Xian's Journal

[Xian]

I FELT A SHUDDER when I awoke, and for a while I was confused about where I was, and even who I was. As my mind began to calm, and the mists of confusion began to reveal rationality and logic, I reflexively brought my hand to my forehead to wipe some moisture there. I looked to see that there was some blood at the tips of my fingers, along my palm. The dream, still fresh in my mind, had caused me to have such a reflexive reaction such as this, and I wondered if it was indeed some omen.

I had long thought that, as a dead thing, as a vampire, I no longer had such reflexive biological reactions. Looks like there's more to a reflexive shudder than simple biology. And that, under some mental stress, vampires can sweat, only they sweat blood. Or at least I do. And it does seem that my musings on vampires being more alive than we, or anyone else, had first imagined.

Whether the dream was a vision or omen, and whether or not vampires are truly alive in another sense of the word, the dread I felt at the woman in blue's words clung to me for a long while. As soon as I could, I put down as much of the dream as I could remember, shaking off the weight of the dream while I wrote. Later, I plan to look it over and see if there was some detail that could give me a clue to what she meant was coming.

Now that I have calmed down, however, there is one simple theory I have about it. Something to help calm me further, and to help put aside my normal paranoia, at least for a while: The light was a dream version of the sun, my fear an instinctual reaction to it, even if I felt no pain in the dream. As something that I know can destroy me outright, something that even on an instinctual level I know to fear and avoid, the sun can cause such a reaction in me, and with the warped logic of the dream, with heightened emotions from it, the fear and dread clung to me even after I woke.

Of course there are a number of inconsistencies, but nothing that can't be reasoned out as simple dream logic. First was that the sun was rising in the dream as it was setting Second, I had no idea it was the sun in the dream, it didn't burn, and I wasn't afraid of the light. Lastly, the fear came more from the words the woman spoke than anything else in the dream.

Well, whatever it is, as the woman said, I will find out soon enough.

[Xian]

IT FELT GOOD to be whole again; I just felt like I woke fully healed this night, though I admit I don't really have a way to know for sure. My paranoid self has even been suggesting that maybe I can't heal fully, that I've lost something permanently. There has to be a limit to even vampiric healing, right? And that maybe my mind has adjusted itself to remember only that I had only ever been what I am now.

Ah, Paranoia. If I wasn't fully aware that I had a tendency for it, I'd probably be unable to function. As it is, I tend to be very careful about almost everything that I do. After all, I do realize that just because I know that I'm paranoid doesn't mean that every worrisome thought I have is false. In fact, given how fast my mind seems to work these days, I usually have a good reason to be, at the very least, concerned about a great many things.

One problem I have about verifying my well-being visually is the fact that I can't use a mirror. Vampires just don't reflect well on mirrors, just another part of the mystery of our beings. So it's not just a matter of taking a hand mirror and checking out if there was still any scarring on my scalp. As far as my fingers can tell, though, it does seem to have completely healed, and I can even feel that the bone has been restored.

I'll probably have to find or acquire a digital videocamera later on in the evening; apparently we still appear quite clearly on photographs and film, even on technology that makes use of mirrors to capture images. Again, another mystery. Anyway, the videocamera will help me verify visually that my head is as it was. Should help me keep my paranoia under control.

I know that I could probably ask someone to take a look at me. I hesitate doing that; I just feel uncomfortable asking any of these vampires I have just met to do something so... mundane for me. It, oddly, I know, seems to be such a personal thing. Odd because a few of them actually went out of their way to help me when I was first injured to begin with.

Still, it feels like something too intimate. And since I still don't understand the social dynamics of this vampire society I've found myself in, I really don't want to make some faux pas. It wouldn't just make me look bad, it would probably reflect poorly on both Charlotte and Keara. I don't think I could stand that, specially after everything they have both done for me.

