Categories > Celebrities > Beatles > Xanadu
Author's Notes: It's an Australian country cottage, with a garden to suit an Australian climate. What else can you expect from an Australian?
On the outside, Gardener's Cottage looked like an ordinary cottage. It was larger than the average English cottage, and was surrounded by a broad, sweeping veranda. Paul quickly realised that its influence came not from the neat cottage gardens of England, but from a much warmer climate. Unlike the English cottage, it not only had the veranda, but also large picture windows that could open wide to allow the evening breeze inside. It was constructed to withstand a hot summer sun, rather than deep drifts of winter snow.
On the inside, all resemblance to English cottages vanished. All available wall space was taken up by bookcases, and Paul knew it would take him several lifetimes to read his way through them all. He wondered how Gardener had managed to collect them all.
"I inherited most of them," she explained conversationally, as if reading his mind. "My grandmother read a great deal, and could never bring herself to get rid of the books she owned."
She walked to a door almost concealed by the book cases. "Come through here. I'll show you where you will sleep."
Paul followed her through into a surprisingly wide corridor. Surprisingly, because the corridor was, like the room they had just been in, lined with bookshelves. "How many books do you have?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. The number tends to change a little, and the earlier ones aren't entirely legible anymore. I collect books and plants the way that Mistress collects men. Once I lose interest in a subject, the books which contain the knowledge start to fade."
A door appeared, apparently from nowhere, and Gardener lead him through it into a large bedroom. The centrepiece of the room was an enormous double bed, and Paul knew that he could get happily lost in its depths with any number of female fans for days at a time. Off to one side was a dressing table, which was flanked on each side by a door. One lead to a large walk in wardrobe, while the other lead to a small bathroom.
The room was neutral in tone, as if it waited to be stamped with a personality. There weren't any decorations, and the eiderdown was beige and featureless. "It'll change," Gardener told him. "As it gets used to your personality, the room will alter as a reflection of that."
Paul started to ask "How long will that take?", but trailed off as he saw the eiderdown start to darken, and paintings start to appear on the wall. Startlingly beautiful beetles appeared on the eiderdown, and a portrait of the group materialised on the wall opposite the dressing table. He glanced at Gardener, and saw her frowning.
She sighed. "It'll change as you change," she told him. "Come and I'll show you the rest of the place."
Up until that moment, Paul had felt almost normal. He missed his friends, and the house had been strange, but it had all looked normal. It still didn't look as though a hole could appear in reality and produce tentacles, but the sight of the eiderdown becoming patterned before his eyes was a sign that they were still nowhere near normal.
For the first time, he felt homesick for their flat in London. He hadn't missed it before, since their environment had been so strange and interesting. Now, however, everything had changed. John, George and Ringo were nowhere to be found, and there was no sign of normality. Even the portrait on the wall felt wrong - and that was the strangest thing of all. How could a portrait of the four of them be a sign that something was wrong? It should have been his anchor to normality.
Later, Paul settled down on the veranda with a long cool drink in hand and stared out over the garden. He hadn't really been able to take in much of what he'd seen here. He'd got an impression of an almost overwhelming beauty as he'd walked through house and garden, but it was only now, in the twilight, that he was able to take in some of the details.
The garden was vast, and varied, and Paul quickly realised that the house was only a part of the whole. He wondered what he'd missed, living in what might as well have been a single room with John and George and Ringo as he had. He'd never really experienced gardens before. In fact, as he stared at the garden before him, he felt as if he was remembering something he'd never actually known before.
He'd never seen a garden. Nobody had ever mentioned them before, either. He felt as though he was supposed to know about gardens, but nobody had ever taken him to one. He had seen a garden before - although he thought it might actually be a garden party. He had an impression of a number of painted white, wrought iron outdoor settings, with people sitting around them, but it was as though he was seeing it from a distance. He'd never visited the garden party, and he suspected he never would. But he remembered it nonetheless.
This was nothing like the garden party. In the distance, he could see wide open meadows with all sorts of animals present, settling down for the night. There weren't just sheep. Sheep were present, but so were cattle, and horses, and many other forms that he couldn't quite identify right away. Closer to the house was a hedge maze. He could also see rose arbours, and many other things that he knew he would have to ask Gardener to explain to him.
