Dreaming of Incentives Pt 1

Lashing downwards, its descent diagonally skewed, the wind-steered, hungry and intermittently electrical epilogue of the Tempest fell. Even in these, its final moments, there was energy enough within the Tempest’s rage to batter and bend buildings and to permanently penetrate the few pores of safety left standing: the shelters erected hurriedly, but expertly, by Humanity.

Such breaches did not matter. Shelters could be rebuilt, as could the lives which so frequently occupied them. What mattered – to those who dared give it thought – was the peculiarity of the attack, the uncharacteristic manner in which it was carried out. There was something disquieting about its accuracy. Never had the Tempest struck out at one place and one place only. It was almost as though it was augmenting its sadism with what could best be described as method.

This was strange enough, but what was stranger was the intensity of the attack, which seemed manufactured (to those who cared to document the details of previous strikes) by what seemed to be the dying gasps of the behemoth. It seemed divest of much of its chill. Such seeming weakness was unheard of, and was therefore terrifying beyond reasonable comprehension.

The hope this represented, at least for those who still recalled the word, and its inebriating effects, was articulated only among the mad.

You can find the complete version of Dreaming of Incentives Pt 1 in issue 64 of TBD.

Andrew 'Doc' Docherty