Meet David Spoey

Chapter 6
All just a Dream

Brrrrrrrrrrring. The blaring alarm replaced my blurry dreamscape before I smashed the snooze button. My mind accelerated into waking consciousness.  Another morning, another day, another night-set spent sewn in time’s fabric. Blurry remnants of my strange dream lingered, of myself talking to a grandmother type lady at Tri Valley.  I tried to piece together some sense of the fast fading memories, with depressing results.

Why can’t I TiVo my dreams, schedule them for re-runs? What was her name? 

Most importantly, what did she say? I had the feeling I had forgotten an essential experience.  The snooze switched on, destroying my inward concentration, and I looked at the time: 4:20 AM. Time to start the early morning spo-ritual.  

I lived for my early morning spo-ritual, starting at 4 hundred hours when the alarm first rang, allowing for 20 minutes of light dreaming snooze, hopping out of bed at 4:20 AM, saying thanks to God for allowing his truth to remain alive in my Mody for another day, sending my well-wishes to my family and friends across the globe. I prayed that I might bring only goodness and truth to the world. “Mody” is my term for my integrated mind and body- a full human being, as a human without a mind is an animal, and a human without a body is merely the mind of God.

I relished changing for my early morning run, putting on New Balance running shoes and comfortable sport socks, and leaving my bedroom with my best friend, my dog Verdel, half miniature pinscher and Manchester terrier. He has been in my life since I rescued him from the State Pound two years ago. 

I grab a plastic glass from the cupboard. I twirl the glass to watch the crystal twinkles. Into the glass I pour Brita filtered water, and sprinkle lemon squirts into the cold clear liquid. I hungrily gulp down the life-giving molecular liquid, my throat imitating Verdel’s slurping tongue. I look forward to seeing the sunrise on the Olentangy River Trail, known throughout Columbus for the raw beauty of its diverse settings, containing plenty of parks where Verdel and his canine friends play. I expect my mind to match the stillness of the early morning air.  Most people think luna-tics wake up this early to suck moonlight crumbs. But I need a good warm up for my Mody, or else I am blurry all day long. I need to get to a good start to make it through my day-job.  Verdel the Stretch Master resembles a deer. 

I leave the door of my house with eyes crisp to the chilly dark world, and jog down my driveway and merrily on the sidewalks along Indianola Road, towards High Street, the main road of The Ohio State University campus. What OSU campus lacked in sustained idyllic beauty it trumped with concentrated diversity. Verdel tugs at the leash, basically strangling himself, the long nails of his brown paws scrape against the concrete.

Stop This! 

I knew I shouldn’t have volunteered for the summer tour guide job. I need to stop acting like an Ohio State promoter already. Run better spent you sing the time to imagine the fate of the tiny sweat about to merge with my eye. Here it rolls, salt into eye, always a good time for all parties involved. I have reached Pearl Street, the spooky alley along High Street. Glass shards covered the ground with streetlight reflections. I smiled as I spotted La Bamba. A man in a muddy trench coat emerged from behind a green dumpster, and bolted towards me, I thought his terror-twisted face complemented his flailing arms.  

A wave of unfamiliar fear engulfed my body before I regained my running composure and turned to face the man.  

In royal tones, he broadcast in my general direction: 

I am the monarch. You are a drone. I will squash you. I own you. I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t talking to me. Instead the endless voices of his skull enslaved him. The muddy man sat down Indian style in a puddle, muttering to himself. 

Suddenly Verdel stopped licking a tuft of grass and jumped on the man, begging for a treat or at least a French kiss. If the stranger got close enough to Verdel’s mouth, he would get a taste of the poop factory. I could tell Verdel liked the muddy man, because he sat on his face. The man only muttered nonsense with his eyes bugged out. The man convulsed and Verdel yelped, scampering back to my side. At least Verdel’s love barrage had distracted the manic utterances, for a bit.

As I untangled Verdel’s leash, I looked at the muddy man, and I thought, “He is just another Mody imprisoned in his emotional hologram.”  

Is there no end to the mystery of everyday living? 

After my short time on this enigmatic earth, there remained two huge questions in my mind: Why? and How?  

The only answers I can believe: because we can, and by all means possible. The fractal shaman patients lacked stable self-identification. Yet their individual selves paid my salary through the State, which paid me to chip away at their insanity at Tri Valley Behavioral Health Care. The state also gave me a check to educate undergraduates about the destructive properties of mental disorders, at Ohio State. I led them away from social states of mental illness, teaching them the danger of long sentences, and the strategic importance of simple communication.

The beggar’s voice continued on, his car had run out of gas, he was hungry, the excuses piled out, but the end purpose was predictable from a man living on the OmniCapitalist streets: “Can I have some money?” 

I pulled out my empty pockets and ran off.

Annoyed the panhandler upset my Sport-flow, I resumed my daily spo-ritual, sprinting across High Street into the security of Ohio State campus. I grokked the Wexner art school, an exquisite art forum courtesy of a great man, I reflected on the eventual essence of architecture and life in general, wisely wasting space. Simplicity, clarity, and persistence won the day for Mr. Wexner. Fulfilling the American dream, fate it would seem. Yet fate relies on actions in the here and eternally present Now. Every instant four thought branches crossed my mind easel, each unique in its form, source, and motivation.  My true self filtered the best residue for each moment. No, don’t run in front of the cars. No, don’t jump on the garbage can. Impulses were easy to control for me. I couldn’t say the same thing for Melinda or Eva.  

I realize most would sooner perish than think. My daily reality consisted of tricking myself and communicating with the world. There’s nothing better to do than probe the depths of the Mind-Universe-God MUGooniverse created by your OmniSelf. Your spirit worships God, your Body worships the mind, and the Mind worships the Universe. Hello Trinity.

As I passed the Ohio State Medical School towards the Olentangy Trail, a thousand crystalline light shimmers reflected ever-changing fractal patterns on the Olentangy River. The light energy- Phonergy from Hydrogen fused into Helium by HelioSol. We live and die embedded in his fiery sphere, who is the most powerful entity in our solar system. We fly in a Goldi-Lox orbit, bathed with just the right amount of energy, shielded from the UV photons by our planet’s atmospheric clothes. I could not make this story up if I tried. These enigmas are way above my comprehension. The bombardment of Phonergy onto the Earth produced bubbles of potential energy, producing extropy looking for a problem. The Phonergy catalyzed a burst of metaphysical restlessness for the unfolding drama of biological evolution. Solar Power On Every Thing became the cry of life, simple as it started.  

My flesh rotated around this ball of fire. Stories remembered of the ancient fusion reactor and me, another daylong rotisserie, radiating 10^27 Watts into space every second. As the sun deposits its solar radiation upon our womb the planet Earth, we gain the energy to continue life.  Life is solar dependent, period. Even us techno-sapiens are dependent on oil, coal, and other hydrocarbon biomass, which all are forms of concentrated solar energy, produced in the past and preserved by being buried by geological systems. Zillions of living organisms worked together to collect the energy of HelioSol, so us techno-sapiens could turn it into our industrial energy spree. We require HelioSol to radiate his energy from fusion reactions in its core, to impart some of the released energy as holes of entropy replicating themselves through virtual photons onto our earthly stage. The three main energetic sources used by humans: Sun, Earth, and Moon. 

One game, two teams with three main players, the holy divine trinity competed in every context.  The producer, processor, and consumer. The generator, operator, and destroyer. The father sun and holy spirit. The body mind and spiritual soul. The id ego and superego. UpDown ForwardBack RightLeft. Past Present Phuture.  Reason Spirit Desire. Energy Space Time.  Plants Animals Humans. Art Science PsiArs. Triangulating truth through throbbing theories.

Presently, the sun gives us over 10,000 times more energy than needed for the global economy.  We are on the wave of a fossil fuel binge, and it’s great, living in a pool of petroleum plastics and quadrillions of virtual dollars. This empire will last forever, and extend its conscious might to the end of the universe.  We might as well enjoy the reserve status of the dollar, which allows Americans to consume the lion’s share of the world’s resources. I thank the political gods each day they extend this amazing American empire, like every other empire before it. Why should I wallow in despair or create something new? What hope exists to illustrate new avenues, or God forbid a cohesive integrated picture of the reality coordinated through an alliance of benevolent beings. Everything old-be-nu starts from imagination, the re-creative process of God’s mind enforces the Power of God.

I do nothing- I have only a billion heartbeats to elect pervasive productive patterns of my unified Mody.  But I don’t create my proteins, I don’t create my body, I just sustain it, as I am just like any other machine. My mind has been created through my past experiences, and I always exist on the cliff of the future, choosing between two forms. We look backwards but act forwards. I need more precise metaphors to represent my holographic OmniSelf. The simultaneously spiritual OmniReality is hard to communicate, especially in coercive language constrained by the dead past, relative to the future processes powered by solar photons. Everything happens in the Future. 

 Good Gracious. The faint light of the Sun became a bright sunrise, captivating my gaze. I marveled at the gigantic self-sustaining nuclear reactor almost a hundred million miles away from my eyes.  The hugeness of the situation communicated awareness of the tulip blooms nestled on an adjacent slope. Fresh manure molecules touched my olfactory nerve balloon and triggered memorial associations of striking smells of an American road trip- the distant but distinct odor of a skunk’s attack; wavy plumes of hydro smoke fumes; burning leaf piles in the country.  Universally unique, a road trip across the carbohydrate fields of America showed the true character of a person. The ability to sing loud, be a courteous safe driver of passion, connect three hour thought trails to a higher level of wisdom, practice foreign languages with your friends or your OmniPDA. The road trip demonstrated an inability to tire of remembering your wonderful ever-emerging self. You can’t stop time, and you can’t stop two Columbus boys from reaching Miami.

I loved myself because I was on great terms with myself.  I worked every day under the dynamic ideals of clarity, beneficence, and ethical efficiency. Cheesy thoughts should remain unwritten. My true self was my Mody integrated through the experience of my mind and body, into my nondual Modal self.  Materialistic scientists are correct in breaking down our bodies to smaller bits of physical information- complex organizations of matter and energy, as organ systems, tissues, cells, mitochondria, microtubules, proteins, fats, nucleic acids, sugars, and molecules. Our Mody works down to the smallest DruFoos, like quarks, phonons, electrons, and photons. I laugh as the theory of eliminative materialism denies its creator- the very Spirit/Consciousness/Mind that creates it. So far, the champion in complexity and performance is the wrinkled grey Jell-O mold called the humble human brain, composed of 100,000,000,000 cells, 87% glial memory/support cells and 13% neuronal revolvers.  We think through the brain, protected by the skeleton, with the best system neural evolution has to offer. I am a spongy mirror to this OmniDelic world. I am a receiver, processor, and always sending in form may which some may shun. But I brush off my knees and persist, as pressing on solves all problems except unoriginality and plagiarism. When you surrender yourself to original thought, when you allow Eva’s universal truths to manifest in co-creative self-organization, you may channel your mind to the greenest pastures.  Collect what matters and move on. Several attempts offer a wealth of experience from which you may triangulate truth. I am still here, vibrating, absorbing active oxygen from the air, enveloped with passive nitrogen.

The upcoming waterfall intruded into the early morning summer Sunday calm. As I approached the foyer overlooking the tiny concrete drop, I noticed a large black spider on the ground and bent down to inspect it at a reasonable distance…

Ugghh!

A mosquito flew away from a red dot on my hand. I swear mosquitoes are the main reason I can’t buy the theory that God created all species on this planet for a purpose. I can’t imagine that mosquitoes do any good. Maybe they are here to annoy humans into moving around and staying fit. Wow, that was sad. It seems my mind has nothing better to do than activate itself by shuttling around virtual categories, achieving novelty at best. If I could build a thought preditor you wouldn’t have to listen to this surging nonsense, as I combine and create words. My apologies. On second hand, why in the kind world are you still reading this ancient text? These words are just random black splotches on a virgin canvas. Why waste time reading old news when you are living in a dream automatically making news? My ideas flow into activity. The entire point of my work is to increase good information. I’m not trying to hypnotize you, with the one ring to rule them, one thought to bind them. I apologize if you can’t understand my language. We are literally rich to read together. Don’t limit yourself. Don’t get mad you don’t understand me. You aren’t meant to.

Verdel tugs at his black leash. The sub-par thought train had severely slowed my pace. I better show that mangy mutt who is boss. This early, Verdel could sprint for a few hours, spared the intense heat of the day. His long deer like legs destroyed my weak competition. I clocked his sprints above 30 mph.

I emptied my mind for a minute crossing the historic Third Street Bridge, looking at the rushing creek water.

Feeling a bit winded, I stopped before a white trail tunnel to do pushups.  My upper body sizzled with the tingle of lactic acid in my legs.  Jumping up after twenty-two solid pushups, I catch Verdel licking tall blades of grass tufts. I bolt, and he follows me through the unlit concrete tunnel near Iuka Park, a tiny tree banana, a sliver of dandelions and nature amidst train tracks and oily college urbanism. Verdel loved to chase tiny dogs through the dandelion p…”

“Put your hands up or I’ll shoot!” 

A masked man with straight bright red hair emerged around the tunnel wall and pointed a sawed-off shotgun at my chest. Verdel barked furiously.

For some reason this Ginger didn’t scare me in the least. I knew how to deal with the situation.

I calmly put my hands in the air, keeping my finger on the SpoDart trigger of my Omny.

“What do you want?” I asked

He growled, “Why are you smiling, motherpho-?” 

Before he could insult my beautiful mother Kathleen, I unleashed a parallel barrage of thirty-three electric SpoDarts. I ducked to avoid any errant shotgun blasts. My SpoDarts stung him like an angry beehive.  I bet he’s never felt so alive. If normal thoughts are just tiny electric waves, the darts intensified thoughts by ten million.

I opened my eyes. I thanked my trusty SpoDarts, smiling as I removed the shotgun of the comatose thug. The ultimate in personal security, SpoDarts are tiny darts launched magnetically. With the press of a button, they deliver two electric vectors to an attacker, an ultra-capacitor and piezoelectric crystal.  You could buy Pharma Dart attachments for long-term pharmaceutical incapacitation. Little old ladies and huge men alike swore by SpoDarts. The crime rate had declined greatly with the commercialization of SpoDarts and other reliable personal safety products. Compared to the Dazer, SpoDarts have ten times the range, hundred times the capacity, and are a thousand times safer. I can’t be carrying my electric firearm while running.  

The ease of SpoDarts guaranteed their commercial success. The SpoDart system is integrated into a bracelet, headband, or glasses (I liked the watch style). SpoDarts have contributed greatly to the security of vulnerable Americans. The police are considering replacing the Dazer with SpoDarts, because of superior range, accuracy, efficacy, safety, and ease of use.  

Verdel, what are you licking now?  He had picked up a long length of rope nearby on the grass.  Good lookin’ buddy! Extra breakfast treats for you!

I bound tightly my attacker’s hands and feet with the rope, and accompanied Verdel back to the SPOLE at the 3^rd street intersection. A S-pole stands for a Solar Pole. Most SPOLES were cones built of strong carbon fiber and insulated with aerogel.   This SPOLES’ base was at least double the diameter of the large oak in my back yard.  The SPOLE surface is covered with Solar Philm, generating two kilowatts of solar electricity.  A helical wind turbine spins at the top, suspending a neon blue light, while it generated another three kilowatts of electricity.   

SPOLES were the brainchild of my father, Joseph Spoey. My dad wanted to Seed the social landscape with a connected mesh of security shelters. A lattice of SPOLES served as an ad hoc InfoWeb, as a communication platform of musical architecture, as a renewable source of energy for portable electronics, and as a secure shelter from the elements. Most importantly, SPOLES were places that people came to drink clean water and savor flavors of organic sno-cones. 

Spoles are completely fueled by the sun, wind, biomass, and Hunergy. Hunergy is my term for spiritual and physical energy of the human Mody. One common Hunergic device is a forever flashlight, which creates electricity by moving a magnet through a metal coil. This week, ESPN previewed the Hunergy version of the World’s Strongest Man competition, in which they compete to generate the most electricity in various machines. The most fun to watch is the squat generator.

On the SPOLE communications display, I open a message to the Columbus police, give some water to panting Verdel, and quickly type in the details of my situation.   

As I exit the SPOLE and run back down the OT trail, I hear police sirens zooming towards the SPOLE. I marvel at the logical laws of modern society, contrasted by the utterly unreasonable nature of some people, like the shotgun attacker. I am not one to hate on business models, but most runners don’t carry anything of value. All I carried was my SpoDarts and a runner’s high. What did he expect to steal from a sweaty runner?

A long day it has been already. I haven’t even eaten breakfast. I look for the shortcut through Union Cemetery. Near the Olentangy Wetlands, I pull Verdel off the Olentangy trail and down a hill of wildflowers. Verdel and I step through a human sized portal in the woods. Instantly my environment transformed from woody trail to an ocean of green and grey gravestones. I notice all the familiar Names in the grassy grave matrix.  I visualize my Aunt Becky’s eyes, my great grandmothers peas, my friend Ashley Hach’s smile, and the hugs of my lovely grandmother, Mary. I cannot wait to meet them again, if I finally lose the game of life.   

I run across the American Chemical Society lawn. I smile at the twenty manicured acres of green grass. So much solar energy and biomass (grass and leaves) invested in aesthetics. My lawn is an active source of energy, oxygen, water, hydrogen, electricity, food, and bio-fuels. Yet this lawn offered even less utility than a parking lot. I will admit the lawn looked great, aesthetic sink that it was. I had much work to do.

My body started to spasm as I sprinted the final distance back to my house. I stumbled to find the key buried in the leaves. I remove my sweaty clothes as I switch on the shower. I am especially obsessed with my shower, with digital temperature control, waterproof MP3 player, and a brand new Shower Spiramid. I put on the Abbey Road album by the Beatles, and set the water temperature to 99 degrees. Before I jump in, I remember my morning spo-ritual DruPharma. I run into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee for the day. Verdel runs with me, and I give him some water and food. He runs outside to bark at the squirrels sitting on the fence posts, taunting his climbing skills.

Running floods my synapse with natural endorphin keys to open my opioid neuro-locks. My euphoria expands as the fresh scent of coffee wafts into the warm shower. I love to block my adenosine receptors with caffeine, obliterating any sign of the reaper’s cousin during my daily delving into the intense impulses of patients at Tri Valley Behavioral Health Care, the state of Ohio’s only mental health incarceration facility.  The patients at Tri Valley provide a raw sun-king contrast to yawning Ohio State undergraduates. The brutal reality of human cognition lies in the insane’ golden slumbers.  You are the world filtered through your physical and spiritual memory. 

Still cold sweat amongst the flowing warm shower water- I squirt some shampoo into my palm from the Shower Spiramid, my father’s first commercial invention, consisting of seven slide-in dishwashable liquid compartments, composed of see-through performance polymer.  The Shower Spiramid solved the problem of bathroom bottle clutter, centralizing liquid dispensing in one convenient device: two shampoos, conditioner, two flavors of body wash, bubble bath, face wash, whatever you choose. Nothing inspired my father more than intelligent combination- in ideas, markets, and love. 

The day my dad launched the Shower Spiramid, I scolded him for his lack of product foresight, from a remote tropical island.  

I remembered our conversation that day. “Dad, The Spiramid is perfect for customization and diversification.  It is perfect for any sort of liquid dispensing.  Think about it, you could make a chemistry lab Spiramid. Or a insulated travel version.  You could market a childproof larger Convenient Closet Spiramid for cleaning and other household liquids. You could market industrial vers--”

“STOP!” My dad’s yell shook my eardrum.

“David son, its 2 o’clock in the morning. What are you doing still up?”

“You know I can’t sleep until 3”

“Stop drinking a pot of coffee- you aren’t in the army. Call me in three hours when I get up. Psycho.” Click.

Mmmm…a waft of roasted coffee bean tingled my olfactory bulb, pushing my consciousness into physical focus. Gliding the Shampoo dispense button with great gusto, I whistled Polythene Pam as I decided on watermelon body wash. Why not, Mary my secretary already suspects I am ahem fruity. I don’t protest because that way she doesn’t pry into my romantic life, admittedly nonexistent these days. I am so busy and I haven’t found anyone as crazy awesome as me yet.  Did I just say crazy awesome? Grow up David, you sound like your teenage cousin Suzy. And I’m using watermelon body wash.  What’s a guy supposed to do? It smells good! Does that make me metrosexual?  People are so presumptuous these days.  Who believes in simple goodness anymore? My jaw clenched and concentrated on the sound of rushing water. Deciding to relax my jaw, I left the previous jumble of thoughts in a pool of sudsy water at my feet.  

I chose to skip the conditioner and turned off the hot water. The colding deluge closed my pores and catalyzed my exit. Finally I reach the coffee pot, enjoying the cold French vanilla cream swirl in fractal white spirals amidst the brown elixir.  The toaster popped out some golden brown toast, which I promptly covered with peanut butter and tomatoes…haha just kidding what do you think I’m crazy? Just plain buttons and toast in the morning, thank you.  Two fried eyes on buttered toast and my dish is fully layered. Mary will probably have a little morning snack, so there’s no need to scarf more. I poured three liquids- spicy V8, orange juice, and ice-cold Brita-filtered water, with a squirt of lemon, of course.  

I peep the remote and turn on the plasma, recline on the black leather couch while I break fast. The early morning news discusses the psychiatric disease formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder. Now, the official term is Dissociative Identity Disorder. I imagined entered both terms into my Omny, my personal information interface.  The Omny is a product that I want to commercialize. As a psychiatrist and neuroscientist, I am extremely interested in intelligent systems. The Omny is one’s personal oracle- it processes, receives, transmits, displays, teaches, illustrates, organizes, synchronizes, categorizes, resonates, suggests, guides, educates, entertains, networks, records, gathers, touches, analyzes, reports, searches, predicts, plans, downloads, uploads, and if I so choose, the Omny EVOLVES.  

The Omny, for those of you living in Antarctica the past decade, is what the personal computer became,  the OmniPDA, capable of doing anything you could imagine.  One could live in the virtual metaverses of the Omniverse all day. Many spent hours there, and most were better off for it. The Omny’s application – OmniVersity—

consisted of 99.9% of all human knowledge and experience, presented in every format. The OmniVersity made learning easy, offering many wearable and stand-alone user interfaces, such as shoes, hats, glasses, laser displays, holographic displays, OLCD screens, wristwatches, laptops, desktops, walls, and active gloves. 

Another application for the Omny is the OmniMarket, where an individual can buy or purchase any sort of thing, provided one intended benevolent purposes. To optimize transfer protocols (OTP), the Omny integrates with the intelligent transport system (OmniGrid), securing a stable connection for all transport: people, information, material, and energy. It contains the Omni Positioning System (OPS). Omny controls our OmniBot God-Slaves, formerly known as machines. The Omny performs at least 100 PetaFlops, a processing speed similar to the techno-sapien brain. (It Hertz, I know, these unstoppable 100,000,000,000,000,000 operations per second. Similarly, the amount of solar energy hitting Earth’s surface each second (120 PetaWatts). Ten billion people on Earth; 10 billion transistors; 10 billion active neurons. Quality is merely conscious quantity.

Whoops. Sorry about that. My mind often explodes in fractal thought. Sometimes I have ten thought tangents from one central thought station. I send branches off in opposite directions to aid my conscious energy conservation. Feel free to skim, as not everything I say is important, and time is of the essence. We must keep our focus on our goals, or else we will end up somewhere else. Sometimes my mind looses focus and I brainstorm marketing plans for a future product.  In the past year, I have networked extensively with intelligent motivated people.  They have helped me see the third major revolution, the transport revolution, in which we techno-spirits now live. The first two human revolutions were the agricultural revolution, which produced surplus civilization, and the industrial revolution, which produced modern cities. The transport revolution subsumes the previous two revolutionary developments, as the OmniCorporation builds the global human body, through integrated transport systems. The Internet and the rise of cell phones represent the initial stage of the Transport Revolution, as we grow complex yet unified information networks across the globe. Now (essentially) any information is freely accessible to any connected individual on the planet. Information is first because of its ethereal, entity-dependent nature. It is a non-rival good, meaning it can be copied freely, once the information pattern is created. Along the information networks, and the existing transportation systems, the OmniGrid will emerge, ensuring transport security for people, information, material, and energy (PIME).  The OmniGrid will be a self-reliant infrastructure, separating the planes of transport to eliminate collisions. You don’t wonder how the light turns on, from where the faucet water flows, or where the toilet water goes. You just know everything works. The OmniGrid ensures the right stuff gets to the right place at the right time.

