#how has no one talked about the soupy potential yet

[selenealwayscries]

Just finished Etho's 2 modded minecraft episodes and now I'm shaking out of sheer excitement from the amount of soup jokes and memes I can make

[equalseleventhirds]

@asmr-brutal-calliope-murder said

👏 SOUPY SCARY CIRCUS SHOW 👏

so i guess now it’s my legal obligation to soup the unknowing. bcos i CAN (altho it’s more subtle than a lot of other statements, bcos the monsters & avatars involved are like, deliberately on purpose making it about the stranger and/or their own personal idea of What The Stranger Means)

PART ONE: the attempted unknowing from 1787, mag 116 ‘the show must go on’:

before the actual ritual attempt itself, we have abraham janssen’s account of wolfgang von kempelen and the mechanical turk. both, indeed, very stranger-esque, but janssen expresses fear/discomfort at climbing inside the turk (buried) and at the grotesqueness of the technology required to make it more and more autonomous - arguably extinction, particularly when we consider later on when there are only mechanical footmen and janssen wonders at the lack of human ones (’oh algie, extinction wasn’t even a thing yet’ WELL IN SOUP THEORY IT IS or at least as much as any of the other 14 could be considered ‘a thing’). he also talks about the thrill of being secret within the turk, the trepidation on learning about the powerful empress would be the first he had to fool, and the triumph in showing off his chess skill to the unaware audience; potentially eye-related.

just before the ritual, janssen also describes the monastery-turned-theatre which would host it, with the crypt beneath the stage. interesting, how in addition to being held in a repurposed religious building, it is quite literally built upon death. hmmmm.

upon arrival janssen is lead away from the fellow attendee he attempts to make conversation with and is then afraid to even try (cutting off his human connection? little lonely). 

‘i acquiesced to the silent instructions of what i had begun to consider my captors’ hmmm (noteworthy that smirke does not have a fear for simply ‘fear of captivity’, and we must choose either buried - which it is not, because he is not held captive in a small space - and web - if you accept any sort of captivity and being ordered around as ‘web’. i’m squinting at you, bob, and your freedom as a very privileged man in the society you lived in).

there’s something to be said for how janssen feels looked at, ‘feeling as i did the unchanging faces of those mechanical beings staring down at me’. and there’s something of the eye in how he and the others kept watching: ‘every seat filled with quiet watchers, curious as to what might be about to take place, but dreading the answer we were to receive.’

given that the slaughter supposedly stopped the ritual, it’s interesting how it starts with violence and pain, sudden and irrational (especially in a former holy place/current place of what should be Entertainment). ‘the horrendous piping wail of creatures in pain’, ‘then came a single, swift downward motion, of such force that it pierced right through the wood, and buried the blade deep into the space beneath’, ‘blood began to flow gently out from beneath the base, pooling under that device’.

then there’s a moment of just nothing, not things being Wrong, but things not being. i’m not sure if that qualifies more as lonely or end, but it doesn’t feel stranger. janssen’s inability to understand english and suddenly speaking ‘a language all my own’ which no one else spoke is, obvs, stranger, but also feels lonely to a certain extent.

both the largeness of the theater and ‘(i) set it adrift upon the sky that dropped away before me’ vibe a little vast.

(it is noteworthy that this attempted ritual would have occurred before robert smirke categorized the fears and put down his theories of what the rituals would entail; indeed, three years before he was even born. one has to wonder, then, what precisely von kempelen thought he was bringing into the world; what he called it; and what aspects of fear he considered part of it. were violence and pain and the growth of technology to mimic and supersede humanity perhaps part of it? and as for the ‘slaughter’-aligned soldiers, that was simply gertrude’s guess; were they even entity-aligned at all, or some outside force determined, as so many other human individuals we’ve seen, to prevent the end of the world? and is there significance to the sightless soldiers that stopped this ritual in contrast with jon’s Knowing and Sight being so vital to blowing up nikola’s attempt?)

[aricazorel]

N7 month prompts--Day 5 Cruelty

using this prompt list

(this takes place aboard the Normandy during the Broken Road timeline)

Monday, April 7, 2183

Lt. Reese once again sat across from Lt. Alenko in the mess in the middle of the night eating ice cream. The deck seemed completed deserted except for the two Lt.’s. No one else was having a hard time sleeping due to the day’s mission. The Normandy had been dispatched to deal with an explosive situation on the MSV Ontario. Hackett had ordered them to incept and rescue the Chairman of the Parliamentary Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies.

In layman’s terms, Chairman Burns had been kidnapped by L2’s who were angered by his refusal to acknowledge their suffering. They were right to be angry. Burns was wrong to dismiss their claims over the problems the L2 implants caused. The way it had all gone down was a hot mess and an example of why Reese hated politics.

