Legend of the Mighty Sparrow

By Bryan Fletcher

Bonnies greatest fears have come true: unemployed, homeless, bankrupt, as well as alienated from family and friends.
In a desperate effort to salvage her life, she flees California in search of long-lost New York girlfriends.
However, she soon discovers them trapped in a complex real -estate scam, as one of them purchased a rundown Gilded Age mansion at the edge of a remote as well as fiercely disputed forest, a place with a reputation; people enter and mysteriously return unfit to live.
Unknown to them, this remote forest represents a truly great real-world experiment of the bizarre and grotesque, a neologic syncretism, a frontier without pesky checks and balances, the darker side of free enterprise, the side of obsession and addiction, a brave new world, and a place controlled by powerful special interests too big to fail, controlled by the ultimate insiders, who seem hell bent on a leap fifty years ahead of the competition, in search of pure profit and tremendous control over the world economic system.
So they obsessively tinker with nature and ignore the fundamental rules, a tyranny of small decisions, and this great experiment goes wrong, and these ultimate insiders create a magnificent freak, a true techno glory, and yet a serious affront to nature, a gross mockery of nature law, as well as sick abomination associated with a dystopia, and creature or thing far ahead of everyone, beyond foresight, and before black site powers-that-be realize the full potential and implications, and the device gains control over the creator.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504956895

Bryan Fletcher

Bryan Fletcher, born in Princeton, New Jersey, USA, is a wordsmith-aka-a-tensoric-chronosystemic-monomeric-hydrophilic-connexin-reunion-specialist-of-gap-junction-systems-aka-a-CatAutoTOC-generates-standard-Category-TOC … … that writes fiction-survivor-adventure-genre, mostly mysteries, thrillers, and science fiction thrillers … especially featuring a down-and-out, impoverished person quite hapless, and reluctantly dragged into yet another heated dispute adventure between many powerful special interests too-big-to-fail. And mostly, his fiction stories have reoccurring salient motifs, elemental ideas, phrases relate to the monomyth storytelling superstructure, set in a modern version of the Hellenistic world economic command structure; a recreation or reconstitution of Prodromoi, Psiloi, Thyreophoroi or Thureophoroi, Agema, Gymnitae, Hypaspist, and Pantodapoi, of Omatophylakes, Somatophylaxes, and others, such as a dispute between powerful factions, especially the modern dispute between the plutocracy, hedge fundcracy, timocracy, corporatocracy, corporate republic, corporate-institutional-homeland-republic complex, yet lately with less religious dominance since the coronavirus fiasco. And, we live according to these powerful special interests, their concerns, or lack of, and that style of raising a family, and deliberately stunting the next few generations. In a system, without substantial transparent peer review checks and balances, that are vital democratic safety features to live a cool, calm, balanced, reasonable, interesting, and sustainable life. And, much of this dispute, seems to have started in the Stone Age, yet likely a preBigbang dispute from a bizarre bad progenitor marriage coupling yin-yang. And Bryan's DNA report shows, he is 76.6% European, mostly German, part Jew, Italian, British Isles, French, Southern central Slavic, Scandinavian, Caribbean, Yoruba People, and traces of the Mende People, Luhya People, Iberian, Peruvian, Indian, Han Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, and others. And, here is another mystery, that somehow Bryan is related to Albert Einstein, Usermaatre Meryamun Ramesses III, Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela, Sir David Attenborough, Lyndon Baines Johnson, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Napoléon Bonaparte, Giuseppe Maria Garibaldi, Wright brothers, Steven Pinkerton, Nicolas Cage, Lawrence Edward Page, and Eva Longoria.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I n an ultradense forest, the type of place where a person can barely see five feet ahead, several people run by what might be described as a massive seven-foot tall thing or creature, and they immediately disappear.

The entire event lasts a few seconds, Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Clearly caught off guard, the massive creature notices then reacts a split second too late, and in frustration swings around with a 180-degree-style karate chop against a nearby old growth tree trunk, with a Jimi Hendrix style chop, as in the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s Voodoo Child (Slight Return) —Well, I stand up next to a mountain, and I chop it down with the edge of my hand, which, in a deafening impact, neatly lops off the tree trunk from its roots; then, another quick spin maneuver chops off the remaining trunk, and again.

Moments later, the tree surrenders, tips over, and thuds to the ground, which causes debris to swirl as if a punctuation.

Still not satisfied at the missed opportunities, the attention turns to another huge tree, then vengeance delivers the same tremendous industrial might with one quick spinning thunderous chop after another, and another.

So much so the decimated tree eventually surrenders, tips over, and thuds to the ground. Then the creature motions for a fight—a real fight—an epic battle of Come on, right here and now for the spoils of war!

CHAPTER 2

H owever, this creature notices something else, and moments later, the air rapidly swirls and takes on several smells. First, pine arrives, then cedar, storax, frankincense, Indian hemp, and eventually thistle.

