Path: madeline.INS.CWRU.Edu!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!b62535.STUDENT.CWRU.Edu!adm4 From: adm4@po.cwru.edu (Teral Acorn) Newsgroups: alt.devilbunnies Subject: No one understands... Date: Thu, 2 Nov 1995 06:04:13 GMT Organization: CWRU Lines: 80 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: b62535.student.cwru.edu //In my prison cell I think these words, I was careless I can see it now, I must be silent, must contain my secret smile, I want to tell you, you, my mirror, you my iron bars...// Teral grinned as he ran down the corridors, a long string of paper trailing out after him. The squirrels he passed look at him askance as he dashed towards the lower levels... then shrugged and went on their way. It *was* Teral, after all... //When I made a shadow on my window shade...// Teral had to slow down on level 3. The corridor was still blocked with rubble, months after the rebellion. It would probably never be completely fixed -- and anyway, clambering over shifting piles of broken cement helped break up the monotony of the tunnels. //They called the police and testified.// A huddle of science squirrels pointed their lasers at him as they passed. He was used to it by now, although the first few weeks he'd been sure they were going to kill him. He still felt a little shiver of fear -- it he knew *why* they didn't he might feel a little better about it... but that didn't matter, really. Not anymore. //But they're like the people chained up in the cage, In the allegory of the people in the cage, by the Greek guy.// First stop, level 15, bunnymover tunnels and transport staging. A flurry of paper as he ran a claw down the list, checking a few things off. "Hi Teral! What's up!" "Wha --" he chittered, losing his train of thought, "Oh, hi. Hey, you signed the list, didn't you?" "Yeah.... [flick] what's it about, anyway?" Teral scrabbled through the pockets on his body harness and produced a card. The squirrel glanced at it and nodded. "Great!" "Shh... don't tell the mentats." The tech snickered. As if. //No one understands.... No one knows my plans...// Oh, thought Teral, as the chorus ran through his head, they will... they will... [bounceflick!] //Why the dancing, shouting why the shrieks of pain, the lovely music, why the smell of burning autumn leaves.// Level 10, weapons stockpiles. More items checked off... so far, so good. //In my prison cell I bide my time, Always thinking, always busy cooking up the angles, Working on the tiny blueprint of the angles, Sketching out the burning autumn leaves...// Level 8, spare parts and digging machinery, mostly. But if he remembered right, in the back of storage room 8J... yep, they were there. [bounce] It would work! //No one understands... No one knows my plans... I must be silent, must contain my secret smile, I want to tell you, you my mirror, you my iron bars.// Back in his room, he scrabbled over the maps, notes, and printouts, rechecking the details one last time... then, flexing his paws, he turned to the computer to send out the first dispatches. //No one understands... No one knows my plan!// =---------- Teral Acorn