The Storyteller

By Valentin Matcas

When Arthur returns to Earth, alone, in a rusty escape pod after prolonged stasis, he cannot remember where he is, what caused his runaway, and who his rescuers are! In fact, he cannot remember anything, not even his name... At the strong request of his audience, he follows the emerging threads of his memory to unveil the most complex and the most extraordinary story ever told. ‘The Storyteller’ is an original book series of adventure and space exploration, which seems to answer the persistent, intriguing question present in us all: are we alone in the Universe? Are there other intelligent beings, other powerful civilizations out there? …And if they are, then who or what are they? How do they look like? How are the worlds they create and inhabit, and how different are they from us? This first book of ‘The Storyteller’ series introduces a mysterious character that people call simply Arthur, Author, or the Holly One. Here is the first part of his story, including the story of his friends and loved ones. All characters are warm and interesting, young and old, lively and full of joy. They find themselves in interesting circumstances, and they fight, struggle, succeed or fail to get out unharmed. The protagonists are either very powerful, or they are always in contact with powerful beings. At a deeper level, embedded in the web of adventure, this book explores Life, Existence and the Universe, along with the way people, societies, and civilizations behave everywhere, forming this comprehensive, everlasting world that we experience today. Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valentin Matcas
• Release date: Dec 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386268086

Valentin Matcas

Valentin Leonard Matcas, M.Ed., is a researcher, physicist, mathematician, educator, and an author of nonfiction and fiction books, including the entire “Human” book series, and he welcomes you into his creative world. He writes in his books that you should always reason independently, since you are more meaningful and more capable than entire worlds and realities. And with each book that he writes, he takes you closer to understanding yourself, life, and the entire world. Valentin Leonard Matcas is unique, intelligent, highly demanding, and highly persistent, currently living his life in a pristine environment, while researching and writing all his books. Yet everyone is unique, intelligent, highly persistent, and highly demanding, this is what defines our continuous development throughout life, and this is what adds living details to our world. And what we want the most is to see the world in its true colors, and to understand the hidden and the unreached, while understanding ourselves in life and in the world, exactly as everything is.Valentin Leonard Matcas creates the following comprehensive models in psychology, biology, physics, and sociology: model for the human needs, addictions, knowledge, reasoning, feelings, errors of reasoning, modes of life, cognitive model for the human intelligences, models for this Reality, for other realities, and for the One, model for Life in all her forms and realities, model of the human civilization, human status, and human rights, depiction of the hierarchy of intelligences, models for the human behavior, consciousness, achievement, abilities, meaning, lifestyle, health, development, condition, feelings, fulfillment, nature, limitations, dreams, creativity, and developmental patterns, model for the natural human environment and for the Fictitious Matrix, models for the conscious, subconscious, highconscious, and classconscious intelligences, true model for the human society, model and depiction of the human conspiracy, models for the Higher Laws and for the Natural Laws of the Universe, study of the Field, model for existence, study and depiction of timelines and lifelines of causality, model of the human interconnectivity, and much more. All these form a comprehensive model for humans, life, the world, and for the human place and meaning in life and in the world, so consistent and so detailed, that you can always find yourself at its core.Valentin Leonard Matcas wrote the “Human” book series in the following order: “The Human Needs”, “The Human Addictions,” “The Hierarchy of Needs,” “Stay in Shape, Lead a Healthy Life,” “The Human Origins,” The Human Society,” “The Human Conspiracy,” “The Human Mind,” “The Human Reality,” “Astral Planes and Your Other Realities,” “Life,” “The Hierarchy of Intelligences,” “The Human Intelligences,” “The Human Thoughts,” “Mental Models and Successful Ideas,” “The Human Attitudes,” “The Human Stereotypes,” “The Human Ideology,” “Modes of Life,” “The Human Development,” “Patterns of Development,” “The Human Lifestyle,” “Heal Yourself,” “The Human Civilization,” “The Human Religion and Spirituality,” “The Human Rights,” “Higher Laws,” “Natural Laws of the Universe,” “Existence,” “The Human Condition”, “Lifelines of Causality,” “The Human Behavior,” “Flat Earth,” “The Human Environment,” “The Human Meaning,” “The Human Interconnectivity,” “The Human Reasoning,” and “The Fictitious Matrix.”As an enthusiast of science fiction, Valentin Leonard Matcas writes about terrestrial and alien civilizations, about life in the Universe, the way it develops and intertwines across galaxies, about powerful beings as they control and reshape the Universe, and about normal human beings from Earth caught in this beautiful, wider, outstanding interconnectivity. Valentin Leonard Matcas creates a living, warmer, credible universe in his books, teaming with life and vibrancy on all levels of existence. Valentin Leonard Matcas wrote “The Storyteller” book series, including “The Storyteller,” “Starship Colonial,” and “Unlimited,” and “The Culling” book series, including “The Culling,” “The Dream of the Dead,” and “The Last Man on Earth.”When he is not writing, Valentin Leonard Matcas enjoys researching, hiking, swimming, kayaking, skiing, snowboarding, biking, reading, listening to music, and playing strategy videogames. You may discover all his books, videos, and articles.