Cars may enter the grid and travel automatically. Public taxis remain on the OmniGrid. Goods and Freight travels at high speeds across the globe, although most things are produced locally.  OmnEnergy, pure water and clean air are harvested and carried by the OmniGrid. Biomass is grown along the OmniGrid, producing food, fiber, fuel, and fun. But my favorite benefit is the trash tube, which takes all the refuge back to atomic recycler plants. No more smelly garbage in the streets.

The OmniGrid combines the three logistical functions of economics: production, transport, and regeneration. Through efficient logistics, the OmniGrid matches production with consumption, supply with demand, inputs with outputs. What are the nine sources of OmniGrid energy? I count nine power source champions! Solar, wind, biomass, Hunergy, geothermal, hydrokinetic, fusion, fossil fuel, and fission. Note that hydrogen production requires one of these primary energy sources. Thus hydrogen is merely an ideal energy carrier, burning to produce water, but not a primary power source.

In contemplating this OmniGrid, my outlook changed from an academic therapist to a social capitalist. I now realize business provides the key for creating global wealth by introducing beneficial technologies.  The Transport Revolution combines art and science, subjective experience and objective knowledge to achieve a dynamic commercial synthesis. If we optimize OmniMarket transport of the OmniCorporation, humanity will reach Type One Civilization, and our descendents will live in blissful peace. The alternatives are not desirable. Marketing allows innovative external applications of many psychological truths. We live in an abundant universe, limited only by our mind antennas. If we exist to produce, we should at least work wisely.  Everything was for sale today on the OmniMarket. To buy life, you must sell your time for wealth. 

Wikipedia describes the psychiatric phenomenon of multiple personalities in droll terms. Apparently, the new mental handbook replaced MPD with DID as the official term. Psychiatric officials believe it not possible to have two people in one body. These Psych Masters couldn’t have more than one thought at once.  They never thought in fractal thought trees. Simultaneous abilities are selfish advantages. But that is just myself. I am not the patients I see on a daily basis. They couldn’t control their impulses, whereas I could. The Buddhists deny selfish stability.

I put my plate down on the floor for my begging buddy Verdel, his shining coat a perfect blend of brilliant brown and shining black. I had taken him yesterday to the dog wash. Deathly afraid of running water, he usually cowers in fear when the shower rains down on him. I laughed at the black Psi on the top of his brown head.  The clean plate fit snugly into the dishwasher and I flipped it on. 

I need more dishwashing solution. Katabaz always said, “Perfect your experience.” All good marketing created desire for a feeling. Annoying advertising stuck in my head stronger than pleasant melodies. Did I desire to be annoyed, bewitched, confused, and deceived? I wasn’t too sad about it. Everyone smile- the universe smiles with you.

This strange year of 2006, surprisingly immodest and painfully delicious to experience, gave an air of originality to the chain of events.  Even the month September crept as an Indian ballerina sneaking one final stupendous dance, before ending his prowess with a standing ovation from the whole audience, all children at home drinking vanilla coffee sweet and creamy. How do you take the caffeine advantage?

Beep. Beep. Beep. There goes my phone alarm. It’s 7 AM. My treasured early morning quiet hour is over.  Time to start the day. First stop, Tri Valley Behavioral Health Care, to check on a few of my favorite people- Eva and the infamous Katabaz Theodix- both afflicted with MPDeity, I mean, Dissociative Identity Disorder.  It had been a week since I had seen Katabaz- and he sent me a few threatening emails, to davidspoey@gmail.com.  I let him have my personal email because he made me laugh, with his violent manners and ever flowing warped personalities. 

After tragically losing his wife and daughter when a drunk driver crashed into their car, Katabaz snapped and went on a road trip of destruction. Katabaz believes that my father Joseph poisoned him three years ago to steal SpoKa, the corporation now called SpoTilm. Katabaz acts kind to me, but I detect faint flickers of deep resentment of my family. Katabaz managed to wrest one patent away from SpoTilm, for Autorine, an automated waste management system. At the patent office, they don’t give much intellectual credence to a man in the ‘loony prison.’ Say what you want about the confluence of genius and madness, relative to success. I didn’t want Autorine, anyway.

I felt gratitude to be free. How great it is to be alive. To feel, to know, to act, to say I love you- truer dialogue. Living a collective Dionysian delusion. I wish I had time to spend with everyone, but since I don’t- I am lucky to be here with you. I forgive myself for every mistake I make, and vow to do better. The dilemma had become a conundrum. No restraint and no regret? What other option is there? The wondrously real absurdity of absolute freedom made me a little dizzy.

Oh go away, I thought, as an annoying housefly lands on my nose. I couldn’t exactly smack it there.  Its dirty buzz disgusted me.  What purpose did it serve? Why the fly existed befuddled me.  Then I remembered. It exists because its systems are currently sustainable. It escaped death for a fleeting moment, before I smashed it into my table with a good paperback, “The Culture of Narcissism,” by Christopher Lasch. I cleaned it up with a tissue- into the garbage you go.  Once you learn to laugh at yourself, you can truly be happy. As an OmniCidal techno-monkey, I had no mercy for the tiny insect soldier polluting my air with unsanitary nanotechnology, trying to distract me from the task at hand- departing in my automobile, a Lexus RX330. 

Listening to the car growl awake, I clicked my seatbelt and replaced my black iPod Nano into its mobile home. On a Dark Side binge lately, feeling comfortably numb in Floyd’s watching the sunrise on the horizon. Trying to Breathe feeling all that I touch a bit too intensely in fiery dreams lashing my mind. Again I remembered my fingers feeling the soft corpse of the housefly through a Bounty paper towel layer. I said a quick thank you for this human mind castle. Better a living techno-sapien than a dead housefly. 

For so much I have to be grateful. My whole life relies on the labors of other people, living and dead. They invented this language, built the roads, educated my parents, sewed my clothes, and smiled as I passed. I can only hope my work heals heavy-burdened hearts. I thank sHeIaM for everything I have. sHeIaM is me, you, my mind, my universe, and my GOD. sHe is the Generator, Operator, & Destroyer. sHe is everything. sHe is OmniTruth. Each human mirrors the universal beauty. We are born as tiny feral naked apes, incapable of worrying for ourselves. Culture carved me into a productive techno-sapien, in turn working for others in society. Our combined strengths eliminate individual weaknesses.

The Money track started with the register sounds. I visualized a vivid Technicolor shift. My mind switched back into linear logical daytime thought. Traffic flowed along I-70 going East, as us techno-monkeys rushed to our sheeple work-boxes like herded hanimals, to power the globamerilocal economy with our spiritual and physical energy. I was one of seven billion Human batteries who worked to spark the daily economic miracle. We returned home at night, to recharge through restorative phusion of sport, food, sleep, and social love (slove). All is the excitation and relaxation of GOD, like Solve et Coagula.

Finally I pulled into the Tri Valley Behavioral Health Care parking lot. I marveled at the black pavement, a testimony to the passivity of the current transportation system.  So much wasted paved-over green real estate, and for what? Level Ground to deposit automobiles during driver absence. Economics rules the world. I visualized the OmniMarket and the OmniGrid. At least my kids would live to see both.

The black pavement warmed my shiny black shoes, complemented by crisp khakis and a smooth black Gucci shirt.  Three days ago (Friday), I went on a shopping date with an ultra-smooth lady named Jill. She convinced me to pick up some sharp clothes for work. A casual dresser by birth, I lost myself in Jill’s curvy brown eyes and intense figure. Why not? We picked out matching black outfits. Hers was laced with dark purple and mine with dark blue. We looked stunning in our new outfits purchased at Easton, the suburban mall of traffic and hellfire. This city owned suburban shopping district demonstrated the new model for extra-urban development. The town lost independence and farmland, and gains tax revenue and government subsidies, to create a massive gorporate cancer, swallowing oil capsules, forests, and nonconformists by the boatload.  Of benevolent American commercial tissue, Easton received a million black Friday visits in Columbus. I reached the double reinforced entrance and pocket -fumbled. 

I swiped my key, and the door buzzed with approval.

“Congratulations, Dr. Spoey. You found a lady to dress you.” Godu the check-in security guard blinked unbelieving my flashy attire as I walked in dressed my new Monday gear. I looked up at Godu and smiled sheepishly.

“Aw Doctor, don’t sweat it. You look fly. Keep it up and you might get lucky.” Through the dura-glass, Godu loved to watch the strange activities of Tri Valley, the only institution in Ohio for mentally ill convicts. I wondered if he ever felt caged in his gilded security palace. Secretly, I believed Godu had a NGRI brother (Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity) here at Tri Valley. He always kept the coffee hot and the doors warm.

“Thanks a lot, Godu. Can you give me the code for Katabaz?”

Godu laughed and said, “That cat gives me the creeps. Compared to Eva, Kata is a modern day monster.” 

Famous to all Tri Valley staff, the only two patients diagnosed with DID/MPD, Eva and Kaz required daily-changed key-codes to enter their rooms, because of their sudden changes in personalities and pro-pensi-clivity for physical and mental violence.  Truth be told, there weren’t many volunteers beside myself. Transitions are the most important factor in life, otherwise known as surfaces, interfaces, connections, boundaries, extremes, limits, parameters, differences, separations, and changes

My stoic demeanor suited me well, for my inner life surged with OmniOrdered transformations. Unlike Katabaz, I possessed amazing impulse control. I often wondered if I entered the mental health field to find keys to unlock my own tangled self. I finally figured I came for more than one reason.  In the unrestrained spontaneous “psychotic” behavior I saw sporadic glimpses of pheral truth. Individuals reflected the cultural insanity gripping the globe in the birth pangs of the Transport Revolution, as the proto-PIME grids are in development, transcending the Internet infrastructure, to securely transport People’s InfoMassErgy. Enjoying youth requires indomitable courage and confidence.

I walked through the automatic door on my left and down a long bright corridor. At the last door, I swiped my ID card and punched in the seven-digit key-code ‘8-9-4-1-2-1-0’. The door opened and the two infamous doors appeared- on the left Katabaz’s colored black and to the right, Eva’s royal purple, both colors by insistence of their endless personalities. 

I listened for sounds from either side. Nothing but Silence. I knocked on the grey door. “Good Morning Katabaz. Care to chat?” 

After a short silence he said, “Caffeinate me, and we’ll see.”

A familiar request, I ran to the cafeteria and grabbed two vanilla lattes.  My breakfast caffeine maintained a solid blood-force of adenosine blockage, but another vanilla latte never hurt anyone. 

I entered the code again, 8-9-4-1-2-1-0. 

“Okay, Katabaz, your latte is searing my hand. What’s the deal?”

Katabaz “Come in, fellow inmate Spoey.”

I opened the door with my ID card.

Katabaz continued, “I’m surprised you haven’t left yet. You have the brains for the business world, and you are your father’s heir for his financial and intellectual estate. You should be out making real cash through his stolen ideas. Instead, you waste time talking to locked up luna-tics like me.”

I laughed and took a gulp of coffee. Katabaz knew how to find your thumbscrew- the linchpin of your dreams. 

I said, “Well, money is not my prime motivator. Truth propels me. Have you considered I enjoy your company?”

He scoffed, “Boy you don’t get it. The only thing worth valued in this OmniCapitalist society is capital. Money is God. Money is food-power. Money is Memory. Money is Time. If you want power to change the world, you must have money. Governments on Drugs love the Money Power. Get with the program. Transportation is Civilization Powered by Solar Capital. The El-ites worship Sol’s atomic technology, hydro-fusion producing all the photons on which we humans and vineyards rely.”

 

I shifted positions in the chair and paused, “Huh?” I needed to listen closely.

My cell buzzes and I look down at the screen- text message from Mary, my office secretary. I switch it to silent.

I take a big swig of the coffee. Hmmm…what was that tinge of bitterness? I didn’t recall that taste, however faint. 

Kaz’s cryptic smile resonated with my bones and belly, this one especially unnerving.  He hungrily sucks down a self-rolled cigarette. Tobacco was valuable dru-pharma, especially for patients with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, two of Katabaz many disorders. I poke the hole of his smoke ring and it dissipates into a circle of whirling wisps. He smirks and blows a replacement. He flicks the top of the new ring and produces a transitory smoke heart. 

How delightful. I knew Katabaz would capture many a woman’s heart on their first date- with his confident yet mysterious rhetoric. After the first date his spell might begin to wear off, when Katabaz changed from a handsome black haired man to carerrorist recruiter.

Yet whatever spell he cast, it worked. I fell out of my chair and slumped to the floor. My head pounding, I felt my body spasm as Katabaz stopped ranting and pounced over the table towards me. 

Before all faded to black, I fired two SpoDarts, catching him in mid-flight with the paralyzing electric current. 

His eyes flew open and he fell to the ground next to me, shaking violently. 

Chapter Seven

Alpha Merica at Ohio State in 2042

SPORTIME : Real Time Information Matter Energy

Solar Powered Omni Renewable Transport

Alpha triggered the decelerator. His black OmniPod slowed from continental velocities, They left the simple rural OmniGrid and entered the dense layers of Ohio’s capital city’s OmniGrid.  Alpha cruised into Columbus city lanes at 80 mph. Before ten thoughts appeared the familiar sight of the two Ohio State campus Towers, Lincoln and Morrill.  Omny took over directing the OmniPod to their destination- the house of Isabella Loveda, located on the southwest corner intersection of Lane and Indianola Avenue. 

Alpha’s Omny twinkled with video message from Isabella, “I can’t wait to see you, Alpha. We had so much fun last time.” 

Alpha jerked up as Beta screamed in shotgun. “A Michigan FAN! On Ohio State 

Campus! Have they no respect? We will be kings of the country once again. On our way to national championship , our Scarlet and Grey shall again annihilate their treacherous blue and gold.” 

“I know. I’m glad we took the weekend off to come here for the Michigan home game. Been an unbelievable season so far! Did you hear about their star quarterback Tony’s workout tent?  Now that’s a party. I need a good celebration after finishing a solid year of filming The Ultimate Reality Show.  I pushed my mind body and spirit to their limits last year.” 

Alpha’s Omny played a cheerful melody as we pulled off the city OmniGrid, down the exit ramp, and onto the top of Isabella’s house at the corner of Lane and Indianola. Isabella gave me a bear hug. We pulled our bags out of the OmniPod, and the AutoGarage took it away. 

In the Transport Revolution, the OmniGrid conquered the world with secure tube-trails. Every city developed a distinct yet compatible transport system. Some cities preferred large freight and vehicles to run underground. Some cities ran all transport underground and some all above ground. About ten years before, Columbus had completed a world-class OmniGrid. The Columbus OmniGrid captured the clever spirit of the city, masking the powerful genius of the system with enchanting spaces for tourist and citizen alike.

I turned my attention to the tan skinned chocolate haired young beauty gazing into my soul with curvy brown eyes. 

“Isabella, you look astounding, as usual. The SpoRiTual OmniGrid got us here in less than 8 hours from San Diego.  How are you? And who is your darling blonde friend hugging Beta?”

“That is Diana. I’ve got more friends downstairs waiting to start the Friday pre-game celebration.” Isabella batted her long eyebrows.

I grinned widely. I felt young again; the floating feeling to start the never-ending night. “You college kids know how to party.  I must say, twenty years ago the campus didn’t look so nice. I’m really excited about the Columbus’ development.”

Isabella said, “Well, get ready for an OSU drinking barrage. But first, let us build bases in our stomachs with some pasta. Hungry?” 

“Indubitably!” I said.

The four of us walked downstairs. Four more ladies, Isabella’s roommates, ran around preparing for the night. 

To warm up our stomachs, we ate fresh washed cherries from a purple bowl. I remarked, “These are great cherries, the perfect balance of tart and sweet.”

“Thanks, I grew them upstairs in the aquaponic gardens. Do you want some wheat grass? Its great for your urinary tract.” Lucy, an intensely beautiful blonde, pointed her index finger at the higher garden layers of their house.

Honestly, I could have used some. But the taste of wheat grass…it’s just not up my alley. “No thanks babe. I might take you up tomorrow, if my head hurts before the game.”

The room fell quiet and we heard a scream of OH-IO from the streets. The best things stay the same.

Isabella interrupted the silence and turned on the omni-recorder, “I want to re-member this night with my mother.  Alpha, tell us a juicy scoop, about your book deal for OmniCapitalist and your holo-movie – Omni Reality Show, or some SpoDeas.” 

“Oh, I’d rather not. I just finished a year filled with work. Let’s focus on the great things we have right here- great company, delicious food, amazing transport, and a delightful night of drinking glucotic mixtures of aqua and ethanol.”

“Well, then at least tell us of your favorite Island.” All six of the coeds leaned in to the table to catch SpoTilm’s secrets. 

“There’s no contest for that one. My favorite island remains the first island owned by SpoTilm, called Malakahari. My friend Pat George came up with the name.  Malakahari is located off the coast of Venezuela. Beta, would you agree that its lush blue-water and crystal sands cannot compare to the blinding beauty in this room?”

“It must be heaven, Alphonse. How may we visit?” Isabella cracked.

“You are hilarious, Isabella,” I said.

I liked no one better than confident intelligent females, ladies like my mother, Melinda Verde- strong, loyal, and beautiful. Something about Isabella resonated the strong mother archetype embedded in Eva’s dream, the balancing force on all levels.

“SpoTilm established the first prototype of OmniGrid on Malakahari in 2024.  We tested our OmniPods on the tiny OmniGrid.”

“How?”

“What do you mean how?”

“Explain our wonderful transport system in common language. What powered the OmniGrid in 2024?” 

“The same energy sources used today. Primarily, solar radiation, all-altitude wind fuel, hydrokinetic power, bio-fuel, hydrogen, fossil fuels, geothermal, atomic fission, of course- clean nuclear fusion. But most essential is Hunergy- human physical and spiritual energy.” OmniGrid extensively employs electricity, the most efficient energy carrier. Electricity, of course, equals electrons flowing through a conductor like a wire, like water molecules flowing through pipes.”

Lucy interrupted me, “My dad told me hydrogen was the energy source of the future. Is that true?”

“Hydrogen is a great carrier of energy, but it is not a primary source. It takes energy to produce and store pure hydrogen.”

Lucy crinkled her nose, “So what are the things storing and using the energy?”

“Tubes, Valves, Wires, Fuel Cells, Super-Capacitors, Batteries, Generators, Linear Induction Motors, Magnetic Motors, Internal Combustion Engines, and Humans.” Alpha smiled, knowing only a specific audience even understood all of the previous components. This tiny audience was composed of the people who designed the OmniGrid, anyway. Everyone else just used it like a toilet or a faucet, adapting to expect automatic PIME transport.

Isabella took control, “Let’s move onto the assumptions behind the OmniGrid?” 

“Everything is movement – idea, thought, WORD, action, habit, character, destiny.”

I continued, “As Kipling said, Civilization is transport. Controlled movement (of light, information, matter, and energy) is civilization. OmniGrid ensures the optimization of transport protocols (OTP). OmniGrid integrates transportations into a coherent meta-system with distinct tube/rail/track/path/grid/vehicle systems for each transport path: Light, Energy, Information, Humans, OmniPods, Water, Goods, Freight, and Refuse.”

Isabella interrupted, “Whoa! That is a bit too deep for me. Exactly what is so great about OmniGrid? Why did your integrated transport systems enjoy global success?”

OmniGrid rules because good motion is the key to intelligence. The entire society, individuals and organizations alike, benefit from an integrated efficient transport system.  America’s transport system around 2010 consisted of tons of blacktop, tons of waste, tons of inefficient cars, tons of traffic, tons of pollution, and tons of greased up fun.  The Automobile ruled king, just as it does today.  Only today, with the OmniGrid, the automobile is now an ultimate OmniMobile that is secure, powerful, convenient, and efficient. Instead of endless miles of passive blacktop, we have ten thousand miles of active energy-harvesting modules fueling the transformations of integrated transport system. Each transport lane has its own secure path, with no dangerously inefficient intersections or collisions. Each part of the transport system provides free energy, if the OmniMobile drivers decide to use it. Most private cars chose to use their onboard energy sources, and stop at Energy Stations, where they could charge their batteries, fuel cells, or refill bio-fuels into Internal Combustion Engines. Why rely on Arabs for fuel? Biomass was enough for Henry Ford. 

The secret domination of the Electric motors, with superior torque curves, ensured most private and all public OmniPods are electric. Magnetically controlled electron parties constitute the bulk of public transport.

“What the heck is a torque curve?”

It charts the amount of radial force (torque) generated by an engine in relation to revolutions per minute, illustrating the engine’s performance at different RPMs. Translation, torque curves show the amount of power generated by an engine at different frequencies.

Every type of social organization profits by integrating most essential traffic on an efficient transport: Individuals, Families, Businesses, Schools, Religions, Governments and Species. The OmniGrid, traversed by public and private vehicles, fueled by the sun’s constant insolative input of170 PetaWatts of Phonergy, wind energy, water energy, geothermal energy, biofuel, human energy (Hunergy), fossil fuels, and atomic energy (fusion and fission). Symbolically and physically, the five elements that fuel OmniGrid: fire (solar phusion), air (wind), water (hydrokinetic), earth (geothermal, fossil fuels), and modal work of techno-spirits (Hunergy). Compare these to plasma, gas, liquid, solid, and dark superstring energy.

The OmniGrid was destined to arise as humans learned to better harness the available terrestrial energy. But I am certainly a biased observer. Out of fairness, I’ll review the negatives of OmniGrid. All change causes consequences.  

With the OmniGrid, there is no traffic, no accidents, no friction, no weather problems, no parking problems/meters, no wasted lots of parking, no harmful emissions, no drunk/drugged driving, no sleepy driving, no intersections, no mentally ill driving, no getting lost, no speeding tickets, no stoplights, no intersections, no flat tires, no one-way streets, no dangerous turns, no one-lane mountain roads, no pedestrian danger, no construction back-ups, no narcoleptic danger, no towing trucks, no teenager screw-ups, no road rage, no fatal mistakes, and no worries.”

What about wine, Alpha? Isabella waved her hands.

Well, I thought you knew wine is shipped in the goods and freight tubes, or carried on the OmniPods.

“No Alpha…Red or white?

Okay, Pinot Grigio is fine.

Please keep going Alpha.”

Here are the positives of the OmniGrid:

Enjoy Intelligent Omny2OmniPod synchronization. Choose your optimal lane, speed, route, and destination. Use communication media while riding, get work done, read a book, have conference call, watch movie, write articles, sightsee, earn money watching advertising traveling the country. Travel Atlantic to Pacific in 7 hours. Marvel at automatic navigation and Clean-Quiet technology. Your free public and private travel is supported by OmniMarket advertisements and sustainable energy (solar, biofuel, wind, geothermal, hydrokinetic, hydrogen, fuel cells, electricity, Hunergy). The OmniPod offers up to ten efficient power options. Charge the OmniPod with Hunergy and get an intense workout. Get the blood pumping through your body.  

After Alpha stopped, Lucy stood up on her chair. Everyone yelled at her. I assumed she wrote for the Sentinel, the libertarian paper at The Ohio State University.

She ignored their verbal transport, moving outrageous thoughts through her Mody. Jumping onto Alpha’s lap, she said, “OmniGrid is the ultimate transport system. So why don’t you care about carving its name in stone to your credit? I’d think you’d want to preserve the naming rights. Why don’t you call it AlphaGrid?” 

Alpha smiled sheepishly, “I prefer function over form.  And it’s not my invention- efficient transportation belongs to every human, past and phuture. Words mean next to nothing. They can’t even heat my coffee. I’m all about the implementation of ethical intelligent efficient transport systems. I could care less about peoples’ laryngeal rumbles, as long as all individuals and organizations reap the benefits. My mantra is capital transport, free markets.” 