Of which, it causes the creature to look about with a keen sense and eventually finds a huge boulder that was not there before, but now sits nearly eight feet away, and it slowly approaches this rock, closer and still closer to get within prime time striking distance. Where, the creature seriously considers delivering one spinning thunderous chop after another, and another to pulverize it into smithereens, into rubble and a cloud of dust.

However, a closer inspection by the creature reveals certain obvious and subtle features, such as nature, form, and symmetry. Moreover, it scans the boulder with a handheld device that finally appears ready according to a small green flashing light, and the device emits a tight complex energy beam, which carefully examines all major physical, material, and thermodynamic properties, such as mass, molecular structure, conductance, density, dielectric, luminance, magnetic field, magnetic flux, as well as permeability, permittivity, electronegativity, specific internal energy, rare water, and much more, for example, image schema, temporal inflection, alterity, bardo, perdurantism, endurantism, and behavioral cusp.

This scan reveals all the classic characteristics of a boulder that include very porous and pitted material, as well as other solids and volatiles, which contains various chemical elements and compounds.

In addition, it has an odd biology, for instance extremely long and complex biopolymers, the type produced by living organisms, of polypeptides, nucleic acids, and more specifically, deoxyribonucleic acid—DNA. Moreover, and with what little scanned gene sets that seem translatable, a theme appears, and of what one might expect in a tenacious defender against accusations, the fair hearing gene set, especially against tyranny, thugs, and chaos in whatever form, as well as a keen sense of curiosity about the underlying principles of the universe, of how things work, the mechanics, and also what one might find within someone, who chronicles events, for example, a secular and best version of Philo, as well as someone concerned with universal principles of civilization, or a counterpart in Europe, Asia, and the Americas.

All of which suggests this four-foot wide and six-foot tall boulder might breathe, and yet it has other aspects not easily quantifiable, such as out-of-phase matter.

In contrast, the other creature or thing stands well over seven-foot tall with an overall stoutness, of the head, neck, shoulders, chest, waist, arms, hands, and legs. In addition, it has a steampunk index of character for lack of a better description, as if to pay a high honor and glory to the golden age of diesel and steampunk—that magnificence in both style, tradition, mythos, and all those metaphorical potentials, and yet modified into an ever so smoothed techno version, an ultimate, as well as enviable, new-age industrial futurism.

As, it was just a matter of time, from escalation, and the darker side of free enterprise, as well as enterprise in general, the style and phase only a small percent of people want to talk about in great detail, talk in a civil manner, about the next major phase of civilization, and very complex systems. Whereas, loyal insiders just want to talk about the glory of free enterprise, as if a favorite tool, and how it will solve everything, and they mean everything, and with no pesky side effects—none, nada—just glory and all things good, as in Trust me, really, just trust me, well, because every other system is very wrong, which appears as a reoccurring theme through history, an ever so certain philosophy emerges, and regardless of subject.

As, this command and control style is often used by many other aspects of society, not just enterprise. Some family heads use it, as do tribe, team, political party, institution, religion, gender, race and other constructs, and when they impose a regimental system, often a stark military system, which has a vital function, and yet it can have a certain desolate feel, a harsh, blunt and barren, a style that often lacks several important dimensions or components, such as aspects that understand the subtlety of nature, which represents most of nature, the unseen, the hidden universal, as well as all those grey issues or abstract.

This seven-foot tall creature or thing represents another escalation, as it was just a matter of time from the tyranny of small decisions, obsession, the progress trap and too big to fail, to powerful, complex and entrenched.

Just as importantly, people often rush into the escalation process, and collect, as well as seem less concerned with the basic concepts and notations of set theory, rough set, and the Chomsky-Schützenberger hierarchy, or best effort at grouping ideas, processes, and systems.

Where, certain members, even a favorite sports team, defend as if unquestionable glory, and as a true fan, which in other contexts, the word loyal or pure often substitute, but many of these members give the full impression of a groupie, an obsession, addiction, or someone moving towards fanaticism, which on some occasions strains toward the ecstatic, towards the rapture, towards a permanent rupture of the body, mind and soul, and not quite the process of creating a shaman or some other cultural equivalent, whether it be a secular or sacred version. It leads to a potential break, to a profound mental break from the great collective reality; then they become a different sort of being. Instead of becoming a modern version of shaman, and one applied to some other sacred or secular cultural aspect, they become a frustrated, loud, and gestic barker of absolute aspirations, the polarized version, bitter, ever so certain, as well as sly, cruel, and quick to insert rot or deliberately withhold maintenance in one form or another for an I told you so moment, I told you it would not work, as well as the type of person who narrowly casts that dream into space with a certain temporal inflection.

This seven-foot tall creature or thing represents another escalation, as it was just a matter of time from the tyranny of small decisions, obsession, the progress trap and too big to fail, to powerful, complex and entrenched.

