"Have you ever heard the Legend of the Iron Goat?"
The Legend of The Iron Goat
2019
Lillian Lillihammer had seen the books on Heather Garrison's bookshelf before, but had never really carefully looked at them. Her fingers traced the edges of the spines, working her way across the shelf and feeling the embossed letters shifting beneath her touch. There was one book that stood out from the rest. It was a paperback, immensely thick and so well read that the spine was illegible, all that remained was the binding.
"Find something interesting, Lil?" Heather said, walking back into her dorm's living room, a tray of snacks and two dusty rose coupe glasses balanced carefully on one hand.
"Yeah, I did actually. I never knew that you were such a book-abuser." Lillian teased as she grabbed the book and pulled it off of the shelf. "Les Misérables? I never took you for a classics lover."
"Really? Lillian, I'm dating you. Of course I'm a classics lover." Heather sat down on her couch, and Lillian fell back into the seat beside her, pulling Heather into her arms. The two immediately relaxed, the stress of the day melting away within their safe, comfortable bubble.
"Ha ha, very funny. What's the story behind this, though? Was it your favorite novel?"
Heather took the worn novel out of Lillian's hands, and began to flip through the pages.
"It wasn't my favorite, but… there is a story behind it. You know that I used to be at Site-19, but have I ever told you what I did there?"
Lillian shook her head. "Honestly, it didn't seem relevant to me?"
"Of course it wouldn't." Heather replied, kissing Lillian on the cheek. "In that case, do you want to hear the story?"
"Are you just dragging this out to irritate me?" Lillian said, a small blush fading from her cheeks.
"Not quite. Well, maybe a bit." Heather grinned. "It's just a part of the art of storytelling, Lils."
"As all stories do, we need to go back to the beginning." Heather said as she flipped through the pages, before stopping on the title. Opposite the title page was a stamp that read 'Property of Site-19's Literary Sciences Department. DO NOT REMOVE FROM SITE'.
2016
Are you feeling bored of the endless monotony and paperwork that fills your days at The Foundation? Are you looking for a fun and exciting new monthly social event where you can meet like-minded researchers and make friends?
Can you read?
If so, you should join the Site-19 Book Club!
The first meeting of the book club will be on the 28th of the month, at 7pm, in Meeting Room LS-4206A. The first book we are reading and discussing is Les Misérables by Victor Hugo — copies are available at request or can be found beside the monthly events bulletin.
We are looking forward to seeing you there!
Book club? Heather thought to herself as she awkwardly stood in front of the flyer. Heather Garrison was, in no ways, a brash personality. But at Site-19, 'brash' was not wearing the informal uniform of gray linen and a lab coat at all times. Wearing a baggy sweater and jeans, her hair up in a messy bun; well that would be downright transgressive.
I don't know. I should probably try to make more friends, right? And by more friends, I mean… any friends? Heather was a loner, partially by choice. She was still figuring out who she was becoming, and was terrified of what others thought about her. She was awkward, and she knew it.
Maybe a book club is the right idea? There will probably be other introverted, awkward people who are just as anxious as you are, right girl? Heather looked down from the flyer and noticed a stack of books; each a copy of Les Misérables. She grabbed one, holding the thick tome as she was lost in her own thoughts.
Some time later, a voice from behind broke her reverie. "Book club? Seriously?" a researcher Heather recognized from Applied Thaumatiphysics, as a duo passed through the halls behind her. Heather blushed, stuffing the book into her bag. Worst case, I hate the book and don't go. Might as well give it a shot, right?
2019
"Wait, you weren't always loud and assertive and so radiantly domineering?" Lillian asked, challenging her partner.
"Do you want to make fun of baby Heather, or do you want me to continue the story?" Heather gave Lillian a well-practiced taunting look.
"Okay, fine. No more interruptions."
"Suuuure."
2016
Luca Armaros looked around Meeting Room 4206-A with the satisfaction of a job very well done. Tables and seats to accommodate up to forty attendees, buffet tables lining the sides of the room, piled high with refreshments, snacks and desserts. He even decorated, writing 'Site-19's Inaugural Book Club!' on a nearby whiteboard.
Luca nodded to himself, a deserved smugness falling over him. He had made the fliers, sent out the emails, coordinated the moving pieces and personally bought the many copies of Les Misérables for the club. He paused, thinking back to when he first came up with the book club.
Despite the site being full of scientists, scholars and experts, how is it possible that so few are media literate? I'm surrounded by researchers who live their lives based on figures and numbers; if they just read a book for once, maybe they would think outside of the box. For the love of god, how can I get anybody to actually read a book?
The thoughts had raced through his mind for many months before he decided on starting a book club. Once he had that idea, he just had to pick the book they were going to read. Luca looked at the well-thumbed paperback in front of him and smiled. This was a fantastic choice. Well written, interesting characters, and most of all? It's a light read.
He smiled, closing the book and looking at the clock hanging over the door. The time read 6:58pm. Good. Now I just need to wait for everybody to show up.
Luca stared at the half-eaten plate of cookies in front of him and sighed. It was 8:45pm, and he was alone in the meeting room. A couple of times he had thought he heard somebody walking by outside, but nobody stopped or came in. After the first thirty minutes, he checked his phone to make sure that it actually was the 28th; it was. After the first hour, he checked that he got the room number right on the fliers; it was.
He had decided that, after two hours, he was going to give up and leave. Fifteen minutes to go. Whew. I love how engaged and excited the Site is when it comes to Literature!
The sarcasm did nothing to ease his frustration. You know what? Screw waiting, I'm going home. Clearly, nobody wants to read — I shouldn't be surprised with how hard it is to get new researchers to join Literary Sciences. I just… I had higher hopes.
Luca stood from his chair, and began to make his way over to the meeting room door; he had put up a sign, to make sure that everybody knew they were in the right place for book club. It wasn't like he needed it anymore, taking it down was the first step in admitting defeat.
"He— hello?" A husky whisper of a voice said, as the door opened and a figure Luca didn't recognize stood in the doorway. "Is this the— did I miss Reading Club? I know I'm late, but I got lost and then… Looks like everybody else is gone though, sorry for bothering you."
