When Bear (reluctantly) regained consciousness, his first instinct was to panic. What the heck was he doing here in an alien landscape? How had he gotten here? And what on Earth has possessed him to take a nap there?

But then, memory returned to him, and he remember the fight with his parents, the storming out into the wilderness, the sudden realization of what he had done, and… some sort of pain in his hands?

Suddenly, the rest of the day returned to him, and he leaped to his feet, and began touching various parents of him to see if whatever had knocked him out, or for that matter sleeping unprotected in the wilderness had done him any harm.

Thankfully, he was free of illness or injury. In fact, if pressed, he would have to admit that he felt wonderful. His little nap had been extremely restful, and now he felt vibrant and healthy and full of life.

Whatever had caused him to pass out had evidently done him no harm, and in fact seemed to have made him healthier than he had been before he passed out. He felt the warm gratitude of the survivor wash through him, and offered a brief but very heartfelt prayer of thanks to Jehovah for protecting him in his hour or need.

Thus eboldened, Bear calmed down. Yes, the realization of his mistake had been a shock and a humiliation, and the lack of proper survival tools hadn’t exactly helped, but he was calm and in control of himself now, and he was sure that someone of his intelligence, resourcefulness, and rugged determination would be able to get himself out of this jam without breaking a sweat.

As for that voice that seemed to speak to him right before he passed out, why, that was obviously an auditory hallucination brought on by his panic, stress, and fear. He was sure that goop he had scraped off his hands hadn’t helped either. Maybe the stuff was hallucinogenic.

Of course! Obviously, the stuff was a powerful drug, and that is why a normally rock solid competent person like himself had given in to panic and fear in the first place.

That all sorted, he stood up and looked around once more, this time with the practiced eye of a skilled survivalist scanning his surroundings for a way out.

{ I take it that you have recovered from your emotionfearclimaxcrisis incident? }

Bear froze in place. He did not want to believe he had just heard that voice again. Stupidly, he looked around for a potential source of that mysterious voice, all the while chiding himself for it.

After all, what did he expect to find on a completely alien planet? A talking animal? A chatty bush? A rock formation with a lot on its mind? All of them speaking English?

{ I am sorry that my speaking to you thus causes you distress. Believe me when I say that causing you unnecessary pain or discomfort is the last thing I want to do. Like I said before, I am very very sorry.}

This is too weird, thought Bear. Obviously some of that sappy stuff was still in his bloodstream, and he was tripping out. This was a problem, as none of his many survival teachers had taught him to find his way home while hallucinating.

{ You are not falsemindimageillusion hallucinating, Jeremy. I am quite real. I have not exactly figured out the nature of my existence yet, but I am just as as real as you are. And once more, I am so very sorry for being here. }

“And where is ‘here’?” asked Brain, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

The voice paused, and Bear could feel soft, cool fingers thumbing through the contents of his mind for the answer.

{I am within your… mind, Jeremy. I am part of you now. I am afraid that you have been infected with a brain parasite, and that parasite is me. }

This was beyond weird, thought Bear. He had never heard of talking hallucinations before.

“So you are a brain infection?” he asked, feeling foolish.

{ Not exactly. I am not a tinyinvisiblemalignanimal infection as you would describe it. Your body and brain are as healthy and hearty as ever. I exist within your mind itself, your consciousness. }

“So you are software, not hardware?”

Another long pause while the parasite scanned his mind (their mind?) for an answer.

{ Essentially true, yes. That substance on your hands is how I normally transmit myself. I chemically encode my consciousness in the substance and wait for the next warm season when the bushes shed their excess sap, and then any creature that brushes up against the bushes gets a copy of me all over themselves. }

Bear sighed. “Okay, assume for a moment that I believe you when you say you are more than a hallucination… how long am I stuck with you?”

{I am not sure. I’ve never been smartmindawareconscious sentient before. This is all very new to me. I understand so much more now than I have every done, see more than I ever could before. Your mind is wonderful. So much room! }

Bear chose not to be offended by that. “So as far as you know, I am stuck with you forever?”

Bear felt the parasite cringe with shame.

{ Yes, and I am so very, very sorry. I did not ask to be here, and I can’t leave, and all I can do is be a burden to you, and I am nothing but a parasite, and I am sorry. }

Bear sighed. Leave it to him to go off half cocked and end up with the universe’s only talking infection.

“I don’t suppose you know how to get me home, do you?”

{ I do not understand the question. What is ‘home’? }

“Figures. Well if we are stuck with each other, I suppose I had better give you a name. ”

{ I don’t deserve a name. I am nothing but a dirty parasite. I will never talk to you again and try to stay out of your way. Forget I ever spoke to you. }

Somehow, Bear doubted he could do that.

Bear stopped and looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time since he had left home. Not a single thing in his environment was familiar to him. The leaves on the bushes looked like wriggling red fingers. Rustling sounds were coming from all directions at once. The air smelled disturbingly organic, like something rotting. Even the soil looked weird and wrong somehow.

