+- The First Age (https://thefirstage.org/forums)
+-- Forum: News & Discussion (https://thefirstage.org/forums/forum-3.html)
+--- Forum: Biographies & Backstory (https://thefirstage.org/forums/forum-10.html)
+--- Thread: Connor Kent (/thread-267.html)
Re: Connor Kent - Connor Kent - 03-12-2014
Stats
Height: 6'
Weight: 205 lbs
Hair: Dirty Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Build: Solid
Profession: IT Admin
Hobbies: Gym, Running, Reading, Writing, Music, Movies, TV, languages, history, camping, survival training.
In the 6th Age:
He was born as Priam, a solid man with simple needs. The god-wars had been raging for decades, with the people in the large cities bearing the brunt of the wars. Society in those cities was chaotic and stability was breaking down. But the back-waters of the world still had some peace as the war had not yet fully intruded on their lives. Priam was a son with an ancient lineage, the “Remnant”, a once proud and honored people that still maintained their warrior tradition. Not much remained of their memory except for the distant stories of once being the made by the first man Iasan; that they were Drakonodon, “Teeth of the Dragon”; the belief that one day they would be needed again.
Such stories heartened and defined them as they lived simple lives. Priam married Thetis but they remained childless. For 10 years, he and his wife along with father and mother and brothers worked together to survive on their rocky and hilly land, pastoral but for the occasional squabble or raid from the ever wandering nomadic peoples. It was a hard but satisfying life.
And then the god-wars forced their way into their lives. As Titan and Olympian fought and died and killed, one group fled to those same backwaters. Their god-powered transport was damaged and crashed near the home of Priam, killing almost everyone on board. He made his way to the wreckage and discovered an infant, sheltered in the arms of his dead mother. The child had the Olympian thunderbolt marked on the back of his head, indicating he was one of the god-children, born of god-parents and surely destined for god-hood himself. The cries of the child stirred something in Priam. His own wife, Thetis, had finally become pregnant, but had lost the child just a few days ago and was deeply grieved. He took the child home and showed him to her. Nothing could replace their baby. But this child had no mother or father. It would die without them. They opened their hearts to the baby and named him Achilles. He became their son, as much their flesh as any that might have been born of Thetis’ body. As long as his head was never shaved, no one would ever know. Not long afterwards, Thetis again became pregnant and had a second son, Iphicles. This child too was loved and both boys never knew they weren’t fleshly brothers, with all the affection and squabbles that brothers have.
But Priam and Thetis knew that Achilles would especially need them as he grew older. They were ever vigilant to teach their son compassion and justice now, while he was young.
*
Iphicles was crying while Mama comforted him. Achilles had pushed him down and was now looking defiantly at Papa, who had demanded an explanation.
“He broke my soldier! The one you made for me!”
“And?,” Papa said, upset. “Does that mean you can push him down for that?”
“But he broke it! I told him not to touch it. Instead he took it and broke it!” Achilles glared at his brother. “He did it on purpose!”
Papa spoke calmly. “Do you think he really wanted to break your toy?”
Achilles knew that Papa had him there, but he was unwilling to back down. “It doesn’t matter. I can be mad at him for breaking it.”
“Oh? And what about pushing him? Is it ok to hurt someone if they make you mad?”
Achilles thought about that. But then he saw his broken soldier. Papa had made it for him. It was special. He got angrier as he thought about his Papa making it for him and then Iphicles taking it when he told him not to and then breaking it. “Yes! He deserved it!”
Papa quickly stood up to his full height. Suddenly, Achilles felt very, very small. He was big for 7, but next to Papa, he was tiny, with his gigantic muscles and back from working the fields. Papa’s face looked mad and his voice became so quiet it was scary. “And so when I get angry with you for not doing your chores, does that mean I can push you down?” Papa hadn’t moved, but suddenly Achilles felt scared looking up at him.
And then Papa knelt down and gently took Achilles’ shoulders in his big hands. His face wasn’t scary anymore and his voice was nice. It was low and deep, but that made Achilles feel safe. “Son, being bigger or stronger doesn’t mean you get to hurt someone whenever you want.”
Achilles looked down. Papa was bigger than me, but never hurt me, even when he got mad. He wasn’t angry at Iphicles anymore. Instead, he heard his little brother crying and apologizing and it made him sad. He started to cry. Papa took him into his arms, against his chest. Achilles felt warm and safe there. And ashamed. “I’m so sorry Papa.” He looked at his little brother, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to break it, Achilles,” Iphicles was saying through his tears.
He felt bad he had hurt Iphicles. As much as he wanted to stay there, he pulled away from Papa and went to hug him. “I’m sorry Iphicles! I know you didn’t mean it. It was an accident”, he said. He saw how little his brother, only 5, was compared to him. Just like me and Papa. He looked at his Papa and saw him smiling. It made him feel good inside.