Luca realized that he had still been glaring, the surprise of a new human throwing him off. With a straightening of his back, and a gentle smile, he reoriented himself and held out a hand to the woman. "Wait! Come on in, we had a bit of a late start, so make yourself comfortable! There's snacks on the sides and—" he paused, gesturing at the empty room, "Plenty of seats, so pick anywhere you would like."
"Oh, that's great! Do you know who else is coming late then?"
What do I say?
The woman had set her bag down on a chair near Luca's cookie platter, and turned to face him with an awkward smile.
"Hi, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Heather Garrison, I'm a Junior Researcher here. Nice to meet you?" Heather said, the words tumbling out in quick succession.
Luca smiled back warmly. "Luca Armaros, Head of the Literary Sciences Department. Pleasure to meet you."
"Oh. Can I be honest?" Heather asked, making a small plate of snacks. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "I've never heard of the Literary Sciences Department."
Luca let out an involuntary self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm not surprised, books and adaptations aren't the 'flashiest' area of research, and our department is pretty tiny." Despite all the work we do around here to keep everybody safe. He thought, keeping the final part to himself.
To her credit, Heather seemed to understand what he didn't say, sharing a knowing look. "Well, I'm not very important, but I like stories?"
"I'm glad you made it. And stories are delightful, I'd love to be part of one, one day!" Luca said, waiting for Heather's laughter. It never came. "Anyways, let's sit down and then we can get started!"
"Oh!" came Heather's reply as she sat down in her chair.
Please don't ask. Luca silently prayed to himself.
"What about… aren't we waiting for everybody else?"
She had to ask. Oh pancakes.
Luca let out a sheepish grin, and started rubbing the back of his neck. "To be honest, I think that you are the only person who planned on coming tonight. I understand if you don't want to just sit in a room with me talking about Les Mi—"
"What? No I definitely need to talk about this book with somebody." Heather interjected, looking at Luca with the most intensity he had seen out of the woman.
"Oh, right!" Luca said, doing his best to hide his surprise. "We might as well begin then. What did you think of the book?"
"Eh, I don't think it was for me."
Why was she so intense about this book then?
"How so?" Luca asked, unsure of how to maintain a book club with only two people.
"Oh right, sorry. I keep a lot of thoughts in my head normally. Let me think." Heather paused for a moment, and Luca watched as her eyes began vibrating, flicking side to side, glazing over as she got lost in her thoughts. Is she… is she okay? Just as he was about to call medical, she regained focus and started to talk.
"I thought that Hugo's characterizations of his female characters were lacking in both agency and depth, the plot was interesting, but doesn't feel like it was doing anything incredible, and I thought that Enjolras and Grantaire should have ended up together, like I know why they weren't, but come on, seriously? They're so queer coded that it hurts."
Feminist and queer theoretical frameworks! Luca thought with excitement, realizing that this was better than a room full of overly-agreeable researchers just echoing the exact same opinions. Luca loved understanding the why, but he never expected somebody outside of his department to have the level of reading comprehension to use literary theory for a casual book club.
"Agreed, the almost deification Grantaire has for Enjolras is definitely driven by a subtextual queer crush, especially in a time when queer relationships were relegated to the sidelines. I'd argue that every time Grantaire expresses any support for the rebellion, he does so because he is unable to express his emotions towards Enjolras."
"Oh, definitely. It feels very intentional that Hugo had Grantaire drunk throughout, an act of avoidance for his true feelings." Heather was leaning forward, having broken through whatever mental barrier she had earlier.
"Okay, one second. You said you didn’t like the book, and you have opinions on it?” Luca stated with undeniable glee in his voice. “I need to hear them.”
Heather laughed awkwardly, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I… I have a lot of opinions on things, even things I hate." She paused for a moment, considering Luca's question, before continuing. "My favourite part was… thank god you're the only person in the room, this is embarrassing."
"It's alright, this is a judgement free zone. Was it the romance? The class politics? Hugo's detailed descriptions of classical French architecture? Maybe it was the orphan?" Again, Luca paused, before continuing. "Sorry, go ahead Heather."
"I liked the sewers."
Oh god, did I really just fucking say that? Heather thought to herself as she stared at Luca's momentarily confused face. The sewers? God what a fucking stupid answer, maybe I can just stay for a bit longer and then—
"Fascinating."
Huh?
"I find that the non-diagetic asides Hugo uses throughout his works are fascinating, potentially some of the most narratively interesting sections. What was it about the sewer sections that you found so fascinating?" Luca leaned forward and was looking at Heather intently, bouncing up and down in his seat. For the first time this evening, Luca looked excited — and maybe he was finally considering her interesting, maybe even… intelligent?
With a renewed courage, Heather answered. "Honestly, there was something really… I don't know, authentic? Magical? Real? That section was incredible; while reading it, I could picture myself within the sewers, I created a mental map of the crisscrossing tunnels, I smelled the sewage and I felt like I was there. Sure, the Battle of Waterloo parts were more detailed, and had more authenticity to the moments but— there is just something about the sewers that feels distinct from the novel and how he usually writes. Something… I can't think of the word, intangible?"
"Fleeting?" Luca suggested.
"Yes! The sewers feel like a reflection of life while you're reading the section, but the moment you're through, it becomes almost inert? Like whatever force had been driving and creating that immersive worldscape was just… gone. I don't know, sorry, I don't think that was a very good explanation."
Luca shook his head. "No, that was brilliant. That's exactly what I felt too; Hugo had so many details that felt inconsequential, but are critical and fundamental to being transported to the place and time of the book. We are able to embody his place as observer in the narrative because of how he creates context."
"Absolutely, that was how I felt!" Heather laughed. "I just know that it's a boring answer, like… who cares about that dry kind of descriptions? Other than me, that is."
Heather looked at Luca, who was currently lost in thought. He had a kind face, but his glasses gave him a distinct harshness. I wonder how much of him is authentic? she mused, as she waited for a reply. The silence between them, once awkward, was now settling into something more akin to ease. After some time, Luca took a sip of his drink, and returned his focus to Heather.
"Sorry about the delay, I got lost in the pages." Another pause. "It’s about finding meaning, isn’t it? Using the text as data, with both subjective and objective connotations to our world. Hermeneutics — ever heard the term before?”