Back when I was new in the gang, I was the new kid in the group. Though I really wasn't all that young back then. I looked younger than I was, and I was the newest member. I understood even then that there was a pecking order to things, though I had to learn much about the acceptable mores and codes of conduct. Jet helped me out a lot back then, just like Charlotte and Keara help me these nights.

My hesitation partly stems from the fact that, while I have observed these vampires to be quite social, they are also very independent. The gang often worked as a team in many things, and while we valued our independence, it seems like it's even more valued here. Vampires work together, I've noticed, and yet they have a great capacity to do things alone.

So, I'm trying to live up to that, to find the balance between asking for help and being overly dependent, and needing help and actually being independent. I'm sure I'll find it eventually, as long as I don't do or say anything that'll get me killed or something.

Not that I think any of them actually wish me harm, at least among Keara's bloodline - apparently, almost every vampire I've met so far is related to me through Keara - but I do listen a little to the paranoid little voice in my head. And try to just be as careful as I can be.

[Xian]

I AM EXACTLY AS I WAS. This was one of the major realizations I had when I finally was able to procure a video camera, in order to satisfy my paranoia about how I healed. I still insist to myself that I am not at all vain, and deny that I'm only checking to make sure I still look good. Until I recovered the few memories that I did, I hadn't even thought about that, and this is the honest truth.

Getting a video camera was easy enough; a quick walk through the city allowed to me find a late night pawnshop that had one at a fairly good price. Small enough to hold in the palm of my hand, with some basic features and good enough resolution for my purposes. The price was decent, if a little high for a second hand device. But I wasn't in the mood to haggle, nor was I in the mood to be out in the open for too long.

Yes, I'm still a little paranoid about another hunter attack. I do try not to look it, but I'm constantly on the look out for any aggression directed my way. All the better to avoid it; I still have no illusions that I can take even the least of them on, despite the fact that I'm carrying a pistol at the small of my back.

Anyway, I also picked up an old, but still useful laptop as well, just something I could use with the video camera. This time I managed to get a bag for it as well, the proprietor happy enough to throw it in. I thanked the man, and slipped in another fifty - I can be generous even in my paranoia - and headed out.

The next step was finding a place to set up. I still didn't want to risk Charlotte's place, so I decided on a seedy motel, one that looked vaguely familiar to me. I paid for a room, said I'd only be in a day, and added a day's worth for deposit, and to be left alone. The guy over the counter just nodded and handed me the keys to a third floor room.

As I was about to head up, though, and this seemed straight out of the movies I'd been watching, an old man sitting near the stairwell looked up at me and nodded. I had noticed him while I was paying for the room, but I'd decided he was no threat. Now I had to reassess: had he recognized me? Had I been here before?

Maybe the old man was just crazy, I thought, as he closed his eyes and seemed to nod off to sleep again. I'd missed a step or two because of the old man's nod, but I shook off the paranoia and turned to the stairs.

The room was simple enough, an old, semi-clean bed, a dresser that had seen better days, and faded and peeling wallpaper. Tiny bathroom, some mold in the tiles, mirror with a chip off the corner. Windows that led to the fire escape, one slightly ajar. Bars with a simple padlock, which explained the second small key in the key ring. Good enough. I wouldn't be staying here long anyway.

Setting up the laptop and the video camera didn't take too long; I'd long ago known I was gifted in electronics and computers, and I seemed to have carried the knack over. Admittedly, the laptop was a little bit unnecessary, but I wanted to have it available in case I needed it. So, video into the laptop, some basic recording software, fix camera, fix laptop, sit down and take a look at the back of my head.

It may seem like a lot of preparation for something so simple, and some part of me does agree. But another part of me likes having backup plans and options, and I had a feeling I might need some options tonight. That and I'd been cooped up for so long healing that I was allowing myself a little fun; it may seem odd, but this was something I did find fun. Sneaking around, finding tech, putting tech together for something I needed.

Fun.