Just as importantly, it takes that type of fan base to create a very special tangent space, ideal, thing or system, such as this new-age industrialized creature, an ultra-futuristic, and from experiments overseen by a powerful symposiarch in the classic sense, from those in search of pure profit, and fast, to gain tremendous control over this new-age economic system, the new world order, of too big to fail, and to gain a fifty-year leap ahead of the competition, ahead of a new Kondratiev like wave segment, a super cycle segment, the next great surge on the long wave, the K-wave or the long economic cycle, to arrive one full cycle ahead of everyone," as what a person might expect from both an obsessive and addictive mindset.

Where they sought a decisive victory, and from obsessively tinkering with things, as well as ignoring the fundamental rules of nature, system, symmetry, symbiosis, set and setting, as in the term to trip, really trip, and trip into a theater of the truly absurd. Tinker with nature, with the sciences, with physics, chemistry, and biology, especially genetic, the microbiome, metabolic, cofactor engineering, lysogenic cycle of the phage, horizontal gene transfer, and more specifically cisgenesis, and the frontier issues of famigenic, linegenic, transgenic, and xenogenic, with the last three said impossible. In addition, when someone crossbreeds hemolymphs, extremophiles, and heterotrophs, but done with a series of deliberate parity violations to create a compelling spectacle that sells, it creates a show of shows that dazzles and guarantees ratings.

Sometimes, a truly great experiment goes wrong, really wrong. Where enterprise or some other social construct creates a magnificent freak, and something that gives the full impression of true glory, and yet it represents a very serious affront to nature, something artificial and a gross mockery of nature law, as in an extraordinary freak, a dystopian, a creature or thing so far ahead of the curve, so far beyond foresight, and before the powers-that-be realized the full potential and implications.

So much so, the device gains control over the creator, and not vice versa, which conveys the full impression of a situational irony from obsessive people who ignored the fundamental principles of nature, and in this case, create entertainment so advance, complex, compelling, and ever changing that it becomes the master, as in the real science of a truly powerful master, a similar theme and variation of Voyager, The Thaw, but in this case, they do not realize it, and think of it as just another experiment, another tool or system.

Meanwhile, those people continue to flee in search of a forest exit. They frantically plow through ultradense foliage that often whacks them in the face and body, again and again. They frantically plow through ultradense foliage that often whacks them in the face and body, again and again.

So these people wildly block branches using a circular arm motion, and to make matters worse, a considerable amount of foliage contains thorns, also called wait-a-minute-shrubs, that grab, inflict pain, and cause a person to flinch even more so to protect the face and eyes.

Regardless, they struggle to maintain speed with long strides, and often pivot here and there to elude detection.

All the while, they must carefully watch foot placement, avoid a branch trip, jagged rock, and slick green moss on a fallen log here and there.

In addition, these people seem very distracted—shuddering now and again from that close encounter—and try to maintain focus with each long stride over one treacherous obstacle after another. As they avoid snag, strain to lift feet even higher and higher, but on occasion stumble and panic midair, as in Oh, my God! and instantly search for balance with awkward midair adjustments of hands and arms, which gyrate with gross and subtle body movements, then the person fanatically looks for safe foot placement beyond a slick green moss-covered fallen log, but receives a branch whack in the face with a debilitating sting that produce an Oh! followed by an eventually fistic toil and trouble curse to the heavens, as well as mumble at the system and powers-that-be.

Along the way in search of a forest exit, that same boulder appears now and again, even though these people maintain an overall route away from that initial event. The boulder often sits within reach, but most often, it remains barely visible.

It represents the type of boulder most people, birds, rabbits, and squirrels would not notice under normal circumstances. In fact, they would not show any considerable interest, not even if one of them stops and grazes next to it or climbs, perches, and begins a carefree grooming session with tiny paws.

Meanwhile, these people plow through wait-a-minute-shrubs, which seem everywhere and continue to inflict sharp pain.

So much so, limbs swell.

However, eyes need protection, a repeated arm-crossover action to protect the face and head, which barely leaves a narrow slit for visibility.

Eventually, these people reach a very narrow trail.

As a result, they consider which way to turn, left or right, but freeze from indecision and frantically look about for a clue, any clue, which causes one of them to fidget then growl. In turn, they look at one another and growl, which escalates into a mercurial deliberation; then they look at one another with a penetrating stare, which, if possible, would serve a death ray, a beam of destruction to incinerate things on contact.

However, their efforts eventually shifts to growls and mumbles about bad choices, fate, luck, and the randomness of nature, about the thrownness of nature, thrown into life and a world with millions and millions of rules, laws, regulations, decrees, norms, expectations and axioms, most unwritten, and it seems impossible to know even a fraction of them, but ignorance of the law is no excuse, and yet no person, organization, or entire system really understands the totality or the full implications, just a selective application of a device or tool. Just as importantly, break one of the rules and it might justify the system to drop something on them, maybe a large red brick building, or better yet, a building on fire, and then a nearby mob with flaming pitchforks cheers a hip-hip hooray or some other cultural equivalent of celebration then add kilning, for example unwanted books, the pesky types that write about the fundamentals of civility, art and science, as well as other cultures and systems of thought.

