Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
An old, cynical one. Growing up around Pittsburgh, PA, numerous small businesses had this framed on the wall behind the cash register (or beside the register on the counter). I don’t see it much any longer. I blame credit cards.
“Listen,” she said. “It’s very simple.”
Although she was a little girl (four, I’d guess, and then remembered, oh, yeah, she told me that before, she is four) with a high-pitched voice, her tone carried a judge’s authority.
“I’m listening,” I said, injecting a hint of jocularity.
My hint gained me an eye-roll. “We remain in a humaverse. It’s only the timeverse that’s changed.”
I conjured up more questions. She stilled them with a small rosy palm.
“Stop. I know what you’ll ask,” she said. “The humaverse is the universe as humans perceive it.”
I pursed my lips to issue another question but faced the all-powerful palm again.
Eyebrows going up, she tilted her head. She did that often, resembling a small dark-haired, white parakeet when she did. “I’ve been through this before. Let me finish. Humans have certain perceptions and observations that create agreed and accepted preconceptions about how everything is supposed to work, like gravity, time, and light, for instance. I’m talking classic physics, of course. Light travels at cee. Gravity is a force that causes bodies to be attracted to one another, as Newton expressed in the most commonly accepted explanation in this humaverse. Time flows from the past to the future and can’t be revisited. Well, it can but you need to shed preconceptions to make that work. Most people can’t.”
Her glance lashed me. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m sure that you can’t.”
“Hey, that’s — ”
“Excuse me, I’m not finished. So, that’s why it’s called the humaverse. It’s the universe as humans define it. Others can use it, though, but they’re not usually limited by the humaverse’s laws. It depends.”
“Okay.” It depended on what? “And a timeverse?”
“A timeverse is an agreed upon reality within a humaverse based on the constraints and parameters established by the results from major events of a specific time-period, as humans think it happened.”
“Like…who won world war two.”
“Everyone always brings that one up.” She sounded mystified. “That, and Jesus of Nazareth. But, yes. There are many timeverses. Some people call them alterverses, but they’re not really. To be a true alterverse, enough residual chi-energy to change humaverse rules must be present. I’m talking about classic physics, of course.”
“Of course.” Like I knew, but I didn’t want another eyeroll. If her eyes were weapons… “So…there can be more than one humaverse?”
“Of course. Now we’re wasting time. Yellow will be coming after us. Let’s go.”
Swinging around, she marched off. “Adults,” she said. I wasn’t sure if she talked to herself, me, or someone else. All were possible with this child. “They can learn if they can just forget.”
As I hurried to catch up with her, I thought with cynical amusement, I never will.
Catering to his beloved pet’s needs, he opened the back door for his ginger feline. “Go on, then. I’m telling you, it’s freezing out there. You’ll be sorry. You’ll want back in after a few minutes.”took
Despite sunshine, icy air was rushing through the open door. Tail up, the cat bounced forward with a posture that called forth a heroic flourish of trumpets.
Halfway out, the cat went still, paws caught in motion.
“In or out,” he snapped. “Come on, cold air is filling the house, and all the heat is getting out.” He could hear the furnace kicking on. “Damn it — ”
The cat chittered. An enormous scrub jaw was hopping about the icy grass. Apparently seeing the cat, it flapped it wings with an outraged screech and took flight.
The cat ran out but the bird was gone. The cat scowled back at the man with an irritated tail swish (oh, yes, cats can scowl). He was clearly saying, “I could have gotten him if you hadn’t rushed me.”
“Right,” the man replied with a dismissing snort. “That bird was bigger than you. Let me know when you want back in.” He closed the door as the cat walked away, tall up, all forgiven, searching the yard for another distraction.
I came across my house panther stretched out by the fire last night. His fur’s warm silkiness prompted me to tell him, “Aren’t you hot? You’re almost on fire.” He responded with a purring toe stretch before squeezing his eyes shut again. That kicked me to sing to him (softy, so as to not disturb the precious one), “This cat is on fire,” to the Alicia Keyes song “Girl On Fire” (2012). Speaking with the cat this morning, I remembered the song and thought it a fine theme song for our area, where a hard frost coats the ground with delicate white icing.