“Dinner’s Ready!” Isabella and Diana carried two white bowls brimming with pasta, mmm…rigatoni and angel hair. The seven roommates, Isabella, Diana, Cindy, Jessica, Lucy, Emma, and Emily, plus us two SpoTilm guests sat down around the round wooden table. The scarlet and grey Ohio State tablecloth smelled laundry fresh.

I examined my intricately detailed silver fork decorated with scarlet gemstones. Isabella even had expensive Buckeye scarlet and grey cutlery.  

Isabella’s father started an OmniMobile manufacturing company to compete to my OmniPod. There was nothing I liked better than a challenge. Both brands sold billions, to private owners and public organizations.  The divine performance of both OmniCar brands could restore your faith in human technology. They stood for efficiency and convenience.  Both offered many power options: OmniGrid electricity , Batteries, Solar Philm, Fuel Cells, Liquid Fuels. Super-Capacitors were optional for unbelievable bursts of speed, better than any nitrous tank.

Chewing, slurping, and other satisfied noises pervaded the kitchen. 

The spicy kick of the marinara complemented perfectly the zesty meatballs. I cooled my palate with a tangy green salad topped with sweet Italian dressing, and took a big swig of the lemon water.  

Isabella scolded Lucy, “Stop reading your Omny. It is rude to our visitors.”

Lucy just stuck her tongue out and continued reading.

“This is great DruPhoo.”

What does that mean?

“I’ll take this one,” Isabella stood up.

Uh oh…I thought, she’s going to make a scene.

“Like his father, Alpha believes ONE God is Everything. All in one in all- he believes God composes us. He believes we eat God.  One of his many names for God is DruFoo. Since he believes God is literally all the material in the universe, he worships anything he entering his body as In-Ex-Foo DruFoo. This includes imbibing heat, visualizing light, resonating sounds, breathing oxy-air, refreshing H20, eating smelly/tasty food, taking nutrients, and ingesting drugs.” These things are not options.

“I am blessed with Dru-Phictions. My Mody is Dru-Phixed to bodily energy, clean air, pure water, and nutritious food. I cannot live without them” 

“Complementing basic DruPhictions are SpoRituals, such as purification, sport (movement), security, sleep, s-love, and mind-technology. Together, material DruPhictions and spiritual SpoRituals integrate to represent the living phusion of any techno-sapiens.”   

 “I’m impressed, Philosophaster Isabella. You remembered all that from our bar stool conversation last time. I figured you didn’t even listen.”

“You aren’t always right, Alpha. I need two word checks. Explain SPO and slove.” 

Two of my favorite Spoisms, invented by my father, David Spoey. SPO often means Solar Powered Omni. And Slove represents social/sexual love, the unification of subject and other, male and female, yin and yang, into a beautiful growing garden.

Isabella interrupted, “When the two become one…”

I responded, “Dual Integration is essential. Just know that evol is the reverse of love, and evols the reverse of Slove. Another of my favorite names for the universal organism is EVOLOVE, which represents the evolving super-symmetry experienced as the MUG of OmniSelf. Your Mind, our Universe, and my God, is captured in this palindrome for the living conflict of constrained theodicy and human freedom. MUGEVOLOVE 

Isabella groaned, “Okay, enough nonsensical Spo-words for this dinner. I hope you do a better job of explaining all this OmniSpoPhunk in your book.” 

I said, “The OmniCapitalist should be ready in a few months. I published Spociety five years ago so it is a bit dated. Have you tried reading it?”

Isabella looked sheepish. “Honestly, your book started too slow for me. I need an attention grabbing beginning. I require drama to keep me into a book. However could you give some thoughts about GooKiZon? I heard that part of your book was awesome.” Isabella checked her Omny display. She had been recording for almost an hour. 

After the triumph of ADHD insta-market culture, why spend time to read a book from cover to cover?  People want concentrated secrets. Why spend hours slogging through the whole experience?  On GooKiZon, you can read the meta-phrase summary of GooKiZon, the most popular application on Omny. GooKiZon represented the information trinity of find, analyze, and obtain- modeled after the Internet kings: Google, Wikipedia, and Amazon. The Find/Learn/Get trinity of GooKiZon remains the basic commercial process in the OmniMarket. To what do you think GooKiZon connects?

Lucy jumped down from her chair. “GooKiZon connects with OmniGrid to bring the product or service to the customer.” 

The girls started chattering about the night. Alpha went into a quick daydream. Who had time to think in a trillion dollar mind blast machine? People worked hard trying to pay the credit minimum, watching holo-vision to numb the pain. People enjoyed anything but hard thought. I enjoy challenging my mind, proving myself wrong up the powerful slope of knowledge. People want distilled Alpha Merica, a concentrated blend of futuristic anticipation. My book summarized in four sentences. Perfect in the days of information overload. We live in a just-give-me-the-keys culture. Time is of the essence. Everyone loves the OmniGrid, but few had read Spociety, and even fewer the OmniCapitalist. Why would you waste time reading other people’s dead words? I’m busy doing something else now. I write only to provide a blueprint of the fundamentals. In this hyper-visual culture, books have too many words to matter to most people. If you can read and write with character, you are a rare treasure, a biological organization capable of powerful choice.  I wrote books but I could barely find time to read them.  I, Alpha Merica, also liked the distilled codes better.

“Time for dessert! Berry medley and peach pie.”

Isabella had obviously researched Alpha’s likes on OmniSpace.

She realized the glorious history prior to the miraculous present. 

“No ice cream? What the…” Beta whispered sarcastically.

Shut up Beta. Be patient. I kicked him under the table.

I did expect ice cream from these hospitable ladies.  I knew they wouldn’t let us down. And right I was, as Isabella brought in three varieties of ice cream, chocolate, caramel-chocolate, and strawberry. I felt something warm rest on my foot, and looked down to see Isabella’s tiny poodle Jasper. He yawned widely. It’s exciting to see you too Jasper! Isabella cherished Jasper. She even bought him an AutoPharma implant, which gave Jasper regular insulin infusions. Jasper had lost his eyesight two years ago. Now he was seventeen years old, or 119 in human years.

When the plates had been licked clean, Isabella hailed the OmniBot on her Omny keypad. This special edition of the 2042 OmniBot had already sold millions within days of its release. Isabella had opted for an elegant black design with a streamlined body. Its seven spindly legs transported it quickly from the kitchen into the dining room. OmniBots purified the air, eliminated insect invaders, cleaned the house, and provided friendly on-site security, along with any other task. Her OmniBot dispensed drinks, as Isabella had customized it with an OmniBar module, a miniature version of the popular automatic bar system found in most SpoTilm establishments.

By now it was after 8 PM, and the screams of the first football weekend in Columbus permeated the girls’ house. Last night the Oval had been invaded by thousands of half-naked Buckeyes. Today was September 1^st. There was only ten days until my dad’s 70^th birthday. He had already started his vacation on Maui with the love of his wife Melinda. Our gorgeous hosts took Beta and I upstairs to get us acquainted with their Shower Spiramids. 

I triggered the sustaining liquid of life, and the universal solvent water poured from a thousand and one tiny holes. How I loved H2O.  I drifted into a meditative silence in watery flow. Isabella yelled at me to hurry.

“Coming milady.” I turned off the water and dried off. While getting dressed I marveled at the delightful cleanliness of the bathroom- the OmniBot had done a good job. It made me smile to see SpoTilm create value for others.

Both the function and aesthetic of Columbus had improved since I had last visited Columbus three years before. I had been so busy the past three years filming my movie- The OmniReality Show, publicizing my book- The OmniCapitalist, and managing our corporation- SpoTilm. Tonight I am free from productive constraints. Now I shall seize the night- Carpe Noctem. It’s high time to enjoy a weekend on this beautiful Columbus campus filled with energy and liquid (beer, blood, spit, and piss).

My mind raced in anticipation of visiting SpoTilm establishments around campus, especially the Dome Bar. I relished experiencing SpoTilm services as a regular Joe, instead of Alpha Merica, part owner of SpoTilm Incorporated.

Isabella exclaimed, “I want to go to the Dome Bar first.” The Dome bar had been designed by my friend Marija, who graduated in architecture during my years at Ohio State. 

“Okay sounds good. Should we take our OmniPods or just hire a big OmniTaxi?”

“I’d rather hire an OmniTaxi. Then we’ll ride together in the same vehicle.”

“I want to leave in ten minutes.” Isabella wrapped my eyes in a piercing gaze, her fractal gold suns dripped into a hazel ground, locking my entire modal being. My mind and body bound time into a holistic appreciation for her intensity.

Isabella flexed her biceps and growled. “I’m a time slayer!”

 “I think I’m more of a time slave,” I joked wryly.

Through her Omny control pad, now wrapped around her forearm, Isabella hailed a ten person OmniTaxi. Then she paged her roommates, probably dancing around upstairs, to the new viral Omny tune, “Your Music Moves My Soul.” Thankfully, Isabella felt confident in her piercing golden brown eyes, flawless face, brunette locks, and stunning figure. Her preparation time was mercifully short compared to other lady socialites.  I will say though, I will never understand women, if that requires a mile’s walk in high heels, with four made up face masks.

I let Isabella gel my hair to clear my forehead and add some spikes. Next I grabbed my orange Bug-Out-Bag, filled with all sorts of goodies and gadgets I might need during the night. I ate a wintergreen mint and applied bologna in all the right spots, my hair, the collar of my striking orange shirt, and on my dark blue WIA (Woven in America) jeans.

“You’re OmniTaxi is waiting at the downstairs OmniGrid-dock, Isabella.” Isabella cackled at Omny’s synthetic human speech, pleasant and motherly. 

Isabella said, “What can I say? I love my mother. She spoiled me and I can never repay her. I put my mother as the Omny default voice, she warms my heart to hear.” 

I couldn’t restrain myself. I started laughing, “Teheehee teheeheehe.  I feel the same way.” 

Through her Omny, Isabella switched her OmniBot into security mode and set the locks after we exited her ultra-modern house. 

Beta and I let the ladies enter the roomy black OmniTaxi first, attempting to buy coins of chivalrous capital currency, before we started drinking many potions of Ethan All, and scarlet or grey our faces became.

As the OmniTaxi started down Lane Avenue, I looked up through the OmniTaxi’s skylight to the last colors of the sunset fighting the night. Sol’s light wave vibrations resonated with the cone cells in my retinal holo-video sensor, known as the fovea.

We slid silently out of the dock up the entry tube. We entered the slow OmniGrid lane, reaching a pleasant speed of 40 mph. High in the distance appeared the pyramidal apex of our First Destination: SpoTilm’s DOME BAR, a magnificent dome spanning the Olentangy River behind the Horseshoe (The OSU Buckeye’s football stadium) and two infamous residential dorm towers, Lincoln and Morrill. The Dome Bar networked with the OmniGrid to optimize InfoMassEnergy transport.

Syncing her Omny with the OmniTaxi, Isabella played “Freebird,” an old classic song of my father David, who loved to play air guitar to the ending solo.

Marveling at the passing greenery, I recalled memories of utter fear speeding through the pot-hole alleys of Columbus, driving on broken glass in the same path as pedestrians and bikers, narrowly missing freegans diving through leaky green dumpsters.    I envisioned Lane Avenue with the last vestiges of the old urban transport system, dominated by internal petro-combustive engines. Constant smog, pollution, sirens, drunken druggy drivers, blind turns, one way streets, parking meters, Sly the Parking Queen- looking back at the sad past makes me appreciate the today’s optimized transport in 2042. 

Today in 2042, millions of vehicles still traverse the city, yet without friction, traffic, collisions, drugged driving, or any other inefficiency. The OmniGrid automates quality transport of any PIME quantity, along integrated tube, rail, and track systems. Transport is Civilization. Perfect transport should manifest a perfect techno-spirit civilization.

OmniGrid single-handedly doubled urban real estate. Old cities wasted space above roads and buildings. Today, that open space is now productive layers of transport, as cities installed Biomass Building Connectors (BBCs) connected to the OmniGrid. BBCs transform solar and wind energy into electricity, hydrogen, pure water, clean air, and food. The BBCs also function as automatic OmniPod parking/storage systems. The advent of automated OmniPod parking systems eliminated parking issues. The OmniGrid combines all levels of transport, weaving all peoples’ information, energy, and material onto one securely sustainable meta-system. PIME SPORT People Information Matter Energy Solar Powered Omni Renewable Transport.

Sorry about that folks. Please understand I inherited tendencies to fractal tangents from my father. Please skim neologisms or empty acronyms. I have to remember somehow. Don’t try to understand me. I barely comprehend myself. Probe thyself.

Pulling into the DOME Bar OmniPod entrance, the girls had to yank Beta and I out of the OmniTaxi, as the trip ended before Freebird. We didn’t get to hear the Lynyrd Skynyrd wailing gym teacher solo. Duh na nah nah nah duh na nah nai nah nah na… Sdlfkjlefl. Yup, that’s it.

“I made a thousand dollars during the four minute trip.” Instead of sucking in the moving Columbus sunset landscape, Beta had opted to watch advertainments on his Omny. Advertainment combines entrancing scenery with advertising. Behold the individual market power of the intelligent buyer. Corporations need consumers, which means you have to capture their attention. Stare at viral marketing in alpha state and rake in the cash. Goliath pays David to focus on his screen patterns. The wonders of OmniCapitalism never cease. 

We stepped out of the OmniTaxi on the Dome Bar OmniPod entrance dock. The private OmniPods stored themselves in the automatic parking system, while the public OmniTaxis zoomed back onto the OmniGrid.  I checked my Omny- just 9 PM. I wanted to be in bed by 3 AM. Six hours of partying, six hours of sleep until I wake up at 9 AM for the campus run with Isabella. 

I asked the group, “Have you been here before?”

Isabella laughed, “This place is infamous at Ohio State OmniVersity. We come here at least once a week. Have you been here before, Alpha?”

Sheepishly I said, “Only twice, once to open the place and once three years ago. Can you give Beta a tour then?”

Isabella smiled, “Haha. Okay I will give Beta a tour of the first floor, while you deal with the swarms of Papa Yahtzee.” Beta tugged playfully on Isabella’s elbow.

I opened the front door of the DOME Bar for the ladies, and we entered the first and biggest of three floors. The doughnut layout enhanced dancing and drinking. The infectious beat of tonight’s DJ forced my Mody into motion. We walked to the impressive center column containing the Automatic OmniBar. The customers preferring human drink service might choose the WeServe option, where the friendly Dome Bar staff brings the auto-dispensed drinks, the bartenders get tips, and customers may choose to receive the human element with their drinks. 

I preferred the UServe option. I didn’t need sticky techno-sapien fingers slowing up service. I put my finger on the sensor and my SpoTilm account displayed on the screen. I clicked on ‘Specials’ and ordered eight DOME bar specials, a delightful medley of cranberry, peach, and strawberry with top shelf vodka. 

The display screen said, “Drinks in process.”

After ten seconds, UServe station door opened, revealing a tray with eight Dome specials in clear GIA (Grown in America) plastic tumblers. Channeling my serving days, I carried the tray back to the table selected by Isabella. 

Isabella sipped the iced red liquid, “I love it. Cranberry is good for waste management issues- cleans out your urinary tract.”

Diana cringed slightly, “You are vulgar. No one wants to speak of Phusion6. Cranberry is sour, but it does have antioxidants to kill wrinkle-causing free radicals.” 

“Then let me drink yours,” Beta had chugged his already- I tend to forget he is still a young buck, only 37 years old. Can’t get enough party juice in his veins.  Diana frowned and crossed her arms as Beta grabbed her drinks. After chugging this special, he burped loudly, “Those drinks were delicious, but I want double strength next time.”

I grimaced. Sometimes Beta lost his spatial-temporal coordinates. I whispered in his ear, “Okay. Find the double strength button on the display, and get drinks for the group.”

Since the national installation of the OmniGrid’s secure transport infrastructure, and the elimination of drugged driving, Congress equalized the drinking age with 18 years. Old enough to die for the country, old enough to pour ethanol (CH3CH2OH) solutions down your gullet. Now college freshmen could drink legally at OmniBars in the great country of America, and keg beer once more floods the floors of the Halloran House, as my wise dentist Dr. Brown reminisced. Most states preserved laws prohibiting sales of deadly weapons filled with flammable date rape drugs after 9 PM. Liquor still comes in glass bottles. People still love adenosine antagonists like caffeine, dopamine agonists like nicotine, and GABA agonists like alcohol. This PharmaTrinity: Focus, Reward, and Relax.

OmniBars remain fundamental to SpoTilm’s international success. After I escaped from Katabaz’s island, to found SpoTilm at OSU, I saw huge potential in my grandfather’s automatic drink company, SPOTI. With the help of SpoTilm’s brilliant patent lawyer Ben Syzygy, we patented OmniBar in 2022, creating a huge Dome Bar on our SpoPharmic SwinDome outside Columbus. After simultaneously debuting in New York, Las Vegas, Miami, Columbus, and Chicago, SpoTilm franchised the automatic OmniBar system to spread it worldwide.  Every drinker wanted to experience the OmniBar benefits- no waiting in lines or shouting for drinks, ultimate customizability, unbeatable prices, and a futuristic feel. 

Proprietors loved the OmniBar even more. It allowed bulk liquor discounts. Reduced bartender mischief. Runs 24/7. Slashed labor costs. OmniCustomizable. Streamlines Checkout. Accelerates Turnover. Ensures Sustainable Systemic Security. The list of capital advantages stretched long, but its intuitive simplicity wins the day.

Best of all, OmniBar is self-cleaning and automatically restocking. OmniBar became a perfect passive asset. Buy a few OmniBar systems, real estate, and two managers, and vacation while the unbeatable margins and phenomenal price points channel liquidity into your account. Set it, and forget it! OmniBar orders all refills automatically.  It cleans itself constantly, remembers all past drinks by customer, and secures back-ups of itself through OmniBar’s distributed memory networks.

“Excuse me, Isabella. Pause your Omny-Recorder. My brilliant colleague Rob Nammour just sent an urgent message to my Omny.”  

I checked Rob’s message on my portable Omny screen: I’m En route at 150 mph in a OmniGrid fast lane. My ETA is midnight.  It’s 10 PM, two hours until midnight.

I used my OmniType input pad to quickly type out a deliriously happy response to Rob, giving him my location, company, and plans. I clicked ‘Send’ and Omny transmitted the message. It was ten o’clock, two hours until the leader of the Pink Hippos arrived. Rob would bring some needed fantasy.

The Omny message read: Katabaz is coming to Columbus this weekend. 

My stomach flipped as I felt my face blanch. I needed to gather myself.

“Who was that?” asked Isabella.

“Excuse me a minute.” I pretended to address SpoTilm related business on my Omny. I gave Isabella the controls and she squealed with delight, obviously a first-timer pilot.

My mind spun into confusion. I had killed him. Katabaz couldn’t be alive. Three years ago, I personally tracked Katabaz to Washington D.C., where I infiltrated his carerrorist and phascist networks, and prevented them from detonating a 10 megaton nuclear device near the Capitol. Thanks to my investigative work, the police were able to round up two thousand carerrorists. The carerrorists hated me, for they hated creators of happiness, morality, and efficiency. They loved destruction and hate. Through my work in establishing the optimizing OmniGrid, I had gained the ire of the most evil groups of carerrorists: Pheral Children, OmniCidal Techno-Monkeys, DruFoosters, entopists, and even the violet Omnarchist shadows. Most of the time, the carerrorists attacked the OmniGrid. If anything, the OmniGrid carerrorism backfired on the carerrorists, as their invidious attacks only convinced all good humans to bind together for beautiful transport, once they saw how much the carerrorists hated the freedom of the OmniGrid. What is society without lies and enemies to bind us? 

Omni-StarTech’s elemental dissociation technology transformed his bodily remains into energetic natural gas and a tiny obsidian pyramid. I drilled a hole through it, and wove it into some thread. I wore it around my ankle to always remind my syntropic omnihumanist innovist extropic SpoisT OmniSelf of the entropic essence we fight constantly. Watch out above the red lines. My body existed far away from physical equilibrium, which the sucking cold made clear, balancing my heat source with the OmniSink. Whenever I step outside into the cold, I feel nature balancing my body by sucking out my heat energy. The whole universe desires my energy. 

Another Omny message from Rob read my mind; Three years ago you killed his clone double or look-alike. Smile my friend, for the Psycho Killer Penguin army, followers of Pink Hippo, soon joins you. I come with phorce, a million warriors of light. Katabaz will not harm a hair on your head.

A master of self-deception, Katabaz stayed alive through formlessness and surprise. Perhaps that’s why he was dangerous. He fooled me as he fooled my father.  Even after all I had learned about the chaotic trickery of the man with endless evil personalities, I could not anticipate everything, especially a look alike clone. 

I checked on my companions, all occupied by their current conversations. No one seemed to notice my extended silence, except Isabella, who tapped my leg sub-table. 

I thought to myself, “Stop thinking painfully and get pumped for the Texas game tomorrow. Give this fox Isabella some attention. She deserves it- she’s in college at the OmniVersity. Might as well enjoy the momentary peace as you prepare for battle.” 

I hadn’t even emptied my first drink special, a good thing since dulled senses were deadly around the MPDeity named Katabaz Adrahem Theodix.

I decided to keep my eyes open. I noticed Beta looking over at me and I knew he had gotten Rob’s message on his Omny too. Checking into the Omny’s DomeBar’s security video systems, I confirmed Katabaz’s immediate absence.  Something told me I wouldn’t have to wait long for an encounter with the evil carerrorist armies of Katabaz.  

Lucy interrupted my thoughts, “Mr. Merica, tell me about the OmniTect. 

I started the OmniTect spiel: “Well, as I’m sure you know, people used to spread diseases indiscriminately because of ignorance and archaic testing methods.  OmniTect instantly reduces bodily health ignorance through an ultra-sensitive body substance analysis. Just pour in saliva (or any other bodily liquid) into the input funnel, wait ten minutes, and then read the results on Omny. Both portable and permanent versions of OmniTect are extremely effective. OmniTect tests for all known diseases. SpoTilm’s introduction of OmniTect has eliminated the spread of many of them.”

Sparked by this last comment Lucy chimed in, “Alpha have I a story for you! Last weekend my friend invited a good-looking stranger into her OmniPod. Good thing she remembered to test him with her portable OmniTect! They were drinking malt liquor. He attempted kissing her on the ride home, but she wouldn’t. OmniTect told her the guy had herpes.”

“Ewww, isn’t herpes a wart virus…?” The group groaned. Sexually transmitted diseases had become a thing of the past with commercial tests like OmniTect.   

Lucy continued, “Yeah, turns out the guy had Simplex I, normally the fever blister type, but still, my friend is very thankful for SpoTilm’s OmniTect portable version, and bought some for her girlfriends and myself.“ 

When OmniTect first hit the market twenty years ago, the media brewed a moral controversy, accusing SpoTilm of encouraging immoral behavior with this point-of-care (POC) medical tool, essentially a lab on a chip (LOC). Yet over the following years, knowledge eventually won over ignorance. People eventually chose against taking stupid chances when dealing with deadly diseases and their Modies, their most valued possession.

I grew tired of the pounding bass on the first floor. The space was packed around the automatic UServe center column stations. I took Isabella away from the group up to the second level of the DOME Bar. Through the clear steps smiled an unbroken hydroponic mesh of flowers: roses, lilacs, lilies, daisies, magnolias, poppies, marigolds, petunias, tulips, orchids, and carnations. The active holo-display walls highlighted today’s top eleven plays on the right wall and showcased the Canary Islands on the left wall. Out of Omny-curiosity, I switched their channels to cartoons. Wow, that was easy.  But I didn’t slow my pace of stair climbing. Even though I am a movie producer, I never was much for holo-videos.

The smaller second floor featured seven themed sections with personal service for customers who wanted beautiful people to serve them automatically poured drinks. A server handed me the list of the seven themes: Club Dance, SpuBorts, Good Grub, G Dub, SPORT (Hunergic Generation), Tropical Beach Island, and Aquaponics . 

