From: mar@physics.su.OZ.AU (David Mar)
Subject: lonely
Organization: School of Physics, University of Sydney, Australia
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1992 05:18:46 GMT

Danger Mouse wanders over to the bar. Mike has a tall glass of freshly
squeezed orange juice ready for him.

"Thanks, Mike." He hardly glances at the big Irishman as he takes the glass
and sips from it with a vacant expression.

Mike gives DM a quizzical look, then puts down the glass he is holding and
lets his polishing rag rest on the bartop. In some indefinable sense the
rest of the Place fades, until it is no more than the background murmur of
traffic in the far distance. The light in the Place takes on an orange glow
as the last rays of the setting sun pierce the windows and throw weird
shadows on the opposite wall.

Two of the shadows move: one puts a glass to its lips, the other leans
carefully with one elbow on the bar, attentive.

DM looks around, seeing the changes for the first time. He frowns as he
scans the room with a flick of his head, then turns quickly back to Mike.

"Place is empty, Mike! What's happened? Where are we?"

"Nothing's happened, DM. Change of perspective, that's all."

"But..." a chill runs through DM's voice, "there's nobody here. It feels
so... so... _lonely_."

"Look a little deeper, a little more carefully."

With a dubious expression, DM turns back to the room. He looks carefully,
trying to find what it is that Mike can see. The faint red glow of a dying
ember in the fireplace catches his eye. It flickers briefly, then collapses
into blackness.

A vague, insubstantial shape forms in the air. No - it was there all along,
just difficult to see. It moves slowly, as though wading through molasses.
Its arms extend, outwards, moving to embrace... nothing.

The shape vanishes as a warm breeze blows the gossamer curtains at the
window, causing them to billow inwards. The fine white material extends in
a long tendril to where a lone candle burns. The flame feels the touch of
the breeze, bows fitfully, then rises again, full of animation, full of
life... and is extinguished.

The dying gasp of smoke from the candle wick floats through the room,
taking on a form of its own. A ghostly figure coalesces. It stares sadly
out of the window, looking at the blood red sunset.

DM blinks and the figure is gone. The smoke is still there, in the same
shape, but somehow not the same. It spreads and dissipates. Watching the
room, DM speaks quietly over his shoulder to Mike.

"This is horrible, Mike. It feels so sad. It's as if there is a whole lot
of love here, but with nowhere to go. Nobody who will accept it. That's
not what Callahan's is all about, Mike! Where _are_ we?"

Mike doesn't move. He simply says, in a soft voice, "Look."

DM looks, peering intently at the empty room. Familiar shapes begin to
appear. Fast Eddie at the piano. Didi and Galdrin over in a corner. Grant
and Cameron. Kateri. StM. Windsinger. kitten, bouncing around and hugging
everyone. brumby and Telsor, punning away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, DM takes his glass and wanders out into the
room. "You had me worried for a minute there, Mike." He finds an empty
chair and sits in it, ready to soak up the normal atmosphere of the Place.

Alfvaen walks up. "Hi, Alfvaen," says DM, "How's it going? Hey, what are
you... Don't sit on my lap!!!"

DM stands up to protest, and Alfvaen calmly sits on the chair _through_
him. Spinning around, a crazed look on his face, DM faces an oblivious
Alfvaen. He looks down, to where their legs are intersecting at the knee.

"Whaaah!" DM jumps backwards in shock... and lands _inside_ the Mandelbear.
"Yaaaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!" DM jumps again and sprints back to the bar, where
Mike is looking on. "What the hell is going on, Mike?!"

"Excuse me a minute, DM," answers Mike. He turns and pours a drink, handing
it to Sundog before facing DM again.

Meanwhile, DM has regained his breath and is watching the goings on in the
bar. He steps up close to Nicki and waves a hand in front of her eyes. She
continues talking to Ignatz without interruption. He bends over and says
"Hello" loudly into the Space Cadet's ear, to no effect.

"Mike," DM turns back to the bartender, "I think this is even worse than
before. I can see them and hear them, but they can't see me. Mike, you have
to _do_ something! I can't _reach_ them! Mike, listen to me! _I_can't_touch_
_them_!!"

