The Rookie

"Well, partner, it's just you and me now. You're unconscious, so you won't mind me saying that I'm a rookie at this..."

Kendell tried to lighten the room as he held the tiny object directly above the patient's lacerated flesh. He knew where it belonged, and relaxed as his fellow surgeons quietly observed, hidden behind their masks and vacuous silence. This was his first time at the center of the operating table, and he knew he was prepared.

The classes, the study, the lectures...they had all groomed him for this moment. Here he was, as he had always imagined, a tiny god among men. The fate of his patient was now entirely dependent upon him and his capabilities. His hand was steady. With a last confident glance at his mentor, the piece descended into the cavity. His concentration was immaculate.

The first centimeter was fluent, the implant lowered into the proper place. He dropped it successfully, breathing a sigh of relief. Now he ever so slowly lifted his tool from the cavity. Focus, control...higher...higher...

BUUUZZZZ!

"DAMN! Lost him."

The patient's nose turned bright red and the game board rattled with the mild electric current.

"No worries, tiger, you're blood-alcohol level will be lower for your debut by tomorrow morning."

"Well, I better not take any chances. Pass me a beer. I'd feel more comfortable knowing I had performed this one thoroughly inebriated."

"Sure thing, chief." Crack. "Hey look, 12:01...here's to your first day on the job."

"Cheers! Alright, partner, the anesthesiologist says it's just you and me again. You'll be glad to know I've performed this procedure once before, and I think I know what went wrong that time."

Repeal Women's Rights

Mary Wollstonecraft. Ever heard of her? She was an 18th century writer, philosopher, and feminist. She opposed the subjugation of women, particularly in marriage, and was a prolific writer. She wrote sparkling political essays, thought provoking philosophical treatises, and captivating works of fiction. While reading, if I was any more obsessive, I might have found myself in an unfortunate love affair with her. The droves of you who are envious of this sentiment can be relieved that she died over 200 years ago.

She compared marriage to an insane asylum, whereby the woman, as the inmate, was subject to her husband's wishes. This was the plot in her novel, Maria. Indeed, physical and verbal abuse, neglect, and even rape were seldom if ever valid crimes if perpetuated by a husband against his spouse. Women in general had very little legal recognition by themselves. It seems like an awful state of affairs intolerable by any sensible woman.

Mary experienced the wrath of men first hand as the child of a reckless husband, later as a friend/lover of a woman in an abusive marriage, and then herself the subject of a distant husband. She seems to have had little reason to care for men at all given her experiences. Yet, her writing inspired the greatest romantic poets of all time including William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor.

After decades of misery, suicide attempts, and loneliness, her final months were spent in happiness with her lover, William Godwin. She died shortly after their relationship began, and he was left to publish much of her work, including the love letters she had written to her former husband. Sound familiar? Yes, it's the real life Moulin Rouge. And, it's available for all to see. I warn anyone who follows this path to prepare for a heart wrenching tale. (After having to much time at work, I found myself mercilessly sucked into them.)

I truly wonder how a soul so bitten by men could have any affection for them whatsoever. Her writing begs the question...should women have rights at all? Maybe they were simply designed to be locked up in cages so they could write eloquent tales of the relentless human spirit...rage against depression, that sort of thing.

Yes, I said it. Us men need to ban together and repeal all women's rights, down to the last one. I say they have one right; to live in our private dungeons writing brilliant essays and love letters. What?

Natural Resources

Did you hear they're giving out free money?

Did I? Of course, I got my share already.

You did?

Hell yeah.

I thought they were only giving money to companies that were in trouble.

That's right.

Well, you are doing just fine.

I was.

So, what happened?

Well, we were working very hard to make a profit. Too hard. So, we just started being lazy.

Being lazy?

Right, we figured, "why work when you could collect from the government instead."

So, in order to collect, I need to be a troubled business too?

That's right. Just screw up a lot, you're already pretty good at that. You'll be rolling in it in no time. Just make sure you file the papers correctly.

So, the only thing I really need to do is file the request properly? If I've got a whole company devoted simply to filing a few papers, I can't lose.

That's right. And, when you get bailed out, your stock price will go up too. The shareholders will think you will use that money to improve business rather than file more claims. See? Government is really our greatest natural resource!

