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Of Attrendia: Chapter 3
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Of Attrendia: Chapter 3 |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
Of Further Indiscretions Among the misconceptions concerning autism is that which alleges that it is a disease that sinks the intellect and the person to the level of banal mental retardation. I hope then to present this text as something of a rock disrupting the flow of such misrepresentations as it sits in the stream of internet thought. Normally I choose to write using pseudonyms so as to protect myself from retribution but I think that in this text I will lay myself bear. Life is too short for one to be concerned over the consequences of such indiscretion. My death will, among other things, put an end to the punishments and persecutions these writings might inflict upon me. Sere The following were most difficult to translate. In order to bring to you something from my impertinently curious journey into the thoughts of the young Sere, I found myself cross referencing bits and pieces of popular culture from all over the western coastal region of Attrendia, down the curves of Cape, and into the depths of luscious Compellian tradition. Where Sere might speak concerning thought projection and the psychtopological sciences, she employs notions of communal delusion from the Warring States period, borrowing from them not their content but rather their symbolic form. Yet when she then speaks of something as prosaic as the house wherein she lives, she makes use of metaphor from the poetry of certain warriors who lived over 5000 years ago. 7. I delve now into the depths of my feelings toward another. This is an act which I fear will have awesome consequences, and so I have adopted for my use elements of the writings of various societies throughout western history. If you must know my thoughts, dear reader, you can consult the volumes of Compellian lore contained in the Minsone library's history collections downstairs. Perhaps there you will find hints as to the sources of my inspiration in concocting the koine script in whose multiple tentacles you now find yourself ensnared. 8. I and Chris Michaelson both agree on the utter stupidity of the prevailing doctrine of our nation - that self and thought and the reality wherein both reside are one and the same thing. Desoism, this mode of mind control, is as I write sighing its last as the weird and and the unexpected spill forth in the entertainment media of our society. The mind of this woman holds within it contents utterly alien to the thoughts of that man. And when I turn the thought projector upon myself and see on the floating holoscreen my own mind and its imaginings the experience is both exhilarating and terrifying. It is of a quality that I cannot find in the real world. Who among us but for the thought projector can command this cat to turn into a dog or that man to become the meaning of desire? And even then only within the projector's artificial world will the command be heeded, and throughout history only in mind has it ever been heeded. 9. Once I invited Chris to accompany me to the study at my house when my parents were otherwise occupied. Switching on the device surreptitiously as is my wont, I had occasion to view no shortage of curious fascinations enacted within Chris. I can tell that Chris is very good at using the traditional meditative practices of Attrendian basic psychotopology. He manipulates a stack of layered worlds often times in order to impose structure upon the sputtering surges of thought we so often experience. But still I know that he struggles with the recurring thoughts of our species, as I will now demonstrate. 10. Patiently, I watched Chris's mind unwittingly play itself out for me. I was witness to lascivious horrors too frighteningly difficult to describe, ancient beasts and creatures popped and sprayed out upon the canvas of the otherwise innocent youthful landscape, expectorated from the depths of strange aeons before human experience. Hideous and mutilated images of myself and others were paraded out in scenes of crude and titillating putrescence beyond the comprehension of mere words nor even experience. This frightening explosion of the simultaneously bizarre and familiar energies which I myself had felt on many occasions was nothing new. I have observed it in men of all ages and I have come to expect it, despite its sudden and disturbing eruption out from the otherwise placid waters of psychic experience, as common and normal among members of the sex. 11. When I could see that Chris's thoughts had drifted to a more appropriate subject for a man of his age I saw fit to broach the matter of the device. Retrieving the tiny remote from my pocket, I said in a most seductive manner, “would you like to see into my thoughts?” Through the retinal projector I could see Chris drift in a whirlwind of emotion, dwelling upon me and then upon other secrets. 'She's probably already been watching us mean sneaky crook-bit...!' I heard the voice of one of his consultants. And so, with resignation, Chris accepted. 12. “How long were you watching me?” He is a very naïve person sometimes. I could feel and see in him the disappointment. I was his best friend. “With this I've been watching you for the past year or two.” I felt most vulnerable; I was confessing to Chris my own impertinent curiosity and the acts of violation that modern technology had allowed me to commit against his innermost life. Yet it was precisely this violation which rended apart the very fabric of our nation's ideal for thought. In the chaos in which he and I met, conducted gently by the machine, both found only alien psyches where once there had been two as one flesh. It was in the ecstatic abyss of an uncertainty finally erased that he and I realized the true folly of our age. Life's short. Think hard! |
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