Anyway, I finally got to see the back of my head, and I was happy to see that everything was as I remembered it, mostly. I parted my hair to check on the scarring, and was pleased to see there was actually very little, which would likely be gone in a few more nights. The scalp looked a little tight, but I figured even that would fix itself over time. Content, I found myself absently playing with my hair. I even chided myself for such an old habit I'd suddenly picked up again.

Then as I looked at the computer monitor again, my hair at the back of my head in the fingers of one hand, I realized that my hair had grown back fully, long, black and straight, with a short length of red at the tips.

I had to pause for a while as I examined my hair, and I even made sure that the hair I was touching was both real and really attached to the section of scalp that had to regrow. Yes, and yes. My hair had completely regrown itself, along with the flesh, bone and brains, apparently. Right down to the red tips.

The red tips that were left over from the last time that I had tried to color my hair. Red tips from hair dye.

Exactly. As. Before.

[Xian]

IT TOOK ME a while to make myself satisfied that I was not just seeing things, but I finally had to accept the facts in front of me. Or, in another way of looking at it, literally behind my head: my body restores itself back to how it appeared when I was turned into a vampire.

I traced the line of a slight scar on my eye, from the middle of it halfway down one cheek on one side, and up into my scalp on the other. I had been very lucky that the knife had kissed me so lightly; a little bit more pressure and my eye would have been part of the scarring. This was a remnant from when I was alive, and I would have it with me for... I don't even know how long we vampires exist.

Do we realy exist forever? That's something that sounds appealing, but at the same time it feels like a weight on my shoulders.

As strange as being a vampire that can heal his own brain injuries is, I found being able to restore hair dye was just a little bit stranger. Where would my body even get the chemicals to replicate the dye, or even change the color of my hair without it? I'm not exactly an expert of biology, though I guess red hair isn't exactly supernatural.

I considered having a strand of my hair tested to see if it was "natural" or if it was a form of dye. I wasn't sure what I would do with the information though, so it seemed a trivial idea. I shelved it, for now.

I took off my shirt to check on the wounds I had received before my head wound. My arm and shoulder showed some light scarring, as I expected. Though it did seem that there was a little less scarring tonight than there was yesterday. Perhaps not too odd.

I took videos of my scars, visual proof of how they looked tonight. I planned to do this over the next few nights to prove my hypothesis. I also started to think about other ways to prove or disprove it. Tattoos came to mind when I saw the circular one on my other shoulder. A small intricate Chinese dragon Ourobouros surrounding the Chinese character for my name.

I remembered I'd joked that these were our versions of dog tags; everybody in the gang had a gang name, and had a tattoo on their shoulder or forearm of their name with a version of the Ourobouros on it. Mine was written as Xian in a single Chinese character, that could be mistaken for two. It was a character used in Japanese as well, but it was said just a little bit differently and meant something a little bit different as well.

As Kaycee put it, Xian was cooler anyway. Though admittedly neither of us really pronounced it right.

A new tattoo, I made a mental note of it. And perhaps a different color of hair dye. I considered scarring myself, but I labeled that idea as one of my last options. Among those was intentionally breaking a bone, and then forcing it to set in a different way. A little too massochistic for my tastes. Maybe a body piercing of some sort.

I began to think about how this could affect me in the long run. What disadvantages would this byproduct of turning have? I would have to test myself to find out the limits and restrictions, while still avoiding grave injury to myself. I do believe I'm a little crazy, but not that kind of crazy.

I was a little disturbed, but also a little excited. Here was a question I could find some answers to, something I could test, measure, understand. There would be limits to my understanding of course, but at least it wouldn't just be speculation, at least not entirely.

I wondered if this was common among vampires. It was possible; I remembered one or two stories I had read where this was part of their so-called curse. Immortal youth, an appearance frozen from the time of death. I couldn't yet see the downside, but I'd figure something out.

