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Fabala and Faro
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Fabala and Faro |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
Okay, I'm awake now. I'm on the side of my bed, about to fall off. I swing my legs over the side and stand. I'm still groggy, the memory of last night just starting to come back to me. I was drinking with Fabala and we were talking and -- Fabala! I can hear her rolling out of the bed behind me. Right, now I remember. That was some pretty messed up stuff we had to drink, but it was all good. Fabala and I get dressed. We're pretty congenial that way and besides I guess we're pretty close now. I've worked with Fabala a lot during my time studying at Sere Cog. I look down at my watch. 1343. It's a good thing we don't have any classes today. "Hey, why don't you add my dream to your oneiromatrix?" Fabala says. I think about it for a minute. What was that dream about again? But what can I give her in exchange? You see, the rules of the school psychotop game are simple. If you want to give someone a dream to add to their matrix, they have to give you something in exchange. The profs all say that's a good way to get to know your friends. You and your buddy -- in my case my girlfriend now, I guess -- are in sinc when your dreams start to show patterns in their relations with each other. So what you do then is you spend about an hour tying your friend's dream into your matrix by doing the math and comparing it with all your other collected dreams. Then you can use your matrix to find patterns. It's sort of time consuming, because you have to use a lot of critical thinking, seeing if you can discern similarities between dreams. If a dream has a lot of similarities with another dream, then it attracts that dream and you can find patterns in the thinking behind the two dreams. If not, then no cigars -- you go on to another dream, filling out the squares in the matrix. "Faro," Fabala says, "what do you say? Do you want my dream? Do you have one for me so we can exchange? I can give it to you for free. I do owe you for that time you bailed me out on the final assignment in comparative topologies." I think about it. All I've got are a couple of stupid dreams about exams. But there's a few weird things about them. We're playing computer games in one of them. Flight sims. The people in the exam hall next door are playing against us, and I'm trying desperately to write in my journal while my math prof is lecturing us about the last time he was in a a plane. I think I'll give her that one. "Yeah," I say, "I've got an exam dream for you to take." "Exam?" she says, "That's kind of boring." "Yeah," I say, "but it has a few weird twists. We're playing a flight sim in it." I make the bed and we sit down together at my computer at the desk beside my bed. My current work hovers in front of us. It's a pretty impressive oneiromatrix. The numbers are all there on the screen -- a digital display of Fabala's and my collective unconscious. I stroll down through the months and years, watching as the numbers steadily get bigger. Fabala and I get to know one another better as we go down. Our minds, our souls, our dreams attract more and more. My fingers gently touch the values, dragging them and manipulating the chart on the column of G-Air. I grab the row corresponding to my exam dream and give it a gentle tap with my pinky finger. For an instant the air hardens there into a little button I can feel pressing in. The description shows up on the screen now, along with a little graph of the dream's attraction to others on my matrix. It has a nice hump in the middle and a big spike at the end. That spike is the other exam dream I had before it. The rest is probably just background noise, but it is neat to see how it shows a bit of attraction to dreams earlier on. "You haven't had too much coherent dreams lately," Fabala says, looking at the slump of the past three dreams. They don't really attract anything. No spikes except for that little spike between those last two. "Yeah," I say, "there's nothing too exciting here. We'll have to see what your dream does in my matrix. Anyway, do you want this on your memory stick?" She hands me the memory stick and I put the data on it and copy her dream off of it onto my computer. Now I'll have to spend an hour or so going through the comparisons. I'd rather be doing that than going downstairs and cleaning the rest of my appartment. Any idiot can see that the result is true. |
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