Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!cs.utexas.edu!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!psuvax1!psuvm!tag2 From: TAG2@PSUVM.BITNET Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Deepvoice walks in... Message-ID: <90026.102313TAG2@PSUVM.BITNET> Date: 26 Jan 90 15:23:13 GMT Organization: Penn State University Lines: 30 A tall, thin walks in from the snow. He smiles as he notices the new regulars at Callahans, but his smile turns slightly strained as he notes some old regualars who are absent. Brushing off the snow from his cloak and guitar case, a button is revealed on his cloak which reads "When you're not looking at it, this sentence is in Spanish". Walking across the floor to the bar, he waves a greeting to Taldin and Hildebaby as he advances. He slides down his dollar bill and orders a glass of fruit wine. He sips the wine slowly, savoring it's rich taste. His eyes seem clouded, as if contemplating another Place, another time.. Suddenly his eyes regain their sharpness. He finishes his drink and strides to the line. Smiling broadly, he begins to speak in a deep bass voice. "Good eventide, all. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Deepvoice. I bid welcome to the newcomers to the Place; welcome, and good cheer to you all. I am saddened by the absence of Magyk and Polymath, but I repect their free will, and I wish them well. Some others, I'm not sure where they are (i.e. Shadow and Snoopy/Jamie Lynn), but my ability to see into the shadows of the Place was never very sharp, so forgive me if either of you are here and I fail to see. In any case, my toast tonight is to Callahans, a spot of light in this sometimes dark world." (Toss -> *crash* -> *WHOOSH!*). "It's good to be back. Mike, could I have a glass of Dreamberry wine, please? Thanks." Deepvoice then sinks into a longchair, and a slight grin creeps over his face, the smile of one returning to a familiar place and finding that some things don't disappear over time. P.S. By the way, Taldin, that was a very nice poem about the Place. Hit home for me in quite a few spots. Tom Gryn.........................................tag2@PSUVM "Life may not be fair, but there ARE balances"-Joel Rosenberg Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!agate!ucbvax!fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM!jane From: jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM (Jane Beckman x4030) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Alaric Frets a Little Message-ID: <9001261358.AA20360@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Date: 26 Jan 90 21:58:09 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 45 Alaric seems a little tense tonight. His fingers keep straying to the hilts of his sowrds, and his gaze probes from time to time into the dark corners of the Place. "Something on your mind, Alaric?" Mikes voice has a warning edge under the bantering tone. "You know, if anyone was to start anyting in here, I'd have to ask 'em to leave, just like Big Beef McCaffrey back in '46 or '47." He shoots a meaningful look at the plit in the Place's oak door. "I know that, Mike," he answers. "Just like you know I'm not going to _start_ anything in here. But since you mention it, I was thinking about some unsavory characters I've run into, here and there. Two-legged sharks in tuxedos, or Western shirts, or who-knows-what, who go to bars fishing for young ladies with troubles, who they can lure with a little sympathy, reel them in, and take advantage of their vulnerability." He pauses. "Seems to me, that's a lot worse than prying. Matter of fact, I guess anyone who pulled that stunt in here would deserve at the very least to wake up in the alley. Right Eddie?" He shoots a glance over at Fast Eddie, who has papaaused for a moment from experimenting with a ragtime arrangement of "Putting on the Ritz." "Yeah, dat's right," Eddie agrees. "We don't need dat kind in 'ere. Let 'em stay in de singles bars downtown." "Fortunately," Alaric continues, "No one's ever pulled that stunt here in the Place. Yet." His eyes flicker for a brief instant into one dark corner. "And if I can do anything about it, they never will, either. I protect my friends when I can, and there's an awful lot of them here in the Place. Under such circumstances, I'd be glad to help convey the invitation to leave... I know a Renaissance man around here who does a good job of re-hanging doors, too." He gazes unblinkingly at Mike, a serene smile playing about his lips. "You're right there," Mike replies, putting the tankard back in its place under the bar. "The Place isn't any singles bar, never has been, and never will be, while the sign still has my name on it." He wrings a bar-towel bone dry and starts wipping the bar top. "And anyone who thinks he can prey on my customers is unwelcome in my bar..." ------ Jilara the Exile is not responsible for postings from departed regulars. Jane Beckman isn't, either. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!apple!agate!ucbvax!fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM!jane From: jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM (Jane Beckman x4030) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Lotsa Pain and Dispair (and Long) Message-ID: <9001261521.AA21900@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Date: 26 Jan 90 23:21:27 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 46 ****WARNING**** Long, long, long, and VERY hard-to-take. Not for the faint-of-heart. Jilara walks into the Place, and her hands are shaking. The circles under her eyes are getting dark, very dark. It must have something to do with the four hours of sleep she's gotten in the past three days. Not like she hasn't tried. She looks old, older than anyone has seen her. "You don't serve cyanide with a bitter chaser, do you," she mutters, then decisively orders her usual scotch. She almost takes the bottle with her. "Here's to my goddamned well-meaning, goddamned meddling, goddamned judgemental best friend." She sounds like she's already had a few, but she hasn't. This is pure Upset. She drains the glass and hurls it. "If she didn't mean so well, I could gladly wreck emotional havoc one her." She laughs derisively, settles down at her side table, hands thrust deep in her pockets and legs outthrust. "I wrote a letter that made alt.flame look like a boyscout picnic fire, today. The burning of Chicago and San Francisco was in that letter, and maybe Krakatoa, as well. And I actually sent it, and it felt good. To my best friend. I've screamed at her on the phone once, and hung up on her another time. God's