Book preview

1 Cenaclum Compendium

Cathleen was cooking something. I could just feel it from the uneasiness in her movements, the tension in her whole body with the continuous tremble in her voice, and from the way she unconsciously ignored me. She had been at it since we left Borloon, and now I was about to find out what it was all about. We were alone in a military ship that we had picked up when we left Borloon, I think, we were already passing through Campberdam, enjoying both the Kare and the Agana Manit, when Cathleen suddenly grabbed my arm and pointed to a large, empty space above us, bringing it to my attention.

Cathleen, this is so beautiful! I exclaimed. It really makes me feel like...

What is it beautiful, Author? she asked like a kid, or like the adolescent she was, ignoring me. It is just awkward. Artificial... A sign that someone placed here for us to see... to read, to take notice... Can’t you see?

Someone? It has been a while since I heard that word. I stared tensely at that empty space, not moving, not breathing, all for nothing. Then I crossed my eyes and clenched my teeth hoping to see something, but nothing came. I saw nothing, but empty space all above us and beyond.

Wait, my dear Cathleen exclaimed then, turned fast around holding strongly on my left arm, grabbed the plasma fuser interface, illuminated everything above our starship with a single shot, then smiled victoriously.

By all means, I let it slip in astonishment. It is a sign indeed, placed here in the middle of nowhere where there is nothing to do, nothing to see, placed here by... by this somebody of yours. It’s just the way you said it, Cathleen...

I turned fast to Cathleen and continued. "Not that I don’t like Campberdam with both Kare and Agana...

Cathleen did not care of my words, and started to read the sign out loud for both of us, in her childish voice, moving slightly her tiny red lips up and down:

Prosatorae Cenaclum Compendium. Prestigium Lecturae Povestiri. Harkaana Benevenidos Toati Povestitorum, she finished reading, then she exclaimed with all the strength and motivation she had: I want that, Author! Let’s go there! I want to be there! I want to listen to it all!

Then she turned suddenly towards me, she took me tightly in her arms and said very fast, while the very air of her words blew a cool breeze on my face.

Oh Author, can we go? Can we please? Please! Please! Please!... I love you!

Was this it? This was what Cathleen had been cooking all this time making me so nervous? It had to be more! She could have placed the sign here herself. It was the way she nagged, the way she had invested so much of her little effort for what I found to be such an insignificant thing, but was it? So insignificant? She was making me smile, my heart felt light with admiration, I watched her beautiful, imploring eyes and I loved her more than ever! I took her little chin in two of my fingers and shook it lightly and dearly.

Cenaclum Compendium is for beings to go there and listen to stories, Cathleen, not for people like us! We are the ones who tell the stories, remember? See the difference? We are the storytellers, they are the story-listeners.

These tell Flearian stories! I want to hear them all, Author! Please!

It’s for Flearians, Cathleen, not for us! They wouldn’t even let us in... We are but forgotten memories in this empty world of theirs now!

