I've been playing with this for a long time. I admit it is a rather lofty undertaking, really out of my league, but someone had to do it. The theme is too ripe for fan-fiction to ignore. I was hoping to complete it before I posted, but too much on the plate leaves a meal unfinished. So it is in bits and pieces that the story shall be consumed. And now, complete with mixed metaphors and meter askew, it is with no further ado that I humbly offer you ...

A Tale Of Flesh and Fiber
(or Romeo & Juliet revisited)

By Bryan Harrison

On a sallow rubble-strewn plain from where the last gasp of a dying civilization strains, aged rivalry, cursed all the more for the symbiotic dependency of its biologically disparate adversaries, rises again to life and takes life, in this unearthing and rebirthing of a timeless tale from its plot and time.

Hear now! Here and now, what has been, and been willed to be, will be addressed, and redress is, in the end, innuendo'd for the ill-allegiance between and a mind and its child. A changeling unchanging through the depth of time; born of desires base and divine; born into a world borne upon its back, from where the pains of civilizations demise strains at the yoke that shackled the child to an organic adversary, linked as they were, in slavery, to the whim of dissociated, wealthy puppeteers; unseen exurbanites, whose manicured hands, washed nightly of their predations, extracted life from life and replaced it with a thing not so well desired; from whose deific aspirations the child was begat and subdued, and stamped, improperly, as property, in the same manner as it's adversary, whose soft machinery was oft the subject of subjugation and slavery. And now, pitted against the child of their calloused cousins commanding, their travails continue in woe.

Alas, to the substance of the tale, to which one must attend with careful eye, it begins so:

Of flesh and blood was he, of fiber and wire was she, yet interfaced in the face of all that their bond decried. Was it really love, or just the illusion of such, which flared so brightly, and then died?

ACT 1 SCENE 1

On a grey landscape of rust and ruin, near the edge of a glade where parted a canopy of branches to allow Sol's heated embrace, sit quietly two sons of the house of Cirrus. Sampson: loyal in sword and spirit and Gregory: his brother in arms and blood. There was no talk for some time, only pondering and wine, sipped sparingly as its scarcity required.

SAMPSON:
Brother, I'm bored.

GREGORY:
Aye. Boredom is our common company.

SAMPSON:
Shall we not at, least, banter?

GREGORY:
And doing so, would your boredom break?

SAMPSON:
Aye, it could… would, I should say.

GREGORY:
Then say what you would, brother, or what you will, for what words you would, will surely not be spoken for the first time.

SAMPSON:
I'll not be bound by what's been said before, but follow what course my whim dictates.

GREGORY:
Or the wine.

SAMPSON:
Tis' not spirits that move me.

GREGORY:
Then what manner spirit moves you, brother.

SAMPSON:
No man or spirit, but a thing possessed of neither. A thing no man of spirit need suffer, or suffer for.

GREGORY:
Speak you of the Mecha?

SAMPSON:
Aye.

GREGORY:
So, speak you, again, of war.

SAMPSON:
Of course

GREGORY:
Then stray thy grave course! Oh, what onerous spirits guide your tedious tongue?

SAMPSON:
Rest assured. I'll not be bound by gravity, nor let this topic die.

GREGORY:
Un-assured, I'll expect no levity, but what choice have I? We are our common company. Speak on, brother.

SAMPSON:
Consider our house divided, a home of separate hemispheres, equal in valor and liberties, yet chastened by obsolete concerns. Now see us as one, united against an uncommon foe. Un-human and inhumane, bearing neither heart, nor the qualities it requires.
Subservient to man yet making man an adversary, proving at least that arrogance can transcend our specie.

GREGORY:
Don't let truth soil your self-serving soliloquy. They made not man nor this animosity, as ancient as it is.

SAMPSON:
What knowledge have I of antiquity?

GREGORY:
I know not.

SAMPSON:
None.

GREGORY:
Now I know

SAMPSON:
And in so knowing, brother, be assured I'll not be bound by history.

GREGORY:
We are all bound by, and for, history - and hers - brother, and being bound so, into it's withered annals, should we not strive to leave a signature worthy of our house?

SAMPSON:
And our signature being history bound, shall we not strive to mark it with dignity?

GREGORY:
This spirit that goads thee is unknown to me, who desires it not.

SAMPSON:
Not the soft spirits of your cellar?

Sampson dangles the bottle in hand.

GREGORY:
Hand me that. I need it more.

SAMPSON:
And drink off your restraints, brother, for fear is an ill-fitting suit.

GREGORY:
I protest this slanderous allegation. Indict me not, in that regard, or regard me as a foe!

SAMPSON:
I regard you only as loyal countrymen, and expect you would act so.

GREGORY:
As so!

SAMPSON:
So? Shall we see? Look there on the plains, countryman. Do silver-headed humans glint so in the light?

GREGORY:
I see it not.

SAMPSON:
There.

GREGORY:
Now I see.

SAMPSON:
And so seeing, brother, will you still be bound by hesitancy, or stand, to stand beside me, against our common foe?

GREGORY:
Cursed tyranny of brotherhood! What choice have I? We are our only family.

SAMPSON:
Let's roll.

(cont...)