Friday, December 14, 2007
city thinking
The city seemed to actually vibrate with activity. People making their way up and down the street both walking and driving. The city was a flurry of movement when viewed from above.
This was the current result of the rise of the human species. Huge metropolitan areas developed so that humans had things to do. Not that the cities were the only human achievement, but from an elevated perspective a city can seem like an endless swath of unnatural objects. A busy metropolis studied from on high can also be seen as a human paradox of chaos and order, odd bustling here and scheduled actions there.
The thriving downtown was populated with lights and unidentified pieces of sound...made by humans to be received by their fellow humans. A car crash on one street can be heard faintly several blocks away and the lights from the flashing neon "bmkdk" catches the corner of the eye. It's the results of people creating this city, ongoing over many years, a whopping fun house of a vastly expanded anthill.
To the overhead observer the city is too complicated to absorb all the sensory input in a short time. If one was unfamiliar with the human race and began to observe the human city activity it probably would be not unlike a child watching ants dance in their anthill, but the ants have lots of stuff. I could imagine my reaction if somehow my mind was erased of my knowledge of people and I was placed on the 10th floor balcony in a major city and told to open my eyes..."What the HELL is THIS!"...I might exclaim.
The cars would be baffling. Just watch a cab. One person gets into the thing with wheels, they move then stop behind a bunch of other things with wheels. They wait, then they move as a pack forward each with maybe two people inside the thing with wheels that could fit five. Then the pack slows and stops to again wait. This goes on and on. Why is this done?
Along the street with the thing with wheels are other things with wheels but these things have two wheels and no covering. One person moves the thing about as fast as the larger things with wheels because of all of that stopping being done by those other moving things. They both end up waiting at the cross of moving things. Why are people needing to use these things with wheels and why in such an odd way? Where are they going?
Considering that I am imagining that I don't have people knowledge, maybe I have never observed ants either. If I studied both ants and people for the first time, I might have to conclude that humans are ants with a lot of stuff.
And then there's time. Perched in the same spot in that city, if the time dial could be spun back wards and forwards, the scene would change both imperceptively ( going back in time a half second) and greatly (spin back 150 years). Or one could begin to observe from that spot and continue for a long time.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Phones and Ray go down
Back in the office, Ray began to have phone problems. He had used the office phone to call Linda's mother but had only gotten voice mail. He left a message that conveyed concern for Linda without mentioning that she was now speaking in forked tongues and was taped to a chair. He then tried phoning the health department on the office phone, but when he put the receiver to his ear he got a strange buzz. He hung up, tried again and heard the buzz again, repeating this action several times.
He then did what most of us would unconsciously do, he stared at the phone as if he wanted it to explain why it was buzzing. It was all he could really think to do as he couldn't call someone to explain to them that he had a phone buzz...unless...he "used his cell phone" thought Ray. This was a leap of logic that caused Ray to break a longstanding habit of using the office phone in the office. He dug out his phone and dialed the health department with similar results as the call couldn't be completed. He thought, "Maybe it's just the health department number that is getting the buzz." He tried other numbers, his own mom, a couple of friends, and eventually gave up, the phones were down he decided.
He pushed his chair back from the desk and set himself to thinking. Summing up the situation he realized things were out of control. The restaurant was closed, people going crazy, and he couldn't do what he was good at, working the phones for solutions. He purposely ignored the emerging ache in his gut. "It isn't severe and it could just be tension," he had quickly thought earlier while playing with the phones. He decided to leave the office and let the others know about the phones, although he guessed they might already know about cell phones.
Eugene saw Ray coming, "Our phones aren't working except for Gena's. I'm not sure who her service provider is, but it's not mine." Ray jumped right in, "Same in the office and my phone. We need to borrow her phone and call the health department." They both turned to see Gena begin a conversation with someone and they then both half-listened in on the call. Gena was speaking to a voice mail, leaving a message. As she punched the end button Eugene spoke up, "Can we borrow your phone for a minute, yours is apparently the only one working."
Ray grasped the phone as Gena extended it to him and quickly made the call, the number now memorized by Ray. He got through, Eugene could tell by Ray's expression of half-hope and half-surprise. Ray started right in on explaining the situation and then listened. Ray didn't get much of a speaking role, just plenty of "but"s and "uh-huh"s. He punched the end button and turned to the group.
"They aren't coming. They are swamped. This plague is all over the place. Not just in the city, but all over the country, the world. This is absolutely serious. They don't know what is causing it, but the symptoms are the same. Cramps, crazy and..." Ray tailed off but he had to say it, "...and death."
Ray began to add opinion to his information. "The phones are down because people can't function normally. Just like we had to shut down, businesses all over are literally 'going out of business.' People are dieing now."
The place was quiet and everyone was in their own personal form of shock, different for each as Eugene was staring holes into the floor, and Sonia the waitress was visually shaking. Even Linda was quiet thought Ray and then he went over to her. She wasn't even moving. Ray didn't want to listen to his inner pop of an idea, but he did. He thought she would be dead and took her pulse at her wrist to prove that idea. He was right, no pulse. "I think Linda has passed" he passively announced to the group.
Eugene, as did most of the others, approached Linda slumped beside Ray. He tried her caratoid artery for a pulse, expecting none. Silently he changed his actions to perform his new task, he began to take off the duct tape. Ray followed the same actions, "What should we do with her?" Eugene said, "We'll lay her in the booth in section three for now, cover her with a table clothe."
"Was this the end of the process?" thought Eugene as he and Ray moved Linda, "We unwrap the restrained after they die?" He thought longer, "How many in this room will end up being duct taped to a chair to die? Would a hospital be able to administer a drug to alleviate the cramps, reduce the insanity and ease the person into death?" Eugene finished his thoughts with a final question, "And can they discover a cause and cure very soon?"
He then wondered aloud, "Should we all go to the hospital?" Then within his mind, "Like going to a hospital that's going nuts would do any good." He then wondered, as most everyone in the world might also be wondering, "When am I going to get the cramps? Will I get it?"
Ray knew the answers to Eugene's inner questions. Ray knew he was getting sick. His stomach was beginning to have short searing pain waves. It made him want to bend over, but he kept his upright stance to mask his knowledge of his condition. He imagined he was copying what Linda did, hiding his symptoms.
As the partners finished covering Linda, they were silent in thought. Gena had followed them over and began a prayer. It was a home-made prayer, but was moving in the expression of respect and love they all had for their co-worker. Linda had been more than a worker, she was a friend and nearly a family member, who was part of this group that had been together for more than a decade. Under normal conditions Linda would not to be forgotten easily for those who knew her, but this plague might not leave anyone to remember Linda.
Within this air of sadness, Ray had decided to admit his stomach pain to the group. He was waiting for a breaking of the mood. Everyone was gathering around a center table, some sitting down and others uneasily shifting on their feet.
He then did what most of us would unconsciously do, he stared at the phone as if he wanted it to explain why it was buzzing. It was all he could really think to do as he couldn't call someone to explain to them that he had a phone buzz...unless...he "used his cell phone" thought Ray. This was a leap of logic that caused Ray to break a longstanding habit of using the office phone in the office. He dug out his phone and dialed the health department with similar results as the call couldn't be completed. He thought, "Maybe it's just the health department number that is getting the buzz." He tried other numbers, his own mom, a couple of friends, and eventually gave up, the phones were down he decided.
He pushed his chair back from the desk and set himself to thinking. Summing up the situation he realized things were out of control. The restaurant was closed, people going crazy, and he couldn't do what he was good at, working the phones for solutions. He purposely ignored the emerging ache in his gut. "It isn't severe and it could just be tension," he had quickly thought earlier while playing with the phones. He decided to leave the office and let the others know about the phones, although he guessed they might already know about cell phones.
Eugene saw Ray coming, "Our phones aren't working except for Gena's. I'm not sure who her service provider is, but it's not mine." Ray jumped right in, "Same in the office and my phone. We need to borrow her phone and call the health department." They both turned to see Gena begin a conversation with someone and they then both half-listened in on the call. Gena was speaking to a voice mail, leaving a message. As she punched the end button Eugene spoke up, "Can we borrow your phone for a minute, yours is apparently the only one working."
Ray grasped the phone as Gena extended it to him and quickly made the call, the number now memorized by Ray. He got through, Eugene could tell by Ray's expression of half-hope and half-surprise. Ray started right in on explaining the situation and then listened. Ray didn't get much of a speaking role, just plenty of "but"s and "uh-huh"s. He punched the end button and turned to the group.
"They aren't coming. They are swamped. This plague is all over the place. Not just in the city, but all over the country, the world. This is absolutely serious. They don't know what is causing it, but the symptoms are the same. Cramps, crazy and..." Ray tailed off but he had to say it, "...and death."
Ray began to add opinion to his information. "The phones are down because people can't function normally. Just like we had to shut down, businesses all over are literally 'going out of business.' People are dieing now."
The place was quiet and everyone was in their own personal form of shock, different for each as Eugene was staring holes into the floor, and Sonia the waitress was visually shaking. Even Linda was quiet thought Ray and then he went over to her. She wasn't even moving. Ray didn't want to listen to his inner pop of an idea, but he did. He thought she would be dead and took her pulse at her wrist to prove that idea. He was right, no pulse. "I think Linda has passed" he passively announced to the group.
Eugene, as did most of the others, approached Linda slumped beside Ray. He tried her caratoid artery for a pulse, expecting none. Silently he changed his actions to perform his new task, he began to take off the duct tape. Ray followed the same actions, "What should we do with her?" Eugene said, "We'll lay her in the booth in section three for now, cover her with a table clothe."
"Was this the end of the process?" thought Eugene as he and Ray moved Linda, "We unwrap the restrained after they die?" He thought longer, "How many in this room will end up being duct taped to a chair to die? Would a hospital be able to administer a drug to alleviate the cramps, reduce the insanity and ease the person into death?" Eugene finished his thoughts with a final question, "And can they discover a cause and cure very soon?"
He then wondered aloud, "Should we all go to the hospital?" Then within his mind, "Like going to a hospital that's going nuts would do any good." He then wondered, as most everyone in the world might also be wondering, "When am I going to get the cramps? Will I get it?"
Ray knew the answers to Eugene's inner questions. Ray knew he was getting sick. His stomach was beginning to have short searing pain waves. It made him want to bend over, but he kept his upright stance to mask his knowledge of his condition. He imagined he was copying what Linda did, hiding his symptoms.
As the partners finished covering Linda, they were silent in thought. Gena had followed them over and began a prayer. It was a home-made prayer, but was moving in the expression of respect and love they all had for their co-worker. Linda had been more than a worker, she was a friend and nearly a family member, who was part of this group that had been together for more than a decade. Under normal conditions Linda would not to be forgotten easily for those who knew her, but this plague might not leave anyone to remember Linda.