The two biotics sat in silence as the picked at the ice cream unlike the previous time they had engaged in such nocturnal activities. That time had involved Shepard giving her the choice to live up to the potential Anderson and Alenko thought she had or to leave the Normandy. She had chosen to stay after Alenko pointed out she was selling herself short and not everything had to be governed by biotics.

Now the actions of a man who was supposed to represent the needs of biotics, especially L2’s, and  that same group of L2’s made her truly wonder if biotics would ever be accepted by humanity at large. She hadn’t been a biotic as a kid, being a second exposure. Her abilities manifested during her teenage years unlike Alenko. His abilities had surfaced during childhood. Either way, both were considered first generation biotics and faced the stigma of such a label.

“This isn’t helping is it?” the Canadian Marine asked from across the table, interrupting her thoughts.

Grey eyes glanced up from her barely touched ice cream. She shook her head. “Not this time.”

Kaidan set his spoon down as he pursed his lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Reese arched an eyebrow. Talking about her biotics had never been a thing for her before. She had never shared anything about it with anyone other than her grandmother. Talking to another biotic about it was just as foreign. “I…I don’t know…”

He snorted. “You can talk my ear off about tech all day long, but you can’t tell me what’s really bothering you.”

“No.” Her answer was simple not meant to be smart or defensive. She shrugged. “I just don’t know how to talk about it…I don’t understand it.”

“Understand what?” Kaidan asked as he shifted in his seat, the bowl of ice cream forgotten.

Reese took a breath. “What just happened on the Ontario. A guy who is supposed to represent those who are suffering or have suffered because of an unperfected device that was supposed to help make their quality of life better. The L2 implant for all its faults was supposed to help biotics. And it does but not…not to its fullest potential. You know that. L2’s suffer one way or another. Those who did everything but make it a law that you had to be implanted should take responsibility. L2s, biotics. We are still human. Yet until that jackass Burns was held at gun point by those he was supposed to represent, he didn’t give two shits. It was like biotics, especially L2s, are not human or something. It’s cruel.”

“Reese, you’re an L3. You don’t have the same prejudice as L2s,” Kaidan said slowly.

She felt her temper flare as she stood up suddenly. “I’m a L3 with a fucked-up metabolism that can’t live without taking medicine and stabilizers to counteract that. Don’t you tell me I don’t know anything about the prejudices biotics face. Just because you’re a L2 doesn’t give you the monopoly on feeling like a freak! You know how cruel people can be—”

“Reese, that’s not how I meant it,” Kaidan said as he watched her begin to walk away.

The tech stopped at the steps to the sleeper pods but said nothing. In stead she clenched her jaw, focusing on the floor grating. Her arms came up as if to hug herself as Kaidan made his way slowly towards her. Thankfully, no one had heard her outburst and they were still alone.

He stood behind her by several inches thinking of what he could say. She was right. L2 or not, all biotics faced discrimination and prejudice. In some cases they were treated as second class citizens if they were even acknowledged to be human at all. He had experienced it all since childhood and had parents who had been prepared and supportive of him through all his struggles. She hadn’t had that. He often forgot that.

Kaidan took a breath. They had been chosen by Shepard to join the team that boarded the Ontario because they were biotics themselves. Granted in the end, it had helped gain the group’s trust and Burns had promised to reopen the reparations request. The plight of biotics was front page news again but so was the fact a bunch of L2s had taken a government official hostage. Nothing was ever simple…

“Reese, I…I know that you have had a rough time with your biotics in ways I probably won’t ever truly understand. I at least knew about them from the time I was a kid. I know that I might get them, and I had parents who helped with that,” Kaidan began slowly, wondering if his words were going to make things better or worse. He’d take the chance regardless. “I know that you didn’t have that luxury and your abilities manifested with tragedy attached. Your experience is uniquely yours. I can’t know everything you’ve been through, but I can tell you that I know what it’s like to be treated differently.”

He watched as she shifted in front of him but still didn’t look at him. He went on. “Humans unfortunately are cruel by nature in regard to things they don’t understand. When things scare them. And biotics fall under that category. But I also know that humans have a remarkable capacity for understanding, for compassion, and for adapting if they are given a reason to believe…I made a promise to myself a long time ago to give them that reason. To show them that they have no reason to fear biotics.”

“But what if I’m afraid of them? What if I’m afraid because of those extremists, we’ll all be labeled that now?” she asked softly, slowly turning to look at him.

“Reese, you—we can show them that resorting to extreme action isn’t the way…You and I didn’t get to were we are engaging in actions like that,” he said. A grin spread across his face. “Well, only one of us has a history of insubordination and it isn’t me.”

She made face. “I didn’t take a government official hostage and I’d take a reduction in rank again if it resulted in the getting the job done and saving lives.”

Kaidan chuckled as her expression turned serious. “What?”

