S1E4 - Into the Wanderers' Library - Episode 4 - Homebound Letter

There we go. Hey. How you doing, Theo? Just figured I'd send you this because I have been reading one of the many, many, many, many, many stories that you suggested. And honestly, I. I think the bit that I've been reading recently would be quite a fun, fun thing to have as. As an episode of into the Wanderer's Library, so. And also, it's just. I know you like hearing me read, and I know that Marie and Grace like hearing me read to them. As to the rest of them, I feel bad not mentioning them. Mind you, I have to be careful now, because I'm fairly certain, fairly certain, the higher ups assigned to vet some of these. But I know you. You're. You're a clever boy and you're a good editor, so you'll clip this out before they can get it. But you know what? Tell you what. I'm gonna do this, right? I'm gonna do this professionally because I'm a very professional boy. Mostly. Shut up. So, hello to all and welcome back to into the Wanderer's Library. Sorry, bit giggly. Wasn't expecting to do an episode today, but decided to do one because there is a story that I am quite keen on sharing. It is called. Well, I say story. It's more passage. Actually, no, it is a complete story. It is a complete story. It is called A Restless Wanderer on the Earth. And it is by the Deadly. Yeah, this made me giggle last summer. It's by someone called the Deadly Moose. Don't mind the rustling. That's just my almonds. I require constant almonds. I've been very snacky. Very, very snacky ever since they brought in that last librarian who's disappeared again, as people are want to do. Probably got lost somewhere in the C section. But enough rambling. Ladies and gentlemen and trees and multiformes, I give you a Restless Wanderer on the Earth by the Deadly Moose. Read once again by your humble host, Professor Artyom Harkin. Now a possible memory. Bluebird frowned. Oh, hey, I got a text message from you. Sorry. Sorry, Theo. That's. That's me being. I got a message from you and I saw the notification and it made me happy. You can keep that in. You can keep that in. I'm not ashamed of you. Far from it. But back to the story. Now a possible memory. Bluebird frowned at the oblong glass shard in the merchant's hand. Why would I pay so much for a possible memory? The merchant smiled a little instead of replying. Bluebird found this merchant was always a little exasperating. She always had this smug, detached attitude, but she still managed to be adorable. Reminds me of someone as adorable as one of Dark's people could ever be. Anyway, two reasons, the merchant said. One, the age. You'll find that the age of this possible memory is in the uncountable eons, but as old as my mum. Then I'm not convinced, bluebird said. I've paid for many an ancient memory that contained nothing but unsurpassed dullness. And this is a possible memory, so it may be altered in any number of irritating ways. Then the second reason? The merchant smiled. The one for whom this possible memory was acquired. Bluebird folded zir arms to emphasize their skepticism. Who? The merchant. The merchant opened a small lamp and focused it until it emitted only a single ray of light, especially bright in the dim fog of the shadow market. She rubbed the shard and held it up to the ray of light. Look and see. Bluebird leaned over to look. Their eyes widened as z saw the images dancing through the murky glass. Yes, bluebird said. I will pay for this. I will pay whatever you ask for this. Then the man found Cain Benadam in the endless wildernesses of the between places. The man was beautiful to look upon, with bronze skin and shaggy black hair. His clothing was cut of animal skin, of fashions pleasing to the eye. But Cain was not pleased to see him. The man knew his name. I am a priest, the man said. A year ago you passed through my village. I wished to follow you then, but I was held back by the others. Then the crop failed and a plague swept through our village. Only I was able to save myself. And then, since there were none to hold me back. I have searched for you since. And now I have finally found you. Kain frowned. He tried to wander only those lands where the soil was wild and sufficed with power enough to resist his curse, or as lands where the inhabitants knew how to refresh the lands which his curse had made barren. When he needed to pass through civilization, he avoided the fields. He long ago discovered that his curse had a limit 48 cubits around him, or a length similar to 12 times his own height, enough to judge with the naked eye, but that did not account for the times he was not fully aware, often taken with wanderlust, sometimes not even fully awake. He would walk in a trance according to where his feet took him alone. After these periods he would awake, having destroyed the entire harvest for a village. I am truly sorry, cain said. The man looked astonished. You are Cain, the wanderer far of the lost children and the great beasts. You are the God of death. The other gods, the lesser gods, could not save my village. I worship them once. I despise them now. I come now to worship you. They were my family, Cain said. Even if they were not, I cannot be pleased about bringing more death to those who do not deserve it. You are testing me, my