Papa came over to them and pulled Mama to them until they were all sitting next to each and hugging or holding hands. “Son, we will always be bigger than some people and smaller than others.” Achilles tried to imagine Papa being smaller than someone else. It was hard. Well, some of his uncles were taller than Papa, but they didn’t actually seem bigger. “It doesn’t matter, though. We protect people, Son. We are protectors.” Papa looked him directly in the eye and his voice was strong, but not mad. “Especially, Achilles, especially we protect those smaller or weaker than us. We are not bullies. So you protect your little brother.” Achilles felt those words go into him. I am a protector. I will protect Iphicles…and all the other kids too.
Papa then smiled at him. Iphicles had stopped crying too. “Remember who we are, my sons. Drakonodon. ‘Teeth of the Dragon.’”
Achilles fought a smile. He loved that story. “Papa, will you tell us about when Iasan made the Drakonodon and killed the serpent Ydra?”
Papa smiled. “Ok.” Papa let go and sat back, crossing his legs. Mama was next to him. He looked from Achilles to Iphicles and back.
“Long ago, long before the Titans or the Olympians or any other gods, there was Earth and Sky. Sky was young and the new Light streamed from the infant Sun. Mist rose from the earth as the Light touched the water, creating light and dark clouds, pushing and pulling and swirling into each other. Sound was new and fresh and moved like liquid throughout the new-formed Earth. It was perfect.
Then, among the dark clouds, a darkness appeared- the seed of chaos. It was just a pinpoint of darkness, but it sucked in the dark-clouds. The clouds spun as they went into the darkness. The darkness rained black oil and it fell to Earth, burning her. She groaned and heaved as the oil cut her.
But the white clouds spun about themselves too, sucking in the Light of the Sun. Those clouds became one brightly shining ball of Light. And then the ball became a crystal egg- blazing with the light- and it floated to the ground. Earth opened herself and a mountain in the shape of an open hand emerged from its depths to gently cradle the egg of light.
And the egg cracked and the light within broke free. It took the shape of a man, strong as crystal and bright as the sun. Light shone from his face and chest, and he wore lightning on his belt. In his hands he wielded a great sword with which to fight the Chaos.
At the very same time, the black ball too had become an egg, lighting of black licking about its surface. And then it too cracked- sickly green light oozing from the cracks. It split open, the shell fragments falling slowly like leaves to the ground. Out slithered Ydra, the beast of the darkness. Ydra’s black eyelids opened and green fires blazed behind those eyes. Ydra came forth covered in scales that dripped black oil. Small heads sprouted from Ydra, growing until there were 13, sitting atop long slender scaly necks.
Iasan strode forth, his crystal sword blazing in his hand. He struck at the closest head and the neck sizzled as the sword cut through it. The head dropped to the ground and melted. Three times Iasan ducked the hissing heads and struck, until three heads littered the ground. But as Iasan severed that third one, one of the other heads bit into his side and tore a chunk of his flesh. Ydra seemed to grow from the meat in its teeth. Earth screamed and her mountains were shaken. Sky darkened until the star shapes could be seen, Eagle, Bear, and the Great Dragon. And then a new head burst forth from each severed neck, growing larger and larger.
Iasan cried out in pain and fell back, weakened, as blood and water spilled out from his side and flowed onto the ground forming a pool. Iasan looked up at Sky and saw the Great Dragon’s stars twinkling. Sky, wanting to come to his aid, bent himself down until Iasan could touch the great blackness of the vault. Iasan snatched 12 teeth from the Great Dragon’s mouth. The stars burned and smoked in his hand and he plunged them into the pool of his blood and water. The stars sizzled and then began to grow, becoming men.
Each man was wreathed in dark shadow like leaves, eyes sparkling in the glow of their crystal spears. They stood and helped Iasan up. Looking at them, Iasan smiled grimly, determined, and turned back to Ydra. He lifted his sword and suddenly it was pure light. Iasan ran toward Ydra, cutting off each head in turn. And behind him followed the Teeth of the Dragon made flesh. As soon as each head was lopped off, one of the men shoved his glowing spear into the neck. The spear head blazed and burned and no new heads grew.
Finally, Iasan stood face to face with Ydra. He grabbed Ydra’s tail with his right hand and spun him about. Then he hurled Ydra out away from Earth. Sky cried as Ydra pierced him and passed through him, off into the unknown.
Then, spent, Iasan collapsed, blood continuing to flow from his side. Around him stood the Teeth of the Dragon, the Drakonodon. “Hear me, my people! I die, but you will live. From my body will come the nations and races of men. I charge you Teeth of the Dragon, I charge you to watch over them and protect them.”
Iasan’s head then fell back and he died. The hand that had held the stars had turned black. It melted an opening into Earth. The other hand, white as bone, also melted and burned another opening into Earth. And out of those openings men and women came forth. These were the first gods to walk the earth.
Iasan’s legs melted and there grew from his right leg a large man clad in animal skin, thunderbolt in his hand, its light reflecting in his eyes: Perkwunos the Striker, The Provider. And from his left leg grew another man clad in robes, holding bone dice in his right hand and scales in his left hand: Kmir the judge.
Finally, Iasan’s feet melted, and from each toe came a different man and woman, all the ten nations of mankind.