I better get started doing nothing.

You better hurry, others already have a head start.

We'll never make it

We'll never make it.

What do you mean?

We'll never make it.

But, the landing is right there. See, we made it.

Hm.

Alright, time to unload the canoe and portage to the next lake.

Hm.

I've got the canoe, you've got the pack, alright, let's go.

We'll never make it.

We haven't even taken a step yet.

We'll never make it.

See, we made it across. Now we just need to go back and take one more trip. Then we can paddle to the next landing.

Hm.

See, we made the trip again. We've packed the canoe up, and now we are paddling. See paddle, paddle.

Hm.

There is the island. That is our campsite.

We'll never make it.

There. We've pitched the tent. Now, let's make some dinner.

We'll never make it.

Okay, I can make it myself.

Hm.

There, now, wasn't that delicious.

Mm.

Let's get some sleep.

Hm.

Good morning. Sun's up. If we pack up now we can make it back to the car by noon.

We'll never make it.

See, we made it, and almost as soon as we hoped. It's only 12:15!

We didn't make it.

Hm. Okay, let's pack the car.

We didn't make it.

Alright, we've packed the car, let's try to make it to a nice restaurant.

We didn't make it.

If we take a shortcut we can get there faster.

We'll never make it.

Hm.

Finding the Something

Not long ago, on a day much like any other, I became paralyzed by the Nothing. Like dusk, it descended all around me. It was akin to a mysterious fog, invisible but for the slightest vibration among the still, heavy air. To discern its source or character seemed impossible, yet the silent roar could not be muffled. Though it could not be seen, its stench lingered, a remnant of the horrors washed upon mankind in its wake. Afflictions credited to something were frequently caused by the Nothing. Yet, all continued to insist that the Nothing did not exist.

I asked why.

To stave off madness? Indeed, so horrid a thing can hardly be conceived. Yet, it breathes all around me. If I am mad, the Nothing has won, but the slight chance I am not prompts me to describe the misfortune of awakening adrift at its edge, then snatched within. The few who have escaped are loath to recollect its horrors, if they could even identify the source. I would certainly rather forget. But, for love of even my most wicked adversary, I submit these observations to allow for the Nothing's identification should circumstance will its proximity. This is not an easy task. Indeed, the fact that it is called the "Nothing" scarcely hints at its deceptive and amorphous nature. Perhaps only a fool endeavors to describe a thing that is not, yet conscience compels me to do so in a quest for truth. It can be confirmed by reason and the balance of my earthly experience that no soul, no matter how spiteful, wretched, or numb, deserves a fate so uniquely seductive and vicious as to be swallowed by the Nothing.

It might have been the Nothing described by fantasy novelist Michael Ende, but so perverse and vacuous that its identification invokes instant dread of accidentally traipsing beyond its event horizon. So void and pernicious are the jaws of this sphere that imagination itself seems its only competent adversary...simply for diversion or denial. Alas, how could I turn my head from so curious an animal? Souls whipped to or from as I stood calmly, facing its core directly. I stepped blithely forward. In hindsight, it seems that no aware victim doomed to this vortex would reject submission to its core directly, stretched efficiently into two, then four, then sixteen pieces. A fate such as this, while terrifying, seems far preferable to the dizzying trek that began for me along the fringes of its gravitational field.

Its first offering was sweet and delicious; a soft word of adoration. These sounds were convincing enough to flatter, and attractive to those even slightly adrift in its most remote regions of influence as I was. Soothing and agreeable to the listener, I must warn that these words are actually torn from the Nothing's lips with such reluctance that a blood-curdling shriek is heard by all who float nearer than its most remote target. Such effort is required by the Nothing to utter these incantations that its great body, spanning light years, is reduced to the brink of death as a consequence. It shudders in horror that such depraved a sacrifice is necessary to invite the intended subjects, but the distant bounty is most precious to the Nothing. To me, these utterances were the sound of life, springing forth from the most pure and humble sympathies of mankind. I approached them openly. In fact, they were the opposite. They were words so removed from the hearts and minds of man that none unfamiliar with the nature of the Nothing could conceive the possibility of their existence. Their subtlety was matched only by their wrath. Yet, I continued as a lone wealthy man among a pack of thieves, each fearful of one another as I strolled past, untouched.