lord. The man's teeth gleamed. I promise you, I will not disappoint you. I will become your follower and your priest. Foolish Cain said, and continued walking. The man followed him. In the beginning, for long after the branding, Cain told himself that nothing had changed. His curse would not matter. He would make it not matter. He swallowed his sorrow and guilt and resolved to carry on. He went to the land of Nod, the wandering land. There his curse could not touch the land, for it was too wild to even support crops and the life there too resilient and alien. Dwelling there seemed to calm the wanderlust that had suffused. Suffused? Suffused him. Since the branding, he would build a life in Nod, he determined. A settled, stable life. And it would be as if nothing happened. And Kane found to his surprise that he did not age. His metal parts did not rust nor decay. His skin did not wrinkle. His hair did not turn grey. His memory, though hazy when it came to his childhood and the time before the branding, now never faded in clarity. The only sign of his aging was when his brown eyes faded and shifted to become bright blue. He was as invulnerable to the ravages of time as he was to the weapons of man. Truly, his curse was no curse at all. Then the man followed Cain through the wilderness, sustaining himself with his priest's arts. But emotionally, he began to come undone. Oh, hang on a second. Just need to make a quick note there. They deserve to die, all of them, he said. Inanna was a whore. Aya was false. Belsh belshinu belshenu belshnu. Beat me with sticks when I was young, and all of them refused to let me choose my own path. Chains of words, but changed nonetheless. We need you, they said. They needed to use me. Let them rot in their graves. Cain never answered. Why do you remain silent? The man asked. His face was flushed with anger. I have said all there is to say, cain said. And you should not speak ill of the dead. Perhaps you were right, the man said. Perhaps they did not deserve to die. Perhaps you are not a God at all. Cain was silent, watching him clench and unclench his fists. The sun beat down overhead. If you are not a God, then you are a demon and you deserve to die. He hefted his stout metal walk inside. We will see if the stories are true. Or perhaps I will put an end to you now. Cain stood still as the man came at him. He took the blow from the stick and felt the pain, but was, as always, unmoved. His assailant toppled backwards and sat on the ground, stunned. Kain looked at the man as he sat on the ground, looking well up at him, gawking. Unfortunately, the blow had not been well struck. Fortunately. Pardon me? Fortunately, the blow had not been well struck. I suppose it is unfortunate for him, the wannabe priest, not Kane. The man would only suffer aches and bruises, no broken bones. I am not a God, cain said. Perhaps I am a demon, but nonetheless I cannot fall by your hand. He returned to walking. After some time, the man got up and followed him. In the beginning, in the land of Nod, the more Kain settled, the more the mark on his forehead stirred. The wandering urge grew stronger in his breast, but he ignored it. Instead, he erected more cities. The cities grew and prospered. His curse could not extend through the ways that filled Nod. Therefore he built his cities around Nexil Nexi of ways. Those who lived in his cities travelled through these ways to tend fields in summer proper and in other lands just as fertile still. The urge to wander increased and the nightmares came too. Sometimes, every night, he would wake up sobbing, incoherent, inconsolable. He remembered every variation of his sin that he had ever performed, past, present, and future. He remembered every possible color of his brother's blood. What have you done to me? The corpse of his brother would ask. What have you done? He would be like this forever, he realized. Forever living with this sorrow and regret, Kain became filled with a fury unquenchable. He raged against the heavens. This is your fault. Yours. Nod was filled with abandoned works from the dead ancient Ones, weapons with which Kain, friend of the ancient ones, was more than familiar. He built off these to create new weapons of war for humanity. He could not fully reanimate their dead works, but he created new ways of working metal to compensate with the treasures he received. In exchange for these weapons, he built more cities, larger cities. And once he had enough large cities, he began to raise armies. He led those armies in wars. He stood against monstrous enemies and laughed as their weapons destroyed their wielders as they battered his body. Whole civilizations fell before him after he used his curse to defile their lands. Seems me and Cain have A lot in common. Yet he was filled with misery. The more death he was responsible for, the more his misery grew, buttressed by the eternally perfect memory of everything he had done. Sorry. That hit harder than I thought it would. Then hang on. I hope this isn't recording too long. I know. We still have time. Then. Still, the man followed Cain. Both his worshipfulness and his rage were past. I admit, the man said. I loved them. I did weep for their passing. I only tried to hide it because I wished to please you. Cain was silent. You