She nodded silently, shifting in her seat.

II. Avery's Diary

I am Avery Jones, and I am a schoolteacher.

15 December 1921.
Am working on a new story I'm calling "Johann's Ticket." Have sketched out the basic arc already, and am trying to round it out into something to send off to the city publishers again, though I suspect I'll just end up having a small run printed at my own expense, as I did with "One More Painted Lantern" and the poetry.

Noticed today that it's been over a month since I started teaching. Think I may have developed a knack for it. Seems the trick is to pay textbooks only the very little attention they're due, and to keep the children excited. Mme S. didn't seem much too pleased with this method at first, but I seem to have won the children's admiration, and the respect of my superiors has gradually followed.

Had a real shock today when Benjamin Harker became ill during rehearsal for the play. When I had sent for his parents, I started cleaning up, at which point I confirmed my suspicions that the Harker family has it bad enough that they're eating mostly kelp. This prompted me to at last discuss the possibility of an agronomics curriculum with Mme S. She didn't seem too adverse to the idea. Also convinced Mr. Harker to let me have a look at his soil.

Everyone seems to be catching the autumn sickness. Lately my coughing has been deeper and more difficult, and Lucy's begun coughing as well. Am doing my best to encourage hygiene among my pupils, but convincing any of them to show any concern for his own health is a struggle.

You,
Great Explorer,
About yourself
You,
Great Explorer,

[That word is either insignificant or not part of the poem.]
You say onward
(to Avery Jones)

You,
Great Explorer,

[That word is either insignificant or not part of the poem.]
Explorer
You,
Great Explorer,
running off into the forest
Running
You,
Great Explorer,
running off into the forest
to seek the light you saw inside,
wear your damn raincoat!

I am Avery Jones, and I am weak.

21 September 1933.
Am coughing up more blood than usual. Chills have set in harder. Some delirium this morning. All in all, is much like Lucy's last day. Had an unexpected visitor; Mr. Harker got word I'd returned to my parents' house and came to describe the condition of his crop, looking for advice. Convinced him to stay for some time, though Father seemed eager to shoo him away. Was discreet about my difficulties, and I don't think Mr. Harker caught on, but since he left things have deteriorated further. This is likely the end. Will attempt a traditional sort of rhyme, but this had better not end up on my tombstone, as I'm no Longfellow.
Alone
Sea
our rising hopes, our growing fears;
to claim these both she waits.

I am Avery Jones, and I am in despair.

27 November 1922.
Went out for a walk today. Couldn't do anything else. I had walked all the way down to the creek before I even realized how far I'd gone.

Back when it all started, when she coughed up blood for the first time, I'd gone there looking for a maple branch. "I want one full of sap," she'd said, "and with icicles hanging down." I'd thought it selfish and frivolous of her to ask, when it seemed so necessary that I remain. It occurred to me only today that it was the most selfless thing she could have done -- to give me leave when I most needed it.

This evening I thought, for a moment, that I had seen a bird. I thought, for a moment, that I was saved. But it was not a flurry of wings. It was only the dead falling of snow from the limb of an oak. It took some time to disinter my face from the wet folds of my handkerchief.

When I had finished a prayer for the repose of Lucy's soul, I observed the noise of the water's currents below. The wind ran its fingers through my hair. It was calling me home. The water was pulling me in. It was calling me to jump.
Self
Cling
with bonds imitating love
Love
with bonds imitating love
to objects of my own construction
is a pale blue light
cast by the flickering lamp
fed on an alternating current.

I didn't jump. Instead I found a low-hanging branch nearby, craned my neck heavenward, and sung the most bitter chorus of "How Great Thou Art" the world has ever heard.

Johann strained his eyes, staring deep into the round void outside. "I don't see a thing," he said.

His sister pointed excitedly out the window "There's a small, pale blue light out there, right there in the middle!" He stared as hard as he could, and still he saw nothing, but then a small dim something appeared, just where she had been pointing.

"I see it!" he shouted, but his sister was no longer there, and turning back to that dim form in dread he saw that it was his sister, half a mile from the train or more, waving goodbye as she receded into the dark.

