Contours of Darkness by Marco Vassi Page B

depressing, Aaron stepped into the world he had created for himself out of the pitiful tools he had been given as a birthright and saw it to be absolutely stifling. Forgetting that the power of the perceptions was due to the increased energy released by the acid, he thought he would have to live for the rest of his life with this frightful aspect. And with an elegant leap of rational intelligence he understood that the awesome immediacy of the insight would be tempered by time, but that its factual reality would continue. In sum, in a few days he would feel better about his condition, reverting to his customary level of consciousness, but his condition would continue to be a denial or a translation of the fierce life energy inside him.
    'It's all true,' he said aloud.
    Conrad blinked and looked at the inert form. 'How you feeling, man?' he said.
    'I've been under a long time,' Aaron responded.
    'About three hours/ said Conrad.
    'About thirty-one years/ Aaron said.
    'Ah.' Conrad added, 'You've seen all that.'
    'Yeah,' Aaron said in a low vibrant voice, 'I've seen all that.' He stared at the ceiling. The conversation lifted much of the weight from his chest; they were two solitaries sharing the darkness of the night, the way wolves howl to relieve their plaintive loneliness under stark moons over frozen hills. 'You are my comrade,' he said.
    Conrad cocked his head. 'I don't know what that word means,' he said. 'All I know is friends and strangers. And you aren't a stranger any more, and I don't know whether you're my friend.'
    'Are you all right?' said Cynthia.
    'I feel like the past few hours have been one long breath,' Aaron told her. 'And I've filled my lungs and can be here for quite a while, but soon I'll be letting it all out again and breathing it all in again.'

'The next cycle will be less intense,' Conrad said. 'And the one after that even less so. Until you'll be breathing normally again.'
    'Will I go back the way I was?' Aaron asked.
    'No point in talking about that,' Conrad answered.
    Aaron closed his eyes again, but instead of sliding back into the austere realm of cerebration, he fell into a pool of sensuality, his brain retiring to the task of sorting all the new data and structuring new gestalten to pattern it. He descended into his body.
    It was as though a spirit entered the room, changing the very molecules of the air.
    There was no change immediately observable to gross perception. Aaron seemed as still as he had been earlier, but to one who could read the language of the body, the difference was marked. Whereas his energy
    had been flowing up into his brain and inward toward his centre, giving him the appearance of a man in shock, and instilling that feeling of constriction which he had translated into an image of the grave, it now moved downward and outward, charging his pelvis and legs, so that he seemed to swell and radiate; to the degree he had appeared deathly, he now was seen to overflow with life. His thoughts became, instead of the laboratory of crucial considerations, like the delicate riffs of a piece by Mozart heard in the background while fucking. No imitation of sex as such intruded into the atmosphere, for the other two had not yet moved into that realm of expansion which now transformed Aaron and imparted to him a radiant beauty.
    Conrad was the first to be affected, noting with almost cynical satisfaction that the contours of the trip were developing along expected paths. The realisation caught him in a bind, for he knew that in a short time the scene would move into the area of orgy, and to succumb to that temptation was too easy for his liking; it also carried the threat of repercussions from Aaron. He did not wish to subject their relationship to more strain than the older man could assimilate, especially under the influence of the drug. In the outlaw lifestyle that had become his role it was more important to be secure within a narrow ground with people than to indulge in far-reaching