It does seem apparent that vampires don't seem to age, at least not in the same way. Keara gave me the impression of having seen over a century, and yet I don't think age has touched her a single day. I have less of that impression with Charlotte, and some of the other vampires I've met though. Perhaps it works differently between vampires.

Admittedly, there is some appeal to never having to age a single day. I don't want to admit I'm completely vain, but I will admit I can see the advantages.

[Xian]

IF THERE IS a recurring theme to my journal entries so far, I believe it is the subject of memory, and how it affects who I am. It was very significant in the beginning when I could not remember who I was, and it remains significant now, when I do remember fragmented pieces of it.

I believe that every individual consciousness, human or vampire, is the product of its experiences, and that its memories are the repositories for these experiences. As we experience things, these change our consciousness in often subtle ways. And as we remember things differently, this changes us as well.

I said before that memories are ghosts; they are the past that haunts us, follows us through our days. They are intangible, invisible, and sometimes incomprehensible. But they shape us in ways that we may not even fully understand.

I have stated many concerns about memories, specially my own. Namely that I may lose them, and in so doing, lose myself. Also that they may change suddenly, and so change who I am. Or that someone may change them for me, thus having influence over me.

With little exception, humanity lives with this every day. They cannot claim to remember everything, every little detail, all the minutiae. For the most part, it is beyond their capabilities. They remember their pasts, and in so doing change it subtly, either improving or reducing the quality of the memories. They also listen to the words of others, which can also affect how they remember their lives, their own pasts.

And yet I am not quite able to easily accept this all. I do understand that even the vampiric mind will have its limitations, and I will admit that I do not personally need to remember the tiniest of details. But somehow I feel diminished at the thought that I am missing some of the experiences I have gone through because of it.

I know that I will always be affected by memories, my personality and preferences affected by what I can remember. But something in me struggles with the discomfort that there are things I may remember wrongly, and thus cause me to behave in a manner that I would not otherwise do.

And of course, I rage against the thought that anyone would have undue influence on me, and yet I recognize that I allow some others to have that power freely. I have great affection for my sire, for example. She has taught me much, made me what I am. I have also a great affection for her sire, who has shown me such affection as well.

There is a great amount of confusion in my attempt to make sense of it all, though also illumination. I understand some of my own secrets now, though this has also revealed other questions that seek answers. I know there will be more revelations; I look forward to them.

Anyway: the reason I have restated much of this, why I have put much of this into words, is I came upon yet another thing that confused and chilled me.

Most nights I spend exploring various computer systems linked to the world wide web, making use of my new vampiric abilities to do so even without a computer. Typically I scan these systems for secrets and stories. But, recently, I found several systems that had so-called video evidence of vampires, and, being a believer that we should not reveal ourselves, I took it as my duty to remove them.

Of course in order to determine which videos were significant, I had to scan through them. Or at least, that was my excuse. I will admit curiosity was part of what caused me to spend much of the night examining these videos, and then making them disappear as if they were never there.

For the most part, the videos were blurry, or taken from such a distance that the suspects weren't recognizable. The poor quality of them would likely cause people to think them as some sort of prank or other deception. I deleted them anyway, to be sure. There were those that would cause some concern, and I made sure those were completely scoured from the system. But even those videos, I could not recognize anyone.

But the last video I watched, revealed the hint of a face that I knew quite intimately. This vampire was caught by a security camera as a guard intercepted him in one room. At first he raised his hands in submission as the guard questioned him. But I watched as he mouthed some words, then smiled as he bared his fangs.

The guard jumped back, and drew his gun, but the vampire avoided all the shots easily. It was like he could see where each shot was going; I just knew that he could. Then he pulled his own weapon from beneath his black jacket, and shot the guard once, twice, a pause, then two more times.

He walked over to the body of the guard, and there, perfectly framed, the light from the corridor struck his face. As I watched with rising horror, he raised his gloved hand to push aside locks of shoulder-length black hair, with red tips.