Also, his hands sort of hurt.

Bear took slow, deep, steady breaths (always Step 1 in all the emergency guides he loved to read) and tried to ignore the twin forks of panic and humiliation stabbing into his heart. His cheeks felt like he was two inches from a campfire and cold, prickly sweat was running down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. His every nerve hummed.

Here he was, the only son of the two most famous planet hopping scientists in the Seventeen Worlds Empire, a kid all too eager to brag about how visiting hostile aliens worlds was totally routine to him and how he could survive anything, someone who had been taught basic survival skills since he could walk, and what did he do?

Blunder out into the untamed wilderness on a planet that had only just been declared habitable by humans like he was some kind of clueless zoo animal who knew nothing about anything.

Gingerly, because he knew he would not like the results, he took an inventory of his survival assets, starting with the ones that were not there.

He wasn’t wearing his Survivor shirt, that was for sure. Suddenly he felt naked and exposed without it. He had been taught from an early age that you never leave home without some kind of survival garment on, even on safe boring Mars.

His hands were tingling now, with a sensation that was almost an itch but not quite.

If he had been wearing it, then all he would have had to do was tear off one of its stripes and that would have activated the powerful homing beacon woven into the fabric of it. Then it would have just been a matter of making himself comfortable until the rescue drone came to retrieve him.

He could almost laugh. Before right now, he thought that having to be rescued by a drone would have been the most humiliating thing in the world. Now, he was pretty sure he could survive it.

But no, he hadn’t put it on when he stormed out of the house. He had been too angry to even think about it. And he hadn’t been wearing it at home because he hadn’t planned to go anywhere today. It was a Home Study day and all he had planned to do was curl up in front of his Academy terminal and stuff his brain.

So, no Survivor shirt. So much for the easy way out. He also had no locator, no food, and no water. Who keeps those in their pockets when they are at home?

Thank goodness he had his Cutter with him. It could sharp its hard energy field into nearly any simple tool, and he was quite skilled in its use. So he might not have the basics of survival handy, but at least he had a powerful and versatile tool to use to get them, assuming he could figure out what was good to eat and drink.

The sensation in his hands was now slowly creeping up his arms. He ignored it.

So… he had a Cutter. That was good. And he had the locator chip that had been implanted in his scalp when he was an infant. He rubbed the slight scar under his hair and was soothed by the feeling of the chip’s solid squareness.

It being there meant that he would eventually be found. It was nowhere near as powerful as the beacon in his Survivor shirt, but it had a very distinct energy signature that would lead rescue vehicles right to him if they came within a mile of it.

But that was a mighty big if. He had no idea how long he had wandered, but it felt like hours, and he had been full of righteous steam and moving at full speed, so he could have gotten pretty far from home.

And this planet was 1.8 times the size of Earth. That was a lot of miles to be lost in. Search drones and sweep vehicles could comb this crazy planet for days without finding him. He had to come up with some way of signaling them, or they would be just as likely to find his corpse as him.

Inventory taken, he felt well and truly rotten now. He was the biggest idiot in the Seventeen Worlds, all the bigger because he totally knew better. Now he was doing to die on some ridiculous new planet and bring shame and grief to his parents, who would have to explain why their son of all people wandered off into an alien forest and died there.

He had just gotten around to imagining his parents watching as his body was lowered into the ground when the sensation in his hands and arms reached his torso, and suddenly intensified tenfold.

Now it felt like every nerve in his body was vibrating like a base string in a piano being played by an angry giant. He heard a great roaring sound that seemed to be coming from his ears themselves, and he could no longer feel his hands and arms at all. They were lost in the noise.

Then suddenly, the cacophony resolved into a single crystal clear note which rapidly faded into an ice cold silence.

Bear felt something stirring in his mind and a sensation like someone was running their fingers through his brain, and then a soft neutral voice in his head spoke.

And this is what it said :

{I would just like to say that I am very, very sorry. }

Then Bear did the most sensible thing he had done all day, and passed out.

“It’s alive… ALIVE!” shouted Doctor Frankenstein. His experiment was a success. His creation LIVED!

He rubbed his hands with glee as he watched his creation sleep, basking in the glow of what had to be the most important scientific discovery that anyone would ever make : the secret of LIFE ITSELF!

He was already framing his Nobel Prize acceptance speech in his mind when Igor said “Mathter! The creature awakes!”

Ah, yes. This would be his true moment of triumph. This is when his genius would truly LIVE! Frankenstein positioned himself so that his face would the first thing his creation sees, and put on his best clinician’s smile.

The creation slowly opened his eyes, and for a moment its eyes were unfocused and hazy, but then it focused on Doctor Frankenstein and blinked.

Clearly, the electrical shock had done more damage than Frankenstein had thought. He launched into his speech.

“Hello! I am Doctor Frankenstein! I am…. your friend! Friend, see? Friend!”

