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fellowshippers2008-06-20 08:23 pm
not-a-lamb.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2008-06-20 08:23 pm
Entry tags:
Universe Machine: Chapter 1/?
Title: Universe Machine: Chapter 1/?
Author: not_a_lamb
Beta: The lovely silentdescent, without whom I'd perish.
Rating: PG (for this part), NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: VM/DM with a smattering of BB/liv Tyler (nothing graphic, I promise.)
Summary: Physical Metaphysics class with Mr. Mortensen leads Dom to many new discoveries--like love.
Warning: High School AU, Blatent philosophizing, WIP.
Disclaimer: Based on a dream, so it's FICTION.
Prologue can be found here:
http://not-a-lamb.livejournal.com/45369.html#cutid1
Chapter One
"'I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life and not, when I came to die, realize that I had never lived.'" Viggo paused, looking each student in the eye in turn. "So what does Thoreau mean? Why did he have to leave society in order to 'live deep'?"
There was silence in the classroom as the students pondered Viggo's question. He understood the value of such silences, so Viggo said nothing. Finally, someone spoke. He was an unusual looking young man with an over-sized ears and largish nose.
"Well," he said, "nature brings us closer to truth, doesn't it? And 'living deep' means catching onto the essence of things. Striving to be closer to that truth, right?
"Jihad," Viggo proclaimed, bringing looks of surprise to his students' faces. He gently continued to explain. "That word means just what Dominic is talking about." Dom looked a little shocked and Viggo didn't know if it was that he'd called him by name or that he'd just accused him of supporting jihad.
Viggo smiled to himself and continued. "The word 'jihad' has been misconstrued by western media. In its truest translation, it is the duty of every Muslim and each of us here today. The word simply means 'striving'. For Muslims, it is striving to be closer to God. As for us, we will be striving to be closer to the mysteries of the universe, like Dom said."
A dark-haired boy sitting behind Dom--Elijah, Viggo recalled from the attendance sheet--looked twitchy and uncertain as he raised his hand. "Yes?" Viggo encouraged.
"So, what are we going to do?" he asked, nervously nudging his glasses up his nose. There was a sense of urgency in the way the boy spoke, Viggo noted--as if he were expecting to be cut off or contradicted, even with a simple question.
"We are going to seek," Viggo said, smiling gently. "You must each ask questions that have a myriad of answers and find the one that belongs to you and you alone. There are no right answers here. There are only your answers."
Viggo paused and glanced around the class, measuring his students' initial reactions to his words. Elijah looked skeptical and Viggo couldn't help but think that it was because Elijah had specialized thus far in knowing precisely the "right" answers. Orlando was smiling eagerly, as though he were more than ready for this next adventure. Liv looked as unfazed as ever, like she was withholding judgment for later. Billy seemed pleased and interested; he was sitting forward in his seat, watching Viggo with a twinkle in his eye. But it was with Dom that Viggo was most pleasantly surprised: the boy was rocking his feet, toe to heel to toe to heel, while his fingers drummed impatiently on his desktop. It was as though he were saying, Go ahead and just get on with it, then. I need to know more!
“For your first assignment,” Viggo said at last, “I'd like each of you to take out your notebooks and writing implements and draw something you find holy. It can be anything, or things, and it doesn't have to make sense to anyone but you. You may use pencils and pens if you like, but if you prefer, I have oil pastels up here on the podium. The rest of the class is yours, lady and gentlemen. Make it your own."
With that, Viggo stopped speaking and settled himself into a rather beaten armchair, pulling out a book of Donne.
_________________________
There was a startled silence as the small class watched their teacher's retreat, then a cacophony of zippers opening, pages turning, and chairs scuffing as a few students approached the podium for pastels. Then, silence.
Dom thought of the ocean first. It made him feel small and yet connected to something larger at the same time. But somehow, he felt that this was the easy answer, so he settled down to think.
Then he remembered a tree. A very particular tree from his grandmother's garden, where he often used to play. It never lost its leaves in the winter. Instead, its crimson leaves turned darker--almost purple--while the incessant rains covered the trunk with moss. Even as a lad, he'd known it was something special. Running his hands over the mossy trunk, he'd felt blessed.
After his grandma died, the house was sold at auction. The new owners cut down the tree to make way for their new swimming pool. In all his young years, Dom had never quite understood the idea of sin. Until then.
Dom retrieved the purple, red, green, and brown pastels and began to draw.
_________________________
Hours passed and the students began to trickle out of Viggo's classroom until there was only one left. As Viggo examined the drawings of his students, he felt his limited understanding of each of them grow.
