The Toothfairy, Quickenings, the Game, and Me
By Genevieve Fowler
(Disclaimer: All right, if you've visited this page before, you know who Genevieve is. She does not necessarily see things like other people, and I'm in no mood to apologize for her right now. I don't know if the way she sees the Game is anything more than her typical stubbornness…girlfriend, jab me with that thing one more time, and I'm serious…PWP with Silas, and sparing no details…)
I am not a Game hag. I guess I should explain that. There are some Immortals out there who are really into it-I don't know if this is like, some kind of militant cultural identity thing for them or just a bad potty-training experience or what, but "There can be only one," is their bumper sticker, it's their tee shirt, it's their total way of life. Me, I don't get it. I don't expect I ever really will, so I thought I'd contribute my rant on the subject. Since Vixen is seriously slacking about the fanfic and all.
Part of my viewpoint could be how I ended up into it-I never really got all of the details before the first time some jerk held a sword on me. All I knew was, we don't die like normal people, some of us carry swords, and it might be a good idea to look into the whole martial arts thing. And when I lucked out and won-hello! Your first Quickening should not be a thing that just sneaks up on you like that. Not that you ever get used to it, but jeez Louise, let me tell you, you ever heard that phrase, "Struck by lightning?" Well, there I am, I whack somebody, and all hell breaks loose. All that Catholic training comes back at you at moments like that-I'm thinking, "Okay, I'm totally getting sent to hell." And then the second thing I'm thinking is, "Gee, is that what this is all about?"
There can be only one: one guy gets all the Quickenings. After a while, hearing the catch phrase, meeting a few people, it started to come together. Know what? I still don't get it. I know I'm thick, I have my moments, but I just don't get it. I've studied a little biology, a little human nature, religion never really took with me-all I'm saying is, I still don't get it.
Don't get me wrong. I still take heads. I have done it, and I will continue to do that so long as people still come after me or, you know, if someone really seems to be asking for it. I'm not going to be all Pollyanna on the subject, because that's how people wind up dead. And in case you're wondering, yeah, I feel guilt about that. I know killing people is not a good thing. Hell, I happen to still count it as one of those sins that I could be in real trouble for, later on. Killing people, and b.s.-ing myself. I've always known that the world was a dangerous place-my dad made sure I knew that. And people in my family, I'm not going to pretend they're all "Ozzie and Harriet," you know? I know people who've been put away for doing that. But anyone who goes around with that, "You gotta do what you gotta do" attitude, is b. s.-ing themselves. If you kill someone, whether you did it on orders or for self-defense, you have to except that it becomes a part of who you are. You had your reasons. My dad had his reasons when he was in Vietnam. My uncle Paul had his reasons when he shot somebody for…his reasons. When I take someone's head, I have my reasons-only good reasons like I don't want to die, and that means the other guy should. Whatever the reasons, it is a very personal thing. It affects you. No matter how affected I've been by it, though, I will still do it.
But not because I believe there can be only one. That one doesn't play with me. In fact, it sits really badly with me, and I've got reasons for that, too.
I know some people have this idea of us-including some of us, for that matter-as being somehow mystical just because can live a good long time. It's rare, I'll give you that one. But I don't feel so much mystical when I've woken up from one of those "little deaths," as I like to call them, as hung-over and messed-up. Think of it this way-my ten-year high school reunion is coming up. I can't go to that, for a few personal reasons, but I know I'd see a little difference between those people and me. The pictures of babies some of them have in their wallets. The pounds they can put on, that I can't afford to. What differences would I see after twenty years? Thirty? Yeah. That isn't mystical. Call it whatever you want-I'm sure no one would be impressed with how "well-preserved" I'd come across. It would start becoming freakish. And sometimes, I do feel like that, even now. But what I don't feel, is like I've been set apart for any particular purpose. It's a peculiarity of my metabolism-but not my soul. Inside, underneath my twenty-year-old face, I'm just like anyone else. You know, only I kill people sometimes, but besides that? The same. So I can't grasp why I-or any of us for that matter-should consider "The Prize" as our destiny.
Whatever the Prize might be. And that's another thing I don't get. Look at it this way-ever get a really tough to open pistachio? And then, in the shell, bupkis? Or really, you ever really get thrilled by what you found in the Cracker Jacks? Exactly. That's what I'm talking about.
For me, it could be a religious thing, sure. I wasn't brought up strictly religious, but I've been exposed. Since my dad was brought up in a household with two faiths (Catholic and Jewish, lucky him, huh) and my mom just, well, she could have been a nun? Except for my dad? Anyway, they decided to lay off of me where religion was concerned. I only went to Catholic schools because they weren't about to let me enjoy the Philadelphia public school system. But anyhow, the Game just doesn't fit into my picture of "how God works." I just can't see Him handing over the keys to some schmuck whose only real claim to fame was being a lot better at killing other people than all the other schmucks who were at it. It seems a little naïve, you know? Like if there was a system, God would have come up with something better than that? So I can't take the idea as gospel. It just doesn't fit in with the rest of my faith-to the degree that I still have some faith. And if you want to know the truth, this beheading people gets to be a pretty faithless business. When I'm through with someone, all I believe in is, I've got to hide the body before I'm caught, not-here goes one of the competition.
