D
DrKatz
Guest
Chapter Fifteen: Signifier Signified
I have discovered many things about myself. First and formost: I have a name.
Chrflefruf.
So maybe I can't pronounce it. Names can change. Also, I was a quiet baby crab.
Mother asks me about adventures. And I tell her. All of it.
From the first moments I was aware of my existence, to the second I saw her at last.
I tell her about Freeman, about Calhoun, about the soldiers, the Tentacle, the giant Aristotle, the fan fiction, the portals, my time as a zombie. We laughed and cried. And then it was my turn to ask questions.
"Wait...how can you speak? Where did you learn all this?"
"Books have been coming through the portal for years. It was only recently that it started taking us to the otherside!"
"Do you know why?"
"No...thought all our best scientists were working on it. Also, one of our elementary schools seems to have
been the focal point for some of the interdimensional shifting. The whole third grade class of crabs - your siblings - got sent to the otherside. Have you seen any of them? How are they?"
I looked down, avoiding her eyes. Some things do not need to be said. After a beat, I tried to change the subject.
"Wait, there are schools here?"
"Of course. Well, there didn't used to be. But ever since the Nihilanth came to power - Chrflefruf, its just been great. He's a wonderful social reformer, a brilliant diplomat - and, you should know this Chrflefruf - your father. But his education program is what Xen will remember him for. Before him, headcrabs were second class citizens here on Xen."
Happiness, at last. And not just simple joy. True åõôõ÷ßá.
"Can I meet my father?"
"Of course you can, you will find him a most agreeable person. You know Chrflefruf, we love all our children, but you alone were able to..."
"Speak?"
"Yes. For that miracle, Chrflefruf, we have no answer for you. But perhaps, in time, you will be able to answer it yourself...We are all here for a reason and..."
But at that moment, a flash of light, and to our right, my nemesis.
"Mother, thats him! Thats Freeman!!! The man with the poor quality fiction and neatly cut ghoti!"
Before I could even finish the sentence, he had already fired an RPG, narrowly missing my mother and I.
"Chrflefruf, you've got to warn your father! If you can get to him, if you can warn him, he can save us. But he needs to know so he can surprise this Freeman."
"How do I get to my father?"
"Just through that tunnel. You'll go to a factory where we produce medicine for the poor. RUN."
I run, but I can't help looking back.
"Don't worry, son. I am sure we will all be re-united. I will try to reason with this poor fellow. Everything will be ok. Go to your father."
So I run into the tunnel. But the ground is slipperly, as I run through, I slip, and fall.
And then everything is turning black.
Of course, by this time I'm used to it.
I have discovered many things about myself. First and formost: I have a name.
Chrflefruf.
So maybe I can't pronounce it. Names can change. Also, I was a quiet baby crab.
Mother asks me about adventures. And I tell her. All of it.
From the first moments I was aware of my existence, to the second I saw her at last.
I tell her about Freeman, about Calhoun, about the soldiers, the Tentacle, the giant Aristotle, the fan fiction, the portals, my time as a zombie. We laughed and cried. And then it was my turn to ask questions.
"Wait...how can you speak? Where did you learn all this?"
"Books have been coming through the portal for years. It was only recently that it started taking us to the otherside!"
"Do you know why?"
"No...thought all our best scientists were working on it. Also, one of our elementary schools seems to have
been the focal point for some of the interdimensional shifting. The whole third grade class of crabs - your siblings - got sent to the otherside. Have you seen any of them? How are they?"
I looked down, avoiding her eyes. Some things do not need to be said. After a beat, I tried to change the subject.
"Wait, there are schools here?"
"Of course. Well, there didn't used to be. But ever since the Nihilanth came to power - Chrflefruf, its just been great. He's a wonderful social reformer, a brilliant diplomat - and, you should know this Chrflefruf - your father. But his education program is what Xen will remember him for. Before him, headcrabs were second class citizens here on Xen."
Happiness, at last. And not just simple joy. True åõôõ÷ßá.
"Can I meet my father?"
"Of course you can, you will find him a most agreeable person. You know Chrflefruf, we love all our children, but you alone were able to..."