III. Jamaica Center Bound

You are Dr. Howard Mann, and you are on the E train.
"This is a Jamaica Center bound E local train. The next stop is Jamaica -- Van Wyck."

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

The dates and names of the diary run over and over in your mind, though you have tired of reading.

A man sleeps opposite you, twitching fitfully.

The clock reads 5:13 pm.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
Avery's diary

A shake and a rumble.
You examine diary
You can read no more of the photocopied manuscript of Avery's diary, though it occupies a vast territory in your conscious mind. He was your favorite poet growing up and the subject of your doctoral thesis. On your more grandiose days you imagine yourself to be his modern reincarnation. This is not one of your more grandiose days.

"This is Jamaica -- Van Wyck. Transfer is available to the F train"

The doors open.
Leave
Aborting your plans, you step off the train early and board the next Manhattan-bound E train. Tonight you'll eat too much ice cream and watch a romantic comedy at home in Rego Park.

That night, you dream you run into one of the characters in Avery Jones's children's novel One More Painted Lantern, a girl named Sophie. She is sad, soaked to the bone, and alone, and all you can say to her is:
You say hello
(to the sleeping man)
Sophie could say nothing; she had always been unable to speak, and the language of the speechless had been forgotten long ago.
Look around
A man sleeps opposite you, twitching fitfully.

The clock reads 5:17 pm.
Hello
And then Avery Jones himself appears out of the gloom, greets Sophie with a tip of his hat, and then turns, smiling, to you. You feel there is something dreadfully important you want to tell him, but all you can manage is:
Continue
Although Johann's Ticket remained unfinished at the time of Avery Jones's untimely death from tuberculosis in 1933, it has long been one of his most popular works, and has been translated into at least five languages since its first publication in 1945.

IV. Afterword

I am Avery Jones, and I have died.

This thin strip of land runs east-west through the river Acheron.

A small girl approaches. I think she must be Sophie, a character in the book I've been writing. Perhaps these are the fevered imaginings of a dying brain. But then I look more closely and realize that I am looking into my sister's face. Oh, Lucy!

A man stumbles into view from the depths of the night. He peers for a moment into Sophie's face, saying "HELLO"

To me, he says --
You look around
A man sleeps opposite you, twitching fitfully.

The clock reads 5:15 pm.

"This is a Jamaica Center bound E local train. The next stop is Sutphin Boulevard -- Archer Avenue -- JFK."

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

You've got about fifteen minutes until the next Montauk-bound train leaves.

"This is Sutphin Boulevard -- Archer Avenue -- JFK. Transfer is available to the J train. Connection is available to the Long Island Railroad and AirTran to JFK Airport."

The doors open wide for you.
You wait awhile
Time passes.

"This is a Jamaica Center bound E local train. The next and last stop is Sutphin Boulevard."

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

Somehow you just couldn't leave.

"The next and last stop is Jamaica Center -- Parsons Boulevard -- Archer Avenue."

Perhaps it was a stupid idea anyway.

That night, you dream you run into one of the characters in Avery Jones's children's novel One More Painted Lantern, a girl named Sophie. She is sad, soaked to the bone, and alone, and all you can say to her is:
You're poetry is weird
Although Johann's Ticket remained unfinished at the time of Avery Jones's untimely death from tuberculosis in 1933, it has long been one of his most popular works, and has been translated into at least five languages since its first publication in 1945.

IV. Afterword

I am Avery Jones, and I have died.

This thin strip of land runs east-west through the river Acheron.

A small girl approaches. I think she must be Sophie, a character in the book I've been writing. Perhaps these are the fevered imaginings of a dying brain. But then I look more closely and realize that I am looking into my sister's face. Oh, Lucy!

A man stumbles into view from the depths of the night. He peers for a moment into Sophie's face, saying "HELLO SAILOR"

To me, he says --
You look around
A circular stone platform with carved geometric designs surrounded an ancient stone well. It was in places like these that the old Theists offered prayers, and the first Monists held their whirlings all those centuries ago. Great rocks surrounded the western half of the circle. The spirit tunnel led west through them. The eastern half of the circle was open, allowing passage to the east, northeast, and southeast.