The creation stared at Doctor Frankenstein for a moment, then said “Why are you talking to me like that?”

“The monthter thpeaks, Mathter!” proclaimed Igor.

The creation peered at Igor. “Of course I can speak, you weird little man. And who are you calling a monster? Like you’re one to talk. ”

“Now see here… ” said Frankenstein. Nobody got to abuse Igor but him.

“And you are…?” said the creation.

“I? I am Doctor Frankenstein, and I created you!”

“Really? I thought my mother and father created me. Or God, for that matter. ”

“But don’t you see…. I, the greatest scientist who ever lived, have stolen the power of Life from God himself!”

“The power of life? What on Earth are you talking about? So far, all you have shown me is that you have the power to be very irritating to me when I am still waking up. ”

Frankenstein sputtered and stammered, but then gained control of himself. Composed, he said “Tell me… what is the last thing you remember?”

The creation thought for a while, then said “I remember my wife feeding me soup. ”

Frankenstein nodded, and said “And why was she feeding you soup?”

Another thoughtful pause, then said “Because she didn’t trust the maids to do it right. ”

“Yes, yes… but why were you incapable of eating the soup by yourself”

“Well, I’d been quite ill for a while, and…. oh. ”

“Yes? What is it?”

“I think I remember dying, actually. At least I am pretty sure I died, apparent evidence to the contrary. ”

“You DID die! ” announced Doctor Frankenstein gleefully, “and it was I, the great Doctor Frankenstein, who brought you back to life!”

The creation blinked heavily again, then cleared its throat and said “Well….. I suppose thanks are in order, then. Thank you very much, kind Doctor. How much do I owe you for your services?”

“No no no…. think nothing of it, no payment is necessary. The scientific triumph is quite enough for me. Besides, as you were, at one point, um, deceased, I am sure that your estate… ”

“Has been disposed of according to my will. I see. That could prove… troublesome. ” The creation rubbed its neck pensively, then suddenly stopped. ” I appear to have bolts in my neck.

“Yes, well… you see, the technique required a great amount of electricity, and… ”

“Oh, I see. You needed conducting points. I assume you have plans to remove them now?”

“Um… sure! Sure, yes, of course… just let me get my forceps here… “. Frankenstein rummaged around on his instrument tray, clearly somewhat rattled by this turn of events.

“Wait… what’s that on your tray?” demanded the creation. “Is that… a stuffed animal? My lord, are those alphabet blocks? Were you expecting to resurrect a simpleton?”

“Well… we just assumed that… with the electricity and all… we thought that whatever brain we used.. ”

“Well did you start with the brain of a simpleton?”

“No, but we… ”

“Then why did you expect to end up with one? I confess that my mind does not feel exceptionally clear at the moment, and I am having a little trouble remembering third grade, but I am otherwise in full possession of my faculties and looking forward to resuming my previous life and living out however many years I now have left. ”

“Resuming your previous… but… you are mine! You are my creation!”

“Dear me, and here I thought I was mine. What makes you think you somehow own me?”

“I created you! You are my creation! I stitched you together from the best parts of many men!”

“Wait… you mean you did not simply rescue me from oblivion shortly after I died? Good heavens, how long have I been dead, Doctor?”

Frankenstein glanced at Igor. Igor shrugged and said “The tombthtone thaid 1898, Mathter!”

“1898? But I died in 1897! I’ve been dead two whole years! I’m surprised there was enough of me left to reanimate after all that time!”

“Oh don’t worry about that, um…. other Mathter…. yourth was a very imprethive coffin. Very difficult to get into. Kept you quite fresh indeed. ”

“I told you to get me a fresh brain, Igor!” said Frankenstein.

“But you altho thaid to get a good quality brain, mathter, and this was the freshest of the ones in the expensive part of the themetary! ” Igor glared defiantly. “I wath on a very tight thchedule!”

“Be that as it may… ” said the creation, “what is this about me being made of many parts?”

“Perhaps now is the time for the mirror, Igor. ” said Frankenstein.

Dutifully, Igor held up a large mirror so that the creation could see itself. It immediately snatched the mirror from Igor’s hands and examined itself in fascinated horror.

“Good lord, Doctor, was this really the best you could do? I look like I was carved by a spastic. Were none of the bodies available to you good-looking? ”

“Well… ” said Frankenstein, “you know, you are more of a proof-of-concept project… the cosmetic refinements are always the last part of the design process… ”

“I’m beginning to understand that ‘monster’ crack from your assistant earlier, at least… I mean, I was not one to turn the ladies’ heads when I was alive but I at least didn’t turn their stomachs… ”

“Look, you’re alive, aren’t you? ”

The creation nodded. “Yes Doctor… I am sorry if I seem a little ungrateful. I truly am happy to be back amongst the living, strange body or not. It’s just that I am always ill-tempered and out of sorts when I wake up. And you must admit, good Doctor, that I have just been through a terrible experience. ”

“Ah yes. Death. ”

“That was the start of it, yes… well, good Doctor, I am truly grateful for your assistance, and while I have no worldly wealth to offer you now, I have some friends who are quite keen on supporting the latest advances in medical science, and I will be sure to give them your name and a ringing endorsement. Now if you odd little assistant could kindly show me the way out, I will trouble you no more. ”

“But…. but you can’t go!” said Frankenstein.

