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Age, Aging, and Time (Story in Desc)
“You've always avoided the question, but what about your age?” Nigel had managed to figure out the electric kettle in Clarion's room and now had a cup of tea in his hands. The warmth brought some life to his fingertips.
Clarion seemed to wither. “Age doesn't matter. People who brag about their age usually do it because they can't rely on their wits, so they slap numbers down like a trump card.”
The priest eyed her. “Clarion....”
Her ears flattened. “I'm older than you, and younger than your civilization. Is that good enough?”
“Human civilization is over two million years old, some say.”
Clarion seemed determined to hold her peace, but the priest's gaze wore her down. “I'm not two million years old.” She finally relented. “I honestly don't remember the exact number, but my closest guess would be somewhere between thirty and fifty thousand.”
Much to Nigel's credit, he managed not to drop his teacup.
“And I know what's on your mind right now. You're thinking it's a big number, and yet you're surprised that it isn't bigger, right?” Her ears slowly unpinned. “People have trouble visualizing numbers, particularly big ones. It's a lot harder to keep track when every place you go uses a different date system. Many places have longer or shorter years as well.”
The priest considered. “How are you able to keep track at all, in that case?”
Clarion grinned faintly. “Eventually you measure it by great events. Like, 'I was about five thousand when the Ozram Nebula vanished and that was eight hundred years ago'.”
Nigel shook his head. “I can't even begin to imagine.”
Her eyes closed wearily. “Most of it is a blur, time moves too quickly. I have memories but I've forgotten more than I remember. I live day by day.”
“One would think immortality would bring some measure of comfort.”
Clarion's laugh was bitter, a noise bordering on anguish. “I'm not immortal. I can and will die some day. The difference is that you will probably die old and weary and gently. All I have to look forward to is something violent and painful. Maybe one day I'll fall in a ravine and Timothy won't be there to fish me out. Maybe I'll take a bullet to the head, or get ripped to shreds by some monster. Maybe one of these days a teleport will end me up a mile underground or in the vacuum of space. All I know my death won't come easy or gently.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean....”
She held up a hand. “It's all right. Like I said, I live day to day, though that doesn't mean I don't look into tomorrow from time to time. But contemplating my death is about as pleasant as anybody contemplating their own. I accept it's inevitability, but I can't claim I'm looking forward to it.”
A continuing short story about Three being inquired by her priest about some secrets she keeps close. That's why I stuck the calendar in the background.
Thwaitsey had lost a pet bird and asked if I could put it in the image, so he's fluttering past her window. It fit the mood and theme of the picture perfectly.
Copic marker and gelpen on 4x6 canvasboard. There will be a few more of these.
Clarion seemed to wither. “Age doesn't matter. People who brag about their age usually do it because they can't rely on their wits, so they slap numbers down like a trump card.”
The priest eyed her. “Clarion....”
Her ears flattened. “I'm older than you, and younger than your civilization. Is that good enough?”
“Human civilization is over two million years old, some say.”
Clarion seemed determined to hold her peace, but the priest's gaze wore her down. “I'm not two million years old.” She finally relented. “I honestly don't remember the exact number, but my closest guess would be somewhere between thirty and fifty thousand.”
Much to Nigel's credit, he managed not to drop his teacup.
“And I know what's on your mind right now. You're thinking it's a big number, and yet you're surprised that it isn't bigger, right?” Her ears slowly unpinned. “People have trouble visualizing numbers, particularly big ones. It's a lot harder to keep track when every place you go uses a different date system. Many places have longer or shorter years as well.”
The priest considered. “How are you able to keep track at all, in that case?”
Clarion grinned faintly. “Eventually you measure it by great events. Like, 'I was about five thousand when the Ozram Nebula vanished and that was eight hundred years ago'.”
Nigel shook his head. “I can't even begin to imagine.”
Her eyes closed wearily. “Most of it is a blur, time moves too quickly. I have memories but I've forgotten more than I remember. I live day by day.”
“One would think immortality would bring some measure of comfort.”