“I was just wondering who the bad guy was on that last mission…It wasn’t clear cut…”

“No. It wasn’t. Both parties had their reasons and acted out without really thinking it through…It’s complicated. I’ll admit that,” Kaidan replied as he sighed. “I know that I’m glad Shepard was there. Someone else might now have handled it as well…I just wonder if I weren’t as lucky as I am if I…”

“Don’t do that. I have played the ‘what if’ game too many times. It never ends well,” Reese cautioned as she glanced at the mess hall table. Their bowls still there, their ice cream melting. “Just because others are cruel doesn’t mean we have to be.”

He glanced at her. “Reese, about earlier…I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t appreciate what it is to be an L3…”

“I know. I just—I haven’t ever really talked about my biotics with anyone before,” she said as she motioned back to the table. “But talking with you…about anything just seems…easy.”

Kaidan felt himself grin as he watched her pull her bowl of ice cream to the side of the table he had been sitting on. She sat down next to his bowl, beginning to eat the now soupy ice cream. He joined her as he realized he felt the same way. No matter what cruelty the galaxy threw at them because of their biotics, having another to talk to made things easier. Talking to her made things easier.

“Maybe we should sneak out for ice cream more often,” he suggested half-jokingly, half serious.

“Maybe we should,” she replied meeting his gaze with a grin.

Yes, Kaidan thought. Talking to Reese would always make things easier.

[keeptappingkeeptapping-blog]

Capacity

Try this.

Thank you.

I have it every day.

I like it. 

Today’s not that great. I mean, it’s still good.

Yes.

What with the ingredients, proportions, intentions… it can be a lot.

Unpredictable interactions?

You can only get so close. it’s an adventure.

It’s a little chalky.

That’s just texture. You get used to it.

I like it. 

It’s OK.

Kinda soupy.

Chalky, soupy… did you pick up the rind?

No.

At first it’s sweet, but sometimes it gets a bit briney if it sits too long.

Eww. Should I be concerned?

Who’s to say? I wouldn’t worry about it. A label only goes so far.

Well, you still kinda want to know...

You only need to control expectations.

That’s what I mean.

Do you have uncontrolled expectations?

No. 

Good.

So, is all this just a walking around kind of thinking?

Pretty much. Gets you through the day but doesn't necessarily get you where you want to go.

Or anywhere, really.

How could you tell?

Sometimes It’s obvious.

Lately I’ve becomes sensitive to things like this because of this wart I have on my left wrist.

A wart? 

I’ve had it a long time, all my life I think. I never used to think about it, it doesn’t hurt, no one else knows about it and who cares if they did.

Well, you’re telling me about it.

Yes, but here’s why. Over the last three or four months, it started to change. It had been more or less skin colored and not that pronounced. Now it’s hard, crusty, and kind of off-white. Take a look.

That thing? Looks like a pencil eraser.

I know. You see the red ring around the base?

Or a dead piece of coral.

The wart started changing about the same time I was thinking what kind of tattoo I would get if I were younger.

Not sure there’s a causal relationship there.

I’m too old for that now, would be ridiculous for an old person to get a tattoo, I mean the sad desperation in even thinking about it.

It’s not that sad. You see so many beautiful ones. Some of them are striking.

Which one would I get if I were 18 or 20 something, even 30 something?

We’d all make different choices if we could go back. That’s nothing new. Still don’t see a briney rind/tattoo/wart connection. Is it just kind of a backwards/forwards kind of thing with you?

That’s the point. Everything’s connected. But in that ongoing, not new/all new/all connected briney rindy mass, the only way to gain a perspective is to focus on something that seems to stand out.

Like a tattoo.

Or a wart.

OK.

Now you get it. The wart IS a tattoo. It’s better than a tattoo.  Tattoos are all about choices. Size, color, location…

Design… Volition…

Coding…Differentiation...

Public… Private…

But with a wart, with my wart, I didn’t choose anything; it chose me.

You sure about that?

Seems that way. It grew right out of my very being. There was no conscious desire on my part. It raised itself up and out of my left wrist where I can’t help but take stock of it.

You might be overthinking this.

Maybe. But when it started to change, I started to change too.

Sometimes a briney rind is OK.

You don’t always want a recipe. You can experiment with any number of things.

Absolutely.

I know what I like. So when the wart changed, or more precisely, when I first noticed it was different…

Like changing colors?

Yes, and getting kind of scaly. It seems like it all happened at about the same time, except for the red ring.

Look at that.

I know. Maybe it was the ring that really made me think about this.

Like time to see a doctor?

No, it’s fine. Can’t you see? It looks like a target or something.

I bet you could just take a knife…

Why? It doesn’t hurt.

You could buy some kind of solvent or something.

Who would do such a thing? Would you?

I’m not the one with the wart.