Within this air of sadness, Ray had decided to admit his stomach pain to the group. He was waiting for a breaking of the mood. Everyone was gathering around a center table, some sitting down and others uneasily shifting on their feet.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
bad breakfast
After the meeting Eugene went back and relieved Linda so she could meet with Ray. He worked on the slow side, his day was almost done. It was just getting busy in the cafe, but once Linda was back with Gena helping, he knew he could call it a day. He thought about getting home quickly rather than hang around. He guessed he might be coming in early tonight if Ed didn't show up, so he wanted to get some sleep earlier.
Soon Linda was back. The three of them traded jokes about the meeting as Eugene stepped out of the way. He finally chatted his way out of the kitchen and headed to the john to freshen up. Eugene called it "wiping the sticky off" when he rinsed up in the sink. The aromas of the bread ovens would cling to Eugene, it really takes a good shower to de-sticky. Yet, it's not an awful smell, it's rumored to attract women---that warm kitchen smell. Eugene thought about that and smiled, women did seem to like him but maybe the wrong type of women, the motherly type.
He shook his head and left the bathroom directing himself to the front counter. He went behind and started to assemble some sandwiches for later. As he was finishing off the first piece of art as Eugene thought of them, a loud strange groan came from the back dining area. Eugene looked up and saw several people beginning to offer help to a man he didn't know seated in one of the half-booths. Viewing the scene as if in slow-mo, he heard more of those moans. He could see a woman who had approached the man, get out her cell phone and begin punching numbers, 911 he wondered. Another man was lowering Mr. Groan to the floor to lay him down.
Finally Eugene let go of his sandwich plate and went into action. He quickly walked to the office, just 10 steps, and opened the door and told Ray about the incident, "we have a medical" he said.
Then he quickly made his way back to the man, Ray followed close behind as the two of them slalomed between tables.
They found out fast that the gentleman was in terrible stomach pain and that the lady WAS on the line with 911. It also turned out that the man who lowered him to the ground was in fact a doctor, and an ER one at that. The lady had phoned 911 because the ER doctor had told her to.
Eugene took a moment to notice the ability of customers to come to aid. This wasn't the first medical to occur in the cafe and wouldn't be the last. Both Ray and You had CPR and first aid classes, and both had used that knowledge several times in their place. Still, he was glad that there had been a doctor in the house, relieved even as Eugene could be more of an aide.
Mr. Groan was really hurting, at least from the sounds of his groans. The doctor began to explain. "I've ruled out appendix, it's some type of gastro problem, probably from what he digested. What's on his plate?"
The two partners went to the table and stared at the remains calculating all the different ingredients in what they saw. Sonia the waitress brought them the bill, but the two of them already knew the order from what they saw of the breakfast, the culprit? Neither of them were dancing about this possibility, that something from their cafe afflicted someone. They both knew that if it was serious that the health department would arrive, Ray began to think about calling them immediately. Eugene on the other hand was deeply hoping that his work wasn't the cause. He had baked the bread that was the man's toast and he had also made the man's pancakes while Linda was in the meeting. He would feel awful for the man if something bad happened and guilty for creating the reason.
Ray told the doctor, "Regular breakfast, eggs, pancakes, toast, OJ. It could be several things, the eggs, the milk, the cheese he had on his eggs...but eggs usually is the worry."
"Could be the eggs, salmonella." The doctor kept checking his patient on the floor. The man was groaning and rather stiff through his body, but sometimes he would curl into a ball holding his midsection. "But we won't know until we get him to the hospital. The ambulance should be here any time. Can you find something that we could use to transport him to the door to be ready when it gets here? Got a wheel chair around?"
Ray looked around and saw another customer had one, he decided to ask. "Sir, could we borrow your chair for that man? Also, we are concerned about the food we served him, we would like to take your dishes." Ray stepped back into the aisle and louder said, "We have a food concern. Please stop eating."
The rest of the crew went into action going to every table and asking the customers to hold up and then taking their plates back to the kitchen. On a counter they lined them up in order to remember whose table they came from. Ray had been talking to the health department by now and they had wished that the plates had been left on the tables, but storing them on the counter was the next-best thing.
They closed the store. They gave everyone their meal free AND gave them a complementary meal ticket. Most of the regulars would be back without the indulgences, the partners worried about retaining the people who were just figuring out the place. They'd been in business long enough to weather a food poisoning, but bad publicity about a restaurant can stick to the reputation for too long.
Everyone was calm and out of the cafe in about five minutes. The workers now gathered to powwow...part troubleshooting, part gossip, part worry. Just inside the front door on a chair was Mr. Groan or rather as they now knew, Mr. Henderson, Robert from Royal Oak. It had been his first time at the cafe and here he was slumped in a chair, moaning and waiting for the very late ambulance.
The doctor was with Henderson but was on his cell to the local hospital ER. He told Eugene standing next to him, "It seems that all the ambulances are on runs. They've put our priority low, I was told maybe half an hour. We'll have to drive him."
Now to his cell, "Yes, we're going to bring him in. Wait. What?"
He listened and said, "Wow. Really? Hmmm, and you don't know what is causing it?"
He listened again, longer. "OK. I'll be coming in about 15 minutes, with Mr. Henderson. I'd better let you go. Goodbye."
The doctor told Eugene, "Apparently, we are probably beginning a pandemic. There is some sort of outbreak of stomach ailment, the emergency room is full. So, I'm driving Mr. Henderson to the hospital and staying there to help in the emergency. Can you give me a hand with him after I bring my car around? The borrowed wheelchair had been given back. Eugene said "Sure, I'll wait with him until you drive back."
The doctor began to open the door then hesitated, "I loved my meal, I'll be back! At least I know it wasn't your cooking," and gave Eugene a smile. They shook hands and the doctor was gone for his car. Then it finally dawned on him, he didn't know the doc's name.
A few minutes later the doctor drove up, parkinng directly in front of the door. He got out on the far drivers side, came around the car opened the front passenger door, and turned for the front door while getting out his wallet. He removed something, opened the door and handed it to Eugene, "Here's my card. My name is Donald Rose. Thank you for all the help and seriously I'll be back for that free meal."
Eugene helped get Henderson into the car as he told the doctor his own name and a little small talk about the cafe. They closed the passenger door and Dr. Rose went around to his side and got in. He gave a wave to Eugene after he started the car and fastening his seat belt and then took a hard slap to his head. Mr. Henderson had begun to hit Dr. Rose in the face, yelling "NO, NOOOO."
He wasn't stopping either. Slam, slam, slam, Mr. Henderson was striking hard and fast. Dr. Rose couldn't fend off the swings, it was an avalanche of blows. Dr. Rose had blood on his face almost in no time and was yelling "STOP! Cut it OUT! HELP!"
Eugene was shocked at what he now saw going on inside the car. He grabbed the passenger door and flung it open. He tried to yank Mr. Henderson out of the car but the man was swinging at him now too. He caught several shots as he tumbled Mr. Henderson out and down to the ground. He jumped on top of him and yelled for the doc, "Are you OK?! Can you give me a hand holding him down!!!"
Then Mr. Henderson ceased squirming and went somewhat limp. He settled down quickly and began a garbled speech. "I know where yo were drieffen me. Yaaah. I knoww. Tawken me to jail. I know. Everyboshish is awways tryin' to take me to jaaail. I know."
"No, no. We were going to the hospital for your stomach. I'm a doctor." Dr. Rose had come around the car and with his bloodied face had tried to explain. He was a bit perplexed at Mr. Henderson's statement. "How are feeling?"
The pinned man looked at his face, "Whaaat happen you?"
The doctor considered that Mr. Henderson didn't remember the brutal attack. "Oh, Nothing. How are you feeling?"
"Ummmm...I feel fiiine! Yeah, feel fine." Henderson sort of frowned, "Hey youuuu, can ya get off me?"
Eugene looked at the doctor, but did loosen his pressure on the man. The doctor looked at Eugene but asked Henderson "What about your stomach? How does it feel?"
Henderson said, "It feels good except I've got this load sitting on it. Can you get off, please?"
"Well, what will you do when he lets you up?"
"I'll go into this cafe and have something to eat, I'm hungry."
Dr. Rose looked at Eugene again, this time he shrugged his shoulders meaning that Henderson could get up. Eugene cautiously got off the man and stood in front of the cafe's front door. Everyone was breathing hard.
Henderson got to his feet brushing himself off and said "I'd love a burger right now."
"Sorry, but we had to close the store. Come back tomorrow if you'd like, but if you want one right now there's Sports Trades down the street."
"Yes! That's a good idea! I'll go get a burger at Sports Trades. Good thinking!"
Then Henderson jumped forward and pushed down Eugene and then the doctor to the ground in one quick surprise swoop and turned and ran off down the street. As he jogged away he was yelling back at the two of them on the ground, "I fooled you! I'm not going to jail. You can't take me, you can't!"
Eugene and Doctor Rose gathered themselves and both wondered whether to chase after the man. "He went crazy!" Eugene said.
The doctor agreed, "That might be a second symptom of his illness. First the stomach pains, then insanity. I wonder if it's temporary insanity or infinite madness? This disease may have another phase as well. Since it hasn't been identified we can't know if we have a cure. Does death follow madness?"
He changed the subject a bit, "I'm still going to the hospital. Henderson is too much to handle for me to go wrestling him into my car. Besides there are going to be many people going insane that I hope to help in the ER. Maybe there is a way to stop the insanity symptom."
"Yeah, Doc. I'm not going after him either. I'm still feeling his punches and I don't want new ones. I hope he finds a good burger and settles down."
Dr. Rose and Eugene said their final thoughts and goodbyes. The doctor got in his car and drove off to Central Medical Center. Eugene went into the cafe, locked the door and shuffled over to where everyone was gathered. He knew they wanted the whole story and went about describing the incident and explaining the epidemic that Dr. Rose thought was happening. After he was done, he went into the kitchen to his locker and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. He had to have one even though he was going good on quitting.
Everyone else began discussing the disease. There just wasn't enough information. The big question was "How do you get it?" Several people used there cells, Gena called her mother who was sitting her little Joey and Gena called her husband.
"It could be terrorism" offered Ray.
Linda had been quiet then burst into the conversation, "Stop accusing me of poisoning everyone! I didn't do anything and you can't prove it. All along I knew I couldn't trust any of you. All these years I've feared what you two are capably of. Now I know. Falsely blaming me for the sickness!"
Ray was shocked the suddenness of the outburst. Immediately thinking "she's crazy," he also wondered whether she had been hiding inner emotions about himself and Eugene.
Speak of the devil returned from the kitchen smoking a cigarette, walking into the end of Linda's tirade. He stopped and eyed the situation. He wanted to get a hold of Linda and maybe tie her down to keep her from getting physical. The group could subdue her, Himself and Ray would need to lead the charge. He signaled Ray by nodding his head and they both began to poise for a surprise charge at Linda.
Eugene wondered what happened to the stomach pains. "Linda, how are you feeling? Is your stomach OK?"