Clarion's laugh was bitter, a noise bordering on anguish. “I'm not immortal. I can and will die some day. The difference is that you will probably die old and weary and gently. All I have to look forward to is something violent and painful. Maybe one day I'll fall in a ravine and Timothy won't be there to fish me out. Maybe I'll take a bullet to the head, or get ripped to shreds by some monster. Maybe one of these days a teleport will end me up a mile underground or in the vacuum of space. All I know my death won't come easy or gently.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean....”
She held up a hand. “It's all right. Like I said, I live day to day, though that doesn't mean I don't look into tomorrow from time to time. But contemplating my death is about as pleasant as anybody contemplating their own. I accept it's inevitability, but I can't claim I'm looking forward to it.”
A continuing short story about Three being inquired by her priest about some secrets she keeps close. That's why I stuck the calendar in the background.
Thwaitsey had lost a pet bird and asked if I could put it in the image, so he's fluttering past her window. It fit the mood and theme of the picture perfectly.
Copic marker and gelpen on 4x6 canvasboard. There will be a few more of these.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / General Furry Art
Species Housecat
Size 895 x 600px
File Size 602.7 kB
That is a good point. A brain can only remember so much, after all... eventually you forget stuff. Or, as I would suspect, eventually you learn to see what's important and just don't even bother remembering the rest.
Still... that's much older than I had expected. My guess was between 300 and 500. But hey, means i was only two orders of magnitude off ;)
Still... that's much older than I had expected. My guess was between 300 and 500. But hey, means i was only two orders of magnitude off ;)
In Epic Illustrated, they show Galactus and his herald coming to Earth 100million years in the future. There they find a robot, who has been witness to ALL of human history and evolution, wars and inventions, everything.
But because the robot's memory is finite, and it's primary duty is to protect and hold all of the works of one William Shakespere, he's had to delete all of it in order to keep to his primary purpose -- keeping the bard's words safe for eternity. It was an interesting story in a very interesting magazine, which folded much too early imho.
But because the robot's memory is finite, and it's primary duty is to protect and hold all of the works of one William Shakespere, he's had to delete all of it in order to keep to his primary purpose -- keeping the bard's words safe for eternity. It was an interesting story in a very interesting magazine, which folded much too early imho.
Since her immortality is the product of hundreds of years of focused genetic study and engineering I've had to put a lot of thought into how one would engineer such a thing. For example we naturally perceive time by our experience in it, which is why the older we get the faster it seems to pass. Well, she has a sort of built in mental perception limit that puts her at the mental time measure of someone in their fifties or sixties. Otherwise she'd go crazy before she hit a few hundred years.
Her brain also judges which memories are important and which are not by the frequency with which she revisits them. Some come up in day to day activities, some she deliberately goes over in her head as a daily ritual, and some slowly fade and are replaced. Really vital survival skills like fighting or major traumas end up in instinct, so she might develop phobias for reasons she can't even remember, and she has a natural skill with any blade she picks up and an innate sense of understanding herbs by smell and taste.
The rest is just experience, she's learned how to quickly grasp a new language by observation, and has always had a natural patience.
Her brain also judges which memories are important and which are not by the frequency with which she revisits them. Some come up in day to day activities, some she deliberately goes over in her head as a daily ritual, and some slowly fade and are replaced. Really vital survival skills like fighting or major traumas end up in instinct, so she might develop phobias for reasons she can't even remember, and she has a natural skill with any blade she picks up and an innate sense of understanding herbs by smell and taste.
The rest is just experience, she's learned how to quickly grasp a new language by observation, and has always had a natural patience.
Very interesting. Makes sense too.
In fact, some may be a bit creepy. Like having phobias without knowing why. Especially with the different worlds she "visits". She might come across something very common-place and completely harmless in one world and be totally freaked out because it is something that was incredibly dangerous in another she visited centuries ago. That would make for us nice stories/pictures :)
In fact, some may be a bit creepy. Like having phobias without knowing why. Especially with the different worlds she "visits". She might come across something very common-place and completely harmless in one world and be totally freaked out because it is something that was incredibly dangerous in another she visited centuries ago. That would make for us nice stories/pictures :)
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