Franz stood silently by.
You go to the southeast
It was a fairly well-known secret that Crane Island wasn't an island at all; this narrow isthmus extended south to the far bank of the Acheron. From there she could also go north, northeast, or northwest.

She could see a tiger there.

Franz arrived from the northwest.
You examine the tiger
A fearsome beast if ever there was one.
Pet tiger
The tiger was a capricious beast indeed, and did not take kindly to Sophie's advances. It lunged toward Sophie.

A blue glow danced about Franz's eyes, then expanded outward, forming barriers of light that somehow pushed the tiger back mid-leap and kept it at bay.
You look at Franz
He was thoroughly wet and entirely dazed.
Go northeast
There was a steep hill at the easternmost point of the island, covered in images of the Sun. She could go west, northwest, or southwest from there, or enter the concrete shelter set into the hill.

Franz arrived from the southwest.
You enter the shelter
Though the City Council had forced the Museum to close some years ago, Sophie remembered that it had once held an exhibit that contained a number of artifacts recovered from this site -- an exhibit Sophie was explicitly forbidden to see.

She could see an ancient word machine and some parchment there.

Franz arrived from the outside.
You examine the machine
Sophie had seen a number of these devices at the Museum. This particular sort of word machine, she remembered, was used for displaying changing information. This one was still working. Perhaps, thought Sophie, it was powered by light, like some of the museum pieces. It read thus:

"La aktuala nivelo de minaco estas rugho. Pro masiva aliranta objekto, chiuj civitanoj devas serchi shirmejon. La Chiela Gardo antaue ghisdatigis la minacan nivelon antau 472 jaroj, 3 monatoj, 25 tagoj kaj 3 horoj."
You examine the parchment
It was affixed to the concrete, and there was ancient writing on it:

Neniame forlasu la gardon.

La eterna misio de la Chiela Gardo estas atente gardi la loghantaron de la terglobo kontrau la minaco de dangheraj chielaj eventoj. Pro tiu celo, la Asocio de Liberaj Popoloj formis la Chielan Gardon kiel reto de sciencistoj, antauaj militaj organizacioj kaj autonomaj registaroj investitaj je la chiela sekureco de chiuj personoj. Nia teleskopoj, eskapaj transportistoj kaj publikaj bunkroj cirkau la terglobo estas monumentoj al la forteco de popoloj unuighintaj pro la komuna bono.

Chu vi aspiras alighi la Chielan Gardon, ni invitas vin paroli kun la oficiro en tiu gardejo pri kiamaniere vi povas asisti.

La Chiela Gardo nuntempe klopodas provizi pli informajho je naciaj lingvoj. Atendu pli servoj je via gepatra lingvo baldau!
You show the machine to Franz
(first taking the ancient word machine)
That was fixed in place.
You describe your surroundings
Though the City Council had forced the Museum to close some years ago, Sophie remembered that it had once held an exhibit that contained a number of artifacts recovered from this site -- an exhibit Sophie was explicitly forbidden to see.

Franz stood silently by.

She could also see an ancient word machine and some parchment there.
2
To Peter Pears, because I flaked out on his project like the coward I am. And to Kenji Miyazawa, because I want to be him.
3
Identification number: //6F43D86A-ECCE-11DE-9EE0-001D094ED464// Standard interpreter 1.0 (2N) / Library serial number 080126
Standard Rules version 2/090402 by Graham Nelson
Custom Library Messages version 4/110422 by Ron Newcomb (with special thanks to David Fisher)
Undo Output Control version 1/090626 by Erik Temple
Questions version 4 by Michael Callaghan

Inspired by the life and work of Kenji Miyazawa.

Tested by Poster, Katzy, Tiddy Ogg, & Matt Weiner. Only one measly round of testing was conducted, so don't blame anything on the testers.

