It was a stark drawback. Vermilion Sands was a big parking lot surrounding a strange mall .On the outskirts a huge WhistleBlower Tower was hiding between the dawn and the dusk. You never know what time it is in Vermilion Sands, but the year is always 0. Witchdoctor was wandering around the dunes around the parking lot, full of decaying plastic and thorn papers floating in sand. The sea bed was a brown dusty crack .The blue was gone.Gotham city was spreading around in all colors of late Bauhaus gray.
WD was combing the dunes in search.Maybe, just maybe if he could find a small fragment of the iron sound sculpture left and lost in the silently screaming dunes.The last remnant of the Lorraine Drexel sound sculpture which he wanted to hear and grow at home in his garden.
Swarms of bees with big golden eyes were approaching the dunes from the direction of the WhistleBlower Tower. WD shot a glance at his antispyware watch and got the confirmation. They were on him, scanning and collecting information. The net was closing, but he did not give a toss, trusting in his mutating identity shield.
Suddenly he got a glimpse of an iron fragment, big as a finger,covered with trembling buds.He bowed pretending to inspect the piece of a floating paper, sending quantum signals of thinking about Aurora Day and her hand written poetry which once was inundating Vermilion Sands. He pocketed the faint screeching iron piece and threw away the piece of paper, a thorn leaflet of the shopping mall.Aurora Day was writing on perfumed paper, not on garbage and the spy bees did not have any information to connect anything with Aurora Day, they had the zero year and zero time span of information, the past was deleted and the future was always at zero.For them he was only a wandering bum who went astray from Gotham.
Between the garbage dunes, a small figure was coming towards.
She had this familiar plait hair, gray from the swirling time and she was intent on combing the dunes, too.
“ Hi there, Greta” WD greeted the low small figure bent by time and endless search.
“ Hi there Stranger” Greta replied “How do you know my name?”
“ That is easy” WD said smiling “I know the syndrome,it is yours and mine, and I know how it works. So I figured, you must live at the WhistleBlowers Tower?”
“ Yes. I am on a day leave” Greta replied.
“Good behavior?” Wd winked
“ Sort of, they say.They leave me out, cause I have to find somethin”
“Like?” WD enquired
“Like some life, a plant maybe or something” Greta was staring at the dunes and the brown sea cracks in the distance.
“ Well , that will be a first sign of disorder, you do not think so?” WD looked in her eyes.
“Hmm, I know, but I am attracted to it” Greta said searchingly.
“ Me too, but , you know, it is the music which heals the difference and exclusion” WD smiled, touching his iron piece which was humming in his pocket..
Greta was silent, nodding.
“ By the way. How is Julian Assange doing in the WhistleBlowers Tower?”WD tentatively asked.
“He is raving mad, telling everybody it is a frame and a huge conspiracy” Greta was laughing.
“ And you?”
“ I do not know. At the beginning they were all very kind and helpful.
Then they said, doctors included, that I need a controlled environment” Greta bowed her head.
“Greta, I have to go now, this bees around us are getting nervous” WD remarked,“ Say thanks to Julian and say we are all waiting for him to come” WD was slowly parting in opposite direction.
“ Where is that ?‘” Greta was looking bewildered.
“ Oh, it is place called Stonehenge III, he knows. It looks like a huge garden but it is hard to reach from here” WD smiled.
“ Can I come too?’” Greta, with a pleading look glanced at WD.
“ Anytime, but you must know, first sack them and do not ask them”
“ How can I do it ? “
“ You will find out eventually” WD turned and walked….
Well, folks,Time has passed and somewhere on the outskirts of Stonehenge III there is a sculpture growing again and humming gently the best, the forgotten and the never heard tunes one can imagine.Rescued from the screaming time of the Vermilion Sands, it grows gently and its iron buds branch and dance by its own music.
Once upon the time WD planted it…. and Lorraine Drexel made it.
WD
Hommage to a great man,a poet and inventor of worlds,a prophet of our kind, James Graham Ballard, passed sometime April…
Witchdoctor