And why not, Author? Why not, she asked at once with all the strength she had: the harsh tone of her voice, her tense, inquiring black eyes and the crisp posture of her body. Why not the Flearians? We go everywhere Author, we stop everywhere, in every little, isolated culture we can find, and this is exactly what we do: we tell stories, and later on, during the feast for example, they tell their stories! We listen then, and everything is fine! You see? We are storytellers and story-listeners, both! ...And we are the best, always, you and me, but no, never with the Flearians! Why? The Flearians are the greatest culture in the world now Author, they have the greatest stories in the Universe, the greatest storytellers ever, and probably the greatest authors too! Why not, Author? Why never the Flearians?

I answered as calmly as I could.

How could we go there, when Flearians count in zillions and they all want to be there themselves, ahead of us! There is not enough room for us all even on the mighty Harkaana!

I said it all in one piece, I took a breath of air, and then I continued: where is this storytelling event of yours anyway?

On Harkaana, Cathleen said in a faint, squeaky voice, but reassuringly.

Oh, yes! And how could we even be there, on Harkaana? We are just two normal, biological, air breathing people!

Cathleen watched me calmly, surprised, and continued with a slow, clear tone.

...Aaa, we are not normal anymore, Author! Please! Please! Pretty please, can we go?

Harkaana is the closest quasar indeed and we can be there by midnight, but it is still a quasar!

I was just being myself then, speaking carelessly without thinking. I gave up. What was the use to lie? I looked up in Cathleen’s eyes since she was taller, I took her hands in mine, and I answered so slowly and so faintly that she could barely hear me.

The Flearians already know all my stories, Cathleen! They live with my stories and they learn them in school, throughout all their History classes! They eat them for lunch, technically!

Oh, there’s so much more they need to know, Author, and you never said it! Not to me, not to anyone else! You always find your way out, but you never say it!

This is it! This is what it is all about. The Event... They all wanted to learn about the Event... She has defeated me and she was right to do so. I wrapped my arms around my Cathleen, sank my head on her shoulder while her black hair covered me in thick layers of numbness, and I hoped that the stillness and silence that formed lasted forever and took us away, far away, away from all Flearians in the world, away from everything relating to the Event...

The Flearians want only one thing from me now, Cathleen. They want the story of the Event itself, all from my own, first-person perspective... And I think they blame me for it too... Out of everyone involved in the Event back then, they blame me Cathleen, since everyone else is gone, so they hate me for killing everyone, for destroying their little world... This is it, this is all...

No, Arthur, no, Cathleen exclaimed dearly, and took me in her arms. It’s not you, she continued in a very low tone, and so close to me she almost whispered in my ear.

We could both hear the silence between us, and it was too much to bear. I wanted to turn around and leave the Control Center, and I almost did, when I suddenly stopped. I had turned my back on Cathleen once, ages ago, a different Cathleen then long ago, back on Geea, and I still regret it even today! Never again!

Wait! I said suddenly and loudly, and Cathleen stopped breathing. She looked me so intensely in the eyes and her face came so close to mine that our noses touched, yet she did not smile nor frowned, she just waited there the way I had instructed her, looking like a little creature whose faith was decided right then and right there. I loved her then more than ever, and I was ready to do everything for her.

Wait! OK! Wait! I think I have an idea, I said plainly, and Cathleen got so excited of the news, that she screamed violently and tried to jump on my lap, but she ended up taking me in her arms, and we tumbled and rolled on the floor together, laughing hard and hurting everywhere. She stopped and waited anxiously then for what I had to say.

If Harkaana is what you want, then Harkaana it is! I finally said it, and Cathleen exploded in happiness all around me. She caught me and kissed me hard.

We will be there Cathleen, on the front row, listening to all Flearian stories, as you wish, because we are going to tell the Flearians the greatest story they have ever heard...

Cathleen stopped then, and her happiness seemed to fade, while her eyes narrowed, waiting, grasping every single word I said. She already knew where I was getting, and by all means, it was not enough... that was not it... what was it there to be more?

Story? No! Not The Story, Author! Not the Event! Wherever we go, whatever we say, we never tell the story of the Event!