"Speak?"
"Yes. For that miracle, Chrflefruf, we have no answer for you. But perhaps, in time, you will be able to answer it yourself...We are all here for a reason and..."
But at that moment, a flash of light, and to our right, my nemesis.
"Mother, thats him! Thats Freeman!!! The man with the poor quality fiction and neatly cut ghoti!"
Before I could even finish the sentence, he had already fired an RPG, narrowly missing my mother and I.
"Chrflefruf, you've got to warn your father! If you can get to him, if you can warn him, he can save us. But he needs to know so he can surprise this Freeman."
"How do I get to my father?"
"Just through that tunnel. You'll go to a factory where we produce medicine for the poor. RUN."
I run, but I can't help looking back.
"Don't worry, son. I am sure we will all be re-united. I will try to reason with this poor fellow. Everything will be ok. Go to your father."
So I run into the tunnel. But the ground is slipperly, as I run through, I slip, and fall.
And then everything is turning black.
Of course, by this time I'm used to it.
M
MI77
Guest
Ah! Stoppit with the cliffhangers! I love the way you're weaving in some of the ideas flying around about Nihilanth.
Darn that Freeman...
Oh, and I'd love to see some more Philosophic business. Cheers
Darn that Freeman...
Oh, and I'd love to see some more Philosophic business. Cheers
F
Fleabaine
Guest
This story is just great!
D
DrKatz
Guest
Chapter Sixteen: What is Enlightenment?
.
.
Foucault: At the end of the day, is there any meaning to this life? Have we reached some greater conclusion?
Kant: If you have to ask that, I'd say you're still stuck in a state of nonage, my friend.
Foucault: I've been meaning to ask exactly what you meant by that.
Kant: So have I.
.
.
"So, Chrflefruf. In the flesh."
The world is so bright - I can barely make out the form of a man in a blue suit, standing above me.
"You have had quite an experience, my little friend."
I squint. We are in some kind of car. Moving. Out a window, a sky full of stars.
"Who are you?"
"That is of little importance. In these trying times, Chrflefruf."
"Why am I here?"
"You above all crabs should know that these are answers that none of us can ever really answer.
I will remind you of your time spent in the library, and the items you found
under Mr. Freeman's bed. Chrflefruf, we are most pleased with your progress. You will be allowed
to persist. And, as a personal gift from myself - allowed to keep your voice."
"You can't answer any of my questions, then?"
The man in the suit smiles. "Well, perhaps one. You were wondering whether that fellow was in fact Aristotle?"
I nod, and the man in blue winks.
And then a flash of green. And I'm back in Black. Black Mesa, that is. I look around. I can make out microscopes, lab equipment. I can't stand it any more. I can not take this. I want to rest. To sleep. To be at home.
"Not Gulliver, not Odysseus - none have endured what I have! Why will this not stop at last - when can I rest?
Even Aeneis, after his travels, was allowed to rest. But no. I am never allowed to rest, never allowed to become still."
And then someone throws a net over my head, and suddenly I'm back in a cage. More voices follow.
"Well, Dr. Kleiner, you're right - this one talks."
"Great, throw him in the jeep. We can disect him later. We need to get out of here, while we still have a chance."
And then I can feel it all - being picked up, placed in a dark space. And speeding away.
And then I hear an explosion, coming from the direction we came.
But my mind is off of this, because I am back to the begining, considering Heraclitus and Parmenides. I have seen so much. I have met my mother, even if only for a moment. I know of my father, even if I never get a chance to meet him. I will find out what happened, back in Xen. I will find out how much damage Freeman was able to deliver. And, if necessary, I will make him suffer as much as I have had to.
But for now, I am back at the beggining. Heraclitus' river. I am thinking of the river, the river of change.
And this is my problem.
I am the river. But the first chance I have I will stop the flow. I will write down what I have done, what I have seen.
I have a new mantra. There is no text, only context. I realize it now, more than ever.
Suddenly, I'm saying it out loud. "There is no text, only context."
