54 - 27. diploma on the wall

by bofa xesjum

p stared at one of the diplomas on the wall. the social engineer kept on taking about something or other. p had already decided she did not like him much. she did not like his face, which was too round. or his tie, which was red, or his general demeanor. she realized he was asking her a question - she smiled. could you repeat that please - i must have been dreaming. you do not say so - do you dream very often? that is my number 3 identity - a class 4 dreamer. then perhaps you should not have applied for this position. i am not applying for a position, p replied bewilderedly. i thought i was here for a routine societal checkup. do you want to apply for this position or another? i do not know or care what the position us. can you please oblige me with a routine societal checkup? i am very sorry - you will have to reschedule it. this is very annoying - all you bureaucrats should be killed. i am a technocrat, not a bureaucrat, if you please. the whole system should be torn down and completely restructured. would you like a pill to calm yourself down? i have my own pills, thanks for your generous offer. this interview is over, enjoy the rest of your day. i will, dreaming of a future without people like you. little does she know me, the social engineer mused placidly. ' p got up and left, .without further ado or ceremony. the social engineer, whose name was rudy , wiggled his toes.

54 - 26. waiting for a train

by bofa xesjum

most things are not what they used to be before . the trains and buses, especially, do not run on time . walter gruck waited impatiently for the midnight train to downtown. walter gruck - that’s a funny name - go ahead and laugh. as a young man, walter always tried to do right. but he never got anywhere as the years went by. nobody paid any attention to him or invited hm anywhere.. if they did, he could not get there on time. walter found that the buses and trains were always late. and traffic on the streets and freeways - forget about it. well, you may ask, is that not true for everybody? but walter was not a philosopher - he took everything personally. on this particular night the temperature was falling somewhat dramatically. walter was alone on the platform, as he usually was. suddenly a figure appeared on the platform, strumming a guitar. it was walter’s old archnemesis, the angel of atrophied entropy. waiting for a train, it sang, waiting for a train. i wish i was anywhere but here, walter exclaimed furiously. i’m just waiting for a train, the angel crooned soothingly., the demon of discord appeared, wearing a plain green t-shirt. walter started to ask the demon if he was cold. no one is cold, the demon replied, only the flowers. and the flowers are black holes, the angel added sagely. walter woke up - on death row in arkansas state penitentiary. he never tried to make sense of his endless dreams. four hours until breakfast, he thought resignedly, and rolled over.

54 - 25. moonlight ride

by bofa xesjum

where did everybody go, t wondered, walking through the park. earlier that evening, it had been filled with roaring enthusiasts. now the full white moon, low in the sky, looked sad. t felt a curious vibration in the expectant night air. suddenly the night was lit with dozens of bright headlights. of blue patrol cars forming a grinning circle around t. one car, longer than the others, pulled up to t. its door opened, and chief john cooley brown clambered out. what are you all doing here? the chief thundered majestically. the demonstration is over, and the area is declared cleared. i am sorry, i think i must have fallen asleep in the middle of world war 5? the chief persisted. um - i heard noises, but i thought i was dreaming. enough of this pointless palavering - get yourself in the car. t did so, and the long blue limousine sped off. the other headlights switched off - the park reverted to darkness. in the cell at headquarters, t’s old friend u awaited. what are you doing here? t tentatively enquired of u. you mean you really do not know? u responded derisively. no, why do you not tell me, for heaven’s sake? we are to be transformed in the dawn’s early light. transformed into whar exactly? t persisted with dogged determination. if we knew that , would it then be a transformation ? and u began laughing hysterically, to beat the band. you there in cell 73, please keep the noise down. i aways knew it would end like his, t thought.

