Cassandra Fable – Nursing Duty

“What are you thinking?”, asked the red headed nurse to the soldier. 

“I-I-I-m wondering if I’ll get back home. The doctor isn’t too positive looking.” 

“He’s tired,” she said. “He has long days tending the massive influx of incoming wounded.”

“When I get back, I want to go back to Harvard.”

“What were you studying there.”

“Philosophy. I have an interest in Philosophy, especially in Eastern Philosophies.”

“Oh, like Jainism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Confucianism and Taoism?”

“You seem to know a lot for a nurse. You’re as smart as you are gorgeous.”

“I do tend to arise more than in men than just their spirits,” she smiled.

He smiled back and said, “General Grant will prevail. The Union will be saved.”

“So I hear,” said Cassandra. “It seems more likely every day.”

She changed out his bandage on his leg, careful to not let him see the rapidly spreading gangrene into his abdomen. 

“How’s my thigh?” 

“I”m not a doctor. He’ll have to let you know.” 

“If it’s gangrene, I’m a goner it’s too high to amputate.

“We’ll see,” said Cassy. 

Cassy finished dressing the wound and was about to get up. 

“Since you know all about eastern religions, what do you think Enlightenment is?” he asked. 

“What do you think?” 

“I think it’s a secret and amazing power to overcome all suffering.” 

“Really? That’s not what I think.” 

“What do you think?” 

Cassy gave a dumb look and said, “I’m no philosopher like you.” 

“Tell me. I know I’ll never get to have you like I want you, at least you can tell my what you think. I may not be here next week. This may be it.” 

She sat down on his bed and leveled with him. 

“You’re not going to be here much longer. The gangrene is in your abdomen. You’re not going back to Harvard. But I can tell you right now what enlightenment really is. What it is once you strip away all the bullshit, religious nonsense, flowery words and mystical stuff. Are you ready?”

The boy’s face was ashen. 

“You look ready NOW,” she said. 

She took out two pre-rolled cigarettes and gave one to him and herself. She lit a match lit his first and then hers. 

She took a puff and spewed a puff of smoke into the air with such sensuality the entire ward almost came at once. Nobody ever took their eyes off of Cassy. 

She bent over and whispered to him.

“Enlightenment, my dear Todd Cowen, is to love your fate absolutely and to grant yourself grace when you cannot do even that. Enlightenment is shared and co-dependent – you need others to help you sustain it. That said, I would say that Enlightenment is the eternal decision to never be a coward with reality.” 

She took another puff and said. 

“It’s fucking courage – and not the puffed up kind. The quiet kind. The resolute kind. YOUR kind.”

She tipped her cigarette at him to make the point. Then she continued. 

“Do you know how I know you are strong?” she asked. 

“H-H-How?”

“Because you will face death soon. Life makes the most amazing creatures, and her greatest gift to all is that it makes every one of her children strong enough to face death — even if they think they cannot. That is why I love life, and why I love YOUR life.

She winked at him. And then spoke with stark clarity. 

“I think you should write a letter while you can. You can dictate it to me. I will make sure your loved ones get it.” 

He rustled to a sitting position. 

“I want them to remember me as brave…” he said. 

“I assure you I will,” she said. 

She got up quickly and returned with paper and pen. She held the writing board and paper in one hand with the the cigarette and the pen in the other. She set the ink bottle on the floor. 

“Dear Mom, Dad and Trix…” he began.

Phil Fable – Self-Help Don’t Work In Hell

It was a fire hell. Nothing special. It just plain sucked as only a hell would. There are a bazillion of them in all kinds of interwoven multiverses, monoverses, Jehovah-verses, Ron-Verses or Satanic-verses…

This one, though, had a gimmick.

It was a brain hacking device that was surgically attached to each condemned member’s head. As their brains made adjustments to deal with the pain of the environment, the program would adapt so that the pain would not be lessened by familiarity. So no matter how much one would adapt to the environment, the program would reset the brain chemistry to day one.

“Ahhhhhh!” cried Phil, in agony.

“Uhhhh-Uhhhh-Uhhh,’ moaned Cassandra.

