The Garden of Everything

Why must everyone rely so heavily on things that can only be seen?

It baffled him.

As he sat, the tree's bark biting gently into his back and head, his violin sitting patiently atop its case, a vine materialized near his head, twisting its way gently down the tree trunk.

The supple "whap!" of bamboo hitting flesh reaching his ears, he felt something smooth and cool brush gently against his face.

He reached up, running his thumb over the waxy vine, down the thin, wiry stems, and over a plump, smooth-skinned fruit a little bigger than his thumb.

Plucking it delicately, he let it pass his lips and broke the thin skin, letting the sweet juice leak out of the perfectly succulent fruit. Even better than the grapes he enjoyed at Engel's family orchard.

Matt plucked another grape, enjoying his snack that materialized out of nowhere as events unfolded around him that he could only hear.

Lena smirked, her features forming an amused expressions. At least, she assumed it was an amused expression, that was the emotion that immediately crossed her mind as she watched Asau berate Malcolm. It was quite funny to see the young man so obviously entranced by her... assets.

She almost forgot why she'd been sent here. However she was supposed to 'become one with nature,' she supposed she had to start somewhere. The old man said magic was in everything, and all she had to do was focus and she'd be able to sense it. But harnessing it, that was a different story. You had to take magic in, breathe it like it was air, before it could be used for anything.

Her amused expression became a frown as she pulled off her cloak. Her wings and tail, wrapped around her and transformed by what was left of her innate powers, gave the appearance of rather skimpy (and ineffective) battle armor. The black material covered enough to avoid offense in the magical world, but mundanes tended to be more prudish in their dress codes. Though, judging from Asau, that wasn't really the issue here.

Folding her cloak on the ground, Lena crossed her legs and planted her rump on the cloth, closing her eyes and folding her hands in her lap. Simply sensing magic was easy enough, she could do that. There was plenty here. But to draw it in? That was the challenge, now wasn't it?

(There was a post here. But I felt really tired when writing it and worried that it might read like nonsense to you. Oh well, let's pretend my post here does exist. See Clowns' response below to get the gist of what I did. )

edited 18th May '11 5:06:19 PM by QQQQQ

QQQQQ's character decided turnabout was fair play, and gave Asau a hearty shove straight into the pond.

As she pulled herself from the pond, Asau said, "I'd complain, but I admit I deserved that. It's so much funnier when I do it, though..." she thought about it, then amended, "funnier for me, anyways." She chuckled, and then bowed politely to Julia. "Julia, was it? So, you got an interesting story behind you? You from around here? You seem to have a feel for this place." It seemed to be connected to her, somehow — Asau had a few ideas about how to test her theory, but best not to do anything too rash yet. For now she'd see what she could make of this mysterious woman in the flowing dress.

edited 18th May '11 6:13:52 PM by KillerClowns

Julia gave a lightly grin, wiping her arms free from the splash of water. "I remember now why I'm here," she said. "Usually when I'm dreaming, it's difficult to tell if I am awake or not. The thought doesn't come to me. But I see you folks frolicking about, you Asau start talking about fight discipline and you're all speaking words— words! That's weird, because the dream people I talk to don't speak with words.."

She took some steps back, her bare feet scrunching on the grass, glancing at everyone around. The implications of what she had said began to hit her fully. Calm Julia, she told herself. You are cuddled underneath your two-layer comforters, clutching your stuffed Meddy Mere(R) in your arms. If it all turns into a nightmare, you can always pinch yourself awake.

"You know what," she went, "screw playing about with dream physics. I'll tell you the boring details of my life. My name is Julia Danvers, and I'm a 33-year old programmer stuck living in a shite cramped apartment, earning a shite pay as carpal tunnel syndrome pains my wrists doing shite typing in a shite cubicle. That's mostly it. I'm nothing special compared to you blokes. If I asked one of you for your life stories, you'll come up with something infinitely more interesting — after all, you're figments of my wandering imagination. Might as well have a nice chat."

edited 18th May '11 5:33:51 PM by QQQQQ

Asau burst into laughter. Realizing this might seem odd, she explained, "my friend Rachel would love to trade lives with you. Love to. She has this curse, you see. Means that weird things happen to her. Constantly. Usually it just involved run-of-the-mill crazies deciding she was worth talking, but lately it's been involving a terrifyingly long list of terrorist groups, evil mages, and conspiracies."