Billy's drawing bore a striking resemblance to his classmate Liv. Viggo had to wonder at that. Liv had a reputation around the school of being quite the man-eater--and she certainly looked the part with her silky black hair, dark lipstick and curve-hugging clothes--but she'd seemed so reserved and respectful in class that Viggo didn't know what to believe. He knew her to be a musician, quite the rocker-chick if the rumours were true, and he wondered if it was her music, her looks, or something more substantial that spoke to Billy.
Orlando's picture intrigued Viggo as well. It featured an astounding cliff and a person diving off it into a lake. Viggo had to hope that it wasn't Dead Man's Bluff, and that the energetic young man wasn't that insane, but the resemblance was uncanny. Viggo shivered. Living was extreme enough for him; he didn't feel compelled to launch himself off a cliff.
Liv's picture was of a single green eye, the color so deep it could only be called emerald. It was not attached to a face, but it seemed to sing with a life of its own. Viggo found himself perplexed. The girl must have a thing for eyes, he guessed, and he had said that the assignment needn't make sense to anyone other than the student. But this was certainly not the image he would have expected from someone into sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll.
With one final glance, he placed the image aside and found himself staring at an intricate crucifix. Elijah, that bundle of nervous energy, had drawn it. Viggo frowned; he considered a crucifix a safe answer to the question he'd posed, and yet, this one was drawn with such detail and precision that Elijah's devotion, the subject's sanctity, felt almost tangible to Viggo. Perhaps Elijah had crafted what was most holy to him.
And then there was Dom, who was still struggling with the assignment. Viggo looked up, jostled from his musings by a muttered curse as another version of whatever Dom was working on crumpled and tossed to the floor. Viggo stood.
He approached Dom's desk and knelt down to peer at what the young man was working on. The ground was littered with discarded pages and Viggo had to take care not to step on any of them. Viggo waited in silence, offering help though his presence, yet unwilling to interrupt if his assistance was unwanted.
"I just can't get it right," Dom murmured softly without looking up.
"It doesn't need to be perfect, Dom," Viggo replied gently, "it just needs to be honest."
"But it was..."Dom hesitantly met Viggo's eyes, as he searched for the right words. "It was perfect and I want to show it... show it respect."
Viggo reached down and uncrumpled one of the pages. There he saw a perfectly rendered plum tree, its lithe trunk dressed in moss. It was beautiful. He could feel the joy and purity radiating from the paper. He noticed Dom watching him and tried to gather his emotions. "Are they all like this?" Viggo asked quietly, his voice a bit rougher than usual
"They're all pretty much the same," Dom grumbled. "I just can't get it."
_________________________
Dom stared down at the page before him. He knew that it was pretty, maybe even well crafted, but it lacked the power, the unchecked, savage beauty of the real thing. He watched his new teacher's timeworn hands drift over one of his drafts and wondered at how comfortable he felt with this man. How vulnerability didn't feel like a risk, but rather a welcome expectation. Familiarity had never come this easily and deeply to Dom before. Even with Billy, they'd had to work up to true openness. Dom felt very little distance between himself and Viggo, and while that probably should have scared him, instead it brought him a quiet peace.
Viggo hesitated, eyes locked on the tree before him. "I know that yours is the opinion that matters in this," Viggo began slowly, "but I feel goodness, when I look at your tree." He smiled. "It's a little startling, actually."
Dom felt a swell of satisfaction at Viggo's praise. Maybe he'd gotten closer than he thought.
"Really?" Dom asked, his eyebrows raised, wanting to believe.
"Really." Viggo nodded. "But I encourage you to keep working on it, until you feel it's right."
"Yeah?" Dom laughed. "'Cause I can be a little obsessive about things. Drives Billy crazy. Can't ever just let it go."
"You'll get plenty of practice with that in this class, I promise." Viggo said, smiling. "This class is all about connecting with something bigger, and to do that, sometimes you have to let everything go."
"But that's only sometimes, right?" Dom asked.
"Well," Viggo said, smiling a soft, private smile. "Sometimes it's the things or people you hold onto that bring you closest to--well...God, for lack of a better word."
Dom's gaze dropped briefly to Viggo's hands before returning to his face. "Yeah, I've heard people say that...” he muttered, his cheeks burning a little, “but I've never experienced it myself."
Viggo smiled, and, in that second, Dom's breath caught in his throat.
"Trust me, Dom: one day, you will."
Author: not_a_lamb
Beta: The lovely silentdescent, without whom I'd perish.