Hermeneutics? And wait, was that a joke? Should I have laughed? Oh god, I think it was, but I can't laugh now, it's way too late. Uhh, crap. And now I'm ignoring him, again. Great job, Heath, you're killing the social thing tonight! Fuck. Right. The answer.
"Hermeneutics? It sounds fam—"
"What is your specialty, Heather, if you don't mind me asking?" Luca interrupted, unable to contain his excitement, his index fingers arched and pressed together in a point.
"Oh, well," Heather said, dancing around the topic, "I'm a bit of a generalist, I just kind of get whatever assignment my supervisor gives me. It's mostly paperwork, I don't get to do a lot of practical research."
"Let me rephrase my question then: what do you like to research and study?"
"Oh that's easy. Memetics. Being able to make, control and modify a concept, bending it to your needs and purposes? I love that, and it just… it makes sense to my brain? I've actually been working on the side on a really bi— actually, you know what? Never mind. But yeah! Memetics!"
Oh my god, I sound like an idiot.
"Memetics? Heather, can I tell you about Hermeneutics? I think you'll find them really interesting." Luca said, a wicked smile framed by a glint shining off of his glasses.
Why… why does it feel like this is a trap? Heather thought, unsure how to respond. No, I need to push myself. This is how you make friends, right?
"I'd love to learn about them." She said, fighting to conceal the hesitation in her voice.
She just couldn't shake the thought that Luca looked like an editor that smelled fresh ink on the page…
2019
"Oh my god." Lillian interrupted. She had slid off of the couch, and was now stretched out on the floor, staring at the ceiling. She leaned forward and looked at Heather. "Is he the reason you're so obsessed with the… uhhh what do you call them… 'Hermie Fullers'?"
"So am I supposed to pretend that you don't have an eidetic memory?" Heather said, knowing Lillian was being an asshole on purpose.
"You will if you love me?" Lillian said, a rare, playful lightness to her voice.
"Well then I guess my answer is yes, Luca is the reason I fell in love with the idea of Hermeneutics. Hell, it was part of my inspiration for my Deadna—"
Heather paused for a second, a headache coming on fast. After a moment, it faded.
"Sorry about that. Where was I?"
"You and Luca were about to bond over your little nerd thing." She was begging for it now. But Heather ignored her; attention was what Lillian wanted, and she never liked to make it too easy.
2016
"—like cognitohazards! But instead of doing just one thing, it restructures reality around said concept, like an adaptation. Fairy tales, folklore, literature – they’re all susceptible to the ability of reshaping the world through the point of view of those interacting with it." Luca had given Heather the complete crash course in hermeneutics, and she had absorbed it like a bone-dry sponge. The question is, Luca mused, how much of that did she understand?
"Okay so," Heather began, the gears turning as she spoke, "A hermeneutic is effectively a memetic complex that represents a specific idea, including context? And when the concept is observed, the hermeneutic filters the memetic complex through the ontological context of the observer, and through that, changes the meaning of the memetic complex, restructuring baseline reality to match the new definition?"
When Heather finally finished, she took a deep inhale, out of breath from voicing her firehose of a mind. She looked at Luca, waiting for him to answer.
Oh, I'm definitely flipping stealing her for my department. Luca thought, already planning the paperwork in his head, without asking. Realizing that she was still waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat and replied.
"Yeah, that's… that's very technically phrased. Interesting." He chuckled. "I hadn't considered it that way, given my background in Literary Sciences, but, you're already going above and beyond! You took my explanation, and adapted it into your own framework. Marvelous."
Heather beamed at the praise, straightening her back, slowly allowing herself to take up more space within the room.
"Awesome. I just have to assume it works that way, unless I was able to research one up close. I doubt I'll get the chance though, given the amount of fucking paperwork I have assigned."
Luca hadn't expected the inaugural book club meeting to go quite like this — he had mentally prepared for a number of scenarios, none of which included this weird little wonder of a researcher. I wonder…
"Well, if you're interested, I might be able to get you reassigned to a little side project I'm wo—"
"Yes." Heather interjected, a strange boldness in her voice. "Please." With just a hint of desperation.
"I'll see what I can do."
Despite the typically monotonous and glacial speed of the bureaucracy that was The Foundation, Luca was able to get Heather temporarily reassigned to his personal project; half of the process was tracking down her supervisor. As the brilliant mind from the well-funded Applied Ontokinetics department struggled to remember an actually talented researcher, Luca waited patiently. After a painful amount of time, he finally remembered who Heather was, and was more than happy to pawn her off, even temporarily.
Luca wasn't impressed.
He'd gotten into the Literary Sciences department main study room early, in preparation for Heather's arrival this morning.
What do we think? More books, or less? What says — oh, I'm a scholar and this is my domain, but also isn't too intimidating… are the scrolls too much? Unfortunately for Luca, his musing was interrupted when a storm cloud entered the room; Heather, hood pulled over her shoulder length hair, and a scowl on her face.
"Had a bad night?" Luca inquired, unsure how to respond.
"Coffee." Heather muttered in a terse reply.
I knew she was a coffee girl. Luca reached behind him, and offered a still-warm cup of coffee that he had picked up this morning in preparation. "I don't know how you take your coffee, so I left it bl—"
"Black is fine." Heather interrupted, before she took a large swig of the coffee, enjoying the smell of the fresh brew. "Sorry about that. Couldn't sleep last night."
"Were you worried about something?" Luca asked, sensing another wayward soul in need of nurturing. She is just around a decade older than Meri. Maybe I can try to arrange a playdate…
Luca's distraction was quickly ended when Heather finished the mug of coffee and finally replied. "No, not worried."
"What was it then?"
"I couldn't stop thinking about the idea of using a hermeneutic to your advantage. Could somebody prepare themselves and make sure that they almost… superimposed their control onto the hermeneutic, changing it at will instead of on the initial trigger? I don't know if you would know, but you've dealt with them in person, right?"
Luca shifted slightly, feeling the back of his shirt straining ever-so-slightly. A shiver ran through his feathers. Come on, let's get these particular protuberances back under control, no need to panic.
"Yes, you can say that. And I can confirm that the right individual can exert extra control over a hermeneutic, although it is rare, and depends on the class of hermeneutic."
