The Age of Odin - James Lovegrove [71]
There is a man named Gid Coxall.
He is travelling in a car with a friend named Abortion.
They are heading north through the worst whiteout conditions the UK has ever known. Gid has nodded off in the passenger seat. Abortion steals a sideways glance at him, then produces his battered old rolling tin, the one he bought in Belize City, with the oh-so-subtle cannabis leaf design on it. He thumbs open the lid and starts to -
"Stop!"
Twenty-Six
Verdande paused the tape.
On the TV, the image froze in that flickery VHS way, wavering between consecutive frames. Abortion's hand fluttered up and down, placing a pinch of weed into one of his Bible page skins, then removing it, over and over. Just as he'd told me, he was steering the car with his knees. Stupid arse wasn't even looking at the road, concentrating on his rolling instead.
I stared at the screen, feeling shock. Anger. Incomprehension. All these things at once, and a kind of nausea too.
My life. I'd been watching my life on videotape, as though it were a rented movie. Me from the age of nought, through childhood and adulthood, right up to nearly now. All of the significant scenes, the meaningful moments, the narrative jumping from one to the next with a brief stutter of static in between. As if a film crew had been following me, making a biopic of Gid Coxall, and these were the highlights, the best bits cut together for the trailer. Every shot tidily composed. The lighting always right, the angle appropriate, the camera positioned to capture mood and feel. Some director had been toiling for thirty-odd years on this. Some Spielberg, some Cameron - no, I was flattering myself; some journeyman hack - had made it his life's goal to create Gid: The Movie. Without the star of the show even realising.
At the beginning I'd not understood what I was seeing. Then, as the truth dawned, I'd gone through denial, fuck-me-rigid astonishment, outrage, before finally settling on acute distress. I'd had enough. I couldn't bear to watch any more. Did I want to relive the car crash? See Abortion getting torn to pieces by those wolves again? No I damn well did not.
Verdande was smiling. All the Norns were smiling. Not nicely.
"Why stop here? We were just getting to the interesting part," Verdande said. "Urd has had her turn, with your past. We've reached my realm, the fulcrum, the present. Skuld comes next, and I'm sure she has many things to reveal to you. Many extraordinary things."
"Why would I want to know my future?" I said numbly. "Bad enough to have to go through all the old stuff again."
"Why would any man want to know his future?" replied Skuld. "Because he is curious. Because he wishes to find out where he is going and be assured that it's the right direction."
"Mortals perceive their lives moment by moment," Verdande said. "They do not realise the course they are on as they travel it. They do not see how each decision they make is a crossroads on a long, winding journey."
"Except perhaps in hindsight," said Urd. "But even then, looking back, they may be aware only of a maelstrom of circumstance. It appears as if there is no design, just coincidence, random events, whims and missteps that have brought them to where they are today."
"To know your future," said Skuld, "is to appreciate how fixed and unavoidable your destiny is."
"Is and has always been," said Urd. "You will gain a greater acceptance of your life so far. You will know that what strike you as mistakes have all, in fact, been integral to your becoming..."
"...who you are," said Verdande.
"And who you are meant to be," said Skuld.
"But, look," I said, "I'm really not interested in what's going to happen next. That's assuming you can even show me."
"Oh, we can," Verdande said.
"If we can show you everything we already have..." said Urd.
"Then we can show you everything to come," said Skuld. "How can you doubt that, given what you have just seen?"
And of course, I didn't doubt