Once drawn to its outer limits the leisurely pace was calm and hypnotic. I gradually drifted into a distant orbit, lulled by suggestion in a sea of diluted contentedness. The gentle ride was soothing, and I found myself given to a mystical trance. While perfectly at ease, the Nothing extended a tendril, which caressed me affectionately. I hardly noticed when it entered my nostril, and remained in a detached stupor as it latched securely to my brain. At this point the exact mechanism is little understood. We know the transfer of knowledge begins without resistance, depicting awe-inspiring images of scenery, natural wonders, and joyful experiences. For me, beautiful waterfalls, sunsets, and visions of innocence; happiness. This portion of the treatment, they say, is always accepted. What follows evokes a unique and unpredictable response in every individual. When the tendril is fully embedded, injustice, deception, envy, and rage are delivered to the unsuspecting prisoner. Discomfort evolves to sadness, then horror as war, death, plague, famine are injected into the cerebral cortex. Practicality prevents personal disclosure of my experience. I will say that before long I writhed in agony, desperate to break free. The struggle grew violent as the organ was stretched, prodded, and squeezed with indiscriminate truths, stark fallacies, and vapid irrelevancies. The pain was excruciating as reason demanded harsh acknowledgment of terrible truths including a vast unknown, growing to tempt superstition. I knew better. Contradictions battled within as my body was spun around the perimeter with increasing velocity. The acceleration pushed me to the exterior while my arms and legs flailed about. The tendril, which had originally pulled me deep into the center, neared exhaustion and attempted to eject me back to the outer ridge as I wrestled with it. As it released I would have broken free if I hadn't, by reflex, grasped one of its serpent-like extremities. Rather than being restored to the realm of the something, I found myself falling back through the chaos of space time. It was a lonely spiral of death, affixed to what remained of the tendril's overwhelming offerings, and the wriggling souvenir I had ripped from its terrible tip. I then found myself free to roam among the nothing, as the many dark tendrils lashed around me harmlessly, and seemed to digest the balance of humanity before my eyes.

The peaceful recesses of the outer journey was soon a distant memory as the frantic air of the middle sphere enveloped me. The region was crowded, and desperation brought us together in a frenzy of exchange, each promising the other a way out. Individuals who joined me at the fringe of this circumference were generally of regular human size. With little hesitation some companions began moving forward, even crawling over one another toward the blackness. With progress each became ever more bloated, expanding exponentially in size. Their heads grew disproportionally to their bodies, first approaching the size of moons, then planets. My hands covered my eyes and I peeked through my fingers as they pulled themselves into the dark torrent, at first with great difficulty, but soon with ease. The mass they accumulated helped pull them toward the center, and the same amount of labor brought an increasing amount of speed. We watched these events come to pass in sadness. We could see that it was all part of the same mechanism; the Nothing's feeding ground. It has one purpose...to fatten its pigs so that they can be swallowed...so that it can build strength for its next shriek. Words can scarcely be arranged to hint at the nature of this manifestation, although I can confirm its existence with complete certainty.

It is not advisable to look directly into the Nothing, a wise man once hinted. Rumor has it, one who looks straight into its depraved center is seduced instantly and consumed. I, however, was not afraid, as I found myself outside its many tubular extremities, and one does not approach its core by any other means. As such, with a calm, investigative disinterest, I directed my powerful looking glass into the darkest portion and turned the region into focus. What befell my eyes can only be described as fantastic. By following one tendril to its source I witnessed the most curious phenomenon. One head had expanded to the size of many suns and whipped in orbit around the center many times a second. Its dizzying speed was further compromised by a furious revolution, spinning like a top at an incalculable rate. From my perspective, little or no sense could be made of it all. Yet, other objects flew in orbit around this giant, further confusing the situation. Every object was locked in a disorderly maelstrom of activity, bouncing against one another, crashing one another into pieces, and so forth.