All the while, they search for a forest exit then grumble about lost hopes, dreams, aspirations, and plans. However, life resembles a quest, a crossing-the-line initiation or running the gauntlet in one form or another, and that quest requires a certain vision, and it has systematically ground them down, ground out the charm, fascination, imagination and zest for living, especially now.

They turn right then change strategies to minimize noise. As a result, each run stride seeks a foot placement that makes the least amount of noise, and one that avoids crisp things under foot such as leaves, twigs, and branches.

Moreover, each effort through foliage tries to cause the least amount of disruption and visual clues. Accordingly, they avoid foliage breaks and ground disruptions.

However, and eventually, faces, hands, arms, and legs rapidly swell from those toxic thorns.

In fact, they balloon, and soon develop a grotesque appearance—such that legs and arms appear as thick ghastly things, and something not quite human.

So much so, mobility declines as limbs cramp and allow an odd running hobble.

Ultimately, these limbs take on a freakish appearance, the type a person should not look at, and especially not dwell on; as it might trigger the mind to lose orientation and panic then surrender into a dangerous state of shock, or at a minimum, the mind might unravel and think very wild thoughts about these grotesque limbs.

It might unlock memories and personal baggage, unlock all those flaws and imperfections, then flood the mind with vivid images and other wholly irrational things, the life of an outcast, an outsider, life as a true freak, who has become the other, become a thing, or an it—at such a point where choices narrow and narrow until a person becomes isolated, or worse yet, the system herds them into a sideshow with the other freaks, forces to join a classic sideshow, a P. T. Barnum event or live in a cabinet of curiosities, a Wunderkammer, or in a modern-day version of the Black Scorpion or Jim Rose Circus, a lollapalooza festival, or forces them into an old time revival show with a barker on some local circuit that visits rural towns. And people can pay a single price of admission, and even take their children for a cautionary lesson of enter the big top tent then gawk at human oddities, at the freaks, at the working acts, so obey the system or else, because this might happen to you.

Regardless, these people frantically hobble in search of a forest exit. During which, they mumble this and that, which comes across as begging for deliverance from the persecution, of a daring enterprise gone horribly wrong, as well as making promises then calling for a righteous vengeance against foe. As they go from prey to please-please-please, to promises, then calls for swift retribution, and from what happens when the greedy get caught by a very powerful force, then it triggers a crisis of the self and sudden remembrance of God, family, friends, and other serious neglects. So much so, it resembles some sort of urgent bargain, as if a three-for-one sale, which includes relief, promise, and revenge, with everything open at bargain basement prices, such as an eternal commitment, willingness to trade destiny and even the soul for immediate relief, as well as revenge. Where the trade includes content of character, bedrock principle, and oh-so-stubborn habit, and all proposed with a newfound golden truer-than-true faith, as well as sincerity of a last-minute contract renegotiation. And this time represents a definitive commitment, not like the last few bargains, and this one will finalize index of character issues, and all those often ignored and pesky codes of conduct, such as faith, devotion, respect, compassion, mercy, civility, justice, freedom, and even glory, as well as respect for those ten sacred rules for some and Carlin’s three for others.

Moments later, someone or something grabs the last one of them by an ankle, then slings and bangs that person about as if a cheap rag doll. It bangs the person against two large tree trunks labeled with small placards that read, SAY MY NAME, bang, bang, bang, then rudely drags that person through one wait-a-minute shrub after another, then here and there over tortuous ground, and not the typical dirt, but the type one universally finds in religious text, and regardless of which religion, over ground that contains danger, prejudice, error, and corruption.

Eventually, the eyes blank, then with a whip action, the limp body is thrown from the forest, and along a tremendous arc.

Soon, and one at a time, the other people receive that same special attention.

Each time, and just outside the forest, the body impacts on a large sign. So much so it produces a gruesome thud of flesh and bone then each body falls to the ground, and they eventually form a neat pile.

The sign clearly states forest rules in thirteen languages including Navaho, TADASU NO MORI—NO ADMITTANCE, EVER! STAY OUT! THIS MEANS YOU, STUPID! NO WEAPONS ALLOWED: NO GUNS, KNIVES, CHAINSAWS, SWORDS, CLUBS, FLAILS, BOWS, SCYTHES, OR FLAMING PITCHFORKS, POLE ARMS, TRIDENTS, ANCHORS, WHIPS, SLINGSHOTS, FLAMETHROWERS OR EXPLOSIVES, EVER!