"Right," Heather nodded, "I forgot about the different classes."
I bet she could be a force unto her own one day. Luca thought, smiling at the Junior Researcher he had just taken under his wing. That is, of course, with the proper guidance.
"No matter. Now, I got distracted but, allow me to welcome you into the Literary Science's primary study room, or as I like to call it, The Booknook." That one got a chuckle out of Heather. Smiling even wider, Luca continued. "It's pretty simple, we have worktables, shelf after shelf of esoteric books and non-anomalous reference texts, Foundation standard terminals, and best of all, that corner over there is mine!"
Heather looked around the room with an appraising eye. I still can't fucking believe I walked in here like a teenager. I know my hormones are throwing me off, but, come on girl, at least try to be professional?
She took everything in; the room was large, but not massively so. Everything was the same dull grey and white concrete that permeated the rest of Site-19. Everything, except Luca's corner, which he had painted a soft light blue. Robin egg blue, maybe?
The tables were in a large central atrium, each dark wooden desk spanning eight feet, at least. They were old, heavy, and clashed desperately with the brutalist architecture. The discrepancy amused Heather. You know what? I think I could get accustomed to a workspace like this.
"So? What do you think?" Luca prompted, at which point Heather belatedly realized that she had been mentally somewhere else.
"I got lost in my thoughts." Thankfully, Luca seemed to give her a knowing look, so she continued with renewed confidence. "This is way better than the small offices I usually see."
"I think so too." Luca turned, and began heading in the direction of his desk. "Come along now, I have something I want you to take a look at."
Right, come on, Heather. You need to make a good impression. Who knows what will happen if you fuck this up, do you really think you can just crawl back to that idiot? Heather's mind raced through possibilities as she followed Luca over to his desk.
"Take a look at what I have on the computer." Luca said, offering her the desk chair. She sat, and pulled the seat in.
"Uhhh… that is… well… that's a very cute picture of your… deer person?" Heather stuttered, unable to find the right words to describe the girl in the picture. She looked to be a normal teenager, maybe 16 or 17, but with deer-like features, ears and antlers, and fur covering her body. She was wearing a flower crown, and grinning ear to ear.
"Oh." Luca said, leaning over to shuffle the mouse. "That's just my screensaver — That’s Meri, she’s very important to me. Technically I’m her uncle, but it’s a very long story." Luca said, chuckling at his unintelligible joke.
I still don't understand his sense of humor, but maybe I can fake it? Heather let out a pitiful laugh, but thankfully, Luca's reaction told her that it was appreciated.
"Okay, right, here's the document I wanted you to take a look at."
pnwExplorer82739 09/20/16 (Tue) 21:17:54 #65932613
Hey everybody, I was hiking up just west of Stevens Pass, by the old abandoned rail lines, when I heard something… following me in the woods.
I didn't know what to think, I don't fully believe in monsters, but you all have shown me the truth, and I can't help but think that I almost ran into something. There was tons of graffiti, talking about the 'Iron Goat'. Does anybody have more information?
greebly 09/20/16 (Tue) 21:47:22 #65932614
lmao goated
rentonwatch006 09/21/16 (Wed) 02:11:46 #65932617
hey there pnwexplorer, yeah, i've heard about the legend of the iron goat before, but it was a while ago. i remember vague pieces of the story, but it's all muddled thanks to time
here is what i do remember:
- the iron goat was there long before the railroad ever existed
- it's a friendly nature spirit that protects the pass
- you can see the iron goat if you bring it some scrap metal
like i said, idk, i don't remember much, but hopefully that helps
hunter2937201 09/21/16 (Wed) 11:05:56 #65932633
What? No way, that's not the right story. The Iron Goat is actually just a man, a settler who got lost near the pass and was separated from his group. The snow was blowing wildly, and he could barely see two feet in front of him. He saw the mouth of a tunnel up ahead, and thanking his lucky stars, made a beeline towards it. And then WHAM, a train hit him head on, sending the body tumbling into the woods. It was so snowy out that the conductor didn't even notice…
They say he still walks those rails, hoping to save the next victim from his grisly fate…
bigfootisamilf 09/21/16 (Wed) 17:30:16 #65932645
No way. The Iron Goat is just that; a goat made out of iron.
My grandad told me stories when I was growing up about the time he met it while hunting out there. He saw something moving in a bush, just out of sight — thinking it was a deer, he took aim with his rifle and fired!
He ran over to the bush, and what he saw shocked him to his core. A goat, organic but not, rusted and made of a hard, rigid metal. His spent bullet sat on the ground, having glanced off of the beast like it was nothing. The Iron Goat turned, looked my grandfather dead in the eyes, a devilish red glow where its eyeballs should be. It roared at him, lunging forward and SNAP took a bite right out of his rifle. My grandfather ran as fast as he could, and never went back.
He might have the gun still, I'll have to ask him…
"So?" Luca asked once Heather had finished reading the thread. "What do you think?"
Heather paused for a moment, considering what he was really asking. She couldn't decide, so she chose to answer every way she could.
"I think that they're a bunch of losers, mediocre writers, at best — there's no way that any version of this is actually accurate, hell, I fucking grew up in Redmond and I've never heard of the 'Legend of The Iron Goat' or whatever campfire stories they've made up. You want a big metal goat? Try Spokane." Heather paused, catching her breath momentarily, before continuing with the same fervor. "But if you're asking about what I think is going on, other than the few individuals who are making shit up? There are enough similarities between the experiences, but each is significantly different, but personal to the individual who 'met' the Iron Goat. You think that it's a hermeneutic, right?"
Luca stared at the formerly introverted junior researcher as she ranted, going through every permutation of what she thought about what she had read. When he had first met Heather at the book club, she was drawn into herself, almost trying to make her presence as unnoticeable as possible; now she was speaking wildly with her hands and punctuating her thoughts with physicality.
She's… she's literally 'opening up' to me. Luca kept his laughter to himself, and continued to listen. When Heather had finally finished, he smiled brightly at her.
