The Pole Shift

Sean

Sean tried to remember the point to his existence as he flicked bits of rock around with mental vibrations. He was leading a very lonely life. Was it lonelier than hiding away on his hilltop property, stashing cans like a greedy fat dragon? It was. The people he had hidden away from in a pre-Pole Shift world were gone, and what remained were terrified of him. The old man said he was a God, A Giant that would live forever! The old man, Perry Perrz or whatever his name was, said he needed to play that role, be a Giant, construct something that people would come to. Sean had sniffed and said sarcastically:

"Built it and they will come, sorta thing?" Perry Perrz had flashed anger, seeing the petulance. He had replied:

"Ebba was right, you were a bad choice for the rod. You are pleasure-seeking. I should have given you the cup but your party would consist only of yourself, you like it that way. " Perry Perrz had smiled sadly, whilst the word 'cup' triggered prompts in Sean. He wanted a drink more than anything.

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Perez noticed the process of mind, the age old frailty in humans - the 'one thing leads to another' habit that was only necessary for survival in animals. He sneered at that trait not caring that Sean couldn't even get his name right. Perez knew it was intentional, a mock.  Sean obviously spent his time drinking. With all the immense resource he had been gifted, he searched for alcohol as if it was the future.

"There is something in you, but it is very deep. Sean. Mystically deep." Perez saw a dozen sarcastic answers rise to Sean's lips but The Giant Sean wisely pursed them and remained silent.

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Sean was thousand mile starring, thinking of that moment. Was that the last time Sean had spoken to the old man, had it been a month, a year, longer? Who cared! Sean Snapped out of the memory and returned to his second chief quest, vodka. He had perfected the power of the gold rod. A rod now much larger than a match stick, a rod that had the girth of a thumb and a length three times that. The solid gold rod was a conduit to thought, it instructed the elements down to the molecule.

Sean could encase himself in silica so he seemed made of sand. That was fine when air was the element, but when water surrounded him he needed to compress air in chambers of rock. Sea born Sean was much bigger than land striding Sean and it was the seas he had to travel to find vodka. Down into the depths of Melbourne, into the streets of Ballarat and Geelong. Sean strode the old highways of men now a thousand meters under new oceans. He found his second grail often enough, and set himself on land rapidly to enjoy his find, not trusting being under water and being drunk.

It wasn't that Sean ignored his chief quest, he thought about Mnem all the time, was that her name? Mnem, Mnemosyne, wasn't it Emma? Emma was a proper name. It wasn't that Sean didn't think about Emma, it was that he couldn't find her. There had only been two occasions when he had got close, and she fled like a startled deer. He had ruined it, come on too strong, but, only if she could spend some time and get to know him? The loop of thought was never interrupted and Sean, a case of vodka encased in a stone compartment maintained by his thought, followed the underwater contours that led up. Eventually he would find an island to get wasted on.