Her voice turning serious, Asau cautioned, "a boring life is a privilege you take for granted. Ask yourself, when was the last time you found yourself wondering where your next meal would come from, or genuinely feared to leave your home, lest some desperate thug — or worse, your own government — make you disappear? Consider this."

Asau waited a time for her words to sink in, then, returning to her playful tone, said, "oh, and another question. If this is a dream, I'm a part of your mind. So, I could use a laugh. Tell me, what part of your mind do I represent?"

"Ahahahaha." Julia managed to imitate Asau's sardonic laugh quite well. "You know, I wouldn't mind a body swap with your Rachel. Her exciting life of wacky adventures, I'll take her quests any day over another line of C## and bitter coffee. Pwheh. You don't know how much of a torture on your nerves it gets. It's like some mind-numbing drill digging deeper into your will to live.. oh wait, you do. In fact, let me tell you I'll be glad to solve her conspiracy problems anyday. Where is she anyways.

"I suppose you might represent the aggressive, confrontational aspect of me. You seem so outspoken here when in reality I have to suppress you, lest my boss fire me with a bang. Nobody likes a whiner. We're all cogs of a machine, you realize, and we're all easily replaceable if we ever protest."

edited 18th May '11 6:01:40 PM by QQQQQ

He was satisfied now, having had his fill of grapes.

Matt opened his violin case and gingerly set his instrument inside for now, its bow accompanying it. Carrying his case over his shoulder, he let his cane help him over to the sound of Julia's voice, speaking not of ideas, but of words.

An odd sensation, it was. How does one go about describing a nondescript voice that does not speak using words?

He joined them nonetheless.

In case it was not immediately obvious, Matt is one of Vinicio Acquati's three sons. He looks a good deal like his father as a young man.

Julia saw Matt the violinist arrive, and she crossed her arms as if furious. "You must be my musical ability," she said. "Where the hell were you when I was in my 8th grade examinations? I could have passed them you know. You wouldn't be sitting at the back of my mind had you not gone off drinking with your best buddies. Dude."

edited 18th May '11 6:28:12 PM by QQQQQ

Lena opened one eye, listening to the conversation. If that's true, why am I here?

Sighing, she stood up. No point trying to figure out how to draw in magic right now. Like she was supposed to just learn that on her own? What the hell, old man, she mused. She turned to the others. "So... what part of your mind would I be?"

She felt that this was her dream world?

Heh. He took a seat and played along, giving her a sheepish smile.

"That night was quite epic, mind you."

He took a seat on the grass next to everyone crosslegged, and laid his instrument case and cane in front of him.

edited 18th May '11 6:40:54 PM by CrystalGlacia

Gant chuckled from his limpid pool, speaking while completely submerged, a trick that none in present company could replicate. "Or, programmer, you could take my sacrosanct route: grow tired even of adventuring. Find strife and dripping blood mundane, and then you may indeed find that there are terrible things under the sun."

He raised a hand above the water, letting all of it slough off before he spoke. "One gram of the dust, if it is within your constraints." A cube of compacted, bright metal landed in his palm, and Gant closed his hand over it; when it opened, there was nothing there anymore.

"Fascinating." He stood and walked ashore. "What a place this is."

Hector was peeved.

If that naked person could spontaneously cause any fruit she desired to fall from the trees, then why couldn't he?

Peach.

Nothing.

Peach, damn you.

The tree swayed slightly in the breeze, and a leaf glistening with moisture plastered itself against Hector's face.

Hector drummed his fingers against the bark in irritation. Fine, he thought.

"I would like another apple."

The red fruit tumbled out of the tree's branches and into Hector's outstretched hand.

After taking a bite and chewing the fruit's flesh, Hector paused. "Thank you," he said, nodding appreciatively.

Whispers of the conversation happening at the foot of the hill wafted over Hector's ears. A small smile graced his face. A dream?

How intriguing. If this garden was his dreamscape, and he was but a visitor lolling aimlessly on the grounds, then who was the gardener? Who were the other visitors?

In any case, he doubted that this was a dream. Landscapes that provoked apathy and inaction were not exactly typical of what Hector imagined of his subconscious.