Feeling Antsy in my Pantsy, I found my identity time split the opening of the door. Ten seconds on the second floor had already tired my mind. Time to level up. My Omny buzzed the elevator door and we rode the VIP elevator to the top level. The top level was the transparent Very Important Pyramid, capping the dome base of the DOME Bar. The VIPyramid was the apex seen far away from the Dome Bar.

It offered a great view of the O’sotangy River’s moonlight ripples. Jesse told me his microbiology class found fecal coliforms in the river. I’m not sure what those are, but they sound like a great snack, eh? OmniPlane helical spiral turbines Omny synchro-blah blah blahblahblah…”  I wasn’t making much sense at the moment. 

Then I felt my mouth watering about the succulent berries available from the amazing hydroponic gardens on the second floor. I snapped out of my hypnosis. In my head I yelled at myself, “What the heck is up with you Alpha? You’ve been fine since you ‘killed’ Katabaz three years ago. Are you getting afraid because your violent enemy isn’t dead? No, I bet you are just excited to clash thought-phorms.” Katabaz epitomized evil, and it felt great to be the good cop. The tree of amity must be watered with the sweat of heroes and the blood of criminals.

Breathe, Alpha, Breathe…

Inhale, now pause, and exhale. Faith in, Fear out, Faith in…Inhale...pause...exhale

Let’s try Eastern… Sooo Hammmm SoooHEMM Oh man, I party home. This meditative breathing from the bottom of my stomach raised my spirits. We rode the elevator downstairs into the basement level of the DOME BAR, which kissed the river surface. The riverbanks supported lush foliage, a different world than the chunky stagnant film covering the Olentangy River in my OSU student years. Through securely sustainable transportation and symbiotic integration with ecological systems, OmniGrid ensured a heavenly economic environment. OmniGrid integrates the three economic Functions: Production, Transfer, and regeneration. As Adam Sticks knows, it is all about logistics in this world of OmnErgy.

Isabella pointed to a sleek black two-seater OmniPlane. We hopped in, and after triggering the helical turbines we lifted into the air and took off north down the OT River.  

Isabella screamed and I smiled. It had been a few days since I had flown an air car. Many companies competed for my flying endorsement. Within the last year I had tested the OmniPlane, OmniMan, Flyomni, and Geomni. My favorite was the OmniPlane from OmniElectric, for its superior performance. Unlike OmniGrid clearance, obtaining an air car license required the navigation of much red tape, not to mention effective flying skills. I could tell personal airtime was not a common experience for Isabella, for her face became white as she clenched my side with both arms. The dark sky whizzed by the windshield.

Emotions of a woman. The beautiful fertile soil fielded an enigma, which resonated in the deepest crevices of my creatural nature.  The sacred mystery of creation mirrored in the cosmic reproductive cycle. Up and down we went, weaving in and out of low clouds, which reminds me of cloud drinking trees and river-dipping bats. There I go again, like my father, interrupting a story with chaotic dreams involving animated beings.  

Looking back at the huge structures of the DOME bar, I noted the Fuller-inspired tensegrital dome, using balanced tensions in the dome members. On top of the dome lay a pyramid capstone. The DOME Bar projected extensive OmniGrid connections to the rest of the city of Columbus, especially Ohio State campus. Its power generating tentacles stretched high into the sky to harvest wind flux fuel with thirty high-speed helical turbines.

“Everything looks so small from up here. The birds really do look down at us.” Isabella said.

I retorted, “It gives you a bit of perspective, eh?”

“So tell me about the creation of OTI and SpoTilm. I also want to know about Malakahari,” Isabella switched on her Omny AudioVideo recorder. 

I blushed and smiled, “Of course, I only hope I can inspire many OSU students to manifest their dreams. You sure you are up to this interview?” 

“The Lantern will beg for this scoop. Usually we interview staff or students, but you are a legendary global businessman?”

One of my talents remained handling compliments well. I put the OmniPlane into autopilot. We prepared for a Q&A session, “In his unpublished book, Manifespo, My father described SPO as representing God’s omnipresent loving light energy in the world. I borrowed SPO for the OmniReality Show, representing the three key roles of Sustainer Preserver and Operator.”

Isabella asked, “Explain SPO.”

“SPO is Solar Power Omni, representing the solar generation of life. Without the nuclear fusion inside HelioSol hydrogen-erating helium, the TerraSol system would be another dead rock stuck in a fiery furnace. Instead, life has capitalized on 3.7 billion years of SoLighted experience to re-create syntropic pico-technological organizations relying on Earth’s continual cyclical stability and elemental composition. Sporit is Solar Powered OmniGrid of Renewable Integrated Networked Transportation.” 

“So who is God then?” 

“God is the answer to the seven fundamental living quest ions: Who How What When Where Which & Why? He is EveryOne, EveryWay, EveryThing, EveryTime, EveryWhere, and EveryWhichOne EveryWhy. sHeIaM - the one from which all things come. sHe is the ultimate mind, ultimate dream, ultimate idea, and ultimate creation.”

“Okay, I’ll come back to that. Who is your father?” All my God talk scared Isabella. 

My father is David Alpha Spoey. His father is Joseph David Spoey, the first businessman in the family lineage of doctors. My Grandpa, Joseph the Grand Poopah, taught David the secrets of the universe. The Grand Poopah taught David each human artfully created their own subjective world in their Mody’s (mind+body) passionate perception. Poopah taught David the multi-leveled laws of the metaverse. In addition to respect for all beings, Poopah emphasized Communicating Artistically, Learning Scientifically, and Sustaining Value-Producing Organizations (Businesses).

Isabella asked, “Quite a Trinity. PsiArs sounds like the combination between science and art. What the heck is PsiArs?” 

I said, “You are quite right. Trinities figure essential in my personal philosophies. The first dialectic is thesis, anti-thesis, and synthesis. The first complete polygon is the universal triangulation- generation operation destruction. PsiArs represents the ideal process of Omnology. PsiArs is Omnology’s teleology.” 

Isabella: What?

Me: Grab onto my thought train. Can you picture Art as subjective Experience?

Isabella: Then all experience is Art?

Me: Yes.. 

Isabella: Okay.

Me: Can you picture (PsioNz)? Psiontists know Knowledge (PSI-ILM). 

Isabella: Sure, Science is objective knowledge of the universe.

Me: The ancient word Scientia means knowing, which relies upon differentiation, categorizing, and creative communication. Psi is the symbol for mind, and ILM is the second most common word in the Koran, representing ‘nalej’ of our divine existence. ILM also stands for Innovation & Lucidity Movement, another essential trinity.

Isabella: So let me get this straight. First we must artfully communicate unified experience. Then we scientifically categorize our experience into differentiated knowledge.

Me: Exactly. So now we have categorized experience. Yet knowledge exists only inside your mind. Categorized experience benefits no one if you fail to employ your Artful Experience and Scientific Knowledge to build wealth.

“To create sobjective value, we must integrate subjective experience and objective knowledge; combining unified experience with differentiated knowledge to produce social value for trade. Consider the following. We are subjective spiritual beings who come to the knowledge of the objective material universe through consensual integration of our subjective consciousness. So we find three values of intelligent consciousness: subjective  perceptual experience, objective memories of knowledge, and socially sobjective value-creation.  Connectively incomplete is any philosophy that denies the importance of these dynamic relations.”

Isabella recapped, “So the Omnologic Trinity is Art, Science, and PsiArs. You have art first, science second, and PsiArs as the synthesis. But what is PsiArs in layman’s terms?”

As I gazed down at the Oval through breaks in the clouds, I continued: “PsiArs consists of organized individuals working to create social value. Most working people are PsiArtists: engineers, doctors, lawyers, executives, educators, pretty much workers. We automatically experience art, consciously learn science, and work to participate in PsiArs Value Creation. Art requires Creativity, Science requires Objectivity, and PsiArs requires Customers.” 

Isabella looked perplexed. She playfully tousled my hair and shaking her head said, “I’m officially confused. Let’s put aside your waxing psycho-philosophy for the moment and get a little more down to earth. What is your personal philosophy? What guides your interaction with other people?” 

Trying to simplify it as much as possible I responded, “My personal Philosophy (Love of Wisdom) is Philanthropy (love of woMan). Actually, I gleaned the nutmeat of my personal outlook from Kirstin Turowski, a wise and beautiful movie star guru I met during my three years at OSU. On long runs along the Olentangy River, she taught me the basics of Kirstianity, which posits the necessity of complete self-love to achieve socially inclusive love. In other words, Kirstianity insists on fully loving your true self first, in order to then become capable of respecting those people who enter your experience of your OmniSelf.” 

  I paused and gazed out the window, but Isabella pried further. “It seems everywhere you go- everything goes the other way. You graduated from Ohio State in three years. How did you do it? You must have superpowers or something.” 

  “Well, I did earn a fantastic logistics and transportation degree from The Fischer Business School at OSU. I took classes in the summer to graduate in three years so that I could focus on SpoTilm. Now that I think about it I guess I do have superpowers, just as you do. We all have the supernatural powers given to us by the OmniCapitalist Eva herself. My secret is to realize the latent potential inherent in each person’s Mody (mind+body). Most people are not confident in their potential. They operate below 10% of their power. The myth is that we use 10% of our brain, but that is wrong. We use all of our brain. The parts not used simply fall weak, the same as any muscle. The difference is that the brain is the muscle of thought. I think that a lot of people’s biggest fear is that they may be powerful beyond their wildest dreams, which is why they let their brains get weak and only manifest 10% of their potential power. Unlike most people, the goal of my life is to creatively deal with all situations. By believing in my passions I have found success. Before you graduate, I will provide you  with the keys to survival in the real world after college. It won’t be some corny self-help book BS. My method uses intelligent free will to manipulate the universe by harnessing your own modal (integrated mind+body) flame.”

I sensed Isabella obviously growing bored with my metaphysical menu. I should cut down on the monologues. I stopped talking and resumed control of the OmniPlane from Omny autopilot. We had circled the air fluids of Columbus three times during our Omnologic conversation. 

As if acknowledging my recognition of her restleness she said, “Okay, to change gears a bit- do you have any enemies? I mean, to stick with the whole ‘Omni’ motif, it seems like you’re Omni-loved. At least from what I can see. But there’s got to be someone who hates you.”  

I wanted to tell her about my old enemy Katabaz and his many global phascist guerrillas, but I didn’t want to scare her with Blackberry Tales of raw Katabaz.

“Ummm…Excuse me a second…” Omny had interrupted with a message from Rob, the SpoTilm Marketing guru, and the leader of the Psycho Killer Penguin (PKP) army: I’m at the Dome Bar. Beta said you took the IsaFox for a spin. You picked a fine time to take a joy ride. Don’t forget Katabaz could be here already. How’s your head?

How could I forget? I’ve spent my life battling Katabaz’s minions, human and robotic. He claimed to have an unending source of power, which allowed him to tap into the energetic fabric of the universe. I thought I had finally defeated him in a final OmniPlane firefight, three years ago over the Statue of Liberty. Turns out I destroyed his body double, one of Katabaz’s kamikaze henchmen. 

Katabaz had tricked me once again, just as he had tricked my father David and his father Joseph. Katabaz took advantage of my biggest weakness in this generation-spanning war: integrity. I didn’t think in strategic deception and tactical lies. Powerful love generated my thought-riffs. I naturally loved everyone, for everyone is fighting a losing battle. Why did Katabaz have to mess with the top-notch business model of SpoTilm?

Merely affirming goodness could not defeat the Carerrorists. To vanquish Katabaz’s organizations, an alliance of the state must be formed in order to stamp out phascist carerrorism wherever it may lie. The OmniState must protect all citizens. I looked into Isabella’s eyes, burning brown orbs floating amidst symmetrical flesh-curves, framed by brunette locks: “Could we finish this interview later this weekend?”

“Don’t be silly! Of course we can Alpha. I know you have SpoTilm businessmen coming into town. Let’s go rejoin the group and say hi to your visiting friends. I need time to soak in the secret experience of our plane flight anyway, so that I can artfully communicate my objective knowledge and deliver sobjective value to my subjective audience at the Lantern.” 

With the help of Omny, I glided the OmniPlane gently onto the Olentangy River and returned to the basement dock below the Dome Bar. 

We walked up the stairs to the first floor, where we found the group seated at a round table in a quiet corner. Beta and Rob entertained Isabella’s six roommates with tales of traveling between SpoTilm’s floating islands..Stories of their diverse experiences entrained the girls’ attention.  

Omny buzzed with a Text Message. The message read: Yo Alpha, Its Brandon. Number two or number one, this is a big game! Get over here to the Study Abroad Bar, I need some company. The telegram was from Brandon Stromper, my college buddy, now an investment banker on the East Coast. Brandon flew into C-bus this weekend for the Texas game.

I looked at the Omny-time: almost midnight. Spotting Beta’s fiery cap and the black Dagobert locks of Rob, both bobbing above a group of seven dancing,Buckeye angels, I led them out of the Dome Bar to the OmniGrid loading dock. Unsurprisingly, Rob had already hailed us an extra-large OmniTaxi with his Omny keypad. Rob had the OmniMarket on lockdown. 

We climbed into the side door of the black OmniTaxi. I synchronized my Omny with the OmniTaxi, and we accelerated from the Dome Bar dock onto the OmniGrid lanes. Our OmniTaxi zoomed south along the river in slow speed lane at 40 mph before turning left onto 11^th avenue by the OSU campus hospital. I pressed the button to enter the medium speed lane on my Omny, and the OmniTaxi responded on cue. The campus buildings blurred as we sped past them. The OmniTaxi decelerated and came to rest at our second SpoTilm bar of the night: The Study Abroad Bar. Time of OmniGrid Travel: just over two minutes. Dear God, how I loved the OmniGrid. No Transport Worries. No stoplights. No traffic. No accidents. No pollution. No refueling. No noise. No inebriation. No road kill. No parking hassles. No road rage. No stoplights. And no friction. 

Through Omny’s OmniMarket application, I remote-ordered ten Study Abroad specials, made of pomegranate, peach, and strawberry juice, and top-shelf rum. The OmniTaxi door opened automatically once we reached the Study Abroad Bar’s dock, located just above street level. Study Abroad Bar’s simple cylindrical exterior hid a complex interior architecture.  From the outside, SAB resembled a pen pointing towards the sky. We walked across the foyer and through SAB’s entrance. Two smiling brunette greeters opened the double doors for our group. So far, our service at SpoTilm’s bars had satisfied me. Quickly I typed out a bonus to all SpoTilm managers. Omny beeped pleasantly and sent them all the good news.. 

A platinum blonde haired WeServe server greeted us with the tray filled with remote-ordered SAB specials.  Omny showed her name was Nina. I motioned for Nina to follow us to the nearby triangular table at which Brandon Stromper sat. I tipped her generously, and noticed she had an intense streak of red amidst her white blond hair.

She said, “Thanks Mr. Merica. Your presence is illuminating.” 

I said, “Call me Alpha, milady. What’s your name?”

“My name is Nina. And this is my real hair. Most people think it is dyed.” Her voice purred gently in the semicircular canals of my cochlea. 

I felt spontaneous. “Well Nina, tonight we make history and tomorrow we win the game. I think you should stop working and join our party.”

Nina blushed, her cheeks turning beet red. “Alpha, my manager Shalan is right there. He would fire me, and I need the tips here to pay for my tuition.”

I smiled. “I would fire your manager. Please…sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”

Behind me Isabella scoffed.

Stromper slapped my back, sarcastically interrupting my flirting, “Hey, Mr. Bag of Fun, it’s great to see you too! I just UServed myself a Guinness. I’m not a fan of your fruity drinks anyway. Whoa, quite the hand shake there, something on your mind?” 

I shook his hand and replied, “Good, because the tenth special is for Nina. Please make yourself comfortable my dear. You deserve a rest.” I pulled out an aero-chair for her.

With only her left hand, Nina pulled off her conservative Study Abroad Bar (SAB) attire, to reveal a terrifyingly attractive silky red two-piece.  The girls whispered scandal as Nina sat down at a point of the triangle table.

I motioned to the red-haired floor manager, Shalan, who waved frantically from across the room. Then he sent me a hospitable message on Omny: I am at your disposal, Mr. Merica. I checked out the Study Abroad Bar (SAB). I noted quite a difference between experiencing SAB in person and through holo-video simulations. The Study Abroad Bar had just opened this year. Already it enjoyed record sales. 

What the Study Abroad Bar lacked in riparian feel, it compensated with elaborate colored glass structures, lending a divine essence for direct experience. The Study Abroad Bar consisted of ten doughnut shaped floors; ten stories in a huge colored and clear glass cylinder, topped by a gold adorned conical pyramid. In contrast to the tetrahedral pyramid on top The Dome Bar. It so happens that my favorite architect from Ohio State, Marija, also designed The SAB’s architecture.

A crowd of bobbing heads swarmed around the UServe stations of the center auto-drink column. The people who wanted instant service helped themselves at UServe. Those who preferred the human element received attentive service from the WeServe staff, bringing joy to customers standing, dancing or sitting at long comfortable tables. 

Shalan advanced to the center of the floor and switched on his Omny Mic, playing the role of MC, “LADIES and GENTLEMEN, we are blessed this evening with the presence of four SpoTilm founders visiting our lovely Study Abroad Bar. Come show your gratitude to these men and their stunning student guests for building this amazing gathering place, the main reason you all enjoy Omni State University.” 

Some people had already recognized us, watching as SpoTilm executives dined with a group of seven coeds. But Shalan’s announcements catalyzed a substantial crowd. Brandon switched on his Omny’s pocket holographic projector. Soon the air came alive with white swans, green frogs, and sophisticated samurais sipping champagne. Rob contributed miniature pink hippos to the holographic dance. Then Rob added psychotic penguins wielding various blades to his pink hippo choreography.  I felt young again, visualizing old memories of my college days on Omni State campus.

Most people in Ohio weren’t used to these simple illusions. Rob and Brandon turned the show up a notch, initiating a death match between samurai monkeys on pink hippo cavalry and techno-birds wielding laser rifles. A small crowd surrounded our large triangular table. The crowd shrieked in fright, but couldn’t close their eyes to the visual illusions. Such realistic holographic projections convinced me to implicate David Bohn’s OmniOrder, to grok the OmniTruth of the one OmniSelf. Illusion is not the final truth. What isn’t true? Everything is Absolutely Occurring at this very moment, regardless of when we perceive an occurrence. In lettered papers we hold the past, in thought we navigate the present, and in active speech we create in the eternal future. Laugh. The universe chuckles along with you. Your mirror neurons trigger your brain’s motor control areas to anticipate laughter. Don’t tell me you have all the answers. These thoughts are not my own. I didn’t create any of these forms or functions. I delight in working with what I have. I am completely enmeshed in human society. I love that it will outlast me. Neuro-Linguistic Programming frames your thought-words is today’s rhetoric 101. By the time you understand and reject the sentence detailing the thesis that everything is the future, it will already be the future, and your rejections fading.

Isabella grimaced at me and motioned with her eyes. I escorted her away from the group. I noticed Nina shuffling her body position, pretending to avoid my focus. Body language speaks volumes. She liked me already. I hadn’t lost it yet. I reminded myself to call the Grand Poopah, to thank him for durable jeans.

Isabella stared into my eyes, “Beta told me about the carerrorist leader Katabaz. Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

I replied, “My dear Isabella. I didn’t want to scare you. You needn’t worry.”

I hated bringing negativity to those I loved the most, unlike my father David Spoey. He only brought negativity to those he loved. Sometimes I thought he liked to share his enjoyment of pain and Cash at Folsom. I wanted to spare her the mental anguish.

Isabella puffed her chest. “I’ll never be afraid with you.” 

My heart jumped to hear her foolish faith. Then my thoughts reversed, and I cognitively cringed at the danger which I had attracted. I imagined thousand of sea snakes ripping at a whale carcass. What a dork. It was now too late to separate. I hid my anxiety and followed Isabella. Walking casually to the elevator, Isabella chose the creativity floor with a doughnut-shaped layout, decked out in fractal spirals of black and white. Reaching the seventh floor, I marveled at its emptiness. 

We chose the room of the unconscious, lit with ultraviolet lamps and neon signs.  Isabella grabbed the knotted wooden creativity stick, and rubbed its amethyst crystal with her thumb. She smiled at me, and closed her eyes.

Isabella channeled words that were not her own, “Thank you for being here. You could be here anywhere in the world, but you choose to be with me. I appreciate that. Of the fifty thousand Omny-connected OSU students in this ArboReal OmniVersity of soul connections, of all those whose presence you could enlighten, you chose mine. For your temporal investment, I am eternally indebted. Let’s concentrate on the positive. I want you to find balance. I want you to realize the material world is ruled by the work of physical force by spo-ritual beings. Preservative genetic and environmental evolution- four billions of years of trial and error; of biological technology, until we, the techno-sapiens, the techno-angels, we shall remember the light of HelioSol as he fuels our ascent through the struggles to the stars. Physical evolution is the OmniCapitalist In-form-ation intelligently generating the eternal interaction of the Chemical Mass and Physical Omnergy, to optimize iME transport. Information must have a physical carrier. Human Evolution is optimizing PIME transport, bettering the movement of People’s InfoMassErgy.” 

Interrupting her hypnotic thought jam, I yelled, “WHO ARE YOU?”

Isabella blinked and said, “What happened?” She rubbed her head gingerly. I had broken the mind spell controlling her thoughts

I said nothing but I grabbed a long purple crystal wand from the floor. I allowed my inhalation to reach deep into my bowels, pausing meditatively before exhaling. Soo…Hamm…OM… AUM…All is One…This place in my soul, how to splash this scene in black and white from the colors of this world, could I capture this place in colored OmniText, meaning curves moving categories simultaneously frozen in the page of my mind. Our best social technology is symbols; lines and curves; geometrical forms; these human created forms; our descendents’ marks. Through physical evolution of biological technology, we have accumulated billions of years of social technology, starting from the most primitive organisms such as the virus and the bacterium, progressing through plants, reptiles, mammals, birds, primates, farmers, techno-monkeys, techno-sapiens, until today as techno-spirits, we share half of our biological firmware with relatively basic life forms. This is why we can switch organs between species in a xenograft, and they still function. We are the only species with technology, especially this symbolic language, which when combined with mathematics, can save the world through optimizing translations.  Bits of their organization inside our being, I sit and wonder about the OmniStory. I shall reveal now the secret The Eleventh Commandment, which proves the dynamic OmniGenius of Eva the OmniCapitalist. 

11. Thou Shall Never be the Same, Again.

As manifested by the behavior of this universe in this fuzzy second…the OmniSelf is constantly changing, however subtly. We maintain a stable sense of self amidst a universe of pulsing OmniSelf. The room is warm with our energy. Curly Carrie said one thing I remember, the most important relationship you have is the one with yourself, or selves, if you used the dangerous carerrorist model of formless personalities. Whence comes this sock monster?

Intrigued as I had been by her free associations, Isabella jolted me out of hypnotic mind-flow, throwing the purple wand across the dark empty room. Instead of shattering, the floor seemed to swallow it. It disintegrated into purple specks before dissolving into thin air. Isabella touched my arm gently. “Okay I’m tired of this nonsensical room.  I can’t remember a darn thing we said. It’s a good thing Omny recorded it.  Let’s go into the interview room, on the other side of the writing floor.” 

I assented, “A Splendid Idea, Madam. Let’s finish our interrupted OmniPlane conversation.” 

“WEEOOP! WEEOOP!”

My Omny wailed twice as it unleashed two targeted protective energy pulses. Isabella screamed as the pulses swiftly annihilated two incoming Bat-Bots. Their dust flecks wafted through the air, smelling like burnt plastic with a faint smell of poison.

My first thought: “Katabaz can’t be on this floor!” Omny confirmed his immediate absence with a thermal scan.