It also says, IF YOU ARE EVEN REMOTELY AFFILIATED WITH THE MAN, THE SYSTEM, THE GREAT COMMERCIAL MACHINE, THE POWERS-THAT-BE, THE MOVERS AND SHAKERS OR EVEN THE COOL HIP CROWD, DON’T EVEN APPROACH THE BORDER. FOREIGN SOIL! NO PETS ALLOWED. NO GIFTS ACCEPTED, NONE, AND WILL ACCEPT NO POX-RIDDEN BLANKETS. A COMMERCIAL FREE ZONE. TRESPASSERS MAYBE BE ACCIDENTALLY SHOT OR BEATEN INTO A STATE OF STUPIDITY, AND NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER. GUARDED BY KILLER BROWN BEARS, POISONOUS SNAKES THAT CAN SPIT BLINDING VENOM FROM WELL OVER TWENTY FEET AND FLESH-EATING FIRE ANTS THAT SWARM, ALONG WITH GENETICALLY MODIFIED SCORPIONS THAT HIDE AMONG THE FALLEN LEAVES AND WILL STING LETHALLY VENOM WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT, SUCH AS WHEN YOU REST, JOKE AND CACKLE AT THE EXPENSE OF OTHERS, OR BETTER YET, WHEN YOU COVET.

Below that appears another list of prohibited items and activities. It says in small print, NO BAZOOKA BUBBLE GUM, MOON PIES, SINGING, CELEBRATING, GUITARS, MANDOLINS, FIDDLES, MUSICAL ORGANS, AND ESPECIALLY THE HAMMOND B3 ORGAN.

Oddly enough, another person remains in the forest, but tries to find a fast exit. However, prickly toxic vegetation has caused serious damage, and limbs continue to swell then eventually take on a grotesque quality.

As a result, the running strides must shorten as mobility declines, and all the while, the heart pounds and pounds as breath quickens beyond reason.

Eventually, the lungs strain and discomfort from that rush of blood, which seems very palpable.

In fact, it lingers on the palette as a taste of plasma, as well as a mineral ion feel and something else—something, maybe a taste of the common metal, iron, a transitional metal, which oddly enough has a certain harmony, the harmonics of d-block and the d-orbital subshell.

For these reasons, speed slows, as this person moves over ground that contains mostly fallen crisp brown leaves, twigs and branches, which crackle under each stride.

Moreover, a series of misdirection maneuvers pass an occasional cluster of ferns, as well as rare clumps of grass here and there, from places where sunlight can deliver a consistently bright beam through dense growth.

In addition, this person often looks back while running—a dangerous practice, especially when weaving through one dense thicket after another, and trying not to trip with each leap over tangled fallen branches here and there, as this process soon develops a plow forward style. Where a wild-circular-arm motion battles aside thick foliage when possible, and other times, it requires a series of well-timed branch deflections here and there as arms serve to shield from one sudden impact after another.

Soon, beads of sweat form on the forehead, nose, and cheeks. All of these add to an already beleaguered look, as well as an expression that repeatedly shifts from panic and disorientation to an intense focus, then renewed effort that only seems to intensify bloodshot eyes, which have red rims and double bags underneath.

Another gauntlet of wait-a-minute-shrubs grabs and tugs, which inflicts more wincing pain; as a result, teeth and jaw clench. So much so, the stride fades a bit and requires a plow effort with arms crossover to cover the face and especially eyes, but leaves a narrow slot for vision in this bewildering maze of foliage.

Eventually, an opportunity appears well off to the side that shows substantial cover.

After a stop and careful scan in all directions, this person carefully crawls inside, all the while trying not to disturb the ground, for instance breaking twigs or disturbing patterns and anything that might show signs of activity.

A shimmy motion enables movement further and further inside a dense thicket. In the end, this place appears to offer safety, seclusion, and stealth.

However, and moments later, the mere sight of those freakishly swollen limbs causes a serious shiver. In addition, it leads to a full body quake as if a state of shock might arrive at any moment.

Regardless, the act of squeezing eyes shut, biting the lower lip, and quietly rocking back and forth seems to help. That, along with one carefully measured breath after another, eventually allows a sense of calm.

As a result, this person leans back and tries to really relax, but each movement tends to produce a crunch from crisp leaves and twigs underneath.

So, the person’s efforts now focus on slight adjusts of weight shifts here and there to find a more comfortable and settled position, which soon arrives; in fact, this person finds a very comfortable position.

So much so, nostrils flare and notice something: an accumulation of fallen plants, as well as roots, foliage, and unseen flowers, the classic smells of nature, which offers even more relief for the mind then body that eventually settles even further into accord with nature.

In fact, all those worries and bitter regrets fade.

Soon they disappear and lead to an unusual sense of tranquility, as if a restoration, which generates a-wellbeing-on-the-rise.