have powers beyond any. You have powers beyond those of any mortal, the man said. You can bring them back, all of them. It can return to the way it was. I cannot reverse death, Cain said. My curse does not grant me such a boon. With that, it did. Surely you can. Surely you are testing me. What must I do to earn this favor? I cannot bring them back, cain said. It must be a small thing for one such as you, the man said. Please, I cannot bring anyone back. I will travel to the lands and bring you riches. My healer's powers can bring me such much treasure in a great city. I can work and bring it all to you. I can be your manservant. No. Your willing slave to do with as you will. I can be your emissary, your emissary, your herald, your priest. I will do anything. There is nothing you and I can do. Please. Cain was silent. In the beginning, Cain resolved to cease the shedding of blood. He could not infuriate the heavens this way, only disappoint them. But perhaps he could please the heavens instead. Perhaps then his curse would become more bearable. He would become a patriarch, like his father. He would do his father better. He would become what able could have been. He would build cities which would last for all time. To be a true patriarch, he would need a family. Not a family of the children born of the blood he had spilt, nor the lost children who came after. No, he needed a family that would be acknowledged by those who hated him. Nor could he begin a family with the men he loved. No, they would not do. He considered briefly the men who could bear him children, the ones fought women by the traditional patriarchs like his father. No, they would not do either. His father would see them as women who thought themselves men and would pass judgment harshly. No, he would need an ordinary woman, one who was seen as a woman by all the people of the land, and a fertile woman who could bear children. And then likely other wives as well. Of the same fashion. Hey, Polyamory rep The ease of which this was accomplished was surprising. Within only a few years, Cain had a wife and a son. His son was named Enoch. He named a city after this son. His son had children. Their children had children. Kane's cities grew. The wandering urge grew stronger. He began to suffer from tremors, shaking upon the earth, sometimes for days at a time. He began to sleepwalk, wandering far outside of his cities before waking in the dawnlike light and returning. Then the man still followed Cain. They trudged through snow and sleet in the in between lands. Hang on a second. Just. Just hang on. Poppy. With. Pardon me one moment. Sorry for that brief absence. Sorry. Saw something moving. Something moving that definitely shouldn't be. It's not moving anymore. Don't you worry. Now, where was I? Let's see. Ah. Then the man still followed Kane. They trudged through snow and sleet in the in between lands. The man was silent now, breaking silence only with occasional choking sobs. He'd long ceased to eat and drink, using his healer's arts to mindlessly sustain himself. He hardly lifted his head, only putting one foot in front of the other. In Kane's footsteps, they reached the cold shores of the eternal sea. The sea called never. Kane began work on building a boat. The man could not help him in the boat building, but Kane did not want the help. The techniques to create and forge this sort of metal boat were totally alien to this man. Kane had long experience with them. He'd spent much time on the seas where his curse had little effect. Lucky for some, I hate water. For obvious reasons. When the boat was finished, the man boarded the boat with him. Cain did not object, only handed him an oar. They floated forth in the wintry sea. The man muttered words between frozen tears. I should have. I should have been a better son, a better husband, better healer, a better human being. Kane was silent. I did it. I killed them. By abandoning them, I killed them as surely as if I had done it with my own two hands. I was a healer. They relied on me. I could have saved them, or at least some of them. But I left. If only I had stayed. They were on the sea for a long time. In the beginning. Dear Lord, this is like a Christopher Nolan film with all these time jumps to stop his ins insensate. I apologize. I'm not nearly as well read as I think I am. To stop his insensate wanderings, Kane had himself chained up. Kane had himself chained up in Enoch's palace. The wandering urge lessened and slowed, but became ever present. A steady, horrible beat under his heart. His children and grandchildren tried to please him in his dungeon. Who were. It was that sort of book. But Kane found himself unable to feel almost anything. It's a pretty common problem for a lot of men his age. His days passed at an empty stupor, with neither pleasure nor pain. Beyond the ache on his forehead or in his chest. The land of Nod changed and shifted. First one of Khaine's cities was destroyed. And then another. Cain found himself feeling that this too was a punishment from the Elohim. The Elohim? But he could hardly feel enough to care. Then the end came for the city of Enoch, too. Cain was still in chains under the palace when it collapsed on his head. He felt the pain, but did not die. Instead, he lived trapped, immobile, deep