Well, the topic of the conversation wasn't war, strife, and suffering anymore. To Hector, talking of that would mar the tranquility of the garden. The people ought to speak of peace, and speak of peace they did. Hector's smile grew marginally more smug as he held his hand out towards the apple tree expectantly; his fingers curled around another apple.

"Hey, somebody catch," he said, the wind carrying his voice over. What was discord, but an upset of the status quo? Humans needed discord, in a way, to interact. How else could they debate, and without debate, how else could they reach a meaningful conclusion?

Discord lead to suffering when humans were being petty and irrational, but the garden's people didn't strike Hector as squabbling three year olds.

The apple arced through the air towards the congregation below Hector.

edited 18th May '11 9:25:01 PM by Chubert

Swiftly, the blind man caught the apple... somehow.

A normal blind man wouldn't be able to tell that apple was flying towards him...

Maybe he shouldn'tve done that.

Matt was quite sure everyone was staring at him right now.

"Nice catch," Asau said to Matt. Then, turning her attention back to Julia, she said, "so, ma'am, here's a question." Asau retrieved her skirt, and started to dry herself with it as she asked, "what kind of adventure are you looking for?"

She wrapped the skirt around her waist. She knew of a very specific knot that made it seem as though one slight tug from an errant twig or mischievous finger would bring the whole skirt crashing down — but to the contrary, it would take nimble fingers, intent concentration, and time to remove. As she worked on the knot, she said, "because there's all sorts. You're clearly a women with problems. And I don't think you have any idea what they are, really. But I get the impression you didn't want to be a programmer when you were still a little girl. Now, me, I wanted to be a glassblower, like my father, when I was young — but my elder sister got the family business instead. Though I don't envy her now. I love my job, not going to lie. These fellows... well, if they feel like speaking for themselves, they're free to."

Satisfied with her work, she returned to the gathered crowd, and said, "but I digress." She conjured an aloon and said to Matt, "mind if I see that for a second?" Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the apple, made a brief show of examining it, and then quietly placed the aloon back in his hand, saying, "sorry, thought I saw a worm. Couldn't let you have a tasty snack like that to yourself. Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes. What do you really want to be doing right now, Ms. Julia?"

edited 18th May '11 10:04:31 PM by KillerClowns

Hector raised his eyebrows in surprise. From the cane to the violet, unseeing eyes, he had thought that the violinist was blind.

Smiling, he began clapping slowly. "Last I checked, it's a bit, eh, difficult to catch when you're blind."

Seeing that the people here were not at all lacking of little tricks of their own pleased him. Was it some form of extra-sensory perception? Was he not really blind at all? Anything could be the case. The people he was accustomed to meeting always had secrets and gimmicks lying in wait. Having surprises in this garden was like bringing a little bit of home to it.

He smirked as he saw the woman from the chatroom steal the blind man's apple. She seemed friendly enough, if a little excessively mischievous.

"Apple with a worm in it," he whispered to the tree.

When it rolled into his palms, he surreptitiously tucked it into his pocket.

"It's customary, from where I hail, that to the winner goes the spoils," he said, strolling down the hill, hands tucked behind his back. In one fluid motion, he replaced the apple in Asau's hand with his own, and tossed Matt's prize back to him.

"There's no shortage of apples, really. No need to worry," Hector said, making his way back up the hill. As he looked back, he saw Asau examining the tainted apple suspiciously.

Hastily, he added, "Though, Mr. Violinist, I would recommend that you eat yours quickly."

edited 19th May '11 5:09:09 PM by Chubert

Gant chuckled as he saw the woman switch the fruits- no doubt with a purpose born of malignity, or else of entertainment. At least none would play such tricks on him. But it grew tiresome to be isolated from the sparking vitality out there, and he stepped out of the pool, water trickling down his body in streams that soon dried away. Another day-to-day perk of undeath.

He stood, looking into the blue sky for a while, lost a thousand miles above. "Tell me, miss-" he realizes that he does not know her name. "Miss. Do you believe in fate? The fine threads in great and minor things?"

He flickered for a moment, and now held the alien fruit that the violinist had held. The blank faceplate cracked to reveal rows of sharpened teeth, and he bit into it. It tasted like... stomach juices. He'd had firsthand experience with that taste.

