The Neurocircuiter
Prologue: This Morning, As I woke, the first thing I became aware of was the sound of birds merrily chirping and playing outside my window. Somehow, the cheerful normality of the sound got on my nerves, if only for a moment. ‘It’s certainly their right to be happy, isn’t it?’ I thought. I groaned. I moaned. I stretched my shoulders and thighs and calves. ‘Even if I’m not,’ I continued. I stretched more muscles I’d forgotten about since last night. It felt good. Sunlight was filtering in through the blinds, warm and real. Somewhere in the back of my mind mental images flickered and danced on the dark, candlelit walls of my subconscious. Somehow, these dream images seemed important. I faintly recalled a room with stone walls, like a castle...someone in that room had been studying with me. I got the mental image of a huge tome on a sturdy wooden table we had been poring over, before the birds interrupted us. Their piercing calls managed to infiltrate through the stone walls of our room, drawing my consciousness towards them--towards real life. Greedy bastards, those birds. Attention-whores. I rose to greet the real world, grouchy and hesitant with half-closed eyes (and bad breath). Already, my mind was racing ahead of me to encounter one-thousand-and-one tasks that lay ahead. All of them were much more important than my fantasy dreamland, I felt assured. “GOD! Can’t he stay awake for one single lesson?” Tanya ranted. “Look at him! Passed out again! How is he ever going to master even this one simple skill? I swear, this guy is the least receptive student I’ve ever had the misfortune of mentoring!” Tanya was not at all amused by the sleeping student currently drooling on her table. “Give him a break,” God answered. “It’s harder than you remember, being split in two like him. He’s being stretched to his breaking point from both sides. And if he breaks in half, you know what happens--I have to design a whole new universe, and guess what your job’s going to be in it!” “Teaching a bajillion fragments of You, I suppose,” Tanya answered. “Right you are, my dear,” He spaketh. “So let’s focus on one thing at a time here, while we still can, hmm?” “Two things…” Tanya muttered. “I heard that!” God exclaimed! “And you know full well, it’s one thing. At least, for now it is…or...well, then…I suppose that’s a matter of perspective at this point, though, isn’t it?” The scent of a conspiratorial grin floated through the room. Tanya didn’t want to answer. More than most people, God really listened to what she said. Either way she answered, she’d end up right. And to be honest, she wasn’t so sure anymore. “Anyway, those birds have the 'dimension-piercing song' his universe’s Christed One designed. So he didn’t have much choice but to vacate his body, now did he? Of course you know I let the Christ design all sorts of cool stuff like that!” Tanya knew. In her toes, she could faintly hear God tap-dancing again. He sure was chipper today. “Maybe someday, you can Christ one. Tell you what: let his soul break in half, and I’ll make you the Christ of the next one! Hahahaha! Cha-ching!” He ended with a masterful flair of taps and spins. Ah, bliss. God and his unsinkable humor. Tanya didn’t want to Christ the universe that would be born if her student shattered. It would be a dark, dangerous place. A space that, for now, he held safely inside himself. “I hope he wakes up soon,” Tanya said to herself as she tidied up the room to leave. She leaned in close to her sleeping student. “The crisis is already begun, and you can’t even see me yet!” she said to his drooling face on the table. It was kind of cute, the way he drooled like that, she thought. “You have no idea what’s happening in that little universe of yours--and with no ideas, you have no chance to save yourself. Bah!” She turned to the corner, where a little purple kitten with a golden bell on its neck watched curiously. “Tell me when he gets back,” she said. The purple kitten yawned. Good enough. Calming herself, Tanya stood to leave. She closed her eyes and inhaled peacefully. A breeze began to blow through the stone walls, although the flames in the fireplace and on the burning candles in wall sconces didn’t react to it. Her long black hair streamed behind her. It turned golden blond, then to golden light. The walls of the room began to waver, and the room became transparent. Floating now in a blue sky full of white clouds, she resembled a sun more than anything else. Technicolor patterns swept over her vision, and the sky turned into a raucous scene of swirling colors and forms. She expanded to greet the world, beautiful and wise, with open eyes. Already, her