INITIUM NOVUM: Part 1 Read Online Free PDF

most people indulge
nonetheless. But should anyone need to know, and for all intents
and purposes, she has—through sheer familiarity—earned the right,
surpassing a privilege, to be rude to the as-of-yet unnamed man,
should a situation ever call for it.
    Her eyes stare through him and while they are
intensely focused, they do not appear to be angry. The gypsy may
very well have found his immaturity endearing and slightly
humorous. More likely, however, she already knows everything he
might say before he himself knows. Also, the first two times he had
called her a bitch, he had done so absentmindedly and without
intent to offend; this last time, it was his very intent to provoke
a response from her. Like most women, she enjoys his attention,
although there are far better ways of charming a girl than
insulting her.
    “Don’t you have a reset too?” He asks,
half-jokingly, but foolishly enough, half-seriously as
well.
    She shakes her head, smiling, knowing
something esoteric in nature about the young man. This small detail
amuses her. The sudden lightness of her mood is
noticeable.
    “I can see why she might like you.”
    “Yeah, and why’s that?” He says, grinning
goofily, under the impression that she’s paying him a
compliment.
    “She has bad taste in men,” she says to him,
much to his confusion.
    “She has a hard-on for you now and she won’t
stop until she crushes you,” the gypsy says in a matter-of-fact
way.
    “Then how does that equate to liking me?” He
inquires.
    “She wants to chew you up and spit you out.
She wants to own you.”
    “Still not getting how that means she likes
me.”
    “Her fetish just happens to be men in cages,”
she responds, elaborating further despite her obvious disdain for
the topic.
    “Dope,” he says in a tone which somehow
manages to both belie and embody sarcasm. If the gypsy did not
already know, she would be confused by his manner of speaking.
Instead, she grins. At this point, she’s so wrapped up in the now
that she’s forgotten about his last insult.
    Truthfully, there was no reason for her to
become upset with him in the first place. She had prior knowledge
of his demeanor, knowing him before he had even come to be, knowing
what he can be, knowing him more than he knows himself, and even
knowing his name when he himself does not.
    “I’m going to give you a piece of advice that
I know you won’t listen to, but maybe the wisdom will resonate with
you,” she starts. “Leave Cohen alone. Karma is accumulative. The
actions you take will stay with you. Just start over.”
    No! Ride
it out.
    He doesn’t ask, but he does wonder what his
karma is supposed to transfer over to. To be frank, he wonders a
great many things, such as the state of his sanity, the gypsy’s
sanity, whether today is a figment of his imagination, what his
name might be, and the small possibility that he is hallucinating
due to some drug which was ingested relatively recently.
    “If this is real, then what exactly am I?” He
asks, solemnly and, for the first time (in apparently, ever) his
voice carries the weight of his existential angst.
    “Focus on who instead of what you are?” She
answers.
    “Where did I come from?” He continues tossing
questions at her.
    “ From what I know, you began at
your bathroom mirror. And before that, well, I can’t
say.”
    “Can’t or won’t?”
    “Does it matter?” She says with a sad smile,
as if the thoughts behind it were infused with both joy and
pain.
    For him, the response satisfies the question
asked but it provides no answers for him. Inside his head, he
thinks to himself, “What the fuck does ‘began’ mean?”
    He tries, and quite sternly, to understand
everything he’s been told as the truth. He believes that she
believes it is true. But then again, that would make the girl a bit
of a loony, it does. Especially when you factor that he’s
apparently never done a drug in his entire life. And actually, he’s
only hours old.
    He