What would that kind of destruction look like? I’m telling you it doesn’t hurt, I’m fine. Why not look for the positive?

It’s a wart.

Yes. It’s a wart. It’s also a lens.

A lens.

Yes, if you choose to see it that way.

I thought you said you liked it because you didn’t have to choose.

No, that’s different. Listen, doctors and other clever people look at a wart, they see a wart.

Because… it IS a wart.

I know! And it’s mine, so how can I not have a different perspective?

Oh. So a wart on someone else is a wart. But on you, it’s a lens.

You are missing the point. It’s a unique signifier protruding directly out of my very being, and now that’s it’s white and rocky and has a bloody red ring around it I can’t help but notice.

That’s true.

Remember it’s been there forever already, but because it blended in with the rest of my arm, which looked more or less like everyone else’s arm, it was ignored, barely there ...

We certainly hadn’t discussed it previously…

Right! It was insignificant… We are getting sidetracked. There must be a use for this thing. Maybe not a reason, but a use..  

No, now that’s wrong. There’s a reason for your skin condition, but no use. Just go to a doctor. You’ll see.

Explanations are always dependent on framing, you know that.

Well…

Existence is independent of explanation.

So your wart, your lens, is inexplicable?

Who cares about that? It clearly exists, it’s screaming for attention…

Your wart screams?

It’s changing texture, color, it’s got a red ring around it. Its existence is not in question. Think about usage. That’s wholly different.

OK.

Who says it’s just a wart, anyway? It could be some kind of eye, and if it were, or I could understand it to be an eye, it would have seen EVERYTHING I EVER DID. Remember I had this thing all my life, but I just noticed it now. Why?

If only it could talk.

Now you’re getting it! If my wart could also be an eye, why can’t it be a mouth?

A mouth.

Look, I know it’s a wart.

Yes. It is.

It is also a distinct focal point.

Anything can be a distinct focal point.

That’s right! Anything and everything, but THIS thing grew right out of me!

So does your hair. Your breath.

Exactly! But unlike hair and breath, my wart is singular.

Can you imagine dealing with more than one?

But that’s the point. There’s ONLY one, it’s right there. It’s always been there. But now, it’s looking at me.

It’s a wart.

And it’s saying something.

Yes. It’s saying GO TO THE DOCTOR.

Your obstanancy with all this is stunning.

Oh OK. Your rhapsodizing about your wart is genius; my inability to share your vision is stunning.

And tragic. We are all so alone.

No, I am right here. I just don’t see your wart as a lens, or an eye, or a mouth…

Or a portal.

It’s a portal now?

It might be. It depends. I’m just starting to understand its potential.

It seems limitless.

But you have to start somewhere.

Fine.

So it’s an eye, watching me; what I do, where I am, who I’m with…

Hello.

And it’s processing all the information of the current moment through the lens of my entire life, because remember, it’s been there forever.

Yes, but so’s your brain. Most people just use that.

But most people don’t have a wart like this! I have a wart AND a brain!

OK. Maybe I should grow a wart.

You really should, but it’s not up to you. It’s an unconscious development.

For you maybe. But for me, it could be a triumph of the will.

It’ll at least be a struggle.

Well, I’m not enthralled.

I am, but remember I’m focusing on the use.

Right.

So it’s both a focal point and an observer, right? I can’t hide from it, and I don’t want to.

It is right there.

OK, so I'm watching it watch me, and it sees all. Yet I have questions.

Me too.

I need to know if it’s objective, independent, or…

Well it can’t be truly independent. It’s part of you, grew right out of you. That’s at least a conflict of interest.

You’d think so, but I’m not sure. You can’t tell by just thinking about it.

That’s true.

You have to listen.

Listen to what?

To the wart, of course.

Oh right, the eye wart that is also a mouth.

That’s it. You have to listen attentively.

I bet.

You really do. Because it has its own language.

It does?

I think so.

How do you know you’re not listening to yourself make up a lot of nonsense?

It’s possible, except I never thought like this before.

Before?

Before the wart.

But you said you always had the wart.

I have. But I just started to pay attention to it.

Maybe you’re just growing as a person. The wart may have nothing to do with it.

Haven’t you been listening? I am seeing all this for the first time BECAUSE of the wart.

You know what I think?

What?

I don’t think you have the wart. I think the wart has you.

We are very close.

Yes. It’s growing out of your wrist.

Right. We are going around and around here.

No, we’re getting somewhere. Let’s think about tattoos again.

OK.

You think the wart is better than a tattoo because you did not choose it; it chose you, right?

It’s an important distinction.

Agreed. But intention matters either way, right? You’re either the driver or the passenger.

Maybe.

The tattoo and the tattooed person are not the same thing.

