A Message for Peterman

by: Akino T
Copyright FASPIII 2004

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As with all messages, they originate from somewhere. Over Mountain, over streams, through grass fields, and even from dreams. Every message is different, yet all the same. But why would Peterman be the recipient of one of these important messages we have grown accustomed too even in this day? Why did people risk lives to determine the quickest and shortest route for this package? The answer is simple enough. In fact, the answer is all in the message. What haste one would put forth when reading the message. What scrutiny one would imply when observing others after reading the message? In all people it has been said that the glass is either half empty, or half full, depending on how one looks at it. For Peterman, the glass was shattered. Every time he looked at either side, he had nothing to compare it to. He needed this message. He waited for this message without knowing its arrival. When asked what he was waiting for, he would probably have stated that he was not waiting, rather the waiter, and that everyone else waited for him. The neighbors thought him strange and his addiction or rather preferences of animals of the furry type around him, as company seemed to keep as few neighbors at his fence, which was exactly the way Peterman liked it. The message is now within 75 days of arriving in his hands. Yet the message is only physically 1 mile away.

An explosion in the distance shook Peterman. As he leapt up off of his porch, he could see over his fence-line a plume of smoke about a mile out in the distance. It seemed some fool had been messing with the power again, which is quite simply the exact reason Mr. Peterman has no glass! He too was once young. Very feeble minded. Knew of nothing but his mission. To become everything infinite. To reach beyond goals and limitations. To grow up to be whatever, and everything. To determine what has boundaries, and to get there and knock them over. Ah, what a fine childhood was within Peterman. Even though he can remember a father, his mother insisted he had none. Even though he could remember spring and summer, he was reminded constantly by mother that he also had none of those things. Only the purest of winters, which was the source of his discontent. Ah, blue blue skies. "Where is my sun? Where is my light I see by day? Where am I now, and why mother?" he always found himself asking while enjoying his selected company of whatever furry along the way.

But the message was going to be delayed. Soul and Messenger terminated prematurely. Was this the plan? No. Were the events in the message still going to be played out? Yes. On time? Yes again. What did the message contain? Why were people always in the line of fire?

" I am so ordinary, the animator, consistent suicide. Like a dove, surrounded by trees, I’ll be a stinking tree make. Fire. Everybody is someone else’s weaker, as am I."