"Look pain is nothing compared to feeling betrayed by you guys. I can take the pain, but I can't take your judge and jury Kangaroo Court accusations."
They both now understood that shw had been covering the stomach pain, Ray tried to soothe her, "No one is accusing you. I told you I think it might be terrorists."
SO! Now I'm a terrorist!"
Linda went to put her coffee down on the table and the partners leaped at the chance, each grabbing one of Linda's arms and then pulling her to the floor. The yelled for everyone else to help and to go get the duct tape. They struggled with Linda who was throwing around more weight than her small body even had. Finally the busboy pinned her thrashing legs. Using the duct tape they immobilized Linda to a chair.
Ray told her, "This is for your own safety. We don't want you getting hurt if you get too angry or violent."
Linda's body slumped a bit, she was giving in. "I had the cramps, now I'm going insane. You all are conspiring against me. I think YOU infected me with the disease." She was not ranting anymore, but rattling off things no one ever expected to hear from Linda.
Eugene wondered about using a gag, to keep her from saying things she'd regret if she recovers.
The cafe was settling down, but suspicion was growing. Who might get the cramps was a nagging cloud hanging above their heads.
"What should we do with Linda? We can't leave her like this for too long. Should we call someone, her contact number, maybe?" wondered aloud Eugene.
The group was quiet, each thinking what might be next and what to do when next arrived. Some wondered if Linda was what they themselves might become soon and then paid attention to any changes to their stomach. One odd growl was enough to deeply worry Gena, and hate to say it but Ray was holding in his farts. He didn't want anyone to think he had a gas problem, it might be an audio symptom as well as being an odor indication of this plague. Ray thought back, "Did Linda or Henderson pass gas?" He thought that sentence would be hilarious any other time, but this was critical information right now, and frustratingly he couldn't remember if they did. Briefly he questioned whether he was being honest with his friends, should he announce he had the farts thereby alerting them to his possible plague infliction? He shook his head and thought, "This is silly. Am I getting a little nutty? When you get the cramps do the beginnings of insanity precede the pain?"
Ray broke his thought to get it out of his mind and said aloud, "I'm going to he office and ,make phone calls. I'm calling Linda's contact, I think it's her mother, and then I'm phoning the hospital and health department again. I suggest we all make calls to anyone we want. Call your spouses, your family, friends, whatever..."
Ray continued, "I think this is getting very serious. I don't know how big this thing is, but we don't know much about it. We are going to have to make some choices, take some action. Eugene and I will stay here and take care of Linda. Everyone else can leave or you're welcome to stay for awhile. I'm not sure about anything else. Any suggestions?"
No one moved at first. Pete the busboy punched numbers on his cell and spoke up. "I'm heading home. I need to get to my family. I'll call to let you know how my trip was." He put his cell to his ear and began to walk out, waving as he did. "See ya soon," he finally said as he unlocked the front door.
Eugene broke his own personal spell and quickly followed behind Pete. He caught the door as it was just about to close and reopened it. He raised his voice a bit as Pete was walking away, "Pete, thanks for all your hard work. Please call us as often as you can on your way home." Pete waved again and flashed a peace sign and turned to hurry home.
Eugene locked the door and went back in.
Soon Linda was back. The three of them traded jokes about the meeting as Eugene stepped out of the way. He finally chatted his way out of the kitchen and headed to the john to freshen up. Eugene called it "wiping the sticky off" when he rinsed up in the sink. The aromas of the bread ovens would cling to Eugene, it really takes a good shower to de-sticky. Yet, it's not an awful smell, it's rumored to attract women---that warm kitchen smell. Eugene thought about that and smiled, women did seem to like him but maybe the wrong type of women, the motherly type.
He shook his head and left the bathroom directing himself to the front counter. He went behind and started to assemble some sandwiches for later. As he was finishing off the first piece of art as Eugene thought of them, a loud strange groan came from the back dining area. Eugene looked up and saw several people beginning to offer help to a man he didn't know seated in one of the half-booths. Viewing the scene as if in slow-mo, he heard more of those moans. He could see a woman who had approached the man, get out her cell phone and begin punching numbers, 911 he wondered. Another man was lowering Mr. Groan to the floor to lay him down.
Finally Eugene let go of his sandwich plate and went into action. He quickly walked to the office, just 10 steps, and opened the door and told Ray about the incident, "we have a medical" he said.
Then he quickly made his way back to the man, Ray followed close behind as the two of them slalomed between tables.
They found out fast that the gentleman was in terrible stomach pain and that the lady WAS on the line with 911. It also turned out that the man who lowered him to the ground was in fact a doctor, and an ER one at that. The lady had phoned 911 because the ER doctor had told her to.
Eugene took a moment to notice the ability of customers to come to aid. This wasn't the first medical to occur in the cafe and wouldn't be the last. Both Ray and You had CPR and first aid classes, and both had used that knowledge several times in their place. Still, he was glad that there had been a doctor in the house, relieved even as Eugene could be more of an aide.
Mr. Groan was really hurting, at least from the sounds of his groans. The doctor began to explain. "I've ruled out appendix, it's some type of gastro problem, probably from what he digested. What's on his plate?"
The two partners went to the table and stared at the remains calculating all the different ingredients in what they saw. Sonia the waitress brought them the bill, but the two of them already knew the order from what they saw of the breakfast, the culprit? Neither of them were dancing about this possibility, that something from their cafe afflicted someone. They both knew that if it was serious that the health department would arrive, Ray began to think about calling them immediately. Eugene on the other hand was deeply hoping that his work wasn't the cause. He had baked the bread that was the man's toast and he had also made the man's pancakes while Linda was in the meeting. He would feel awful for the man if something bad happened and guilty for creating the reason.
Ray told the doctor, "Regular breakfast, eggs, pancakes, toast, OJ. It could be several things, the eggs, the milk, the cheese he had on his eggs...but eggs usually is the worry."
"Could be the eggs, salmonella." The doctor kept checking his patient on the floor. The man was groaning and rather stiff through his body, but sometimes he would curl into a ball holding his midsection. "But we won't know until we get him to the hospital. The ambulance should be here any time. Can you find something that we could use to transport him to the door to be ready when it gets here? Got a wheel chair around?"
Ray looked around and saw another customer had one, he decided to ask. "Sir, could we borrow your chair for that man? Also, we are concerned about the food we served him, we would like to take your dishes." Ray stepped back into the aisle and louder said, "We have a food concern. Please stop eating."
The rest of the crew went into action going to every table and asking the customers to hold up and then taking their plates back to the kitchen. On a counter they lined them up in order to remember whose table they came from. Ray had been talking to the health department by now and they had wished that the plates had been left on the tables, but storing them on the counter was the next-best thing.
They closed the store. They gave everyone their meal free AND gave them a complementary meal ticket. Most of the regulars would be back without the indulgences, the partners worried about retaining the people who were just figuring out the place. They'd been in business long enough to weather a food poisoning, but bad publicity about a restaurant can stick to the reputation for too long.
Everyone was calm and out of the cafe in about five minutes. The workers now gathered to powwow...part troubleshooting, part gossip, part worry. Just inside the front door on a chair was Mr. Groan or rather as they now knew, Mr. Henderson, Robert from Royal Oak. It had been his first time at the cafe and here he was slumped in a chair, moaning and waiting for the very late ambulance.
The doctor was with Henderson but was on his cell to the local hospital ER. He told Eugene standing next to him, "It seems that all the ambulances are on runs. They've put our priority low, I was told maybe half an hour. We'll have to drive him."
Now to his cell, "Yes, we're going to bring him in. Wait. What?"
He listened and said, "Wow. Really? Hmmm, and you don't know what is causing it?"
He listened again, longer. "OK. I'll be coming in about 15 minutes, with Mr. Henderson. I'd better let you go. Goodbye."
The doctor told Eugene, "Apparently, we are probably beginning a pandemic. There is some sort of outbreak of stomach ailment, the emergency room is full. So, I'm driving Mr. Henderson to the hospital and staying there to help in the emergency. Can you give me a hand with him after I bring my car around? The borrowed wheelchair had been given back. Eugene said "Sure, I'll wait with him until you drive back."
The doctor began to open the door then hesitated, "I loved my meal, I'll be back! At least I know it wasn't your cooking," and gave Eugene a smile. They shook hands and the doctor was gone for his car. Then it finally dawned on him, he didn't know the doc's name.
A few minutes later the doctor drove up, parkinng directly in front of the door. He got out on the far drivers side, came around the car opened the front passenger door, and turned for the front door while getting out his wallet. He removed something, opened the door and handed it to Eugene, "Here's my card. My name is Donald Rose. Thank you for all the help and seriously I'll be back for that free meal."
Eugene helped get Henderson into the car as he told the doctor his own name and a little small talk about the cafe. They closed the passenger door and Dr. Rose went around to his side and got in. He gave a wave to Eugene after he started the car and fastening his seat belt and then took a hard slap to his head. Mr. Henderson had begun to hit Dr. Rose in the face, yelling "NO, NOOOO."
He wasn't stopping either. Slam, slam, slam, Mr. Henderson was striking hard and fast. Dr. Rose couldn't fend off the swings, it was an avalanche of blows. Dr. Rose had blood on his face almost in no time and was yelling "STOP! Cut it OUT! HELP!"
Eugene was shocked at what he now saw going on inside the car. He grabbed the passenger door and flung it open. He tried to yank Mr. Henderson out of the car but the man was swinging at him now too. He caught several shots as he tumbled Mr. Henderson out and down to the ground. He jumped on top of him and yelled for the doc, "Are you OK?! Can you give me a hand holding him down!!!"
Then Mr. Henderson ceased squirming and went somewhat limp. He settled down quickly and began a garbled speech. "I know where yo were drieffen me. Yaaah. I knoww. Tawken me to jail. I know. Everyboshish is awways tryin' to take me to jaaail. I know."
"No, no. We were going to the hospital for your stomach. I'm a doctor." Dr. Rose had come around the car and with his bloodied face had tried to explain. He was a bit perplexed at Mr. Henderson's statement. "How are feeling?"
The pinned man looked at his face, "Whaaat happen you?"
The doctor considered that Mr. Henderson didn't remember the brutal attack. "Oh, Nothing. How are you feeling?"
"Ummmm...I feel fiiine! Yeah, feel fine." Henderson sort of frowned, "Hey youuuu, can ya get off me?"
Eugene looked at the doctor, but did loosen his pressure on the man. The doctor looked at Eugene but asked Henderson "What about your stomach? How does it feel?"
Henderson said, "It feels good except I've got this load sitting on it. Can you get off, please?"
"Well, what will you do when he lets you up?"
"I'll go into this cafe and have something to eat, I'm hungry."
Dr. Rose looked at Eugene again, this time he shrugged his shoulders meaning that Henderson could get up. Eugene cautiously got off the man and stood in front of the cafe's front door. Everyone was breathing hard.