My second thought: “Katabaz knows we’re here. How kind of him to say hello. Anyone in the crowd could have tipped him off. I reviewed on Omny the body language of everyone in the place. I suspected the over-eager first floor manager, Shalan. On the holo-video memory, Omny pinpointed his nervous body language. Shalan had also called undue attention to us, purposely distracting us.”

Omny wailed again, this time alerts from Rob and B on the first floor: “We just annihilated about thirty Octopids. Get down here!” 

One of Katabaz’s favorite war-bots, Octopids resembled the black widow spider, Octopids featured deadly spinning blades on each of eight legs, a fearsome scythe arachnid.

“Isabella, it seems our interview must be postponed once again,” I lamented.

Stricken white with fear she followed me into the elevator and we zoomed toward sea level.  Never in her life had she experienced firsthand the violence of Katabaz’s global guerrillas, who called themselves carerrorists or pheral techno-monkeys. 

Exiting the elevator, Isabella ran into the arms of the other sobbing girls. No one had been seriously injured by the Octopid swarm, which had blasted through the front doors. Rob and Brandon handled the ambush like professional fighters. Shalan slipped out during the melee, rightly anticipating our suspicion. The Study Abroad Bar was Shalan’s domain. We needed to find out why he had betrayed us.  Only he could have allowed those Bat-Bots to infest the creativity floor.

While we stood debating our next move, our Omnys beeped with an urgent message from Randy Sandwise: We are knee-deep in swarms of bat-bots. I heard you were in town. Come help clean up Fratacon.

Randy Sandwise, recently returned from vacationing in Italy, managed the automatic OmniBar establishment called Fratacon, easily the most popular campus bar. 

We couldn’t risk taking an unsecured OmniTaxi. Rob and Beta volunteered to stay in the Study Abroad Bar with the seven girls, while B and myself walked to inspect Fratacon. As I trusted them with my life, I trusted them to protect Isabella and company.  

I joked as we walked out the basement side doors, under the OmniGrid dock. “Here it is folks, the final triumph of the Judeo-Christian Alliance. What a good movie.”

Brandon smiled, “You are way too cheesy Alpha. Be glad I have my OmniGun.” He lifted his tail to flash his sleek weapon capable of multiple firing options.

We walked along High Street under the OmniGrid, surrounded by pedestrians of the full moonlit night.  I pointed up at the lanes of OmniPods whizzing by overhead on the OmniGrid: “I need my armored OmniPod. Walking is too slow right now.” 

Through my Omny I hailed my OmniPod at Isabella’s house and directed it to meet us at Fratacon, now only three blocks away at the intersection of 15^th and High Street. I recalled 4 Kegs, its legendary predecessor.  Fratacon maintained the age-old tradition of Kegs and Eggs on Game Day Saturdays, without the annoying lines and ridiculous crowding caused by 4 Kegs’ pitiful layout.

Now Fratacon stood before us, resembling a seven-story fraternity house, down to the brick exterior and bay windows.  The three Greek letters shined in neon lettering: Psi Phi Delta. A butchered English translation of these three letters is to know balanced change. We knew the change agents of Katabaz could be anywhere.  Both of our Modys and Omnys focused the full power of our attention on potential problems.

I didn’t see any abnormalities on the first floor, just lots of people dancing and drinking. I saw plenty of activity at the central auto-drink dispensing columns, especially the UServe stations. I noticed many well-dressed college guys at the UServe stations, many returning with trays of colorful liquids to feed their female targets. Into my mind popped a distant memory of my father David ranting about the dangers of too much alcohol. He said it eliminated Man’s thinking faculties, and reduced us to techno-monkeys. Okay, I am glad that worthless thought train had crashed, as painful to create as it was to read. Still, I thank Eva for my unique differences, because differentials sustain this world of OmniChange.

In the throbbing mass of the first floor, I spotted Shalan’s SpoTilm shirt amid his bright red hair and spindly legs as he walked along the bar.  Obviously he wasn’t too bright. I approached closer. My Omny calibrated and shot a miniscule PharmaDart at his neck.  Shalan slumped to the floor like a bag of drunken potatoes. Those around him guffawed with ridiculous laughter. I walked over to take care of him. Omny dialed emergency services and we saw the reflections of the silent OmniGrid sirens.

Scanning Shalan’s body for K-bugs with Omny, I found one toothpick sized bug, buried in the hair on the back of his neck. I applied some local anesthetic (pain-killer) and removed the flesh colored K-chip. Poor guy, Katabaz had gotten control of him with mind-virus technology. I credited Shalan’s account with ten grand for his hard work. “Take the month off buddy, take a free GRINT over to Malakahari. I hated seeing my employees get injured on the front lines of life. I said a prayer to the OmniCapitalist to thank her for Shalan’s well being. Usually encounters with KataBastired ended in tragedy. Katabaz valued death more than life. Most of the carerrorists were OmNihilists, believing All mattered Naught. The OmNihilists believed we were merely meat golems- bags of chemicals.  The OmNihilists’ natural enemies were the People on SpoTilm’s team, who were mostly OmniScientists. OmniScientists desire to maximize their knowledge of the OmniCapitalist. We believe everything matters. The OmniScientists fight to create good information for the OmniCorporation of the OmniCapitalist. 

Brandon joined me at Shalan’s motionless Mody but breathing body. We carried Shalan outside to the OmniGrid dock, and slid him into an air-cushioned OmniTaxi, which sped him to the OSU hospital in less than two minutes.

Omny beeped: Shalan has arrived at the hospital.

I thought aloud, “Thanks Omny. I’m glad he’s okay. I knew there was a logical reason for his betrayal.”

Brandon fumed, “I want to fight Katabaz, not his death-tech. Only a coward hides behind metal spiders!” 

The first floor live band played a fusion of jazzy blues and slick electronic rock. A spinning red white and blue holographic display illustrated the band’s name, The American Exports. American Exports had absolutely nothing on my favorite college band, The American Imports. The scales of the Imports’ driving beat forced everyone on the first floor to bob their heads.

“Wait, a minute. Didn’t Randy say Fratacon was filled with k-bots? The first floors are clear.” I said checking out the entrancing beauty of scantily clad female revelers. They grouped around loud-talking heads on top of pastel-colored polo shirts. I started to dance, but Brandon slapped my forehead and motioned towards the center column elevator. It figures that Katabaz would ruin my first Columbus football vacation in three years.

As if on cue, the elevator opened to pour out black smoke, parted by the main man, Randy Sandwise.  As the smoke cleared I could see the remains of K-bots on the elevator floor. I checked the time. By now it was 2 AM, and the Fratacon scene was really heating up. Brandon grabbed Randy, “What happened up there?”

Randy obliged us with his story: “I had blocked off the VIP for cleaning and was taking a twenty minute nap when I awoke to Omny fighting K-bots, so I ran into the elevator. Then three K-bots jumped out of the elevator ceiling. I don’t get it, man! They emerged from nowhere. Katabaz must be using some kind of shielding technology. I can’t figure it out.”

My Omny interrupted Randy with a message from Beta and Rob at the Study Abroad Bar. A holo-video message, it showed a looped videotape illustrating Kroda’s capture. 

Beta’s voice spoke through Omny speakers, “Good news friends. We captured Kroda. I spotted his string-bean body sneaking into an OmniTaxi through a side OmniGrid dock. You know what that means. Where there is Kroda, there is Kupa. We tied Kroda up with unbreakable carbon fiber, and sent him to the Police station in an OmniTaxi. According to the information we extracted from Kroda, Katabaz won’t arrive to Columbus until later tomorrow. Apparently he’s been hiding on a distant island in the Indian Ocean, preparing a final deadly performance. Alpha, I’m not really worried about Kupa- she’s a has-been. However we must finish Katabaz off for good this time. He’s done enough damage to this beautiful world.” Beta paused and I could hear him breathing hard and shallow. 

Through Omny, I responded to Beta, “Splendid work, Brother. After we eliminate the remaining threat, Kupa, we must rest for the big day tomorrow. Katabaz isn’t in Columbus yet. Apparently these two hell-bound heathens are responsible for these ridiculous hordes of death-bots.” 

I sent another message. “Beta, Keep your eyes open and Omny connected. I expect that Kupa will soon expose herself. She won’t remain motionless with her lover Kroda incarcerated. I predict she will attempt to distract us, while she springs her hubby from the police tower two blocks down High Street. Let’s make our way there.” 

Omny announced the stroke of 3 AM. My how this night had whizzed by. I longed to be at Isabella’s table eating pasta instead of being stone sober on a Friday night fighting the frightful freight of Katabaz.  

B grabbed my shoulder and pointed to the front door, “My Omny shows a hijacked OmniPlane, aiming its path at these doors of Fratacon.” 

I responded, my body pumping with adrenalin. “Okay, let’s take care of the UFO quickly and advance to the police tower. I’m sure Kupa will be there. The police aren’t accustomed to such explosive evil. Around campus they deal with drunks and petty theft.” 

By this time, Randy had activated Fratacon’s security systems and cleared the first floor, securing the patrons on the upper floors. 

I heard the increasing pitch of the approaching renegade OmniPlane. It started in our vision as a small dot, flying under the OMNIGRID integrated transport dock, then crashing through the first set of shock resistant front doors. Fratacon fell under attack for the second time this hour.

A massive swarm of Octopids poured out of the ripped OmniPlane, slicing into the security doors with dark blue lasers. Randy fired Fratacon’s security pulses. The electric energy pulses didn’t affect the Octopids.

“They’ve got EMP shielding!” I yelled over the melee.

The Octopids melted a human sized hole and pushed through into the first floor. My Omny counted 42 Octopids, each one with eight spindly scythe legs. I had seen too many limbs lost through close encounters with Octopids.  These Octopids directed violet laser pulses towards Randy, Brandon and I, which splashed into the walls, dripping molten with thermal energy. We held our ground and waited until they had advanced closer to our secure positions. Once I could hear their metal blades clinking, I triggered a barrage of diamond-tipped titanium bullets from the barrels of Fratacon’s security system.

“Dcha Doch doch doch doch” The first wave of Octopids slumped to the floor, felled by bullet holes glowing red. Another wave of Octopids emerged through the door hole and melted shut Fratacon’s security barrels with their laser pulses.

I screamed, “Break out the metal zephyrs!” We withdrew our pistols and unleashed another titanium barrage, mowing down all of the remaining sinister spider-bots. I cursed the insidious entities relying on mechanical systems to fight their battles in proxy, although I understood their cowardice. I wouldn’t want to fight me either. Hell hath no fury like carerrorists hating on my business model.

Feeling courageous, I advanced into the smoldering ruins of the large OmniPlane. Everything looked clear and I thought we had earned calmness.  I grinned back at Brandon and Randy.

Suddenly a hidden trapdoor opened above my head. A stream of bat-bots emerged. As I ducked and closed my eyes, my Omny automatically fired a protective EMP shield. I could do nothing now but trust Omny’s Security Systems. Hearing successive crashes as the bat-bots collapsed to the floor, I smiled. Omny’s smart electric pulses had worked to fry these unshielded bat-bots. A Bat-Bot crashed on my head, which was fortunately protected by a carbon fiber aero-helmet. For all goodness and life, I roared from the bottom of my lungs, until I could actually hear myself amidst the ruckus.  

The noise ceased and I opened my eyes; surrounded by mechanical corpses of destructive machines; systems with no open options; entities fated to follow their malicious programming. But I have the phree will of a techno-spirit.  And so do you. You could stop reading because I substitute ‘ph’ for ‘f.’ We have a choice. Every time, I choose life, as sure as the ocean breathes salty. 

My Omny buzzed with a voice message from the police chief, Chip Curry. “Two of my men caught Kupa slinking around above our OmniGrid dock. They surprised her with our sticky-web polymer gun. Kupa now inhabits one of our cozy cells, like her boyfriend Kroda. She acted threatening and violent, thrashing and cursing in our polymer web. After that demonic show, we put her on suicide watch. Thanks for the heads up, Alpha.”

Brandon and myself walk out of the Fratacon and onto its OmniGrid dock. My armored OmniPod arrived on cue. Its doors opened and Randy and Brandon followed me in. Omny directed it back to the Study Abroad Bar. High street buildings blurred as we glided through the slow OmniGrid lane. We pulled up to the Study Abroad Bar dock, and Isabella and her roommates emerged from the front door of the huge cylinder building. They were all silent, with makeup trails on their faces. Death bots had never before attacked these innocent ladies. They saw holo-videos of carerrorist attacks, gasping at the carnage caused by death-bots. But those things happened only on holo-vision, so they thought. At the sight of Randy, Brandon and me the girls managed to stifle their fearful whimpering.

Isabella ran to rest onto my shoulders and whispered, “Let’s go home.”

We finally arrived home at 4:20 AM. Brandon, Beta, and Rob conked out, exhausted from the long day of travel and entertainment. I attempted to get some shut-eye, to no avail. My body had entered adrenalin withdrawal. My headache refused to leave my compacted cranium. I sat eyes wide open watching Isabella’s Mody expand to absorb the sacred spark. I couldn’t stop my mind from picturing the face of Katabaz Theodix, his beady eyes and thin eyebrows framed by blood-red streaked black hair. I shuddered to think of the horrific pain he had inflicted on my family throughout my life. Such evil, I wondered if absolute justice allows for absolutely cruel beings?  Katabaz’s sinister laugh invaded my head and I sprung up from the ultra comfortable hydrogel bed.  I needed fresh air to purge these negative thoughts. I walked outside to find Randy reclining on the third floor greenhouse porch in an aero-chair, gazing at the coming dawn in the east. 

I pulled an aero-chair up next to Randy and we sat in comfortable silence soaking in the predawn aura. A periodic stream of OmniPods zoomed along the OmniGrid tracks. A steady stream of Good-Pods flowed through Insta-Tubes alongside the OmniPod pathways. The OmniGrid employed no intersections, only securely separated paths in an integrated transport system. Columbus had elected to put much of its OmniGrid infrastructure aboveground.  In contrast many cities had decided to put all transport underground, to increase usable aboveground space. I enjoyed observing the beautiful transport of PIME- people’s InfoMassErgy.

I looked over at Randy, “You want some berries?”

He replied, “Yeah chief, that would hit the spot right about now.”

On my Omny I entered the GookiZon Virtual Grocery, and selected a berry medley with two ice waters. Within two minutes the Insta-Tube dock beeped for an arrival. I removed the clear container, a berry medley replete with strawberry, raspberry, blackberry, and blueberry compartments. The berry plethora sweetened the panoply of thoughts bombarding my brain. Each druplet splashed delightful juice on my tongue’s papillae. We gobbled the medley in ten minutes, and I threw the polymer container into one of the house’s trash tubes, which carried all waste to special Omni-Startech plants for molecular dissociation and productive regeneration. 

Then I remembered the huge Buckeye game. Ranked #1 in the country, the Buckeyes faced the #2 Texas Longhorns away in Austin, Texas. I considered the best place to watch the game, and at the same time prepared for Katabaz’s arrival.

“Where did you want to watch the game?” Randy asked.

Synchronicity. “Did you just read my mind Randy?” 

He just smiled cunningly, “No just your subtle expressions.” He pulled out his FraSpo, one of Omny’s competitors in the OmniPDA market.

By now Sol’s amber glow crept above Terra’s cyan horizon. I thanked God for another day of life in this wondrous playful game of swirling substances showing locally in the TerraSoLunar System, orbiting the center of the Milky Way Galaxy once every 200 million years. 

Isabella arose at 7 AM and found Randy and I snoozing on the third floor porch, surrounded by plants binding solar energy for us time binding humans. I dreamt of my father’s loving dog Verdel, my favorite space-binder. Even Isabella’s cautious tiptoes awakened my light sleep, although Randy snored quietly. 

She gently stroked my forehead. Her touch instantly rejuvenated my tired Mody. She whispered, “Let’s go running. I want to finish our interview before Katabaz arrives.”  

I liked nothing better than an early morning run, especially with an exquisite female specimen as Isabella. I felt sparks of pleasure as she scratched and pulled my hair. At that moment I realized she loved me much more than a friend. This feeling I ignored for now. I attempted to mask my realization, by sending her positive energy. She sat down on my aero-chair and reclined against my chest. In absolute truth, our relations could not remain platonic for long. Everything happens for the OmniLogical Reason. If I am meant to be with her, it shall happen.

Her brown orbs plowed my fertile eyes. I blinked and she gave me a wink. They say non-verbal communication is most of human interaction, just as most experience is subconscious. If we had to think about everything we’d go crazy. Trust me, I’ve tried. She stood up and said, “Let’s go before campus gets packed for the game. We’ll have a nutritious breakfast afterwards.”

I walked across the floor to the OmniPod parked in the OmniGrid dock. I changed quickly in the bathroom after grabbing my Ohio State sport shorts, padded socks, and ultra-light running shoes from my OmniPod trunk.  

We walked to the ground level, down the fragrant cedar stairs, surrounded by transparent walls of automated aquaponic bio-modules. These bio-modules showed a variety of fibrous plants, flowers, fruits, vegetables, small trees, and vines. Isabella unlocked the front door with her Omny and we entered the new day, our Earth still burnt by the turning wheel in the sky. We walked under her house’s OmniGrid ramp. We were on Lane Avenue, below the OmniGrid layers. I remembered when Lane Avenue had been a two-lane road filled with cars. Now Lane carried three lanes of automobile traffic in both directions, along with freight, goods, water, energy, information, and of course, trash. 

 “Run on top of the OmniGrid or under it along the ground?” Isabella asked. 

“You live here. I’ll follow your lead,” I responded.

We ran west along Lane Street towards High Street. The early solar rays soaked my skin between the fractal shades of the centurion trees along the OmniGrid.  Thinking of my frictional college memories twenty years prior, I recreated the engine noises of jam-packed traffic of urban assault vehicles floating on a rubber bubble of air, pedestrians and bikers crossing chaotically, huge trucks blocking entire lanes, buses and semis bullying the tiny urban assault vehicles, rotting squirrel carcasses, delicious smells of burning gasoline, and broken glass bottles. 

These centurion trees worked daily to suck in combustive carbon waste and pump out oxygen. The OmniGrid system had ameliorated their air-cleaning task. OmniGrid optimized the integration of essential transport (light, information, energy, goods, people, water, and refuse). The serene ethics of securely efficient transport complemented the natural camps aesthetic of The Ohio State University.
Jogging under the OmniGrid on High Street, Isabella looked over and stopped my ruminative daydreaming. She switched on her Omny recorder. “Ready to begin the interview? I wonder if we can finish this time. Let’s start at your birth. You said you were born on a remote tropical island somewhere off the coast of Venezuela. Did your father David bring your mother Melinda there for a serene birth process?”

“No.” I paused for a minute of uncomfortable silence.

“Alpha, we can skip this part.”

“No, its fine. Actually, Katabaz brought my mother there, after she was pregnant with me. I was born on September 11, 2002 on Osieta Island.”  

“Huh? I thought Katabaz wanted to kill you.” 

“He does now. One of the reasons is because I rejected his mental programming and escaped from the island with Beta, Katabaz’s blood son.”

“Wait a second, why did Katabaz kidnap your mother?”

“It was part of his scheme for revenge against the Spoey family. Before Katabaz became a carerrorist, he and my grandfather Joseph Spoey launched SpoKa, an automatic liquid company.  Unfortunately, Katabaz lost his wife and daughter in a horrific accident. The grief destroyed Katabaz’s sanity. Katabaz went on a carerrorist road trip and has been a wanted man since. After this happened in 1999, my grandfather took control of SpoKa and renamed it SPOTI, standing for Solar Powered Omni Tropical Islands. Katabaz was determined to profit from SPOTI. Katabaz escaped from prison, and kidnapped my mother Melinda and father David, with the intent of blackmailing my family. I was born on Osieta Island in 2002. Katabaz pretended to be my father. My purpose was to produce power for Katabaz, while he held us hostage.”

Isabella gasped, “Jesus! That’s pretty evil.”

“Absolutely, but here’s the catch. Katabaz raised me as his son. He removed Melinda from Osieta after I was a few weeks old.  So, I thought my mother was dead and Katabaz my father, until I escaped from Osieta in 2020. I had spent eighteen years on an island infested with Katabaz’s carerrorist henchmen, supposedly training to be a carerrorist criminal. But in my heart I knew I was no criminal, and I suspected Katabaz of treachery. Katabaz had no trouble recruiting carerrorists, promising huge profits from criminal enterprises. One of Katabaz’s servant ladies-a young blonde named Nina- finally revealed Katabaz’s patricidal deception. Easily I convinced Beta, who was born three years later than myself, to escape Osieta during one of Katabaz’s month-long absences. Neither of us had left the island. Beta and I took turns sneaking off each day to build a secret raft out of poplar trees, assembling it with strong vines and plant fiber. We had no idea how far we would have ride it, so we secretly hoarded survival supplies: two oars, lenses for solar heating, fishing pole, knives, rope, dried berries, a compass, insulation for our bodies, and a tiny solar water distiller. 

Apparently Katabaz also held my parents captive, David and Melinda, in another remote location. He threatened the Grand Poopah that he’d kill all of us, if he would not relinquish 51% ownership of SpoTilm to Khain Spoey, Katabaz’s pseudonym. Of course the Poopah gave Katabaz control of SpoTilm, because he loved his family even more than his beloved business. Poopah knew Katabaz would lose this sick power trip of his.”

I stopped talking as we approached the Lane Bridge across the Olentangy River, under the silently flowing OmniGrid layers. The breathtaking scenery triggered a feeling of weightlessness. I smelled Indian summer in the air. I heard an OmniPlane in the distance. I looked around at the early morning walkers, everyone endlessly boating through space and time. My legs seemed to float feet above the ground as my head became a part of the sky. I think Isabella felt the same thing, with her eyes wide open and legs pumping effortlessly. We ran onto the Olentangy Trail, proceeding south on the asphalt trail along the river, covered with endless birds resting on the water surface and in the draped foliage.

I started talking again, “So after we built the raft and gathered supplies, we waited patiently for Katabaz to leave the island again.  We had no way of knowing where we were located, as Katabaz forbade any communication devices on the island.  

Isabella wondered aloud, “If you didn’t have any communication devices, how did you learn as a child? Did you make your own music with coconuts and conch shells?” 

“Actually I did nothing but learn as a child. What else is there to do on a desert island but read in the palm tree shade? Katabaz had archived the OmniVersity for us, so we could learn anything our hearts and minds desired, but we couldn’t actively contact anyone outside the island. Katabaz told us that war ruined the whole planet, except for a few remote islands.  He convinced Beta and I that Osieta Island was the safest place to be, and we believed him, until Nina, our kind female caretaker, revealed Katabaz’s deception.  At the time of our escape, I was eighteen years old, and Beta fifteen.”

We had maintained a good pace on the trail and had already passed the famous Ohio State monuments- Morrill and Lincoln Towers, The Dome Bar, and the historic HorseShoe Football Stadium.  By now my skin was absorbing the incoming Phonergy (solar energy).

Isabella looked over at me. “My God Alpha, this is unbelievable. Your past is so mysterious. Keep going. Your words give me a head-rush.” 

“Sure you don’t just have a runner’s high?”

“Umm…that could be it. Keep going though, you stopped mid-escape.”

“That I can do. So Katabaz disappeared during the night, and we snuck out after our caretakers fell asleep. We walked by moonlight to our hiding place, and dragged the loaded raft into the water with a quiet splash. I watched our ripples expand outward, and I remember at that moment the synergic epiphany about the complete openness of the phuture. In that instant, the open opportunities resonated with my awareness of infinite possibilities. I could literally create phuture beauty through logical choices expressed in artistic style. In that moment arose my turbocharged optimism you might have noticed. I lost all self-doubt, and vowed with a roaring will to prevail against all obstacles in this ultimate game, seizing destiny by the jugular. I promised Beta and myself to work as a slave, command as a king, and create like a god.”

Isabella said teasingly, “Gosh Alpha you are so hard on yourself- so pessimistic. So did you want to find your true father?”

I looked her in the eyes. “Indeed, to find my true father was my first mission.” 