54 - 24. noodles in the afternoon

by bofa xesjum

excuse me, sir, are you the proprietor. of this establishment? no, madam, i serve here as a humble maintenance engineer. so where then is the proprietor, if i may ask? the regional manager has an office in san rafael, california, is there anyone here i can vent my displeasure on? i might be able to help - what is your complaint? that man beside the door eating noodles - he offends me. what is he doing that offends you besides eating noodles? it is the way he is eating the noodles - obviously. what offends you about the way he eats his noodles? he puts way too many in his mouth at once. how many ounces at a time is the correct amount? i do not know - i am not a licensed nutritionist. he has been eating noodles here for many long years. and no one has ever complained before, to my knowledge. and how all-encompassing is your knowledge, if i may ask? no, it is my turn to ask you a question. it had better be a relevant one - so proceed carefully. is this conversation between you and me being recorded? everything is recorded in the great book, my good fellow. is it being recorded for tik tok or something similar? i percieve that you are a troll and a smartypants. and you have not heard the last of this matter. the offended party got up from her chair and left. the man eating noodles shoveled in another massive forkfull. raindrops began to fall on the window of the diner.

54 - 23. the game

by bofa xesjum

the sun smiled gently down on a well-tended public park. an old man sat on a bench, staring into space. a much younger man approached him, with a polite smirk. excuse me, may i ask what you are looking at? a picture of trump triumphantly entering the kingdom of kingdoms. you are, then, a follower of the so-called maga movement. i beg your pardon, i do not quite understand you. are you not referring to the 45th and 47th american president? why no, i meant trump vii, renowned emperor of atlantis. and who might he have been? the young man asked. it is not who he might have been, but is. so the empire of atlantis is right now in existence? what is it to you if it is, eh? eh? i’m sorry, i was merely trying to improvise polite conversation. i am afraid you were doing nothing of the sort. what do you take me for? the young man implored. i know exactly what you are - a spy for mudlark! a man in a light brown trenchcoat approached the pair. are you zachary colin marchmont? he asked the young man. why yes i am - officer, if i am not mistaken? and you, sir, are you not mister john jacoby lassiter? i have the misfortune to be that most unhappy personage. your jigs are both up, gentlemen - please come with me. a grey sedan halted on the graveled path behind them. neither marchmont nor lassiter resisted - they knew the game. i never got to feed the poor ducks, lassiter lamented.

54 - 22. good times

by bofa xesjum

willie, xena, yeti, and zorina called themselves the four amigos. they met down by the old mill stream in delaware.. willie worked as an elevator repairman on the swing shift. xena was a free lance doppelganger on the wild side. yeti was a professional class clown for the highest bidder. zorina had difficulty explaining exactly what she did or said. they had good times together, after the sun went down. things went on in this way for weeks and months. in his previous life willie was a dentist in el paso. xena had been alternately a butterfly and a dive bomber. yeti had never known his grandfather or a free lunch. zorina had been a princess in fifteen different forgotten kingdoms. willie’s favorite movie was the bridge on the river kwai. xena’s favorite lipsticks were imported from singapore and were expensive. yeti went for long walks along sandy beaches and coutnry roads. zorina had them all beat when push came to shove. bluebeard ran the old mill stream wih a iron hand. he did not let anybody challenge him on his turf. not the amigos, the so-called authorities or any other losers. zorina’s mother did not approve of zorina’s three friends. she appealed to bluebeard to break up the merry band. and hired a hotshot lawyer, clarence wimble, to get serious. and a seasoned hitman, named blackie, to back hm up. bluebeard saw the writing on the wall and headed south. that is just the way that some people are. unfortunately. don’t worry about it - just try to do your best.

54 - 21. favorite

by bofa xesjum

what is your favorite animal, alice asked billy quite innocently. a cow, billy replied with , to alice, somewhat surprising promptitude. a cow is a very gentle animal, alice murmured approvingly. a cow grilled over an open fire, with a-1 sauce. i meant a live animal, that you can talk to. animals can not talk, billy responded with his characteristic certainty. they might lf you sincerely tried to talk to them. let us talk about something else, you are boring me. what is your favorite insect, or your favorite vanished civilization? why is it always favorite this, favorite that? billy asked. you know we have been instructed to talk about things, yes, so that we can learn to talk about things. is that a problem? what else are we to do? we could just wait until it is time for lunch. stafford and mister brown might not like that very much. who are duke and duchess here , we or mister brown? the door opened and stafford strode into the sun room. mister brown wishes to see both of you right now. but it is not even lunch time yet, billy protested. mister brown has never wanted us before lunch, alice added. mister brown wants to see you right now, stafford repeated. alice and billy followed stafford down to the blue.river. they got in the boat and stafford began rowing across , to the island where mister brown was waiting for them. i always very much enjoyed your company, billy, alice cried . a bird flew overhead as stafford pulled at the oars.

