TELO’S JOURNAL

Phido is just sprawled there on the ground, his tongue wrapped around the artifact, and I’m in the precarious situation of needing to pry it lose so we can wake the bumbling aphid and get moving — wherever it is we are going. It needs to be understood that the first time I touched that thing… well… the things I saw were beyond description. And part of me… well, to be perfectly honest… was hoping for another glimpse, consequences be damned. But nothing happened. Not a fizzle. Not a shock. Not a spark of tingly quivers in my arm. Nothing. Did something happen to the artifact? Or did something happen to me?

TRANSCRIPT

[Telo kneels beside Phido, prepping to pry the artifact from his slippery grasp, the aphid still unconscious on ground. He braces for another shock, anticipating the blinding flash of vision that had stuck him when he first gripped it from the pile in the wilds. But nothing happens, and Stan urges them -- rudely -- onward as Telo drops the chip into his pack.]

TELO: I need to get this chip away from him somehow. Brace me for a…

TELO: Huh? Nothing.

STAN: Stow it ant, and let’s get going.

TELO: But… that’s strange.

8R4D’s Journal

Artists prerogative… I reserve the right to tweak the design of the artwork whenever I feel it necessary. Define “necessary” you demand? Alright… so not exactly necessary, but whenever the whim strikes my fancy, whatever that means. I do add, however, that I was feeling a little constrained by the frames I’d built and as strange as it might seem to fix that constraint by shrinking the boxes a little more and adding a bit of whitespace betwixt them, there is a much airier feel in such an act, I assure.

This is Part 3 of 24 of Chapter Two | Originally Posted 2010-06-05