Henderson got to his feet brushing himself off and said "I'd love a burger right now."
"Sorry, but we had to close the store. Come back tomorrow if you'd like, but if you want one right now there's Sports Trades down the street."
"Yes! That's a good idea! I'll go get a burger at Sports Trades. Good thinking!"
Then Henderson jumped forward and pushed down Eugene and then the doctor to the ground in one quick surprise swoop and turned and ran off down the street. As he jogged away he was yelling back at the two of them on the ground, "I fooled you! I'm not going to jail. You can't take me, you can't!"
Eugene and Doctor Rose gathered themselves and both wondered whether to chase after the man. "He went crazy!" Eugene said.
The doctor agreed, "That might be a second symptom of his illness. First the stomach pains, then insanity. I wonder if it's temporary insanity or infinite madness? This disease may have another phase as well. Since it hasn't been identified we can't know if we have a cure. Does death follow madness?"
He changed the subject a bit, "I'm still going to the hospital. Henderson is too much to handle for me to go wrestling him into my car. Besides there are going to be many people going insane that I hope to help in the ER. Maybe there is a way to stop the insanity symptom."
"Yeah, Doc. I'm not going after him either. I'm still feeling his punches and I don't want new ones. I hope he finds a good burger and settles down."
Dr. Rose and Eugene said their final thoughts and goodbyes. The doctor got in his car and drove off to Central Medical Center. Eugene went into the cafe, locked the door and shuffled over to where everyone was gathered. He knew they wanted the whole story and went about describing the incident and explaining the epidemic that Dr. Rose thought was happening. After he was done, he went into the kitchen to his locker and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. He had to have one even though he was going good on quitting.
Everyone else began discussing the disease. There just wasn't enough information. The big question was "How do you get it?" Several people used there cells, Gena called her mother who was sitting her little Joey and Gena called her husband.
"It could be terrorism" offered Ray.
Linda had been quiet then burst into the conversation, "Stop accusing me of poisoning everyone! I didn't do anything and you can't prove it. All along I knew I couldn't trust any of you. All these years I've feared what you two are capably of. Now I know. Falsely blaming me for the sickness!"
Ray was shocked the suddenness of the outburst. Immediately thinking "she's crazy," he also wondered whether she had been hiding inner emotions about himself and Eugene.
Speak of the devil returned from the kitchen smoking a cigarette, walking into the end of Linda's tirade. He stopped and eyed the situation. He wanted to get a hold of Linda and maybe tie her down to keep her from getting physical. The group could subdue her, Himself and Ray would need to lead the charge. He signaled Ray by nodding his head and they both began to poise for a surprise charge at Linda.
Eugene wondered what happened to the stomach pains. "Linda, how are you feeling? Is your stomach OK?"
"Look pain is nothing compared to feeling betrayed by you guys. I can take the pain, but I can't take your judge and jury Kangaroo Court accusations."
They both now understood that shw had been covering the stomach pain, Ray tried to soothe her, "No one is accusing you. I told you I think it might be terrorists."
SO! Now I'm a terrorist!"
Linda went to put her coffee down on the table and the partners leaped at the chance, each grabbing one of Linda's arms and then pulling her to the floor. The yelled for everyone else to help and to go get the duct tape. They struggled with Linda who was throwing around more weight than her small body even had. Finally the busboy pinned her thrashing legs. Using the duct tape they immobilized Linda to a chair.
Ray told her, "This is for your own safety. We don't want you getting hurt if you get too angry or violent."
Linda's body slumped a bit, she was giving in. "I had the cramps, now I'm going insane. You all are conspiring against me. I think YOU infected me with the disease." She was not ranting anymore, but rattling off things no one ever expected to hear from Linda.
Eugene wondered about using a gag, to keep her from saying things she'd regret if she recovers.
The cafe was settling down, but suspicion was growing. Who might get the cramps was a nagging cloud hanging above their heads.
"What should we do with Linda? We can't leave her like this for too long. Should we call someone, her contact number, maybe?" wondered aloud Eugene.
The group was quiet, each thinking what might be next and what to do when next arrived. Some wondered if Linda was what they themselves might become soon and then paid attention to any changes to their stomach. One odd growl was enough to deeply worry Gena, and hate to say it but Ray was holding in his farts. He didn't want anyone to think he had a gas problem, it might be an audio symptom as well as being an odor indication of this plague. Ray thought back, "Did Linda or Henderson pass gas?" He thought that sentence would be hilarious any other time, but this was critical information right now, and frustratingly he couldn't remember if they did. Briefly he questioned whether he was being honest with his friends, should he announce he had the farts thereby alerting them to his possible plague infliction? He shook his head and thought, "This is silly. Am I getting a little nutty? When you get the cramps do the beginnings of insanity precede the pain?"
Ray broke his thought to get it out of his mind and said aloud, "I'm going to he office and ,make phone calls. I'm calling Linda's contact, I think it's her mother, and then I'm phoning the hospital and health department again. I suggest we all make calls to anyone we want. Call your spouses, your family, friends, whatever..."
Ray continued, "I think this is getting very serious. I don't know how big this thing is, but we don't know much about it. We are going to have to make some choices, take some action. Eugene and I will stay here and take care of Linda. Everyone else can leave or you're welcome to stay for awhile. I'm not sure about anything else. Any suggestions?"
No one moved at first. Pete the busboy punched numbers on his cell and spoke up. "I'm heading home. I need to get to my family. I'll call to let you know how my trip was." He put his cell to his ear and began to walk out, waving as he did. "See ya soon," he finally said as he unlocked the front door.
Eugene broke his own personal spell and quickly followed behind Pete. He caught the door as it was just about to close and reopened it. He raised his voice a bit as Pete was walking away, "Pete, thanks for all your hard work. Please call us as often as you can on your way home." Pete waved again and flashed a peace sign and turned to hurry home.
Eugene locked the door and went back in.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Linda
Linda was the morning chef. She'd been doing it since forever, not long after the place opened. The customers loved her with her gruff humor.
Today was just like any other day for Linda, except the meeting coming up. She'd squeeze that in no problem. She fell into her routine, signing in, putting her jacket away and getting her favorite tools from her locker. She headed for the freezer and collected all her needs taking it to the grill area. Early breakfast customers would be waiting for opening soon and she paced herself to be ready.
Eugene helped her set up for breakfast, joking with her off and on. He liked this time the best. He was mostly done with baking (only a few more rounds of oven bread) and this was the transition to cooking and as the back-up to Linda. Eugene told Linda about Ed, "...and he left without saying a word and leaving the front door unlocked."
Linda didn't really know Ed as their shifts rarely overlapped, but she knew his ways from how other people spoke about him, mainly Eugene. She shook her head and said, "That sure doesn't sound like Ed, I hope nothing's seriously wrong. And you haven't been able to reach his cell?"
"No. I'm a bit worried." Eugene faced his job and tried to put Ed in the back of the mind.
~~~~~
Tammy the front clerk went and unlocked the entrance. Several of the regulars were there of course, greeting the girl as they came in. A few lined up immediately, others picked out there usual locale and sat down. Eugene and Linda went into action, even knowing what to start preparing simply from seeing the faces of the regulars.
Eugene was making his special thick french toast for old man Rusty, who sat at the bar, and had it EVERY time. Eugene also was making himself a couple for his own breakfast. Looking around he saw Gena, the newer cook wandering over to help. Beyond her, Eugene saw Ray going into the office. "Well, I guess Gena can take over. I'm grabbing my french toast and going to the office for the meeting. Linda, you come on in when you get a slow spell."
~~~~
Eugene chewed his breakfast as he listened to Ray. It was more of the usual, business forecast, sales, etc. As he finished up his food, he decided to jump in. "Did I tell you about Ed last night?"
"No. What happened."
Well, he got sick real fast, stomach thing. Then he went out into the dining area to lay back. I went and checked on him and he was gone and he had left the front door unlocked. I've tried his cell about a thousand times and nothing."
Ray was concerned. "You don't think he went to the hospital?"
"Oh yeah, I'd called all of them about an hour ago."
"Well Eugene, we might have to reschedule tonights bake and be ready with a helper to take Ed's place."
"I hope he calls in, I left about ten messages so if he gets them he knows we need to hear from him. Ray, can you call his contact number after the meeting?"
"Sure. On a new subject, I'd like to do a store tour of all of our locations tomorrow. You, me, Linda...and a couple of others from the locations, maybe Alan the manager trainee at the Greenpath store.
"No problem. We've been needing to do that for awhile. We've gotten away from that. I haven't been to The Front in about four months. Set it up. 9:30, 10:00?"
"Yeah, ten o'clock works. We can break up this meeting if you'd like and talk more tomorrow."
Sure thing. I'll send Linda in."
Today was just like any other day for Linda, except the meeting coming up. She'd squeeze that in no problem. She fell into her routine, signing in, putting her jacket away and getting her favorite tools from her locker. She headed for the freezer and collected all her needs taking it to the grill area. Early breakfast customers would be waiting for opening soon and she paced herself to be ready.
Eugene helped her set up for breakfast, joking with her off and on. He liked this time the best. He was mostly done with baking (only a few more rounds of oven bread) and this was the transition to cooking and as the back-up to Linda. Eugene told Linda about Ed, "...and he left without saying a word and leaving the front door unlocked."
Linda didn't really know Ed as their shifts rarely overlapped, but she knew his ways from how other people spoke about him, mainly Eugene. She shook her head and said, "That sure doesn't sound like Ed, I hope nothing's seriously wrong. And you haven't been able to reach his cell?"
"No. I'm a bit worried." Eugene faced his job and tried to put Ed in the back of the mind.
~~~~~
Tammy the front clerk went and unlocked the entrance. Several of the regulars were there of course, greeting the girl as they came in. A few lined up immediately, others picked out there usual locale and sat down. Eugene and Linda went into action, even knowing what to start preparing simply from seeing the faces of the regulars.
Eugene was making his special thick french toast for old man Rusty, who sat at the bar, and had it EVERY time. Eugene also was making himself a couple for his own breakfast. Looking around he saw Gena, the newer cook wandering over to help. Beyond her, Eugene saw Ray going into the office. "Well, I guess Gena can take over. I'm grabbing my french toast and going to the office for the meeting. Linda, you come on in when you get a slow spell."
~~~~
Eugene chewed his breakfast as he listened to Ray. It was more of the usual, business forecast, sales, etc. As he finished up his food, he decided to jump in. "Did I tell you about Ed last night?"
"No. What happened."
Well, he got sick real fast, stomach thing. Then he went out into the dining area to lay back. I went and checked on him and he was gone and he had left the front door unlocked. I've tried his cell about a thousand times and nothing."
Ray was concerned. "You don't think he went to the hospital?"
"Oh yeah, I'd called all of them about an hour ago."
"Well Eugene, we might have to reschedule tonights bake and be ready with a helper to take Ed's place."