"Just as the fruit was bound to become mine. Or perhaps it is just luck-" another flicker, and the neatly carved, blood-like fruit lay in the woman's palm as he held the apple. "What is your angle?"

edited 19th May '11 9:44:11 AM by Morgulion

Bunch of mischievous little bastards around here, Lena thought, smirking. Part of her wanted to speak up, but another part of her liked sitting back and watching. They were an odd group, these people, full of eccentricities she wouldn't have thought possible until that day...

Shaking her head to clear the bad memories, she plucked her own apple from a nearby tree, biting into the ripe fruit. "So," she began, pointing at Asau. "You have no nudity taboo and like messing with people. You are a blind musician who won't talk enough for me to get a read on you. That guy up there is... vaguely familiar for some reason. He," she jerked her thumb at Gant. "Is... actually I'm not getting much of a read on you either. And you," she continued, pointing at Malcolm. "Are far too easily flustered. Relax a bit."

"As for me," she said, pausing. "I'm just here to learn."

Oh, come on, blind person, Hector thought, mildly irritated. Defend your prize.

The man of metal put Hector on a slight edge. The alertness that tensed his body and the searching, darting eyes that he had sought to suppress seeped back to the surface. Obviously, being made of, well, metal, the man was strange already. But water evaporated off his body like the sun burned on his body brighter than anywhere else, and his teeth seemed far too sharp than could be possibly safe...

I would like another apple, please and thank you.

As he bit into the juicy skin, Hector banished those thoughts from his mind. Maybe, in another time and another world, the two of them could be enemies, and maybe, in different circumstances, they could be allies. Now they were fellow visitors to this garden of aggressive tranquility; the garden was demanding, without uncertainty, that its visitors lay down their arms and talk on friendly terms.

He thought back to his earlier musings. Discord—the apple had changed hands three times by now. Maybe they were all inclined to bickering at heart. Self-restraint was the only barrier preventing the bickering from having actual consequences.

The woman who seemed to be wearing extremely useless armor (a cultural thing?) talked of learning. It was rare that people ever came to places like this with a specific purpose. Usually, they seemed to just come and go with nary an announcement, and when questioned about their motives...nothing.

"Learn what, and for what purpose?" Hector asked, in between bites. He vaguely recalled the succubus in the chat logs talking about becoming "one with nature." Perhaps this woman was her? "Knowledge for knowledge's sake seems to be a dying trend, for good or for bad. Though, I don't know what kind of physical knowledge you're looking for here, in a garden. Are you a botanist?"

edited 18th May '11 11:22:29 PM by Chubert

Lena smirked at the question, taking another bite of fruit. She seemed perpetually hungry, but her true hunger could not be sated in such a place.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be learning. I was obviously sent here to learn something, though, or I wouldn't be here, would I? I mean, who gets sent to a new place and doesn't learn something useful. If I wasn't here I'd be in Litus Citadel studying spell scrolls."

"So I guess what I'm getting at is my overall quest in life, though I doubt I'll find many answers in this place, and I doubt any of you have the experience needed to answer my real questions, so in all, I have to question my teacher's wisdom in sending me here. Though, he has been around nearly as long as I have, so he must know a thing or two." You don't get to be a hundred and fifty without picking up some tricks along the way. She shuddered as she realized that as long lived as she was, there were others who were much, much older.

"I'm beating around the bush, though, aren't I?" she asked, forcing herself back on track. "What do you know about succubi?" She took another bite out of her apple, tossing the core to the ground.

edited 18th May '11 11:32:32 PM by animemetalhead

Loud as the roiling sea, and rambunctious as a spoiled child, a lone grey-and-white malamute trot beneath the beautiful canopy of the beech, or gingko, or whatever the strange vegetation that populated this wonderful place happened to be. Normally, he'd be concerned - that he didn't know where he was, that he didn't know exactly what it was he was surrounded by, that there were so many scents that he couldn't recognize - but the place offered such a calming air that the dog couldn't bring itself to care. There was no responsibility here. No need to mediate between squabbling friends, no disgustingly over-complicated plans to formulate and reformulate to account for the disgustingly over-complicated plans of others, and most importantly, no stupid rabbits.

