Yes, I know I'm late in ringing it in with my fellow blog followers and people who are so kind as to read this humble part of my life. So let me say, Happy New Year and Feast of the Epiphany (for those who celebrate it on January 6). Let me make it up to you with a little story right off the top of my head.
The assistant shook her head and closes the door, leaving the scientist's nameplate and his idea of thought-provoking office decor behind. She approached the lab table and the white-robed shape with a perpetual bent to his back. Her nose wrinkled at the bright blue flash and the odor of burnt metal wire.
Solder on, mighty soldier. For your country needs you...
The assistant took a seat at another table, pulling out the romance novel from her jacket as her mentor worried away at his latest invention, something to do with human sound frequency. The assistant opened the novel to the dog-eared page of where she had left off in the story: the love triangle heating up between the virgin Duchess, her lowly chimney sweeper lover, and the pompous Baron high off his status as he stalks his love with false righteousness.
Duchess: I've never meet a man who could fill my heaving bosom with the fruits of passion.
Chimney sweeper: Sweet lady, I am but a lowly man. All that I own is the sweeping brush. All I am given is this mere six-pence and perhaps a spare end piece of three-day old bread. These things are my life, and I thought my life was content. Yet I've found something that I've never thought I could be given, or was within my status to have. Your love has left me wanting more, more than just sweeping out chimneys and eating stale bread...
Duchess: Hush! Did you hear a crackling from the nearby mulberry bush? I think the Baron has followed us to our secret meeting place.
Chimney sweeper: He is a man full of his own pride, his own ego, and his own justice. His mind is gone, obsessed for that which he cannot have by force. He wants you, my lady, and shall pursue you until that obsession is sated.
Duchess: But his obsession's gratification may not be what he desires. Quickly, my love. I see the glint of metal flashing in the foliage. Unlace the top straps of my bodice piece. There you will find the small dagger. Sate the Baron on what his obsession has led to...
"Ah, I think I have it now. Come over here, Lizzy."
The assistant sighed and dog-eared the new page as the book slipped into her lab jacket. Elizabeth strolled to the scientist's table, studying the wire-y mess of transistors and circuit boards. The contraption looked like a ninth-grade science project that might erupt lava, or more than likely just erupt completely into oblivion, at the clicking of the switch.
"And this is suppose to be the next big invention of the century?" Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up, seeking to migrate into her sandy blond hair.
"It is the next big invention of..." the scientist looked down at his watch "... April 5 of 2007 at 11:34 am. Whatever will be the next big invention of April 5, 2007 at 11:35, we will have to wait and see."
Elizabeth sighed, "And what, oh great mentor seeking his sixty seconds of fame, is this going to do to help humanity?"
The scientist spread out his hands above the invention as if bestowing good graces upon the machinery lightly humming. "This will save people's lives. Can you imagine a soldier out in the field, needing specific orders relayed to him about an ambush seen over the next ridge by a helicopter pilot, but the pilot unable to communicate with him by normal means? Can you imagine a way to tune into that particular soldier's hearing, his "signature frequency" that is unique only to him? Can you imagine sending out a warning that only his ears can pick up and his mind perceive? Can you imagine the implications?"
"I imagine some pervert having fun sending out dirty messages to unsuspecting women and believing he can get away with it." Elizabeth snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Come now, Lizzy. Think of the greater good. Men in distress contacting medical aid while in battle without giving away their position. Soldiers cut off from the rest of their battalion could arrange rendezvous coordinates while avoiding hostile forces."
"We work in the secret weapon's branch of the State's military department. 'Greater good' and 'military weaponry' means someone at one end of the tool is going to come to a messy end. Why invent something with the potential to hurt someone? Can you imagine, doctor, a convict getting away with killing everybody in a McDonald's by claiming someone else was manipulating him to do so through sound frequency? It gives new meaning to 'the voices in my head made me do it' in every court plea."
The doctor sighed. He swiveled his lab seat and pointed at his door. "Lizzy, you've read the plaque on my door, the one under my name. 'There's no new idea or new invention that hasn't been thought of before.' I've thought of this invention, but I won't allow my ego to believe that nobody else is smart enough to come up with the same invention. And what if that someone was an enemy to our country? I work for the military where my inventions can be used out in the field. Yes, I realize it could lead to hurting them also. But I have to keep holding on to that sliver of hope that my invention will save soldier's lives during combat."
"I only know that use of something can lead to misuse." Elizabeth stared at the soldering tool. It still smelled of burnt wire in the air. "Just because a person is smart enough to invent something doesn't mean they are not dumb enough to use it for a deadly purpose."
"There is nothing new under the sun," the doctor shook his head...
Michelle Thompkin's Diary
Journal entry 12: May 2010;
I would say this was an ordinary day that was part of an ordinary life. I would say my existence wasn't very significant to either myself or to other people. But I don't believe that is the case anymore. I've been hearing things, voices in my head. I want to think I was imagining them.
But I can't think that anymore.
I suppose if I told other people they would just roll their eyes and snort or give me funny looks like I was out of my mind. I can only imagine what a shrink would think if I told him the voices were harassing me in every way imaginable in my life.
Yeah, the shrink would think I've gone crazy.
But I know the voices are real. I know because they are familiar to me, familiar to the point where I've actually met the people beforehand. And the voices are the same to those people. There is also one little thing that brings me back from having everyone, including myself, into believing that I might be taking a headlong dive over the cliff of insanity.
Other people have heard the voices too.
But let's start from the beginning, when the Starbucks barista was filling up the napkin container as I sat in the lounge chair, sipping on a vanilla cafe mocha, as the voice called out, "BITCH!"
Nobody in the cafe turned their heads to look around at the offender to our coffee-sipping silence. Nobody except me and the barista, who frowned and stared about until our eyes momentarily locked. Then the woman scooted behind the counter and disappeared into the back of the store.
She couldn't blame me for calling out the derogatory word. The service I received was fine. Besides, the shouting voice had belong to a man and only one man was in the store. He was asleep in the chair next to mine.
to be continued...
ear photo from here