Suddenly I stopped and dropped to the ground, doing rapid pushups, concentrating. The world went up and down. Isabella stretched her legs. Finishing I noticed the flesh-symphony of her athletic body’s exquisite symmetry. Grateful for her beauty of her holistic being, I managed to stomach the impulse to verbally communicate the strength of my attraction. I intuited that she already knew.   

I continued the story, “Beta and I took turns paddling furiously off the island, working hard until dawn came and exhausted both of us. We gazed back at Osieta, now just a green blip on the sunny blue horizon, topped by fluffy white clouds. As the current swept us we gave up paddling and went with the oceanic flow. Beta feared we would be swept out into the open ocean. Yet I reassured him. I trusted the watery desert, a monstrous expanse to the limits of our perception. I remember recalling that water covers two-thirds of the Earth surface, as it composes two-thirds of the human body.” 

“Three days floated by. Our tiny solar distiller was producing amazing tasting water. We had finished off our berry stash. I realized we had no bait for the fishing pole. Mosquitoes emerged from tiny crevices in the raft logs. I smashed three in one hour, some on my skin, some on Beta’s. Still I was not worried, and I stopped Beta from taking a deadly plunge. I convinced him to nap with me under our insulation, to prevent Phonergic burns. We awoke to the rocking of our raft. We heard a thunderstorm rumble, heading our direction. Lightning struck nearby, blazing the dark air with sizzling plasma.”

I paused for good measure, then continued: “Suddenly, in the distance I noticed a brown speck approaching us. It came nearer.  I could tell it was a boat, flying the Venezuelan flag. We screamed at the top of our lungs, resisting the urge to jump up and down. Luckily they weren’t pirates; just humble fishermen with a GPS system. They scooped us out of the water and we watched our life-saving raft float away. As it turns out we were actually floating away from the coast. These three fishermen were transporting a full load back to the coast after over a week at sea. One of them named Sago spoke perfect English. Sago joked that to take us aboard, they would have to dump some of their catch. Beta and I immediately passed out on their small cot.” 

“So these fishermen saved your life.”

“I believe they did.”

“Anyhoo, after two days’ journey we arrived in the harbor of Caracas-the capital city of Venezuela. There Sago took us to the United States embassy. We checked GooKiZon, the Information Trinity (find-learn-get), the OmniVersity, and the Global Information System.  It took a few minutes to locate birth and death records of Alpha and Beta TheoDix. Katabaz had reported both of our births as sons of Melinda and himself. The records said that both Beta and I died in a small plane crash with Melinda TheoDix and David Spoey, whom the records referred to as our uncle. It said our last remaining family member had died recently in Columbus, buried at Union Cemetery with 90,000 other departed souls. Since our official parents were American, we were officially American citizens. The kind embassy officials booked us a one-stop flight to Columbus, Ohio. After taking us out for dinner and trying on a change of stylish clothes, we fell asleep on comfortable couches in the embassy lobby. They roused us early to catch a red-eye flight stopping in Houston, Texas on the way to Columbus, Ohio. Back to the true home of my OmniSelf.”

Isabella interrupted me. “So let me get this straight. Beta and you flew back to Columbus to find your real family, on the first of September 2020. Did you have any clue where to look? Did you have any money?”

“My intuition told me Melinda and David were my parents.  On the plane I checked GooKiZon-the Global Information System for information. It showed that David had been a Psychology professor at Ohio State until 2002. Melinda had been a student at Ohio State until 2002. Both had supposedly died in 2002 in our plane crash.  The officials had given us some cash and IDs, and had alerted the media to the arrival of two American refugees. We dodged a crowd of cameras and ducked into a taxi on route to The Ohio State University campus.” 

“Once we arrived on High Street, I needed a haircut. My long blonde hair got in the way of my face, sometimes entering my mouth while eating. And Beta definitely needed a trim, his fiery waves of red hair resting on his shoulders. Walking North down High Street, I bumped into a smiling man with spiked blonde hair and kind eyes.  I told him my search for the best haircut in town. With a warm grin he shooed us into his store, Mug ‘N Brush.  His name was Jim Moriason. As gravity tugged our severed locks to the floor, we told Jim the entire story of our captivity and escape.  He listened carefully, nodding and encouraging me to continue talking.”

“After he finished cutting our hair, before we could pay him he told us to wait a second and he disappeared into a back room. He emerged with a black leather book bound by a golden lock. The title, ‘Manifespo,’ stood out, embroidered in silver letters. Déjà vu swept over my Mody.”

“Jim looked piercingly into my eyes, and said, ‘You know for years I cut your old man’s hair. I miss him dearly. The last time I saw him, eighteen years ago, he gave me this book. He wouldn’t say anything except that I would know who to give it to. I know that person is you. I trust the syn-chroni-cities. And you have his nose.’”

“I looked at him in shock. I had so many questions. How did he know my father? Who is my mother? And what is this SPO syllable in my father’s name and book?”

‘So Melinda is my mother?’ I stuttered.

‘Yes, I believe so Alpha,’ He replied.

“I stammered, ‘I need to go read this immediately.’ As I walked out the door, Jim grabbed my shoulder and grinned. ‘If you need a place to crash, my wife Angela and I have a nice pad close by.’”

“Next Beta and I walked to the registrar in University Hall, and enrolled in classes at The Ohio State University for Autumn Quarter 2020. Just walking through campus I was struck by its natural beauty. We stopped in the middle of the grassy Oval and marveled at the elder trees guarding the picturesque place. Sitting down on a bench I flipped to the first page of Manifespo and gazed at my father’s faded picture. I did resemble him, except for his brown hair.  I figured my mother, Melinda, must have blonde hair. Under his picture, I read an intriguing handwritten caption: ‘Dedicated to the Sun of GoD, Alpha and Omega. Through ethi-logical transport of the OmniGrid, you shall manifest the OmniMarket in this OmniReality Show of the OmniPreneur.’”

I stopped the story to point at the swarm of geese along the river. Isabella chased me down the bank through the majestic birds, their black beaks gaping. They hissed at our intrusion, with sharp red tongues glistening in the morning light. 

Isabella gasped for breath after our sprint. “Alpha, your stories enthrall me. My life is small and insignificant compared to your forty years of experience. If I didn’t know you personally, I might not believe your tales. Your reality might be stranger than any fiction I’ve read.” 

I said jokingly, “That just means you need a better reading list.”

We had run for five minutes since we passed over the 3^rd Street Bridge. Downtown Columbus loomed close to the southeast. I suggested we turn back and go wake our friends at Isabella’s house for a hearty breakfast. 

Isabella broke the silence. “So you enrolled at OSU. Then you read the original Manifespo manuscript on the sunny camps. What did it say?”

“Haha, well as it was such a lengthy text, I couldn’t summarize its 420 pages. The strangest thing about the book was that Alpha Merica is the main hero. But it was written before I was born. Apparently David had a mystical experience in which he communicated with humans from the future. These short communications contained the core message of Manifespo, which these future humans promised would save the OmniMarket. In Manifespo, Alpha Merica powers the global Transport revolution for the OmniCapitalist. The Transport Revolution is the third global revolution after the Agricultural and Industrial, optimizing PIME transport on the OmniGrid.” 

Isabella turned her head to me, “What’s the simple theme of Manifespo?”

I grimaced, not knowing how to answer that question after thousands of cycles. 

“Social evolution is the optimization of people’s TIME Transport security.” 

Isabella raised her eyebrows. “Hmm…that’s a bit dry, and completely opaque.  Try rewording it in common-speak.” 

“Okay, well, then here’s another Spo-mantra. Right stuff, right place, right time.” Think complex and write easy.

“David used Manifespo to record his purpose, a revolutionary blueprint embedded in stories of fictional characters. David believed he would soon meet a tragic end, but he refused to create fear and hate with his writings. The main goal of my father was helping people to control their TIME Transport. He believed in stable bonds. Just like Rob my Lebanese friend, my father believed words to be the only magic legally accepted in the world.” 

“I spent childhood as Alpha Theodix, son of Katabaz Theodix. Jim called me Alpha Spoey, my real name. Yet Manifespo named me Alpha Merica. My auto-didacticism taught me naming is the beginning of wisdom. I autocratically decided on Alpha Spoey Merica as my auto-poetic name.” 

“So you, Alpha Spoey Merica, incorporated SpoTilm?” 

“Well, SpoTi already existed as my grandfather’s company. Under the pseudonym of Khain Spoey, Katabaz had stolen total ownership of SpoTilm from my grandfather, The Grand Poopah Joseph Spoey. But my favorite barber, Jim Moriason, hooked me up with Alizarim, dynamite attorney at law. Alizarim managed to convince the judge to nullify the ownership transfer contract. The judge also issued a warrant for the arrest of Katabaz Theodix for kidnapping and fraud. I thanked the judge for fulfilling justice. He warned me to be careful of Katabaz’s vengeance. The judge had sentenced Katabaz to the facilities of Tri Valley Behavioral Health Care (Ohio’s only prison for criminally insane) back in 1999 for his carerroristic actions on his infamous road trip.”

“So you foiled Katabaz’s business fraud and stole his son Beta. No wonder he wants to kill you.”

“Yep. But I didn’t yet tell you Beta was actually Katabaz’s blood son, born of Melinda. How did your know?”

Isabella said confidently, “You taught me to trust my intuition.” 

I raised one eyebrow and responded, “I am so proud. So the judge had returned Spoti to me. I hired Alizarim to switch Spoti to SpoTilm Incorporated. With the SpoTilm capital, I purchased a historic former fraternity house on 16^th and Indianola as the off-campus SpoTilm base. A large house with over fifty rooms and a huge front lawn stretching to Indianola, its basement connected to long underground tunnels from the 19^th century. Next I purchased a one hundred acre lot of corn and soybean farmland in the Columbus exurbs. I contracted OmniElectric Inc. to set up two 10 Megawatt wind turbines in the middle of the farm lot to harvest wind fuel. Seeing our electric meters run backwards gave me great pleasure. I had become my own electric utility company, through the constant air force producing lift on the long airfoils circling in the sky.  The gentle whoosh of the airfoils gave me great pleasure. As I sat contemplating my master plan, I formulated two goals of SpoTilm: 1)Owning Tropical Islands and 2)Optimizing PIME Go-layers. I wanted OmniCapital Transport of the OmniGrid and the OmniMarket?” 

I continued, “On the first day of classes, Beta and I set up a stage on the Oval near College Street and the Serpentine Wall, across the road from the Wexner Art Center, testing our social networking skills and recruiting intelligent and beautiful techno-spirits to help SpoTilm. Because of the media spotlight, the PapaYahtzee cameras surrounding us attracted exponentially more attention. During this day many essential SpoTilm people found us and refused to leave, skipping their classes to help us. The first person to stay was Randy Sandwise, the golden haired president of Phi Kappa Tau. Next, Rob Nammour biked over. After one minute of listening, he dedicated his PsychoKillerPenguin army of the Pink Hippo to defend all of SpoTilm’s people and property. Rob Hedge, a guitar god from The American Imports, hauled his Jimi Hendrix style amplifier onto our stage. We gave him the nod and his fingers danced his Fender fretboard, entrancing the crowd. To complement the vibrating guitar, a white van emptied the BassMan drum group onto the lawn. They added a tribal rhythm to the social music. An enthusiastic blonde named Lauren attracted by the impromptu concert volunteered to record the contacts of the interested people. Her booming voice ensured everyone knew where to sign up. In the Modys (mind+body) who came that day, we planted zaadz (seeds) about the potential of social entrepreneurship through SpoTilm. I paused, tired of hearing myself ramble.”

All this talking and running finally stole my breath, an intense exercise for my vocal cords, lungs, legs and abs.  I run once a day but do not usually deliver monologues simultaneously.

Isabella interrupted my thoughts, “What if I had been there from the start.  Instead I was entombed in my mother’s womb. I wasn’t born until October 1^st 2020.” 

I gathered my breath again: “Ah, the proverbial ‘What if,’ which is almost as perilous as the ‘Why are we here’ mushroom stumper. The eternal OmniCause is time constrains everything true. Everything happens now. Everything is OmniModern. We cannot stop the future’s arrival. You are a time binder. Your dog Naala is a space binder. And all the plants in your greenhouse are Omnergy binders. We float in the river of time. Yet we cannot choose our personal deposition date, nor stop the timeless function.” 

I paused as we had arrived back at the Lane Avenue Bridge over Olentangy River. Looking up at the integrated transport layers of OmniGrid now filled with silently speeding PIME- mostly goods and OmniPods, in preparation for the game later today. Saturdays are always busy days during football seasons in Columbus, even during away games as today.

Walking in the front door, my Omny beeped for 9 AM. Three hours until game time. I had much work to do, to prepare for the SpoTilm fiesta for the game. I sent wake up calls to my friends at Isabella’s house.

Paging the OSU President, Matt Kraner, I explained to him my plan for an Oval party sponsored by SpoTilm. I wanted to gather thousands of Buckeyes to support the team and I confirmed one million dollar credit to the OSU President. Matt talked to the Logan Marguiles, the head of the board of trustees. Logan and Matt got in touch with Chip “Elmo” Curry, the police chief. Chip guaranteed his men would maintain a secure Oval. It is tough to prepare for the master of darkness himself, Katabaz Theodix. You had no idea what the attack would entail. But the worries are a bag of lies. Just ask a kid. Gone was the overall uneasiness I felt during our battles with war-bots. I knew goodness would prevail. Within five minutes, Omny received the receipt from the transaction.

We suspended an enormous ultra-light polymer screen fifty feet in the air. We set up six speakers around the Oval perimeter. On this simple yet profound media infrastructure, all on the Oval could experience the game. The whole scene resembled a drive-in theater on the Oval, minus cars. As game time (noon Eastern time) grew near, the Oval filled to the brim with rabid scarlet and grey colored Buckeye fans. Manifespo contained the story of the 2006 match-up between #1 Ohio State and #2 Texas at the Horseshoe, in which Bucks demolished the Longhorns, after the 2005 heartbreaker in the heart of Austin, Texas.  Today thirty-four years later, the rankings and the locations were reversed, promising another joyous victory for the overachieving Buckeye away underdogs.

Sucked to the Oval under the OmniGrid layers amidst a throbbing crowd of people, the freshmen screaming OH-IO, I felt a moment of perfection, gazing upward at the intricate cloud shapes, close enough to touch. I picked a red wildflower and put it in Isabella’s hair, to the furtive looks of her subtly envious roommates.

Rob, Randy, B, Beta, and I carved out a prime location one hundred feet back from the screen to enjoy the game. Two white albino squirrels surveyed the crowd from an elder oak tree. We set up our extra-light and amazingly comfortable aero-chairs, even though we would likely be standing most of the game. 

The game began horribly. Texas ran the opening kickoff back for a touchdown. The crowd quieted for a second at the game in Austin. The team needed our support. I decided to liven things up. I spoke into my Omny microphone, my voice booming over the speakers: “In ten seconds our men will see this overflowing crowd on the stadium big screen. Let’s give them something to fight for!” 

The crowd went ecstatic and threw all sorts of things into the air.  The deafening noise and raining debris traveled at light speed to our team in the heart of Texas, to be re-created on the big screen. 

I don’t take credit for the fact that the Buckeyes turned up the heat to scorching. Our quarterback Elliot Gonzales, grandson of Tony, threw a perfect spiral down the left sideline for fifty yards. Two plays later, our star running back Roy Smith pancaked two Longhorns into the end zone for the first Buckeyes touchdown. The crowd went berserk. I couldn’t even hear myself think, so I just screamed with everyone else. After trading a touchdown in the first minutes of the game, both teams buckled down into an intense defensive battle. John Tressel paced the sideline and chewed gum methodically. They went into the locker room tied at 7 apiece. 

At halftime, I used the restroom and stretched my body. Looking around, I saw every one of my friends except Beta, his fighting fiery red locks absent from my view. 

At that instant I received an Omny message from Beta: The albino squirrels shot  me with PharmaDarts! 

I voice-typed my response into the Omny: What do you mean? 

I didn’t receive a response from Beta. Not good. I sensed Katabaz.

My Omny buzzed with a crypto-message: Alpha Theodix, I have your brother. I shall kill him, unless you turn off your Omny and come with me.

Katabaz preferred kidnapping type crimes, an Achilles heel for light warriors as myself. I vowed to put Him out of his misery if he hurt anyone.  Then I prayed for his angelic wife and daughter.

I responded: Okay, I will come with you. Leave everyone else alone. Your beef is with me.

My Omny remained silent.  

“No Alpha NO NO! Don’t go! I LOVE YOU!” Randy restrained Isabella as she shrieked in dismay and tore at my shirt. I gathered my supplies and prepared my Omny. 

Through my Omnoculars I saw Katabaz land his OmniPlane directly behind the enormous screen next to the College Road OmniGrid, with Beta slumped over in the passenger seat. The swirling air vortices produced by his helical turbine rippled the huge polymer screen. Then Katabaz let loose a laser pulse, melting an oval hole in the middle of it.  The crowd screamed in outrage. Two men, obviously outraged at the loss of their phenomenal viewing screen, sprinted towards Katabaz, obviously inebriated. They stumbled within ten yards before two purple energy pulses sizzled through the air and into their chests. Stopped dead in their tracks, their bodies smoked on the ground with too much energy.

I Omny messaged the police to stay clear. I didn’t want Beta to get killed in the confusion. I knew how to deal with Katabaz, you had to play on his level. He would kill Beta in an instant if it suited him. This was all one big game to Katabaz Theodix. If only Katabaz played football instead of deadly criminal carerrorism.

The crowd parted as I walked through. I walked calmly towards my enemy’s OmniPlane. I could see the pearly whites of Katabaz’s beady eyes, framed by his flowing black locks with red streaks.  I should ask him where he gets his hair done. Wow Alpha, I can’t believe you are joking at a time like this. You must have really lost your mind. He’s going to KILL you!

I stopped ten feet away from the OmniPlane. I stood face to face with the violet demon, locking eyes like steel. I switched off my Omny and removed it from my arm. Then I placed it on the ground. Immediately Katabaz shot a PharmaDart into my neck, probably an opiate. My vision blurred and I stumbled to the ground without muscle control. I felt a robot arm lift me into the OmniPlane. 

In the last thought wisp, I pictured the cover of my father’s golden manuscript of Manifespo, beginning with this ambiguous story called Nonsense.

Loving the Art of Nonsense: Sdlfkjlefl February 26, 2005

Being: I am wrong. I cannot help it.  My words betray the truth. Yet they contain information. Sdlfkjlefl is as “truthful” as God or love or war or death. However, Sdfkjlefl communicates less information than a dictionary word, because not many people have had personal, emotional experience about Sdlfkjlefl.  They have not taken classes about Sdlfkjlefl. It is not easy to remember, because it contains only one vowel and nine consonants. Sdlfkjlefl does not flow off your tongue.  But look closely, Sdlfkjlefl is most potent.  

Yesterday, all I called my mother on the phone, and instead of saying hi, conversing, and talking in the usual fashion, I repeated Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl. 

Through Sdlfkjlefl, I intended to convey my sense of unity, love, compassionate, and gratefulness. Through the redundant repeating of Sdlfkjlefl, I intended to symbolize the genius redundancy of our genetic code. I felt great at the start of the conversation, but by the end my loving mother had rung a psychiatrist, my father, and finally the police. After I repeated my last Sdlfkjlefl, my mother weeping, the psychiatrist phoned Paxil prescriptions, Glaxo SmithKline smiled, and the sirens wailed.  Fearful of Sdlfkjlefl ,the state threw me in jail for verbal terrorism. I had become a car-errorist, another unwitting battery powering a motor vehicle.

My father remained silent, torn in a whirlwind of mental clashing.  He believes I have a good heart. He also doesn’t want me to spend life as a psychotic, redundant, and unaccepted disciple of Sdlfkjlefl. Yet quivers in his soul(where his children playful memories are stored) gave him pause- too many unanswered questions, too much bullshit, too many heartaches, too little understand, too much homework, too many rules, not enough fun, and never being completely satisfied.  His mature mental organ took control of this childlike dissent and reminded him of his precious reality.  What will my co-workers think? What will my FAMILY say? So he stayed silent, hoping I would return from the land of Sdlfkjlefl.  Instead of joining me in the ecstasy and beauty of Sdlfkjlefl, he resigned to let his oldest son remain a scapegoat. Fear and rationality retained its stranglehold over his mind. 

Thus I learned yesterday the seeming truth of a cliché: Good intentions pave the road to hell.

Love: As I sat in the Columbus jail. I looked around at my three cellmates, as I sat in a corner chair, pleased with the clean air emanating from the corner vents.  Facing the corner on the wall parallel to me stood a shriveled, short old man with sparse and thin white hair. I could see he was shriveled as he was naked, and his ass separated with great ease every few minutes.  I ASSumed he was there for public nudity.  I directed my voice toward him, saying Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl. He withstood my positive onslaught for a few minutes until his ass contracted and he turned in a right angle, to face my corner.  His eyes were bloodshot green and lacked pupils or defined irises. His ears were clogged with soggy yellow wax. He would not look at my face, and scowled toward the ground, hungry for action but lacking motivation or strength. He growled, “I was born NAKED!” under his breath to no one in particular. I felt a strong compulsion toward this man, feeling I had found a kindred soul. I knew his name was Animus. 

Pleased to be in the company of such a beautiful being as Animus, I turned in a right angle to face the corner where stood a beautiful woman. She was clothed in a most resplendent mink fur coat with a tiny polyethylene purse of Prada. I knew her name was Prada.  I began my positive verbal assault toward Prada, who locked gazes with my vibracious eyes. I repeated Sdlfkjlefl over and over while Prada scornfully smoothed her mink coat, making sure it only halfway covered her voluptuous breasts. Prada must have been six feet tall. Her eyes were a children’s wading pool, dirty and shallow. Sdlfkjlefl had an anathemic affect on her.  Prada said, “Do you realize you are making no sense?  It is midnight. Let me get some SLEEP!” I assumed Prada was in prison for verbal terrorism too, and I was confused why Prada did not share the joy of Sdlfkjlefl- the eternal and circular nectar of universal love- in Sdlfkjlefl. With her rejoinder she turned around to face the corner.  I was relieved Prada did not want to kill me, and felt pleased to being in the company of such a blunt and beautiful being. 

For a minute I thanked being in the presence of unique manifestations of love, until I turned forty-five degrees to face the opposite corner.  Lying down smiling at the ceiling with arms at sides, a toddler gleamed with dust and dirt. I was repulsed by the sight of a dirty lonely child, and strode over to his corner and spit a huge loogy in its face. Once I came to and realized I had just spit on a baby, I ran like a scared baby back to my corner, and peaked through half-closed eyes at the dirty thing.  To my amazement he was now in a sitting yoga position, smiling widely at me.  When we locked eyes, I felt a blinding pulse of honeyed light shoot into my brain. I knew his name was Forgiveness.  Forgiveness beckoned for me to join in the middle of the room. I was afraid what Prada and Animus would think about infringing upon their open middle space with naked Forgiveness, and I didn’t want to break our bond of verbal terrorism and nakedness. 

When we met in the middle of the room, time slowed down exponentially.  Forgiveness beckoned for me to spit on him and I shook my head horizontally. Then he said, Sdlfkjlefl! I was surprised a dirty baby could recognize nonsense and repeat it, and in that state I found myself spitting on Forgiveness and smiling the biggest grin of my life. I spit until I was dry, at which point I yelled for the guard to bring me a glass of water, which he brought.  I was about to drink it but Forgiveness snapped his fingers and I poured it slowly over his head, baptizing with the pure love of the earth. Forgiveness was by now wet and almost clean.  I realized I needed a towel to dry Forgiveness off.  

There was no such absorbent fabric in the stark room, and Animus and Prada were fast asleep. Animus snored through his ass contractions, in a cute sort of way.  I was sad I could not finish the baptism of Forgiveness.