Thus there came from Iaman all the people of Earth: the gods who took the power of Iaman as their own, the Thunderer under whose rains we shelter and live, the Chooser who gives us what is unknown in life. And finally, my sons, the Drakonodon. We are the last remnant of those people. We are all that is left of the Dragon’s Teeth.
But we remember our charge.”
Thetis, Achilles and Iphicles repeated after him. “We remember our charge.”
*
Achilles took his Father’s instruction to heart. Never again did he lash out in anger. Instead, when he saw injustice, he acted. Together, he and Iphicles his brother became known as the Son’s of Thunder for their fearless exploits. As the god-wars grew in scope, so too did their back-water villages grow. People flocked to their region, running, fleeing, escaping, hoping to find refuge and peace. Other villages and cities sometimes attacked and Achilles and Iphicles joined their father in the defense of the city. Eventually, the god-wars themselves came, causing pain and ruin and devastation. Achilles had seen the misery written in blood that they had caused, and his hatred of them grew.
During one bloody attack, Achilles saw his brother Iphicles struck down by a god as he fought another god, head shaved so the lightning bolt on the back of his skull gleamed in the light. At that moment, in a fit of rage at seeing his brother go down, Achilles channeled for the first time, killing both gods instantly. He was able to help his brother to safety.
Afterwards he confronted his father about what had happened and Priam reluctantly told him the truth of his origins. He told him of the markings on the back of his skill that was hidden by his hair. Achilles was hurt and scared.
*
Achilles felt at the back of his head, trying to sense the markings Mother and Father said were there, trying to see if he felt any difference, something that set him apart. He felt like his was drowning, like the time he had been in the ocean and had been pulled under by a current. He couldn’t breathe. His foundation was his family, his father and mother, his brother. And now, I find out that Father isn’t my….He rejected that thought violently. What am I?
“Son, I know this is so hard.” Priam’s eyes glistened with tears. “But we love you so very much. Nothing has changed for us.”
“Nothing??!!” The thought made him explode. “How can you say that Father? Nothing has changed? Everything has changed!” He felt at the back of his head again. “All my life you told me I was your son.”
“You are my son!,” Priam tried to say, but Achilles went on.
“You taught me how to be a good man. And now I find out…now I learn I’m one of them? I’ve hated them all my life. You taught me that. I’ve seen the refugees, the ones who escaped.” The memories came to him. A woman in tattered and burned clothing, eyes red-rimmed with tears, streaks of white on her soot-stained face. She stumbled along the road, almost ready to collapse. In her arms she carried a child, looking maybe like he was three. He had been burned horribly when a stray fireball from one of the gods struck the house. One of his eyes was milky white, with the skin fissured and red and black all over his face, his ears melted into twisted lumps. He wasn’t moving. They had tried to help him, but the boy was dead. That winter the woman threw herself into the river and drowned. A small girl found in the woods, scared and skittish, bony arms and ribs visible thrown torn clothing, cuts and scrapes on her young body. How long had been hiding? He heard of the disappeared girls, taken from their homes to the houses of the gods, to be used and traded. An ocean of people’s pain that meant nothing to them. And Iphicles, body broken and blood pumping from wounds made by jagged wood fragments jutting from stomach and neck. Fear and revulsion welled up inside him. “And I am one of them?!” He was angry and terrified. “I have this…this power. Will I change too?” He whispered “Is that what I will become?”
Priam took him by his shoulders, squeezing hard with his hands. “You listen to me son. Listen! Look at me!” Reluctantly, Achilles looked him in the eyes. They were hard and clear and his face was as fierce as he had ever seen. “I am your father! I raised you. And I know you better than anyone!”
Achilles felt those words go into him. They pierced his heart. They were something to hold onto. “Son, you are going to be something in this world. I don’t know what. But I believe in you. Your mother believes in you. Iphicles believes you. You are going to inspire goodness and hope in others. That I do know.” He felt his father’s sincerity. He believes in me. It was as simple as that. Father believed in him. Father trusted him. He clung to that anchor.
*
From that point on, after surviving the sickness, Achilles used his power and worked surreptitiously to sabotage the gods as they and their wars grew in the area. He and his father and brother organized others to carry on the work underground. At one point, Achilles was discovered and had to flee, eventually making his way to Asia Minor. There he came across another god, Enki, and discovered that he wasn’t alone in not letting his ability to call on the power make him evil. They became close friends. As they traveled and helped people, they eventually met others like them- Prometheus, Tammuz, and Utnapishtim. After enough time had gone by, they returned to Achilles home, only to discover that Priam and Iphicles had been killed by the gods during their underground activity. The death cut Achilles to his heart and he wanted revenge. But his father’s words stayed with him. “You are my son. I believe in you.” He knew he had to find a way to help the people stand against the gods, especially the Drakonodon remnant, to stop them once and for all. And so rebellion continued to spread, as more and more people took up anything they could find. Even gods who had not been evil, or those that sought redemption, such as Hektor, joined their cause, making the rebellions more successful.