My eyes do not deceive me, yet my mouth is ill-constituted, and pen insufficient, to utter a description of so dreadful a sight. Yet, I am nonetheless obligated to use the limits of my capacity in good faith that my words are interpreted to derive from without rather than from within. I might begin by depicting the ravenous ingestion of intoxicating liquors, as a dipsomaniac awakens in a panic to quench his addiction. The foundation of the tendril is not the Nothing after all, but a head so engorged that perpetual, systematic consumption is necessary for its sustainance. Indeed, only one tendril emanates from this abysmal source, then sprouts into two, then four, then sixteen more, like branches of a tree. Each junction facilitates the combination of moon-size entities into planets, then planets into stars, then stars into bigger stars. It imbibes through the interrior of the single great tendril, ripping the life from its lessor subjects, who are, surprisingly, the most unsuspecting of victims. Their bodies become twisted and their celestial heads become warped as the giant orb snatches the most engorged, chewing mightily between its blood-spattered lips. The head, which now bears little resemblance to even the most feral human, grows as large as some galaxies, devouring with ease and a maligned gracefulness.

Through the centuries it has often masticated sensibly, but in times of abundance the voracious appetite cannot be suppressed. Its malevolence can only be compared to its merciless, pedantic nature. It does nothing but feed for the sake of feeding and nothing more. It has no other purpose, direction, or meaning than to ingest the balance of humanity into its void.

How does one forewarn of so ubiquitous and cryptid an animal? With sadness I report that conscious action within a tendril almost always accellerates its victom toward the center like a frantic man burried in quicksand. Indeed, loving the captor, and with great effort, they all swim forward. I watch with pain and angst as they struggle towards the Nothing's core, always expecting something else...always expecting something.

In this state I continue to observe, daring not submit to the unknown whims of the Nothing's grasp, yet knowing many an approach to its deepest recesses. Having seen the fate of so many a friend and foe, to enter a tendril evokes dread so great that I fear no degree of human courage or honor could possibly defend one against its severe temptations. For now I consider simply lopping off its horrid tails, and their contents, so that its diet may be reduced.

To starve the Nothing. That is what I shall do.

Brain Chains

It can be concluded with complete accuracy that clouds are white. On that topic we can all certainly agree. The existence of gray clouds does not contradict the statement "clouds are white," but only validates another true statement, that being, "clouds are gray." The statements "clouds are white" and "clouds are gray" are both entirely accurate. We have exhaustive evidence that further study or discrimination relating to the color of clouds can only lead to frustration, divisiveness, and additional questions exponential in quantity and complexity. We have complete conviction that these questions are futile because they are beyond any individual's intellectual capacity, inclination, or usefulness. Therefore, we can be confident that the acceptance of these two phrases is not only acceptable, but complete in every way, and further thought on the subject is in error. And, that concludes our investigation into the color of clouds. Class dismissed.

The Law

Some rules can be bent, others can be broken.

Didn't Lawrence Fishbourne say that in some movie?

Morpheus, in The Matrix.

That's right, The Matrix. So, which ones can be bent?

I think the key word is rules. If you follow all the rules blindly all the time, you'll be miserable. It's unsustainable. To live well and benefit from these so called "rules," you must know their reason and purpose. By following your heart, understanding the reasoning, and living your life accordingly, they sometimes bend. You will hardly even notice.

Alright. My heart tells me I want to be President of the United States. That's a worthy purpose. Which rules can I bend to get there?

None. I told you. You can't force the rules to bend, it will just happen...a side-effect. Also, they bend according to others, but never from your own perspective.

How is that useful to me?

It isn't, really. It's just an observation.

Then why are you telling me?

Because I noticed the rules bending around me, that's all.

Why do I care?

Well, because my actions may seem confusing to you, that's why. I just want you to know I'm not psycho.

No guarantees, man. I already think that. But, tell me, how can rules seemingly bend for some and not others?

It's like physics. You know anything about physics?

Sort of.

Well, look at nature. You throw a ball up and it always comes down, right? It's the law of gravity. Well, you can put the ball in a cylinder with wings on both sides welded to a jet engine and keep it in the air for a very long time. But, it will eventually come down, right?

I suppose, but what if you launch it into space?

Then it may never come down. You see, you can never escape the law of gravity, but if you understand it, you can do things that seem to break the law that really don't.