That was why the mamalute did, despite everything, found it a bit strange that he was in fact a malamute. He and his friends (hard as it was to call them that at this point) saw fit to take the forms of the creatures of the wild during their little spat. It was, like everything terrible in his life, the result of an ever escalating slap-fight that a certain two of them engaged in to prove...something. Back then, he'd stayed out of his chosen form as much as possible. It was downright degrading.

sniff

Maybe it was the nose.

sniff

What was that?

sniff

Besides distracting. This was actually most of the reason he shunned the form, because it came with all these annoying senses and instincts and for the love of god it made it so hard to think. Normally, a conversation between he and the rabbit (why did he keep calling her that, she wasn't actually a rabbit) would go something like:

"Leitha, did you throw the stars into disarray again? Because I spend a lot of time putting those in place so they look nice and neat and quite frankly I'm a bit upset what with all the"

And she'd trail on about order and neatness and all that, and he'd respond with something frivolously cryptic, like:

"Well, Tisza, I think that is a problem you have to deal with yourself! We all can only move the stars so much as they - nay - as much as the chaotic void within all of us wants them to be moved, after all! Perhaps you yourself are doing it, hm? Order is, after all, in the eye of the beholder!"

Yes. So clever! But like this it'd go more like:

"Leitha, words about stars. Constellations! Order. Angry."

"bark"

And that train of thought brought so many bad feelings right back to the surface. Leitha decided that for now, maybe it would be best to just indulge in the flowers and the scents and the good feelings about not-so-nice people, because maybe after all he'd gone through being man's best friend was the only logical recourse.

Or maybe that didn't make any sense at all. Really, though...not making sense was practically his job, and if being a dog made him better at it, then it couldn't be all bad.

sniff

Leitha had finally reached the distraction, a group of people he sensed all had their own little problems. As he lay down in the grass nearby, he thought maybe it was actually better not to think. That's why he'd come here, after all.

edited 29th May '11 7:53:47 PM by Lasty

"Me?" Asau said to Gant, "I'm just here killing time. Seeing if I can't teach people a little bit about themselves, in my own way. Oh, and occasionally having a little laugh — it's not my fault if others can't be bothered to play the game. As for fate, that was what assured the immortality of the Azure Lord. Relying on it got him eaten. So, no, I don't believe in fate. Too many beings that spit in its face for it to be useful. You took the fruit because you were fast. No more, no less. Now if you'll excuse me..."

Showing sudden interest, Asau went up to Lena and said, "I know enough about succubi to be very interested. Demons from earthly myths — although from what I've heard, you are akin to the angels my sisterhood has modeled itself on. Whether your kind is a dark counterpart to them, or merely the same sort of creature viewed through a different lens, remains to be seen... but if half of what I've heard is true, then..."

She stopped in mid-sentence, noticing Leitha. "Dog," she muttered, warily. Dogs did not like her at all. Dogs were smart enough to smell that she wasn't from Earth, and stupid enough to assume that meant they were supposed to respond with loud barking and occasional violence, depending on what their human masters permitted. And this one seemed to be a stray — she readied her bamboo staff, watching the dog nervously. "Dogs don't like me," she explained. If it left her alone, she'd leave it be.

edited 19th May '11 5:47:21 AM by KillerClowns

Guys... I live in Eastern time zone. You guys were posting after midnight on my end, so I obviously could not post. '_'

The mechanical behemoth took his apple from him?

Whatever, he'll just materialize another one.

That's exactly what he did. Another perfectly juicy, ripe apple dropped into his hand and he started on it, listening to the scene.

Didn't Adrian have two succubi chasing after him?

Must mean he's attractive, but it wasn't like he knew how.

What, now there was a dog here, too?

"Not a fan of dogs either, admittedly." he replied.

Sorry, been up all night... Time's just a number to me anymore.

Lena scanned the ground and spotted the animal. While she wasn't particularly fond of animals, they didn't actually bother her. She turned her attention back to Asau. "Yeah, that's pretty much the same reaction I get from most people who haven't explicitly dealt with succubi before. It's always the same. They ask a few questions, mention hearing about them, and that's about it."

"Except for this one guy," she continued. "He was some crazy devout Catholic, thought I was a sign of the apocalypse or something. Tried to 'exorcise' me. As if that'd even work," she spat. "It's not like I wanted to hurt the guy. Hell, I don't wanna hurt anyone, that's why I'm here, indirectly."