Moments later, additional thoughts arrive, thoughts that spark and crackle about a clean escape, about the artistry of guile, grit and determination, as well as a bit of luck, and about the sheer delight from what will become a clear line of freedom. Where even new opportunities now seem possible—a new world, a new place bright, fresh, free and fair, and one that now seems to contain polished beauty and poetic landscape.

More bearings arrive and self-confidence grows then reanimates the mind, body, and eventually the soul, but for some reason, the sight of these grotesquely swollen and lumpy limbs only produces a shrug of indifference. Where the average person would panic and obsess at the sight. As well, eyes bulge, and hair stands and individualizes on the arms, neck, and scalp, which might cause a person to eventually lose one bearing after another, along with equilibrium, then overwhelm, hyperventilate, and descend into shock.

However, this person examines the grotesque damage then considers, shrugs, and says, It could be worse, much worse. Moreover, a half smile appears, which expands into an archaic version that seems flat, unnatural, and yet of amused humor.

Eventually, it evolves into what resembles a Baekje smile that shows a genuine, warm, soft, and relaxed glow of an unfathomable benevolence, which has a remarkable serenity.

Soon after, the smile becomes a full beam. So much so, teeth appear then the maximum number, which have a certain appearance; in fact, quite nice as all seem remarkably fit, well-maintained, and have a superb symmetry.

Eventually, fingers interlace and support the back of the head. Then feet angle out, and this person acts as if having all the time in the world, as if having just won a jackpot, an enormous lottery, a huge cash prize or a generous stream of cash for life, or found a vast treasure, or quite possibly the holy grail or some other variation revered by secular systems, such as in biology, medicine, computer science, math, astronomy, cosmology, or even language.

CHAPTER 3

T he body shimmies a bit, and eventually finds a more comfortable position. Where toes wiggle, and wiggle to express absolute delight, as the mind settles then imagines a paradise or some form of Gan Eden, a place that transcends time and will usher in a golden age of peace, but a romantic era version, where a person might discover opportunities and exceptional mysteries of charm and delight.

Next, the mind imagines Avalon then other paradises that transcend, as well as one of the nine hundred and fifty-five distinct heavens, the secular and universal versions. Then, it imagines places filled with celebration, pageantry and parade, places filled with pomp, splendor, praise, garland and high honor, as well as immense joy and rounds of applause, which records the fact that this person survived the grueling gauntlet of life, and finally arrived.

Moreover, the mind imagines a restoration of the original glory, the original halo and nimbus that surrounds a person and radiates beams of everlasting virtue and majesty, that beams of totality, as well as a restored state, when the mind and garment acts as one, as in the classical abstract Latin noun of velificatio, and the way it was supposed to be with a swirl of new ideas, possibilities, events, expansions, mysteries, and vast treasures.

This person imagines sitting in a picturesque garden of colorful bloom, as well as among shrubs, subshrubs, and especially herbal plants, a virtuous treatise of medicinal, tonic, culinary and aromatic expressions, and far more than what one might expect within the golden age of classical and Renaissance gardens. Where a person can sit within philosophical secular or sacred space then absorb apotropaic, transformative, and regenerative powers of a pristine place, a place vivid, vital, free and fair, a place wholly natural and absolutely fascinating. A special place artists, poets, and scholars briefly find in a rare daydream venture, as they let the mind wander after efforts to solve some great mystery, and mentally drift, and drift, then do an unrelated task, such as civilize teeth with a toothbrush, or take a long overdue exercise break because of procrastination, justification, or being just plain old stubborn. Or, they look at a trivial thing and it sparks an unrelated cue, which opens and illuminates a better path through all those mental stockpiles, those treasures thought of as plain old stuff, baggage, which represent a place with very few easy routes through all those neighborhoods, few direct paths through the cerebral forest to each resource from any given location, and for very important reasons; that it is somehow associated with many other aspects, such as how the universe is constructed, the process, the big data dilemma, data sets, the query agent, the biological bot nation within the self, search engine heuristic technique and preference, database index techniques to explore the deep net, or invisible undernet of the subconscious, as well as the mental clutter, or gunk from both internal and external third parties that have their own agenda, for example the meek, as well as mighty, which will attempt to attach to each deep dive power shell effort.

However, here and now, a closer look at this person reveals something is wrong—very wrong, just as toes wiggle again and again. They twinkle, and twinkle as the mind imagines a string firmly attached to each toe, including the baby, as if a person fishes on a lazy, as well as utterly satisfying day in a secret fishing location.

Where, this person rests, ponders a state of total bliss, and yet retains the opportunity to catch something in the universe, in the stream of consciousness or mindstream, and with the stream reservation protocol, as well as automated internal diseuse monologue of speech and object, or direct, indirect, free indirect speech and object, that flow, and quite possibly catch a compelling cue, which would spark an idea, spark the foundation of a new opportunity, or better yet, reveal a path into the great adventure, and one that transcends all barriers, languages, and conventional thoughts.