“Why on Earth not? ” said the creation.

“Because… because you’re my creation! I made you! I assembled you from.. from spare parts! And then I gave you the spark of life! I own you!”

“Oh dear me. You think that just because you made me, you own me? Does a parent own a child? Does the ewe own the lamb? Does the Doctor own the patient he saves from the brink of death? No, for these are living things, with destinies of their own, and as you have stated yourself, I now belong in that category. ”

“Perhaps I exaggerated that part a little in my excitement.. ” protested Frankenstein weakly.

“Wait a moment… that explains why you thought I would be a simpleton. This is all about birth, isn’t it? You foolishly thought that if you are resurrecting someone, that person is ‘reborn’ and will therefore have the mentality of an infant! ” The creation laughed. “I suppose you even expected me to call you ‘father’, yes?”

“That possibility had occurred to me… ”

“Good Lord, man, just get a wife and do it the old-fashioned way! All this trouble to do what the simplest and lowest of chambermaids can do given a beau and a midwife. And you had to use parts from what, five cadavers? Maybe six? So you brought one man to life at the cost of six? That hardly seems profitable. ”

“Now look here, I made you and I can… ”

“Un-make me? Oh please. This body you have made for me might be short on looks, but I can already tell it’s quite strong and sturdy. I am therefore fairly confident that I can defend myself, should it come to that. And besides, we are men of good breeding and intellect. Surely we do not need to resort to brute force?”

Frankenstein sighed. “Fine then. You win. Igor will show you to the door. Go out into the world with my blessing, and may your new life be a fruitful and fortunate one. ”

“Now we’re talking sense to one another. “. The creation rose to its feet. “I meant that about my science loving friends, by the way. I will give them the word about your astounding discovery and I am sure the future will find you with all the funding you could ever need in return for a few small services for your… benefactors. ”

“Yes, yes… ” said Frankenstein dismissively. “Go with God and all that. ”

After Igor returned, Frankenstein asked “Is that it? Is it truly gone?”

Igor nodded. “Yeth, Mathter. He thaid thomething about rethuming his pothition as a judge. I wished him good luck. Then he ambled off into the night.”

“Good riddance. I never expected my creation to be so… unpleasant. ”

Igor nodded. “Well he wath a judge, at least in life, Mathter. ”

Frankenstein nodded, and sighed. “They grow up so fast, Igor. Seems like only yesterday I was assembling him from spare parts, and now he’s gone.”

“It WATH only yethterday, Mathter… ”

Frankenstein stood up. “Still, no sense in dwelling on the past. Tomorrow we can start over, and perhaps the next one will be a little more… reasonable. ”

Igor smiled. “I have jutht the brain in mind, Mathter. A couthin of mine. Not the brighteth candle in the chandelier, but always very… um… amenable. ”

Frankenstein smiled. “Ah yes… a female brain. And a body to match, yes? Good, good. Women are naturally submissive to men. This one will be more… tractable. ”

“My thoughtth exactly, Mathter. ”

Frankenstein yawned. He gestured to the now-empty apparatus and said “Clean up… all this, will you? I believe sleep is what I need most right now. ”

“Of courthe, Mathter. You have had a very busy day. You go to bed, and when you wake up in the morning, everything will be shiny and clean and ready for your next creation. ”

Frankenstein nodded absently and left the laboratory.

Happy in his work, Igor whistled a merry tune as he cleaned up the lab. Yes.. a female creation. Igor had been saving… parts… for just such an occasion.

And with sweet Susie’s brain inside it, well…. Susie had always been so… amenable. So very, very amenable. Even to someone like Igor. So very…. amenable. It had truly broken Igor’s heart when she had died of that sudden and terrible fever.

But now she would be back, and with a brand new body built to far stricter specifications than that rude creation he’d bid adieu. And when the Master was not making use of her (if he even would, stuffed shirt that he was), she would belong to Igor.

And with those happy thought to keep him company, Igor worked through the night.

Here’s the stuff I didn’t discuss yesterday.

I’m going to move on to misandry tomorrow, in the interest of fair play and equal time. I have a lot to say on that subject too. Hate goes both ways, and when it’s directed at men, we’re generally supposed to just take it like a man.

Damn, I hate gender politics. And yet here I am participating in it on YouTube. Well, those who hate the rain still get wet.