From the front of the jeep, I hear a voice say "Well, guess he doesn't subscribe to New Criticism then, does he? Hey I know - lets call the little guy Lamar!". Laughter follows.
But I'm not listening. I understand something about myself I didn't understand before. And once I get a pen and paper, I'm going to understand everything. There is no text, only context.
Context is everything.
The End?
.
.
Foucault: At the end of the day, is there any meaning to this life? Have we reached some greater conclusion?
Kant: If you have to ask that, I'd say you're still stuck in a state of nonage, my friend.
Foucault: I've been meaning to ask exactly what you meant by that.
Kant: So have I.
.
.
"So, Chrflefruf. In the flesh."
The world is so bright - I can barely make out the form of a man in a blue suit, standing above me.
"You have had quite an experience, my little friend."
I squint. We are in some kind of car. Moving. Out a window, a sky full of stars.
"Who are you?"
"That is of little importance. In these trying times, Chrflefruf."
"Why am I here?"
"You above all crabs should know that these are answers that none of us can ever really answer.
I will remind you of your time spent in the library, and the items you found
under Mr. Freeman's bed. Chrflefruf, we are most pleased with your progress. You will be allowed
to persist. And, as a personal gift from myself - allowed to keep your voice."
"You can't answer any of my questions, then?"
The man in the suit smiles. "Well, perhaps one. You were wondering whether that fellow was in fact Aristotle?"
I nod, and the man in blue winks.
And then a flash of green. And I'm back in Black. Black Mesa, that is. I look around. I can make out microscopes, lab equipment. I can't stand it any more. I can not take this. I want to rest. To sleep. To be at home.
"Not Gulliver, not Odysseus - none have endured what I have! Why will this not stop at last - when can I rest?
Even Aeneis, after his travels, was allowed to rest. But no. I am never allowed to rest, never allowed to become still."
And then someone throws a net over my head, and suddenly I'm back in a cage. More voices follow.
"Well, Dr. Kleiner, you're right - this one talks."
"Great, throw him in the jeep. We can disect him later. We need to get out of here, while we still have a chance."
And then I can feel it all - being picked up, placed in a dark space. And speeding away.
And then I hear an explosion, coming from the direction we came.
But my mind is off of this, because I am back to the begining, considering Heraclitus and Parmenides. I have seen so much. I have met my mother, even if only for a moment. I know of my father, even if I never get a chance to meet him. I will find out what happened, back in Xen. I will find out how much damage Freeman was able to deliver. And, if necessary, I will make him suffer as much as I have had to.
But for now, I am back at the beggining. Heraclitus' river. I am thinking of the river, the river of change.
And this is my problem.
I am the river. But the first chance I have I will stop the flow. I will write down what I have done, what I have seen.
I have a new mantra. There is no text, only context. I realize it now, more than ever.
Suddenly, I'm saying it out loud. "There is no text, only context."
From the front of the jeep, I hear a voice say "Well, guess he doesn't subscribe to New Criticism then, does he? Hey I know - lets call the little guy Lamar!". Laughter follows.
But I'm not listening. I understand something about myself I didn't understand before. And once I get a pen and paper, I'm going to understand everything. There is no text, only context.
Context is everything.
The End?
V
Veers57
Guest
LOL Good job my friend. I like the story. Now only if I have the time to put a picture of this Headcrab with some glasses and ontop of a book. Anyway, I really enjoyed the connections and jumps between stories. I thought your story was on a much higher level of most writing because of the inclusion of famous works such as Gulliver's Travels or Homer's writings. Overall I give this story a 4.8 stars out of 5. Good job. Continue the work.
M
MI77
Guest
Yeah, 4.8 and the rest too. Very good job DrKatz. What got you into philosophy? I was expecting you to make some bad joke about Xen and The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance (awesome book if anyone wants to explore some fairly simple philo) so extra kudos for avoiding it 
I'd love to hear some more - turn your hand to the Vorts, perhaps - they seem to have a lot to say in the game?
Keep up the good work!
I'd love to hear some more - turn your hand to the Vorts, perhaps - they seem to have a lot to say in the game?
Keep up the good work!