They learned of a weapons facility at Troy, run by the eminent god-scientist Helen, and decided to get inside and steal anything the rebellion could use, or failing that, to destroy the place. Using an inverted weave of invisibility, Achilles and many of his companions hid inside a materials shipment and were able to sneak in. Unknown to him, though, Hektor had been a spy for the Olympians and alerted the gods. Achilles was able to kill Hektor, though, and they escaped with losses. Achilles redoubled his efforts and soon conducted successful raids on other facilities. These activities inspired both humans and those gods that chose to help them in other regions of the earth, finally helping to tip the balance in the favor of mankind.
Eventually, though, Achilles was killed when a mortal, Paris, thinking him to be just like the other Olympians gods, shot him from ambush with a weapon.
7th/1st Age
Connor Alexander Kent was born in 1998 in Flagstaff, AZ, USA, the son of Liam Kent. He grew up in northwest New Mexico amid the environmental disasters that affected US coastal cities. The regions further inland began to receive a huge influx of people fleeing, seeking to start over in more stable and less volatile areas. The four corners states, Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico, together with the mid-western states of Wyoming, Idaho and the Dakotas had been able to not only survive but also thrive due to the abundant farmland and natural resources, including coal, oil and natural gas, they contained. These mid-west states became economic power-houses and occupied the position California once did, making them largely responsible for helping the US limp through the disasters of the era. Even the entertainment industry followed suit, with Phoenix, AZ becoming the new Hollywood. Now, more than ever, people the world over turned to entertainment to distract or help them get through their lives. Northern New Mexico had a couple large cities and was served by the booming natural gas industry. There was relative affluence but also great poverty.
Connor’s father Liam had been a long distance hauler, while his mother Katerina nee Delov had worked as an airline agent. Connor’s father died in 2012 when he was just 13 years old. His father hadn’t been very involved in his life, so when he died, Connor missed more the idea of having a father than the actual man himself. There was one exception, though, one thing that always made him think of his. Music. During those few times when he got to ride with his father to Nebraska or Texas, the iPod was their constant companion. At those times, his dad would share his love of music. He would discuss specific artists and bands, music trends and influences, or what the context for a style of music was, the revolutionary styles and sounds that came at specific periods of time. He could go on for hours about the cyclical nature of music, the endless push and pull between catchy light-hearted love-themed popular music and music that had an edge, dealt with difficult or depressing subjects, or tried to effect a social change, always using his library to illustrate his points.
When his dad died, Connor got his iPod and in a way, it was like he carried a piece of his father with him. So as the years went by, while loving contemporary music as much as his peers (including the Smoles, Rasputin’s Download, Knee Jerq, Czar Tomorrow, Crutch Rocket and the now elder stateswoman of pop, Katy Perry), he also loved the oldies his father had shared with him: Pink Floyd, The Police, U2, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Beastie Boys, Rage Against the Machine, NWA, Dre, and Wutang . He would go for runs or hang out in his room, and later drive, and they kept him company. His dad kept him company. At yet the same time, without consciously meaning to, he found himself disappointed in his father, that he had not known how to be more a part of his life. He determined that he would try harder to show the affection and direction for his own children that he had desperately wanted from his own father.
Connor grew up and started working as an IT administrator for a middling sized business. At the age of 23, in 2022, he married Jamie Anderson, a nurse. In 2023, their son Hayden was born. The labor had not been without problems, and he ended up being delivered by C-section toward the evening.
*
Connor felt a profound sense of peace and determination as he watched the delivery team wash, weigh and take his newborn son to the NICU. Jaime was sleeping from the anesthesia and was wheeled back into her room. After some time had gone by, he was finally allowed into the NICU in the evening to see his son. They were concerned that his lungs weren’t fully developed and oxygenating fully. So small. 5 pounds 12 ounces. 15 inches in length. He was under an oxygen delivery system of some sort and sleeping. He was so tiny that the container that usually was positioned over a baby’s head with an opening for the neck instead went down to his shoulders. His little hands were clenched into tiny fists- perfectly formed nails white- though he seemed still and at peace. My son, he thought to himself over and over again. My boy, and he tried to imaging this infant crawling or walking or talking or all the other things he’d eventually do. He looked at his head, fine brown hair on his mottled red skin. Hayden’s face crinkled and then he sneezed, his whole body jerking, and then he started crying. He had woken himself up. It was a high-pitched cry, unsure of what it wanted. He laid his hand on Hayden’s chest, his whole hand span- thumb to little finger, encircling it to the blanket. He could feel the tiny quick heartbeat. Skin to skin, soft and warm, he felt a connection with his son. “Shhhh buddy. It’s ok. Shhh,” he whispered. After a moment, Hayden grew still and his breathing became regular in sleep. He wondered at the person behind those closed eyes. Who are you, little one? What will you be bud?
He felt an awesome sense of responsibility. The next few decades of his life had a tight focus now. He felt awe at this trust given to him and prayed in gratitude, in humility, and for guidance. He looked at his hand on his son’s torso, felt that connection. “I swear to you, my son, I swear to you before God himself, that I will be your father for all time. I will be there for you no matter what. I will protect you and teach you. I promise you, my little boy. I promise you I will be the best father to you that I can be.” It came from his soul, the deepest place he could imagine. It was a holy vow, something done only a few times in life, every bit as sacred as the marriage vows he had taken only 12 months before. It was a promise and he would live up to it the best he knew how.
