Night, April 9th, 1879. Ward's Barn

Some mood music

Nathanial Frost could feel the curse inside him. It churned inside his guts, and though he coughed until he bled, he still couldn't dislodge it.

Damn Ward. Damn him to Hell for this.

The curse was consuming him, and Nathanial knew it. He'd seen what Ward's curses could do, and he had no illusions that he would, indeed, be dead within a week. He doubted he would last even that long.

He wouldn't go without a fight, though.

He crawled into the barn. He'd seen Ward calling his spirits here...well, he intended to summon one of his own.

Gus had told him the story of how Tex had come to be the way he was. Nathanial had learned well. He could call the same spirit that had granted Tex his incredible powers. All Nathanial had to do was make a deal...he wasn't using his soul anyhow.

Nathanial knelt at the circle etched into a giant marble slab in the center of the barn. He pulled his bowie knife, and tried to remember how Gus said he'd called the thing before.

The barn had a large brass firebowl tucked away in the corner. Nathanial struggled to move the damn heavy thing into position, then filled the bottom with coal. He also added some kerosene, some hay, and a few small chunks of Ghost Rock. He struck a match and stood a good few feet back before tossing it in to the bowl.

A change of mood.

There was a *WOOSH!* as the flames caught the kerosene. Smoke begain to rise, dark at first, but then lightening to a ghostly pale as the distinctive wail of burning Ghost Rock rose up from the flames.

Now came the Chant. "Oh mighty Tezcatlcoatl, Serpent of the Smoking Mirror, I beseech you to come forth and...and..." Aw, Hell. How did the chant go again? Fuck it. "I want you to come here so we might make a deal."

The smoke from the fire suddenly began to waver and twist unnaturally. The smoke took on the appearance of a coiled serpent with two glowing embers for eyes, and the wailing of the coal began to sound more like the shake of a monumental rattlesnake.

"Y̨o̴u̢ hav͜e s̡u͘mmo͞nèd ͢m͢e, ̕a͏nd ͠I̛ have͞ c͜o͞me͝.̴" hissed a voice from the coiling cloud. "Wh͡y ̡a̢ve ͢yo̵u̴ ̴d̡o̵ne҉ ̕thi̸s, a̷n͜d ͝what͏ ́do͜ y̡ou o͢f͝f͜er͠ to ̀s͢at҉e m͜y wra̴th̴ ́at being͜ ̧ca͜l͘le̕d̷ ̸fòr͝th?̛"

"Er...offer?" Nathanial gulped. Gus hadn't mentioned anything about making no damn offer! Hastily he searched through his pockets. "Um...shit. I-I got some gold dollars..."

"Go̸l͡d̢?" the serpent hissed. The rattling began to shake the walls of the barn. "Yo̴u͠ th͡ink I͡ ͘want ̧y͟our̡ f͏il͝th͠y ̶ǵol̴d?͡ ̷A̸f͏tȩr͠ the mùrde͜ŗe̷ŗ Cort́es sl͝a̷ug͝hter͜e̢d my p̡eople̸ i͡n̷ se̴ar͘c͜h͏ ͢o͡f it̕?" Nathanial only had time to yelp as the fanged maw of the smoke-snake opened and darted towards him. Instead of being swallowed, however, nathanial found himself staring into a pair of burning coals as the serpent gazed at him. he could feel the heat of that gaze blistering his skin. "Y̡ou i͏nśul̵t me,͠ ̢h͡u͏ma͞n.͢"

"OhJesusdon'tkillmepleasedon'tkillme" Nathanial whimpered. A foul smell filled the air as a wet stain formed on the crotch of his pants.

"A͠h̛.̡..yès.̡ Yo̢u͜r f̶e̕ar ͠i̵s͘ ͡in͞to̕x̀i̢c̴a̵ti̡n̡g̡.́" The serpent muttered, and the smoke coiled back near the brazier. "I̸ a̧c͝c̶ep͠t ̛your ҉off̧e̡ri̢ng,҉ hu̧m̡an. ͝S̶t̴ate y̷o̢u̕r͜ ͜des̨i͏r̢e,̷ ̧a҉n͠d̶ w̛e̶ sha͡l̷l̷ s̸e͝e w̛hat b͞a̧r̡gai̶ns̵ m͡aý bé ̕m͠ad͡ę."

Nathanial swallowed, then coughed. The coughing fit wracked his body as the curse ate into him. He knelt by the circle in the marble slab and picked his words. "Oh Mighty Serpent, I want what you done for Gus and Tex. I want you to make me immortal."