Rating: PG (for this part), NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: VM/DM with a smattering of BB/liv Tyler (nothing graphic, I promise.)
Summary: Physical Metaphysics class with Mr. Mortensen leads Dom to many new discoveries--like love.
Warning: High School AU, Blatent philosophizing, WIP.
Disclaimer: Based on a dream, so it's FICTION.
Prologue can be found here:
http://not-a-lamb.livejournal.com/45369.html#cutid1
Chapter One
"'I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life and not, when I came to die, realize that I had never lived.'" Viggo paused, looking each student in the eye in turn. "So what does Thoreau mean? Why did he have to leave society in order to 'live deep'?"
There was silence in the classroom as the students pondered Viggo's question. He understood the value of such silences, so Viggo said nothing. Finally, someone spoke. He was an unusual looking young man with an over-sized ears and largish nose.
"Well," he said, "nature brings us closer to truth, doesn't it? And 'living deep' means catching onto the essence of things. Striving to be closer to that truth, right?
"Jihad," Viggo proclaimed, bringing looks of surprise to his students' faces. He gently continued to explain. "That word means just what Dominic is talking about." Dom looked a little shocked and Viggo didn't know if it was that he'd called him by name or that he'd just accused him of supporting jihad.
Viggo smiled to himself and continued. "The word 'jihad' has been misconstrued by western media. In its truest translation, it is the duty of every Muslim and each of us here today. The word simply means 'striving'. For Muslims, it is striving to be closer to God. As for us, we will be striving to be closer to the mysteries of the universe, like Dom said."
A dark-haired boy sitting behind Dom--Elijah, Viggo recalled from the attendance sheet--looked twitchy and uncertain as he raised his hand. "Yes?" Viggo encouraged.
"So, what are we going to do?" he asked, nervously nudging his glasses up his nose. There was a sense of urgency in the way the boy spoke, Viggo noted--as if he were expecting to be cut off or contradicted, even with a simple question.
"We are going to seek," Viggo said, smiling gently. "You must each ask questions that have a myriad of answers and find the one that belongs to you and you alone. There are no right answers here. There are only your answers."
Viggo paused and glanced around the class, measuring his students' initial reactions to his words. Elijah looked skeptical and Viggo couldn't help but think that it was because Elijah had specialized thus far in knowing precisely the "right" answers. Orlando was smiling eagerly, as though he were more than ready for this next adventure. Liv looked as unfazed as ever, like she was withholding judgment for later. Billy seemed pleased and interested; he was sitting forward in his seat, watching Viggo with a twinkle in his eye. But it was with Dom that Viggo was most pleasantly surprised: the boy was rocking his feet, toe to heel to toe to heel, while his fingers drummed impatiently on his desktop. It was as though he were saying, Go ahead and just get on with it, then. I need to know more!
“For your first assignment,” Viggo said at last, “I'd like each of you to take out your notebooks and writing implements and draw something you find holy. It can be anything, or things, and it doesn't have to make sense to anyone but you. You may use pencils and pens if you like, but if you prefer, I have oil pastels up here on the podium. The rest of the class is yours, lady and gentlemen. Make it your own."
With that, Viggo stopped speaking and settled himself into a rather beaten armchair, pulling out a book of Donne.
_________________________
There was a startled silence as the small class watched their teacher's retreat, then a cacophony of zippers opening, pages turning, and chairs scuffing as a few students approached the podium for pastels. Then, silence.
Dom thought of the ocean first. It made him feel small and yet connected to something larger at the same time. But somehow, he felt that this was the easy answer, so he settled down to think.
Then he remembered a tree. A very particular tree from his grandmother's garden, where he often used to play. It never lost its leaves in the winter. Instead, its crimson leaves turned darker--almost purple--while the incessant rains covered the trunk with moss. Even as a lad, he'd known it was something special. Running his hands over the mossy trunk, he'd felt blessed.
After his grandma died, the house was sold at auction. The new owners cut down the tree to make way for their new swimming pool. In all his young years, Dom had never quite understood the idea of sin. Until then.
Dom retrieved the purple, red, green, and brown pastels and began to draw.
_________________________
Hours passed and the students began to trickle out of Viggo's classroom until there was only one left. As Viggo examined the drawings of his students, he felt his limited understanding of each of them grow.
Billy's drawing bore a striking resemblance to his classmate Liv. Viggo had to wonder at that. Liv had a reputation around the school of being quite the man-eater--and she certainly looked the part with her silky black hair, dark lipstick and curve-hugging clothes--but she'd seemed so reserved and respectful in class that Viggo didn't know what to believe. He knew her to be a musician, quite the rocker-chick if the rumours were true, and he wondered if it was her music, her looks, or something more substantial that spoke to Billy.
