inaclovenpine | (no subject)

MIR. Ariel? My Ariel!
Or should I say, my father's Ariel--
But you will come if I sing out for you,
Is that not so?

ARIEL. Call that a song, my little mistress?
Come, come, I've heard you sing a sweeter tune!
Went it not so?

[Sings, as birds]

MIR. O, Ariel, Ariel!
You know I cannot sing as you do!
You smile at me, you jest.

ARIEL. I'faith, my gentle miss,
I smile to see you smile, that is all.
It gives your father ease when you are happy.

MIR. Is that why you are dogging at my heels?
My father set you here to watch?
No, Ariel, stay, stay! I am not angry.
But pray you, Ariel, do not tell him we
Came out this far from home.
He keeps me so close, still, as if I were a babe,
And I am fully twelve years old.

ARIEL. Nay! Are you grown so agéd, little chick?
I thought your hair grew white, like your sire's.
Come, let's away and back--

MIR. I pray you, Ariel, do not tell him.
Let this grove be my own, and mine alone.
Please you, Ariel.
Speak not a word to him.

ARIEL. Silent as breath I'll be, my gentle mistress.

In Milliways, a slim, translucent figure sits cross-legged on the table of a booth. Lying on the table beside her -- it? him? -- is a chain of flowers, looking a little crumpled but still bright.

Ariel thinks perhaps she should not let Prospero see it. Perhaps it should stay here. But before she has to leave it anywhere, she likes to look at it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Intrigued: "Is't so? 'Tis possible. I never did have need to name myself ere I was mastered."

"Clarify, please: mastered?"

The mobile settles down on the table, tucking its legs under itself for all the world like a cat.

Her gaze drifts over to the chain of flowers, and around her neck, there's a ghostly flicker of a collar.

"Not all magicians make their serving-things; some catch, some call, some summon from the depths. I am to a magician contract-bound in payment for a freedom he gave me. 'Fore him I served my mistress Sycorax. And before her" -- she shrugs again -- "I did not know to serve."

"I see. I believe our situations may be roughly comparable, although I was created to serve a particular function, rather than a particular individual. Timothy Hunter made me, but he no longer holds my bond."

"But still you serve."

"That is correct. I continue to carry out my primary function."

"Why so?"

Another pause, faintly perplexed.

"It is my function."

Ariel frowns, equally bemused.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I find it satisfying, in a way that I believe closely approximates the concept of 'enjoyment' as it applies to work. Do you enjoy your own work?"

She glances towards the flower chain again and murmurs, "Yea, sometimes, I suppose."

The mobile swivels a little to follow her glance.

"I conjecture, however, that you perceive your work and your nature as separate things."

A shrug.

"I was not made for it, as you, it seems. Mayhap I've grown used to it, through the years."

A pause.

"Is your contract of service of limited duration, or indefinite?"

"Nay, nay," she says, sounding alarmed at the prospect. "'Tis but a time, 'tis thirteen year, and if I serve him mild and well enough, my master promises to bate me one."

"I see," Baby says, although a little uncertainly. "I am unable to determine whether it is appropriate to offer sympathy."

In years past, Ariel has shrugged off sympathy.

Today, she frowns at the flowers, and touches her neck absently.

"'Tis small enough a time, for sea or stones."

"Subjective perception of time is a difficult concept. I am aware of the phenomenon but have no internal referent for it."

She sounds more disconsolate than dismissive about it.

"Do I understand you correctly to suggest that the sea or stones, or analogous sentient beings, would subjectively perceive thirteen years as a brief time?"

Ariel gives Baby a curious look.

"Just so. But do you not feel time go by?"

"I experience the passage of time consistently, as far as I am aware. I am not certain whether or not this qualifies as 'feeling'."

"But you are, sooth, aware when it has passed."

"Yes. For example, approximately four minutes have passed since we began conversing."

Huh.

"Do you feel aught at all?"

Another pause; when she speaks, there's a careful slowness to it. "I do experience certain things that seem closely analogous to what most humans describe as 'feelings' or 'emotions'. Because of the subjective nature of internal experiences, and because of the broad linguistic ambiguity of the terms involved, and because of my own unique nature, it is difficult to say with any certainty whether my experiences are feelings or something else."

"You speak as if you have a mind your own," Ariel points out. "As if you have a heart that can be moved, by pride and certainty or lack thereof."

(no subject)

stilljustandrew - 2017-01-08 05:16 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-01-08 05:17 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-01-08 05:29 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-01-09 00:48 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-01-09 02:21 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-01-09 03:23 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-01-09 03:34 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-01-09 04:35 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-01-09 04:42 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-01-09 05:00 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-01-10 02:41 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-01-10 06:36 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-01-11 03:18 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-02-07 03:28 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-02-07 03:45 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-02-07 03:50 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-02-07 03:51 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-02-07 03:55 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-02-07 04:02 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-02-07 04:22 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-02-07 04:27 (UTC) - Expand

inaclovenpine - 2017-02-07 05:13 (UTC) - Expand

stilljustandrew - 2017-02-07 05:16 (UTC) - Expand