Halloween and Other Seasons

III

He is right; I am his Muse. I was brought here from my home planet and, like many of my fellow beings, I contracted myself to an artist. The artists on this world are little more than machines. These creatures have somehow lost the ability to transfer their feelings and experiences. It is as if their fingers have somehow been disconnected from their souls. They seem the most selfish of beings: they possess emotions, but those emotions are land-locked. Each being of this world is an island, a world unto himself, and it is nearly impossible for one of them to even touch another. The only social contact they effect takes place on a formal, businesslike plane; even their meeting places are cheerless, murky and cold. But though these people are alienated they are not dead; each lone mind craves nourishment and pleasure. That is where we, the so-called Muses, come in. We supply the machine-like artisans to which we are contracted with transmutable creative energy for their work. In return we are supported by the writers. There are Muses contracted to painters, writers, sculptors, as well as musicians and other artists. Our contracts range from one to twenty years and can be renewed.

On my home planet things are very bad—there is severe overpopulation and the governments are harsh and restrictive. If I had not become a Muse I would have been judged unnecessary and eventually eliminated. There is a trade pact between this world and my own and Muses are valuable commodities.

Something in me, of me, is being tapped, siphoned out by the cables and utilized. My emotions are being sucked dry, for a price. I have thought of running away but I have seen the crucifixion poles jutting through the yellow fog. I’ve seen what is done to Muses who run away. If anything, the governments of this world are even more ruthless than those on my home planet. If I did escape, where would I run to? There is, in fact, no escape.

There is much pain within me, but at least I am alive and can express myself, unlike the lonely monsters of this world.

Unlike Bates.