Her smile had already left her lips, she stopped breathing, and I could hear and feel her heart beating strongly.

The Flearians... The Flearians all fight to have us there, Cathleen! We are going to tell them what they want the most! The greatest story ever! The story of all gods! My story, and the very Starship Colonial story! Why not?

What? Our stories, Author? We never told our stories, to anyone!

Ok, it was not the Event, they were not our stories, so what exactly was that the Flearians were after?

The Flearians need to know the truth about themselves, Author! The whole Truth!

She had said it all very seriously, accentuating on that ‘whole’ word of hers, and I knew it! I knew everything then, everything that was in her mind, what had bothered her, everything there was to upset her. I did not think that it had mattered so much to her, that she cared so much for those... those Flearians of hers, and yet she did. She had been just like them once, confused, weak, ignorant... and to ask this from me now... and to do it not for herself, but for... for her Flearians... Who would have thought? She wanted me to tell the Flearians about who they were, about how they came to existence, something I had never told anyone, not because I did not want, but because it was simply too personal, and nobody, nobody ever got that close to me to listen these words, to hear this story, ever!

Fine! I exclaimed flatly at the end of my thoughts. We tell them... we tell them the whole thing, we tell it all, but just for you, my dear Cathleen! Just for you...

I was a little upset, I felt a little tired, but my words certainly made Cathleen happy! I could tell it by the glitter in her eyes and by the tenderness in her voice. She spoke with carefully chosen words:

Not me, Author! The greatest story of all times takes the greatest storyteller ever, Author: you! You cannot tell it alongside me this time, my love. Just let me be your faithful listener right there, right on the front row, right in front of you!

I watched Cathleen in astonishment.

My lovely listener? Why not? Sure! I shall tell you and the Flearians both what happened then, wrapped up in the best story, the greatest story I ever told!

Really, Cathleen asked astonished, still not believing it. Your story, Author? ...And theirs, both?

Tears formed in her eyes, and her hope and happiness had slowly returned to her, warming up her whole face and body. You tell the Flearians? You do it just for me?

Mmm... ok!

Cathleen caught me and kissed me as strongly as she could. My heart seemed to skip a couple of beats, with love and joy, and then I thought of something and asked fast:

Cathleen, do you remember where are our magnetic confinements for stars and quasars?

Cathleen stopped breathing then, and she seemed getting lighter in my arms. She only watched me blankly. Her big black eyes widened even more, while the corners of her lips curved down a little.

Where did we use them last, Author? Was it on Brinna? ...Or no! ...it was at the Beginning, wasn’t it? ...Oh no, Author! We left at the Beginning, didn’t we?

Oh, Cathleen!

Cathleen insisted to take care of everything: seats, accommodations, applications, everything. She filled in the necessary forms and only forwarded them to Harkaana, and that was when all the hell broke loose. Lights in all colors appeared all around us as messages or words from the Flearians, or they were the Flearians themselves, since we could never tell them apart, all blinding our eyes now, confusing us, all accompanied by bursts of energy and vibrations popping and humming all around us like fireworks, they must have meant something, or they were something, since we never knew!

For Flearians, biological beings like Cathleen and I lived only to perceive, experience, create, and tell the best stories ever! It was all long before the Event happened, when all biological beings ever were born, lived, and told their exquisite, extraordinary stories since the Beginning, and being all dead now, the Flearians had to listen to reruns ever since, and it must still upset them even today, indeed! Imagine the boredom! I looked down in sadness. I only hoped that my Story would satisfy their thirst for literature, truth, and excitement if the Flearians could ever tell them apart, and that they would, somehow, forgive me!

2 The Kid Show

I am a winner, I started telling the Story in my casual, normal voice, with all the glows of anxious excitement blinding me from every Flearian, Flearian seats, Flearian faces, Flearian words, or from the multitude of projectors, since I could never tell them apart, all coming from all angles, right there, on the very stage of that extraordinary storytelling event, on that magnetically shielded stage built just for me, with lights and glows of astonishment coming from every Flearian in the audience! Weather you believe me or not, I continued slowly in the deep silence and anxiousness of my spectators, I am the winner of the entire world!