The serpent seemed to smile. "Immort̨a̷l?̛ ̵A ͘bo͢on̷ not ͠giv́en̛ lig͜h͟tly. What d̡o ͞y͜o͡u̴ of̧f͢ęr ҉in̨ ̨re̛tu͝rn?̢"

"I-I offer you my soul, oh Mighty Serpent." Nathanial replied.

"Yo͘ur͠ so̕ul͝?̶ ͜Wh̷at͟ ́so̕rt ̀of be̛iņg do͘ y͢où thiņk̸ ͠I̷ ͝am,̶ ̷huma̡n?̀" the serpent replies with a sibilant chuckle. "A͝ ̧şoul iş worth les̨s̴ ̛tha͝n̴ not̛hing͞ ͝tò me, and̡ ́I͢ c͡òul̀d̕ no͘t take̕ ̛it ͘e̡v͝e͠n͟ ͡if͝ I͡ ̧wan͢ted͟ ít,̷ f̀or͠ ̕m̸o͞r̸tal s͢ouls ͡are͞ ̸t͟h͜e ̢pr͡opert̶y of̛ Mićt͞l̵an̷tecu͠ht̨li̷,̢ wḩom I͜ ͘w͞o͢u̴ļd ̡never̢ c̛ro͢s͠s. ̨And͜ ͘if͠ ͝y͡o͜u'̛r̷e s͞o̵ ̡q͜ui̧c̶k̢ ̷t͘o ͝of̷f͡ęr̶ it͞, it ͡mu̧s͟t not̛ be wor̸t̵h ͢m̕úch to ̸y̢ou̵, ͜ei̷the̵r.̴ Y̷ou ẁill hav̷e͜ to ͠m͞ak̛e ̛a be̵tter͘ offe͢r t̴hán ̀t̵hat, h̕um̀a̷n̶."

Nathanial began to sweat. He thought all demons wanted souls...what the hell else did he have to offer?

The minutes ticked by as he struggled to think of an answer.

"I̵t ̵s̀eems ͝y͘o͡u̸ ̸a̡re̢ a ͟ver̛y͟ g͞r͞eat fo͘ol,̛ ͟huma̷n." The serpent remarked. "T̸el̶l ͜me,̡ ̶wh̸at led ͘you t̨o ͘s͞e͝e͠k me ͘ou̕t͞ ͠fór͢ a b͘ar̷gain ͞i͘n̷ ̵th͘e firs̛t p͢l̡a̶ce? Hel͜p̡ ̴me ̸u͝ndȩrs͟ta͟nd̡ your͘ situat͝ion͘."

So Nathanial did. The words just tumbled out, about the failed raid to chase the nosy Marshal out of town, about Ward and his magic and the great envy Nathanial had of his powers, of the curse Ward placed on him that was slowly eating him alive, of his fear of dying.

The serpent listened to the gunman's tale. Finally, it asked a question. "T̡e̴l̴l̶ ͝me̛, humań...͝ẁhich ͝d͘o yo̡u͘ f̸e̛ar͟ mo̢r̢e̢?͜ ͝T͟he de͞a̷th,͜ or̀ t̴he͟ s̕l̶o̵w ̨d͡ying͟ l̸eádin͠g̴ t̷ó ́i̛t?͟"

"What difference does that make?"

"All̢ ̛t̵he ͝d̵iff̶e͞renc͢e. I c̷an spar͡e͠ you̴ ͞fr͞om one, b̡u͞t ̶n͟ơt ͞t̕h͠e oth̴e͝r. ̀Y̧o̡ur f̢rien͞d ̡Gu͜s̕ ͞un͢ders̶tơod th̕is̡ whe͟n ͘he͡ ̵m̢ad̨e ͟his pact.̧"

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"L̴e͠t me ̶m̸aḱe it si͝m͝ple͠. ͜I can̵ ͡a̵r̛ran̡g̀e ̨f͢o͜r̕ ͞y̢ou to͡ ͡s͢ur͘viv̡e y͡o͜u̸r c̸omin̸g̶ ̶de̷ath, b̢ut͘ you̧ w͟o̴ul̛ḑ ͡then c͘a̸rr͡y̷ a͘ cur͘se ̡fo̶re̡ve͜r. Ór, I̸ can s͠p͡a͜r̷è y̡ou th̨e ̀p̵ain o͞f̀ ḑying̢,̧ ͢quic̵kl̸y͟ a̶n̶d̷ ͞p͠ainl͠ès̢sly͞, ̡but ͢yo̵u ͜w̵ould̛ be ́dead for̛ev͟er.͜ ͟W̸h̡ich w̸o͞u͞ld y͠o̡u͞ p͜r̕efer?͡"

Nathanial thought long and hard. He didn't look forward to this "being cursed forever" business, but Gus didn't seem to have it too badly. Sure, Tex was a horror show, but even being turned into something that powerful had an appeal, when Nathanial got right down to it.