"I knew there was more to you than just a Junior Researcher. Exactly right, I believe that 'The Legend of The Iron Goat' is an urban legend, but one that was created through the existence of a hermeneutic. I've theorized for years that folklore, urban legends and fairytales all have origins deeply rooted in hermeneutics, and the reinterpretations of reality that so closely mimics the evolution of stories, rumors and mythos as they spread from individual to individual. I've seen a hermeneutic inspiring stories and fairytales; but if we can track this down, then we can potentially find concrete evidence of an urban legend that comes from a hermeneutic, opening an entirely new field of research. For example, with a cryptid like 'The Mothman', is it a cryptozoological anomaly, or was it created through a hermeneutic? Did it evolve and change to adapt, or was it changed by the narrative?"
Luca had carefully watched Heather during his spiel, expecting to see the typical glazing over of the eyes, the distracted and blank looks to appear on her face, the annoyance at having to listen to a librarian wax poetic about the implications of a single sentence; but he was wrong. No, where he had expected boredom, he saw an intensity that he had only seen a few times before.
"So," Heather asked, her voice tense and low, "Let's go find ourselves the 'Iron Goat'."
In the garden. He remembered, She has the same look in her eyes as he did, the bastard. They both felt the same; trapped in who they were. She's going to seize her narrative.
Luca knew that there would be one of two outcomes for a person like Heather; skyrocketing success and a masterful level of expertise, or she would run hot, burn out and fade into nothingness. He would do his best to mentor her, but… he had watched too many brilliant talents get chewed up and spit out by the cogs that were The Foundation.
I hope she beats the odds.
2019
"Now that's the woman I know and love: loud, rambling and a genius." Lillian said, leaning in closer to Heather.
"You're bored." Heather challenged.
"What? Heather, how could you? This is a fascinating story, I really liked the part where you talked about books." The sarcasm was barely concealed; a dare, tempting a response.
"I think," Heather said breathily, nearing her girlfriend, grazing the lobe of her ear, "You just have something… else on your mind."
"Fuck." Lillian whispered, drawing out the vowel and biting her lip. She began to turn, leaning in and moving to kiss Heather and—
Heather put her finger on Lillian's lips, stopping her in her tracks. Lillian narrowed her eyes in response.
"Patience, my sweet." Heather teased. "You'll get your reward later. Now, I can tell you're bored, but if you really want to understand the story, to feel the hermeneutic? You need to listen. Let me skip ahead."
Lillian was stunned, if only for the moment. Not many women could do that to her; if Heather had her way, she would be the only woman who did.
Lillian wanted Heather to have her way. So she just nodded, and listened.
2016
It was a crisp and cold fall day, the memories of the warmer seasons having been replaced with falling leaves, bone-chilling breezes, and a smell in the air that Heather loved. God it smells like the woods… obviously, girl, you're in the fucking woods.
She looked over at her companion, Luca, who stuck out like a sore thumb. He was dressed like a boy scout; if boy scouts carried large reference tomes with them deep in the woods. His knees said 'we never go outside', but the cargo shorts he had on screamed 'be prepared!'
All in all, Luca looked firmly out of place, and he knew it.
"So, Heather, do you go hiking a lot?" He asked, ending the comfortable quiet the two had been enjoying on their walk. They had met this morning at the foot of the Iron Goat Trail, and began the hike to the general area where the Iron Goat had last been spotted. The progress was slow, but steady.
"Not really?" Heather replied, blowing some hair out of her face. "I used to go hiking a lot with my mom, back before I got hired by The Foundation. Now, I don't really have any spare time."
"I understand that. Do you know that I used to play the french horn?" Luca asked.
"No. But also, I did just meet you a few days ago." Heather said, grinning.
"Ahh, so you did." Luca nodded, "Well, back when I was just starting out at The Foundation, I used to play the french horn daily. I would practice my favorite concertos, fugues, music that allowed me to express the emotions that I had pent up from the day's drudgery; all of that changed after the Garden." He looked away, pretending to consult his map.
'The Garden'? You shouldn't pry Heather, that would be rude. Sometimes, we ignore our internal voices; Heather, more often than most. "Was that just a regular garden, ooh, maybe it was 'The Secret Garden'?"
Luca chuckled. "In a way, I suppose, it was a secretive garden… Aha! Heather, look over there!" Luca was pointing through the trees in the general direction of… nothing.
"Where?" Heather asked, worrying that there was a memetic effect already beginning.
"The railroad tracks; they're just over to our left, on the ground."
Ah. That would do it then. Once she knew what she was looking for, Heather immediately located the rails, following them with her eyes, and noting a tunnel mouth in the distance.
"Do you think we're close to the Iron Goat?" She asked, deferring to the expert. Unfortunately for her, Luca stared back at her blankly.
"To be honest, I'm not quite sure." Luca frowned, looking at the map he had prepared before they arrived. It had markers of the estimated locations of sightings, giving them a general, but large area to search within. "Frankly, even if we are in the right place, I don't know what the next step is."
Oh right. In all of their excitement to get out here and find the anomaly, neither had considered what they would do when they actually got here.
"Shit. I thought you had a plan." Heather said, embarrassed. I just figured, with that many pockets…
"And I hoped one would spring into my mind fully formed once we neared; alas, the muses must be avoiding me today." Luca chuckled to himself, then continued. "Anyways, let's walk to the tunnel mouth first, and go from there?"
Heather nodded. That would at least give her a bit more time to zone out and figure out their next steps.
Hopefully.
Luca and Heather stood in front of a large tunnel entrance; the train used to run right through the mountains, concrete and cramped. Not unlike the hallways at Site-19, Luca thought, bemusedly.
He turned and looked at Heather, who was still lost in her thoughts. "So," he prompted, "what do you think?"
Heather took a second, but her focus stirred as she evaluated the tunnel and looked at Luca.
"Well, I was thinking."
"I could tell." He teased, much like an uncle would.
"Right. Anyways, I was thinking about the encounters that people had with the Iron Goat, and I noticed a pattern. All of the stories that were shared, well, they were stories that had been told to another person. Almost like—"
"Like a form of oral folklore and local storytelling traditions?" Luca finished, realizing where Heather's mind went. Interesting. Using narrative to find the hermeneutic.
"Exactly. So that made me think; if we just keep walking, I doubt we'll find it. But, what if we make up a new story?" She asked, a devilish grin on her face.