It’s been a mildly down day for me. Nothing catastrophic, just having a hard time concentrating. I have this terrible feeling that I have become physically addicted to the caffeine in diet cola, and that really others me. For one thing, I am damned lucky to be as fat as I am and have a healthy heart and healthy blood pressure, and I should not be fucking with that.

But mostly it’s just offensive to me to be beholden to some substance for mental alertness. I know that sounds a little off coming from a guy on seven different meds, but those are prescription stuff and taking them is a medical necessity.

Not so with caffeine, and I just hate the very idea of being physically addicted to some substance. I consider the inside of my skull to be a sacred place where I am free of encumbrances and limitations, and so having my precious mentation dependent on some outside substances feels like a terrible violation.

So starting tomorrow, I will be off the stuff until next Friday night. That gives me most of five days to “dry out” from the stuff and reach some kind of equilibrium. With the Wellbutrin in my system, I don’t need any more stimulation anyhow. And perhaps it will improve my sleep.

Speaking of sleep, interesting development on the dream front. I actually came up with an idea for a comedy skit in a dream. God damn it, I am even funny when I’m asleep.

The idea is for a skit about the “subtle differences” between someone from France and someone from Quebec. The France side of things would be all the stereotypical stuff about art, monuments, refinement, and so forth, and the Quebec side would show toque-wearing Quebec hockey fans drinking beer and yelling at the players and looking just totally rough.

I think it would be a funny piece, and my intention for it would not be to mock Quebec, but instead to highlight how unique Quebec is and how cool and unpretentious Canada is, in general.

I could do a followup about “how to tell the difference between a Canadian and an American”, but that might be a little too easy.

Damned fun, though.

Been thinking a lot about honesty lately. Several weeks ago, a friend told me I was one of the most genuine people he has ever met (awww!), and that idea, of being a genuine person, has been circling in the whirlpool of my mind ever since.

I can’t say I have cultivated this genuine manner deliberately, and I suppose if I had, it would not be genuine at all. Honestly, I think it stems from being somewhat socially clueless, and yet a fairly open and charming person when I am relaxed.

I don’t know enough to conceal who I am, or why I should, or when.

But more than that, I don’t really want to either. I really hate the idea of hiding who I am. From childhood I have been my own person and I instinctively guarded my right to be who I am instead of being who society wanted me to be.

I can see now how that cost me dearly in a social sense. Most people are not comfortable about someone who is entirely themselves because it makes said person unpredictable and weird. It also makes you stand out in a crowd, and the nature of society is that most people don’t want to stand out, or at least, not to the extent to which I have taken it.

They want to blend in. They want to be accepted by the herd. They want to do what they are supposed to do, what is expected of them. I don’t blame these people for this and I certainly don’t look down on them for it. What they are doing is extremely human of them. I’m the outlier, the edge-dweller, the anomaly.

If anything, I find myself envying them and looking back and wondering what my life might have been like if I had been more willing to compromise my ever so precious individuality and blender in with my surroundings just a little better.

There has to be some sensible middle ground between total individuality and total conformity. A happy medium, where you get the benefits of both normalcy and get to keep most of your own individuality.

I am acutely aware of just what it is normal people get from being normal. Their mental worlds are far more safe, solid, and secure than mine. They are not out with us philosophers wandering the wilderness outside walls looking for something new.

They are safe inside the walls, warm and protected. Sure, they might have problems that their small world view cant’s handle from time to time, but at least they can rest from time to time.

Yes, I know what they get out of being normal. I largely deduced it by figuring out what I don’t have.

I am aware of it, but I don’t think it’s for me. I think some of us are born to roam. To go outside the known in search of new dreams, new visions, new truths, that we will then bring back to the herd like a hunter returning from the hunt, and try to use it to help us all, and participate thusly.

It isn’t an easy life. It’s cold out here in the void. And being so different and knowing so much makes it hard for most of the herd to stand you.

But we get by.

Rudolph gasped as the door opened and light from the outer hallway split his darkened and wretched little room in two, freezing him in place with terror.

Sometimes knowing something is coming only makes it worse, Rudolph thought as he stared at the tiny little troll of a man who now stood in the doorway. But that’s probably just what that sawed off little kike wants.

The small man entered the room, gave its desperate squalor a disapproving and not entirely unsympathetic glance, then smiled. “Hello Rudy. Long time no see. ”

Rudolph tried to laugh, but all that came out was a strangled sob, more of a honk than a laugh. “Not long enough, old friend. ”

“Quite long enough for me, thank you. Maybe not for you. Or maybe… maybe too long for both of us, eh?”

Rudolph tried to summon up all the lofty Aryan contempt he had ever felt for this genetically defective little monster, but hate is a young man’s game and he was just a tired old man now. All Rudolph could manage was to sneer slightly when saying “I don’t want your fucking pity, you goddamned troll. ”

The little man’s face was a picture of offense. “Why Rudy, you don’t look happy to see me!”