Orlando's picture intrigued Viggo as well. It featured an astounding cliff and a person diving off it into a lake. Viggo had to hope that it wasn't Dead Man's Bluff, and that the energetic young man wasn't that insane, but the resemblance was uncanny. Viggo shivered. Living was extreme enough for him; he didn't feel compelled to launch himself off a cliff.
Liv's picture was of a single green eye, the color so deep it could only be called emerald. It was not attached to a face, but it seemed to sing with a life of its own. Viggo found himself perplexed. The girl must have a thing for eyes, he guessed, and he had said that the assignment needn't make sense to anyone other than the student. But this was certainly not the image he would have expected from someone into sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll.
With one final glance, he placed the image aside and found himself staring at an intricate crucifix. Elijah, that bundle of nervous energy, had drawn it. Viggo frowned; he considered a crucifix a safe answer to the question he'd posed, and yet, this one was drawn with such detail and precision that Elijah's devotion, the subject's sanctity, felt almost tangible to Viggo. Perhaps Elijah had crafted what was most holy to him.
And then there was Dom, who was still struggling with the assignment. Viggo looked up, jostled from his musings by a muttered curse as another version of whatever Dom was working on crumpled and tossed to the floor. Viggo stood.
He approached Dom's desk and knelt down to peer at what the young man was working on. The ground was littered with discarded pages and Viggo had to take care not to step on any of them. Viggo waited in silence, offering help though his presence, yet unwilling to interrupt if his assistance was unwanted.
"I just can't get it right," Dom murmured softly without looking up.
"It doesn't need to be perfect, Dom," Viggo replied gently, "it just needs to be honest."
"But it was..."Dom hesitantly met Viggo's eyes, as he searched for the right words. "It was perfect and I want to show it... show it respect."
Viggo reached down and uncrumpled one of the pages. There he saw a perfectly rendered plum tree, its lithe trunk dressed in moss. It was beautiful. He could feel the joy and purity radiating from the paper. He noticed Dom watching him and tried to gather his emotions. "Are they all like this?" Viggo asked quietly, his voice a bit rougher than usual
"They're all pretty much the same," Dom grumbled. "I just can't get it."
_________________________
Dom stared down at the page before him. He knew that it was pretty, maybe even well crafted, but it lacked the power, the unchecked, savage beauty of the real thing. He watched his new teacher's timeworn hands drift over one of his drafts and wondered at how comfortable he felt with this man. How vulnerability didn't feel like a risk, but rather a welcome expectation. Familiarity had never come this easily and deeply to Dom before. Even with Billy, they'd had to work up to true openness. Dom felt very little distance between himself and Viggo, and while that probably should have scared him, instead it brought him a quiet peace.
Viggo hesitated, eyes locked on the tree before him. "I know that yours is the opinion that matters in this," Viggo began slowly, "but I feel goodness, when I look at your tree." He smiled. "It's a little startling, actually."
Dom felt a swell of satisfaction at Viggo's praise. Maybe he'd gotten closer than he thought.
"Really?" Dom asked, his eyebrows raised, wanting to believe.
"Really." Viggo nodded. "But I encourage you to keep working on it, until you feel it's right."
"Yeah?" Dom laughed. "'Cause I can be a little obsessive about things. Drives Billy crazy. Can't ever just let it go."
"You'll get plenty of practice with that in this class, I promise." Viggo said, smiling. "This class is all about connecting with something bigger, and to do that, sometimes you have to let everything go."
"But that's only sometimes, right?" Dom asked.
"Well," Viggo said, smiling a soft, private smile. "Sometimes it's the things or people you hold onto that bring you closest to--well...God, for lack of a better word."
Dom's gaze dropped briefly to Viggo's hands before returning to his face. "Yeah, I've heard people say that...” he muttered, his cheeks burning a little, “but I've never experienced it myself."
Viggo smiled, and, in that second, Dom's breath caught in his throat.
"Trust me, Dom: one day, you will."
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I just had a good time writing Dom's destraction via Viggo's hands. Actually, that whole section was bliss to write.
I really appreciate all your help, hon. This would be a mess without you. :)
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You are now officially influential! Lol.
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I feel so powerful...hehe. :)
Thanks for reading and commenting!
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The next chapter should be posted within a week.
Thanks for reading!
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I wish I'd had classes like this too! There's a lot of wish fulfillment here. :)
I hope the wait doesn't injure you too much. The next chapter should be up in a few days.