"We make a new story?" Luca asked, the cogs in his head spinning. "Right, then we should get back to the Site and start writing." He began to spin and walk away, but Heather was not following.
"No." She said, tersely, before continuing.
"An urban legend is the same as a campfire story; it's a story told verbally to another, not written down, but one that morphs over time as the storytellers change. What if we just told each other "The Legend of the Iron Goat", but shifted the meaning, causing it to… appear?"
Heather trailed off as she got to the end, the same inner doubt creeping back into her voice.
Luca was thoroughly impressed. "That's brilliant. Narrate away, protégé." He asked, gesturing for her to lead the way into the tunnels. They both took out flashlights, and entered. Neither could know what lay ahead of them, but maybe, they could change that.
"Have you ever heard the Legend of the Iron Goat?" Heather asked aloud, a few minutes into the tunnel. She had been racing in her mind, trying to figure out the best way to frame the narrative, to tell the story, to redefine the idea; after a few minutes of panic, she finally felt like she had a solid plan.
"Oh, is this a call and response? Or was that rhetorical?" Luca asked, his large floppy hat rendered useless by the fact that they were in a sunless tunnel.
"Either way?" Heather shrugged, and continued. "Well, it happened long ago, on a day just like today."
"Spooky indeed."
"There was a work crew; ten of the strongest men the nearby towns had to offer. There was a problem in the tunnels, a cave-in, and the rail company had dispatched them to clear the blockage before the next train was due. The pressure was on, and the time left was getting shorter by the second."
A dull sound echoed through the tunnels, reverberating and sending a shiver down Heather's back. The hair stood up on her arms. Maybe I'm doing something right.
"The blockage was deep in the mountain; most of the men grew up in the area, but the foreman was older than most and had lived nearby for a long time. The men heard a noise; a rough, grinding sound of metal shearing against itself, an animalistic cry fused with industry. The foreman stopped dead in his tracks."
"I like the direction." Luca looked around the tunnel quizzically, as if trying to infer something ineffable. He looked at Heather and asked, "So what happened next?"
"The other men turned and asked 'Why are you stopping? Afraid of a little bit of rock?' The foreman shook his head, and said 'No. I fear the beast that calls these tunnels home.'"
An ear-splitting roar echoed through the tunnels, as Heather and Luca quickly covered their ears. It was the sound of metal grinding against itself, the cry of a beast long dormant.
The Iron Goat.
After the sound faded, Luca broke the silence first. "Well, it appears that you were correct. Let us continue, but keep your guard up." Heather nodded back, continuing to tell the tale.
"The foreman explained to the other men that there was once a creature, almost a goat, but not quite. There was something wrong, something otherworldly; something dangerous about this goat. The story goes that one day a hunter came to claim a new trophy; he had tracked the beast to the mouth of the tunnel, and chased it further inside. It was a cornered animal, and the hunter had no idea what he was about to face."
Both Luca and Heather cocked their heads, hearing a quiet, rhythmic noise from deep within the dark recesses of the tunnel.
"Do you think it's a train?" Heather asked.
"No, the train hasn't run in decades." Luca said, shaking his head in concern. "Maybe we should turn back and return with an MTF?"
"And miss out on the discovery? I don't know about you, but I would rather see and discover an anomaly, rather than finding a corpse." Heather snorted in derision, thinking of how the Mobile Task Force agents had treated her at Site-19. "We can do this, right?"
"Alright. But at the first sign of danger, we're getting out of here."
Heather nodded, as the two edged deeper and deeper into the abyssal tunnels.
"The Hunter had the beast trapped, and he finally laid his eyes on the monster: it was a goat, larger than life, thick dark fur and a dangerous look in its eyes. It began to slowly advance on the Hunter, who grabbed a cord off of the ground. You see, the Hunter had planned in advance - he only cared about the kill, and didn't want to risk a bullet grazing the beast. He had set up explosives, set to detonate when the cord was lit; it would explode into a storm of shrapnel, slaying the beast and allowing the Hunter to claim his reward. He waited, biding his time until the monster was in place. It approached slowly. Clop. Clop. Clop. Its cloven hooves echoed through the tunnels, a steady timer until the Hunter would win."
The sound was getting closer to Heather and Luca now. Are those… no, it's just a story, right? The realization hit Heather, who felt like an idiot. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, why the fuck did I make this a horror story?
Luca saw the concern on Heather's face, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head. "No, but what are we going to do? We're this far, now we need to…"
"Finish the story." Luca picking up where Heather had trailed off.
"Right."
The rhythmic thudding was getting closer, just out of sight, but dangerously close.
"The beast was finally in place; with a flash, the Hunter lit the cord and— boom! The metal exploded, flying through the air, a storm of iron careening right at the beast. Now, the Hunter couldn't have know this, but the creature he was hunting had a… unique trait. He watched as the shrapnel hit the goat, but— instead of felling the target, it seemed to dissolve as it hit the goat. The metal melting, being absorbed by the former prey. The Hunter panicked, pulling out his rifle and quickly firing off multiple rounds; they didn't even do so much as stunning the beast, disappearing on contact as it advanced further onto him. It finally came into the light, and he could see the beast properly. This was no goat; it towered over him, a hulking beast made of metal, the iron sculpted and shaped around it's body. No, the Hunter realized, it was the creature. The Iron Goat was just that; a goat made of iron, forged in the deepest pits of hell."
The sounds that echoed through the tunnel changed; at first neither researcher noticed, but an echoing metallic ringing stopped them in their tracks. The sound of metal stomping onto metal. The sound of the Iron Goat.
"Did that do it?" Heather asked, looking to Luca for the answers. Unfortunately for them both, Luca was drawing a blank.
"I'm unsure. If it did, I fear that we may have made a beast unlike any I have faced before." The look on Luca's face was grim, sobering Heather and panicking her to the core.
"What are we going to do?" Heather asked, the noise of the Iron Goat getting closer and closer.
Luca shook his head. "Hope for the best, and begin our retreat. I know this wasn't a huge success, but we did confirm that we are able to shift the meaning of the urban legend through storytelling. That is more than sufficient evidence to suggest that this is, in fact, a hermeneutic."