spirit was racing out to encounter the infinite intelligences that populated her universe. Each one of them was much more real than the ‘real world’ of her student (as if one world was more real than another, what a laugh)--or at least that’s what she used to think. Faced, now, with the knowledge that she would be called down to Christ a dark, hostile universe if her student snapped, she suddenly found herself quite interested in his “real world” after all—yet hopelessly unable to penetrate it. She would definitely have to speak with that Christ of his. Unfortunately, his Christ had already descended into his universe to take part in the final transformation. Down and out, below what Tanya could perceive. Of course. ‘God!’ Tanya thought. [What?] ‘Why do all these Christs and their universes have to be so complicated?’ [You’ll see! Hahaha!] ‘Does he really need to place so much emphasis on these infant souls? His whole concept of universe evolution seems like wiring a nuclear explosive to a big red button that says “Do Not Push” and placing it in a room full of six year olds. Six year old curious monkeys, let me be more specific. It’s a dumb idea,’ she thought. God was experiencing the feeling of being a mile-long slug at the bottom of a nitrogen ocean in that very same universe, albeit on another side of it. Checking out the scenery. Soaking it all in, as it were. 'She’ll see,' It thought, as a slug. Then It laughed. It stretched one long muscle, and shuddered with delight. It felt good. Chapter 1: What did I just see? I walked down the hall into my bathroom, which is my usual daily routine. I held my penis and aimed my urine towards a ceramic bowl filled with water. I yawned skillfully without disrupting my urination, already in progress. It’s the kind of routine complexity that fades into the background of life in that first minute of being awake. Acquired skill, but old habit. I finished up, shook it a few times, and then a few more times. Still dazed, I stared blankly at it for a second. Offhandedly, I appreciated the mushroom shape of it—interesting how that shape got reused and recycled so many times throughout genetic history. Gotta stick with what works, I supposed. That’s not an original thought, though. I think that all the time. Another acquired skill, another old habit. Flushing the toilet, I tried to remember what it was about that dream that seemed so important. I scratched my head and yawned again. Fuck, man. I just don’t know. Something about a purple kitten. It makes no sense. Anyway, that’s over now, and today’s just beginning. I have a job to do. Ugh, that’s right, my job. It’s not so bad really, except for the fact that I have to do it. My co-workers are nice, if a little boring. Hell, moving boxes all day IS boring, how can I blame them? I’m probably pretty boring too, really. I mean, look at you man, waking up and scratching your ass and getting ready to sort packages all day. Hey, stop the presses! He’s scratching his ass again; can we get a copy-writer on this or what!? I hopped in the shower, and let the heat soak into my muscles—soaking it all in, as it were. I like taking long showers. It’s one of the best parts of the day, but always over too fast. In fact, again today, it was over too fast. The tiny water heater in my apartment runs out in something like five minutes. I toweled off, shaved and put some styling product in my hair. Checked myself out in the mirror. Sexy time! I’m naked and tired, but the hair looks good. I’m comfortable. Unfortunately, though, it is now time to don the uniform of a professional ‘package delivery specialist’. Or whatever it is I’m called. Ah, beauty itself…gray khaki shorts and a gray button up shirt. And a nifty name tag reading “Jahosaphet”. Everybody calls me Joe, which is fine, but I put my whole name on the tag just for kicks. I mean, who names their kid Jahosaphet? Its so lame it’s actually funny. And here I am showcasing it in my gray short-shorts. God must have a weird sense of humor, I thought. “You have no idea!” screamed the radio as soon as I started my old car. “All week long we’re slashing prices! Everything must go! We’re closing out last year’s inventory to make room for the coming season! Don’t get left behind, or you’ll be…!” I smashed the radio knob with my right hand, killing the noise. ‘GOD!’ I thought, ‘fucking commercials.’ * * * By the time I got to work, the radio was all the way up again. I was rocking out to some old Nine Inch Nails song, as any good punk of my generation should. Pulling into a parking space, I remembered to turn the radio down before turning off the car...this time. Stepping out into the warm summer air, I couldn’t help but notice what a nice day it was—a bright blue sky full of white clouds, and the golden sun shining down benevolently. I really hoped I was scheduled to be a driver, or at least a driver helper, today. I didn’t want to be stuck inside the warehouse sorting packages on a day like this. I was lucky enough to have a ‘floating’ schedule; sometimes I was inside, sometimes out. That’s lucky for me, anyway. I like to get some variety in my life. I walked across the small parking lot to the employee entrance of our building. The vinyl sign over the main door read “Packages Plus!” Personally, I had yet to discover what the “Plus!” referred to—all I ever did was deliver packages. But then again, “Packages” isn’t really that catchy as a business name, so I usually let that slide in the name of artistic license. I gave an amused mental salute to the sign as I keyed in the employee pass-code and pushed through the steel door. “Goooood morning, Tom!” I said as I slipped past the coffee machine. Tom worked in the administration office. A paper-pusher. “Hi, Joe,” he replied, glancing away from his coffee momentarily. I kept walking and Tom turned back to his coffee, which was just about full now. It seemed a little early to be engaging in too much conversation--to me, anyway. I was still on a mission to discover my fate, hopeful to see that I was driving today. I turned the corner and took a look at the bulletin-board where the daily schedules are posted. And lo and behold! I was indeed driving...although curiously it wasn’t one of my usual trucks. This one took me out of the city and into the surrounding countryside. I could hardly have felt luckier--it seemed miraculous! Not only did I escape the confines of the warehouse, I got to do some “Sunday driving” outside the city with lots more driving than lifting packages. Practically a vacation! The early morning crew already had the delivery trucks loaded, so I wasted no time getting out of the warehouse. I grabbed the clipboard labeled “Joe” that was hanging on the wall and looked it over. ‘Truck number seven, huh? Today really is my lucky day! Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket on my lunch break,’ I thought as I walked toward my truck. Which is silly, of course, since I don’t waste my time on such fanciful pursuits. I always figured that if I was going to catch a big break it would take some personal effort, you know? I’m pretty imaginative, but even I can't picture some random twist of fate elevating me to the status of a wealthy man all in an instant. ‘Stranger things have happened,’ I thought--although at the moment I couldn’t think of anything stranger than that. ‘If I do win the lottery, I’m going to buy a bigger water heater,’ I said to myself. That made me smile. ‘With a water heater like that, I could still be in the shower at this very moment!’ Another smile. I started the truck’s engine, buckled my seatbelt and pulled out of the loading bay. “Let’s see what today has in store for ol’ Joe” I said to myself, out loud this time. And off I went. I had just a few stops in the city as I headed south-east out of town. I don’t mind driving in the city usually, but today I felt the urge to get out of the concrete jungle and into some real wildlife. Not surprising, given how beautiful the day was. ‘Let me see some rustling grass and swaying trees,’ I thought. ‘And let this retarded red light change…I’ve been stuck here forever.’ Out and out I drove. Just as I thought, the trees were beautiful to watch in the warm breeze. Each one had thousands of leaves fluttering individually, but the effect was similar to pointillism. At a glance the scene seemed solid, whole. Yet on closer inspection it became more and more apparent that far from being a singular entity, this scene was actually an intricate dance of millions of tiny parts, and that each part had space between the next. That each part had a life of its own. ‘I wonder what an individual leaf wants from life,’ I mused. It seemed a silly question to ask myself. ‘Does it have dreams like I do when it sleeps?’ I wondered offhandedly. Again, that seemed like a silly question to be asking. ‘My mind really seems to be running away with me,’ I thought, ‘I’m kind of distracted today.’ Something was definitely looming in the back of my mind, not that I knew what that was. “Probably just this gorgeous day,” I said to myself. Up ahead, I saw the sign for highway C, which was the way I was headed. I turned onto the highway and pretty soon I was delivering my first package of the day. |
a new Novelby
Brian-Michael Sennin Ninetails 2011 (prologue + first chapter) [novel in progress...] |