That’s debatable. The tattoo is useless without a person on whom it is displayed. A tattoo is just a design, an idea, a picture in the parlor’s sales catalog until it’s inked onto flesh. Then it’s a tattoo. And once a person is tattooed, they are one thing.

Depends.

Identity is a function of context and intention.

And boundaries. 

And perspective. That’s where the wart offers utility.

Whatever.

No, not whatever. Listen, just because the wart grew out of me doesn't mean it can’t function as an independent observer.

Well…

My identity, my boundaries, my perspectives, my agency all develop due to that independent observation!

Through your talking wart.  

Yes. Until I understand its language, who knows? Again, why not see where it all goes before passing judgment?

OK.

Of course the language could be nonverbal. Tied into my nervous system and all.

Just what you need. More internal dialogue.

It’s both inside and outside. See the value?

I see a wart.

I see more. And another thing. Just because It’s independent doesn't mean it doesn't have an agenda.

An agenda.

I think so.

Are you on the same side?

We’re very close.

I have to go.

OK. See you next week.

***next week***

You want a muffin?

Sure. I like muffins.

These are really good.

Yes - what did you use?

Not sure. I found some berries that smelled about right, and then just made muffins. I don’t know what they were, but I loved the smell. Very summertime.

Kind of risky.

Low stakes. Just muffins.

You shared them without knowing what was in them?

And you accepted. So it all worked out.

Well...

I was right last time too.

I could have been allergic.

You are no longer hungry.

What else were you right about?

My wart.

Right.

It does have an agenda. But It’s benevolent.

OK.

At least I think so. We are streamlining communications.

How does that work?

I’m listening. It’s more telepathic than anything else.

Interesting.

Crazy.

Really?

No, I mean the thing has a memory, apparently photographic. I’ve evidently missed a tremendous amount of my own life.

Go on.

It seems to be able to replay every moment of my existence utilizing optimizable filtering dynamics.

Wait.

What?

What does that mean?

I think in spreadsheets but it thinks in images.

Your wart. 

Through my wart.

I do not understand you right now.

OK, so this morning, I started to see a progression of complete strangers in my mind, but from weird angles. 

Oh. The angles were weird.

Thousands of people.

Wow.

Yes, it went on for some time. Everyone moving around, sometimes I could only see people from the back or the side, sometimes the faces were crystal clear, but each one was closer to me physically than you are right now.

But I’m right here.

Yes! It took me several minutes to understand…

Understand?

My wart was showing me everyone I had ever been next to but never spoke to.

What.

Yes, like people in the subway, or on a bus, or in an elevator…

Or on line at a store?

Yes.

And the wart is doing this?

Well from the angle, it looks that way.

So these are people that you’ve completely forgotten, and your wart has always remembered?

It’s more like these are people I never paid any attention to, so I hadn't forgotten them…

OK.

And the wart just recorded them all. I don’t know if it’s actually conscious of anything.

But…

You have to remember, this is a wart we’re talking about.

I have to remember that?

I have a better understanding now.

Right.

What does that mean?

Well, I don’t doubt you’ve had visions.

They aren’t visions. They’re recorded events.

Recorded events then, fine. I just don’t see the wart connection.

Wow. What are you not getting? This kind of thing NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE THE WART.

It also never happened before this morning.

It’s communicating with me through my nervous system.

Maybe you are tapping into something within yourself, and you just think it’s the wart.

It’s really more of a portal.

No. It’s still a wart. You have become fixated. 

Wouldn’t you be fixated if you had a wart portal like this? 

And through all that concentration, you’ve unlocked inner energies that you attribute to the wart. 

Well, from the outside, I can see how you would think that. 

You can? 

Sure. 

Do you think I’m right?

Not a chance. 

Oh.

It’s must be so hard to be on the outside of it all. 

I can’t imagine being on the inside.  

I’m terribly grateful about it, actually. 

You really may need to take a step back.

It’s so interesting. 

Yes. Kind of nuts though.

No it isn’t. Here’s what’s nuts. Every one of those thousands of people I stood next to on the train, on the street, whatever, we pass in and out of each other’s lives, more getting in each other’s way than anything else.

OK.

But here’s the thing.

Yes?

Some of them have warts too.

Of course they do. Warts are very common. 

No. I mean WARTS. Like my wart.

What. Wait…

Yes.

So you are now in wart-communion with someone you took an elevator with 25 years ago?

Who knows? The original links can be traced, but it’s the future that’s important. 

I don’t understand.

I know, I don’t either. 

And yet…

There’s clearly some kind of cross temporal pan-personal resonance at work.

There is?

And for me, the portal is my eye-wart. 

For others?

Who can say? The connection is only marginally physical. Like an echo down an endless hall of doors, we know there are openings and closings, comings and goings, but we can’t focus on all that. The physicality is at most a menu.

A menu?

The menu is not the feast.