So, it's all relative?

Never in fact, only in perception. Everyone must follow the law of gravity, but by accepting it, and working with it, you can do things that, to others, seem to break the law.

Sounds like a different frame of reference...that the law applies to some differently than others. I think you are talking about moral relativism. I don't agree with that. My pastor says moral relativists go to hell.

The laws of nature apply to everyone equally. Some are exposed to those laws differently than others. Let's look at Einstein's theory of special relativity. A person moving really fast, like, nearing the speed of light, will age slowly. A day to them may seem like a week to someone hanging out on earth. Neither person notices the difference as it is happening, but when the traveler returns to earth, his or her watch will have lost time. This even happens to astronauts orbiting earth. They lose a few seconds as they're zipping around the planet. It's called time dilation. They used this mechanism to explain how they got into the future in Planet of the Apes.

So, basically, you are saying that time travel is a scientific fact?

Yes, theoretically, a person can travel into the future. If you've been on a plane you already have, but only a few microseconds. See, you've already broken the 'law' and you didn't even know it.

Is there a way to go back in time? I want that time back.

No. Sorry. That is against the law.

But, a few microseconds is completely useless. There is no way to get close to the speed of light with our technology. Why even discuss the law of gravity in the first place?

Just to demonstrate that physical laws can seem inconsistent when they really aren't. Laws of ethics and morality have exotic properties too, especially in extreme cases. Sometimes, what seems like the bending of rules is simply the natural universe doing its unpreventable thing. I'm just pointing out the similarities.

Sounds to me like you are trying to rationalize behavior you know is wrong...against the law.

Maybe I am. Maybe not. Depends which set of laws you are thinking of. Sometimes the laws of man violate the laws of nature. Some folks convince themselves that they are above any law for reasons inconsistent with the law itself; killing for peace, stealing for one's own good, etc. Some folks trust themselves a lot, and can overlook the contradictions, rationalize. I never could do that. What little I know keeps me pretty humble.

So, which rules have you bent?

None, according to me anyway. My rules don't bend, as much as others' think they do. Yesterday someone called me a psychopath. I wasn't hurt. I don't take it personally anymore. I never could bear to break or even bend the real rules...not one bit, once I understood them. Doing so never made any sense to me...

Is that why they put you in here?

Guess so...

Well, looks like my time is up. They sure don't allow much visitation, do they?

Nope, not in maximum security.

Alright. See you next month, man. You may be bat-crazy psycho, but I don't blame you for following your heart.

Ha, didn't know I had a choice. Well, see you then, man.

Under Underwater World

The cavern air became warm, then balmy as we descended. I watched the man in front of me unbutton his shirt and wipe his forehead. The line seemed to stretch for infinity in both directions. Perched on my father's shoulder, I turned around and watched the long row of men, women, and children fade into the darkness behind me. Ahead I could detect a warm red glow illuminating the heads of the tallest men. I was starting to get hungry, and looked at my watch. It was well after noon, and our tour was advertised to include a light lunch.

My mother and sisters stood silent. Over the first hour the promise of sharks and eels had grown from giddy anticipation, to frustration, to subdued outrage. I wasn't bothered much...too curious. There was a dampness shimmering on both sides, and drops flashed tiny specks of light among the bleak darkness. Several landed on my head. We seemed to have walked for miles into the earth. The cavern had grown narrow and the adults stood single file. There could be movement in one direction only...down. The very fat man behind us left no doubt of that.

We shuffled toward the exhibit and wondered what emergency had possibly trapped us. I imagined an asteroid or other cataclysm had annihilated the earth far above and we were miraculously spared because we happened to be in line for Underwater World. I knew the reality was likely mundane...a cracked aquarium or something that required a detour. The exhibit exit was far off on the other side of the mall.

I felt sorry for my sister Jane. It was her birthday, and she began to cry as mother held her against her shoulder, stroking her hair. She always loved watching fish swim among the reefs on the Discovery Channel, and dad had teased her all week about our upcoming trip to this place. "Fish day is coming! WEEE!," as he spun her around, "it will be the fishiest day all month!"