Forgiveness stared at me again and I was hit with the same blinding flash of green light.  I crept over to Prada and slyly removed her huge fur mink coat, revealing her voluptuous curves.  I started to fantasize about her enormous breasts, and wanted to turn over to check out her curvaceous ass. But Forgiveness snapped two fingers and I came back to the middle of the room with the mink fur coat of Prada, who was now naked except for her purse.  I caressed Forgiveness with the soft fur coat, using the mink’s vitality to wipe off Forgiveness’ soft body, and dropped the now dirty coat on the wet floor. I pinched Forgiveness’s nipples on a whim and for good measure, and he giggled a great gaggle. “Oooooooooo,” he screamed! I joined in with Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl, and eventually he ceased owling and chorused with me in Sdlfkjlefl.  Our nonsense rose louder and louder, exponentially…

Doubt:  The confused guard in a grey numbered uniform came to check on the ruckus and noise Forgiveness and I were making. Prada and Animus wouldn’t answer his questions so he reluctantly turned to my corner and asked what was going on.  I knew he was Confused.  Confused was the guard who put me in the cell, and he was worn out from my positive verbal assault of Sdlfkjlefl. I dropped my assault of Sdlfkjlefl for one minute, because I wanted to ask him about my new friends in the barred room.  

I queried, “Why did you put me in the best room with three unbelievably unique people?”  

Confused looked at me strangely, seeing if I was being honest.  Then Confused said, “Buddy, you are so out of it.  You keep repeating nonsense, and you think there are three other people in your room.”

I said, “Well, yes, I am saying nonsense, but these people are awesome! Where did you find these people?

Confused said, “Listen to me.  There is only one guy in here with you,” pointing to Animus sleeping in the corner. Then Confused turned ninety degrees counter-clockwise and walked away murmuring “Move Bitch, get out the way!” 

When I turned around to face my three friends, I was dismayed to discover the truth of Confused’s words.  Animus’ ass still contracted with blanket green eyes shut, but Prada and Forgiveness had disappeared.  I tried as hard as I could to find them, but they were gone.  I lied down on the soft, wet cement floor and wept silently, for my ecstatic experience had vanished via Confused’s vivacious verbal terrorism.

Hope:   When my friends bailed me out of jail, I thanked them profusely with Sdlfkjlefl.  After a long silence, they asked me why I was in the loony bin jail instead of the real jail. Remembering what had brought me to the jail in the first place, I repeated Sdlfkjlefl and another helping of Sdlfkjlefl.  My friends stared at me blankly. 

Pandy said, “Did you flip out again? Do you think you’re a ninja or something?  Don’t know you it cost us three hundred dollars to bail you out? What are you on? Did you eat moldy bread or something?”

I responded with a resounding Sdlfkjlefl!

Zen was silent except for bouts of laughter.

When we got to my house, Scott, who was driving, said “Double Damnit you are crazy.  You are outtie 5000.”  When I refused to leave without a Sdlfkjlefl, he slapped me around and threw me on the soft concrete sidewalk. I began to cuss and spit at the receding image of his car, but the image of Forgiveness popped into my head. Instantly I forgave his beautiful being, for he knows not what he does. 

Back To The Future:   Five years later, as I stood in front of millions of beautiful beings dancing and loving and forgiving each other and reveling in the beauty of life, eating full from EverEden-Forgiving gardens, I started to weep as my mother had done when I conveyed to her the wonder of Sdlfkjlefl through the differential movement of electrons.  

During the beautiful celebration of life. A beautiful reporter approached me and in carefully prepared nonsense he said, “Sdlfkjlefl Sdlfkjlefl.” I responded with a “Sdlfkjlefl.”  He said, “You cooperated such wonderful things for this world, unifying the world under the name of cooperation, peace, and evolution. You have showed the world there is no such thing as cold, only the absence of energy.  You have showed the world there is no such thing as hate, only the absence of love.  And you have liberated the world over to rejoice in their reality, to eschew prejudice and money.  Under the code of Sdlfkjlefl, you have proved the cliché that Nothing is always a good thing to say.  You have verified for millions of adoring Americans that words mean nothing.  Only thoughtful beautiful harmonious productive action matters.  God helps those who help themselves, who are also others. Not to gain status, not to get money, not to get to heaven, just because we are living and have free will and love everything. Everything else is just window dressing. And it’s not fat free! You have eliminated the restrictive notions of good and bad and transcended the entire society into a state of connectedness, where we interact with the mother earth and play in happiness like children, laughing and forgiving along the way.  You have taught us to move beyond what you feel and think and believe in Sdlfkjlefl, where all is one and good and loving.  You have taught us to accept what we are, where we have been, and determine where we as a unified whole will go. No longer is the world a zero-sum game!”

As the reporters testimony was broadcast throughout the world on every sort of medium, people left their houses and started dancing and singing and eating and lying on the grass and climbing trees.  They stopped building buildings. They stopped killing. They looked to the sky for inspiration and to each other for love. They lay down in the streets, in complete submission to gravitational force, and said, Earth, Gaia, we have found you.  We can work it out, they chimed. They began to work endlessly to strike prejudice from their minds. They strove to love and treasure emotions as evolutionary software programs lingering in our fertile minds, but not to let them control our beautiful reality. They removed the burden of their memory, and learned from it instead. Instead of the cliché: We have nothing to fear but fear itself, people now say We have NOTHING to fear!

They found schizophrenics, rapists, murderers, the depressed, the poor, and realized the truth of an often paraphrased but seldom followed cliché: As you do unto the least of you, you do unto me. It is no coincidence you are alive, it is the result of infinite action and reactions, and finally you are here to do what you can to affect positive change.  Believe in yourself, it is the gift that keeps on giving.  If you eliminate the barriers between yourself and others, you realize you can believe in everyone.  It is not a novel thought to be selfish, organisms have been delusionally selfish for billions of years.  Now through amazing communication technology our species has the ability to socially link everyone born on this earth in the diverse unity of humanness. Transcendence finally came to being in a global sense. Everyone is trying to do the best we can.  We must cooperate to overcome the problems and injustices present in our society, We will evolve to be the epitome of altruism embodied in the human spirit.

We have no choice over one thing (thus far): death.  Yet our life is a beautiful series of awesome choices which can manipulate to improve the world for everyone, and in turn having a great time. So loosen up a lot, set aside your precious beliefs, love your enemy and your neighbor, and be a force of positive change, instead of a consumer of mindless garbage. As the cliché goes, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  Imagine the possibilities and potential of unified humanity. If death is a foregone conclusion, what do you have to lose? 

What are you going to do today?

Who will you touch and love?

Where will you sit and smile?

When do you play?

How do you say? 

I love you all.

Act 1: Seamless Dreams

“Will this day ever end?” I lamented spending this beautiful Columbus Friday afternoon cooped up in my psychiatric practice. “Stop it!” I told myself. “You love helping people through their troubles. Ignore your mind’s restless complaints. Clear your mind and breathe patiently. In just an hour I’ll be reclining in my Lazy Boy experiencing the miracle. I wonder if Melinda is going to show up. She’s almost 20 minutes late”

As if on cue, the intercom crackled and Mary’s voice announced, “Dr. Spoey, your 4 o clock has arrived.”  

“Send her in.”  The expectancy and curiosity preceding any new patient surged through my being as a tall and skinny blonde woman walked nervously through the doorway. Ignoring my immediate attraction to her I put on the professional façade.

“I’m guessing you are Melinda. Good to meet you. Please take a seat. ” Melinda had called yesterday, scheduling an appointment with a frazzled voice.  

“Yes, yes Doctor Spoey. I’m sorry I’m late,” she gulped lowering herself into the green leather chair, breathlessly glancing at the green laser clock now reading 4:21 PM. 

“Please, call me David.   And don’t worry about being late, it’s been a long day and I was enjoying the break.  Are you glad it’s Friday?”  Her beauty made me nervous like no patient before, and she had just entered the room.  I hid my sweaty palms under my mahogany desk.

“I’ve had a long day as well- class, volleyball practice, breaking my account for heavy textbooks.” Melinda’s speech patterns were jagged and tense. I could feel her anxiety through the air.

“Oh I remember those days- you go to my alma mater OSU right?” I am a proud Buckeye, to this day living close to the Shoe.  

“Yeah, I’m a third year JComm major there.  I have started on the volleyball team since freshman year. I love the school- I’m so glad I decided to take the volleyball scholarship, it’s worked out so well being close to home and not having to pay tuition.”

“Well it sounds like you are a busy Buckeye.  With all the volleyball and studying, you must not have much social time.”  Staring briefly into her green shaded iris rings, I remembered my long nights of Organic Chemistry at the Science and Engineering Library.

“Oh no, see I don’t really need much sleep, so I make lots of time for my friends. My friends and family are more important than volleyball or school.” Melinda fiddled her with her light blonde hair, which surprisingly looked natural without dark roots.

“You have your priorities figured out pretty well. But how much sleep do you get on an average night?”

“Weekend or weekday?” 

“Both.”

“Umm, I’d say about 4 hours on weekends and like one or two hours on weekdays.”

“Two hours! Aren’t you tired in class and practice?” I assumed she was exaggerating.  People with sleep issues tend to undervalue the actual sleep they get. Many go into small micro-sleeps during the day, in which they pretty much zone out of consciousness.  Their brain waves get slower, start randomly firing to defragment your brain, then the brain goes into local mode, in which the neural networks up and firing during consciousness disconnect. We call this deep wave (delta) sleep.

“Oh no, almost never. Coffee helps if I ever need it.  I have to keep up my 4.0 GPA.” One could understand, in this inverted yet beautiful world, how a beautiful motivated girl would rely on a legal drug to enhance her ability to succeed- all her social influence encourage enthusiasm, energy, pseudo-arrogance, spunkiness.  I wondered if caffeine was the only drug she used.  Two hours of sleep was common for those who abused Hitler’s famous drug- methamphetamine. So is a lack of teeth, unfortunately. 

Still assumed she was exaggerating. “So you have a perfect grade point average, have lots of friends, start on a Division 1 volleyball team, and you can do this without almost any sleep? Do you ever feel overstressed?”

“ Well I’ve always been taught there is no replacement for hard work.  And I can hardly fall asleep to begin with, so I get many things done while others dreamingly imitate death.” 

“You mean sleep?” 

“Yea, my mother and I both have trouble sleeping.  She’s never been to a psychiatrist but she always says we have insomniac genes. Instead of sitting in bed trying every possible way to fall asleep, we just sit up and talk until we pass out.”

“That is very interesting. Have you ever seen a doctor for sleep issues?”

“No.”  Melinda smiled warmly at me. I could feel my eartips blush.

“Is that why you are here today?”  Sleep problems are usually treated easily with depressant medicine like Ambien or Xanax- even red wine and a cheesy turkey sandwich should do the trick.

 “Kind of.  See last night I managed to fall asleep around 4:15 AM, after a long night of barhopping.  The aftereffects of alcohol actually make me drowsy. Anyways something happened last night that hadn’t happened in years- I had a dream.”

“Do you remember it?” I experienced epic expansive dreams each night, usually recalling brief images of magnificent buildings, landscapes, and massive character conflict.

“I don’t know how well I can describe it in words.”  Melinda seemed to recess back into her mind to retrieve the memory of her dream, like an hour glass on a computer screen.

“I completely understand- in the morning after my dreams I can only piece together patches of my dreams.” Usually towards the end, woke up with a stretched out memory in my mind.

“Well I feel more that the dream seemed unlimited. It felt like my normal waking self actually experienced the entire dream. I’m visualizing it right now.”

“That sounds much like a lucid dream. Has it ever happened before?”

“Once, as a toddler after my father was killed by a drunk driver.” Melinda said this with an unusually straight face.  

“Oh my, I am so sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s alright. He never left my mind. He is a constant inspiration to my life.”

“I’m sure he is very proud of such a prodigious lady as yourself.”

“He is.” We both paused for a second, matching eye gazes.  Stop it Spoey, you aren’t supposed to eye hump your patient! Say something!

“So can you tell me about your dream?”

“I’ll try my best…” Melinda closed her eyes and slumped an inch more into the chair.

 “I am in an distant landscape.  There is conflict all around me, but I am unharmed by all projectiles.  My friend’s bodies are replaced with a constant succession of familiar faces.  I feel unlimited, infinite, powerful, full of potential.  My father speaks from the blue sky, telling me I am destined to change the world.  My friends are all spitting beer back into their mugs.  I think I have wings.  The colors are so vibrant they match nothing in reality.  There are hues of light so beautiful I cannot even describe, emanating from the ground through cracks.  Everything is alive- the trees are discussing metaphysics with Aristotle and my dog Buster is casually drinking a glass of Chardonnay with a fence post.  They are ruminating the existence of God- their voices are tones from heaven. Suddenly the entire landscape enfolds onto itself and spits out a fiery spinning ball of light.  I am part of this light, but my body is still distinctly visible.  This light holds all things and no things- I don’t know how to explain it.  It knows all and nothing.  It is the source of all but words cannot capture its essence.  The light begins to oscillate so rapidly I step back and in that instant my view expands into an infinite dimension- the light transformed itself into an infinite void of space sprinkled with tiny light children.  The ball had disappeared but its seeds were everywhere and she said, I am proud I am you.  Before I could consider the mysterious message, the light sucked me into a giant dark sink, whirling around clockwise.  In a blink, surrounded by humungous blades of grass swaying in the wind, resting on a moist ground of brown speckles, I coughed up a bit of skin.  Seeing a companion, I chirped and whistled my legs to the tune of my mind, to which my new friend chirped a reply.  Suddenly I felt a brush of wind and a huge mass began to descend upon my grassy area.  I hopped quickly out of danger and onto an immense moving entity above the grass.  I climbed secretly to the top of its head, and melted into its hair, merging with my mind. Now back in my human body, I examined my surroundings- I was in the middle of the Oval, staring at the main library.  In that moment, I knew I was God.  I rode my bike, feeling the cool breeze whistle through my hair, soaking in the late afternoon sunlight.  I found my way to the Mirror Lake fountain.  I watched the water chaotically curve an intricate fabric, weaving itself into a twinkling pattern, reflecting the light blue sky on the dynamic chemical flow. I knew then that everything else was God, too, a perfect being of creation dynamically optimizing itself each instant. And we are proud of us.”

With that, Melinda opened her eyes and smiled.  I remained silent for a minute, reflecting.  I was astonished at her dream account- it was unlike any I had heard.  However the uniqueness of her dream did not surprise me as much as her retelling. She didn’t hesitate once- the whole tale came out in a coherent flow- almost as if she experienced again while she described it.  The pantheistic ending I had heard before in manic patients, connecting everything into a divine web.   But her pantheism required no justification or equivocation- she just knew. Okay time to say something…  

“Melinda, you have quite a mind.  I must say I am greatly intrigued by your dream.”  Not to mention Melinda herself.  I felt ashamed at my unhindered attraction- I had never before felt such passion for my patient- and she had only been in the room for 20 minutes.  

“Well I must say the dream is even better in person. I finally learned the secret to existence- God is everything! You are God! I am God! This chair is God!!”  Melinda jumped out of her chair and started pacing around, examining my book collection, family pictures, etc.  I’m sitting there perplexed at her newfound motion.  Oh Jesus, how am I going to touch this bomb?

“Quite an interesting viewpoint. If I recall correctly, Baruch Spinoza believed everything was God. 

“Yeah but he’s old and gone. We are young and alive in the eternal present, NOW!” Melinda yelled the last word and walked around the desk up to my chair.  She pushed my light off the table, shattering the halogen bulb on my green carpet.  I felt compelled to stand up, somehow happy about her now violent behavior.  She smiled voraciously at me, got up on her toes to my eye level, and flared her nostrils.  

In her slight pause, I realized I had no clue what had happened in the last 10 minutes, and I had no control over the situation.  Wake up, David! This is your patient, not a beautiful vixen biting her lip gazing into your same colored eyes. 

Melinda pushed her lips onto mine, sending bolts of ecstasy spiraling to my toes.  My eartips sizzled. She pulled away, defiantly flicked her tongue, and mischievously bounced out of my office. I was stunned into shock. Not seven seconds later I saw her beautiful behind get into her ultra American green SUV, and drive out of the winding driveway. I didn’t even find out why she came, or prescribe her drugs! I think she reversed the roles. My inner child (Jady) decided I would pay her to visit again.  The whole thing happened so fast I lost myself in passionate desire for her beautiful being.  It took me until after dinner in my recliner to recover my rational self, fighting my inner child’s demands to search out and find Melinda, and processing the shocking experience.  My rational mind finally quieted my inner child with the premonition he had not seen the last of Melinda.  Good things usually happen at least twice.  She couldn’t just leave forever like that! Could She?

Act 2: Passionate Violence

“Good day, David.”  Mary greeted me the same each morning- with a sweet smile and a piping hot mug of coffee cream and sugar.  Mary was an old friend of my mother who loved to work.  She basically ran the nuts and bolts of my practice.

“Hello Mary, good weekend?”

“Fantastic! Bob and I spontaneously drove to West Virginia for some white water rafting!”  Mary loved vigorous activity even though she was over 65 years old.  I can only hope my body functions as well at that age.

“I haven’t been in years.” Spoey, don’t ask about Melinda! “Say, have you heard from Melinda? She left so quickly last Friday I didn’t get the time for a concluding report.”  Cognitive dissonance is a funny thing. 

“Funny you say that.”  Mary looked down at the schedule. Oh no, I hope Melinda didn’t tell her what happened! This could get ugly.

“Melinda is actually scheduled for an appointment today at 9 AM. She called early this morning.  Such a sweet lady that girl.  I can’t imagine why she needs therapy.”   

Boy was I glad she did! Let’s see, its 8:30 AM now- I have thirty minutes to gather myself before she comes.  I went to the restroom and tousled my brown hair, squished some Listerine for a minty fresh breath.  Finally I asked Tom if I smelled alright.  He sniffed the air: “Not half bad, but I wouldn’t get that close.”  

“Alright Tom, hit me with your best shot!”  Tom sprinkled me with a bit of cologne, 

“What was that?”

“Mania by Armani”

“Yea its cool. Thanks.” Oh great, just what I need to smell like.  If Melinda was manic with no cologne, hopefully Mania wouldn’t bite my eartips off. I tipped Tom with Abe paper and got back into my office.

The clock ticked very slowly until it reached 9 AM.  No sign of Melinda.  Then 9:10, where was she?  Maybe she got caught in rush hour traffic.  As if on cue, a powerful crash startled me from the parking lot.  I opened the blinds- sure enough Melinda’s green SUV had wrapped around the only tree in the parking lot- hopefully she wasn’t drunk.  She merrily hopped out of the totaled vehicle, like she had just won the lottery.  This should be interesting.  Starting to dial the police I hesitated- I’ll just wait until after her appointment- she could be drunk.  

Thirty seconds later Mary’s voice preceded Melinda’s entrance.  I forgot about her ridiculous crash. She wore a white tank exposing her curvy bosom surrounding her green crescent necklace.  Her lips were flushed dark red, pursed in a subtle yet defiant grin.  Looking down I noticed her leather skirt revealed her powerful athletic legs, pulsing with smooth muscle from endless exercise.  A few papers poked from the pale green Prada purse hanging on her right arm.

“Like what you see, Dr. Spoey? This girl was unbelievable- she caught me staring as soon as she walks in.  Get ahold of yourself, man!

“Um, Hi Melinda, I didn’t expect to see you so soon. I feel as if I didn’t get the chance to finish our session or prescribe you some medicine for your sleepi-“

“I don’t need any mind-numbers.  I need you!” Melinda interrupted me as she sat down in the patient chair.

“What do you mean you need me?”  Do not touch her.  Do not stare. Do not reach for her.  What was her power over my mind?

Melinda leaned close over the desk.  In a strange raspy voice, she said, “I need you to cook in my spicy stew. Ooh I know you want to be a part of my spicy stew.”

Interrupting my infringing lust with shrink thoughts for a second, I made a prediagnosis- mania with a possibility of multiple personality disorder (MPD). She was not tuned into reality.  

Melinda sprung out of the chair and leaped onto the ground next to my bookcase.  She started bawling.  “Daddy, I want my daddy!  Mommy, where’s daddy?  Did you take him from me?”  I had seen at least three personalities in the past minute- an unusually quick switch for MPDs. I decided to bring her back to Melinda.  

“Melinda, come back to me.  You are alright.  You are safe.  Your Dad is proud of you.”  This triggered another change of personality.  She seemed to waver between two, before sinking into the Melinda I first met- confident, anxious, yet collected.  

“Come sit in your chair, Melinda. What do you have in your bag?” 

“Actually, that is what I came to talk about.”

“Of course.  Can you show me some of your papers? Are they notes for school?

“Ha!! You are silly! Of course they are not notes from school.  These are my dreamnotes.  You see I dreamed each night this weekend: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. God used my body to write down part of his mind.  We had a great time.”

“Wait, I thought you said everything was God.  If that is true, how could God use your body, if he is your body?

Melinda scoffed at my doubt.  “You are quite good at criticizing, Dr. Spoey. But I have here a creative construction of the utmost importance, and I’m going to share it with the world tonight!”

No longer did her random shocking assertions catch me off guard.  “That is awesome, Melinda.  What did you write?”

“I can’t tell show you unless you promise to help me spread God’s thoughts to the world.”  What else could I say but yes?

“But I can’t promise you the world will listen. People are busy getting through each day.  Life is hard.”

“Shake my hand and promise you will help me.”

Melinda came around the desk and stuck her hand out.  I shook it warmly, and felt a tight squeeze in return.  Boy this girl was something else!

“MMM, you smell good.  Wait I recognize that scent, its M...”

The last word drowned in a pool of ferocious attack.  Melinda knocked me
down and tried to rip off my shirt, kissing all over my face and neck.  I had absolutely no time to react- she was greased lightning in her personality transition. I thought quickly, “Daddy is proud of you, Melinda.”  She instantly switched, picking herself up and running across the room.  I thought she would crash into the bookcase, but she instead took a running jump through the stained glass window.  Good thing we’re on the first floor.  Looking through the broken shards of glass, I saw a green Corvette pull up, which Melinda jumped in.  The Corvette sped off past Melinda’s SUV, giving three sustained honks of joy.

Finally Mary rushed into the room and typed in the fire code, shutting off the window alarm. “David, what on Earth just happened to that girl? I heard a loud boom outside and then 2 minutes later there was all sorts of commotion from your office…David, is that lipstick on your face.  It’s all over! Can you please tell me what is going on?”

“Honestly I have never been so unprepared in my life.  This girl is manic, switches personalities almost at will, attacked me passionately and kissed all over my face, jumped out of the window, and sped off in a green Corvette which was apparently waiting for her.”

Mary just laughed, “Quite an exciting session.  Why don’t clean off your love marks while I call the police.”

Act 3: Man’s Insanity is Heaven’s Sense 

After cleaning my face, sweeping up the broken glass, and speaking with two disbelieving policemen concerning the crash, I fell back into my chair, exhausted after only an hour of work.  Who knew psychiatry could be so stressful? Maybe I was the one who needed therapy.  After all, I almost gave in to the crazed rantings of a manic Buckeye.  Didn’t I learn how to control myself through umpteen years of schooling? The M.D. following my name means I am an authority on psychological health, but my own mind sabotages my reason.  Jady still begged for Melinda, ignoring her madness, sinking into the basin of her strange attraction, recalling only her dynamic nonlinear progressions. I contemplated taking Valium to calm my nerves.  No you don’t need that! Calm down Spoey, the ordeal is over.  Melinda is crazy, and you couldn’t help the situation.  

I collected myself, and decided this had been the wildest day of my life. In ten minutes Melinda crashed her SUV, walked in like a model, asked if she could cook me in her spicy stew, threw a catatonic crying fit on my floor, sexually assaulted my face, jumped through my stained glass windows, and sped off in a getaway Corvette.  She was either patently insane or an actress of an ecstatically methodical type.  I was glad Melinda came, I decided, but I am also glad she’s gone.  She isn’t my patient anymore.  I think she even gave Mary a fake last name- Verde.  I surmise no payment shall be forthcoming from Ms. Verde, although she gave me enough excitement to last a month.  

I decided to cancel my appointments and return home.  Mary understood and graciously disentangled the rest of my Monday.  I don’t think I was ready to help a person after what I had just gone through.  Hey, at least you weren’t attacked by a grimy old lady. Think of how good of a story this is.  Your friends will laugh their donkeys off. Shut up, Jady!