All right hold on. I’m lost. You’re in communication with others now, right?

Most definitely.

Other people you believe you were at one time very close to physically, such as on a crowded bus, but you never spoke to?    

The matches are definitive. 

Says who?

It’s obvious to us. 

Through the wart. 

For me, yes, through my wart. For others, their portal is different.

Like what?

It doesn't have to be a wart.

Good.

Look, if you suddenly found yourself in the doorway of a fantastic mansion, with calm and love and cooling energies everywhere, full of beings with whom you intuitively and completely shared a deep and trusting bond, you would just use the door and go in. The door itself would hold marginal interest.

But considerable utility.

Now you’re getting it.

I’ve never had that experience.

Neither had I! Not until this week. All I’m saying, in answer to your question, is for me, the door, if you will, is my wart. For this one woman I just met, Dwing Hsi, her portal is some kind of anomaly on her back.

Dwing Hsi?

She was wearing a work ID when I stood next to her on a subway once. The details are coded in the metadata.

I’m sorry?

Why do you have to think about that minutiae? Her ID badge, her name, that is not important. The connection is important. We instantly recognized each other and couldn’t stop laughing.

You don’t know her. 

We share a portal. We know much more than each other. We don’t understand it individually, at least I don’t, but together we do. We are all much more than this person/that person being here/being there.

It’s a big world. 

And we’re all together, yet all alone, all at the same time. 

It’s all chance.

What is?

Who you connect with, and who you don’t. 

No, no, no. This is not Missed Connections. It’s not just that things could have been different. Things really ARE different!

It’s certainly not all self-directed. 

Which self are you talking about? 

Me. You. Dwing Hsi. All of us. 

But that’s what I’m telling you. It’s not really like that. 

What, and who, you pay attention to really matters. But you can’t pay attention to everything. It’s random.

No. It’s capacity. 

It’s a big world.

You said that.

It’s true. 

Yes. And we record it all. That’s what I’m saying.

Wait. What? Really?

Seems to be. Look, that’s what’s happened to me, and I’m nothing special. 

Don’t say that.

Neither is Dwing. She’s really smart but..

I’m sure.

Very accomplished. Overcame a lot.

You’re saying we can all do this?

I’m saying we all do this whether we know it or not.

How could we not know it?

Those who know it, know it. Those who don’t, don’t. You need a portal. 

Not necessarily a wart though.

No, but my wart worked for me. I recommend them.

Not intuitive.

Until it is.

I don’t know. Sounds distracting.

Distracting? From what? Muffin world? You bet.

I have to go.

OK. 

See you next week.

***next week***

I have a fresh salad today. Would you like some?

OK.

Simple greens and these wonderful tomatoes.

Lovely.

I don’t believe in dressing when you have beautiful components like this.

That’s fine.

I agree. Some of my favorite flavors are very subtle.

It’s all what you’re used to.

Maybe. You need to get past that though.

It’s very personal.

You have to get past that too.

I suppose. 

No, definitely. You have to be open to new experiences.

That’s very true. 

I knew a man once. He salted his cereal. 

Really?

Yes. Corn Flakes. He put salt on his Corn Flakes.

That’s a new experience.

Not to him, that’s the point. Everything had to be salty or he couldn’t taste it.

Oh I see.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like it without salt. He literally couldn’t taste anything unless he dumped all this salt on it.

Wow.

Yes. Corn Flakes, apples, cheese…

Most cheese already has a lot of salt.

I know, right?

These greens are tasty just as is.

He was my father. 

Who?

The salt guy.

Oh.

Had to take all this high blood pressure medication, but he didn’t care. Salt the grapes, salt everything.

Hard to watch?

I got past it. It didn’t mark me or anything,

That’s good. 

He’s dead now.

I’m sorry.

I mean, you’d have to be pretty fragile to let that kind of thing get to you.

Yes and no. Sometimes it’s little stuff like that…

What the hell do I care if he salts his donuts? I don’t have to do it.

I suppose.

The thing was, he thought everyone else was crazy for not doing it.

Interesting.

Not really.

No.

I mean, these greens here. Really good, right?

Absolutely. I just said so.

I know. But when you eat something like that, without dressing or tons of salt, just straight out of the ground and you concentrate on the taste, it’s like your tongue is listening, not just tasting.  

I see that. 

Exactly! And then when you start to appreciate all the subtlety, you describe parts of the taste in visual terms: this is a bright taste, that one is darker. I mean these greens really taste bright green, right? What else could you call that?

I don’t know. Maybe a little sweet.

OK but a lollipop is sweet. 

You’re right. It’s a language thing.

It becomes a language thing. But it starts off as a perception thing.

Language is imperfect.

We make a lot of assumptions.

Absolutely.

We describe one experience in terms of others.

We do the best we can. You always have to qualify.