Not that I haven't given it thought. We-Immortals I mean-don't do a lot of sitting back and chewing the fat about what we'd do if we were the last one. Think about how gross that would be, huh? "If I were the last one, not that you'd still be around…" But if I were the last one, I'd settle for…nothing. What the hell, you know? I don't think, not even if I had the combined Quickenings of all the rest of them, that I'd know what to do. It's nothing I can imagine or think about, let alone want. How about, I'd like to meet a nice guy and settle down? I want to be comfortable and not looking over my shoulder all the time. I want what normal people want. Try not being normal, and normal starts looking like a pretty good deal. Or maybe, I'd just want to hit the "reset" button. Give all of us a shot. Because if I were the last one, you know what that would mean to me?
It would mean the deaths of a lot of people. That's what the Game has meant, so far. To be the last would mean seeing good ones go, as well as bad ones. I considered whacking Duncan MacLeod at one point, but I don't think I'd want to see him go, now. I wouldn't. What would seeing Amanda go be like? Or Methos? And I don't even have so many Immortals that I know as friends. But people who've lived longer than me-they've had time to make friends. Take lovers. There are Immortal married couples-imagine that! How do you get to be the only one other than watching some of your nearest and dearest bite it? And maybe that's the part that makes me the craziest-might make any of us crazy-it's where the Game puts us in terms of mortals and ourselves, and how we relate even to each other. How we relate to the whole damn world, because of the Game.
My parents don't know I'm Immortal. At present they don't know I'm still alive, but that's another story. I was married, and lay next to a man every night, who didn't know what I was. But when I meet someone who does know-I worry about whether I will have to kill that person, or they will want to kill me. A girl can't be too careful. So I don't make friends all that easily. I think of it as the "sword closet." Very few mortals would be understanding enough for me to "come out" to, and even between other Immortals, our differences can keep us apart, unless we establish all of our terms up front. And pray the other person isn't lying, or a player. The people who I might fit in best with are the very same people I have to fear and stay away from. That's part of why we announce ourselves-we do get reputations, and for more than just how we fight, or how old we are. It's about who we are-who is a headhunter. Who deals straight. Who you can trust, and who you can trust only to take your head. "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod" means something to an Immortal who hears it, or should. I don't exactly know what "Genevieve Fowler" means to the Immortal who hears it. It probably means, "Watch out for this chick, she's probably drunk enough to get somebody killed." So far, it hasn't been me. Maybe my rep's even working.
But I'm young, you know? Who even wants my head for anything, unless they've seriously got me mistaken for someone else? Whatever I feel about the Game, I don't imagine it's going to get any better for me as I get older, that's for sure. My head gets more valuable with age-if you believe in the Game. Me, I don't necessarily know what I'm taking in with a head. But then, I'm not into "vintage Quickenings." But some people are.
Take Methos, for example. His would be a vintage Q. He took himself out of the Game for years-because of what his name meant. He's a myth. So long as he's a myth, he can survive. Once someone knows there really is a Methos though-he runs the risk of being a dead myth. I don't get all misty-eyed on a regular basis for him, but I've looked at it from his side. It can suck being him. It sucks being any of us, but it can particularly suck being the oldest-or just old, period. It means someone might just hunt you for the sake of hunting you, and getting the power you represent. Instead of wanting you alive for the wisdom and experience you might represent. Immortals-we don't just eat our own-we're hardest on our best!
Part of me just thinks the whole deal sounds like a set-up. I know how that sounds--and yes, I am really cynical for my age, but it does, you know? Like somebody, somewhere, just said, "Hey, there's no natural population controls on these bad boys, so let's give them an unnatural one." It makes no sense, in terms of culture or biology, for us to have a natural drive to want the rest of our kind exterminated--it would make more sense if, maybe, just maybe, somebody outside put the fix in. I'm not pointing any fingers...it could have been another Immortal's bright idea. But when I look deep down into myself--I just don't like killing people. Something tells me that if this was what I was supposed to do, nature would have given me a taste for it...but I could be wrong.
Anyway, for all of these reasons, I'm down on the Game. Just so you know where I'm coming from.
(I could go on, but I won't. Vixen starts looking at me cross-eyed when I get up on the soapbox. Woman, don't you have some AU novella to work on, or something? Oh, yeah--the Toothfairy? The Toothfairy doesn't exist, you're old enough to know better.)