"If that first one, the being cursed forever, is what Gus done, then I'll do that." Nathanial said.

"E̷x̛c̶ellen͟t. The͘n͘ ͡h̨e̛ŗe̷ ̡is wha͜t͘ y͠ou̷ ̴w͜įll͠ do̧. ̧Yo͜u͡ ̕will ͠dó ͝as̀ Ẁar̷d͟ ţo̴ld̴ ͠you,͡ a̕nd̴ t̴urn̡ yo̡ur̡self ͝in ̶t̀o ̸t̛he͜ ́M͟ar͟s͟h̵al. ̢Y͢o̕u̶ wil͡l̨ ͝a̴cc͠e̛pt̷ ͡wh͟a̸teve͜r ̵judgment͡ ̡i͜s m̨ade a̴g̛ains̕t͢ yo͞u̢, ev̵e͞n̕ ͠íf it̢ ͜w̴o͞u͟ld ̨l̴ead t̶o d͢ea͝th̢. ́Wit̴h̕ ̢my͘ bless͘įn̶g͡, y͡o͞u ͘w̴il̢l ͜be͠ abĺe ͢to̷ ͢sh̡ed̡ your͢ pro͜bl͟em͞s ̛a̢nd́ be̷g̶in͜ a̵ņe̛w̶.͝ ͝Is t̕h̵i̢s acc͢epta͘ble?͝"

"I suppose so." Nathanial grumbled.

"O̵ņe m͞ore͜ t͝h͜i̴n͘g̴. You ̶will̴ no̵t̛ ̀att͟èm̛pt tò s̀e̸ek̷ r͡ev̢en̴ge ͠aga͠i͞n̷şt͘ ̨W̛a̸rd̡. Nor͢ ̀will ̸you̷ a̶tte͝mpt ̸to̴ s͡abo͠tage thé e͠ff̡or͝t̵s ͢he͟ ̡h͝a͢s͞ ̨m̡aḑe.̷ ̵If ̕y͟ou ͜d͝o ́thi͢s,͜ I wi̕l̶l rev̧okȩ ̧my ble̡s̕s̕ing̶, a͜n̢d̸ ̸you ẁi͟ll di͢e ̷i͟n p͞ain. Ar̡e ͟we understoo̕d̸?"

"Fine." Nathanial grumbled again in irritation. "Can we get this over with?"

"Ho̕ld͟ ͢o͟u̸t͘ you̧r ar̵m." The serpent instructed.

Nathanial did so, and the serpent struck. Smoggy fangs bit deep into the flesh, and the man screamed as the venom burned in the wound. Everything began to go dark...

"A final͢ ́wa̧rnińg͟. The şn̴ake̸ i̴s not i͡mmun͘e̢ t͘o̶ ̀it'̧s ͝o̡wņ bite͠." the serpent whispered as Nathanial collapsed.

He wondered what that meant as unconsciousness claimed him.

_{[[OOC: Important note! Trying to summon evil spirits is a bad idea, and can lead to being possessed, making foolish deals for power, the disfavor of your religion's supreme being, and itchy rashes. Please don't attempt this at home!]]}

April 10th, 1879. Dr. Ward's house.

Charging Bear dreams:

Charging Bear sits, sleeping upright in his chair, the cat still on his lap. He dreams...

[Private to Charging Bear: The land is shaking. Everywhere the Snake burrows, the ground shakes. It knocks over trees, drains lakes, tears apart the walls of the white man's buildings.

On the horizon, the hawk shrieks, and bolts of lighting spear the water. Winds gust at the beat of its wings, bringing rain and hail and thunder. The hawk is not inside the coming storm...it is the storm. It circles towards the land, crying thunder.

The earth snake rears, bursting forth from beneath. It is coal black, with flecks of white gems for eyes. Its tale rattles as it coils, waiting for the storm hawk to reach it.