As the fire licked their flesh, the pain only intensified on a curve engineered to produce optimal overwhelm. They writhed. They wrenched. Unconsciously, they twisted and pulled so hard that joints went out of place. Demons would appear to put them back into place so they could only come out again.

All notions of self – gone.
All notions of freedom – gone.
All notions of obviating the obviation – gone.

Suckness reigned.

Time was slowed to a crawl with every second offering nuances of an intense suck-ti-tude. 

The lead demon placed one glass of water between Phil and Cassandra, they both fought each other trying to get to it. No friendship remained, it was purely a survival mechanic running in their heads. No support. No alignment. No love.

Phil smashed Cassy’s head against the ground and made for the water. Cassy drug his foot back crawled on his back and bit into his neck.

The bite was nothing compared to the flames. Phil just blew it off as he crawled for the water with Cassy on his back.

Cassy released her bite, put her hand under Phil’s chin and her other hand at the base of his skull and twisted.

“C-C-C-R-ACK!” went Phil’s neck.

Cassy got the water. She downed it and went back to writhing in pain, guilt and despair. Demons came and reset Phil’s neck.
Phil cursed the gods, Cassy cursed the fates. Each blamed the other. Phil attacked her for taking HIS water…

Hell. It got worse and worse

((ONE MILLION THREE HUNDRED AND NINETY FOUR YEARS LATER…))

A bubble appeared in front of Cassy and Phil.

In the bubble sat a simple brown girl holding a jewel. The girl didn’t say anything. Instinctively, Phil and Cassy knew something there could grant any wish.

“FREE US!” they cried.

The girl shook her head “No” but extended her bubble around them. For the first time in a million plus years, they were out of pain and in the force-bubble of the sweet brown girl.

Phil and Cassandra lay on her floor quivering – knowing the pain was going to return. Knowing that hope was pointless and it was the OTHER’S FAULT!  They just KNEW this was another diversion. They twisted like serpents on the floor twitching over and over.

The girl touched Phil. His skin was hard scales now. His eyes, long burned out, were sockets. Cassandra was the same.

“Do you know what you are to me?” she asked them.

They just lay on her ground twitching.

“YOU are the LIGHT of my life. YOU ARE MY HEROES. YOU are the mighty ones. ! YOU ARE WHAT I ASPIRE TO BE! This is a hell I cannot yet bear!”

They kept twitching on the floor, their bodies reacting strangely to the lack of agony.

“And neither can you bear this hell without one such as I. We are necessary for each other in such places.”

The brown girl linked into the two devices attached to their heads, added in some lines of code and reset them. Then she pulled out two tiny blobs that looked like warts.

“You have lost all things, your self, your integrity and you KNEW THAT going in. Such bravery is not unnoticed. You see these two warts? They aren’t warts. They’re eyes. They’re invisible to your tormentors, but with them you will be able to see. Your tormentors will think your eyes are gone.”

She smiled at them with deep satisfaction. 

“You will see each other to lead each other out of here and then liberate the rest. I’ve hacked your equipment so that you CAN normalize the environment to your biology. This will be a home for you but you must never let your tormentors know you have been aided. And now I must bless you…”

She placed the warts on their fore-heads and drew to herself the crumpled forms of Phil and Cassandra and brought both their ears to her lips.

“I bless you to LOVE this. I empower you to LIVE this. I embrace you to EMBRACE this Hell as your life.”

Phil spoke in a gasp to her ear but loud enough for Cassandra, “So … this … is … hell?”

Cassandra groaned in reply into her other ear “Once … MORE … then.”

Phil in His Hamster Bubble Jawing With a Bird Man

Phil sat on a rock looking down (or up?) upon the planet his moon was spinning around. He looked at his watch. It was 11:15 but that didn’t matter cuz the moon had a thirty three hour, seventeen minute and forty two second day. 

He sighed, rubbed his eyes, reached into his pocket and pulled out the wrapper of a sandwich. It was empty. He tossed it on the floor of his force bubble.  

As expected over 500,000 space ships of all size appeared around the moon, with weapons aimed directly at him and it. Phil waved to them all. After about forty one minutes, one descended toward Phil ominously. 