I was less enthusiastic about sea life, and found the alternative scenario much more mysterious and interesting. We had no contact with anyone. Our cell phones had no signal, and we had received no announcements or word from folks in front of us or behind us. There was a circular chatter: "Do you know what's going on?" "Nope, you?" "Not at all." The man in front of us tried to push his way back toward the entrance, but could not fit around the man behind us. Things got a bit unsettling as he started to freak out...claustrophobic I guess. Dad shut him up with a few calm words. I didn't hear what they were, but they worked.

Over the next hour the glow became more intense, the heat, beastly. Removed from my throne atop dad, I could see nothing but legs and arms through the red. I remember thinking the emergency lighting was poor, leaving our feet to stumble on the shallow steps. The cavern grew silent and eerie, and I wanted desperately to know what lay ahead. It was probably in the third hour that the line stopped moving entirely. As much as I resisted, fear started to overcome the boredom.

Finally, the stillness jumped as a thunderous bang echoed through the hallway. To our great relief, within minutes the line began to move slowly forward. Jane was no longer interested in seeing a live Ahi Tuna, she just wanted to get out of there and back up to the mall. We couldn't agree more.

A dry heat began to blast as we moved forward. There were red lights on the wall and the hallway widened. We walked around a corner and were delighted to see an open passage into a larger space. Jane might see her Ahi after all, I thought. Before I had even entered I saw little chance for Ahi, or even an aquarium, but something nonetheless incredible...

Orange and red light danced among the clean stone walls on all sides, lit by burning braziers. The ceiling was high and rocky with stalactites hanging freely among the towering pillars. It was expansive, with a sleek marble staircase up the middle and then leading in both directions to a balcony on both sides. The railings were masonry and featured gargoyles on the ends. Men in dark robes with hoods loomed above on all sides with arms folded into their large, hanging sleeves. There was not an eel or even a catfish to be seen.

We entered and found a vacant slab of polished floor to stand on. Jane was smiling. Mom held her hand. The room became gradually littered with colorful shirts. Roving bipeds of all shapes and sizes ambled about aimlessly, cameras around their necks. I saw the large man who had been waiting behind us draw his head back to admire the balcony, exposing his hairy gut.

"Must be the lobby," a young man reported. Most people were casually meandering about as if they were in a gift shop or museum. They took pictures of each other against the murals painted on one of the walls.

More folks hobbled in behind us, many gracing the area with an opinion: "I will be getting a refund." "A Refund? This is kidnapping! I'll be seeing the owner in court." Mom and dad stood still among us kids, looking around. Dad seemed more quiet than usual, I think he may have been concerned.

A man walked up a couple steps and yelled up at one of the stoic gentlemen "hey, Zoolander, what's the best way out of here?" He remained still and silent, face barely noticeable within the shade of his large hood. "Hey, I'm talking to you, peaches."

Suddenly, a steel slab crashed down over the passage we had just walked through. It's concussion shook the stone floor and was followed by a chorus of screams. A voice penetrated the area:

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Under Underwater World. I am your guide, Mel, and I'm so glad you took time out of your busy schedules to join us today. Please place both feet along the black circle on the floor."

A man responded immediately. "Uh, we're her for the marine life, man. But, we've been trapped in a cave for four hours. We are ready to go home now."

Another chimed in. "Oh, and you validate parking, right? I mean, it's been all afternoon."

The voice roared: "Stand on the black circle!"

There was a dark marble strip that formed a large circle. It occupied the area between the entrance and the bottom of the stairs. The several dozen of us grumbled as we did what we were told. Soon everyone was positioned in a circle, most facing inward. Mom and dad stood on either side of us kids.

The creepy druid-like characters turned and walked around the balcony and down the stairs. There were four of them, and two walked within the circle and began distributing what looked like small, white tokens. They gave one to each individual. I took mine and began to play with it, flipping it into the air and catching it, as if playing heads and tails. It wasn't very fun...both sides were plain.

"Congratulations, brothers and sisters, each of you has been given one token. In this place you will find no mercy for any soul lacking a token. As such, each of you has actually been given precisely one life. You have complete equality. I suggest you care for your token accordingly."

Mom placed her hand on my shoulder. I still didn't know if this was a game or what. Dad just stood there, looking around anxiously.