*
Life always starts with the best of intentions. That could be said of Connor and Jaime’s marriage. But people are people. They were never a good match, though they both tried, especially for Hayden’s sake. Eventually, Jaime left him though. Though he was devastated, his primary concern was his son. Now, more than ever, Hayden would need stability. They divided things amicably, determined to work together to meet Hayden’s needs. They would share custody, with one parent taking turns as primary for the year. When Jaime moved to Denver, that necessitated an adjustment to their schedules. Every two weeks, Connor would drive up to some remote town half-way to Denver and either get Hayden for the weekend or leave him with his mom for the weekend, depending on who the primary was. For years, Connor and Jaime worked at making sure both parents got to spend time with their son. The trips were long and at times got old. But they also were perfect times to just enjoy each other’s company.
*
2036
Connor waited in the car while Hayden went into the store to get some snacks. 13 years old, now, Connor could see the man Hayden would become peeking through that face that was still more a kid’s. He still couldn’t believe he was the father of a teenager. He didn’t feel old at all at 37 years of age. He felt the same as he did in his late teens and early 20’s, the same person. Smarter, sure. More experienced, yeah. He’d done a lot more in life and took things in stride that once would have been nerve wracking. But underneath it all, he was still the same person he always had been. And yet now he had a son whose coming adulthood was only a few years away. It was sobering. I still have so much more to do, he thought, overwhelmed. Driving a car. Managing money and paying bills. Getting a job. So much left to do.
Hayden got into the car with a couple bags of chips and almonds, some beef jerky, a sports drink for himself and some water for Connor.
“They didn’t have any pistachios, so I got you almonds.”
“Thanks,” Connor said as they backed out of the parking lot and got back on the road.
For a moment Hayden busied himself opening his drink and chips, then asked “Who’s Tupac?”
Connor was taken a bit by surprise. He hadn’t heard that name is a while. “What?”
Through his chewing Hayden said, “There was this magazine eDisplay that said that someone had seen Tupac. They had this picture of this old bald black guy at astation trying to gas up his vehicle. Like it was important or something.”
Connor couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously?” He laughed out loud again. “Wow. They were saying that when I was kid too.”
“Yeah, but who was he?”
“You’ve never heard him? I guess it has been a while. Hold on,” he said and called up the iNet Music Library on his dash to find a song. The library began listing song titles and he stopped it at one. ‘Changes’. “There we go. That’s a good one. That's Tupac." The song started up and ran for about a minute before Hayden spoke up.
“That’s just old rap, dad. So what’s he doing at a gas station and why would they put that on a magazine?”
Connor faked being hurt. “Hey!! You shut up!,” he said laughing. “That’s some good music right there.” It was funny.
“Whatever,” Hayden said, but he was laughing too.
“So Tupac was killed back a long time ago. Think it was in the 80’s or 90’s or something. Probably 90’s now that I think about it. A gang war I think. My dad mentioned something about it. Rappers from the New York ambushed him or something like that. You know Po Diddly, right?”
“That super old guy in that Old Navy commercial where he’s wearing silk pajamas and lives with all those girls?”
“Yeah, he used to be a rapper. Think he called himself P. Diddy or Puffy or something. He was in on it too I think. Anyway, Tupac died, but then kept coming out with new albums. Like he had recorded a billion songs before his death or something. Kind of became of joke. But some people started saying he had never died and was in hiding. Like Elvis.”
“Who’s Elvis?”
“Are you kidding me?” he said, chuckling. “You’ve never heard of Elvis?”
Hayden took a swig from his bottle and then said, “Nope. But I bet he’s old if you know about him, ” he said before giving him a wide smile.
Connor laughed. “You watch it boy. I’mma havta beatcha when we gets home,” he said in an exaggerated accent. Then he thought of his dad. “Your grandpa would be rolling in his grave to hear you talk. Would tell me I have neglected your education. Never mind. Just funny that people are still saying he’s alive. Makes you wonder if he’s got another new album coming out this year.”
The windows were down and it was a hot day, being the middle of summer. For a while, the song played, the music competing with the sound of the air. Connor was content to let Hayden take over the radio when the song ended and choose what he wanted. Some of it was ok. But some of it…he just didn’t get it. Stanislov? Russian prog-metal just wasn’t his thing at all. But at least it wasn’t Nickelback. Still touring and putting out music in their 70’s- and they still sucked after all these years. At least Foo Fighters were out there, though, still doing good stuff. The truck started climbing as they entered the passes and it got a little chilly, so he rolled up the windows. “So what do you want to do tomorrow? Go out for breakfast?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe that Mexican place? Love some Huevos Rancheros. I’d like to go swimming with Brad and Soren…and maybe we’ll invite some others,” he said nonchalantly.
“Ok.” Connor felt like teasing a bit. “You gonna ask Rachel to go too?,” he said innocently.
Hayden looked at him with an embarrassed smile. “What? I don’t like her.”
“Uh huh. Ok.” He’d seen the way he acted around her. He knew what that looked like. He stopped teasing. “It’s ok if you don’t like her. But I’m just saying that if you do, that’s ok too. It’s normal.”
