Interview with Anarchy

[Telarus]

I posted one of the classic Discordian Haikus to my facebook recently ("A morning math class / Quick drop out of school before your mind rots from exposure to the educational system / Carry the seven"), and my cousin, an author, took it and ran with it:

Interview with Anarchy

Anarchy wore red shoes.  It wasn't what Milt was expecting, but then he had been carefully avoiding forming any expectations at all.  It wasn't often that one got to interview something as big and imprecise as Anarchy, and he wanted to be at the top of his game.

Her hair was relatively neat, but her clothes were a mess of different styles and colours, stitched together or thrown together or sometimes just tied.  One hand had a glove with three fingers, the other had a tattoo made with marker, fine lines bleeding into the skin, smudged in spots.

"When did you know you had tapped into the power of the Commons?" he asked, pen poised over his notepad.

For a moment, she didn't move, and he wondered if she'd heard him.  She had her iPod earbuds in, but he'd been told she almost never used them.  It was a comfort thing.

Almost without warning, she became animated, her mis-matched eyes locked on his as she began speaking at a breakneck clip.

"A morning math class," she said. "A Tuesday afternoon in August. In October. Five. Two. Six years ago.  On the night of the solar eclipse, when I had my first kiss.  Four times five."

He didn't write, but didn't put away his pen, either.

"And, just for background, how did you tap into the Commons at all?  Was it an accident or—"

"The best-kept secrets are the juiciest and — transparency is the king of — it was God speaking to —" she took a deep breath, smiled sweetly, and it was like she was any ordinary sixteen-year-old girl.  "I really don't know."

"You don't, or they don't?" he asked, cautiously.

"I don't know what I know," she said. "We're not big on honesty sometimes."

That, he wrote down.  He noticed her left eye was following his notepad closely, while the right was looking around the room like she was bored.  It was jarring, but he knew if he reacted, the interview would be over.

"Before your... your epiphany—"

"What's that?" she snapped. "Oh, I know. Smartass.  Shh! Sorry, continue."

He glanced at her handlers, but they didn't seem concerned.  "Before your transformation, you were on track to attend a top flight university on a full scholarship.  Is that still part of the plan, or—"

"I hope so," she said, both eyes looking straight at him.  "It's hard to — quick! — focus, but I think — drop out of school before your mind rots from — I can still attend if I really focus on — exposure to the edu — seven plus seven is fourteen and — will you shut up?"

She put a hand to her head, closed her eyes and counted back from ten.  Then she made a fist and slouched back in her seat, legs spread wide like she was a totally different person.  She regarded him, up and down.

"You know what nirvana is?" she asked.

"Um... I..."

"It's me.  I'm nirvana.  Right here, in this, up here, this is nirvana.  I know the thoughts and dreams of thousands upon thousands of people around the world.  More every day.  Zeitgeist? Fuck zeitgeist.  I am the spirit of the times, and you, you disconnected sack of bile, aren't worth my time."

He smiled politely, laid his pen on the pad and folded his arms.  She scratched her armpit, watched him carefully.

"You know what I think?" he asked.  "I think this anarchy thing is bullshit.  I think you're a regular teenaged girl with regular problems and a really great gift for the dramatic."

Anarchy sat forward, grinned at him.

"Oh, do I?" she purred.

"The only thing you know is how to act crazy," he said.  Her handlers were watching now, ready to move, hands on tasers.  He wasn't sure if they'd be used on him or her.

"I'll tell you what we — no don't — what we — please, leave him alone, he's — gomenasai — enough!" she snapped and stood up, knocking her chair over.  He got up, too, refusing to give her the upper hand.  "You want to know what we know?  We know your wife is screwing your best friend.  Right now.  And he's — please — he's hitting a spot you never c—"

He slapped her across the face, and she fell to the ground.  In a second, the handlers were all over him, and he jerked rigid as the taser hit his side.

Anarchy held her cheek, looking at him with a mixture of shock and fear.  She watched as he was dragged away, his pen rattling on the floor nearby.

"Nice try," she muttered to herself. "He could have done it.  He wouldn't, though. What, with the pen? You're insane.  No you're insane.  I just want out of this hell! Too bad, so sad!"

She looked for her handlers, busy in the hall, and then down at the pen on the floor.  She reached out a trembling hand, picked it up, and clicked it open.

"Don't you dare," she said, and then, after some contemplation.  "Carry the seven."

-MCM

http://1889.ca/2010/05/interview-with-anarchy.html

[P3nT4gR4m]

SWEET!

[Kai]

I don't get it.

[P3nT4gR4m]

"You know what I think?" he asked.  "I think this anarchy thing is bullshit.  I think you're a regular teenaged girl with regular problems and a really great gift for the dramatic."

Anarchy sat forward, grinned at him.

"Oh, do I?" she purred.

"The only thing you know is how to act crazy," he said.

Anarchy - pretty much sums it up.

They all end up carrying the seven. Or at least that was the way I read it 

[BadBeast]

It's carry the ONE! Always carry the one. (The other six know this too, they're just after a free ride)