Finishing his drink, he got to his feet and went inside. Night had fallen, and it was clouding over. He could almost sense the rain in the air, and he didn't particularly fancy getting wet. Unbidden, another memory sprang into his mind. An underground temple, with an even further underground stream, which (in a sequence which made him wonder if perhaps it had just been a dream) in turn came up in a hotel swimming pool. Bemused, he went to the kitchen where Gardener was preparing a salad for dinner.
"Gardener," he said, "Why can't I remember coming here?"
She gave him a faint smile. "You were in shock," she explained. "The separation from your three friends affected you the most. I had to have you carried here. Fortunately, Billy isn't as fussy as most unicorns about who he allows near him."
"What happened there, anyway? I could have sworn John was shape shifting."
"You were merging," she said. "Becoming a four headed monster. It happens sometimes, to groups like yours. We had to separate you before you became something that could only exist lower down."
"Lower down? Like where those tentacles came from?"
"Yes, that's right."
She handed him the bowl of salad and a couple of knives and forks. He carried them to the table, and started to set it. She followed him with a couple of plates, and went back to the kitchen to return with a couple of wine glasses and a chilled bottle of white wine. They sat down and started to eat.
The food tasted fabulous. He had time to think that much before her words sank in. Lower down. Where the tentacles came from...
"Could... could you explain that?"
"Lower down, you mean?"
Paul nodded, and Gardener took a sip of her wine. "Cyberspace is incredibly malleable, and so are the beings that reside within it. Like you and me. I don't come from quite the same environment that you do, so I'm more resistant to it."
Dread filled him. "You're not just talking about city and country, are you?" he said.
"No, I'm not. You came out of a movie. A movie which was recorded, set down on celluloid. The movie you came from will never change. The plot and the characters will always be the same. Even if they rerecord it using different actors one day, the original will always be the same. My sisters and I are different. We're Avatars. Also known as Mary Sues. We came out of the head of a specific person. We're more resistant to change in cyberspace because we are based on the concept of a particular individual. Just one person. You, however, out in cyberspace are subject to the whims of many different people, each with their own ideas of who you should be."
"What can I do?" he asked her, terrified of what she was going to say. "I don't want to be changed like that. I want to be me!"
On the outside, Gardener's Cottage looked like an ordinary cottage. It was larger than the average English cottage, and was surrounded by a broad, sweeping veranda. Paul quickly realised that its influence came not from the neat cottage gardens of England, but from a much warmer climate. Unlike the English cottage, it not only had the veranda, but also large picture windows that could open wide to allow the evening breeze inside. It was constructed to withstand a hot summer sun, rather than deep drifts of winter snow.
On the inside, all resemblance to English cottages vanished. All available wall space was taken up by bookcases, and Paul knew it would take him several lifetimes to read his way through them all. He wondered how Gardener had managed to collect them all.
"I inherited most of them," she explained conversationally, as if reading his mind. "My grandmother read a great deal, and could never bring herself to get rid of the books she owned."
She walked to a door almost concealed by the book cases. "Come through here. I'll show you where you will sleep."
Paul followed her through into a surprisingly wide corridor. Surprisingly, because the corridor was, like the room they had just been in, lined with bookshelves. "How many books do you have?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. The number tends to change a little, and the earlier ones aren't entirely legible anymore. I collect books and plants the way that Mistress collects men. Once I lose interest in a subject, the books which contain the knowledge start to fade."
A door appeared, apparently from nowhere, and Gardener lead him through it into a large bedroom. The centrepiece of the room was an enormous double bed, and Paul knew that he could get happily lost in its depths with any number of female fans for days at a time. Off to one side was a dressing table, which was flanked on each side by a door. One lead to a large walk in wardrobe, while the other lead to a small bathroom.
The room was neutral in tone, as if it waited to be stamped with a personality. There weren't any decorations, and the eiderdown was beige and featureless. "It'll change," Gardener told him. "As it gets used to your personality, the room will alter as a reflection of that."
Paul started to ask "How long will that take?", but trailed off as he saw the eiderdown start to darken, and paintings start to appear on the wall. Startlingly beautiful beetles appeared on the eiderdown, and a portrait of the group materialised on the wall opposite the dressing table. He glanced at Gardener, and saw her frowning.
