Eyedetee
by somecharacter
Too much art, not enough meaning. In the bin.
Drawing was the natural medium for her sigils, but it took a while to shove Art-with-a-big-A aside and fill the damn things with intention.
Again.
I. Desire. That. My. Mind. Conquers. His. Eyedeetee-doubleumm-CHUH. Dot-dot, dot-dot, dot-dot. Into a rhythm. EYEdeetee, dot-dot with a strong line for the desire, the desire, the desire. Those three extra curves give a motion. Doubleumm the focussing swirl, gather to a shaft of will, narrowing, narrowing, concentration and control, contain and constrain chuh, subject to, target of and under. Chuh is under.
Done, done, where’s a match? I. Desire. That. My. Mind. Conquers. His. Hard into the paper, that’s the way. Burn it. Stop.
The little flames died quickly on the plate as she went about making breakfast, anticipating the long day in the workshop. Art, with a really big A, was firmly back in mind. Breakfast done, the ashes were discarded unnoticed, along with the black bits of the toast.
She was placing the LEDs on the work when he rang the bell. “Two secs!", she called out as the legs pierced the fabric, then “Shite!” as the cathode leg bent back on the metal underneath.
She opened the door, a tall, stronlgly made woman with the morning light chasing away the glower on her face. He was smiling.
“Morning, Jan. Pliers?", Neil offered, holding up a well used multi tool.
“Bit small, but they’ll do. Ta. Want to get the kettle on while I don’t snap the leg off that buggering LED?”
“Aye, I bought Proper Coffee—is that OK?”
“Not too strong, eh?”
She watched him bumble into the kitchen, somehow taking his rucksack off his back, the coffee out of the bag and his coat off in one move. A move that wasn’t elegant or particularly co-ordinated but never quite got to being in a tangle. Like a bloody bear, but without being big and strong, she thought. After some rattlebang in the kitchen he bought coffee into the workshop. “Drink it while it’s hot, petal”.
This LED went in without trouble and she swivelled round as he sat at the desk next to the bench. She slurped the coffee and regarded him.
“Not too strong! Thanks. Today I want to get the LEDs working with the audio. Can you get round the other side of the bench and solder as I’m placing them?” “Yep, and no risk I’ll catch you up, there’s six solder points to each one”.
They set to. She, thoughtful of the colour and topography where the LEDs’ light should shine, he, quick and sure as he loomed, fluxed and tinned. She led, he followed, and they made the work. Once or twice she asked him to activate an LED so she could check how and where the light evidenced, but the need for checks and adjustments fell away as she found their way into the flow of the work. There were fewer—and then no—words as they worked together.
She placed the last LED and stood back. There was no need to check, she felt it was correct. Neil had a good hour to go, she saw, and he hadn’t noticed that she was finished. She could start the softer part of the work.
Neil had replied to her online request for an embedded techie who liked art to collaborate on a piece. There had been few applications really worth a look and his CV—he’d attached a CV straight away, like he meant it, there was a start—had most of the things she was looking for. She’d even seen the digital signs he’d worked on in the bus station. Hard to get excited that the next bus to Walsall is on time and going from bay six, but here was a working thing with a little piece of his soul shadowed on it that she could experience. A couple of emails, some instant message chat, texts, phone calls and a crap coffee later and the gig was his if he wanted it. He did.
She studied him now. When had it come to her, this thought and desire to lead and control? How much did Neil being Neil come into it? Was it particularly him she wanted to conquer? Well, it was Neil now.
Jan’s ad had been worded in a way that took Neil’s eye. “You’re a techie who likes art and I need to add your strengths to mine to make a work. Together we’ll bend audio, form and light in ways we haven’t yet thought about. No Tories, please.” and some contact instructions. Please paste the ad you’re replying to, he noted. Slightly different wording to indicate where the ad was found, maybe? I wonder why. Neil had just finished a contract with a very dull but quite well paying aerospace firm and wasn’t a Tory, so he dropped them a line with his CV attached. What’s to lose?
A beep from his soldering iron told him the battery was running out. He fished out a charged up 18650 from his shirt pocket and was ready to be back in business when he saw that Jan had finished and was staring. At the work, Neil, she’s staring at the work, crack on. He smiled at her, then turned his gaze onto the stretch of red cable he was about to strip and tin.
Neil had been surprised by her voice. It turned out he hadn’t been expecting “J. Wentham” to be a woman. “Fair enough, initials aren’t gendered”, said Jan, and she was pleased that his tone and approach to their communication didn’t change much in the light of the new knowledge. She was treated as the lead who knew her craft—just the change of pronoun there—and he found the right way to explain technicalities when he needed to. Gentle probing got a peevish “I’m not a bloody Tory, if that’s what you’re trying to find out” from him and he seemed genuinely interested in her art. When they met for that nasty coffee, it was her turn to be surprised. She’d expected a taller frame to be producing the big voice and, well, some sign that he had heard that you could iron clothes. And comb hair. He didn’t smell bad, though, so the hat trick of doom was missed.
Jan had made him laugh from the start. She could always point out the odd side of things and would make up silly stories about how that pigeon came to be on the pillar box after it had shat on the statue of Chamberlain and why the bus was always late when the driver’s name had a ‘D’ in it. Nervous when he found she was taller than him because some people went a bit funny when they were taller, he was calmed by her manner and by her ability to be interested in anything. Her artist’s eye was quite different to his engineeringey one and it fascinated him that they could both be looking for patterns for quite different reasons and would see the pattern quite differently when they found it. She was offering rubbish money and it was a very short gig, but he’d have done it for less.
It was time now. “Neil”.
“Yes?", he did’t look up. Good.
“My pattern gets narrower, it must be followed carefully”
“I see that”. He did.
“You must follow it exactly, you understand, don’t you?", the last syllable CHUH. Chuh is under.
“That’s happening”. It was.
“The double M form demands your attention”, doubleumm. Chuh is under the shaft.
“It has it, so do you”. She did.
“Good. I’d ...", she left a gap, a trap.
His concentrating face betrayed a thought arriving. Unexpected, uninvited, not his own. It took a hold. He wasn’t thirsty, he preferred coffee, but
“Tea?", it was a question about the word. Why would he be mentioning this?
“Eyedeetee”, it was all said. She could feel the work. She could shape the work.
“Yes”, Neil had stopped work, the work was nearing completion. Bring the sigil back, put the strength of the intention on him now.
“Eyedeetee doubleumm CHUH. Chuh is under, subject to, target of the shaft, The shaft narrows and controls, constrains and contains, The focus of my mind.”
“Yes”, Neil put the soldering iron down. Jan watched his reflexes kick in as he automatically turned it off. He was staring at her.
“On your mind”
“My mind”
“Narrowed and constrained, controlled and contained and led by my mind”
“I..", Neil
“Desire that”, Jan
“My mind”, together
“Conquers”, Jan
“Surrenders to”, Neil
“Yours”, together, followed by a great sigh as the tension of the work softened.
They were locked together, both still in a long moment of realisation. There was no sense of flow, no exchange. Now her mind controlled his, his thoughts were hers to command. She broke it, she was the leader.
“We can complete the work now”