"I hope he calls in, I left about ten messages so if he gets them he knows we need to hear from him. Ray, can you call his contact number after the meeting?"
"Sure. On a new subject, I'd like to do a store tour of all of our locations tomorrow. You, me, Linda...and a couple of others from the locations, maybe Alan the manager trainee at the Greenpath store.
"No problem. We've been needing to do that for awhile. We've gotten away from that. I haven't been to The Front in about four months. Set it up. 9:30, 10:00?"
"Yeah, ten o'clock works. We can break up this meeting if you'd like and talk more tomorrow."
Sure thing. I'll send Linda in."
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Eugene, Day one
As the man drove to work, he daydreamed about his view. He noticed the leaf piles along the street and reminded himself of youth raking up piles to jump into. He also noted that he had to get his own yard raked soon. He noticed a PT Cruiser and wished he had one, he didn't know why but they appealed to him. He swerved the car just a bit to steer clear of a youngster biking on the side. He wasn't close, but moving the car that way should have let the kid know that he saw him. He smiled about a pictured memory of the time he smacked his face into the sideview mirror on a truck because he had been biking looking behind. He had been more embarassed and surprised rather than hurt.
He thought about work. He would get to the cafe he co-owned around 200am. He was the baker/ breakfast chef working until nine or ten am. The early baker was there already mixing the doughs for Eugene to bake. He hoped for a normal day being that it was midweek.
He had been part owner for 15 years now and the cafe was booming. Eugene still did the bread baking after all that time because he liked the job. The business had grown into four other locations and the bottled sauces they had created were going to be sold retail locally in a few months. Eugene had some sort of foreboding about the day despite his optimism, but he mentally noted, "I've had those sort of feelings before and nothing happened."
He arrived at the original downtown location, parked his car, grabbed his bag of personal items and unlocked the back door. Ed saw him come in and yelled "Hey You!"
Eugene went over to Ed thinking about that "Hey You." It was a play on his first name Eugene. When he was little he was called "you" about as often as "gene" and "Eugene." So "Hey You" became another name as he aged. He had even signed his name with the first two letters of his name, Eu, for many years. He welcomed the play on words and letters to his name.
Ed told him that all the dough mixing went well but also informed Eu that he wasn't feeling well with a nauscious stomach. Ed joked a bit, "My stomach's churnin' but I'll keep burnin'...bread."
"Suuure, Ed. You wouldn't burn bread if your stomach was exploding."
Eugene headed over to get started. He generally had the same order of day. Pan up the dough, ready sweets (begin coffeecakes etc.), start baking breads from the panned up dough, yadda, yadda. From five to six Eugene would convert into breakfast chef making crepes, french toast, stylish omelets for the opening customers. He knew many of them in some sort of way. He would cook and then meet with customers for quick conversations, winding down from the night.
His partner Ray shows up about this time. He runs the busy time of breakfast and sets up the lunch shift. The cafe didn't serve dinner and closed by mid-afternoon.
Eugene thought about Ray. They needed to meet this morning about the business aspect, dollars to donuts stuff. This was the best meeting time as Eugene was near done and Ray getting started. Eugene thought about how the meetings USED TO BE one of the best parts of the week, now they were quick info-filled discussions. There WAS the monthly ideas meeting, where new product interests were bantered about.
Eugene tuned into his task at hand, rolling sweet dough for shaping later. Ed and Eu didn't talk much, their work areas were somewhat separate. Eu saw Ed coming up and listened to him, "Hey You, I'm REAALLY not feeling so good."
Eu was worried, "How bad? Can you still work? Do you want to sit down for awhile?"
Ed shook his head. "I'll lay down out in a booth for a few minutes, but I'm not too optimistic about a fast recovery." Ed brightened a bit "But You, you don't have much to cover, I'm almost done."
Ed told Eugene what wasn't finished and was laying down. Eu combined his regular timeline with the work Ed left and he sped through an hour or so of work. He had caught up his day and went looking for Ed. Eugene couldn't find him out in the dining room and then noticed the front door was open. "That's strange. Did Ed make a run for it or something like that?"
He dug out his cell and tried calling Ed. No answer, just the usual message. Ed thought "How odd, Ed didn't even say goodbye."
Eugene hurried back to work. He passed the day in that robotic manner of completing tasks in a standard time and order. He heard the door alarm and knew (as he always knew) that the opening phase was starting because Linda was coming in. He greeted her with a joke as he passed by carrying the cheese flavors to the grill, "You know why they call today Tuesday don't you? Because it's two times as bad as Monday."
Linda liked to complain about work, yet always showed up, ever faithful. Eugene knew his joke would get her going on a complaint. "You Know? I'm grumpy because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed...TWICE...just because it's Tuesday."
They smiled at each other in passing. They had pride in their morning banter and Eugene thought that that was a good exchange.
He thought about work. He would get to the cafe he co-owned around 200am. He was the baker/ breakfast chef working until nine or ten am. The early baker was there already mixing the doughs for Eugene to bake. He hoped for a normal day being that it was midweek.
He had been part owner for 15 years now and the cafe was booming. Eugene still did the bread baking after all that time because he liked the job. The business had grown into four other locations and the bottled sauces they had created were going to be sold retail locally in a few months. Eugene had some sort of foreboding about the day despite his optimism, but he mentally noted, "I've had those sort of feelings before and nothing happened."
He arrived at the original downtown location, parked his car, grabbed his bag of personal items and unlocked the back door. Ed saw him come in and yelled "Hey You!"
Eugene went over to Ed thinking about that "Hey You." It was a play on his first name Eugene. When he was little he was called "you" about as often as "gene" and "Eugene." So "Hey You" became another name as he aged. He had even signed his name with the first two letters of his name, Eu, for many years. He welcomed the play on words and letters to his name.
Ed told him that all the dough mixing went well but also informed Eu that he wasn't feeling well with a nauscious stomach. Ed joked a bit, "My stomach's churnin' but I'll keep burnin'...bread."
"Suuure, Ed. You wouldn't burn bread if your stomach was exploding."
Eugene headed over to get started. He generally had the same order of day. Pan up the dough, ready sweets (begin coffeecakes etc.), start baking breads from the panned up dough, yadda, yadda. From five to six Eugene would convert into breakfast chef making crepes, french toast, stylish omelets for the opening customers. He knew many of them in some sort of way. He would cook and then meet with customers for quick conversations, winding down from the night.
His partner Ray shows up about this time. He runs the busy time of breakfast and sets up the lunch shift. The cafe didn't serve dinner and closed by mid-afternoon.
Eugene thought about Ray. They needed to meet this morning about the business aspect, dollars to donuts stuff. This was the best meeting time as Eugene was near done and Ray getting started. Eugene thought about how the meetings USED TO BE one of the best parts of the week, now they were quick info-filled discussions. There WAS the monthly ideas meeting, where new product interests were bantered about.
Eugene tuned into his task at hand, rolling sweet dough for shaping later. Ed and Eu didn't talk much, their work areas were somewhat separate. Eu saw Ed coming up and listened to him, "Hey You, I'm REAALLY not feeling so good."
Eu was worried, "How bad? Can you still work? Do you want to sit down for awhile?"
Ed shook his head. "I'll lay down out in a booth for a few minutes, but I'm not too optimistic about a fast recovery." Ed brightened a bit "But You, you don't have much to cover, I'm almost done."
Ed told Eugene what wasn't finished and was laying down. Eu combined his regular timeline with the work Ed left and he sped through an hour or so of work. He had caught up his day and went looking for Ed. Eugene couldn't find him out in the dining room and then noticed the front door was open. "That's strange. Did Ed make a run for it or something like that?"
He dug out his cell and tried calling Ed. No answer, just the usual message. Ed thought "How odd, Ed didn't even say goodbye."
Eugene hurried back to work. He passed the day in that robotic manner of completing tasks in a standard time and order. He heard the door alarm and knew (as he always knew) that the opening phase was starting because Linda was coming in. He greeted her with a joke as he passed by carrying the cheese flavors to the grill, "You know why they call today Tuesday don't you? Because it's two times as bad as Monday."
Linda liked to complain about work, yet always showed up, ever faithful. Eugene knew his joke would get her going on a complaint. "You Know? I'm grumpy because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed...TWICE...just because it's Tuesday."
They smiled at each other in passing. They had pride in their morning banter and Eugene thought that that was a good exchange.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
City or Farm
Eugene sat in the lawn chair and assessed his position. He opened another bottle of beer as he thought about his transportation situation. After raiding the neighborhood for cars and such, his end of the street was strewn with methods to travel. He had a Cooper and an ATV, along with a tow truck and a Rec vehicle. He had several bicycles and motorcycles but was still prizing a Segway. His car collection was growing, many of them he kept in the other garages near his house. He had a personal gas station about two blocks away that he had rigged up to operate on a generator, where he also had parked about five cars. He had a cache' of traveling modes.
He thought about how much things had changed in so short of time. Sipping his beer he thought how it all seemed like he had fell into an alternative universe. Or that this was a major hallucination to vanish unexpectedly. Was he crazy, he often wondered. Almost every person on Earth had perished. He knew that there were other people out there because he had listened on the CB radio in the truck. But for now he thought of this time as HIS hallucination and nobody else was involved. He thought about the future as a step-by-step effort to survive.
He clicked off the mental list of things to do, but returned to a major question. "Should I find a farm?" His eating habits were going to have to change in a few weeks. Milk and eggs would go bad all over the world and certainly where Eugene lived. He worried about his long term diet. Boxed food would last a long time, powdered milk, cereal and canned goods would get him through a long period. There was tons of bottled water sitting on shelves in empty stores. But he suspected that if he didn't get to a farm then the milk and eggs might be a thing of the past as he knew it.
Cows and chickens are human animals, that is to say that they probably can't survive in the wild without human intervention. The cows would be sitting ducks for the coyotes and wolves, the chickens would be sitting ducks for cats, and the sitting ducks would start flying to avoid what happens to the cows and chickens.
Eugene believed that if he didn't get to a farm and save the animals then he might never see chicken eggs, cows milk and beef steak again. It was now day 5 after the crash, he wondered if finding a farm tomorrow might already be too late. He thought that somewhere in America a farmer survived and kept the farm thriving, but even if true Eugene wondered whether he'd ever know.
He wanted a horse. Although Eugene never had been riding before he had always wanted to fly like the wind. In this new world horseback riding could be a reliable mode of transportation. That settled it. Tomorrow Eugene would spend the day checking out the farms that remained in the west suburbs. These places were nearly tourist outposts of working farms. They had lasted as the property values rose in the growing subdivisions around them by specializing, organic fruits for instance was one. A few were horse farms and others had the traditional corn, cows and coop that allowed tours.
Eugene wondered how they had fared after the five days. Were the animals still alive? If they did were they still penned and hadn't escaped? Would there be anyone there? Or would someone else in this city think of the same thing Eugene did? Were there others thinking about future bar burgers?