This time Rudolph did laugh. “You people and your little fucking jokes. You think you are so goddamned intellectual and hilarious but you are nothing but monkeys taught a few clever tricks! You hear that? Just shit eating MONKEYS!”

And then Rudolph pushed his luck too far. He tried to laugh a rich, hearty, contemptuous laugh, but it soon become wracking, spasmodic sobs as all the fear and stress of a life lived on the run finally caught up with him.

The little man sat next to Rudolph on the bag of wires and splinters that constituted a “bed” in this hellhole, and put a sympathetic arm around Rudolph’s shoulders as Rudolph sobbed and coughed and spat and then sobbed still more.

Eventually, the storm passed, and Rudolph shivered in the aftereffects of his emotional release, and found himself absurdly grateful for the warmth of the little man’s arm on his back, and his closeness in this time of crisis.

Him, the great SS commander Rudolph Straeder, grateful to a Jew! He wished he could find the energy to heap contempt upon himself. But it had been so long, so long.

“I didn’t come here to argue, Rudy. You know why I am here. ” said the little man.

“To bring me to justice. ” Rudolph replied hollowly.

“To bring you home, Rudy. ”

Rudolph looked up at the little man. “Home… to Germany?”

The little man smiled. “Yes. To Germany. To the old Bavaria that we both knew and loved, Rudy. I have arranged for you to there to await your turn in The Hague. ”

Rudolph blinked and stared at the little man. “Why… why would you do this for me?”

“Consider it a gift from one old friend to another. I have known you longer than I have known any of my wives and most of my children, Rudy. It was the least I could do. ”

Rudolph was flooded with gratitude for this gesture. “Oh, to see Bavaria again…. but surely it has changed since the days of my… of our childhoods, hasn’t it David?”

David shrugged, and said “Not as much as you would think. Not everywhere. There is still much of Old Bavaria left, if you know where to look. ”

Rudolph tried to imagine this but could not. He had abandoned all hope of ever seeing Germany again so long ago that the rebirth of this hope was almost painful. It was too bright a light to look upon.

But then Rudolph began to weep. “But what comes after, old friend… I cannot face that. To have all those people looking at me, hating me, judging me for things done a million lifetimes ago… it is too much for a tired old man to bear. ”

“I know, Rudy. And believe me, I would spare you if I could. But we both knew this day had to happen, and there is much more at stake here than the wishes of two broken down old men. ”

Rudolph nodded sadly. “But…. you could spare me… couldn’t you? Just… just walk away?”

David shook his head. “We both know that could never happen. Justice must be serves, Besides, at this point, I think starting up the chase again would kill the both of us. ”

They both laughed. God it feels good to laugh again, thought Rudolph. It has been so long since I laughed. What kind of Bavarian am I that I forgot how to laugh?

“Okay, then don’t let me go. But you can still spare me, old friend. You have a gun… I know you do. Use it on me. Say I was trying to escape. Spare me the humiliation to come. ”

“I admit, I am tempted. But I think we both know that duty is more important that pity, yes? And we both know that I, for one, am not a killer. ”

Rudolph nodded. He had known it was a faint hope. “So this is it, then. I go on trial. And I will tell the truth as I remember it, the whole thing. ” He squared his jaw. “But I will not lie to make myself the victim! When I did what I did, I was no helpless cog in the Nazi machine. I was not “just following orders”. I believed in our mission. To me, the slaughter of Jews and Gypsies and all the rest was nothing more than the burning of old leaves and branches to make way for a new, glorious Spring!” He thumped his chest and said “And I enjoyed it!”

“Believe me, I know, Rudy. You forget, I know everything about you. ”

Rudolph tried to resist what he knew he had to do next. But there was such a thing as honor, and honor was more important than pride. “Yes, you know me, David. But I have a confession to make : I do not remember you. Believe me, over the years I have tried, but I just can’t remember you from the camps. ”

David smiled a clever smile. “That’s because you never met me in the camps, Rudy. I am no survivor. I have no tattoo, no traumas, no marks on my bones from the starvation. I was never in one of your camps, Rudy. ”

“But… but… you have hunted me for so long…. I thought surely you were one of the… ”

“I was never in your camps, Rudy. But both my parents and three of my uncles were… and two of my children. And none of them survived to haunt you as I have. ”

“Ah. I see. But… maybe I am just a foolish old man, but I always thought that we knew each other, somehow.. that we had met long ago. ”

“You are correct, my friend, although do not feel bad, because we met as children. And even then, I knew a lot more about you than you did about me, because back then everybody knew you. You were Rudolph Straeder, wunderkind, boy genius, the one who spoke eight languages and devoured math textbooks like they were dime novels and who was so beautiful, they said, that old people would cover their mouths when they saw you for fear of eating you alive! ”

Rudolph smiled, and said “Those were good days. ”

“It was better time. ” David agreed. “And because you were so famous and well-liked, I am sure that our brief meeting meant a lot more to me than it did to you. I was, after all, just a sickly boy who loved detective stories and had to walk with a cane.”