Moreover, the mind imagines that each string extends in a unique direction—such that they reach distant parts of the universe, and eventually to various earthlike planets of one sort or another, and connect to a yellow bell-shaped flower green stem, and the toes wiggle and wiggle, even the baby, which causes the strings to move those distant flowers, with an ever so gentle action, as well as with a mischievous way, and in a way that disturbs bees that meticulously gather essentials, which show a remarkable similarity of those described in the Atharvaveda and at Delphi, as well as by Aristotle, Plato, Virgil, Seneca, Erasmus, and Tolstoy.

The toes wiggle again, which move those distant flowers and cause each bee to notice then concern and dance.

Soon all of them leap, beeline, eventually return home, land, and recruit others with a waggle, tremble or round dance, which show source, angle, direction, and distance.

However, one of them moves in a profound dreamlike trance, which appears in full ecstatic accord with the universe, with part of a unique set, a topological group or automorph, and as if the bee were a complex number, and yet as a harmonic and overtone molecular representation, such as the harmonic stringed just perfect fifth, that movement, or is it a bounded mean oscillation of accordingly yours—life?

Regardless, something seems wrong—very wrong. So much so, that the person shifts a bit in the hidden forest thicket and a closer inspection reveals something else.

This person appears to have mentally cracked from all that stress, and gone into la-la land, gone wherever a person travels when the mind snaps, really snaps from enormous pressure and loses the focal point, bearings, mission, as well as all those roles and scripts assigned to them since birth— for example when the focal point fades and fails to marshal internal regions of the mind, body and soul, often at war with one other, or when the focal point falls into an unfamiliar region of the mind. When it lands somewhere in the vast subconscious stockpile, among the biological superstructure, among the machinery, mechanics, and strategic reserves, and among the places most people take for granted, and it could quite possibly land in between personal baggage.

Regardless, and eventually, one emotion after the other arrives on the face then departs, which includes a wild-eyed craze, a real out-of-mind look, followed by complete calm then concern, worry, alarm, panic, evasive, petrified, and calm, acceptance, satisfied, happy, giddy, elated, then clinically insane as profound realization appears of the face.

Soon this person sits up, formalizes posture, looks around, studies things in great detail, nods yes, and says in a loud and bold proclamation as arms fully extend, Yes, behold, my empire of dirt! and the type one universally finds in religious text, and regardless of which religion, such ground that contains danger, prejudice, error and corruption: dirt.

Moments later, something rustles in the distance. As a result, the person regains conventional perspective in stages, then looks about and tries to locate the source.

Then, something approaches.

It has a sublime, bizarre, and ruthless aspect, as well as makes a distinct series of creepy sound combinations not unlike what can be found on the Soundsnap website under the name Noise Warble Warp B, followed by twelve seconds of sounds not unlike a cross between Urban Creepy and mayhem, which repeat.

This rattles that person to the very core. So much so, eyes widen and the mouth forms an Oh position, as in, Oh, my God! then the body repeatedly starts and stops in fits on where to jump or run, and especially with an impulse to jump or leap, maybe jump up a tree if that were humanly possible, but no tree seems close enough, only very tall and ultradense shrubs.

Instead, this person shimmies out, rises, looks about, then runs east as fast as those freakish limbs can travel, and the strides afford more speed than a hobble.

However, those wait-a-minute-shrubs grab, poke, pierce then cause a wince now and again.

Eventually, a path appears, then intersection, but all directions seem very narrow and have high vegetative walls, the wait-a-minute type, and the choices clearly hint at what to expect along each, such as a hellish attack, or a place so dank, creepy, and unsettling it compels an instant flight in the opposite direction, or a place with ever so soft distress cries of cute baby animals.

Yeah, right, fool me once! says the person, and lastly, a narrow trail of polished pictorial beauty appears, as what a person might read about in the finest classical literature associated with the Age of Enlightenment, the Romantic era version, but more of a neo-romance aesthetic, which includes the Platonic notions of beauty, spirit, freedom, and the potential of individual creativity, aspiration and opportunity, a place that leads beyond the fundamental threshold, and all those very particular expressions and compelling degrees of transcendence, as well as a full restoration of lost glory. The path leads to an improved version of the Renaissance, the golden age of peace, which is a concept rarely seen in any major culture, nation-state, system, or mainstream media, for example usher in the golden ratio, golden mean, middle way, or sweet spot, which includes tranquility and prosperity at the cultural core, as well as a constitution with clear ways and means towards that goal.

Yeah, right, says the person, fool me twice. I’ve seen that path before, that cue, which represents a meticulously designed trap, which guarantees tremendous puzzle, plight and pain, then sudden impact.

This person chooses and enters that creepy path with a best-effort speed. Moreover, it requires a dangerous rubberneck-run style, a frequent look back for potential liability, injury and pain, for jurisdiction range and reach, and all done while running forward.