"Right." Heather said, unsure, but trusting her senior.
They turned and began to make their way towards the exit but— the sound was gaining on them, getting closer and closer with each second.
"Do we start running?" Heather asked, half-serious, half-panicking. If I fucking die in a cave, I'm going to kick my ghost ass for all eternity.
"There has never been a situation made better by—" Luca froze, cutting himself off and putting out an arm to stop Heather. They were nearing a fork in the tunnel that they had passed earlier. Now, just around the bend, the footsteps returned. Louder. Metal crashing against the rock with every step. Closer, and closer still.
The two were silent, frozen and each trying to think their way out of this situation. Oh god, what the fuck do I do? I… I fucking killed us, just because I got too caught up in telling the story. I fucking made it even more dangerous, god damn it!
Suddenly, the noise stopped. The beast's final step echoed through the tunnel before fading into an unnatural and deadly stillness. The two researchers shared an uncertain look; after a beat, Heather spoke.
"Do you think we'r—"
The beast lunged out of the pitch black darkness, the crashing force of metal charging towards Heather, just feet away. She didn't have the time to dodge, let alone the skills to do so.
Fuck. This is the end. Fucking overconfidence. The morbid realization hit her: these would be her final thoughts. She closed her eyes tight, and waited.
But the blow never came. Instead, metal crashed against metal, a reverent chime echoing through, a glow that was visible through her shut eyes. She slowly opened them and—
What the fuck is going on?
Luca Armaros, the Director of Literary Sciences at Site-19, the quiet, geeky man she had grown to know over the past few days, stood in front of her, a shimmering, shifting blade in his hand. He seemed to be glowing, a light blue pulsating around him — in the air, translucent wings floated behind him, an intangible span of feathers blocking the way between her and the beast. The sword had clashed against the Iron Goat, but it was locked in a stalemate.
"Are you okay?" Luca called out, grunting and straining to hold back the beast. The Iron Goat's jaws clamped down on the blade, teeth grinding and ending at the hilt, showering sparks across the floor of the tunnel. She caught brief glances of the two, sparks lighting the tunnel with each hit — Luca using the entirety of his will to hold the Goat back, straining with effort. Black smog coiled out from the Goat’s nostrils, spilling onto the floor; it wrenched down on him with all of its tremendous weight, but he held firm.
"Wh— Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, but, uhhh, what the fuck is going on?" Heather yelled, having lost complete control of herself. "Are you holding a fucking sword?"
"Long story, but, I don't know how much longer I can—" Luca was interrupted when the beast reared back and stomped, rusted feet plummeting towards him. He quickly rolled to the side, slashing across his body with the weapon, sparks shooting out as metal wrenched against metal. Luca seemed to glow with an unnatural light, a satisfied look on his face. But if was for naught; the Iron Goat roared, flinching back, but showed no sign of damage.
"What the fuck do we do now?" Heather asked, her hands shaking as she tried to think. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
"Do something, try to shift the narrative!" Luca said, out of breath, clashing with the beast; they seemed to alternate, each taking a swing, but neither gaining an edge. Luca was not quite graceful, but intentional; the Iron Goat was fierce, and unrelenting. The two were evenly matched.
"Give it a weakness, a flaw, something! I need you to figure this out, I have to focus on—" In his distraction, Luca had let his guard down momentarily. The beast sensed his weakness, and swung its head to attack. Gnarled, twisted, corroded horns connected with Luca's torso, and in a sharp *crack*, he was flung against the wall with a sickening thud. His backpack cushioned the blow, but the impact still knocked the wind out of him. He lay there.
Motionless.
The beast turned it's attention to Heather, and began advancing on its prey.
Figure something out? Sure, easy enough, I'll figure out how to stop the Iron Goat, because, apparently, not only do you have a magic fucking sword, but, somehow, that's still not enough to kill it. What the fuck am I going to—
And then a thought popped into Heather's mind. She didn't know where it came from, or why she made the realization, but she knew that she had to trust her gut. I need to… I need to keep telling the story.
"The men looked at the foreman askance, his tale far too fanciful to be true. They laughed, as the foreman looked at the ground sheepishly." Heather paused, waiting for something to change. Nothing did.
Shit, still nothing. The beast continued to advance on her. If I can't undo this, then…
Another idea. Trusting herself, she continued, Luca still dazed and out of the fight.
"Suddenly, the men were surprised when a loud crash echoed through the tunnels, reverberating and shaking the rock around them; it was the beast, drawing nearer." Heather was retreating further into the tunnel, the Iron Goat stalking her with each deafening step it took. It was gaining on her, and she didn't have much time left.
"But no. It wasn't the beast. It was the tunnel itself, roaring in pain, shaking as rocks overhead began to loosen, threatening to fall. The ground rumbled, as the men panicked, trying to escape a grisly demise." Heather was running out of breath, and tucked into a small alcove, trying to hide. She continued, in a whisper.
"The rocks shook overhead, dust filling the tunnels. Stones had fallen in, blocking their path back to the surface. Looking around, they nodded to each other, accepting their untimely fate."
The Iron Goat was almost upon her. She heard the grinding as its limbs rubbed against its body, shrrnk, shrrnk. The beast exhaled, forcefully, like a steam engine at full speed. It was almost on her.
I fucking hope this works. Heather thought, knowing that if she was wrong, then this was it.
"The rocks finally gave way, falling towards the men. They cowered, but— the rocks never hit."
She saw the Iron Goat now, its horizontal, rectangular, glowing pupils seeing her as well. There was a moment of shared recognition; an animal, backed into a corner, fighting for survival. A monster, but only to those who saw them as one. A survivor, because the rest of the world hated them. They were the same.
"The men opened their eyes. Above them stood the beast, but, it was nothing like the foreman had described. It was metal, yes, but, the men felt no ill-intent. No hatred, no anger, no danger. The beast was no mindless creature; it was a protector. A guardian of the tunnels. A beast of the rails. An unexpected friend."
The Iron Goat was inches from her face now, the warm, metallic breath billowing over her face. Heather froze.
Neither moved. It was silent in the tunnels.