54 - 20. walking in the rain

by bofa xesjum

the storm will begin in twenty minutes and seventeen seconds. i can make it, murchison thought, i can do it. i can get to the center in fifteen minutes easy. he set out, swinging his short but muscular arms confidently. after eight minutes, the rain suddenly began to fall heavily. murchison looked around desperately for a cab or a bus. he was quickly soaked like laundry in a washing machine. the people at the center would have a good laugh. he knew their type - always ready with a heartless smile. along with their rolling eyeballs and obviously fake sympathetic noises. it was the story of his life, over and over. the rain fell harder, almost knocking hin off his feet. the street was now completely empty of people or vehicles. just murchison and the rain and wind and falling darkness. why, he wondered, was life so awful and so meaningless? why did his fellow humans consider him ridiculous and pathetic? < p> his phone came back on, interrupting his despairing interior monologue. the storm will continue for anther twenty-two minutes before ending. how do i know this forecast will be any better? i might as well just give up and go home. home to the loneliest room in the whole wide world. a long black town car appeared in his peripheral vision. it pulled up beside him and the window rolled down. the young woman behind the wheel had a cheerleader smile. hello, bob, my name is cambridge, i’m from the center. we thought you might like a ride in this weather.

54 - 19. the outside man

by bofa xesjum

sarah looked out the window while travis read his book. look, there is a man sitting on the sidewalk outside. you mean he is not sitting on the sidewalk inside? your literal-mindedness gets more tiresome with every passsing decade. duly noted, travis replied, without looking up from his book. he looks so sad - i wonder what his problem is. you can see the expression on his face from here? i can tell from his body language, sarah replied confidently. why don’t you go out and engage him in conversation? that is a good idea - i will do just that. take your phone or your notebook - and take good notes. but sarah was out the door before the parting shot. good morning, my name is sarah , what might yours be? it might be many different things, thank you for asking. you sound just like my husband, sarah replied somewhat disappointedly. is that a compliment - is your husband a nice person? forget him - i came out here to talk to you. if i may ask, in some official or semi-official capacity? no, in a happy spirit of sincere friendship and enquiry. i think those are two different spirits - friendship and enquiry. tell me, what is in your briefcase, sarah changed the subject. why would you want to know that? the man asked. a history of the world - ir maybe a groundbreaking novel? no, just some socks and underwear, if you must know, you can get the best socks at goodwill, he aded. but for underwear you should go to the salvation army.

54 - 18. beside the lake

by bofa xesjum

i feel i have done all i can do, sir. that is quite a statement from one so young, exeter. many have opined that i have an old soul, sir. so you have nothing for me, then? mister macardle sighed. i thought it prudent not to produce absolute rubbish, sir. feeling, like alexander, you have no more worlds to conquer. exactly, sir, i could not have said it better myself. outside the dusty window of the conference room, birds flew. ' exeter, with his old soul, walked slowly around the placid lake. mister macardle poured a cup of tea with a cavalier flourish. the door opened and proctor walked in quite at his ease. well, what did you make of him? proctor bluntly asked macardle. he just won’t do, macardle replied, he just won’t do. i will have the necessary paperwork done and steps taken. have you heard from parker ? macardle smoothly changed the subject. no, and i do not care if i ever do, exeter met juliana under a tall tree beside the lake. have you made up your mind? she asked without ceremony. i have made up my mind to conquer the world. i do not suppose you wish to take me along. of course not, it is obvious you just won’t do. pray, how any people in the world just will do? i never suspected you were such a philosopher, my dear. is not a philosopher but a person who asks questions? i never ask questions, exeter replied briskly, especially of myself. a sudden breeze stirred the lake, and a raindrop fell.