I felt the fright then, stronger than everything I had ever experienced. I did seek Cathleen throughout the audience, her black eyes, and there she was, on the front row, a little, beautiful being, tightly tucked in the magnetic confinement of her own seat, looking out of place among formless, lightning shapes and blinding, suspended, unmoving explosions of light of all colors, which were the Flearians themselves. ...Or their seats. Cathleen smiled, emanated her love with every still gesture she made, and waited there as excited as every single listener of my audience. I continued reassured, watching only her, telling my story only to her, while she paid attention and listened closely.

"...No, this has not always been the case! There were other winners before me! Powerful winners, people so strong, they controlled countries and continents with a flicker of their hand, people so gifted, who dictated every event with a simple wish in the mind, and people so fearful and so cruel, who could instantly create dark dreams in the minds of everyone, and destroy innocent lives, only with the tone of the voice and the blink of an eye. Well, they are all now... they are all now, no more. Oh, there were other kind of winners before me. They only considered themselves winners in life, all swimming slightly above each other throughout the continuous sea of mediocrity, illusions and cheap satisfactions. Oh yes, I remember those. They all drifted within the clouded world that most of us used to know, and ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was the mild existence that I used to call, and I still refer to as the sweet ignorance. Oh, and there were also the rest of us, the ones who were always, and maintained constantly the texture of that misleading sea I mentioned above, the armies of blind and ignorant ones, and yet the innocent winners of everyday lives, throughout all happy, peaceful moments.

"...They are all dead now... All those people, all those part-time winners, big or small they were, happy or sad, wealthy or poor. All of them gone, one after the other... I am the winner of the world only by default now, since I am the only one left. And unlike them, I am all constrained in this empty world-place, surrounded by the sad, panoramic wreck of what they once used to call civilization, bearing the memories of their 'impressive' past with everything I see and touch now, while still trying to find new meanings to my unlimited existence.

"I do feel old, I feel very old! I had even forgotten my name. You call me the Kid, since I look and speak like one, but my sweet love, my only love, Cathleen, she calls me Author. Cathleen is with me, here she is, in the front row she sits. My love she is indeed, the very joy of my life.

I can still remember when... the world was different then... There were once people in the world who thought they were alone in the Universe, the only intelligent life there was. There were others who believed they lived on a flat world, while their planet was round, or that the Great Universe somehow expanded at incredible speeds, away from itself! Incredible... Oh yes, others like them believed that life in the Universe was all alike, biological, constantly breathing air. Oh yes, I remember people in the world who believed that their life was but a one stand show, one ordinary, sublime moment suspended between inexistence and death, with nothing before and ever-after! I remember it all, and so do you!

I watched all around me, impressed by the comprehensive silence that the end of my sentence left. All lights had long stopped flickering, all colors had ceased changing or vibrating. The fright in my body did not leave me, my voice still vibrated uncontrollable with every word I said, and yet my speech, my story did seem to leave an impression in every single Flearian and also on my little Cathleen. I stopped fighting my audience then and I accepted their presence, I opened my heart even more and accepted everyone, everybody on Harkaana or beyond, everywhere my voice and my story were transceived, broadcasted, or recorded.

I continued speaking, all from my heart, all with love, and it happened. My listeners were so many, and I felt them all, all following my voice, every syllable I said, all touching me with their attention, all of us pressed, squished in each other so strongly that I could not think alone anymore, nor blink or gasp alone. We were but one, we all saw the same thing I said, we felt every single shadow of my words, we had the same feelings, we thought the same thoughts, and it was all wonderful, a true experience indeed!

