Reflecting light upon the table

We stopped at a rest stop near the freeway. Freeways can be dangerous -- the monotony of them, especially at night with the glow of the headlights, can have an hypnotic effect on people. It's a place ripe for the Grotesque. We figured if we trolled along the highway, checking fellow drivers, we can stop something before it happens.

The rest stop was old and hadn't been cleaned in a while. As I washed my face, I looked into the mirror and someone else looked back.

"You can't scare me," I said. "I know all your tricks."

"alraC ,olleH," the man in the mirror said. "niaga uoy ees ot eciN."

To anyone else, it was gibberish, but I understood it. "Go away, Reversed Man," I said. "I thought you were busy serving the Mother of Snakes anyway."

"tiaw nac selacS gninihS eht fo ydaL ehT," the Reversed Man said.

"Don't let her hear you say that," I said. "What do you want?"

"uoy nraw oT," the Reversed Man said. "raen si sliaN fo pihS ehT."

"I don't know what that means," I said. "But your cryptic warnings are always appreciated."

"uoy tcetorp nac I," the Reversed Man said. "uoy evas nac I." His fingers reached out from the mirror, pushing forward into reality.

"No thanks," I said. "I have my own protector."

Helen stepped out from the stall where she was waiting. The Reversed Man glared at her. Her fists were wrapped in gauze. She wasn't afraid. There was a reason I called her Helen Dauntless.

The Reversed Man's hands reached out for me, but Helen rushed forward and slammed into the mirror with both fists, shattering it into a million little pieces. The Reversed Man could make himself as hard as diamond, but still couldn't withstand Helen. She was Strength incarnate.

As we left the rest stop, Helen asked, "What did he say to you?"

"Something about the Ship of Nails being near," I said.

"I've never heard of it," she said.

"Neither have I," I said, "so let's not worry about it right now." I kissed her and we got into the car. "Let's just drive."

What are the roots that clutch

We stopped at a gas station today. While Helen pumped the gas, I went into the convenience store to pick up more food. The man behind the counter was watching a news report on the television. It was about the recent outbreak in Chicago -- there were images (with the appropriate "graphic warning" beforehand) of people with bark growing from their skin, flowers blooming from their eyes. Officials have lots of names for it, but most people just call it Gaia's Disease.

"What I can't understand," the man behind the counter said, "is why they're keeping them alive?"

"The victims?" I said. "It's not their fault."

"Yeah, but they're spreading it," the man said. "Just kill them all and burn the place down, that's why I think they should do."

Burn Chicago to the ground. That would solve one problem and bring up a host of others. Better not tell him about the Burning Bride or the Chariot, however. Stay off the radar, Carla.

"Just these," I said as I put the bundle of sandwiches and water on the counter. I handed him a credit card that wasn't mine, but I knew would work. The transaction went through perfectly. "Thanks."

The man turned back to the television, still reporting death and destruction. I left him to it.

A heap of broken images

So here's the deal: the Fears showed up a long time ago. Nobody's sure how long ago, but there have been reports of some of them going back as far as the 12th century. Recently, however, sightings of them have risen dramatically. People began talking about them openly, rather than writing about them as if they were myths. Some of this can probably be attributed to the spread of the internet, but the increase of Fear activity is also related to something else.

Do you know what an anthropomorphic personification is? The attribution of human characteristics on anything that is not human. Turning something that's not a person into a person.

Fairy tales do this a lot. Rabbits talk and look at pocket watches. Bears and panthers raise humans as their own. Animals are made more human-like.

But what about things that aren't alive? What about abstract concepts?

The Fisher King was said to be the personification of his kingdom. When he was injured, so was his land. His land was dying and so was he.

The Fears have been around for a long time. Fear is one of the oldest emotions. But it is not the only one. And it is not the only thing that has been personified now. They are popping up more and more often. One day, you are a librarian-in-training and the next you are the personification of knowledge.

It was slightly disconcerting.

I know things, but I don't know why. Why all of this is happening. Sunspots? Cosmic radiation? Disturbances in the Dreamtime? No idea. I'm not omniscient.

But when I close my eyes, when I concentrate, I know things that I shouldn't know. I know when and where things are going to happen. I know where to find food and water. I know where to avoid danger...and where to find it.

With the increase in personifications, the Fears have upped their presence. Do they fear us? Probably not. Even for all my power, I am barely a blip to them. I can't fight them.

But I know how to find them. I know how to avoid them. And I can spread that knowledge. That's my job.

"They called me the hyacinth girl."

My name is Carla Nevers.

It is not my real name. I haven't used by real name in a very long time. I tend to change the name I use every few years, just for practical purposes. I've been using Carla Nevers for the past few months and I've gotten used to it. I like it.

I have another name, however, a name that never changes: the Hierophant.

The streets outside are cold. Gray clouds are gathering in the sky. It's going to rain pretty soon. I can feel it coming. There's a tingling sensation, a feeling that comes before a lightning strike. I get that feeling before there's a storm. I'm never caught unaware -- I always have my umbrella when I need it.

Of course, I have lots of things before I need them (money, fake ID, a weapon). Because I know when I need them. I know lots of things.

I am the Hierophant. I am the Teacher, the Imparter of Knowledge. Which means I know things. Lots of things.

Helen's almost back. We're going to have to move on soon. It was nice staying in a hotel for the past week, but now it's back to sleeping in the car, until we find the next place where we're needed.

We're not running. We're moving up the coast, following a pattern so obscure it's invisible. But I know where it is. I know lots of things.

We're following the Fears.

My name is Carla Nevers. I am the Hierophant.

Welcome to the Waste Land.