in the rubble of the ancient city. Perhaps, he thought, he would be here forever. Perhaps this was his final punishment. Then, when they reached the terrestrial pains again. Terrestrial plains, pardon me. And the boat ran aground on a new shore. The man looked up for the first time in a long while. The sun was rising. They watched it together. There was a city on the horizon, suffused with golden light. This is where we part ways, Kane said. I will not go to the Sun City today. But you should. What will I do? The man asked. You've mourned your family, Cain said. Lay them to rest, built shrines in their honour, and find another people. Heal others as you did not heal your village. In this way, you can begin to atone. I will, the man said. The man walked towards the city. Cain watched him until his form dwindled away. In the beginning, Cain's children came to him under the earth. They whispered things to him. Secrets, prophecies. For a long time, he ignored them. Then he began to listen. After some time, his children came silently to unearth and free him. A great many of the lost children came, even the first, the High Golem. He picked his way through the rubble of his former life. He found that his human family were long dead. His cities are gone, only ruins left, swallowed by the lush and roiling wilderness of the wandering land of Nod. His lost children told Kain the paths he needed to follow. He listened. He would accept his curse. He would wander the worlds until he found all the possible ways to atone for his sins. If peace for him was still possible, then this is how he would find peace. Kane followed the paths, embracing the wanderlust, stepping into the wider world now. Blue Bird left the Shadow Market, zir eyes wide and head held high, the possible memory in glass tucked in Xir Long coat Z opened a way to another world and stepped through. And there are translations in French and Japanese, I think Chinese, as well as my native tongue of Russian and Korean as well. Quite a few different selections here. I do need to find other vocalists for this, but that's a issue for future art. Future arty can deal with that. I love a good wanderer. They're my favorite kind of hero. The wandering hero, roaming from place to place, no goal in sight, just them in the open road. When I was a kid, I heard about a wanderer. He used to drift past our home and then eventually into our home. Used to bring trouble wherever he went, but such joy as well. I love the character of Cain. A lot of people prefer the brother Abel, or even the father Adam. But Cain's a sinner, like I am. Cain carries his sins, his burdens, the blood on his hands with him wherever he goes. And his story is not about removing that sin from him. It's about carrying it with him, living with it, finding peace. He's cursed to wander, to never feel settled, to never find a true home. But that wanderlust becomes his greatest strength, his greatest passion. Eventually, he embraces the journey, the life of a traveler. They used to travel, used to roam across the galaxies, across the very fabric of universes, planets by stepping stones. Took a good number of lifetimes, a good number of eons before I found here. You. You were worth sticking around for. I hope I am too. I must be if you keep messaging me. What did you message me anyway? Let me have a cute little cartoon. Aw, you do love. You do love your cartoon men. I feel like I should be jealous, but. Yes. That's enough of me being a horrid little simp. Dear God, we're 29 minutes. It's quite a bit. You can cut out through here. Or maybe this will just be a slightly longer listen. Either way, that was a restless wanderer on the Earth. A nice bit of fiction based on the old Old Testament stories of Cain, Cain the Bloody Brother by the Deadly Moose, who I assume by that name is Canadian. So thank you for listening. You're welcome to upload this. My, my dear, obviously with all the little ramblings here and there edited out, but ladies and gentlemen and children, if you're all listening as well, especially you, Rob. I know your attention wanes, honestly, but I hope you do listen. Hope you all listen. To be honest, you don't often get to hear from your old par. But, but, but, but, but, but. Focus, focus. This has been a restless Wanderer on the Earth. This has been another rendition of into the Wanderer's Library with Professor Artyom Harkin. Next time, you can all look forward to listening about the 81st turn. 7th year, 20th cycle, Tres Day. Not going to give you any further. Contents. Contents, Context. Context. That's the word I'm looking for. God, I'm bloody tired. Right. Tres Day will be our next episode. Thank you for listening. Have a very great evening and take care. And once more for my beloved editor. No, hang on. I've got a quote. I've got a quote. Where is it? Where is it? Or is it? I noted it down somewhere. I put it on my bookmark. What was it? I. I've been reading up my Tolkien. This is for you. For your ears only. I would rather spend one lifetime with you, then face all the ages of this world alone. And considering how many lifetimes you and I have had, I'm sure you can infer the meaning. Thank you for listening and for waiting for me. I love you and I'll see you soon. Hopefully sooner than you think. Auf Wiedersehen.