Recognition dawned for Rudolph. “You… you were the boy with the cane! The cane that turned into an umbrella! And you walked me home in that terrible rain. I always wondered why you held on to my arm. At the time I thought it was just to keep from losing track of me in the rain.”

“It was that…. but it was also because with my cane turned into an umbrella, I could barely walk a single step without falling on my side like a colicky horse!”

Once more, they both laughed. “But you were… I never knew we had any… I mean, you seemed so.. ”

“Normal? Just like all your friends, just another German kid? It meant a great deal to me that you treated me that way. Most of the other children saw my cane and my limp and my strangely pale skin and steered well clear of me. Their mothers would pull them back when I walked by. But that day, you, the golden child, accepted my help and accepted me. I will never forget that. ”

“If only I had known…. maybe things would have been…. different. ”

David smiled. “Now we both know that’s not true, don’t we?” He stood up, and offered Rudolph his hand. “I think it is time to go, my old friend Rudy. ”

Rudolph nodded. “It’s… it’s really over, isn’t it?” He spoke like a man waking from a dream. “At long last, it’s finally over. ”

David smiled, and said “Yes, old friend. It is over. It is out of both our hands now. Finally, both of us can get some rest. ”

Rudolph took David’s hand, and rose. “Rest…. yes I think I’d like that. ” He smiled at David, feeling as if the man he had been before today had been washed away.

“You know what, David? I think I am glad to see you, after all. ”

I thought I had lost this story!

The Cat and the Elephant

“Excuse me, sir?” said the Cat.
“Yes? Can I help you? ” said the Elephant kindly.
“I’m looking for somebody. Have you seen a fellow named Shroedinger around? ” said the Cat.
“I’m afraid not. Is it very important that you find him? ” said the Elephant.
“Yes and no. ” said the cat, swishing its tail fretfully. “You see, he stuck me in this box with a vial of poison, and now I don’t know if I am alive or not. ”
“That sounds like an important thing to know. ” said the Elephant sympathetically.
“It rather is!” said the Cat. “I mean, not knowing if you’re alive or not really makes it diffucult to make plans. ”
“I can well imagine! ” said the Elephant. ” Well, I’m afraid that the only people who have been around here are those odd old blind men. ”
“Old blind men? ” asked the Cat curiously. ” What was so odd about them? ”
“Well, they were trying to figure out what I was. ” said the Elephant. “One of them got a hold of my trunk, and loudly declared that I was a snake. ”
The Cat laughed. “Some snake! ”
The Elephant smiled but did not laugh. “And some of the others agreed with him, and said I had so many snake-like properties, I must be a snake. ”
“So they decided you were a snake and left? ” asked the Cat, eyes alight with humour.
“Well no. ” said the Elephant. ” And this is the part that has me worried, because then another of them got hold of my tail, and delcared that I was, indeed, a rope. ”
“A rope? Not a snake? ” asked the Cat.
“Nope. A rope, with rope-like properties. And the rest all agreed with him, and started arguing with the first group. ”
“Oh, my fur and claws! ” said the Cat. “The things people get up to! ”
“Don’t I know it! ” said the Elephant, with a sigh. ” They went at it for hours, making very eloquent and complicated arguments about whether I was a rope or a snake. ”
“But you’re neither. ” said the cat matter-of-factly. ” You’re an elephant. ”
“Well you can see that, and I can see that, but they were too busy arguing their points to notice. ” said the Elephant.
“I guess that’s what makes them blind, I guess. ” said the Cat.
“And then they left, still arguing, and now I’m worried that they’ll just keep fighting and missing the point forever. ” said the Elephant.
“It’s not impossible. ” said the Cat thoughtfully. “Seems like a lot of people would rather win an argument than find the right answer. ”
“I know, and here I am, left waiting for them to come back. ” said the Elephant, and sighed. “Well, it’s not totally without hope. Some younger blind guys came along and started talking about this new theory that tried to explain that I was BOTH a snake AND a rope. Or rather, that I had a nature that ‘sometimes expresses itself as a snake and sometimes as a rope. ”
The Cat blinked, and said “But…. you’re an elephant. ”
“I know, I know… ” said the Elephant. ” And at this rate, it will take them forever to figure that out, and till then, they’ll just keep arguing. ” The Elephant sighed a long, sad sigh, and flicked its tail.
“And at this rate, I’ll never find out if I’m alive or dead!” said the Cat, then sighed his own long, sad sigh, and pawed at its whiskers.
The Elephant took a good long look at the Cat. ” Well you seem alive to ME. ” it declared.
“Really? ” said the Cat. “Are you sure? It’s very important. ”
The Elephant nodded firmly. “Yes. As far as I am concerned, you are alive. ”
“Oh thank goodness! ” said the Cat. “It’s such a relief to finally know! ”
“I’m glad to help. ” said the Elephant. “But all I did was look at you. ”
“Well, maybe you resolved the question just be observing me. ” said the Cat. “Anyhow, thank you…. um… come to think of it, what is your name? ”
“Quantum. ” said the Elephant. “And yours?”
“I’m not sure. ” said the cat. “It might be Heisenberg. I’m not certain. Anyhow, I should get going. I feel like finding someplace to collapse. Fair well, Quantum. Don’t worry too much about those old blind men, I think they’re happy how they are. ”
“I suppose so. ” said the Elephant. “And whether you’re Heisenberg or not, I hope you enjoy being alive. ”
“Thank you, I intend to! ” said the Cat.
And with that, the Cat disappeared.

