Fanny Blomme part 10

Updated: Dec 28, 2020


Picture credit https://pixabay.com/users/geralt-9301/




The Preceptor appeared in more defined human shapes as Fanny Blomme became more skilled at living and passed various learning goals. Maybe it was a mirage. Fanny had noticed that when she drew faces, the human eye could make up details that were missing. She could indicate where a feature of a face was without actually drawing it. Perhaps she was making the Preceptor's image up. It was a question that could not be answered, along with so many others. But she felt certain it was real on some level.


The Preceptor was a genderless mannequin of moving lights in kaleidoscope patterns that throbbed and pulsed to the rhythm of spoken words. But Fanny assumed the tutor were male, for the purpose of identification. Non-binary definitions of gender were not part of the zeitgeist in the 1980s and humans are always a product of their social times. This was what Fanny had discovered so far and she was pleased to share her new knowledge with her tutor.


'Humans are not able to think for themselves, she said, grimacing. 'It is their biggest failing. New ideas are slow to come because it takes each generation to reject the experience of the previous one. But they never learn, they try to change, in a knee jerk way, and then rebel against an idea or a method. And yet, they don't really move on from their entrapment.'


The Preceptor was bemused. "Explain,' he demanded.


'They are controlled by greed and desires only. These factors are prime forces and intellectual benefit and advancement without financial gain is deemed irrelevant. Then they are controlled by the feelings in their loins. Whoever can harness the channels of profit are considered godlike. But the channels are very hard to harness and very few humans manage it. Most are slaves, especially women, but also men and non-white people. They are blind to this folly. And it is folly indeed for happiness is rare.'



Fanny continued, 'Preceptor, I have learned so much and yet you do not allow me to leave this wretchedness. This indecent intolerable misery is never-ending'.


Fanny had been under the care of her doctor since she was a child who administered various pills for the treatment of her eating disorder and depression.


'The pills have stopped working' she said, 'and I dream of death again. What will happen if I die?'


'Unfortunately, I cannot shine any light on the after death, that remains something you need to discover yourself,' said the Preceptor, turning well-defined oranges and blues.


Fanny looked down at the floor in defeat.

'

I thought you were having fun,' mused the Preceptor.' All the sex and booze and parties seem to occupy you quite well.'



photo credit https://pixabay.com/users/comfreak-51581/



'Ah, you toy with me for sure Preceptor, for I know that the pleasures of the flesh and temporary fascinations of the brain are not for learning, per se. There is no enlightenment in such follies. I am here for something other, surely. Sometimes I see it when I am high, but then it is gone....it doesn't stay. The knowledge is air, worse than water even. Both invisible and uncontained. I even tried writing it down, this certainty that comes in the high zone when the ghastliness of human existence is vanished. But the words make no sense once the drugs wear off.'


The Preceptor looked confused, its colours browned and blackened.




The drugs were wearing off.


'Please don't go!"


The Preceptor was most pleased that Fanny Blomme had figured out this important milestone. Her purpose on earth was indeed to discover enlightenment, the higher knowledge of life itself that very few humans could reach. This knowledge, once realised, would mean that the humans and the illuminations could form a union that would be mutually beneficial.


But Fanny was at the start of a long journey and there were many hurdles in the way.



Fanny swigged from the beer can and looked at the youthful face of the boy in the hall. The music vibrated through her thigh-high boots from the living room. What harm could he do?


'Maybe babies are the answer. At least it would give me purpose.'


'What did you say?' said the youth, rattling his studded leather jacket like armour and snarling like a little warrior.


'Nothing important, I am Fanny Blomme. Shall we fuck?'




photo credit https://pixabay.com/users/comfreak-51581/



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