I spoke of my childhood then and I also saw myself, the center of our attention, I saw myself the one who I was before, the way I looked before when I was but a child, my words really showed me the image of the normal, healthy, beautiful boy, and I started changing then, the real me, I changed along with my words, little by little, I shrank slowly, I became lighter, smaller, younger, cleaner, sweeter, the child I was telling about, the child I once was. Everything changed round and round me. My big, old school house appeared only a hundred meters away, brought in by my very new words, all gray and beige, with all its dusty windows and dozens of cracks and stains on the concrete walls, in its well-known, rigid L shape. The rest of the buildings appeared around it, one by one, along with all the green trees, all slim, tall and dusty. There were the ten story apartment buildings from my neighbourhood along the narrow streets, animated by the occasional metal cars and passing adults. They made noise or they hummed continuously, and they were dirty. Vagabond dogs continuously sought for food with their pointed noses sniffing the dust of the streets, and there were the innocently, happy children always at play. What a symphony of happy noise and harmony! What a delightful disorder where everything and everyone has its own, special place and meaning! I looked in amazement everywhere, how it all formed to life, how it came alive in each sentence and took perfect shape all around us. The invisible smoke we smelled in the air from cars and factories watered my eyes, and the fine dust brought by the wind from the streets below tickled my nose with every breath, and then it crunched faintly in my teeth. And then I saw a child, I saw myself, the child I used to be, at home, my dear home, and when I heard... and then we heard my mother’s voice from the kitchen telling me to hurry up and get to the dinner table at once, but not forget to wash my hands, I burst into tears, and so did Cathleen, along with everyone else.

The nice summer day was ending outside and the darkness started to penetrate the little apartment where I grew up, the shadows grew on the walls replacing the light exactly the way they were supposed to, with the exact tonality, all sounds coming from everywhere became dimmer, number, the air around us became cooler and fresher, and even my mother spoke and looked calmer, more contempt, only to match the peace and harmony of the oncoming evening. I was definitely impressed, astonished. The Flearians were doing it all, the whole magic. They were the best of the best of all shows, the masters of light, colors and image creation, they pulled out every single little historical detail and event from their archive, significant or not, it was all present there around us accompanying my voice, mimicking my intentions. The Flearians continuously monitored me and Cathleen for the right feelings, the sensations we had unconsciously with each incident and detail we heard and saw and embedded them back in the story enriching the experience of every single Flearian from the audience, and also mine and Cathleen’s, indeed. They even monitored themselves, the whole audience, and faintly embedded their feelings and thoughts in the background. There were not only words I said and heard making the images we saw, but it was everything I could ever perceive and comprehend, right there, all around us. This whole complex, astonishing technology the Flearians were throwing in maintained a heavy, challenging load on me. I had to adjust and drastically increase my oratory skills in order to control every detail and give the story the meaning I intended. This time, on this stage, storytelling was definitely more than a simple speech, a one time stand. This time I had to control and guide everything and everyone like a genuine opera conductor, all with a tremendous effort. I worked hard and I did everything with perfection, all images and sounds came out, formed with accuracy. Then I realised I could do even more. I bent colors and details, I slightly contorted peoples’ personalities and objects from the background, ideas and feelings, all for a better definition of the general plotting, to subconsciously alter a certain well targeted emotion, to make future events more or less predictable, or just to increase or decrease the importance of certain consequences throughout the story, all with an astonishing artistic result that I could have never achieved before on any other stage, in front of any other audience. I spoke and spoke and it was all there, all around us, it was all that I felt and thought as a child, what I wanted and disliked, what my mother saw and how she felt, there was the cat under the table, licking its white and orange fur and crying occasionally, waiting anxiously for us to come eat, I knew how the weather was like, and what my neighbour had for dinner yesterday, we knew, we felt and saw everything and it was magnificent. Soon we forgot who and where we were, and just existed there, suspended among millions of my words, enjoying my wonderful story, The Story.