A man on the other side of the circle raised his hand, then began speaking...

"Um, sir, my name is Harmon, and I'm afraid this is a big mistake. We all came for Underwater World, not Under Underwater World, and must have taken the wrong tunnel. Can you let us out of here, please so we can all just go home? I have a very important engagement to attend this evening."

"Oh, absolutely, Harmon. Anyone may leave at any time, of course. I only ask that you to return your token."

A druid stood in the middle of the circle with his hand out, ready to accept the token. Harmon slowly walked toward the center of the circle. He held the token over the druid's hand. He thought about the words spoken earlier, and wondered what was meant by "mercy."

Suddenly, the druid snatched the token from Harmon's hand and instantly impaled him through the chest with his staff. Harmon uttered a terrifying screech and fell to the ground dead.

Everyone in the circle began to panic, screaming and crying. I couldn't see a thing after that. Dad covered my eyes. But, after the ruckus settled down a bit, I could see the trail of blood. Apparently someone dragged him off somewhere. The voice rumbled back to life...

"Now, we have one extra token. Who wants it? Remember, one token gets you out of this place. But, now you know what happens without one."

The druid tossed the extra token into the middle of the circle.

Almost without hesitation, two young men dashed from either side and dove to retrieve the token. One man touched it first, but fumbled it, and the other grabbed it and held it tightly against his chest, curling into a ball. The man who fumbled the token walked back to his place in the circle. He pulled his own token out of his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers.

"Congratulations, sir, what is your name?"

He held a token in each hand. "I'm Andrew."

"Well, Andrew, you have an extra token. You may exchange it for passage out of here and back to the mall above. Once you exchange your extra token, it will be destroyed."

A woman spoke up from across the circle. "Wait, this isn't equality! Andrew has two tokens. Didn't you promise us equality?"

"You all still have your original token. I am sad about the misfortune of our fallen friend, but safe passage from this place costs exactly one token."

"But this isn't fair," an older gentleman bellowed. "Some of us never had a chance to acquire that extra token in the first place!"

"Who said it was fair. I only promised equality..."

"But all of us should have an equal opportunity to acquire the token. That is equality..."

"The token was dropped directly in the center of the circle. Do you believe you deserve Andrew's token?"

"Maybe I do."

"Well then, I think we can all agree that you deserve the token and Andrew does not. However, giving you the token instead does not make our situation any more equal, does it? Besides, if you have the right to take one token from Andrew, what stops others from claiming the right to take one token from you?"

"Well, it's my only one. I have none to spare."

"Neither does he, mate."

The man scoffed and threw his hands up in the air. The voice grew stronger...

"Andrew, look around you," the voice rumbled. "In order to leave, you need to hand one token to the druid, and then exit the circle. One of these people must let you through, despite the fact that they cannot join you. Once one of them does, you are free to go. If no one volunteers to allow you passage, you will rejoin the circle, retaining both tokens."

Andrew looked around at the grim faces around him. They were horrified with what they had seen. He wanted to bring them all with, especially the children. Then he thought about his own children. He decided he had no choice but to proceed. He handed the druid his extra token and walked to the edge of the circle. In front of him stood a large man with arms crossed, a fortress. He moved to the side and found a woman with an equally stern disposition. The older gentleman also stood his ground. They would simply not let Andrew pass.

I watched as he slowly came my direction. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. One after another, each person blocked him from leaving. How could it be? I wondered how folks could be so stubborn. I started to tremble, hoping he didn't make it all the way to me. How could I bear to keep him trapped? Such a thing was unthinkable.

Finally, he was standing in front of dad. I looked around and saw the menacing faces fixated on my father. I knew dad would let him pass. Dad was a good man, probably the best man ever. He looked at mom and then me. I looked at him calmly...I knew he would do the right thing. He smiled at me.

Then he did something I'll never forget. He did not budge, crossing his arms.

Before I knew it Andrew was standing in front of me. I was shaking. I looked at dad, then mom. I knew what was right. I knew it. Dad must be testing me. "Not one bit of harm could possibly come of anyone here by simply letting Andrew pass," I thought. "He had everything to gain and we had nothing to lose...after all, everyone still had their token." I stood back and let Andrew pass to the outside as gasps echoed around the circle. (I'm still sorta confused about that.)