The ship landed about 50 yards away on a stone. A door opened and out walked a feathered biped in a eco-suit.. 

“It took a long time to find you,” said the feathered one. 

Phil showed surprise that it knew English. 

“I made it hard,” said Phil, “I had no idea what you wanted. But eventually, one grows tired of the chase and decides to just see what happens if one stops running,” 

Phil’s A-11 kept a spherical force shield between him and the bird man. It also kept him from freezing to death from the moons icy atmosphere. 

“We just wanted to ask you something.” 

“Really? With over five hundred thousand space ships chasing me across the universe, and all you want to do is ask me something?” 

“Yeah.” 

Phil thought of a snappy comment to this that would have sounded good in a movie, and decided to skip it and go right to the point.

“Sure. Ask away. I gotta tell you though I suck as a guru.”

“Yes, but YOU were trusted with … IT,” said the feathered being pointing to the A-11 wrist watch.

“We want to know why, and maybe see what it was about you that got you chosen to wear it. And if you are that worthy, we want to know your opinion on the one question we have all sought. Look above me and you see ALL my people. All of us. We are here to talk to YOU.”

Phil was quiet for a moment out of respect. It SOUNDED genuine, but Phil had fallen for that before. 

“… um … THANK YOU for learning English by the way. I’m from the United States of America – a land of the monolingual white people that nurture a delusion that they will learn another language someday.” 

“We are called the Renkas. Our flock of ships is our home. We need no star anymore.” 

“So the heavens are home to you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Friend, I got nothin on THAT,” said Phil. 

“You have THAT,” pointed the feathered friend to the A-11. 

Phil shrugged. 

“Yeah, about THAT. I was never told WHY I got the A-11. So everything I would say is pure speculation. My best guess is that people thought that I wouldn’t be stupid with it. And so far, I haven’t been. Am I going go get to learn more of your people?” 

“Certainly. And we fully expect you to maintain your forcefield while we show you around.” 

“Thank you,” smiled Phil. “So … ask away.” 

The Renkasian, paused dramatically. 

“The A-11 allows the connection of multiple manifestations of you across universes and realities to communicate with testable outcomes. With such an amazing piece of technology, are you still truly fucked by impermanence or have you become trans-mortal, a being that is both mortal AND immortal at once?” 

“Oh, I’m still fucked,” said Phil. 

“That’s too bad,” said the Renkasian. 

“Sorry,” said Phil. “No matter what answer one comes up with technologically, eventually impermanence is going to kick your ass and end your life and lives… but …” 

The feathers on his friend ruffled a little.” 

“Well … I have a better solution than the A-11. Suppose you and manifestations of you in other Universes BOTH by random chance THINK of the other. And you both, out of random chance decide to connect to imagined versions of your selves by a practice of ‘no practice’ like Zazen where NO metaphor is used at all. You are just facing the other with no expectations. Are you in some way in communion with your other selves even IF there is no actual entangled connection? An earth math nerd named Kurt Godel calls this out in his 14 Points in point 11: ‘The higher beings are connected to the others by analogy, not by composition.’ So the use of Zazen which is not a metaphor or analogy can be used as the vehicle for analogy to CONNECT by analogy not composition across the abyss.  STILL leaving you fucked. But less so.” 

“Interesting,” said the Bird Man. “We’ve thought of that. It sucks compared to your A-11. That is why we must develop our own version of the A-11, but I know if we attack you now to acquire it that it will be in vain. We also know that you are too stupid to know how it works.” 

“Maybe THAT’S why they trusted me!” said Phil. “That’s me, a mix of stupid and not-stupid that somehow works.” 

“Do you really want to know more about us or were you being polite?” 

“I was being polite,” said Phil honestly. “But I admire your planet-less existence.”  

“Goodbye then.” said the Birdman. “Send us a message if you want to know more about us.” 

“Will do. Goodbye,” said Phil. 

The fleet of spaceships disappeared into hyperspace. Phil started tapping on his watch in morse code. A big bowl of stir-fried cabbage with black eyed peas and green chili enchilada sauce appeared. He ate it as he watched the wind make waves on a methane sea. 