That was the regular activity for a kid: eating, going to bed, washing, playing, going to school and doing homework, it all probably lacked importance for me and Cathleen, to see it all there, sketched in a couple of words in the beginning of the Story, but for the Flearians it was definitely interesting. There were also holidays and vacations when all I did was playing, running outside like crazy chasing other kids or being chased. Well, all kids looked alike, dressed alike, spoke alike, and certainly, we all desired similar things and dreamt the same dreams, but my dreams, my daily reveries were the ones to make me different. When I looked through the window of my room I saw only apartment buildings, everywhere, only walls, windows, balconies and people standing there quietly or talking to each other. I imagined everything then, I imagined who those people were, where they worked, what they liked and how they behaved at work or in school. I saw them and remembered them day by day, I gave them names, I gave each one an entire life, all in my imagination, I related them to each other, married them, assigned children to them, grandparents and parents, I assigned achievements and losses, made them happy or sad, good or bad. Indeed, there was a story for every single person I saw. At night my dreams expanded, I watched the stars and there, in my imagination, there were planets going around them with purple or pink skies and similar apartment building, with billions of people, all living peacefully their own, distinct lives, while farther and farther away, on the outskirts of the Empire I imagined strange exotic worlds with beings and places so out of the ordinary, living their lives so extraordinarily, they never ceased to impress me, beings of all types and sizes which swarmed the oceans, people just like me who lived on planets, moons and asteroids, above or underground, on space stations and spaceships, I imagined them all, all sort of beings, entities who lived everywhere, on planets among people, in the dust of the space and even inside stars, all small tiny creatures that could barely be noticed, or gigantic, majestic entities spanning star systems or galactic clusters, they all had a name, a life, an existence filled of casual moments or cheerful adventure, all according to their unique, specific way of being.

And so the years passed, I learned more of the world from school and from the Net and the more I learned, the more I desired to know more there was around me while boys and girls from my neighbourhood desired to be left alone to chase themselves outside or to play their computer games. I also wanted to speak on the radio. Yes, I was the usual kid I wanted to have coins and fame together, and in my childish imagination I could have it all, everything I ever wanted, not by playing in a band or becoming the President, but by talking on the radio. Oh yes, my voice on the radio... I wanted it all, I wanted everyone to listen to my words, my stories, I wanted to gather the whole general attention, to be famous, to have my own radio station, to be the star of the air. Well, I could have just called the ordinary Net radio stations out there since there were millions of them, and talk on the air as much as I wanted, sparing me of what it was to come, but no, I had to have my own radio space, all complete with nonstop air time and millions of listeners. Well, I was but a kid, what could I do?

One day, I was about twelve years old or so, while surfing the Net I stumbled upon an ad from some obscure far away site offering to host my uninterrupted radio transmission, provided that my audience counted above three hundred at all time. And if I ever had less than three hundred I had to pay seventy coins a month. First month was free, which made very good sense to me and without thinking I signed the agreement. My dream came true right then with that click on a pad.

So there I was, the newest radio host in town, with a big, fat zero as audience count that stared at me in emptiness from the bottom corner of my computer screen. Once on the air, I grabbed my little cell pad and spoke in it fast, with a shaky voice, all about the weather and sports, all for the next couple of minutes, and when I got tired and bored of speaking in my cell pad to an empty audience I set my entire music library to play nonstop, and I went to bed. I did not like it anymore, being famous on the radio. That had to be it, I thought. Big wishes came true every time, but they had to be just like pretty toys: they all got old in seconds leaving us craving for new ones.

It was the next day at school, during my Computer Science class when I have noticed that I had two listeners on my radio. I was scared and astonished at the same time, I could not breathe, I lowered myself in my desk, slowly and slowly, not to draw any attention and I started whispering in my cell pad the way I did the day before:

Nice weather today here in... Maryland, and the constant twenty-two degrees for all listeners out there in the underground cities from the East... I know, it is always twenty-two degrees in all the underground cities... but it is hot and sunny... I mean... above, on the outside...

I closed my pad fast. My heart trembled my body with every beat it made. I could not find my words anymore. I reached my cortical stimulator from my hat and turned it all the way down. Too much adrenaline, I must have been all red and shaky... and I had nothing else to say on the radio and I felt all weird and stupid. Ok, I was stupid. Than I had an idea, a real vision. Why not asking them? Yes, let the listeners speak with me, since I had nothing else to say... So this is what I did: I asked something about hockey and my pad rang immediately, and everyone in classroom looked at me, and I could not answer my cell in class, then I could not speak on the radio either, since everyone kept on staring at me, all the ten kids in class, our three teachers and all our five teaching assistants. I had to turn off my cell, keep quiet, pay attention, and learn how to highlight text