What is it waiting for? Did I… Heather had to know. She began to slowly reach her hand out, inching closer towards the beast's snout. It watched her hand with caution, but did not move. She felt the power of the beast, thrumming through the air, infusing the world around it. She realized something. The Iron Goat is… it's a story. It is a hermeneutic. I can almost… feel it?
Heather hadn't realized when she did, but as she came out of her thoughts, she realized that her hand was resting directly on the head of the Iron Goat. She felt a power pulsing through it, a primal surge of creation and mythos coursing through the beast. It was a force of nature. Not malicious, not dangerous, simply, a reflection of the stories that were told.
It was what others saw it as. Like me. Heather thought, frowning. What if somebody tells the story again, about the dangerous beast? Will that just—
As if sensing her thoughts, the creature snorted, bobbing it's head. It's eyes looked back at her with an intense longing. The desire to play a role different than the one it had been cast in. Heather didn't know what she was going to do, but she had to try something.
She closed her eyes, and tried to feel the Iron Goat. Her mind raced, and she felt almost transported to a space between this reality and somewhere abstract; the world of thoughts. She could see the Iron Goat in her mind, a hulking behemoth of iron and embers, trapped and chained, forced — forced to become the villain, the danger, the killer that stalks the rails. I can't… I have to change this.
She followed the chains with her mind. They twisted, winding through the sea of thoughts, growing and coalescing into a single chain of massive links, connected to a singular, monolithic rock. Heather considered the stone that she visualized in her mind, and frowned. It's… this is the cause. This is why everybody tells the story of it being a monster.
She felt an idea pulsating out of the stone. Enemy. She thought, no— she knew.
But what could she do? She couldn't sever these chains, she couldn't break them; she knew that instinctually, trusting herself. But if she couldn't break the chains, then maybe she could…
I can change them.
She opened her eyes, and stared into the pleading face of the Iron Goat, her fear now replaced by sympathy. Heather knew what she had to do.
"You, Iron Goat, are no longer an enemy. You are not the shadows stalking the innocent, the beast threatening the night, the danger that lurks in these tunnels. No. You are, and always will be, the protector. The guardian of the rails. The force of nature that exists to help those who are in danger."
For a moment, it felt like she and the beast were breathing in synchronicity. A connection was formed, irreversible, unchanging, but sorely welcomed. The world shifted around the two, reality warping as The Legend of the Iron Goat evolved, shedding its shackles and glowing, a redefinition. No, not a redefinition.
A rebirth.
Luca awoke with a panic and shot upright, looking around, searching for his foe. He didn't think, instinctively ready to protect, ready to fight.
The literary guardian's instincts were interrupted with a new source of fear — the metal cloven hoofs rang through the tunnel, approaching him with each passing second. His weapon appeared in his hand, surging with power. Shrugging off his backpack, pulsating light blue and white wings pushed out of his shirt, ripping the fabric as they stretched out to size, flexing under his control.
He readied himself, and then began to charge the beast, intent on ending this once and for all.
Of course, Luca couldn't have dreamed up the sight he saw before him.
There was Heather, bruised, dirty, scrapes and cuts all over; but she was alive. She rode on the back of— of the Iron Goat. It was then Luca felt a familiar feeling, one that told him he had been right.
Heather had shifted the meaning. She had seized the narrative, and taken control of the story. She rewrote the Iron Goat's fate, and in doing so, saved them both.
I fear for the researchers at the Site that finally promotes her. She is a force of nature.
"Oh hey." Heather said, exhausted, but casually. "Did you always have those wings, or?"
"For long enough." Luca replied, still feeling exposed when others learn that he, too, was a hermeneutic. Heather held out a hand, reaching down to Luca. He retracted his wings, and reached out.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, huh?" Heather said, grinning as she did. Luca just shook his head, and climbed aboard.
Once the two made their way back to the surface, they had said their goodbyes to the Iron Goat, who bleated at them before returning to the tunnels from whence it came. They returned to the site; in a panic over Heather's superficial injuries, Luca had decided to fly them back.
As the two soared through the air, Heather absentmindedly asked Luca a question. "So. Was that enough evidence?"
"Yes, Heather, that was more than enough evidence." He replied, his mind racing. He and Heather are alike, and yet… they are both walking a fine line, a delicate dance between light and complete chaos.
As Heather laughed, enjoying the thrill of the flight, Luca smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that she lived in the light.
Because if she can, maybe Meri can rewrite her own fate.
It had been a few weeks since their fateful encounter with the Iron Goat, and Heather had fully recovered from the ordeal. The paperwork had been filed, the anomaly's file updated accordingly, and things had finally calmed down to the normal.
Unfortunately for Heather, the normal was pretty fucking boring here.
She stopped in front of a door, and smiled. She knocked once, and then pushed it open; waiting for her was Luca, an array of tables, and snacks all around. It was the 28th, and it was time for Book Club.
She smiled; maybe, just maybe, she could carve out her own little place in the world.
And maybe I can even… redefine myself.
2019
"And that's the end?" Lillian asked, staring at Heather with interest.
"Yep! That's the end of the story. That day changed the course of my life; it helped me understand memetics, not just alone, but in the context of ideas and the noosphere. It inspired me to seize control and begin to change my life." Heather paused, staring lovingly into her girlfriend's eyes. "It led to me meeting you."
The two women kissed, unbridled joy and passion filling the room. It was everything Lillian wanted at that moment; but then the moment passed, and she realized that she still had more questions.
"Hey, wait a fucking second." Lillian said, pulling away from Heather.
"Hmmm?"
"You told me a massive fucking story about the legend of the big dicked metal monster and talked in so much fucking detail about the literary details of Les Misérables, but you never actually answered my question. What's the story behind the book?"
"Right," Heather replied sheepishly, pushing the hair out of Lillian's face. She was adorable when she pouted. "When I finally left Site-19, Luca gave me this book. It was his copy, the one he had brought to book club. He gave it to me, as a memory of the time I spent at Site-19, and to help me remember that we can always change our fates. We just have to try."
Lillian leaned back into her girlfriend's arms, sighing into them. "Alright, fine, that was a pretty good story."
"I know it was." Heather remarked smarmily. "So what do you want to do next?"
Both women had the same thought; the world was theirs, the future just waiting to be written.