Mike gives DM a severe look. "Now, where do you get an idea like that? You
don't think you can touch these people here? You don't think you can make
some sort of difference in their lives?"

"Mike, I don't like this. You're operating on two different levels here."

"Yes, but then, so are you."

DM takes a long breath, exhaling it slowly. "We're still not in the real
Place, are we?"

"No."

"Where are we, Mike?"

"Where does it feel like, DM?"

"I don't know, Mike! It's desolate! It's lonely! It's... it's... damn it,
it's frustrating!" DM spins around and sweeps an arm at the phantoms in the
room. "None of them are really here. But this place feels like it needs
them. There's so much... depth here. So much warmth. Fun, even." His voice
trails off as he slowly gets a better feel for the true impressions which
permeate the room.

"Mike, this is so awful. This isn't a bad place. There are lots of good
feelings here. Happiness. Love. Thoughtfulness. Just nothing to use it on.
Nothing to nurture it, help it grow. It's languishing, Mike.

"Bits have been used, and sometimes they're not appreciated. It's wondering
if it's really worth the effort any more. Nobody seems to care about it. It
tries to make people happy, cheer them up in times of need, and sometimes
it gets snapped at. It wonders if it's ever worth bothering trying to make
people feel better. It does its best, really it does."

DM shakes his head sadly. He looks up at Mike, tears dripping slowly from
his eyes. "Why, Mike? Why did you have to bring me here?"

Mike looks DM straight in the eyes. "Why do you think I brought you here?"

DM steels himself with another deep breath of air. "You'd make a good
psychoanalyst, you know." Mike does not comment as DM inhales and turns to
face the room. It is once again empty.

"All right you... you room! Listen to me! You have a lot of good things to
offer! I can feel them! And I, for one, am grateful for them! I'm sure
you've received thanks many times for the things you've tried to do. You
must have - people aren't that insensitive! Now pick yourself up, kick
yourself into shape and stop bloody well feeling sorry for yourself! Your
love will last. That's something which never diminishes - we all have an
endless supply of it. Keep it handy, because one day you'll find that you
have an excellent use for it. And don't be afraid to give freely of it in
the meantime! There are a lot of people out there who can use some. And if
you don't always receive tangible thanks, just realise that it's still
appreciated. Some people simply have trouble saying thanks. Doesn't mean
they aren't grateful. Give freely of yourself, always.

"Go ahead, try to cheer people up if they are feeling down. You have
nothing to lose, and the feeling of having helped someone to gain. Don't
take people to heart if they snap at you. Anyone can have a bad day. Maybe
they'll apologise after they're feeling better. Even if they don't, you
should know that it's okay. After all, you tried to help. What more could
you want?

"Be nice to people. After all, sometimes people are nice back, and that
makes it all worth while. Yes... all of it..."

DM turns back to Mike, tears once again running from his eyes. "I don't
know where we are, Mike, but can we go now, please? It's altogether too
lonely here for me..."

"Sure, DM." Mike hands DM a tissue to wipe his eyes, then picks up the
empty glass and begins polishing it again.

When DM puts the tissue down, the full sounds of the bar are once again
audible. He turns to see the familiar sight of the patrons enjoying
themselves. "Hey, DM!" calls kitten, "Where've you been? Come and get some
chocolate while it lasts!"

DM smiles and quickly crosses the room towards the chocolate and
marshmallow-fest going on near the hot-tub. He hardly notices Fast Eddie
heading back the other way.

***

Fast Eddie approaches the bar, looking curiously at Mike. "Say boss, you
an' DM disappeared for a few minutes back den. Where wuz ya?"

Mike swallows and stares past Fast Eddie with a concerned expression.
"We were inside DM."

- Danger Mouse.

ps. I wrote this in a strange mood. Don't take it to mean terribly much.
I've edited some of the stronger stuff out of it, since I almost never feel
quite that bad. I'm not altogether sure I should post this now, since I am
currently feeling a lot better than you might imagine by reading this. But
I like my own writing style (so sue me :-) ), and I wanted to share it.