Hayden was quiet for a while. He put a movie on the dash, some action film starring Jaden Smith he’d seen a thousand times. Like Independence Day had needed to be remade. Connor’s mind drifted and he just followed the road. The mountains were beautiful. After a while, Hayden turned the volume down a bit.
“Dad?”
“What’s up bud?,” he said absent-mindedly.
“So….if you do like a girl, how should you talk to her?”
Connor smiled. Just another reminder his boy was growing up. It felt bittersweet. He was excited to see the person Hayden was becoming. He could even envision the day when Hayden was less of a son and more of a brother, a good friend. The thought warmed his heart. It had begun. “Well….girls are like guys mostly. In some ways. So you have to remember that. Treat her like you’d want to be treated. You know, the Golden Rule.”
Hayden thought about that for a bit. “Ok…but they’re not just like us. They like stuff I don’t care about. Or they get upset about the weirdest things.”
“That’s true. So you have to take that into account. Remember how to be a friend?”
Hayden remembered and repeated back to him, “Be really interested in other people. Show them respect. Treat them with dignity.”
“It’s the same thing. You don’t have to like everything they do, any more than you do with Brad, right? He loves football and basketball and you don’t. Are you still friends?”
“Yeah.” He thought for a moment. “Ok, I get it.”
“Just remember the difference between being a nice guy and being a good guy. A nice guy worries too much whether other people like him. He ends up letting people walk on him. You know people like that?”
“Yeah. Lavon always lets the guys at school tease him and he just laughs nervously. He’s afraid they won’t let him hang out with them.”
“Exactly. But they don’t really like him because he does that, do they?” He took a drink of water. “A good guy wants to be liked too. We all do. It’s natural.” He paused to let this sink in. “But he wants to like himself too. So he doesn’t let people treat him bad. That’s the same with boys and girls.” It had been a hard lesson to learn. But it was one of the most important. Dignity. “Just don’t let yourself be treated badly, bud. Don’t be a doormat to anyone, even a girl you like. And if people try it, you can kindly but firmly let them know it’s unacceptable. If they don’t stop, you don’t need them.” He looked at Hayden and said with all sincerity, “You’re better than that.”
“Ok dad.” Then Hayden turned the movie back up. Maybe he got it and maybe he hadn’t yet. But Connor would make sure to repeat the lesson. Self-respect was important. Following your principles and not deviating from them, even when others might not like you for it, was the path of a good man or woman.
*
Connor watched his son grow into a good and decent man. He had good friends, always moving easily among different groups of people, but always staying to true to himself. Eventually he graduated from High School and began studying architectural engineering. All those years building with Legos or popsicle sticks had made his choice of careers pretty easy. When Hayden was 19, he was attending UNM, loving his classes, and had even found a girl that he really liked and liked him in return. There was no hurry. Connor had made sure that Hayden knew to take the time to really figure out what he wanted in life, to be patient. That if he was careful and ruled his heart, he’d be ok for the long haul.
*
But this time, Connor was wrong. Time was not on their side at all. During the summer of 2042, Hayden had been rock-climbing when he had an accident and fell 40 feet. He was taken to the hospital but miraculously, he wasn’t injured. Connor and Jaime had driven down before the doctor had cleared him and decided to stay a while longer. But just a few days later, Hayden began to complain of head pain and fever. At first, Connor and Jaime thought it was just a head cold and Jaime began to take care of him at home.
But he got worse. Jaime, who by this time as a nurse had seen many cases of the now rapidly spreading “sickness”, became worried. Worried because she knew the course this thing could take. But worried also because she had heard of rumors regarding patients with the sickness: of the CDC, under the influence of WHO, requiring that medical care givers report not just the victims themselves, but their family as well; of patients taken by the CDC and never seen again; of too family members disappearing or coincidently getting into accidents. So far, they were just rumors, but Jaime had seen enough. She was seriously concerned and confided those concerns to Connor. They didn’t take Hayden to the hospital.
Hayden got worse and seemed in agony. Jaime researched anything she could find to help. But Connor felt powerless. He was just a computer guy. He didn’t know medicine, apart from what biology he’d learned in school. He couldn’t do anything for his son. Jaime had to do it. Hayden cried and writhed in pain and Connor prayed and prayed and held his hand. When Hayden slept, Connor looked at him, remembered that day so long ago, when Hayden had lain in the NICU. Remembered his promise.
“Oh my son. Hayden. My beautiful son. Please, please…..,” he repeated over and over again, eyes closed, brows knitted together. He knelt over his son, head bowed on his bed, tears soaking the sheets. “Oh God. Father. Abba! Please.” He breathed in deeply, let it out slowly, putting his soul into his words. “Please Father, please, help him. Help my son. Help my son, please Father, please.” Over and over again, he prayed and pleaded.
At one point, Hayden woke, delirious. “Mom? Dad?”
“I’m here bud. I’m here. Your mom is too.” He felt some relief that he could talk to his son. “We’re here. Hayden. We love you so much.” Jaime was next to him, holding Hayden’s other hand. Tears streamed down her face. She had found that her fears were all too well founded. A trip to the hospital would kill Hayden.