[Xian]

I FROZE THE VIDEO and for the longest time, all I could do was stare at my own face. Of course, I wasn't actually watching it on a screen, though if I was, I imagine I would have been staring with a dumb look on my face, and my jaw open. I've seen that in the movies all the time, but perhaps all that actually showed on my face was a slight twitch to my eyebrows, a slight parting of my lips.

It was unmistakably me on the final video. By some stroke of fate, or luck, or some unseen guiding hand, the last video I had to check and remove contained my likeness, doing something I had absolutely no recollection of ever having done. Worse, it seemed like something I would never do: kill someone with a look of glee.

A barrage of thoughts filled my head. Perhaps this was an impostor, someone pretending to be me, to blackmail me. But the video had a time stamp of the second week after I was turned, I was nobody worth blackmailing then, and I still am nobody worth blackmailing now. Far as I know, nobody knew about me then anyway.

Perhaps it was just someone with my likeness, another vampire who looks just like me. Maybe a twin, turned at about the same time, perhaps even by another vampire. I doubted Charlotte would hide the existence of a twin, and the chances of that happening seemed astronomical, without the guiding hand of a higher power. A cosmic joke.

A joke. Maybe it was a joke. Something someone created, a false video made for me to find, to bring doubt and confusion into my mind. But again, why? Who would want to do something like this to me, when I was nobody and no one, when, as far as I knew, the only ones who considered me an enemy were the Hunters who plagued me weeks after the date of this incident?

Maybe I was mistaken, or that I was seeing something that wasn't really there? My mind was playing tricks on me, I told myself. So I watched the video again, and again, then finally downloaded it into the laptop I had nearby. I removed all trace of it in the system, backtracked to make sure my intrusion was undetectable, and watched it again in the real world. Still my face.

A final possibility, and one I could not accept: it really was me, doing something that didn't remember doing. My lips that smiled that dark smile, my fangs that bared. My hand that held the weapon that took that guard's life. Then fired a few more times just for the enjoyment of it. My face that looked down at my handiwork, as if to say "it is good."

I didn't know what to make of it, and I still don't. I will need to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

[Xian]

I NEEDED A BREAK. I couldn't spend the rest of the night just staring at my own face frozen on the screen of this laptop. No, I needed to clear my mind and just calm down. Maybe afterward, I'd come up with something, I told myself. A long walk sounded like a good idea, and sometimes I'd even come up with something out of the blue while I was thinking of anything else or nothing. I hear a lot of introverts and thinkers get that - a solution out of the blue while distracted with something else.

I vaguely remembered that the weather would be poor, so I checked the news reports. Light blizzard, some snow, some wind, some low temperatures. Just fine. I didn't think the cold could really hurt me anymore anyway, or at least it would take some really extreme cold. Nothing like tonight. It would be, at most, a bother. Though, mostly, I liked the cold even when I was alive.

Having decided that I would spend the rest of my night wandering the streets of Harper Rock, I made sure to change into warmer clothes. I was already wearing my heavy black denims and combat boots, so I just had to change my shirt and pull on a sweater. Helps to keep appearances, after all, even if the cold didn't hurt me. I made a mental note to do some laundry sometime as I put my old shirt away.

I remembered I had a new jacket as well, something that would fit just nicely. Large and black, with orange highlights. Not really much my style, but at least those would keep people from bumping into me, like with a large snowmobile. Though if a snowmobile ever mowed me down, that would probably be more my fault. Gloves would make the masquerade complete.

At this point, I remembered to take my pistol; I'd bought a holster that fit in the small of my back for it, and I used that one tonight. And as I secured it snugly, the image of myself drawing a handgun from that same place behind him flashed in my mind. He had used the same holster. Or perhaps that really had been me.

