-Trinidad-
Part five of five of a "Twitterive" assignment in Professor Mangini's Writing/Research/Technology class in which I collected snippets of conversation and images to turn them into one functional story. You can read the whole piece here. "Trinidad" happens to be my favorite of the five books, which is why it is represented below. It's also interesting to read out of context.
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There’s a spot of blood on Trinidad’s sleeve. Light streams through the windows in a kaleidoscope of colors—sapphire, scarlet, salmon. The room is made to look like a fortress under the sea. As Trinidad paces before the windows, a small school of damselfish nip at his heels. Coral climb in the rafters and seaweed stretch their leafy arms to caress the creator. The room rocks in an invisible current.
It is all an illusion, of course.
Trinidad waves his arm and the coral reef disappears, replaced by cold marble and chrome. He is not in the mood for fish.
There comes a subtle knock at the door.
“Come in,” he croaks. Trinidad has lived long enough to satisfy the lifespan of several men. His voice cracks—and so does the rest of him.
“Father?” The click of heels on tile echoes around the room. Coin’s hair falls around the small of her back like a field of wheat. She frowns, and somehow her misery makes her even more stunning. “I thought you liked the Great Barrier Reef.”
Trinidad is a vulture perched by the windowsill. “It is tiring. The colors hurt my eyes.”
“Machu Picchu perhaps? Or the Scottish highlands? I also hear that the Amazon is—”
“Be quiet, Coin. Come here. Come look at this.” Coin joins her father by the windowsill. They are on the twenty second floor of Slipstream’s Corporate Super Building. The edifice spans several city blocks, though the twentieth through twenty fifth floors are reserved strictly for Trinidad and his daughter.
Far beneath them a riot has started. There are at least fifteen of them—men and women, some children—who scream obscenities and hurl stones at Slipstream. All of them are without their goggles. A cloud of passersby have gathered to watch and to listen.
Coin gasps. “Father, they’ve—”
“Seen through the magician’s veil? Yes. It only took thirty years. Mice worked it out faster.”
“What should we do?”
“Leave them.”
“But there will be anarchy. There’s only a few now, but you know how these things can escalate. Before long, they will have amassed hundreds. Maybe thousands. Father, you know I’ve always heeded your wisdom, but...”
Trinidad begins to laugh. They first escape in tiny giggles—like a child’s breath—soft and inviting, but they soon graduate to great howls. His voice shudders and breaks. The laugh is something metallic, like a machine, or a monster, or some dying beast. It is horrifying to hear.
He moves away from the window. “Coin, daughter of mine. Do not forget—I saved this people. I made them. I created a world in which they’d live with everything they could possibly want. Where there are those that would defy me, there are a thousand more who would take my side. This is a dull edge to my sword, and I’ve an army of blacksmiths waiting to sharpen it. Darling.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Show the lovely people what happens when they defy their God.”
A smile creeps across Coin’s face. It mars her; makes her ugly. She taps something into her wristwatch and there is the sound of pressure being released followed by the hungry hiss of steam. Outside it thunders and the cries of the used cease for just a moment.
Then there are the screams.
Trinidad’s face twitches in what might be a smile, but it’s hard to tell. It’s been so long. He heads for the door. “I’m going to meet my trespassers face to face.” He looks around the room, thinking. “And I’d like to see the mountains of Machu Picchu when I return. I think it’s time for something new.”
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There’s a spot of blood on Trinidad’s sleeve. Light streams through the windows in a kaleidoscope of colors—sapphire, scarlet, salmon. The room is made to look like a fortress under the sea. As Trinidad paces before the windows, a small school of damselfish nip at his heels. Coral climb in the rafters and seaweed stretch their leafy arms to caress the creator. The room rocks in an invisible current.
It is all an illusion, of course.
Trinidad waves his arm and the coral reef disappears, replaced by cold marble and chrome. He is not in the mood for fish.
There comes a subtle knock at the door.
“Come in,” he croaks. Trinidad has lived long enough to satisfy the lifespan of several men. His voice cracks—and so does the rest of him.
“Father?” The click of heels on tile echoes around the room. Coin’s hair falls around the small of her back like a field of wheat. She frowns, and somehow her misery makes her even more stunning. “I thought you liked the Great Barrier Reef.”
Trinidad is a vulture perched by the windowsill. “It is tiring. The colors hurt my eyes.”
“Machu Picchu perhaps? Or the Scottish highlands? I also hear that the Amazon is—”
“Be quiet, Coin. Come here. Come look at this.” Coin joins her father by the windowsill. They are on the twenty second floor of Slipstream’s Corporate Super Building. The edifice spans several city blocks, though the twentieth through twenty fifth floors are reserved strictly for Trinidad and his daughter.
Far beneath them a riot has started. There are at least fifteen of them—men and women, some children—who scream obscenities and hurl stones at Slipstream. All of them are without their goggles. A cloud of passersby have gathered to watch and to listen.
Coin gasps. “Father, they’ve—”
“Seen through the magician’s veil? Yes. It only took thirty years. Mice worked it out faster.”
“What should we do?”
“Leave them.”
“But there will be anarchy. There’s only a few now, but you know how these things can escalate. Before long, they will have amassed hundreds. Maybe thousands. Father, you know I’ve always heeded your wisdom, but...”
Trinidad begins to laugh. They first escape in tiny giggles—like a child’s breath—soft and inviting, but they soon graduate to great howls. His voice shudders and breaks. The laugh is something metallic, like a machine, or a monster, or some dying beast. It is horrifying to hear.
He moves away from the window. “Coin, daughter of mine. Do not forget—I saved this people. I made them. I created a world in which they’d live with everything they could possibly want. Where there are those that would defy me, there are a thousand more who would take my side. This is a dull edge to my sword, and I’ve an army of blacksmiths waiting to sharpen it. Darling.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Show the lovely people what happens when they defy their God.”
A smile creeps across Coin’s face. It mars her; makes her ugly. She taps something into her wristwatch and there is the sound of pressure being released followed by the hungry hiss of steam. Outside it thunders and the cries of the used cease for just a moment.
Then there are the screams.
Trinidad’s face twitches in what might be a smile, but it’s hard to tell. It’s been so long. He heads for the door. “I’m going to meet my trespassers face to face.” He looks around the room, thinking. “And I’d like to see the mountains of Machu Picchu when I return. I think it’s time for something new.”