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The monks knew something was up. I wasn't moving like the other people around there, and for good reason -- the pills I'd acquired from a shady street vendor were in full effect. Still, I had enough marbles to remain polite and well-behaved, and so they just calmly kept an eye on me, as only monks at peace with Everything can do. Really, I just figured it would be a good thing to do in my current state of mind... furthermore, I had my good friend Lieutenant Burrito watching after me, and he had judged me capable of handling the situation, so off we went.
They had led us through a series of increasingly beautiful chambers, mumbling about religious things in increasingly vigorous broken english. Finally, we reached an alcove. The hallways had all been around ten feet tall, but here it opened up to easily five times that height. The square, tiled, wood panel motif continued for the most part, but became increasingly disconcerting as the eye travelled upwards. I started to feel like the mysterious morsel I had purchased and consumed at the market was jumping with glee. However, that's what myserious morsels do -- give you curious thoughts of anthropomorphic morsels jumping inside your guts. It's usually a sign that, in reality, you're about to hurl, or worse. But, this didn't feel quite like that. As I pondered it further, it stopped being a jumping bean and really reminded me more of a giant subwoofer pumping out some hoovers. With that conclusion, I stopped looking at the ceiling. How long had I been staring at it? No one was giving me The Eye, so I judged it hadn't been long. There were a pair of grand doors, succinctly decorated, largely camoflaged into the wall. Nothing like the ceiling. This was where we were to go next. I was unsettled by the seriousness of the ceiling, but the doors didn't seem to bad. They wrote that song about people being strange... no, wait, that's not right, I thought. A pair of monks straddled the doors, and pulled both open simultaneously, bowing as they did. I started to feel a slight edge of hoover again. Far out. I stepped into the room, and something hit me. It was reminiscent of every time I'd gone downhill on some sort of wheeled vehicle a tad too fast for my own good -- I started to fishtail, and WHUMP. I hit the wall. The monks surrounded me nervously, and I could hear a dozen voices saying, "Are you alright?" but I could not seem to see anyone's lips moving. Lieutenant Burrito was slooowly taking a swig off of his hip flask. I could understand the situation requiring a nip, but I wondered why he wasn't quicker about it. I put the situation aside and spelt out my planar stabalizers, wiggling my wrists in tandem malarky. My balance returned and I stood up. Lieutenant Burrito seemed to be moving normally again. "Sorry, just felt lightheaded..." I muttered, making a show of dusting myself off. The monks seemed to relax, vigorously. "We were not sure if we would have to remove you from the room," a voice in my head said. I looked around for the source of the voice, even knowing it sounded too internal to be outside of me... I was paying lip service to reality. I whirled around, observing my surroundings with a much less judgemental eye. I realized the room was like some sort of psychic superconductor, with the series of anteceding antechambers gradually stroking my magnetic field into the opposite polarity of the energy that this room was pulsing with. The mysterious pills seemed to have caused me to soak up excess magnetism like a fucking Doc Brown battery, and consequently, in this room, I was cookin' with gas. In the time it took a monk to inform Lieutenant Burrito, "We not sure if we have to have to remove him from the room, but ok now ya k" I had engaged in what seemed like years worth of conversation with the monks, sharing our life stories. It was like some sort of bizarre data synchronization. I felt nervous about retaining my individuality in the face of so much synchronization with people of different, but unified mindset... but, eventually, I realized that would not happen, because that would mean they would have to absorb my personality as well, and they thought I was batshit... but a nice batshit, we mean that in a nice way, they told me. As I surfaced from this, I started to consider reality again. I was still standing, the monk explaining to Lieutenant Burrito what happened. I realized I could freely leave my body and fly around the room -- but it was like a cage of sorts, I could not leave it. I returned to my body and asked the monks if I could perhaps have a laptop computer, preferrably one with internet access? A monk was already out the door to fetch a laptop by the time Lieutenant Burrito heard, "...ok now ya k". I sat down in front of the laptop. Disconcertingly, it was not set to English... I did not even recognize the glyphs. It was not an auspicious start. Still... I ran my palm over the beast, feeling its vibrations. More or less, I fell into it -- finding myself lost in a tumble of circuits and bus signals. It felt like hours I was bungling around in there, like a starving tourist with nothing tradable in a market where no one spoke his language. Finally, mercifully, I managed to get enough of a bearing to switch the laptop to english. It had been a pain in the ass, but realtime, it was still faster than actually using my fingers. That hurdle surmounted, I started to get a real feel for the laptop. Writing a silly little graphics display became like squiggling a pen. I turned my attention towards the wireless network interface, and, eventually, the internet. Then I logged onto http://www.ricedoutyugo.com/ and wrote this post. Then, I turned my eye to writing music software. |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2010-01-21 07:32:00 | |
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At 2010-01-21 13:07:08, Burt R Rye [website] scribbled the following:
A w e s o m e . |
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