Armund

The Atavistics – ARM – 20140606

It was an anxious time for James Acomb. He wasn’t ‘in charge’ and he wasn’t confident about what he was being asked to do.
The Atavistics had instructed him that ‘She’ would sense a bond with him and would respond well to a smile. How he himself would know who ‘She’ was, was explained as simply, “You won’t be attracted to her but she will be friendly towards you and a slightly lingering look from her will confirm her as the Quint”. Glancing lazily around the crowd now building for the end of the school day he could not see anyone jump into his psyche, a few he noted were yummy-mummies and so he assumed that they were out of the picture as he wasn’t supposed to be attracted to them. Most of the others were so engrossed in their group conversations and occasional glances at the classroom doors that they presented no opportunity for eye contact. He concluded that the Quint must still be on her way.

This era in James’ life had started a month ago as a kind of vision although there were no visual sights and no audible sounds; a mind’s eye cognition. It came to him one warm sunny afternoon in May while relaxing under a parasol and listening to barrel chested men singing emotional arias in a language he didn’t understand. He sometimes thought of her at these times and sometimes cried a little. Although alone he had indulged himself with a glass of Australian red. Corrina would not have objected to embracing hedonism on a summer’s day had she been alive.
As he relaxed in the sun lounger his mind cleared and was open to the sound of birds and opera and the distant hum of traffic and children playing. It was one of those perfect moments that we all feel cosseted in sometimes. Slowly as the shadows lengthened to the East the sunshine cleared the frill of the parasol and bathed his face creating the most vivid colours behind his restful eyes; Purples, Pinks, Greens, iridescent blues and Poppy Reds all shimmering and slowly merging to form strange alluring patterns. This wonderful relaxing kaleidoscopic feeling was not something new. What was new was the voiceless communication in his head. There were no words, only thoughts. Strong thoughts, thoughts that he later realised worked without language as must happen in an animal brain and which was now almost arcane to humans. All of this information came to James in repeated, out of sequence, conceptual waves of knowledge. As soon as it had all washed into his mind it receded back to nothingness.

James snapped open his eyes and then immediately swing his head down to avoid the glaring sun. Standing up, he moved the lounger chair across into the parasol shade once more, sat down again and noting a flush of excited emotion in himself tried to rationalise what had just happened. The Atavistics wanted to speak to him in slumber. The Atavistics; that was cave men he thought. A self preservation gut feeling more often. A gut feeling can communicate emotion to you he reasoned, perhaps I’m ill. Who was Quint? He knew he wasn’t mad but what was it that just happened. They insist that I have to let them in to speak to me but it can only happen in light sleep.
James resolved to ignore that request for now but he he found a pad and a Bic and wrote down all he could remember.

We need your help James.
You have been selected.
The things we need you to do are small but vital to our Quint.
You must resolve to open your mind to us in future when in light sleep and let us communicate with you through dreams.
We are your Atavistics.
This form of forced communication is only allowed once without your cooperation.
Unless you open your mind in dream we cannot communicate with you again.
Open your mind to us in light sleep James; invite us in.

He sat with his glass of red wine reading his notes then standing and walking about the garden and returning once more to sit under the parasol and read his notes once more.

He wasn’t a religious man, he didn’t believe in devils or gods. He did believe that some people were evil bastards, some were deranged and some were so good that they were sometimes described as ‘too nice’. The link between them was that all of their actions came from within their own minds; no one made them do it. Now this day he had experienced some phenomenon that defied everything that he believed in, everything solid in his life.
Perhaps these things happen when you get older, they may be common and laughed off by most sane people. He recalled that in the papers recently there was a man who confessed to his wife that he was having an affair with an alien from outer space and that they had a child. James didn’t know the outcome of the fantastical story but the guy certainly got his fifteen minutes of fame.

Topping up his glass of red he again decided to let things sort themselves out; let them stew for a couple of days and then re-assess the situation. What he also decided was to keep it all to himself as the danger of appearing soft in the head was very real indeed.
Within the hour a quick query on the web about Clint told him only what he already know about Mr Eastwood. With a ‘K’ it was a Scandinavian furniture designer and Klimt was an Austrian painter whose best know work was ‘The Kiss’ that looked like an owl in mosaic to him. Quint however was a little more promising. It was from an archaic French card game that meant five in a row of the same suit. That could be something he supposed, It was a plausible root. Unhelpfully he noted that it was also Jamaican argot for a woman who enjoyed sex; or to be more precise, a woman with a strong pelvic base contraction and who used it during intercourse. Not at all useful except to Jamaican men. A short daydream later he decided to abandon his quest for Quint and check the meaning of Atavistics. It was quickly revealed that it was from atavus meaning your great grandfather’s grandfather. An ancestor, a cave man, an old way. It had to be ancestor, the Atavistics as they called themselves were his ancestors. It was all becoming a little less opaque.

The next evening James sat in his favourite place where he could see the garden while addressing the rest of humanity through the fibre optic cable that was the conduit to the wider world. Nothing was reachable that told him what was going on in his life, nothing matched nor nudged the concept that was enveloping him. He thought that perhaps he should test the system and let go of his controls so that the Atavistics could make contact. The Sun wasn’t shining and the birds weren’t singing but he could lay on the sofa under the reading light and drink red wine and play his ‘Ultimate Tenors’ CD in the background.

Quint still hadn’t appeared. He knew that things this undefined can drift off the planned line and that was to be expected. He mused awhile but was suddenly awoken from his lingering glances at the milfs by the release of the first tranche of schoolchildren into the arms of their parents. It was then something happened, he made eye contact with a mum who held his gaze a little too long before attending to her daughter, she could be the Quint, he concluded, and slowly moved to position himself between her and the exit gates so a second contact could be made and a good first days start be completed.

He observed that she was in her thirties, about 5′-2” tall with medium length dark hair and was about 5 pounds above his upper limit of pulchritudinous perfection. She was blessed with a ramrod straight back that suggested the military, dance training or genetic good luck and this accentuated her perfect gowpen breasts. Her face was fascinating to him, the most attractive little face he had looked into in a very long while.

He was confused; if she was the Quint then she was very desirable and that broke the guidance from the Atavistics. He thought to himself that perhaps the Atavistics had meant that it wouldn’t be a coup de foudre as for him most women were desirable to some extent. This wasn’t making sense; it wasn’t chiming in time somehow.

When she had sorted her child they held hands and walked and talked as they made their way past him without any acknowledgement of his presence at all and slowly left the school premises. Doubt filled his mind as he struggled to decide what to do next. Nothing time consuming could happen as his granddaughter was due to leave class any moment. He looked at the classroom doors then at his Blackberry for the time then wondered again what to do. Forget it for now, let the Atavistics sort it out, try to catch another’s eye…
His thoughts were terminated by Lauren coming out of class. He waved to her but she had seen him anyway and ran over to him greeting him with a hug and kiss and then a pass over of all her baggage for him to carry to the car. The walk back to the car was uneventful and Lauren chatted about her day and her friends; he was sure that he laughed and tutted in the correct places but remembered little of the content. Once back in his home he cooked poached eggs on generously buttered toast for them both. A short while later his erstwhile daughter-in-law arrived from work to collect Lauren. Another series of hugs and kisses were shared with his granddaughter before they drove away and he was left alone in the house. Walking to his music player he played opera and then went to the sofa, closed his eyes and invited the Atavistics to communicate again.