I turned to take a last look at the laptop, the image of my face still frozen on it. I shuddered a little, as I sat down in front of it, then turned off the video software. I encrypted the file quickly, just something basic that wouldn't give a hacker worth their salt any trouble. Then I renamed the file, and hid it in a program folder several folders deep. I made a mental note of where I put it, deleted the laptop's software logs, then shut the thing down.

Ready to go, I told myself, and I stepped out into the cold night.

If I still breathed, I would have taken a deep breath. I think I may have anyway. I enjoyed the kiss of the cold, the bite of the wind, the wetness of the snow hitting my face. I pulled over my hood, and hoped that nobody noticed that I wasn't actually breathing - one of the easy tells in this weather was that my breath didn't really mist much, except if I really put an effort to it. I put that thought and all my other concerns aside, and took one step, then another.

I let my mind and my feet wander for a long time before I realized that the wind had started to pick up. It was also colder, and I couldn't see as far as when I started because of the falling snow. As paused to take stock, and as if on cue, the wind swirled nearby, making some snow dance frenzied pirouettes in the air before me. I had to smile at that; odd what small pleasures I could have.

I decided to find some shelter, and get off the street. The weather report did say it wouldn't get really bad, so I didn't worry about finding some daylight shelter later on. And I had the tome my grand-sire Keara had gifted me as well. With a few more hours to kill before dawn, and the prospect of some warmth and company before then, I looked around for the nearest place I could get into.

The blue neon lights of The Lounge seemed to call to me through the haze of snow, and I made the easy enough choice right there. It was across the street, and it was then I realized that the snow was staring to really build up. I crossed with some care, though not because there were any cars in the street. I didn't want to slip and land on my face, for one.

I was a few steps away from the opposite sidewalk, when the world fell from beneath me.

[Xian]

I FIND IT AMAZING how things often change in the blink of an eye. It's true that the grandiose changes can typically take years, centuries, millennia to happen - what more if we change the scale to a more cosmic level - but even the tiniest, quickest changes can result in a large, visible, sweeping effects.

An often cited example: A butterfly flutters its wings in South America. It affects the air ever so subtly and pushes just a few molecules, that push into other molecules, and so on. Soon there is a low pressure area, and then a storm in the pacific, heading for the various islands of Asia. Crops are damaged, homes destroyed.

A more practical example: a driver looks at the wrong thing for a second. He misses seeing a man crossing the street. For the driver, things have changed in the time it took to look away. A related example: a man speaking on his cellphone tries to cross the street. Distracted by his conversation, he doesn't bother to look to see an incoming car. His life, the life of the driver, the life of everybody related to either, is now inexorably changed.

More complicated: a simultaneous error in weather detection systems leads to a winter storm being announced to be only half its true strength. While the error is identified, efforts to correct it become confused and paralyzed, as if an outside force is negating their efforts. People are caught unprepared by the onslaught of the wind, snow and hail.

A related example: a gross inability to predict the movements of the earth's crust, brought about by the combination of a lack of funding with a lack of interest in this phenomena. There is no warning when one of the largest earthquakes to hit the North American continent strikes. Nobody is prepared, everybody is caught off-guard.

Another related example: a minor celebrity fortune teller, one who has made it by sheer luck and charm, predicts one of the worst disasters in years. Unable to say where "a lady playing with a string instrument on top of a rock" is, he is not taken seriously. Just another general prediction that could apply anywhere. But he is correct.

A last example: A young vampire decides to take a walk on a beautiful, cold, windy evening. Placing complete trust in the weather services, with no idea about the natural forces at work beneath his feet, and having no knowledge of this minor seer, he leaves his safe haven. When winter storm hits, he is merely concerned. When the earthquake hits, he is stunned. When he sees the damage done to this city he has only recently began to call home, he is almost senseless.