This would be a major undertaking, the biggest since the second day for Eugene. This trip would be a day long venture he figured. He listed the necessities randomly, flashlights, guns, food, bottled water, some kind of book about farms for the novice (Farming For Dummies?), several pair of jeans and shirts. He calculated that the PT Cruiser would be enough car. It would hold enough supplies yet be on the smaller side in order to be able to jockey around the occasional crash remnants on the roads. Cars and trucks were everywhere. Cars abandoned in the middle of streets, Eugene imagined some crazy leaping out of the drivers side and running away screaming most times he saw those awkwardly parked cars.
He finished off his beer and reached into the cooler for another. Twisting the cap off, sipping the rising foam, he settled the bottle on the side table and picked up his journal. He tore into his writing, scribbling as much information as he could recall from his day as fast as he could. He had several to-do lists throughout the journal and he kept writing new ones. He flipped through the old ones, checked off any completions and followed the check with the day number, today he wrote plenty of fives. He knew he was indirectly writing his history and a history of the world as he learned of it. Most of the world info he wrote in a second journal. He had a third journal for important knowledge such as conversion charts, instructions for hooking up generators, hand draw maps of places he'd been, etc.
Eugene picked up the journals on the second day almost out of chance as he had thrown twenty of them into his cart that night he looted supplies. The books of blank paper seemed a bit odd among the important looking items such as batteries, food, gas containers (he had one full cart of them alone), etc. He had looted a major market locally known in Michigan as Meijers in a late hour raid. This was his first looting and he had been plenty worried about meeting other looters, but needlessly as he looted quickly and escaped back to his base around his old house.
"And now I'm going to visit the farm!" he said out loud. He wrote up a quick to-do list for tomorrow's trip from his memory of an earlier mental list. He also wondered about his speaking aloud. Sometimes he surprised himself with his own voice and he often wondered if it was crazy speaking aloud to no one but himself. Which logically brought him around to the question of his own sanity, was he crazy or going crazy? "Or am I sane in a crazy situation?" He asked himself as he spoke to the empty yard.
He wasn't afraid of meeting other people, at least not trembling at the thought. Eugene considered creating his own survival environment his top priority. He had his base, here, basically his chair in the backyard would be the center point of his "empire" he jokingly referred to as his home. The six or seven houses and yards around his home had ceded their authority to Eugene's empire, he looted and annexed them. Now he was planning an "invasion" of an empty(?) farm area that he hoped would become his second base. Eugene exclaimed "I'm a madman general in a mad-ridden world!" to his empty yard. He laughed a small chuckle and went back to his beer for a good swallow and then back to his journal.
He thought about how much things had changed in so short of time. Sipping his beer he thought how it all seemed like he had fell into an alternative universe. Or that this was a major hallucination to vanish unexpectedly. Was he crazy, he often wondered. Almost every person on Earth had perished. He knew that there were other people out there because he had listened on the CB radio in the truck. But for now he thought of this time as HIS hallucination and nobody else was involved. He thought about the future as a step-by-step effort to survive.
He clicked off the mental list of things to do, but returned to a major question. "Should I find a farm?" His eating habits were going to have to change in a few weeks. Milk and eggs would go bad all over the world and certainly where Eugene lived. He worried about his long term diet. Boxed food would last a long time, powdered milk, cereal and canned goods would get him through a long period. There was tons of bottled water sitting on shelves in empty stores. But he suspected that if he didn't get to a farm then the milk and eggs might be a thing of the past as he knew it.
Cows and chickens are human animals, that is to say that they probably can't survive in the wild without human intervention. The cows would be sitting ducks for the coyotes and wolves, the chickens would be sitting ducks for cats, and the sitting ducks would start flying to avoid what happens to the cows and chickens.
Eugene believed that if he didn't get to a farm and save the animals then he might never see chicken eggs, cows milk and beef steak again. It was now day 5 after the crash, he wondered if finding a farm tomorrow might already be too late. He thought that somewhere in America a farmer survived and kept the farm thriving, but even if true Eugene wondered whether he'd ever know.
He wanted a horse. Although Eugene never had been riding before he had always wanted to fly like the wind. In this new world horseback riding could be a reliable mode of transportation. That settled it. Tomorrow Eugene would spend the day checking out the farms that remained in the west suburbs. These places were nearly tourist outposts of working farms. They had lasted as the property values rose in the growing subdivisions around them by specializing, organic fruits for instance was one. A few were horse farms and others had the traditional corn, cows and coop that allowed tours.
Eugene wondered how they had fared after the five days. Were the animals still alive? If they did were they still penned and hadn't escaped? Would there be anyone there? Or would someone else in this city think of the same thing Eugene did? Were there others thinking about future bar burgers?
This would be a major undertaking, the biggest since the second day for Eugene. This trip would be a day long venture he figured. He listed the necessities randomly, flashlights, guns, food, bottled water, some kind of book about farms for the novice (Farming For Dummies?), several pair of jeans and shirts. He calculated that the PT Cruiser would be enough car. It would hold enough supplies yet be on the smaller side in order to be able to jockey around the occasional crash remnants on the roads. Cars and trucks were everywhere. Cars abandoned in the middle of streets, Eugene imagined some crazy leaping out of the drivers side and running away screaming most times he saw those awkwardly parked cars.
He finished off his beer and reached into the cooler for another. Twisting the cap off, sipping the rising foam, he settled the bottle on the side table and picked up his journal. He tore into his writing, scribbling as much information as he could recall from his day as fast as he could. He had several to-do lists throughout the journal and he kept writing new ones. He flipped through the old ones, checked off any completions and followed the check with the day number, today he wrote plenty of fives. He knew he was indirectly writing his history and a history of the world as he learned of it. Most of the world info he wrote in a second journal. He had a third journal for important knowledge such as conversion charts, instructions for hooking up generators, hand draw maps of places he'd been, etc.
Eugene picked up the journals on the second day almost out of chance as he had thrown twenty of them into his cart that night he looted supplies. The books of blank paper seemed a bit odd among the important looking items such as batteries, food, gas containers (he had one full cart of them alone), etc. He had looted a major market locally known in Michigan as Meijers in a late hour raid. This was his first looting and he had been plenty worried about meeting other looters, but needlessly as he looted quickly and escaped back to his base around his old house.
"And now I'm going to visit the farm!" he said out loud. He wrote up a quick to-do list for tomorrow's trip from his memory of an earlier mental list. He also wondered about his speaking aloud. Sometimes he surprised himself with his own voice and he often wondered if it was crazy speaking aloud to no one but himself. Which logically brought him around to the question of his own sanity, was he crazy or going crazy? "Or am I sane in a crazy situation?" He asked himself as he spoke to the empty yard.
He wasn't afraid of meeting other people, at least not trembling at the thought. Eugene considered creating his own survival environment his top priority. He had his base, here, basically his chair in the backyard would be the center point of his "empire" he jokingly referred to as his home. The six or seven houses and yards around his home had ceded their authority to Eugene's empire, he looted and annexed them. Now he was planning an "invasion" of an empty(?) farm area that he hoped would become his second base. Eugene exclaimed "I'm a madman general in a mad-ridden world!" to his empty yard. He laughed a small chuckle and went back to his beer for a good swallow and then back to his journal.
Monday, November 05, 2007
alien decision
The Conference Panel was the big event. Everyone would be there, either to speak, present data, offer counter discussion or to just enjoy the spectacle. Most Gloppits, depending upon their assignments, would only experience one Conference Panel in their lifetimes, they could be so rare.
~~~~~~~
The gallery nearly held its' breath for the anticipation of the main speaker, Ghotumassa. As she approached the center of the circle, her accumulated wisdom and experience virtually shone about her. Ghotumassa was not here to present data or debate the issue. No, she would make a statement of how she felt and the weight of her words meant plenty. What she said would give a dramatic emphasis to the prevailing opinion or if she should counter that opinion it was likely that mass discussion would break out and the Conference Panel would ultimately adjourn until a later time. Ghotumassa could surprise or confirm.
In the center of the circle she didn't speak but just calmly viewed all The Gloppits, slowly completeing a full turn until she returned to the front mark. Here she mentally gathered herself and began her remarks.
"Our kind has a duty, it is our reason for existence. Since the Great Emergence of our past, we have followed this duty for thousands of generations and through the vastness of space." Ghotumassa paused. She thought, "it's important to express this at the beginning despite all Gloppits knowing it deep within."
Continuing to the gallery, "We come together to decide the fate of a species. We've made many Species Population Adjustments throughout our existence and this is another to be faced. We do not do this for fun, or for anger, it is what we do. We do not shy from this task, if the task is to be done, and we do not adjust unless we have researched it to perfection."
Ghotumassa gazed at the gallery and saw the swaying of agreement. No one could disagree with her opening remarks. She shifted and continued. "We've been studying this species for a long time now, several hundred years by their time standard. We know all their languages, their history, their motivations and their genetics. Research has accumulated to all-knowing."
"We had hoped that sometime during our research that the species would change their exploitive ways. They've had the information they needed to do so if they had desired. They indeed know that they are subjecting their home world to extreme stresses and they exist with the knowledge that they casually exterminate other species that they share their world with. They are winning a war against the other life forms, yet don't understand that they are even in a war of their choice. They wage this war and have not found the ethics needed to stop."
She had summarized the research, the data had already been presented. Her talent was to get everyone focused on the basic task and whether to perform the duty.
"Our eternal purpose is to intervene against any dominant species of a planet that can't evolve beyond destroying the other species that don't threaten them on that planet. We are here to judge this species."
The gallery of Gloppits visually set their bodies in anticipation, Ghotumassa could see this, she could feel it. Her experience told her that they were ready for her decision.
"The time has come to act. This species has reached an apex of recklessness that must be controlled. It is our duty. Eventually this species will come to understand that they will be treated as they have treated other species. They will understand that their near extinction was in effect, their own fault. The Species Population Adjustment must commence. These Humans must be given the treatment. I propose that the project be named from something in their language which is appropriate. We must begin a countdown for Project Do Unto Others."
Everyone in the gallery shifted into a different position as they began to contemplate Ghotumassa's words. She left the center and returned to her place in the galley. She also began to think and to feel her own words and the importance of what she delivered. It was said, she knew nearly certainly what would happen next.
~~~~~~~
The gallery nearly held its' breath for the anticipation of the main speaker, Ghotumassa. As she approached the center of the circle, her accumulated wisdom and experience virtually shone about her. Ghotumassa was not here to present data or debate the issue. No, she would make a statement of how she felt and the weight of her words meant plenty. What she said would give a dramatic emphasis to the prevailing opinion or if she should counter that opinion it was likely that mass discussion would break out and the Conference Panel would ultimately adjourn until a later time. Ghotumassa could surprise or confirm.