Hayden’s head was burning up, but he stayed awake for a bit. “I hurt. It hurts…it burns.” His pain through gritted teeth made him stop.
“It’s ok, Hayden. We’re here my son,” said Jaime. She looked haggard, bags under her eyes. Her son, the child of her body, was suffering and she could do nothing either.
Connor and Jaime stayed with their son, through the screams, through the wrestless sleep, through the cries and struggle. At times Hayden was more lucid, and at times he was delirious. And Connor and Jaime tried to comfort him as best they could, praying and pleading. Jaime administered pain killers and sedatives, to stop the pain or to help him find some peace in sleep. She gave him nutrients and plenty of water in the hopes of his fever breaking. Connor read to him, the Bible, his favorite books, anything he thought Hayden might like. And while Hayden seemed to suffer less, he didn’t get any better.
Hayden died two days later, having squeezed his parent’s hands one final time. Connor died too that day, in his heart. Dead, he thought numbly. My little boy is dead. He remembered all their times together, remembered Hayden running and playing and reading and watching TV. He remembered driving and seeing his son in the passenger seat, just sitting there listening to music or talking. He remembered when Hayden was little and he sat on his father’s legs to watch TV when Connor took a nap on the couch. He remembered holding his son in his arms, so tiny, so helpless. He looked at this tall young mad, sprawled in the bed, body lifeless, and just broke down and cried. He cried everything. He cried and held his son. Jaime cried and cried, going through her own personal hell.
Connor broke that day. He was done. He didn’t know what else to do with life. He spiraled into heavy drinking, trying to lose himself in the haze of alcohol. He didn’t care anymore about anything. Friends and family tried to comfort him, tried to help him. But he didn’t want help. He wanted his boy. He wanted to die.
And then, sitting in a bar, Connor overheard a conversation between two men. It was about the sickness. It was spreading. But the conversation took a darker turn, as the men talked about what they had heard regarding the rumors of disappearing patients and their families, the very things Jaime had talked about. Connor called her and asked her about what she knew. It wasn’t much, except that it was happening. WHO and maybe others were targeting people with the sickness. It made him angry. If Hayden had been able to go to the hospital, maybe something could have been done. Instead, he’d only had them and it wasn’t enough. Jaime told him, though, that in Moscow, Central Dominance, the sickness was being researched. The Ascendency had set up some kind of facility and had staffed it with the best scientists and equipment.
Connor felt a fire in his heart, a purpose, born of anger. He needed answers. He needed to know what had happened to his son, why he had died. Why he had not been able to go to the hospital. He was going to get answers.
He sold everything he had of value, cashed out the little 401k that he had, contacted his aunt Ivana Delov who lived in Moscow, and arranged to stay with her. He’d find work to support him eventually.
More importantly, he would find answers.
Continued is....Combing the Grid
Edited by Connor Kent, Jun 20 2014, 08:24 AM.
Re: Connor Kent - Connor Kent - 03-21-2014
Ascendency very kindly allowed me to delve into the realm of myth-making when creating the back story for my character of Connor (and his earlier life as Priam). But because the myth is set in the Wheel of Time universe, we are perhaps prone to interpret specific elements in it as direct references to the events of the novels in the 3rd age. This perception, in turn, might cause some trouble with the Jordan estate. So while allowing me to include the myth in the story, Ascendency suggested a follow up footnote post to the biography to explain the non-wheel of time mythological elements, in the hopes that any problems might be avoided.
Most clearly, the story is merger of two different (though related) mythological traditions, Greek and Proto-Indo-European. The Greek Gaia and Uranus, Earth and Sky, were, in many myths, the first to exist and became the parents of the Titans. (Cronos, one of those Titans, castrates Uranus with a sickle and the Titans rule- with Cronos being paranoid about the same thing happening with his own children, setting up the next cycle of stories .) Those were elements I retained in my myth, including the injury of Sky.
While the use of Dragon might seem an overt reference to the books, in actual fact the Greeks already had a tradition about it. In particular, the story of Jason and the Golden fleece tells of how Jason got the golden fleece that was guarded by a serpent or dragon. Later, he uses a bag of dragon’s teeth. When he plants them in the ground, an army of soldiers came up. It was from this myth that Robert Jordan made this reference to the Aiel. “And when the blood was sprinkled on ground where nothing could grow, the Children of the Dragon did spring up, the People of the Dragon, armed to dance with death. And he did call them forth from the wasted land, and they did shake the world with battle.
”
Ydra is just a transliteration of the Greek Hydra, the killing of which appears in the Labors of Hercules. Every time one of the heads was cut off, 2 more grew up in its place. But when Hercules’ half-brother burned the severed necks, the heads stopped being regrown.