She sighed. "It'll change as you change," she told him. "Come and I'll show you the rest of the place."
Up until that moment, Paul had felt almost normal. He missed his friends, and the house had been strange, but it had all looked normal. It still didn't look as though a hole could appear in reality and produce tentacles, but the sight of the eiderdown becoming patterned before his eyes was a sign that they were still nowhere near normal.
For the first time, he felt homesick for their flat in London. He hadn't missed it before, since their environment had been so strange and interesting. Now, however, everything had changed. John, George and Ringo were nowhere to be found, and there was no sign of normality. Even the portrait on the wall felt wrong - and that was the strangest thing of all. How could a portrait of the four of them be a sign that something was wrong? It should have been his anchor to normality.
Later, Paul settled down on the veranda with a long cool drink in hand and stared out over the garden. He hadn't really been able to take in much of what he'd seen here. He'd got an impression of an almost overwhelming beauty as he'd walked through house and garden, but it was only now, in the twilight, that he was able to take in some of the details.
The garden was vast, and varied, and Paul quickly realised that the house was only a part of the whole. He wondered what he'd missed, living in what might as well have been a single room with John and George and Ringo as he had. He'd never really experienced gardens before. In fact, as he stared at the garden before him, he felt as if he was remembering something he'd never actually known before.
He'd never seen a garden. Nobody had ever mentioned them before, either. He felt as though he was supposed to know about gardens, but nobody had ever taken him to one. He had seen a garden before - although he thought it might actually be a garden party. He had an impression of a number of painted white, wrought iron outdoor settings, with people sitting around them, but it was as though he was seeing it from a distance. He'd never visited the garden party, and he suspected he never would. But he remembered it nonetheless.
This was nothing like the garden party. In the distance, he could see wide open meadows with all sorts of animals present, settling down for the night. There weren't just sheep. Sheep were present, but so were cattle, and horses, and many other forms that he couldn't quite identify right away. Closer to the house was a hedge maze. He could also see rose arbours, and many other things that he knew he would have to ask Gardener to explain to him.
Finishing his drink, he got to his feet and went inside. Night had fallen, and it was clouding over. He could almost sense the rain in the air, and he didn't particularly fancy getting wet. Unbidden, another memory sprang into his mind. An underground temple, with an even further underground stream, which (in a sequence which made him wonder if perhaps it had just been a dream) in turn came up in a hotel swimming pool. Bemused, he went to the kitchen where Gardener was preparing a salad for dinner.
"Gardener," he said, "Why can't I remember coming here?"
She gave him a faint smile. "You were in shock," she explained. "The separation from your three friends affected you the most. I had to have you carried here. Fortunately, Billy isn't as fussy as most unicorns about who he allows near him."
"What happened there, anyway? I could have sworn John was shape shifting."
"You were merging," she said. "Becoming a four headed monster. It happens sometimes, to groups like yours. We had to separate you before you became something that could only exist lower down."
"Lower down? Like where those tentacles came from?"
"Yes, that's right."
She handed him the bowl of salad and a couple of knives and forks. He carried them to the table, and started to set it. She followed him with a couple of plates, and went back to the kitchen to return with a couple of wine glasses and a chilled bottle of white wine. They sat down and started to eat.
The food tasted fabulous. He had time to think that much before her words sank in. Lower down. Where the tentacles came from...
"Could... could you explain that?"
"Lower down, you mean?"
Paul nodded, and Gardener took a sip of her wine. "Cyberspace is incredibly malleable, and so are the beings that reside within it. Like you and me. I don't come from quite the same environment that you do, so I'm more resistant to it."
Dread filled him. "You're not just talking about city and country, are you?" he said.
"No, I'm not. You came out of a movie. A movie which was recorded, set down on celluloid. The movie you came from will never change. The plot and the characters will always be the same. Even if they rerecord it using different actors one day, the original will always be the same. My sisters and I are different. We're Avatars. Also known as Mary Sues. We came out of the head of a specific person. We're more resistant to change in cyberspace because we are based on the concept of a particular individual. Just one person. You, however, out in cyberspace are subject to the whims of many different people, each with their own ideas of who you should be."
"What can I do?" he asked her, terrified of what she was going to say. "I don't want to be changed like that. I want to be me!"
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