The cover image for "Pale Blue Light" uses material from the Governmental Nuclear Regulatory Commission.
4
"Pale Blue Light" was inspired by the life and work of Kenji Miyazawa. Kenji (1896 - 1933) was a Japanese Nichiren Buddhist, naturalist, agronomist, Esperantist, ultranationalist, and schoolteacher who lived in relative obscurity in rural and destitute Hanamaki of Iwate province but gained great fame and admiration in Japan for his poetry and children's stories during the 1990s. A number of his works have been translated into English. Perhaps the best English-language volume on Kenji is Hiroaki Sato's Miyazawa Kenji: Selections, which contains a number of Kenji's poems and a thorough biographical introduction. It is published by the University of California Press.
You go outside
There was a steep hill at the easternmost point of the island, covered in images of the Sun. She could go west, northwest, or southwest from there, or enter the concrete shelter set into the hill.

Franz arrived from the inside.
Go northwest
This, at least, was familiar; there were shrines like this all over the mainland, dedicated to the Protector worshiped in ancient theology. This one was set apart by its distinctive watchtower rising upward into the cold sky. She could also go south, southeast, southwest, or up into the tower.

Franz arrived from the southeast.
Up
High in the air, she could see it all: the island, the river with its bank, the path leading up to the gates, and the city beyond. It was beautiful.

Sophie remembered the heavy creases of her father's forehead, the religious fixation of his eyes as he saluted the family crest three years before. She remembered the engraved tower surrounded by the ancient motto she could not read. Franz had been there on one of his visits, and had examined the old letters closely, slowly tracing them with his finger before speaking aloud those strange words she could not understand:

"Neniame forlasu la gardon."

Her father's face had become wildly hostile, and he had shouted condemnations of the utterance of Elderese. That had been the last time Sophie had seen her father.

The only way out was back down to the shrine.

Painted lanterns undulated just barely within view.
You take the knife
Sophie's father maintained his grip on the knife and coldly pushed her aside.
Kiss Father
Sophie's father gave a short gasp of surprise, his eyes momentarily widened, and he dropped his knife.
You take the knife
Sophie took hold of the knife.

"Sophie," her father said, "we have to end this. He speaks the ancient language. He even uses the ancient light!"
You drop the knife in well
She put the knife into the ancient stone well.

The knife was was carried swiftly downstream.

"Sophie!" her father shouted. "What have you done?" He turned toward her and began to squeeze her throat. With a cry of despair, Franz came to her side, and the two were enveloped in blue light that met the coming blow of her father and deflected him backward into the gathering night.

Again the train slowed, and Johann saw a vast field of corn approaching ahead, the golden tuft of hair on every ear rippling in a slow breeze. He turned to the fisherman at his side, and was about to ask, "Can you see that? Isn't it splendid?"

But as suddenly as he had appeared, the fisherman had departed. Although he had seen too many things out of the ordinary to wonder where the man had gone, Johann wished very much that he had said more to his fellow passenger while he had the chance.

"People come and go so quickly on this train," he remarked to his sister. "At least I know you won't disappear on me."

She nodded silently, shifting in her seat.
You press space
You,
Great Explorer,
Great
You,
Great Explorer,
stumbling in your father's shoes,
Father
You,
Great Explorer,
stumbling in your father's shoes,

[That word is either insignificant or not part of the poem.]
Stumbling
You,
Great Explorer,
stumbling in your father's shoes,
tripping over your own eagerness,
wear your damn raincoat!

I am Avery Jones, and I am weak.

21 September 1933.
Am coughing up more blood than usual. Chills have set in harder. Some delirium this morning. All in all, is much like Lucy's last day. Had an unexpected visitor; Mr. Harker got word I'd returned to my parents' house and came to describe the condition of his crop, looking for advice. Convinced him to stay for some time, though Father seemed eager to shoo him away. Was discreet about my difficulties, and I don't think Mr. Harker caught on, but since he left things have deteriorated further. This is likely the end. Will attempt a traditional sort of rhyme, but this had better not end up on my tombstone, as I'm no Longfellow.
Ten
They
[That word is either insignificant or not part of the poem.]
Count
and number, as they haul in fish,
innumerable years.

I am Avery Jones, and I am in despair.