I really need to leave him at home.  

I got up from my chair and walked towards the door.  I felt a tiny bug on my right nostril edge, and itched the area profusely.  Suddenly a strange sensation swept through my nostril to the core of my being.  

MANIA! Tumbling images of light balls glass lipstick lush loving lips shattered my fragile mindcalm; too much to handle- thrusting curvy God of mania melting into grasshoppers; my muscles gave way and I fell to the floor and hit my head on a metal vent, temporarily losing consciousness.  

Brrrrring, Brrrrring. Brrrrring.  Brrr- I awoke with a jolt.  Where was I? Brrrrrring. My cell phone is ringing. Brrr… “Hello?”

“Hi David!” It was a male voice.  

“Who is this?” I was in no mood for friendly talk.

“This is News Channel 5. The Police gave us details of a mental patient escape from your compound. Can you confirm our sources?”

“I don’t have a compound- I run a outpatient practice.  Now if you will excuse me, I am going home to rest.”  

A loud screech halted my pressing the End button. “Daaaavid!!” It was NOT male.

“Who is this really?” Maybe my day’s excitement hadn’t ended yet.

“Your lips taste like FIRE!” No it couldn’t be…MELINDA!!

“How did you get this number? No one has this number except my family and friends!”

“God told me.”

“Of course. Well God tells you to calm down and stop attacking me.  If Jady didn’t have a thing for you, I’d file assault and property destruction charges.”

“Who’s Jady?”

“Nevermind!”

“But David, I was just having fun.”

“Well your fun came at my expense.”

“I sorry.  It won’t happen again.  I just needed to know for sure you are willing to work for God’s plan.”

“I’m not willing Melinda, and I really have to go. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me anymore.” 

I flipped the phone shut and ran out the door.  I needed to get out of my office before I went insane.  

I made it halfway to my car when: Brrrring.  Brrrrring.  Brrrring.  I’ll answer one more time and act with authority this time

“What do you want Melinda?”

“David, we are destined to be together in spirit and body. In order for us to connect, you must fulfill your promise to help me spread God’s plan to the world.”

“Look, I promised you that before you assaulted me and jumped out my window.  The deal is off!” 

“Promise-breaker!!”

 I cut her off and closed the phone.  A sudden revulsion swept over my head and I saw myself chucking my cell phone into the murky green office lake. It splashed near the grasshopper fountain.

I made it onto 71 North freeway and got into the fast lane on the left.  I wanted to be in my recliner ASAP, and let my worries melt into numbing agent television.  One exit away from Polaris, in my rearview mirror I saw a green blur weaving in and out of traffic, racing closer and closer.  It was a Corvette!  I must be hallucinating!  The Corvette pulled parallel to me and lowered its window.

Thank God! Just one guy in the driver seat, a bald shirtless punk with 5 visible tattoos and blaring 50 Cent.  Concentrate on the road, David.  You are losing control. You don’t know him.  Look straight ahead.

“Hello God!” The man screamed over the din of the cars. 

He’s not talking to you.  He’s not talking to you.

I looked over again, and NOOO Melinda popped up in the passenger seat, waving her arms frantically and screaming, “Pull over David.”

I ignored her and floored the pedal.  My faithful Corolla had nothing on the Corvette, and it again pulled parallel at about 95 mph.  Melinda blew me a kiss and waved as they zoomed past my car.  Their car had become a green blur again when I saw it take a sharp turn across the median and shoot past me the other way going South. 

Both shocked and unsurprised by their actions, I forgot to slow down.  

“Woop wooop wooop.” I pulled over and cursed everything holy.

“Officer, didn’t you see the green Corvette going over 100 mph? It just shot across the median.” 

“Aren’t you a psychiatrist?”  I realized I was talking to one of the cops who took my report at the office.  

“Yes, we met earlier today.” 

“I know, smartass.”

“The Corvette was harassing me.”

“Uh huh.  Sometime fishy is going on with you, Mr. Spoey.” 

“Doctor Spoey, please.”

“Don’t talk back to me boy, I’m twice your age and I don’t like being lied to. Sit tight while I write you a ticket.”

“But officer, the gree-“

“Tell it to the judge.”

Grumbling madly under my breath, I almost self-exploded waiting twenty minutes for my ticket.  I could see the cop and his partner laughing and pointing in my direction.  Resisting the urge to do anything stupid, I took the ticket and made it home into my chair.  

Removed the bulge under my butt pillow and turned it into a remote control, switching on the local news channel: “Tony Sanchez is live on Broad Street covering the unfolding situation at the Statehouse.  Apparently a terrorist has penetrated the governor’s wing, strapped with hair trigger explosives.  Negotiators are currently, um, negotiating with the terrorist, reportedly an American female.  

No, it couldn’t be.  No Fing way. 

“Let’s see if we can get a video on the situation.”

The station switches to a camera inside a room in the Statehouse, where Melinda stands stationary in the middle of frantic motion, intensely grinning like a kid on Christmas.

Nancy, the news anchor asks, “What are her demands, Tony?”

“She claims to have in her purse the typed will of God- dictated to her in four successive dreams. She has said repeatedly she needs Dr. David Spoey, her psychiatrist, to help spread the will of God throughout the world.”

Nancy: “Tony, does she realize it is very cliché to claim God justifies terrorism.” 

Tony: “We have repeatedly stressed this to her.  She will not respond to anyone but Governor Taft.”  

David hurled the remote at the television with enough force to shatter. “This is the most realistically disturbing dream I’ve ever had,” he thought to himself- even more realistic than Melinda’s pantheistic dream.  

Riiiing. Riiiing. Riiiing.  House Phone. Before it could ring again, he shattered the wall jack with his fist, effectively ending the phone attack.

Realizing he had little time for peace before the media vultures came to dine, he went upstairs and passed out in his waterbed…Ahhhh the peace of sleep. If death is the cousin of sleep, I can’t wait for my funeral. ”

Act 4: Momentum

“BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.”

“Dr. Spoey, are you in there? The governor needs your help.”

“Tell the governor and manic Melinda to go suck an egg.”

“We’re breaking down the door David.”

“Please do not.”

The door shattered and three SWAT members bust in with automatic weapons drawn, followed by a dark skinned detective.

“Dr. Spoey, your presence is required as a matter of national security.  Your refusal to come with us futile and will only result in a prison term.”

Never one to disobey those with guns, David walked past the men without speaking, got into his trusty green corolla, and drove to the Statehouse, and parked right in front.  He walked straight into the front room, where the news image duplicated itself in reality.  Melinda beamed with gratitude at his entrance, running over to him and sitting Indian style next to his feet.  David could not yet look at her.

Governor Taft walked to his side, opposite to Melinda. “Thank you for coming, David. This is a delicate matter considering Melinda’s mental health.  We are willing to submit to her reasonable demands in order to prevent tragedy. We hope you can help us through this.”

Just like your officers helped me today on the freeway. “I’ll do my best. What exactly does she want?”

“She wants to broadcast God’s will over at least three television stations nationwide.” Governor Taft’s face looked painfully twisted.

Half sarcastically I mimicked, “Are you prepared to disrupt regularly scheduling programming for something like this?” 

“Well, we spoke to the advertisers and made clear our situation.  It should only cost the state $10 million to cover the lost advertising time.  We cannot afford to lose the Statehouse to terrorism. It will show Ohio is ill prepared and insecure.  It could fuel public outrage that a blonde bombshell destroyed our state building. My chances for reelection have already been damaged by the rare coin swindle.”

I cared more for raw liver than state politics. “Okay, so what do you need me for?”

Governor Taft paused and whispered to his aide.  “Melinda wants you to read God’s Will verbatim live.”

“No way.”

“David, please reconsider.  The state is willing to reimburse you for your time, and give you a huge gold plaque in this very room, provided it still stands tomorrow.”

David thought to himself.  He realized he had little if any choice.  The guys with guns were here again.  Might as well go quietly, and hopefully stop this dream’s descent into madness.  Maybe I’ll be a famous national hero tomorrow when I wake up.

“First of all, why me?”

“Melinda wants you to read it because God told her to have you read it.  She said you would do a better job of conveying the truth of God’s will.”

Great.   

“Fine, I will read it, but only if I may speak freely before and afterwards to the nation, so people don’t think I’m the terrorist.”

“That’s fine with me. Melinda?”

Melinda jumped to her feet. “Ooooh! David I love you!  I knew you weren’t a promise breaker. The broadcast must start at 4:20 PM, and shall end at 9:11 PM.”
  “Whatever.  Just let me sleep first.”

“Of course Dr. Spoey.”  With Melinda smiling gleefully, her plan working to the T, the Governor’s aides took him to a nearby room with a small cot.  It couldn’t come close to his waterbed, but it did the trick.  He was out cold with NO dreams until three PM, when he awakened to the sound of Melinda yelping. He ran into the front room and saw an assorted group of fifty people surrounding Melinda as she pranced around the room in her supposedly explosive suit, which at the moment seemed quite insensitive, opposed to the hair trigger the news said she possessed.  Melinda had captivated these people as well with her wild mood swings, unbelievable physical attractiveness, and contagious smile. I no longer felt as helplessly vulnerable to her wicked charms.  

Taking a closer look at Melinda’s appearance, she had explosives strapped to her body in five places- ankles, thighs, and chest. She still carried her bulging green Prada purse. The combination of terror and dynamic sex objects obviously thrilled even the most mundane American.

Now I wanted attention from this carerrorist.  I yelled out. “Melinda, is your last name really Verde?”

Melinda stopped her show and skipped over to me.  “Of course, Silly Spoey.  Why would I lie to my favorite person in the whole world?”

I couldn’t respond.  I just nodded my head, took a deep breath and laughed.  Maybe that is the only thing I can do during this marvelously unnerving experience.  I cannot believe one voluptuously manic mental patient can puppet the entire Statehouse and all its inhabitants.  Reality must be stranger than fiction.

At this moment a television crew burst in a back door and starting setting up shop near a fireplace in the spacious front room.  The producer, a tall dark haired Italian, started firing off orders to his minions.  They placed two green velvet chairs in front of the fireplace- one of Melinda’s numerous demands. By the time they completed their preparation for broadcasting, the grandfather clock struck 3:30 PM.  

At that time the Governor had assembled an impromptu press conference on the Statehouse steps. Everyone in the front room sat quiet while we listened to the microphone amplify his words, watching Taft on the front room television brief the press on the situation.  Throngs of reporters waited impatiently for their turn to talk.

“Now I’m going to open up the floor for questions.” Governor Taft said.

“President Bush has repeatedly stated that the United States does not negotiate with terrorists.  By broadcasting the green angel’s words over the airwaves, aren’t you giving into her demands and encouraging further terrorists?”

“The State of Ohio feels the best way to mollify the situation is by cooperating with her requests. The New York Times printed the Unabomber’s manifesto before he was brought to justice.  Make no mistake- the dark angel shall be brought to justice without any use of violence.  Our staff has deliberated our options. Considering her mental health, we do not think that is prudent to employ violence.  

“We have heard her chosen public proxy- Dr. David Spoey- has diagnosed her with Multiple Personality Disorder.”  I didn’t remember telling anyone that- although it was now slightly obvious.   They must have called and asked Mary.  Oh well, I guess doctor-patient privacy was out the window. 

“Melinda has issues we shall help her solve after her demands are met. I will say no more on her mental health issue- she was adamant about that.”

 Thirty reporters raised their hands to ask the next question.  Governor Taft looked exhausted and ignored them, “The whole nation will see Melinda soon enough.  No need to give her any more attention than her chosen television time. By a quarter after nine, she will get her fifteen minutes of fame- and then we shall save herself from herself.  She owes no allegiance to any known terrorist groups like Al Qaida or El Data.  She is a lone ranger, driven to violent means by insomnia and mental instability. Now if you will excuse me, I must prepare for the broadcast.”

A reporter from FOX news yelled above the commotion, “Governor Taft, the nation wants to know more about the dark angel of Columbus.  The stations are disrupting paid programming from 4 PM to 10 PM tonight- that’s a lot of advertising revenue.”

The Governor returned to the microphone, “Honestly, a strange benevolent passion in her eyes convinced my heart of hearts to give her a chance. Who knows, this just might be the kick in the pants America needs.”  Taft then disappeared from the screen and came in to greet those in the front room.

“Okay people, I want everything tested and ready to go at 4 PM on the dot, so Dr. Spoey can justify himself before he reads Melinda’s Manifespo.”  

Not in a million years did Governor Taft expect to be a part of such an insane situation. But he didn’t want it to end in violence- Melinda was irrepressible- not to mention breathtakingly gorgeous.

I sat down in the green chair and checked my watch.  It read 3:58 PM.  Two minutes until showtime.  I felt extremely calm considering my lack of television experience. Presumably my previous encounters with Melinda had enhanced by stress tolerance. Okay, time for some deep breaths. 

The Italian producer yelled for quiet.  “Dr. Spoey, you are on in five, four, three, two, one, ACTION!”

Melinda squealed with delight.

“Hello to all those watching.  I am Dr. David Spoey.  I woke up this morning expecting a normal day at my psychiatric office- now I am being blackmailed into reading the dreams of my patient Melinda.  I am certain this situation will be resolved after her requests are met, and Melinda will get the help she needs.  I hope the audience does not associate myself with Melinda’s words- for she demanded I read each and every word she has typed.  You see, she believes God came to her in a dream and used her hands to type his Will which he intended myself to read to the world. It is sad in today’s world you need either money or terrorism to capture media attention, but we should ask ourselves to withhold all judgment until I read the full Manifespo, as she calls it, for she has not let anyone read the papers- and there is always the outside chance that she really did talk to God.”  You didn’t just say that.  You don’t actually believe Melinda, do you Spoey? 

  “And now, before I begin reading Manifespo, Melinda wants to say a few words from the heart.”

  This should be interesting.

By now Melinda was known to the media as the Green Angel for her green velvet skirt, piercing green eyes, and jade crescent pendant hanging from her neck. If she wasn’t headed straight to the asylum, she could have her own reality television show in Celebremica. She said, “David Spoey will add his own comments, but he must read each word of Manifespo as Willed by God through my fingers.  I hope he does indeed speak from his heart, for I am not creative- I am only the hallucinating medium through which sHeUsAll (HUA= God) speaks.  My writings are titled Manifespo, because I am manifesting the will of God through Dr. Spoey. I am not a prophet.  I am God, and so are all of you!” 

  Melinda then sat down in the green chair next to mine, smiling intently into the television.  I realized you couldn’t argue with Spinoza’s pantheism- if God contained everything, then one couldn’t be outside of sHeUsAll. Wait a minute, Spoey, you aren’t buying into her crap, are you?

Melinda handed me her stapled stack of papers.  It felt about forty pages thick. Hopefully she double-spaced it.  I took a deep breath and began… 

Act 5:  Personifying Ourselves

“After I had described my lucid dream experiences each of the four nights, I reflected on what I had learned, and formulated an introduction to capture the essence of my experience- so that all of you carrorist-haters don’t shoot me- I love America and its freedoms.  Each word is placed to trigger a certain feeling or thought in your mind.  This document really aims to blow your mind, to break the rules, to shock you into authentic thought and being, to push beyond limits. I do not mind going to prison if it means lighting a fire in a thousand hearts. 

Free Flowing Loving Chaotic Coupled Energetic Information Attracting You I AM

The Door is Open.  Awake from your Slumber.  Burn All Blocking Truthful Love.

God’s intention is simple- to spread love through the fearless flow of information.

The following text is simple that all may understand its hopeful essence.   We will not delve into divisive political, religious, or philosophical debates.  I will save deconstruction, criticism, and blame for another day.  At this point, constructive imagination shall save us.  We shall design the beautiful structure of society.  My purpose in writing is to help fulfill human destiny to progress beyond the womb of Gaia using the energy of HelioSol.  The Internet marks the beginning of a true global brain strengthening a new superpower- the will of the people.  I hope to assist the integration of Earth’s competing entities toward cooperative ventures into the cosmos. 

Today we will discover what Is, and what Should be.  Hopefully as you read or hear these words in the presently eternal HERE and NOW, you are inspired with hope and goodwill towards the future. Hopefully you begin to realize what you are in your heart of hearts: a chaotic, constrained, yet utterly free being of great potential. God is the chaotic harmony which co-creates our existence, the moderate balance between the two extremes of every continuum:  0/1; On/Off; Positive/Negative; Good/Evil; Light/Dark; Love/Apathy; Hope/Insult, Life/Death; Continuous/Discrete; Cause/Respect; Passion/Detachment; Wave/Particle; Nature/Nurture; Science/Religion; Entopy/Extropy; Male/Female; Mind/Matter; Self/Other.  I’m sure you can think of more continua.  The important part is to realize each of our beings contains the whole of each continuum: love to hate, hope to fear, male to female, etc. Our free CHOICE is what we elect to manifest. Evil is a choice. Good is a choice.  We are free moral agents, unhindered by any chains but time itself. 

The purpose of reality is value fulfillment- striving towards virtues: wisdom, truth, meaning, purpose, confidence, justice, kindness, contentment, perseverance, trust, focus, are you bored yet, concentration, passion, creativity, humor, intelligence, beauty, design, structure, happiness, consciousness, forgiveness, abundance, imagination, charity, hope, you, probably, skipped, to, here, sincerity, generosity, and the power of love.  By enhancing virtue, one strikes at the root of evil, for evil only exists as the absence of goodness- as coldness only exists as the lack of heat energy.  Shine a light on a shadow and it is no more.  True, it is not always enough to ignore evil.  Sometimes you must stamp it out with fire or force, but one’s method is the essence- stooping to fight on its level is unwise.  Do not play by the rules of evil, or you will get burned. Remember that the ultimate nature of each baby brought into the world is good.  Good societal institutions produce virtuous agents, but corrosive culture creates crappy children.  

. 

Each human experiences existence through their subjective mind, that is, we are subjective agents aware of objects inside and outside our bodies. We navigate through the objective world through our subjective brain/self/mind.  Therefore we use our subjective minds to creatively hallucinate the objective world.  Placebo ergo sum. 

If you don’t want to see a tree, you can close you eyes, but if it falls you will still be affected.   The world doesn’t turn into a crazy dream during sleep, even you might experience epic expansive landscapes in your inner space of slumber.  You can be sure the Earth is round, even though it might appear flat.  You can be sure the Sun is 93,000,000 miles away, even though it shines close above us in the sky.  Therefore, we may agree that it is often in our interest to approach the truth of objective awareness with the reality of subjective brain experience.  This approach we shall call Sobjectivism- pushing subjectivity toward the wall of objectivity. If there is anything history has taught, it has been that the illusion of knowledge stands in the way of knowledge- that hardcore belief cannot normally change the facts of reality. 

Here are premises to assist your journey through our pursuit of Sobjectivism.  I promise they will make more sense as you advance toward the end. 

One:  All is One. All has Purpose. We are always Connected to the One.  SheUsAll is loving benevolent energy pulsing creative potential. The only constant is change.

Two:  The universe is infinitely optimizing oscillating information processing through self-organizing potentials, tending towards increasing power and intelligence.

Three:  It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, although some destruction of evil must surgically proceed. Usually you can trace the evil to a few evil souls, torn by childhood abuse or lacking human empathy-a few bad peaches.  

Four:  Each living being creates its own reality through interacting with itself and The Other on different levels, dimensions, scales, experiences, and times. Reality has a powerful four dimensional nature (three in space and one of time)- therefore capturing reality in two or three dimensions on a flat or 3D screen saps its authenticity.

Five:  Humans create evil after experiencing suffering and frustration. Evil has no force by itself- it must corrupt the naturally good nature of human kind.   

Six:  We live in an infinitely abundant universe waiting for our wits to grow sharper.

Seven: Metaphor is the art of integrating seemingly unlike or dissimilar ideas into a beautiful framework.

Finally, before we delve into what IS, and what SHOULD be, we must turn out attention to the nature of language, this medium in which we think, speak, and write.  Words are ideas (memes) shared by people, connected into a logical framework by grammar and syntax.  Yet words are impotent if not followed by action or reflection. Written and spoken language are great communication mediums, like artworks, body language, images, gifts, emails, blogs, web sites, videos, photographs, hand signals, music, gardens, buildings, symbols, etc. You can find truth in almost anything- songs, seas, essays, trees, the Bible/Koran/Torah, silence, etc. We live in an age of communication, of competing information levels. Apparently my data is sticky enough for you to press on this far- I am eternally grateful and hope you continue. 

People reading Manifespo can help us refine its language so its hope may reach even more people across the globe.  I am only one person, just like you. I am busy and stressed, just like you. The interactions of three hundred million busy individuals comprise our American nation. Our Earth beholds heady 7,000,000,000 humans, alive and kicking- a world without strangers with their Universal Translators. Everyone always told me; you will never change the world.  Settle for a cushy CEO job or become a doctor like your father. Well, I’m changing your world by writing this sentence, you are changing your mind by thinking about changing the world.  The fact is, the only constant IS change. You cannot HELP changing yourself and the world.  Not everyone is called to be a hero.  But everyone changes the world merely by existing.  Realizing the constancy of change may help you subtly overcome any obstacle in your life- flowing with the current rather than drowning under the weight of your mental chains.  Learn to relish your mind’s fickleness, your peculiarities, your uniqueness- be proud of what sets you apart. If life is mostly froth and bubble, two things stand out: unyielding kindness in another’s troubles and indomitable courage in your own. 

Having read the first three introductory pages without pause, I stopped and gazed into the screen.  I motioned to the producer for a commercial break. I didn’t know how many people I spoke to at that moment- but I was sure the number was over a million.  I am going to be famous when I wake up tomorrow, without doing anything.  Now I know how Paris Hilton feels! It isn’t so bad, and fortunately Melinda’s writings were actually quite sane- although quite abstract and wishy-washy.  Her writings sounded like the typical doped out New Age All is One thought, which might be true but surely doesn’t resonate with most people’s personal experience.  If she really wanted to infect the world with her positive virus, she had to get more practical. If I handed the first three pages to the politicians, they would have a field day- she’d be in the asylum immediately.  No, the world is ultimately utilitarian- value is measured in commodities and distributed in spectacles- poets and artists are poor until after they die, when their work becomes sought by rich capitalists for their collections bought by the power of leverage and dead labor.  The rich shall be rich and the poor shall be poor- that is as old as stratified society- we must spend no time lamenting a fact of life.

 I took a drink of white grape juice. Mmm my mouth loved its sweet moisture blanket.  Maybe I should use this time to propose Spodeas. After all, Melinda did say I could talk as long as I also read her words verbatim.  Hmm..Well let’s just wait until I finish reading- I want to find out what she says and get it over with so I may return to the refuge of sleep.

“You ready, Dr. Spoey?”

“Now I am.”

“Alright, three, two, one, and ACTION!”

I turned the page and began reading.

“A wise man once said, ‘Use what is dominant in a culture to change it most quickly.’ I employ television’s dominance to constructively carrorize. But I have no interest in forcing you to listen. In fact, please close your minds- you will only be left behind. I don’t care if you hear me now or not, for you will be living in the dark until you do.  And mark my words, you WILL soon be forced to listen- by the televisions, magazines, books, friends, and family.  Take the opportunity now to turn off the television and play in your parks, argue about the Republicrats, cuddle with your lover, get a job, toss cornhole, read to your children, anything to postpone actual productive thought. I dare you to ignore the positive potential of Manifespo. Tomorrow the newspapers will be busting at the seams with the optimistic hope in God’s Will. Throw them away.  I cannot teach a woMan anything, only help them find it within themselves. It is impossible to wake a man pretending to be asleep. Keep dreaming, children, while society exponentially transcends itself.  Manifespo is a warm comforting blanket- if you don’t need its sustenance to survive- then by all means ignore my creation, burn my words, and go on your merry way.  This information is free just like your time.  

A few closing words to begin.  There is infinite truth and energy surrounding you.  A unified plurality  I ask you to put aside all assumptions and  You create the meaning.  You can choose to create evil or goodness.