But the Greek language (and many Greek sayings and myths) are part of a larger and older tradition, Proto-Indo-European (PIE). While we cannot be dogmatic, the general consensus is that the people of the PIE language and culture came out of the Caucus region near the Caspian Sea anywhere from 7000 to 3500 BC. It was they who domesticated the horse and invented the wheel and wagon (or at the least, were early adopters of those technologies.) This allowed them to take advantage of the vast steppes that stretched across parts of Europe and Asia. Using horses and wagons to carry supplies, they spread east and west, north and south- eventually going as far as the British Isles, Sweden, Russia, India, Iran, Turkey, and Europe as a whole. Persian, Greek, Latin, Hindi, German, and Russian are all descendent languages of PIE.
These peoples not only spread their language, but also their mythology. Since Early-Greek only dates from about 1200BC and my myth predated that (since it's a myth in the 6th age), I wanted to include a few PIE mythological elements. One of the most widespread PIE myth has to do with the slaying of a dragon, or serpent. That very phrase has come down to us from the mists of time and can be reconstructed in its earliest form the PIE language. Jason and the Dragon, Hercules and the Hydra, and scores of other myths from other PIE cultures all descend from that one. (It's also reflected in Akkadian and Semetic literature as well, which indicates that it predates PIE...an opinion I hold.)
Another early PIE myth had to do with 2 twins Manu and Yemos. When Yemos dies, Manu uses his brother’s body to create the world and people. This element appears among the Hindus with the death of Purusha. From the different parts of his body (his brow, his arms, etc) come the different castes of Hindu society. It appears in Germanic myth, where Odin uses Ymir’s dismembered body to create the world. It is reflected in the ur-creation story story of Romulus and Remus, who is killed (some say dismembered by the senate) at the founding of Rome. Interestingly, this element even appears among the linguistically unrelated Chinese speaking peoples. A chaos egg forms, which then cracks open and Pan-ku comes out. He is clothed in bearskin. After his death, his body parts become the elements of the world, while body fleas become mankind. This all obviously became the story of Iasan/Jason (which in my mind had originally been Iaman, “Aman” being the Old Tongue for the Dragon- definitely too overt!) and his death and the subsequent formation of the races of men.
The PIE peoples also had numerous gods, one of which, to the best of our linguistic reconstruction, was called Perkwunos, the Striker or Thunderer who made it rain. Since Perrin wielded a hammer and seemed to be the lord protector of the people, it is easy to associate the two. And that was both intentional and unavoidable, since Jordan based Perrin on many of those traditions, including his name (ie, Perun). The PIE didn’t have appear to have a fate god who doled out life and its challenges. The Greek tradition of the Morai actually accurately represents the earlier PIE tradition regarding the fates. However, for symmetrical (and an actual Wheel of Time reference) I gave Perkwunos a twin, Kmir, to be the god of fate- he holds some dice as a way to insert randomness into people's lives...and as a WOT reference ;-).
Though not primary sources, Wikipedia has some good summaries on all this.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proto-Indo-European_religion
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proto-Indo-Europeans
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proto-Indo-European_language
I also wrote a blog post last year on how languages like PIE are reconstructed, in case anyone wanted more information:
http://ianohlander.blogspot.com/2013/03/resurrecting-dead-language-part-1.html
Re: Connor Kent - Connor Kent - 06-01-2014
In Combing the Grid Connor accidently stumbled on to an encounter with Aria, Giovanni, and Jensen against an Ijiraq. After the creature was defeated, Connor accompanied them back to Jensen's loft where he finally got the answers that he was seeking. During that night and early morning, Connor found the peace and forgiveness he had so desperately sought.
Later, in The Divine Truth, as his time in Moscow comes to a close, Connor meets two strangers, Tehya and Elias, in a subway station, where a terrible but mundane threat presages an unearthly one. Also, Connor strikes up a deep and abiding friendship with Elias.
Connor decides to stay in Moscow and gets a job and an apartment. One fateful morning, Connor discovers that his heart is not dead, as a chance encounter moving a box for a fiery red-head leads to one of the most emotionally intense and passionate encounters in his life. Suddenly, a mysterious and amazing woman holds his heart in her hands.
In Taking Out the Trash a call from Jensen leads to Connor joining him in trying to rescue some children kidnapped into sex slavery. But that night comes with a price
The repercussions from that night only get worse as Connor learns there is a Fine Line when you fall in love with an assassin.
Emotionally distraught, Connor decides to find out if fighting will make him feel better when he joins Gracie's Gym. Eventually sense is knocked into his head.
Connor makes a Connection with Calvin, a man who is on a path he once trod.
After work sends him to the home of a recently deceased fellow employee, Connor discovers a dangerous list to have. It becomes a challenge as Connor discovers that Aria had nearly taken The best of him.
With the list burning in his pocket, Connor discovers that he is not the only one Seeking to find out more about the Atharim. But unknown to him and Michael Vellas, Regus is also seeking those who would seek them out.
Ayden is plagued with nightmares seemingly related to her change in vocation. Together Connor and she try to find out the meaning of her dreams and Connor comes to a decision.
To celebrate their decision, Connor and Ayden take a trip to Moscow. It's a time for Days Like These where Connor says goodbye to his old life and begins his new one. But unknown to them, an Atharim, intent on killing a god, has followed them.
Edited by Connor Kent, Aug 27 2014, 04:10 PM.