The voice erupted. "Thank you, young man. Alright, you are all free to go now. Hermon, you cleaned up yet? Show these folks out of here so they can see some fish. Oh, and someone fix that heater. It feels like a furnace in here."

Alternative ending 1:
Before I knew it Andrew was standing in front of me. I was shaking. I looked at dad, then mom. I knew what was right. "Not one bit of harm could possibly come of anyone here by simply letting Andrew pass," I thought. "He had everything to gain and we had nothing to lose...after all, everyone still had their token." Still, I had to stand my ground. I decided to follow dad's lead. After all, what did I know about right and wrong compared to him?

He approached the last man in the circle. His eyes were closed. He was deep in thought.

"Yes, Andrew, I will let you pass. But, you owe me $10 if I ever get out of this."

They shook hands.

The voice erupted. "Thank you, gentlemen. Alright, you are all free to go now. Hermon, you cleaned up yet? Show these folks out of here so they can see some fish. Oh, and someone fix that heater. It feels like a furnace in here."

Andrew handed the man $10. "Should have asked for more..."

The man shrugged. "Well, could have done worse, I guess."

Alternative ending 2:
Before I knew it Andrew was standing in front of me. I was shaking. I looked at dad, then mom. I knew what was right. "Not one bit of harm could possibly come of anyone here by simply letting Andrew pass," I thought. "He had everything to gain and we had nothing to lose...after all, everyone still had their token." Still, I had to stand my ground. I decided to follow dad's lead. After all, what did I know about right and wrong compared to him?

The man continued around the circle. Not one person let him through. He returned to his place along the circumference. He had two tokens, but one was entirely useless. He tossed it into the middle of the circle and all immediately jumped to grab it. The man who had fumbled it earlier managed to pull it out of the hand of another.

All returned to the edge as this man stood for a while in the center. He walked up to the man who had been denied exit...

"Sir, I ask you if you will graciously allow my passage."

"Why should I let you through? You refused me."

It was no use. He held the tokens in his hand. He recognized the complete hopelessness of the situation. They all did.

And therefore, they remained in their circle until all but one died of heat exhaustion and/or dehydration. Mom lived, and got to see Underwater world on her way out. She held Jane's emaciated corpse as she walked feebly through the exhibit.

Poison

You can't ask a question like that. I'll tell you one thing straight up. There are some things a sane man will not admit. Silence is the cursed witness' sanity.

You see, I never seen life fade from an honest man's eyes when he tells the truth, quite the opposite...it's the aftershocks that sting, the skeptic's steel glare. The glint fades with time, years. It's a slow death, like a starving man with a belly full of leaves and grass. You can feed him with trust, but he's learned to accept cactus and tumbleweed. He sees the poison and might choose to submit to the earth instead, obscure and delirious. Or, he eats the poison, come what may. If true, delicious, but the weight of silence grows heavier. Why curse a trusting soul with such a fate? It is enough that they are invited. Between them less than a nod will suffice, if that.

It ain't a life for everyone, and that's a good path for some folks. You ever seen a good bullshitter lose his mind? Nope. He tells you what you can believe. He might even believe it. Hell, it might even be true. You ever heard a mother singing a lullaby about a deadly psychotic episode while rocking her baby? I recon it saved a life or two. Might have saved my life, knowing my mother. That's a regular dose of sanity for the chronically insane. Truth to some, absurd to others, irrelevant to most.

I see those eyes of yours. You see, son, a truth stranger than fiction is useless unless you're a good bullshitter. I ain't one, so you best be moving along now.

Got Nothing

Things are fine. Contentedness; a god awful state to try to write anything. Things seem fair and righteous somehow, or at least I am not bothered by them. Terrifying. Vacancy, and I am not even drunk. Will remedy soon. But, for now, where is the injustice to stew over? Where is the strife? Where is the anger? Where is the beauty to counteract all those things? Must find. Must digest and contemplate, still nothing. A death spiral to crush. It is the most wicked thing...to have nothing worth writing about, and I am afraid I endure it with a dull agony that is oh so inadequate.