The Garrison

Kinesis

I want you to take a second to think about motion.

To a physicist, the concept of motion immediately conjures Newton's laws. Bodies resisting motion until they have no choice but to give in. Once swept up they cannot stop, only slowed down by the barriers our world creates. A constant cycle of defiance and submission.

To an artist, the presence of motion is an illusion. Tricks of the eye create motion, as they do depth, size, and form. Our world exists across three distinct dimensions and yet the artist is limited to the cartesian plane. A delicate balancing act with the limits of reality.

To a psychologist, motion is an attention whore. Nothing in our realm of perception distracts us more than a moving object, especially one that is alive, a constraint of our evolution that has guided us through the eons. A living link between the external world and our cognition.

To Ariel Nguyen, the whole world is in motion. At least her world has always been. For as long as she can remember life has been a bullet racing past her, a rapidly descending plane, a freefall into nothingness.

And none of it shows any sign of stopping.

♣♣♣

September XX63

"Ariel are you listening?"

One minute ago, Ariel's hands were buried in her desk, rotating trios of colorful squares until they met their proper alignment.

"Miss Nguyen, I repeat, do you care to inform the class what you're staring at?" A professor stands at a podium in the front of the room. His words are brisk, his tone toxic; the auditory equivalent of quicksilver.

Thirty seconds ago, Ariel's eyes were transfixed on the coming tide, the edge of the cape just barely visible from the classroom window.

"Sorry Dr. Talbot, it's just...I could've sworn I saw some..."

Less than a moment ago, Ariel thought she saw a blur of motion, something rising from the water's surface, but with her eyes now focused forward she can no longer make it out in her peripherals.

"And you think whatever is out there is more important than my class?" The interruption is stern and severe. The impatient tapping of a ruler against a desk follows suit.

In this moment Ariel must decide on a response. It can be angry, it can be fearful, but it has to be an answer, and it has to be fast.

"Well Miss Nguyen, I'm waiting."

Anger, not fear courses through her. She stares down the man, the midday glare hitting her glasses, obscuring the pointed glare beneath. Bubbles start trickling up her peripherals, the rims of her eye wear begin to melt. The gravity of this hits her, she remembers where she is and what comes next.

She chooses fear.

"No sir. I'll pay attention."

Mr. Talbot nods, smug satisfaction pulling at the corner of his lips before resuming the lecture. "Thank you, now let's move on. Can anyone tell me the name of the nerve that receives and sends information from the eyes?"

A familiar face raises her hand.

"Cranial Nerve II, or the optic nerve." You can practically hear the roman numerals in the way she says it. Know-it-all.

"That's correct, thank you Lailah." His eyes wander a little too low as he says it, lechery clear in his stare, freaking pervert. The girl, either oblivious or ignoring it, nods in gratitude as Dr. Talbot shifts his attention back to scolding. "Ariel, I suggest you pay good attention to Lailah. If you worked half as hard as she did you might actually go somewhere in life." Ariel pinches her fingers together, singeing her skin slightly as she tries to keep it together. "Actually, that's a brilliant idea. Since you clearly need more structure I'm assigning you extra work to fill your time. Complete chapter seven in the workbook before tomorrow."