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fractal007
Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958


0 posted 2009-12-14 02:24 AM


Practicality is a word that is too often used to condemn the imagination.  At least this was the case where Dale lived.  More often than not as he was growing up he would mention some idea only to have it attacked and dubbed impractical by the adults around him.  

As Dale grew older he began to see the fruits of this quest for practicality.  Most of the people around him lived lives that were shallow and dreary.  They were concerned chiefly with "the real world" and they tended to buy easily into books which advocated discovering the child within whenever they found themselves too stressed.  

I met Dale one afternoon on the curb of a road quite close to my own home.  He was seated there reading a copy of a science fiction novel and I asked him about it.

"It's more interesting than anything you'd likely be reading," said Dale.

I kept silent for the moment about what it was that I happened to be reading at the time and prodded further.  What was the book about?

"It's about a young girl who discovers a machine that can teleport her to any life she chooses."

And why was that interesting?  To me devices such as that were easy to come by.  To be sure, the physical world was difficult to change but the mental world, the paint that coated the white canvas of our experience, was quite pliable.

"Because," Dale said in response to my wondering what made the book interesting, "most people wouldn't dare to think of such a thing."

I nodded.  Was daring to think such a thing so difficult?  Who would condemn me for doing so?  These questions flew through my mind but I refused to let them roam free outside of me for the moment.  It was much more enjoyable for me to feel my own freedom without reference to Dale and his perceived superiority over me.

"People are just concerned with what's practical.  Paying the bills.  Taking care of the kids.  They don't have time to think about machines that can transport them to any location.  Aside from their cars, mind you."

What life did the girl choose to enter?

"It doesn't matter," the kid said, looking disillusioned with me.  He got up from the curb and walked away.  Part of me was glad to see him go.  How could he be so arrogant?

A few days later I happened to be strolling down town.  I entered a local bookshop and found an intriguing little book in the science fiction section.  It was all white, the cover made of a paper that was tattered.  On the inside the following appeared in bold type:  PRINTED ON RECYCLED PAPER.  On the outside was nothing.  I turned the book over in my hands.  Nothing on the back.  All of the pages were blank too.

I took the book up to the cashier and bought it.  Five bucks.  

Now I'm sitting here in my kitchen.  It's seven o'clock.  I've just finished cleaning the bathroom.    Now I'm looking at the book again.  It's white as usual but sometimes, when I dim the lights I can see the beginnings of words.  I remember the night I made out the entire text of a story about a boy whose mother was always warning him about going too near the dark inky sea at night.

Now I'm beginning to see traces of an instruction manual.  It's a book on how to operate a machine.  If I build this device, the words assure me, I will be able to view life from the perspective of any being living anywhere in the universe.  

I close the book again and smile.  Been there, done that.


© Copyright 2009 fractal007 - All Rights Reserved
JamesMichael
Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA
1 posted 2009-12-29 07:11 PM


Enjoyed...James
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