Cheers
The inertia of being comfortable kept me holding still
the fear of failing stopped me from courting risks
the weariness of trying sheltered me in place
the leeriness of being exposed trapped me in my space
I believe it was a dream. But —
I often enjoy oatmeal for breakfast. Berries, fruit, and nuts are frequently added for taste and nutrition.
A large bag of walnut pieces is kept in the refrigerator (so they won’t go rancid). As I pulled them out, I flashed on the bag falling open. Walnut pieces poured out.
Standing there, I didn’t recall anything like that happening to me, and thought that it was a dream. It seemed so startling real that I looked around to see if any walnuts were in the refrigerator or on the floor.
I remembered then that I’d been talking to someone as I was doing this. Music had been playing in the background. I was aware of the music and recognized it but I don’t know what it was now.
So many walnuts poured out of the back, it seemed like half of the bag had emptied. Yet, when I closed the bag, I was surprised to discover it was still almost full. But the refrigerator drawer had enough walnuts in it to fill another bag.
Whoever was with me hadn’t noticed anything going on, so I said, “Look at this. Look at all these walnuts.”
They asked, “Where’d they come from?”
Holding up the bag, I said, “From this bag. But the bag is still almost full.”
The other came over and looked. “Yeah, that’s something.”
End of dream (or memory).
I am about ninety percent certain that it was a dream. Thinking about it as I finished making my oatmeal, I chuckled to myself. Was I telling myself that I was nuttier than I realized?
###
After I typed this out, I saw a photo of a squirrel on the net. The photo triggered a fuller memory. The walnut incident was a dream last night.
After the walnuts had spilled out, etc., the dream continued. I’d gone outside. Two cats were present. One was ours and the other belonged to a neighbor. (Neither are cats that I know/recognize from life.)
My wife and I were trying to keep ourselves safe, along with the cats. To that end, the cats were kept in a large and hilly fenced yard with many trees, but the cats kept getting out. I kept asking, “How are these cats getting out?” Watching them, I’d discover a secret path or a hole in the fence and block it only to see them out there again, and discover that another secret way existed.
The neighbor’s cat then came in through a secret tunnel with a squirrel in their mouth. The squirrel was alive. I then noticed the yard had many squirrels. I concluded that the cat was going out, finding squirrels, capturing them, and bringing them in. As I realized this, I saw her coming in through another underground tunnel, carrying another squirrel in her mouth.
I told my wife what I was seeing. Then, remembering the walnuts, I rushed inside, got the bag of walnuts, and brought them out to feed the squirrels.
Dream ended.
She got that death grip on the wheel
she’s not letting go
not slowing down
no, not taking it slow
doesn’t matter where she’s going
long as she gets there fast
doesn’t care about the journey
that’s for others to make it last
she’s pouring through gaps
riding hard and leaving free
swerving around obstacles with abandon
like buildings, pedestrians, and trees
Don’t know where she’s going
that’s for others to find out
she’s moving ahead
forging past fear and doubt
we all glimpse her
wanting to see
who’s that girl with that death grip
we’re all wishing that it could be me
Located in a large office, I was busy. Although modern and plush, with room for dozens, only one other was in the office with me. We were calling into a help line. My purpose, though, was to find an assignment for someone who I could help.
I struggled with the line. Static garbled messages. I wasn’t certain if I’d reached a live voice or a recording. They couldn’t understand me, either.
After several times of calling, not frustrated, but amused and determined, I decided to go down to dispatch to talk to them in person.
Dispatch was busy and chaotic. Obviously, something had gone awry with the system. Others, thinking like me (or me, thinking like them), went down to dispatch to get assignments (and, from eavesdropping, to provide feedback and updates). Several dispatchers were busy at work behind a dark counter. Not knowing where the line began and end, or where people queued, I marched back and forth, mocking the system. That annoyed the dispatchers, who asked me to stop doing that because it distracted them. Though I found it all funny, they didn’t.
A food bar offered choices of snacks from sandwiches and salads to pizzas, hot dogs, donuts and bagels, along with coffee and tea. I checked it out but passed.
At last, with many gone, the lines finally in order, I approached the counter and was given an assignment. Pleased with that, I went off to the phones to contact the one I was supposed to help.
The dream ended.