I can only imagine how the rest of the city felt right then, after the tremors. My mind felt blank then, probably a knee-jerk reaction, shutting out the world. Though I think I can hear them crying out in my mind now. Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

I wonder just how far the causal relationships can be pushed? In the case of the example of the butterfly, the presenter seems to argue that causality can be pushed to great extremes, where mathematically the ratios would be extreme decimal point places. Various religious groups believe everything can be pushed back towards the so-called "un-caused cause" which some of them refer to as God.

I just want to know who I can blame for all this. Who can I point to and say, "You! This is your fault! Fix it!" And yet what kind of God would vent this destruction onto the world and then fix it just because someone like me said so. If any gods exist, that is, who would even care to listen. What if all this was the result of a careless, ignorant god, I wonder? Not even knowing the devastation it has rained down.

I am angry; it's such a human emotion, one that I can actually feel into the very depths of myself. But I have nobody to be angry at. Is it the fault of the human scientists who have yet to unlock the secrets of the earth and its movements within? Is it the fault of the meteorologists that failed to notice in time that their sensors were completely wrong? The fault of the technicians who maintained the sensors and computers and networks? The fault of some college hacker just pushing buttons after stumbling into some new system?

Is it my fault? Am I a butterfly who fluttered its wings? Or is this some god's righteous vengeance on the city of Harper Rock for harboring creatures such as we?

But I no longer believe we are the damned, that we are cursed. There has to be another explanation. There has to be someone else to blame.

[Xian]

AS A GENERAL RULE, I don't have a great love for humanity. This isn't even because I'm a vampire. Even when I was human myself, I wasn't exactly a saint. I mean, I wasn't a bad guy, I wasn't particularly cruel, or sadistic, not psychotic in the least. Pretty sure I even helped an old lady cross the street once or twice. But I didn't really bother or care for religion, and I was pretty flexible when it came to laws. Even when I joined my old gang, I don't think I was really a bad sort.

In fact, I think I was a pretty good guy, all things considered. I ranked loyalty highly, and I did love my family, as much as I did run away from them. (Perhaps I still do, though that's something I've really been avoiding thinking about lately) I even gave to the homeless now and then, even when I was on the run and money was hard. Even when I was a vampire, I would do the little things that wouldn't matter to anybody except to those you did it for.

But I don't see myself loving humanity, no. I don't see myself giving anything unconditionally to humanity as the mass of people it is. I don't see myself feeling great compassion for the totality, or even feeling happy about trying to do so. I don't love humanity. I don't love humanity. Humanity is sick, stupid, slow, arrogant, and quite unlovable.

However, I do think I love people. People as individuals, not as the faceless mass of idiocy and stupidity humanity can be. People can be loving, kind, caring, thinking creatures - and that I can love. People like the guitar player I used to watch on the corner. The nurse that lived a few floors up from where he played. The old man watching alone in his apartment a few doors down. The young man on the opposite street always coming home with a different girl. I think these people I love. At least, after a fashion.

I still wouldn't give my life up for them, I don't know who or what I'd do that for. But I do think about them, and have a sort of concern for them. And they were among the first I sought out when everything had settled down, when all the accusations and paranoia had dissipated, when things had returned to relative calm, amid the destruction of the city around us.

The first person I found was the guitar player. He'd stopped playing the street corner when the weather got bad; I figured it was more for the sake of the guitar, more than it was about his well-being. I'd long ago followed him to where he lived, and thankfully, strangely, his old apartment building was still quite intact. More cracks, some lost bricks, but it seemed to have been spared the worst of it. He was on the street when I found him, helping to clear out the debris. He had some cuts and bruises visible, but looked otherwise okay.

When I got to the nurse's apartment building, I saw that it had partially collapsed. She was outside, sitting on a suitcase, looking lost and exhausted, but otherwise unharmed. Given the state of the building, she was probably thinking it wasn't a good idea to stay the night here, but had no idea where she would go. Likely she was at work when the earthquake hit, and had only managed to go home tonight. No surprise, a lot of the emergency services had stayed long shifts I heard. I hoped she would find someplace to stay; perhaps at the hospital, though that would likely be quite crowded.