27 November 1922.
Went out for a walk today. Couldn't do anything else. I had walked all the way down to the creek before I even realized how far I'd gone.

Back when it all started, when she coughed up blood for the first time, I'd gone there looking for a maple branch. "I want one full of sap," she'd said, "and with icicles hanging down." I'd thought it selfish and frivolous of her to ask, when it seemed so necessary that I remain. It occurred to me only today that it was the most selfless thing she could have done -- to give me leave when I most needed it.

This evening I thought, for a moment, that I had seen a bird. I thought, for a moment, that I was saved. But it was not a flurry of wings. It was only the dead falling of snow from the limb of an oak. It took some time to disinter my face from the wet folds of my handkerchief.

When I had finished a prayer for the repose of Lucy's soul, I observed the noise of the water's currents below. The wind ran its fingers through my hair. It was calling me home. The water was pulling me in. It was calling me to jump.
You proclaim
It
[That word is either insignificant or not part of the poem.]
Hardly
for all the vanity
Vanity
for all the vanity
it pours into the mirror bowl
is a pale blue light
cast by the flickering lamp
fed on an alternating current.

I didn't jump. Instead I found a low-hanging branch nearby, craned my neck heavenward, and sung the most bitter chorus of "How Great Thou Art" the world has ever heard.

Johann strained his eyes, staring deep into the round void outside. "I don't see a thing," he said.

His sister pointed excitedly out the window "There's a small, pale blue light out there, right there in the middle!" He stared as hard as he could, and still he saw nothing, but then a small dim something appeared, just where she had been pointing.

"I see it!" he shouted, but his sister was no longer there, and turning back to that dim form in dread he saw that it was his sister, half a mile from the train or more, waving goodbye as she receded into the dark.

III. Jamaica Center Bound

You are Dr. Howard Mann, and you are on the E train.
"This is a Jamaica Center bound E local train. The next stop is Jamaica -- Van Wyck."

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

The dates and names of the diary run over and over in your mind, though you have tired of reading.

A man sleeps opposite you, twitching fitfully.

The clock reads 5:13 pm.
You wake man
You're not sure you want to do that.

A shake and a rumble.
You look at the clock
It reads 5:14 pm.

"This is Jamaica -- Van Wyck. Transfer is available to the F train"

The doors open.
Wait
Time passes.

"This is a Jamaica Center bound E local train. The next stop is Sutphin Boulevard -- Archer Avenue -- JFK."

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

You've got about fifteen minutes until the next Montauk-bound train leaves.

"This is Sutphin Boulevard -- Archer Avenue -- JFK. Transfer is available to the J train. Connection is available to the Long Island Railroad and AirTran to JFK Airport."

The doors open wide for you.
Go outside
Before you can even really think about it, you're Montauk-bound, a pilgrim, and you clutch Avery's diary -- your Holy Book -- closer to your chest. You have no idea where you'll spend the night.

That night, sleeping on the Long Island Railroad, you dream you run into one of the characters in Avery Jones's children's novel One More Painted Lantern, a girl named Sophie. Her friend Franz trails along behind, blue sparks playing about his hair. All you can say to them is:
Fiddlesticks
And then Avery Jones himself appears out of the gloom, greets Sophie and Franz with a tip of his hat, and then turns, smiling, to you. You feel there is something dreadfully important you want to tell him, but all you can manage is:
Xyzzy
Although Johann's Ticket remained unfinished at the time of Avery Jones's untimely death from tuberculosis in 1933, it has long been one of his most popular works, and has been translated into at least five languages since its first publication in 1945.

IV. Afterword

I am Avery Jones, and I have died.

This thin strip of land runs east-west through the river Acheron.

A small girl approaches. I think she must be Sophie, a character in the book I've been writing. Perhaps these are the fevered imaginings of a dying brain. But then I look more closely and realize that I am looking into my sister's face. Oh, Lucy! And that boy trailing behind her, that is just the child I once was.

A man stumbles into view from the depths of the night. He peers for a moment into Sophie's face, saying "FIDDLESTICKS"

To me, he says --