Maybe. I’m experimenting with a lot with equations now. Functions, limits, rules – all numbers and symbols, very few words. 

Does that work?

When it does, it’s the best.  

Very powerful.

There’s nothing like a good equals sign.

It verges on poetry if you wander off. 

That’s not good. A lot of poems are garbage.

Sometimes they have to ripen.

I saw him the other day.

Who? 

My father. The salt junkie.

Your dead father?

Yes. Via the portal.

What.

The wart, remember?

Wait. I thought you said you only saw people you stood next to but never spoke to.

I don’t just see them. We bond and don’t let go. They’re with me now.

OK.

I’m for real on that.

I’m confused.

That’s OK.

Thanks. So what happened with your dad?

He was standing behind Honoré Gustavinson, this other man Dwing and I am now bonded with. He lived a block or two away from us when I was a kid. My dad evidently never spoke to him either. That’s why he was there.

Must have been weird. 

Gustavinson is quite interesting. Some kind of scientist. We used to go to the same drugstore. We recognized each other right away. He lit right up.

Where’s his portal?

Along his lower gum line. Some dentist butchered him. He showed me the scar. 

Horrible.

He thinks it was pretty good trade-off now. He made a lot of notes while we were together. 

What about your dad?

Yes, that was strange. He was only there briefly. We all saw him and reached out, but none of us bonded with him.

Sounds just as well. 

Maybe next time.

Your wart.

Yes?

It looks bigger.

Does it?

Yes, definitely. 

Well, I have been using it day and night. Maybe it’s like a muscle, and I’m building it up.

It’s more like a golf ball now than a pencil eraser.

I guess you’re right. I hadn’t noticed. I told you the physicality of all this is hardly the issue.

You should get that looked at. 

You’re looking at it now.

By a doctor. It’s turning a little green.

You know what I think?

Hardly ever.

I think you want a portal.

A wart?

Yes.

I don’t want a wart.

Warts work really well.

I know enough people.

You do not understand.

Clearly.

We’re conditioned to fear what we don’t understand.

For good reason, a lot of the time.

For no reason, most of the time.

Well I’m not scared now. 

Really? 

Do you think I am?

Yes.

Should I be?

No.

That’s good.

Well, maybe a little. 

Why?

Because you’d rather not understand. You are not that open to new experiences.

That was about eating greens without dressing. 

We were also discussing the limits of language. 

Point taken.

And missed.

I have to go.

Visible light is only a tiny fraction of the entire electromagnetic radiation spectrum.

Yes. And higher wavelengths will kill you.

Everyone knows there’s much more going on.

See you next week?

Remember. Nothing is ever lost. You just need a portal.

I don’t want a bloody wart, spinal anomaly or destroyed gumline.

Trade-offs.

I’ll say.

It’s sharing existence while still retaining your you-ness.

Your you-ness? 

Well, after awhile identity becomes a bit more mathematical. 

OK.

I can understand your concern, being on the outside.

See you next week.

***next week***

Ice water. That’s all I can drink now. 

So good.

I still enjoy coffee.

Essential.

But that’s not really drinking.

Not like ice water.

That’s the point. Not at all.

I mean you don’t drink coffee because you’re thirsty.

Completely different paradigm.

Same mechanism though. 

You’ve been thinking.

Yes, I have. I think I want a wart after all. 

Who wouldn't?

I mean a portal.

I understand.

Life’s too short.

Maybe.

I mean that whole being open to new experiences thing.

Well you know...

What?

Not all new experiences are pleasant, or even positive.

That’s not the point.

Sure isn’t.

But still….

Yes?

We need an objective.

We do?

Scaffolding at least.

Temporary at best.

You said you have to start somewhere.

You don't think you started yet?

I mean with the portal.

Be patient.

OK.

Would you like more ice water?

No thanks.

So Dwing is a horse now.

Excuse me? 

It’s true. She’s a beauty.

Are you still bonded?

Of course. Bonds are not species restricted.

Must have been a shock. 

Not as much as you’d think. Turns out portals have portals.

Is that how it works?

Evidently. It’s pretty fluid.

I guess.

I think she’s a Friesian, so graceful. Beautiful eyes, that's how I recognized her. You still want one?

I like horses.

No, a portal. Don’t be stupid.

But...

I keep telling you the physicality is not that important.

I know.

No, you don’t. Warts, horses, don't get hung up on all that.

OK. I just hadn’t expected Dwing to be a horse now.

I understand. Portals are a trip.

Seems like.

You’ll see.

What’s Gustavinson’s reaction to Dwing being a… what kind of horse is she again?

Friesian.

Right, one of them. Sounds like a mode.

Funny you say that.

Why’s that?

I’m not sure of course. She looks like a Friesian. It would be rude to ask. Kind of your sort of question. 