She flopped back down on her cloak, crossing her legs in front of her. "You ever enjoy something a lot, but have to hold back because doing it hurts or even kills people?"

edited 19th May '11 6:17:53 AM by animemetalhead

Yes, finally! I got this thing posted. Sorry for the absence, people.

Wesley sat slumped on the ground, with his arms around his knees. The rifle he had clutched in self-defense was lying in the grass by his side. It was an odd sight, he reflected, that juxtaposition. He looked up at the various people around him, engrossed in conversation, bangs shadowing his eyes. Up at the woman who attacked him, now partaking in ontological discourse with Julia, the long-haired girl.

The pressure lessened slightly in his head, the pounding growing ever quieter. His heart had only just begun to calm, relatively speaking, since it was still beating a regular imprint onto the inside of his ribcage. His breathing, having come quick and heavy, had likewise eased over the past few minutes. Normally he would have been like that for hours. It was this place, he was sure of it. Certain individuals notwithstanding, it was a peaceful sanctuary. He wished he could forget. Even if it was just for a second, please. Wesley’s head dropped into his hands.

Eyes weary, stomach growling, arms sagging, his muscles ached with weeks worth of accumulated battle fatigue. Slowly but ever surely, that familiar safe sense of emotional equilibrium began to reassert itself. Like ice, it crept into his brain, paralyzing him. No- it was not equilibrium. To use that word would suggest a balance of opposing forces cancelling each-other out so as to result in zero effect. That was not what was happening. No two conflicting aspects or emotions of him were mired at an impasse. There was no middle-ground, no stalemate, simply for the fact that there were no forces. It wasn’t a balance, it was a void. Blissful indifference. Null. Dead. Nothing. It was an absence.

An awfully familiar absence, and one that ate away at him from the inside. First it would eat away at his patience. Yes, that would be the first to go. Pretty soon he would start to show signs of irritation, pettiness. He’d grow more demanding, harsh and confrontational in the face of what he thought was everyone else’s incompetence. Next he would lose his self-control, becoming impulsive and violent. Overreacting to the tiniest of perceived slights. Wesley was familiar enough with it both in himself and his comrades to know that this was how it progressed. It was always a risk, and especially severe in any platoon that had seen extended fighting or severe casualties. But seeing as he looked to be the only one of them there from a conscript battalion, he couldn’t count on any of the others to know all that. It could destroy a platoon, especially if it afflicted senior command personnel who were not (despite their frequent and vocal insistence to the contrary) in the least bit immune.

To an outside observer, the whole process was insidiously subtle. All Wesley really looked to be doing was sulking and that in itself hardly raised any eyebrows, especially for conscripts. But only ever in the movies do time-bombs emit a ticking noise. If he were less experienced he probably would have reacted, made noise. Moaned, sobbed or screamed. Perhaps all three. But that’s because he would have been feeling something else, anything else- anything at all. But he simply wasn’t.

Psychologically speaking, those painful noises would be small expressive acts to grab attention. Raise awareness of his pain. But he had quickly learned that it was useless. No help was ever coming and so such behavior was pointless. He couldn’t change the situation, and neither could anyone else. Every man to the left or right of him was in the exact same predicament that he was. It’s all very Pavlovian. After all that, as he was, the most Wesley could conjure up was this sort of sardonic disinterest which only seemed to exacerbate his general malaise. He was deadened, emotionally speaking.

He felt perfectly in other ways though. Take physically for example- he was perfectly capable of feeling physically. And physically speaking, he felt like shit. Bruised, beaten and dog-tired if you wanted specifics. He couldn’t even remember how long he’d been walking out of that forest. Suddenly, his stomach rumbled. Again. This reminded him he still hadn’t eaten.

Wesley pulled his bayonet knife off his belt and picked his Soumi back up. Without a moment’s hesitation he set upon it, carelessly carving it open as if he hated it. Perhaps he was thinking of someone. After a few seconds all he was left with was a juice-dripping mess. Resentment boiled up deep in the bottom of his gut. That fucking bitch. Wesley had actually started to relax. Now though? He knew he couldn’t. He stabbed the dirt in frustration, leaving the knife embedded there, buried to the hilt. He had stabbed down pretty hard. Now, thanks to her, he knew it would be a great many hours of hyper-vigilance, mood swings, irrational combativeness and paranoia before he would find himself able to let his guard down again.

edited 19th May '11 5:30:34 PM by Gault