54 - 17. well furnished

by bofa xesjum

outside, the snow began to fall at an alarming rate. huddled in the grimy doorway, roger valmont felt very unhappy, he turned the collar of his ragged green coat up, how had it come to this? he asked himself speculatively. wet snow began to cover the glass in the doorway. roger could no longer see the people in the street. i am wasting my valuable time, he told himself despondently. the door opened suddenly and roger was confronted by aldington. aldington shook snow off his topcoat and glared at roger. do you live here, fellow,? aldington demanded in his brusque manner. aldington! do you not know me? roger cried out piteously. aldington’s eyes retracted in the way roger remembered so well. yes, of course, he murmured, what do you want now? now! it has been at least thirty years, roger cried. well, what is it that you want, after thirty years? shelter from the storm, what else would i possibly want? what could anyone possibly want? aldington muttered grimly to himself. come on up then, he added, pointing to the stairs. the elevator is broken, but the room is well furnished. roger followed aldington up four flights of dimly lit stairs. the room was indeed well furnished, and warm as well. roger sat down on a shabby but soft oriental divan. might i be offered a drink next, he mused hopefully. not yet, for aldington had disappeared into an adjoining room. roger heard aldington’s voice rising and falling, angry as ever. outside the wind joined the snow in a fierce embrace.

54 - 16. olivia and the colonel

by bofa xesjum

after olivia escaped from the dictator, she wanted to relax. she rented a cottage on the outskirts of the wilderness. she liked to look out the window at the grass. beyond the grass was the desert, and a few mudholes. a hippo named the colonel lived in the biggest mudhole. olivia was warned never to disturb or approach he colonel. because he was the fiercest beast in the southern hemisphere. olivia spent a week reading the memoirs of empress josephine. inevitably, she grew bored and sauntered down to the mudhole. the colonel was sitting there, with a supremely indifferent air. a little boy wearing a fedora sat on his back. he was the last descendant of a tribe of vikings. who had terrorized the countryside in king herod’s time. olivia offered the boy one of her hand rolled cheroots. and a light, which he accepted with casually mperial politesse. they smoked for a while in silence under the clouds. do you come here often? olivia finally asked the boy. only every sixth day after the full moon, he replied. if you do not mind my asking, olivia began tentatively - oh, you may ask me anything at all you like. they covers a great deal of territory, does it not? territory is what we have a great deal of here. you seem something of a sage for one so young. there is no youth or age here in the mudhole. is this beast actually as ferocious as he is reputed? why do you not pat his nose and find out?

54 - 15. jennifer and the potatoes

by bofa xesjum

jennifer johnson, the center of the universe, had a dream. one of the strangest dreams any human being ever had. so strange it can hardly be put into coherent words. the economy of the kingdom was based on green grapes. neither the peasants nor the nobles ever seriously questioned this. suddenly an ostrich ran across the road carrying a flag. jennifer realized she was dreaming, and tried hard to wake up. this can not be happening to me, she thought desperately. if i walk along quietly, the underlings will ignore me. and the monkeys will arrive on the mayflower in time. i have always tried to be an innocent good person. and not surrender to farmer fred and his ferocious friends. very soon, the ships will return with their precious cargo. suddenly the pile of potatoes blocked jennifer’s right of way. they never go completely away, now, do they, jennifer? it must be a judgement on you, don’t you think? a camel carrying his back to old virginia suddenly appeared.’’ need some help with those potatoes, miss, he enquired soliticiously. get behind me, devil, jennifer hissed, i know your ways. the camel turned into a rabbit and loped casually away. jennifer tried to be brave, despite all that was happening. maybe it was all meant to be, she mused hopefully. a rider appeared on the horizon, all by his lonesome. faster and faster he approached the expectant pile of potatoes. jennifer finally accepted that she was only a potato herself. even a potato needs a friendly word now and then.