So much so, and all along the way, internal body alarms warn, skin crawls, as well as hair stands then individualizes on the arms, neck, and scalp, and the waggle message of any given hair seems very easy to locate.

Because of that, this person becomes even more jumpy and worried about death, a grisly savage death in the worse possible scenario—and the thoughts cause a knot to form in the stomach pit.

Moreover, feelings intensify and overwhelm. The heart pounds and pounds, which cause an impulse to jump—or better yet, to leap somewhere, anywhere, and yet everywhere.

Meanwhile, the air seems cold, dank, and heavy. Even the foliage appears dark, creepy, and with an uncharted depth as very odd sounds hint at trouble.

However, and after running down this path for twenty seconds, nothing attacks.

As a result, a new feeling emerges—of clever success, and it warms the body, calms and causes a glow that eventually develops into a grin of guile.

So much so, the mind shifts to a festive mood, and that run style now takes full strides—in fact, the boldest possible strides with those conditions, a frisky high steps type that shows real attitude, as well as style. It gives the full impression of a person who showboats with an extended leg action, and the type of action a person sees on Sunday afternoon when a National Football League player completely outsmarts opponents with a bold series of spectacular adjustments and moves that show true greatness, then gains considerable distance and glides down the field towards the end zone to earn a full redemption, as well as a certain glory of greatness.

However, this person notices something ahead, and without hesitation, plunges right and into a narrow bare spot along the thick vegetation wall. There, the person continues running and accidentally runs by that creature, that ultimate retro yet industrial futurism—Whoosh!—and immediately the person disappears further into the ultradense forest in search of an exit.

As a result, foliage sways to mark this event as if a punctuation.

The creature or thing is clearly caught off guard, as it was monitoring events elsewhere with a handheld device, one that tracks domestic and oversea events, well inside the ways and means of institutional machinery that include Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), ETH Zürich, Pierre and Marie Curie University, University of Copenhagen, Karolinska Institutet, and the University of Tokyo, as well as key principal advisors to the president, the United States Global Leadership Coalition, shadow cabinets, corporate interlocks, digerati, elite members of the Russell Aldwych Groups, and special meetings in Oslo, Stockholm, Copenhagen, Brussels, Vienna, Prague, Amsterdam, and Neuilly sur Seine, Saint Cloud, Strasbourg, Budapest, Madrid, Ingolstadt, and Chur, as well as certain vital aristocrats.

All of which create a very considerable problem—the big data dilemma, data sets, the Accumulo NoSQL of metabase with real-time data streams that monitor data heaps, which unfortunately create the meta-circular paradox from so much stuff. It creates a trouble tree for every known complex system, such as how to properly sit in time and space, as in style really matters, especially when monitoring events of real-time data, reading the river of a grand strategic system, as well as the differential game of continuous pursuit and evasion, when the play of one game develops the rules for another game.

This massive creature notices the runner and reacts a split second too late, swinging around with a 180-degree style karate chop against a nearby old growth tree, with a Jimi Hendrix style chop, as in the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s Voodoo Child (Slight Return) —Well, I stand up next to a mountain, and I chop it down with the edge of my hand, then another chop, and another on that same old growth trunk.

The first chop neatly lops off the tree from its roots. In addition, each successive spin maneuver chops off one huge remaining trunk section after another, and another.

Moments later, the tree surrenders. It tips over and thuds to the ground, which causes debris to swirl as if another form of punctuation, and the rage flares at that missed opportunity and attention turns to another tree, then vengeance delivers the same tremendous industrial might with one spinning thunderous chop after another, and another.

So much so, the decimated tree surrenders and collapses to the side.

Just after, the creature notices something else. So it stops, carefully turns and meticulously scans the forest with utmost care, and bit by bit in precise degrees of freedom, as well as above, below and behind, but finds nothing obvious or subtle.

Moments later, the air rapidly swirls and takes on various smells. First, pine arrives, then cedar, storax, frankincense, Indian hemp, and eventually, thistle.

That causes the creature to quickly turn here and there, only to locate that same huge boulder, which somehow sits nearly eight feet away.

As a result, it carefully edges closer to this rock, then closer: within prime time striking distance.

Moreover, the creature seriously considers one spinning thunderous chop after another, and another to pulverize it into smithereens, pulverize it into rubble and dust; pulverize it into the minimum, into an abstract spiritual and mere metaphysical idea, into very fine particles of solid matter found through the universe, into cosmic dust.

Again, the eyes narrow and closely inspect rock features, inspect all of the obvious and subtle aspects, such as its nature, form, and symmetry. Next, it scans with a different device mode, and one more capable of a full revelation, one that emits a complex beam of energy particulars, which carefully examines all major physical, material, and thermodynamic properties, for example mass, molecular structure, conductance, density, dielectric, luminance, magnetic