The two figures lunge towards each other, crushing everything between them as the struggle. The hawk's talons sink deep into the earth snake, but the snake's fangs find the storm hawk's wing...]

Charging Bear blinks awake. The cat in his lap has moved. It is now standing on its hind legs, its forepaws resting on his chest. The cat is level with him, its yellow eyes staring into his as if it's trying to tell him something through force of will alone.

Then the cat licks his nose, jumps to the ground, and walks out the door, leaving Charging Bear alone in the room with the dawn breaking through the windows behind him.

---

Augustus Spotswood dreams:

Completely unconscious, Augustus doesn't notice the somewhat ungentle ways Alouette positions him in the laundry room. He doesn't move at all. He doesn't groan. But he dreams...

[Private to Augustus Spotswood: The cliff is sheer, and the ledge he clings to is crumbling. Pebbles and dirt slip through his fingers as Augustus tries to pull himself up and over, and he finds himself making no progress at all. He can make out a pair of booted feet near the edge, and he knows somehow they do not belong to anyone friendly to him.

"Do you need help again? You know you can't do it on your own." A voice from above the boots whispers. "You should know how, but you don't, do you?"

Augustus opens his mouth to protest. He starts to recite his multiplication tables to the speaker, to prove he knows many things, but all he recites is gibberish.

Below him is a river, and the river is made of an endless herd of cows, flowing slowly to the horizon.

"Want me to give you a hint? Sound is not the key. Sound is just noise. There must be a will behind the sound, to shape it from noise to meaning. What is the meaning? Where is the will?"

Augustus asks for help, as his precarious position worsens. The pebbles slip, the ledge crumbles away, and the stream of cows below him moo and low as the flow around the world, towards a green flame...]

The dream ends as Augustus blinks awake to the smell of starch and cotton. He has been laid on a hard shelf somewhere...there is a feeling of space around him that tells him he's not anywhere near the ground. At least his head is resting on something soft...it feels like a towel. It is very dark...the only light comes from the crack under the door.

Alouette, meanwhile, has left its kitchen post for a bit to get as high as it possibly can (fortunately it can't get onto the roof) and welcome the first light of dawn with...what might generously be called "singing". It's melodious enough, if one assumes it's the sound of a brass band being murdered.

Sweat rolled the native son's brow and into his eyes. A few harsh blinks and a wipe of his sleeve cleared the salt laden water. His right hand reached up on its own to the doll about his neck. The doll's little feet were now stained reddish-brown from Charging Bear's own blood which had been spilled the night before. Looking down he frowned at the poor doll's state, "I should clean her doll." his eyes move around the room to a small basin and pitcher of water by a small mirror.

With unsteady hands Charging Bear pours the water in the basin. He lifted the leather necklace over his head and slowly put the small doll in the basin, only up to its waist. With great care he began rubbing the doll's legs between thumb and forefinger to remove the blood stains. The work was slow but he continued as his mind thought of the dream that had invaded his sleep that night. The serpent and the hawk ... kill each other and all those around ...

He looked back toward the door that the cat had just left out of, "A warning from the spirits no doubt... but who is the serpent and who is the hawk." Looking back down at the doll he noted that the cleaning was done and carefully dried the toy on a nearby towel. Returning the necklace to its place, Charging Bear thought more on the dream and the possible meanings. Something in him rumbled, he realized that last night's meal had be interrupted unexpectedly, and he was quite hungry.

"I won't get much of anything done or figured out without something to eat." with that he headed downstairs to the singing of Alouette wondering what the noise was.

Eyes blinking rapidly, Augustus awakes, muttering, "...aaaAAH!  The cows!"  In his startlement he nearly falls clear off his "bed," but manages to reflexively catch himself before tumbling off into space.  With so little clues as to where he might be, he settles back down and says quietly to the darkness, "Hello?  Hello?  I seem to be lost again...  Though I can't hear any cows this time, which is an improvement."  He pauses a moment, then adds even quieter, "You're right...the cows /could/ be sleeping..."

Abraham's day started with the somewhat melodious sounds of a brass band being rolled down a hill, which was something of an unusual thing to be woken by out here on the coastal plains. His body protested to being woken in such a manner, but as it was near time for him to greet the day and begin his duties he ignored the complaints from his aging joints.