Lots more dreaming of the usual variety. Super intense, wake up soaked in sweat and completely disoriented, takes a while to remember who I am and what is real.

I had to make a concerted effort to tell myself “I don’t have to deal with any of that any more because none of that was real” this morning. That kind of thing frightens me terribly.

Perhaps it;s different for people with rich, deep personal lives which contain plenty of real life stimulation and input, and thus the distinction between the dream world of imagination and the real world is comfortably sharp and distinct, and their dreams do not haunt them.

But for me, with my life already at least half imaginary, with days spent on the Internet playing video games and chatting with people thousands of miles away, intense dreams like that frighten me so much because I feel like the line between my imagination and reality is already dangerously thin, and so anything which stresses it too much makes me feel like am in danger of entering my own personal hell : being trapped inside my own mind forever, with no way out.

One nice thing about being as old as I am : I am well out of the usual age range of the onset of schizophrenia, one of the definitions of which (there’s many) is : a breakdown of the mind’s ability to tell what is imagined from what is real.

Usually, if you are not showing signs by the age of 25 (coincidentally, the exact age when your age-related brain development ends), you are out of the woods re: being schizophrenic.

Being damn near 40, I am reasonably sure I will not go there. Or at least, I am rationally sure I am out of the woods.

But that does not eliminate the very powerful subjective feeling that I am at constant risk of a descent into utter madness, and hence, I live every day clinging to sanity by my fingers while dangling over a cliff face overlooking the pits of Hell.

Maybe that is an entirely false idea, and if I “let go” I would not fall into the heart of darkness, but just come to Earth, safe and sound and calm and collected and no longer so freaked out by life.

But that is just not going to happen. At least, not all at once. Perhaps it is this terror of madness that is truly driving me insane… I don’t know.

But it is an integral part of my psyche now, and I do not know how to live a natural life. I am my own construction, artificial and illusory, with thought substituted for emotion and a constant imposition of artificial concepts of order onto a living, breathing, organic being.

Thus, I craft my own cage, and squeeze the life out of myself, all in the name of trying to make sense of things. Truly, it is tragically absurd and absurdly tragic to be me.

But you had probably figured that out by now.

And the sad thing is, I will probably go right back to sleep when I am done this journal entry. Apparently, my dreams are not done with me yet. I am still quite tired and need more rest.

Hopefully, I will have enough time to get some editing done today too. It should not be a problem. I can’t imagine I will sleep all afternoon. But I figured I should get the day’s blogging done first.

I suppose another sort of person might think “Well, you are editing, do you really need to keep blogging as well? Isn’t the editing enough?”

And another kind of person might be able to make that trade. But not me. I can only maintain any sort of discipline if I make it absolutely rigid and unforgiving. And that means writing new words every day. A thousand words a day minimum. Anything else I do has to be in addition to that.

Otherwise, I will lose all discipline and end up sliding into a steep decline, at the bottom of which I will be even more depressed than usual because I am no longer even writing any more, and I will feel even more pointless, useless, and futile than ever before.

So, a thousand words a day, come what may. I do not always feel like doing it, but I am always glad I did. Even just bleating out my injuries like this does me a lot of good.

Editing, on the other hand… get used to hearing this… is so damn hard. Writing, all I have to do is… write. Editing, I actually have to start thinking about the work as a whole, and that is very hard for me.

So I suspect I largely… won’t. There is no point in shouldering a burden you know will crush you, and so I will be a while working on my editing muscles before I can handle taking on the whole thing at once.

Instead, I will just go through and make what changes I can. Tighten up the language, correct continuity errors, proofread, and so on. Little stuff.

The bigger picture (usually my strong suit) will have to wait. I will go forward on the assumption that while I can’t guarantee the whole thing is brilliant as a whole, it is all good enough to be fun to read and interesting to get into, and let the rest sort itself out.

Perhaps that is all I can reasonably expect of myself. No magnum opus of tight, muscular prose building to a mind blowing thematic conclusion that propels me into the annals of literary giants and changes the world and how we look at it forever.

Just a good read that leaves you feeling good even after you are done, and makes you eager to spend more time in my little sandbox.

Put that way, it seems like a much more reasonable goal, and one I think I can achieve.

I will leave it up to future scholar to figure out what the hell I was talking about all this time.