Psyche: An Introduction

Hello folks! I'm just showing off my writing skills. Do tell me what you think of the idea. Now I don't know what it is. And plus not all of it is in compilation. But here's what I can provide. I have been forming this idea for some time. Waiting it to be big. For more on the same, check out my post, Smoke: A chapter preview. It's pretty much part of a same. Apart from The Writer, it's another one of the narratives of my alter egos. Hope you enjoy it.

She took two steps back. It was the familiar pain. The usual peanut butter textures. After all, it was an intelligible thought to not stop for water… But she had an excuse. Training one to be self sustainable wasn’t easy. As long as it was possible, it won’t stop her from trying. We are caught in a time which is the doom. The earth is paved with the remains of once silicon kingdom. Human race degraded its intellect much before than it was supposed to. Why was she left out? She loved to indulge in this stream of consciousness while doing her usual rounds.


“Hello, what do we have here?” she stopped at a sign, of a usual diner.

Her stomach made that peculiar sound again. “Okay, okay. Be quiet. I’m going,” she spake to herself in a manner as one would to a nagging persistence. She went in a diner. The diners of this era are pretty much of the diners as known in the twentieth and early twenty first century. Except for the services are robotic. Under the new law, only robots can be in service lines. Humans only do programming. The law was aimed to stop the corruption of robots and also to avoid the imperfection of human kind. But there wasn’t any law for the hooligans to stop behaving stupidly. How she hated life.

This one robot was primitive. A head which was pretty much like the television sets of the earliest kind, bearing a photo of someone she read about… a certain Martin Luther King Jr. What she could infer was that this robot was one of the recreation projects. She ordered a glass of water and a loaf of bread, gave a payment of a hundred scores, took a book from her bag and started reading it. A gentleman, with looks of a student, noticed the book.

“Excuse me, but what is this?” asked he.

“A book,” she replied without looking up. She wasn’t interested in conversations, especially not with strangers, especially when she was out on business.

“What is a book? Never have I seen one.”

“In earlier human times books were prominent. They were a means of transfer of knowledge, and things.”

“Such massive size… it must contain quite much!” he commented upon the length and breadth of it.

“On the contrary,” she smiled, forcing herself to a conversation, “just a little amount of what your reader can provide.”

“NO! Really?!” he spake in amazement.

“Evolution of information didn’t take place in a day,” she said. Finally, this conversation could close.

“Can I touch it?”

“Alright,” she said, handing over the book, adding, “be sure not to pull the pages or force them to fold. It’s very delicate.”

“Yes, I see,” he said, observing the mechanism of turning a page. “It’s strange. Didn’t they feel that sliding, or some such would be easier?”

“They did have scrolls back then… But they were too cumbersome. Books were easiest to carry.”

“What is this made of?”

“Trees,” she replied. The moment she replied, she could feel the pain of being plunged to another conversation. Now she’d have to explain what trees are.

“Trees… I have heard the word. It’s the first oxygen filter… Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, “they also had other uses.”

“Maybe that’s why they were cut down…” he could sense the stupidity of human race. “I’m Vincent Von Taylor,” he introduced himself to her.

“Psyche Von Fedora,” she replied telling her name.

And such is the streamline of thought. Waiting for criticism.

PEACE!

-Neetz

Pandora's Box and the Day "Hope" lived

"I read the fuck out of every book I can get my hands on"

is the quote written in a T-shirt walking ahead on me. In the nerd's paradise, and a bookaholic's dreamland, these T-shirts aren't so weird. In fact, as I see this T-shirt walks me by, I feel like buying one. Of course, in a different color. Anyway, I'm getting deviated from the point.

My point is not the least bit in regard with books, rather with Greeks. The Greek mythology. Who doesn't know the story of Prometheus? Yes, the one who stole fire from the Gods only to hand it over to the mortals? To those who don't know, the story is as follows:-

The Gods created the Iron Age of mortals, far less superior (completely incompetent and inferior, rather) so as to be superior from the humans in all forms. They (Gods) possessed the gift of fire (i.e. knowledge) and one of them was Titans, who was of the almost human shape. Far more intellectually superior and went by the name, Prometheus.

He stole the gift of fire from the Gods and handed it over to the mortals.

Zeus (the king of Gods), who was furious for such treachery, punished Prometheus by tying him to a rock and having a giant eagle eat out his liver which grew everyday only to be eaten. Another punishment to Prometheus was the creation of Pandora, the first woman. (In every cult, woman is symbolic of a sin to men).Pandora was made out of earth (i.e. Nature, symbolic of woman) and hence was given gifts (i.e. qualities a woman possesses). She was sent off to marry Prometheus' brother. On her way she took along her box which she was forbidden to open. But like the Eve from the Bible, curiosity got better of her and she opened her box leaving all the evils fly into the mortal world, however only hope remained inside.

I have been very hopeless off late. But as I read this story, I think I regain what I have lost. Why (a word favored science) does hope remain inside? I know now, so that there's a silent assurance, a wait, an illumination only on the inside. Hope can move the mountains. Hope is what it means to be alive, and hope is why the sun rises every morning, and why the bud flowers. I have found hope now, and not to lose it ever.

Now as hope moves mountains from my life, I can see a sun rising from my horizon, and a step going towards my Maktub.

-Peace

Neetzi

Law of club and fang

Before reading, the following equations have some relevance. That is, IF you chose to read.


Creatures. Alive. Fang. Savage. Club. Human.

Arranging in a proper sequence to equate it,

Creatures= Alive

Fang= Savage

Club= Human

Human+Savage=ADVANTAGE of Club over Fang.


After reading Call of the wild, a savage, however tamed or trained, doesn't belong to us. In the end it is called by wild. The thought process around London is that he himself has been away from the society almost all his life. He knew the human society, "law" and the inorder of order. Yet he chose to be away.

Not my inspiration, I don't own anything. Maybe that's why somewhere, I am the indirect reason for this law.

Embarrassment fell on Buck with his first snow. 'Tis purely Jack London. No other man can ever put something so trivial in such an exactly real and free manner. The evolved savage, and the mechanised cannibals need to know a lot. Firstly, chosing "Buck" as the hero of the story... hats off to him.

They often mention Darwin, Survival of the fittest. But they often do forget the law of artificial selection.

Maybe, we too are often called by the wild. Maybe, there's a Buck in all of us.

Yours Truly,
Neetzi