In the center of the circle she didn't speak but just calmly viewed all The Gloppits, slowly completeing a full turn until she returned to the front mark. Here she mentally gathered herself and began her remarks.
"Our kind has a duty, it is our reason for existence. Since the Great Emergence of our past, we have followed this duty for thousands of generations and through the vastness of space." Ghotumassa paused. She thought, "it's important to express this at the beginning despite all Gloppits knowing it deep within."
Continuing to the gallery, "We come together to decide the fate of a species. We've made many Species Population Adjustments throughout our existence and this is another to be faced. We do not do this for fun, or for anger, it is what we do. We do not shy from this task, if the task is to be done, and we do not adjust unless we have researched it to perfection."
Ghotumassa gazed at the gallery and saw the swaying of agreement. No one could disagree with her opening remarks. She shifted and continued. "We've been studying this species for a long time now, several hundred years by their time standard. We know all their languages, their history, their motivations and their genetics. Research has accumulated to all-knowing."
"We had hoped that sometime during our research that the species would change their exploitive ways. They've had the information they needed to do so if they had desired. They indeed know that they are subjecting their home world to extreme stresses and they exist with the knowledge that they casually exterminate other species that they share their world with. They are winning a war against the other life forms, yet don't understand that they are even in a war of their choice. They wage this war and have not found the ethics needed to stop."
She had summarized the research, the data had already been presented. Her talent was to get everyone focused on the basic task and whether to perform the duty.
"Our eternal purpose is to intervene against any dominant species of a planet that can't evolve beyond destroying the other species that don't threaten them on that planet. We are here to judge this species."
The gallery of Gloppits visually set their bodies in anticipation, Ghotumassa could see this, she could feel it. Her experience told her that they were ready for her decision.
"The time has come to act. This species has reached an apex of recklessness that must be controlled. It is our duty. Eventually this species will come to understand that they will be treated as they have treated other species. They will understand that their near extinction was in effect, their own fault. The Species Population Adjustment must commence. These Humans must be given the treatment. I propose that the project be named from something in their language which is appropriate. We must begin a countdown for Project Do Unto Others."
Everyone in the gallery shifted into a different position as they began to contemplate Ghotumassa's words. She left the center and returned to her place in the galley. She also began to think and to feel her own words and the importance of what she delivered. It was said, she knew nearly certainly what would happen next.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
things to do
Next piece is after Linda...a customer gets ill, linda goes crazy paranoid about blaming her cooking. The health department, hospital are contacted but phones? or becoming hectic at those places? causes no one to visit the cafe.
Jessica, nurse, at the hospital. Single, good worker, about 35, intelligent.
The city goes crazy and dies.
Rob called on his cell phone on the way to work, sent on assignment.
Bio some people going crazy, the early odd behavior. Then some sudden insane actions, some that Rob and Jessica observe directly, other actions out of their scenes.
Do a historical outline of ergot poisoning.
Create an outdoor cat, bio her life before the crash.
Bio....mountain lion, coyote, others....before and after the crash.
Jessica, nurse, at the hospital. Single, good worker, about 35, intelligent.
The city goes crazy and dies.
Rob called on his cell phone on the way to work, sent on assignment.
Bio some people going crazy, the early odd behavior. Then some sudden insane actions, some that Rob and Jessica observe directly, other actions out of their scenes.
Do a historical outline of ergot poisoning.
Create an outdoor cat, bio her life before the crash.
Bio....mountain lion, coyote, others....before and after the crash.
Rob Barkstone
Robert Raymond Johnson woke to his cell phone alarm and turned it off quickly. He didn't want to wake Cathleen so early in the morning, he thought naturally. He allowed himself a five minute half dreaming/half thinking relaxation moment. Rob was predicting his future as he thought about his next immediate moves, for instance, putting his feet on the ground and retrieving the clothes he set out last night. He half dreamed his drive to work, his morning meeting, his next assignment, and fleeting pictures in his mind of possible events in his day. Finally he concentrated on the thoughts about actually getting out of bed.
He began his routine. Stand up, grab the clothes, wallet, cell phone, his daily items. Moving to the bathroom he went on with his rituals. The shower was his ...... The long, hot shower woke his brain up and his mind was predicting things again. Dry off, do the sink stuff, dress and get on to the other rooms of the house. In the kitchen he made a bowl of cereal, ate it and grabbed three bottles of water from the fridge and left them on the kitchen table. In the home office he found his duffle bag and laptop and went back to the kitchen table, leaving them there. Rob went outside to the patio in the backyard for a few more minutes to relax.
As he sat there quietly he sipped his water. He produced a joint and lit it. Rob knew he should give up pot, but it helped him get through the day. He rationalized that smoking dope was no different than some of his co-workers and their prescription drugs, their happy pills. Everyone seemed to have an addiction, coffee fiends were everywhere, cigarette smokers, nicotine gum chewers, drinkers, his professional group had addictions he thought. Besides, he only smoked one doob all day, he just took small breaks for a few hits. This was the first break, another chance to do more prophetizing about what his day would be like.
He loved his job and liked most of his colleages. He thought about what little joke he would tell Judy, something related to yesterday he predicted. He remembered that Sam was driving today and smiled, Sam was the best truck operator the station had. His mind drifted to the meeting, and he was guessing what story might be his. That city council meeting that got so heated yesterday? He hoped for something related to the Tigers, the team was in a good pennant race and he loved baseball, but he also knew he was the top reporter today and would be expected to cover the hottest story. He wondered if he could get over to the stadium for a quick story after whatever assignment he first got.
Rob carefully stubbed out the joint and put it away to take with him. He lit a cigarette and sipped water. He only smoked about four or five cigarettes a day, this was the starter. Rob now thought about history, somehow his mind had jumped to yesterday's story. It hadn't gone well. Interviewing the policeman at that gas station explosion was strange. "The man seemed to have a breakdown right in front of me." In mid-interview Sgt. Friday started talking some sort of gibberish. Rob laughed at that for a moment, a policeman named Sgt. Friday, what were the chances? Certainly it helped Rob remember his name compared to so many cops he interviewed. Some of the other officers came and got Friday and told us we couldn't use the tape, Rob recalled.
He also thought about his wife and family. Cath was great, the two kids he loved like nothing else. He wished he had more time for them, he expected that his next promotion would yield more personal time. The kids deserved more attention and Rob wanted to give it. As a top beat reporter there would be fewer assignments and a little more family time. Rob was in line for the top tier and everyone at the station knew Rob was probably going to replace his own mentor. He had mixed feelings about that. Tom Westerling showed him the ropes and Rob became his fan. Ol' Tom had been all over the town and this was his third station over the 40 or so years.
Time to move. Rob went back inside, collected up the stuff on the kitchen table and began to head for the door. He noticed his dog was giving him "the look" so Rob hooked him up to leash and let him out. He wished he had time for ---Bruno--- but he needed to get moving. While the dog did his thing in the backyard, Rob loaded the car. He called for Bruno who was excited to see him and wanted to play. Rob rubbed Bruno's back for a minute and then let him in the door.
Getting in the car, Rob
He began his routine. Stand up, grab the clothes, wallet, cell phone, his daily items. Moving to the bathroom he went on with his rituals. The shower was his ...... The long, hot shower woke his brain up and his mind was predicting things again. Dry off, do the sink stuff, dress and get on to the other rooms of the house. In the kitchen he made a bowl of cereal, ate it and grabbed three bottles of water from the fridge and left them on the kitchen table. In the home office he found his duffle bag and laptop and went back to the kitchen table, leaving them there. Rob went outside to the patio in the backyard for a few more minutes to relax.
As he sat there quietly he sipped his water. He produced a joint and lit it. Rob knew he should give up pot, but it helped him get through the day. He rationalized that smoking dope was no different than some of his co-workers and their prescription drugs, their happy pills. Everyone seemed to have an addiction, coffee fiends were everywhere, cigarette smokers, nicotine gum chewers, drinkers, his professional group had addictions he thought. Besides, he only smoked one doob all day, he just took small breaks for a few hits. This was the first break, another chance to do more prophetizing about what his day would be like.
He loved his job and liked most of his colleages. He thought about what little joke he would tell Judy, something related to yesterday he predicted. He remembered that Sam was driving today and smiled, Sam was the best truck operator the station had. His mind drifted to the meeting, and he was guessing what story might be his. That city council meeting that got so heated yesterday? He hoped for something related to the Tigers, the team was in a good pennant race and he loved baseball, but he also knew he was the top reporter today and would be expected to cover the hottest story. He wondered if he could get over to the stadium for a quick story after whatever assignment he first got.
Rob carefully stubbed out the joint and put it away to take with him. He lit a cigarette and sipped water. He only smoked about four or five cigarettes a day, this was the starter. Rob now thought about history, somehow his mind had jumped to yesterday's story. It hadn't gone well. Interviewing the policeman at that gas station explosion was strange. "The man seemed to have a breakdown right in front of me." In mid-interview Sgt. Friday started talking some sort of gibberish. Rob laughed at that for a moment, a policeman named Sgt. Friday, what were the chances? Certainly it helped Rob remember his name compared to so many cops he interviewed. Some of the other officers came and got Friday and told us we couldn't use the tape, Rob recalled.
He also thought about his wife and family. Cath was great, the two kids he loved like nothing else. He wished he had more time for them, he expected that his next promotion would yield more personal time. The kids deserved more attention and Rob wanted to give it. As a top beat reporter there would be fewer assignments and a little more family time. Rob was in line for the top tier and everyone at the station knew Rob was probably going to replace his own mentor. He had mixed feelings about that. Tom Westerling showed him the ropes and Rob became his fan. Ol' Tom had been all over the town and this was his third station over the 40 or so years.
Time to move. Rob went back inside, collected up the stuff on the kitchen table and began to head for the door. He noticed his dog was giving him "the look" so Rob hooked him up to leash and let him out. He wished he had time for ---Bruno--- but he needed to get moving. While the dog did his thing in the backyard, Rob loaded the car. He called for Bruno who was excited to see him and wanted to play. Rob rubbed Bruno's back for a minute and then let him in the door.
Getting in the car, Rob
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Bruno's plight
Bruno was slowly pacing in the living room. His senses knew something wasn't right. Bruno wondered why his people hadn't returned yet. He was listening for the familiar noises outside of the house that usually indicated the people were going to come inside, greet him and fill his food bowl. Bruno was quite hungry. He had a water source, the dripping bathroom sink which he had figured out this morning to simply lift up his front paws to the edge of the sink and lick the slow drips and any water in the basin. Now he resumed smelling around for something to eat after checking his food bowl once again.
Today was the first day Bruno had been scavaging around to satisfy his hunger. He was regretting finishing off the food in the bowl in the middle of the second day, he had been so used to the people's timetable. They just had never been gone this long and Bruno worried. After three days of captivity within the house Bruno had been pooping and peeing in one of the bedrooms and he knew he would have to start to do that in a different area of the house soon, instinct told him so. Bruno also knew he was changing his routines and habits, it seemed so disruptive to him.