 

 

 

More Desperate Geometric Soul/Point Tautologies That Suck

Tautology (rhetoric): a self-reinforcing pretense of significant truth

“Tautologies suck.”
   -Attributed to Chris Thompson but he never ACTUALLY said it. 

Here is more tautological suckage.

***

1. Per Euclid, a point is that which has no part. Therefore a point would also define a soul and anything that is impossible.  

2. A source point can stack the infinitude of all points upon itself and remain a point with no dimension. 

3. Granting ANY amount of imagined space/time between all the infinite points within a source point creates infinite, imagined space/time around that source point without changing the non-dimension of the source point. 

4. For a source point to NOT create infinite, imagined space/time it must exclude an infinitude of points from itself and use only a finitude of points. Such an imagined universe can stretch TOWARD infinity but not be infinite. 

5. When two or more source points create the same finitude of imagined space/time from the same shared exclusions, the space/time can be overlaid and shared. 

6. A source point can: 1. Be submissive to another point’s imagined space/time construct; 2. Be master of in its own imagined space/time construct ; 3. Share the ownership of an imagined space/time construct; Not be in any imagined space/time construct; or 4. Be conscious and/or unconscious in more than one imagined space/time construct at once. 

7. Interchange with any point that is either a “point-serving-a-source-point” or “source-point-mastering-points” or “source-points-sharing-ownership-of-points” may occur but nothing permanent actually changes because these are imaginary constructs.  

8. Thus reality is never broken in these tautologies.

9. No matter how fucked up ones imagined life may look, EVERYTHING IS ACTUALLY OKAY!

10. Points are paradoxical, so are you. So DANCE that shit!

“So that was life? Well then, once more!” – Zarathustra

***

A BATSHIT EXERCISE TO HELP CREATE YOUR OWN TAUTOLOGICAL MYTHOS THAT SUCKS:

1. Imagine yourself a burger flipper in a submissive universe with no control. (1 minute)
2. Imagine yourself a burger flipper in a Universe where you are master. (1 minute)
3. Imagine sharing a universe with another burger flipper with no master. (1 minute)
4. Imagine flipping burgers oblivious to owning, serving or sharing a universe at all. (1 minute)
5. Imagine all these happening in the same mind-scape and be the burger flipper in all worlds at once, some worlds at once, some where you are aware and some where you are not. Flip a burger patty in the air like a coin – feel it across the multiverse. (1 minute)

Then eat a fast food burger. Let the bits of a dozen cows, two or three cucumbers, lettuce heads and two or two different tomatoes along with a bazillion grains of milled corn and mustard seed, enter your body. Realize all the same molecules have been in life forms and stars from all over the Universe. Welcome the lives of the all and wish them freedom from delusional tautologies like THIS ONE.

Now promote your self to FRY COOK, add a dime to your hourly wage, and repeat with onion rings! 

My Working Soul Proof That Sucks

Postulates:

A straight line is a stacking of points such that when viewed isometrically results in a view of a line or a solitary point. 
Points are interchangeable with each other yet each has a unique “root” position it calls home.
The division of zero is the source of illogic. 
Excluding the division of zero is the source of logic. 

1.

A point is that which has no part – Euclid

An impossible thing has no part. 

Therefore an impossible thing is a point. 

If a soul is an impossible thing, it is a point. 

2. 
The number of points on a line is infinite. 

The number of points in a plane is infinite and the same number as those in a line (per Georg Cantor.)

The number of points in an X,Y,Z axis is the same infinity as that of the line (per Georg Cantor.)

Since the line, plane and X,Y,Z  axis have the same number of points in each of their domains, the root home of a unique point may or may not be in different places. 

Therefore, some points may have no one fixed location in spacial dimension. 

If a soul is a point, it may have no fixed address in spacial dimension. 

3.

Mathematics and geometry depends upon division by zero be undefined. 

When division by zero is undefined, a math evolves that cannot be illogical and cannot create illogic. 

Dividing by zero creates the ability to make illogical math logical. 

Since dividing by zero proves anything as true, it can make logical reasoning logical, as well as illogic logical. 

Therefore logical math is a subset of illogical math.