Speaking of rude.

Sorry.

It’s OK.

So back to your comment. Honoré is a little hard to read now that he’s a piano.

A piano.

Baby grand. He’s ecstatic. 

A piano is an inanimate object.

And?

How can Gustavinson be a piano?

A piano is an intensely intimate instrument.

Not until someone plays it. 

Incorrect.

You play a piano. You don't become a piano.

No, YOU don’t become a piano. Gustavinson does..

I’m having trouble with this.

I understand. To be fair, it took me by surprise as well.

That’s a relief. 

It’s a limitation. I have mine, you have yours.  We have to work through them.

It’s more than that. 

Dwing got there first. 

How is this even possible?

Perfectly reasonable. She loves music. 

No, no. I mean this whole porting business.

We do make a lot of assumptions. 

Of course. 

We think today is pretty much going to be like yesterday. 

Yes.

And that we’re pretty much going to be the same tomorrow as we are today. 

But we still change. We learn and grow, we forget and decay….

Yet you just said Gustavinson can’t be a piano?

That’s different! 

That’s the point.

I’m not sure I want a portal after all.

Exactly. 

What do you mean?

First you don’t want a portal; then you do; now you don’t.

Not the same thing.

Clearly. And yet, consistent. You are getting there.

No. Really?

Of course. The thing is, we all have portals, we’re all getting there, whether we realize it or not. 

But control? Intention? Driver vs. passenger?

Remember, you need patience. 

Who does?

Everyone. And attention.

Right.

It will take much longer to find your portal if you won’t even look for it.

Maybe.

Definitely.

Your wart is really big now.

Does it make you uncomfortable?

I can hardly see your wrist now.

I can hardly feel it now.

I have to go. 

Next week? 

Next week. 

***next week***

I brought you something this time.

Very thoughtful. Smells wonderful.

How do take it?

Black, thank you.

Me too.

I used to add milk.

So did I. And sugar.

Really good, just like this.

Agreed.

I have ice water as well.

That will be perfect later.

Yes.

Yes.

So. 

Yes?

Where is it?

You will never guess.

OK.

It’s my old tattoo.

Ha! 

It’s behind my right elbow. I got it so many years ago, I don’t think about it. 

I never noticed. Let’s see it.

Right there.

Look at that.

Just a little green circle.

Like a wart.

Or a target. I chose it so long ago.

And you choose a place where you can’t easily see it.

Right. I can’t see it without a mirror… I don’t know what I was thinking. 

I do. You don't need to see it.

Not anymore.

There it is.

Yes.  So. You know those greens we had...

Don’t even. I saw you.

Really?

Gustavinson saw you first, but it’s pretty much the same thing.

I never considered being a color before.

Portals. You just never know.

Except you really do.

The you-ness adapts. 

So you know what’s inside colors?

More color?

Yes, but ultimately it’s all numbers.

I knew it!

At least I think so. Wavelengths…

Angles of refraction...

Values… saturation...

Probably why Gustavinson saw you first.

Such a nerd.

He’s a remarkable individual. We take the package.

So why didn't I see you?

There’s a lot to look at.

You’re telling me. 

You saw something else?

Your dead father. 

Really?

Yes. 

I wonder why. You were never physically close to him.

My portal doesn't work like yours.

Well that makes sense. I can only bond with a tiny fraction of the people I see.

The physicality is even a smaller thing for me than you said it was.

The door is not the mansion. So what’s the dynamic?

All color for me. Specifically green.

Like equals sign green?

Seems like.

What a powerful connection.

So much variation. Emerald is not Chartreuse.

Or Jade.

Or Sage.

Plus so many contexts.

Birds.

Plants.

Food.

Don’t forget eyes.

There’s only so much you can understand from the outside.

How did you know he was my father? 

Pretty obvious. 

Where is he?

We could pull out any random digitizer.

And possibly be right.

But probably be wrong.

How did he look?

Calm, mostly. Not that focused. 

Well, he is dead.

Not finished though.

No.

He sees you too. The portals don’t eliminate you-ness.

We dissolve.

But we don’t disappear.

Silly to hold on to stuff that’s not even yours.

Right. Like even from the depth of that endless green, I know there’s blue that way, yellow the other.

So staying still...

On the edges...

Impossible?

Inevitable?

Might be close.

You said we have to move past all that.

Not so sure now.

Wait. You’re no horse, no piano. What...

I told you. There’s nothing like a good equals sign.

Wow. Really?

I need a rock.

Sounds so limiting.

Quite the opposite.

I’m going to try the blue edge first.

While you’re still green, can you say hello to my dad for me?

I’ll try. Not sure I can bond with him though.

Oh I know. He’s not easy.

Green is good for him.

I hope.

Next week?

Not sure.

I know.

Why don’t we just see what happens?