I didn't find the old man; his apartment seemed to be intact, but now it seemed abandoned. Perhaps he was safely elsewhere, with family, maybe. That would seem to be his happy ending out of all this. If he had family. I never saw anybody visit him. Or even call. I felt a slight tinge of worry, though I knew there was no benefit to it.

I found the young man later that night, as I was wandering the city. An excavation team working had caught my eye as they struggled through the cold temperatures and limited light. They worked with what tools were available, like many other teams around the city. And there he was, working alongside them, tired, dirty, injured like many others, but still helping out. More than just a skirt-chasing lecher, after all.

I don't love humanity. I don't even like it much. But people, I can like people, I can love them. As much as someone like me can love, I suppose.

[Xian]

IS IT STRANGE THAT, despite the fact that I know that the devastation has cost this city and its inhabitants much, I still find it oddly beautiful? I think it is strange; some part of me realizes that it is, and thinks that I am at least a little bit crazy for even thinking it. While another part of me is sure that I am crazy for there being several parts of me thinking different things at the same time.

Different parts of me. Strangely, this strange metaphor may be more true than I first realized. But I digress. I'll leave that thought for another time.

I stood tonight at the highest point I could dare, and just looked out over it all. I watched the flickering lights in the darkness, the shadows all over the city, the lack of neon and fluorescence. I looked over the broken city, and had I still breath, it would have been taken away.

There was a still, silent beauty amid the damage that the city had endured. There was a light snow falling around me, and everything was covered in powdery whiteness. Around me, beneath me, wherever lances of light passed there was a blanket, a smear, a pillow of snow. It gave an odd solemnity to it all, an elegant grace.

Around me, beneath me, the buildings were asleep and dreaming, embraced by shadow and whiteness, eyes closed to the world. Some leaned upon their neighbor for support, their burden shared. Others seemed to merely cling to the one beside them, desperate for aid that the other cannot lend. Others lay back and surrendered to the earth.

Among them stood a few that were taller than the others, some that still loomed majestic. Cracks and damage visible during the day were made invisible by darkness and shadow, lending the illusion of strength and power. They stood sentinel over their kin, some stoic, some fearsome, others kindly, guarding over them as they rested.

Around them flitted and danced many lights: human repair and salvage teams, excavation experts, fire fighters, police, ambulances and other emergency services were scattered all over the city. Still busy at work despite the hour, still pushing to clear damage and save who and what they could save. I was sure some were even working themselves to exhaustion, and perhaps some had not slept since the night before.

For a moment, I felt a desire to lend myself to their task. To lend my skills, my strength, perhaps my supernatural abilities. I considered it, then pushed it to the back of my mind. But I kept it there, and did not cast it aside completely.

Most of the city was still without power, which was a problem for most of the residents mainly because of the cold. Layered clothing and blankets were surely the norm, though I'm sure some would use portable generators and even car batteries to power some sort of device to help keep warm.

Despite what they have all suffered through, despite their personal losses and pain, the resilience, determination and persistence of these people still shine through. They do not succumb to despair, though I am sure tears have been shed, sorrow and anger has been expressed. I admire that about them, I admire their desire to stay and to survive, live and thrive. I admire the residents of this city. My city.

My city.

I was almost hesitant to use the phrase, though I believe I've used it before. My city. My home. I can't remember the exact moment when I realized that it was indeed "mine" or that, rather, I belonged to it. Despite the devastation, like many other residents, I cannot bring myself to leave this place.

Perhaps that is why I find the city beautiful still, despite its scars, despite its wounds. It is my city. Its people are rebuilding, its people are helping each other, its people are surviving. Perhaps it is more than just the aesthetics of falling snow, darkened shadows and blowing wind.

I think I do love this city. In my way. Isn't it love when you can see something so decrepit and damaged and broken and still find it beautiful?