He attended to nature's call, then washed and dressed. Then he went to the balcony and checked on what was making the noise. As he suspected, it wasn't anything dangerous...just the curious mechanical automaton that had followed Master Ward home yesterday and had caused an endless series of interesting events since. Since this latest event wasn't in the process of setting the house on fire again, he decided to let the machine be. He had never really understood all this scientific stuff anyway.

He passed Georgia, the master's pet cat, slinking out of the guest room, and heard the sounds of their guest stirring. Georgia curled up around his leg and gave him a look that he, through long experience, knew meant "please feed me." He picked the cat up and headed downstairs to begin breakfast.

The kitchen was a disaster, and Abraham had a feeling the automaton was to blame. He sighed and put it back into a semblance of order before collecting ingredients for a quick breakfast for everyone. He put the oven on and went to the pantry...and was suddenly reminded that he'd stored a corpse there last night when it collapsed on him. He let out a short, discreet yelp as his heart skipped a beat. He took a moment to let his temper settle before collecting the foodstuffs and manhandling the body back in, locking the door behind him. He noticed that one of the sausage strings was missing--probably lifted by one of the cattlehands.

He was reminded that all the dairy products had been placed outside, and went to retrieve whatever hadn't been taken by any passing animals. The milk jug was untouched, but the cheese was gone. Sigh. Abraham made a mental note to add that to the shopping list. he returned inside and began to cook.

After about an hour, the meal was almost ready. And that was when Abraham head the commotion in the laundry room.

He casually pulled a knife (it paid to be prudent) and cautiously opened the door a crack. "Hello? Who's in there?" he asked the gentleman perched on the shelf.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:18, Tue 14 Sept 2010.

Whilst Charging Bear is engaged in whatever tiding-over activity he might be before breakfast, there's a familiar tread on the stairs, light and elegant as a fairy elephant with a peg leg. The automaton has felt itself in lack of the wounded ex-sergeant's presence - now that presence has been given to it, it selects the reaction for being given a wanted thing: it squeaks like a delighted little girl and attempts to hug Charging Bear.

"Howdy, Called Charging Bear! Did God fix you? You leaked lots..." it observes. It seems to have picked up a vegetable steamer on its travels.

Then it notes the pantry door is slightly ajar. "! Not good! Advise stay back, Called Charging Bear," it tells him, and begins stalking up to the pantry like a coyote might stalk up on an abandoned cheese for no reason the native can see.

Accepting and returning the hug, Charging Bear lets out a slight groan and says "Hello Alouette." in a bit of a strained voice. When the hug ends and the metal angel inquires of his status, he says "I'm on the mend, Dr Ward knows his craft at the very least."

Charging Bear watches Alouette pad towards the pantry with a look of curiosity, though he notes that Abraham is doing similarly.

The pantry door, if it seemed ajar at first, turns out to be secured and locked.

It's the laundry room, from which emanates a strange muttering about cows, that Abraham is headed toward, kitchen knife at the ready.

[Private to Augustus Spotswood: Still waiting for Augustus to respond to Abraham...]

With a chuckle, Charging Bear walks to where Alouette is. "I think things in the behind the locked door are alright. I'm going to see about some breakfast."

Alouette gives the door a curious poking, then leans back to see where the butler went. "Not stab AUG-US-TUS, My Man Abraham!"

Apparently satisfied that he won't, the nut and boltcase hastens back to Charging Bear's side. "Danny Albatross is in the cold food room because Dr.Ward did not want self to take him to church...the cattlehands wanted to burn him or put him in the pit where the bodies are buried, but that is plus plus unsafe...his blood has much infection and witchcraft and he might be a wendigo now."

It pauses a moment to knock on the pantry door.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:24, Tue 14 Sept 2010.

In reply to Abraham (msg #6):

At the voice, Augustus gets very quiet.  Gulping slightly, he answers back cautiously, "M-Mr. Spotswood is in here.  Though he is not very sure where /exactly/ here is.  He is...  I...  I am in darkness, both literally and figuratively.  Would you be able to assist me?"  Another pause as his mind whirls again.  This time, a much quieter, more to himself, "Unless of course I'm still dreaming...  you are right.  I could be.  Its very hard to tell in the dark."

Abraham pauses, both at Alouette's call and Mr. Spotswood's reply. Well, at least the knife was unnecessary. Not a prowler, not a wild animal. Still..."I bet you're responsible for this." He says, looking at Alouette poking about the pantry. There's no reply at the automaton's knock. "Look. Would you please leave the kitchen and wait in the dinning room? You've caused enough damage here already."