Always he paid attention to his sense of hearing. It had been sometime yesterday that he realized that the noise of the traveling machines the people moved about in were almost completely quiet. Occasionally he still heard the rush of a traveling machine in the distance and with his good aural sense knew it wasn't related to his people.
He was feeling lonely for his people and was understanding the reliance he had on them. He missed them all and the mom he missed the most who changed his water and filled his bowl. Bruno's memory flitted between the images of the people, the first boy ruffling his fur, the Dad playing tug the rope, and the second boy doing the tricks for treats routine. Bruno was missing the exciting events such as riding in the traveling machine with the mom on her errands, and the mundane things like doing a walk-around to check on the safety of the home.
Bruno finally laid down on his usual night time sleeping mat. It was a soft mat and provided warmth, but being that it was early autumn he wasn't worried about temperature. He began to dream, a fitful sleep as his hearing alerted him to the lack of outside background noise that was normal during the night. He woke often.
This time after coming out of sleep he gave into the urge he had, his thoughts about calling for help. Bruno never howled because the people didn't like him too. Even when they weren't in the house his training to resist the instinct prevailed . Now he gave in and began a mournful howl. He did this and then barked before every new call. Then he listened. Yes, faintly he heard the dog a few houses down. He understood his neighbor, Spiker, telling him the same things he already knew for his own situation. Spiker's people had been gone too long as well and he was also wondering what to do.
He called out to Spiker and told his own story. He stopped barking and began to think as Spiker related Bruno's story over to a farther house for Sheena to know. Now Bruno knew that the situation wasn't good, it seems all the people have failed to return to their houses. Familiar routines were completely disrupted and Bruno now thought that some plans needed to be made for the future. He laid back down to think and to get some more sleep. Tomorrow he decided it would be good to see if he could escape the house. His instinct wanted to gather with his own kind and seek food and water. Bruno sensed deep down that he and the other dogs could be in trouble.
~~~~~~~~~
Today was the first day Bruno had been scavaging around to satisfy his hunger. He was regretting finishing off the food in the bowl in the middle of the second day, he had been so used to the people's timetable. They just had never been gone this long and Bruno worried. After three days of captivity within the house Bruno had been pooping and peeing in one of the bedrooms and he knew he would have to start to do that in a different area of the house soon, instinct told him so. Bruno also knew he was changing his routines and habits, it seemed so disruptive to him.
Always he paid attention to his sense of hearing. It had been sometime yesterday that he realized that the noise of the traveling machines the people moved about in were almost completely quiet. Occasionally he still heard the rush of a traveling machine in the distance and with his good aural sense knew it wasn't related to his people.
He was feeling lonely for his people and was understanding the reliance he had on them. He missed them all and the mom he missed the most who changed his water and filled his bowl. Bruno's memory flitted between the images of the people, the first boy ruffling his fur, the Dad playing tug the rope, and the second boy doing the tricks for treats routine. Bruno was missing the exciting events such as riding in the traveling machine with the mom on her errands, and the mundane things like doing a walk-around to check on the safety of the home.
Bruno finally laid down on his usual night time sleeping mat. It was a soft mat and provided warmth, but being that it was early autumn he wasn't worried about temperature. He began to dream, a fitful sleep as his hearing alerted him to the lack of outside background noise that was normal during the night. He woke often.
This time after coming out of sleep he gave into the urge he had, his thoughts about calling for help. Bruno never howled because the people didn't like him too. Even when they weren't in the house his training to resist the instinct prevailed . Now he gave in and began a mournful howl. He did this and then barked before every new call. Then he listened. Yes, faintly he heard the dog a few houses down. He understood his neighbor, Spiker, telling him the same things he already knew for his own situation. Spiker's people had been gone too long as well and he was also wondering what to do.
He called out to Spiker and told his own story. He stopped barking and began to think as Spiker related Bruno's story over to a farther house for Sheena to know. Now Bruno knew that the situation wasn't good, it seems all the people have failed to return to their houses. Familiar routines were completely disrupted and Bruno now thought that some plans needed to be made for the future. He laid back down to think and to get some more sleep. Tomorrow he decided it would be good to see if he could escape the house. His instinct wanted to gather with his own kind and seek food and water. Bruno sensed deep down that he and the other dogs could be in trouble.
~~~~~~~~~
Sunday, October 07, 2007
novel one
"Have you approached the results we need?"
"Yes, Grannor. The team is doing modifications as the simulation programs finish. We are hoping to have the finished product within a few rotates of time."
"Thank you and I will study the results you have now." Grannor gave the sign for his leaving and moved on. In thought he reviewed the options. The most likely best choice was always the same, an extinction event. Ever since finding this world and then monitoring it, Grannor suspected that they would have to vastly reduce the population. The trick would be to achieve near extinction, but also have barest survival. Not total extermination and with zero addition growth. He knew that the final decision was a mere show. The Conference Panel had already debated all the options in mock trials, and he wasn't aware of any member that had a different proposal or at least a strong case for another choice. Grannor moved down toward his splace, lost in thought about the planned Species Population Adjustment.
Grannor entered his splace and immediately went to his lounge station. Activating the stimulscreen, he returned to his earlier thoughts. This was an important project for him and he wanted it to go as planned without many after event changes. He remembered the last Species Population Adjustment project he was involved in. Planet Gpx-1260 was to become known as Mixed Results, it didn't go well. Although Grannor wasn't the project leader, he blamed himself for a few mistakes even though his errors didn't affect the major miscalculation . The simulation programs were rushed against his objections. And no one expected such a dormant species to fill the void left by the species adjustment made to the flythings. It took plenty of after applications to even near correcting the mistakes. Grannor vowed for that not to happen this time.
Mixed Results caused the demotion of Fraddus. As the ranking second Grannor was moved to first for this assignment. He felt the pressure sometimes. He was a perfectionist but time was becoming short and the Conference Panel was becoming impatient for the initiation phase. The lab team had said just a few more rotates of time. If final modifications went as expected, Grannor could begin the extinction event on schedule. He focused on the simulscreen as the latest lab results were displayed. He relaxed as nothing was shown to be a caution investigation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The city seemed to actually vibrate with activity. People making their way up and down the street both walking and driving. The city was a flurry of movement when viewed from above. This was the current result of the rise of the human species. Huge metropolitan areas developed so that humans had things to do. Not that the cities were the only human achievement, but from an elevated perspective a city can be seen as a human paradox of chaos and order.
"Yes, Grannor. The team is doing modifications as the simulation programs finish. We are hoping to have the finished product within a few rotates of time."
"Thank you and I will study the results you have now." Grannor gave the sign for his leaving and moved on. In thought he reviewed the options. The most likely best choice was always the same, an extinction event. Ever since finding this world and then monitoring it, Grannor suspected that they would have to vastly reduce the population. The trick would be to achieve near extinction, but also have barest survival. Not total extermination and with zero addition growth. He knew that the final decision was a mere show. The Conference Panel had already debated all the options in mock trials, and he wasn't aware of any member that had a different proposal or at least a strong case for another choice. Grannor moved down toward his splace, lost in thought about the planned Species Population Adjustment.
Grannor entered his splace and immediately went to his lounge station. Activating the stimulscreen, he returned to his earlier thoughts. This was an important project for him and he wanted it to go as planned without many after event changes. He remembered the last Species Population Adjustment project he was involved in. Planet Gpx-1260 was to become known as Mixed Results, it didn't go well. Although Grannor wasn't the project leader, he blamed himself for a few mistakes even though his errors didn't affect the major miscalculation . The simulation programs were rushed against his objections. And no one expected such a dormant species to fill the void left by the species adjustment made to the flythings. It took plenty of after applications to even near correcting the mistakes. Grannor vowed for that not to happen this time.
Mixed Results caused the demotion of Fraddus. As the ranking second Grannor was moved to first for this assignment. He felt the pressure sometimes. He was a perfectionist but time was becoming short and the Conference Panel was becoming impatient for the initiation phase. The lab team had said just a few more rotates of time. If final modifications went as expected, Grannor could begin the extinction event on schedule. He focused on the simulscreen as the latest lab results were displayed. He relaxed as nothing was shown to be a caution investigation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The city seemed to actually vibrate with activity. People making their way up and down the street both walking and driving. The city was a flurry of movement when viewed from above. This was the current result of the rise of the human species. Huge metropolitan areas developed so that humans had things to do. Not that the cities were the only human achievement, but from an elevated perspective a city can be seen as a human paradox of chaos and order.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Introduction
In the early morning of a grey drizzly day, Barley Marble was brought into this world. He was not born in a hospital, but at his mother's home. Barley's mom was poor, so poor she didn't understand that a hospital would help her with the birth. She decided in the logic of a woman without friends or family to help her, that she would have her infant at home by herself.
At least that is how Barley Marble explained it.
In his way of obscuring his entire history, he purposely invents the story of his own birth. Barley Marble is an inventor of life, his own. He is a quagmire of half-truths, a magician with his cryptic timeline, a creator of self myth and an outright liar. Yet, Barley Marble can reveal facts of his life in vast detail that appears to be false, but proves to be filled with unbelievable truths.
It has been an obsession of mine to try to explore the life of Barley Marble, hard as that may be. It is this puzzle of a man that has gripped my passion. Maybe I'm just some sort of strange biographer, choosing a person who can't be understood by anyone, but at the same time a detective extraodinaire.
This weblog is the accumulation and ongoing investigation of Barley Marble. Just imagining the nearly eternal chase of the illusive life of Barley Marble has produced a grinding headache as I write. So, I'll close before pain explodes into my brain accompanied by eerie flashes of Barley's contorted face. I can already see that this project is going to wreck havoc on my mental state in ways I can't foretell at this point. I can only hope I survive and come out in the end satisfied I completed the study of Barley Marble.
At least that is how Barley Marble explained it.
In his way of obscuring his entire history, he purposely invents the story of his own birth. Barley Marble is an inventor of life, his own. He is a quagmire of half-truths, a magician with his cryptic timeline, a creator of self myth and an outright liar. Yet, Barley Marble can reveal facts of his life in vast detail that appears to be false, but proves to be filled with unbelievable truths.
It has been an obsession of mine to try to explore the life of Barley Marble, hard as that may be. It is this puzzle of a man that has gripped my passion. Maybe I'm just some sort of strange biographer, choosing a person who can't be understood by anyone, but at the same time a detective extraodinaire.
This weblog is the accumulation and ongoing investigation of Barley Marble. Just imagining the nearly eternal chase of the illusive life of Barley Marble has produced a grinding headache as I write. So, I'll close before pain explodes into my brain accompanied by eerie flashes of Barley's contorted face. I can already see that this project is going to wreck havoc on my mental state in ways I can't foretell at this point. I can only hope I survive and come out in the end satisfied I completed the study of Barley Marble.
