From: Brandon Ray Date: Tue, 18 May 1999 01:03:58 -0600 Subject: The Heart of the Mystery (1/1) TITLE: The Heart of the Mystery AUTHOR: Brandon D. Ray EMAIL ADDRESS: publius@avalon.net DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name stays on it and no money changes hands. FEEDBACK: Go ahead; knock yourself out. Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net SPOILER STATEMENT: The Unnatural; FTF; How the Ghosts Stole Christmas; Tithonus; Milagro RATING: PG CONTENT STATEMENT: Nothing I can think of. Not even a single bad word. CLASSIFICATION: VA SUMMARY: What was Arthur Dales thinking during "The Unnatural"? THANKS: To Lena and Robbie for yet another midnight beta session. DISCLAIMER: In my dreams... The Heart of the Mystery by Brandon D. Ray It was on a Saturday afternoon in April that he finally came to me. Just as we'd anticipated. I'd been in place for several months by that point, waiting for the time to be right. Waiting for him to be "ripe", as I so colorfully put it to him a few minutes after his arrival. Waiting. I'd begun my assignment right after Christmas. We'd been unable to find out what went on inside that abandoned house on Christmas Eve, but within days it had become clear that something had changed between Fox Mulder and his partner. The changes became more evident with the passage of time; after she was shot, a little over a week later, they became virtually inseparable. We knew then that the plan to break this man's spirit had failed. After the incident involving his next door neighbor, in which his partner once again very nearly lost her life, we knew that the moment was here. Our psychometricians updated both personality profiles and ran a number of simulations, and they were all in agreement: Agents Mulder and Scully were ready. Ready for that final push. And finally the moment had arrived. Of course I made him work a little before I let him into "my" apartment. These humans seldom value something they have not expended effort to obtain. This is a trait we have used to our advantage many times, and in this, at least, Agent Mulder was no different from the rest of his species. And so I challenged him and impeded him and finally, with grudging affect, I allowed him to come inside. He was barely in the door before I began my assault. "Agent Mulder, do you believe that love can make a man shapeshift?" I asked. I could see that he was surprised by the question, but when the answer came it was exactly what I'd expected: "I guess ... women change men all the time." "I'm not talking about women," I insisted, all the while using body language that said the exact opposite. "I'm talking about love. Passion. Like the passion you have for proving extra-terrestrial life. Do you believe that that passion can change your very nature? Can make you shape-shift from a man into something other than a man?" And a moment later, after a little more verbal sparring, I added, "Maybe you had better start paying a little less attention to the heart of the mystery, and a little more attention to the mystery of the heart." I'd expected that line to grab his attention, and I was right. Even more than most humans this man is a romantic, and therefore a fool. Also like most humans he believes in symmetry and order, and I knew the concise sentence structure would appeal to him, almost regardless of its content. And so I settled down to tell him a story, and he settled down to listen -- and was lost. It was a simple story, really -- a story rooted in the cultural myths these creatures hold so dear. As my carefully selected words rolled over him I could see that Agent Mulder was falling under my spell -- falling so thoroughly under it that it never occurred to him to question the inconsistencies and leaps of logic made necessary by my practice of the storyteller's art. His partner, I knew, would have been a tougher nut to crack. But our simulations had shown that the probability that she would accompany him on this visit were very small, and so I'd prepared the story for his ears alone. A risk, but a calculated one. Had she been present, she would have challenged my story on a number of points. She would have asked, for example, why Josh Exley's face appeared to be that of an alien when it was reflected in window glass. She would have asked why Arthur Dales' exposure to alien body fluid -- a substance she and her partner both know is toxic to humans -- didn't kill him. She might even have questioned how a small-time cop like Arthur Dales could possibly know that so many of the greatest baseball players were actually aliens. But Agent Mulder asked none of these questions. It simply isn't in his nature to challenge and inquire, just as it isn't in her nature to have leaps of faith or intuition. This dichotomy is the prime reason the two of them together are so dangerous to us. And it is why our plan for diverting them can not be allowed to fail. Eventually I reached the end of the story -- and still Mulder did not challenge me, even as my tale made its two greatest leaps of logic: First, how could Arthur Dales possibly have known what transpired between Exley and his executioner in the moments before Exley's death; and second, how could creatures of such completely alien background and psychology ever have developed any understanding -- let alone concern -- for such thoroughly human concepts such as honor and loyalty. And it certainly never seemed to cross his mind that the only one who could know all of these things is Exley's executioner. As I said, it never occurred to Mulder to question any of this. I had planted the seeds of his acceptance when I told him to "trust the tale, not the teller", but I really needn't have bothered. Agent Mulder arrived at my apartment ready to trust, ready to believe. I did not have to sell him my story because he had already sold himself, before he ever walked in my door. He left here just a few moments ago, his spirits buoyed by my tale of warmth and humanity, and my lesson -- that he should go out and try to find a little joy in his life -- clearly taken to heart. I don't know exactly how Agent Mulder and his partner will spend the rest of this evening, or the days that are to follow. Surveillance is not part of my assignment; my only task was to divert their attention for a short time. But I imagine that they'll have fun, whatever they're doing. At least for a little while. Fini -- You may be a loser if .... you've ever had to fake an orgasm while masturbating. :p ========================== You don't have to fake it to visit my fanfic: http://www.avalon.net/~publius/MyStories.html