He sets the knife down. "Mr. Spotswood? This is Abraham. I'm coming in now." He says as he opens the door fully, letting more light in. He looks at the man on the shelf, and offers a hand for him to take. "You're alright. You're in the laundry room. I think your mechanical friend put you here, though I haven't a clue as to why...there's a perfectly serviceable bed in the guest room upstairs, and I know that it's seen it at least once. If you're hungry, I'm serving some breakfast now."

"Were you talking to someone else?" he asks as he helps Augustus down from the ledge.

"Not damage, My Man Abraham..." the clank protests mildly. True, rice probably isn't usually kept in precise little piles around the counter, nor the tureens on the floor or the spoons in the coal scuttle, but it's been careful not to hurt anything. "-world differently arranged."

It's not sure which room is the dining room, but it'll happily clank after Charging Bear as he moves towards the smell of food. "Not good to use blankets after sick person - sickness can stay," it remarks, then pauses, unsure why it knew that.

"Look," it shows Charging Bear its new favourite thing, the vegetable steamer. "Object of unknown function..." it moves one section, causing the others to close slightly, quite fascinated. "...it is a little bit like God."

Looking over the rearranging that Alouette has done, Charging Bear shakes his head with a smile, "I think Abraham is less than thrilled at your causing change to his space my dear Alouette. I have always found that cooks like to know exactly where their supplies are so they can work quickly. This makes them creatures of habit."

Moving towards the drawings room so that he and the tin-can angel won't draw the wrath of Abraham, he looks at the steamer and nods, "I suppose if I believed in god I would understand that better."

In reply to Abraham (msg #13):

Augustus heaves a sigh of relief at both the coming of the light and the coming of Abraham.  With a smile, he gladly accepts the help down from his accidental perch, "Thank you, Abraham, a biblical name for a saint of a man.  Appropriate."  As to the question of speaking to someone else, he lifts a curious brow, "There's no one else here.  To whom would I have spoken?"  Once he's back on his feet, he is forced to cough quite a bit, scrambling for his handkerchief but instead settling on a handful of once-clean linens.  Apparently lying down too long only makes his condition worse.  Once the fit dies down, he will carefully wrap up the linen and offer it to Abraham, muttering, "I'm...very sorry..."  Embarrassed, he will grab up his bags and hat, hustling off to the dining room to join the others.

Charging Bear turns to the new comer, Spotswood, and nods. "I don't believe we've properly met mister...?" He extends his hand towards the well dressed fellow.

"I had my world arranged as I liked it, thank you kindly." Abraham mutters as he shoos the contraption away. He decides to let it play with the vegetable steamer for now. He gives Charging Bear a look of relief as the Indian draws the machine away.

As he helps Augustus down, he frowns only slightly at the comment about his name...the name his father had given him was Obayana, and the man who first called him Abraham had been far from a saint. But he let the comment pass without remark, since he'd been Abraham now for nearly 40 years.

"I don't know, sir. It just sounded like you were talking to someone, and it wasn't me." He says as he leads Augustus to the dining room. He takes the soiled linens but, remembering the machine's admonishment about sickness remaining behind, decided to discard them instead of laundering them, and added "new sheets" to his growing shopping list.

He returned to the kitchen and finished his preparations, retrieving his set-aside knife as he does so. "Would you folks prefer coffee or orange juice?" he called out as he prepared platters.

Alouette takes this in with what's probably keen interest, glancing back to better memorise what a creature of habit looks like. It offers the steamer to Charging Bear at his words, placing it gently in his hands if he'll take it.

"God is," it says, then points at the holes. "Spaces are like spirits - example: your spirit, spirit of Dandelion, snake spirit living in Gus Shaw, all the angels - they are not God, but they are in the Great Spirit, part of Him. Without them, God would not be God, function; He would just Be. Aether, like metal." It pokes a segment, raising the rest like a metal flower. "Also, it cannot move one piece above another: all move equally because that is what Is, how it works..."

It tilts its head at the steamer. "Some look on top, but that is only because they overlap lots...look, little force at one hole, if pushing the right way, moves segment...segment moves the right way with the...everything, and-" the self-declared angel looks up at Charging Bear over the closed-up vegetable steamer, "-it Does. Called Charging Bear understands now?"

The automaton starts craning to see what's in the various pots, jars and cups on the breakfast table, remarking: "It is also shiny: God is shiny. Howdy AUG-US-TUS!"