There are those of us who must not feel...|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in
Peter Jurgen's LiveJournal:
|Monday, February 13th, 2006|
|The computer Room.
Cool and Dark and filled with the sound of whirling mechanics, The central Mainframe of the Palace of Justice, the Backbone of Father's perfect society, was empty safe for a lone computer technician typing slowly into the row, upon row of computer screens.
For it's advancement in years, the room looks nothing like what one might picture in a futuristic dystopian world. The computers resemble something akin to the Old Apple II E's, before even this particular plot author's time.
Standing, the Technician frowned at the three figures entering, "What are you doing here?"
|Monday, February 6th, 2006|
Gray sky darkened overhead, clouds hanging heavily with the promise of rain to come. Sweeper patrols passed in two and threes, their black coats blending with the mix of steel and concrete that made the city. In the center of a plaza, aptly dubbed the plaza of victory, It stands.
The Palace of Justice.
Machines for living in. Cold and beautiful. Functional. This is Libria at it’s finest. In other times, one might quip about “checking in and not checking out, but this is not the sort of place for jokes. This is a bad place, an old place. The Streets are Silent.
Surprisingly, out front, is a statue-perhaps the only statue in the city. It depects Justice, holding out her scales straight ahead. Inscribed on her base is the word LAW in big black letters.
This almost idylic scene passes until the darkness is complete and the sweepers continuing their rounds are black shadows. Preston, opening the door wider, smirks grimly, "Welcome to my Home."
|Friday, January 20th, 2006|
|Tuesday, January 10th, 2006|
He didn't see the punch.
That was what Jurgen reflected. After returning from that place Milliways, after feeling freedom
and obtaining closure, to come home to the black iron fist that was Cleric Brandt, in his home
Brandt lifted Jurgen off the floor, speaking into his ear, "You should be honored traitor. Father's requested to speak with you personally
He'd broken something in Jurgen's collarbone, so the movement made the man scream.
"You turned against your people for what? a few paltry lines of scribbling?"
Brandt dropped Jurgen like a sack of bricks, "This is power pal. Not your "pen." your pen is nothing. Insignifigant."
Jurgen tried to stand but all he got was a kick to the ribs.
"Father has power." Brandt said. And so do I
Jurgen could do nothing, say nothing, as he was dragged bruised and bloodied across the floor and into Father's inner domain, Daniel entering into the den of the lions.
|Sunday, January 8th, 2006|
"Here are today's most recent materials to be archived sir."
"Thank you." Jurgen accepted the stack of books a little sadly, "From a nether-retrieval team?"
"No sir, Cleric Brandt had these delivered."
Jurgen frowned, Brandt...Brandt...
Without thinking he dropped a second stack of books atop the first, making a large pile.
"Sir?" His assistant stared after him, her sheep-eyes dull with what passed in libria for confusion.
"Is everything all right? I am more then willing to assist you."
"That won't be needed." Jurgen said calmly, "I can manage this."
And so saying, he pushed through the door.
|Wednesday, December 14th, 2005|
|A beginning of Sorts.
"The road is cleared." said galt, "We are going back to the world." and he raised his hand and drew the sign of a dollar in the air-
Jurgen dropped his copy of The Fountainhead
and picked up the stack of paperwork he'd brought with him so to get something done while being here-as much as being here calmed him-Preston
He wondered if John Preston could ever stand normally, or if he ever had. The man was straight and narrow, looking at him like he was an Arch-Cleric about to report to Father...
"Preston." Jurgen leaned down from his chair to pick up the book, "I was trying to get this archival data done but..."
Preston had alot on his mind, Jurgen could tell. Mary's combustion had been a few days ago...and Preston had gone. jurgen didn't have any more details on what transpired but-
Rather then melancholy or sad, Preston seemed pleased
Jurgen frowned. Preston wasn't one to mince words or to...be hesitant about something. If he didn't like an idea or a plan he'd tell you and damn the consequences or the feelings that he'd hurt. He had a soldier's bluntness but now...
Now it appeared as if the man had a great and terrible secret he wanted to get off his chest. Current Mood: curious