teeth, she's beginning to remind me of my mother!" She runs weary hands through her hair and starts to figit with it as she does under extreme duress. "Harp, harp, harp... Don't do this, do do that. If you were taking care of yourself, you'd do this and this, run your life this way. Well to hell with her. She gets on my case for drinking, but she's one of the reasons why. I can't sleep any more unless I sleep on a glass of scotch. If I didn't, I wouldn't have slept at all, this week." She sighs heavily. "I don't think that makes me an alcoholic. Unless I'm about to go through the ceiling, I don't drink. My therapist tried giving me tranquilizers. They send me into panic attacks and I think I'm going to die. Interesting." She laughs derisively. "Friends, this story I am going to tell begins here, in this very Place, back when I first walked in the door. And now it's turned vicious, and there are a lot of head-trips going down. If I had stayed here, with friends, rather than walking out in that cold, cruel world out there, it would have been okay. But no, the world ain't no Callahans, chickens!" She shakes her head, bites her lip. "Over the past couple months, I have become very good friends with someone I met here. You may remember Alaric. He's very definitely spiritkin. I hear an echo of myself in his voice. We've had many long, long, long discussions on life, survivors and victims, and the darkness that sits so heavily on so many of our souls... Sometimes, I review our email, and find it hard to tell who wrote which paragraph without checking. Ideals, raw deals, and the way that we survive, though not always well. The forces that shaped us. We understand ourselves very well. We've exchanged email, lately Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!van-bc!ucbvax!london.EE.cornell.edu!yho From: yho@london.EE.cornell.edu (Yue-shun E. Ho) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: The would-be-grad-school-drop-out returns and says hi ho! Message-ID: <9001270203.AA04074@london.EE.CORNELL.EDU> Date: 27 Jan 90 02:03:41 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Organization: London at Cornell Lines: 42 The would-be-grad-school-drop-out returns to the bar. He hasn't talked for almost three weeks, but he has been sitting at the corner for the past one week. "I haven't got kicked out yet, so I guess I'll still be around for some time. I spent two weeks around Boston and San Francisco lately and saw some old friends and professors. I was hoping to meet some of you callahaners but didn't have any luck. Poor Chris Phoenix was waiting for me in front of the Stanford Quads while I was driving along El Camino Real in Palo Alto, trying to find a sign that says Palm Drive. Too bad it didn't work out. "Thank you very much, Scott, for sharing your experience with me," he continues. "As I return to school now, I won't have too much time talking in front of you fellow callahaners. But I'll try to stay here, and communicate with you via e-mail. I *always* respond to e-mail, so feel free to write me; I promise that I won't ignore you. "Thank you, Ted, for introducing me to this place. As well as Chris, Bill Davidsen, Diana, Hank Roberts, Arden, Lori (I actually met you in alt.kids-talk), Mother Sherry, the Unbeliever, Tabbifli, Nick Pine, Taldin, among others who communicated with me privately and publicly. (I'm sure I left out some of you. Sorry. Please let me know if you are one of them.) "I hope there is enough people to have a alt.callahans.gathering in Ithaca. I guess there's only me here at present. But do remember to tell me if you happen to come over to this place. I'll be here until late May, if I don't get kicked out. "So, until next time, cheers!" He finishes his vitasoy, throws the glass into the fireplace, returns to his seat and listens the next patron speaks. - Yue-shun ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Yue-shun E. Ho yho@ee.cornell.edu 201 Maple Ave, #E30, Ithaca, New York, USA 14850-4903 +1 607 273 7214 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabsy!hpfcso!hpcndaw!hpcndm!jason From: jason@hpcndm.CND.HP.COM (Jason Zions) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Cynic on Beauty and Pain Message-ID: <125990005@hpcndm.CND.HP.COM> Date: 26 Jan 90 01:09:06 GMT References: <9060014@hpfcso.HP.COM> Organization: HP Colorado Networks Division Lines: 40 "The Cynic talks about Beauty and Pain. About how some sights are so beautiful, the pain of knowing that all will be dust is almost too much to bear. That the memory will fade, that no comfort can be drawn from the vision. He asks if he's the only one who feels that way. "Definitely not, I can say with certainty. A not-insignificant number of suicides fall into this pattern, where a person actually chooses the moment of his or her greatest happiness to end life. The pain of knowing that it's all downhill from there is too great to bear, and so suicide is the less painful path to take. "These are some of the most difficult suicides for the survivors to accept, to understand, because most people don't feel that way. "As a less extreme case, some people believe that taking comfort from a memory of happier times, or more beautiful visions, is wrong; that it is living in the past, a refusal to deal with life as it is, a cop-out. More people find that understandable, but still feel uncomfortable with it. "Twice in my life, I have heard a live performance of music so beautiful that it hurt for it to end. Much of the wonder and grandness of the first performance has faded for me; I suspect my mind found it too painful to remember that I'd never hear the like of it again, and so mercifully threw a layer of cotton batting over the sonic memory. "It's only now, looking back at the first experience, that I realize I *want* to remember; I savor the feeling of loss, the knowing that the happenthing can never be repeated. Perhaps that's why I have a much more vivid sonic vision of the second time; I learned that remembering was less painful for me than knowing I'd forgotten. "For me, the memories themselves bring little pain; only the fear that I'll never hear anything as wonderous (though doubtless different) again." A wonderful experience offers no ammunition during times of future pain. "Are you looking for ammunition, or shielding? Does it make a difference?" Jazz Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!yale!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!88opensi!ed From: ed@88opensi.UUCP (Ed Anderson) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Roller Coaster from HELL! Message-ID: <358@88opensi.UUCP> Date: 27 Jan 90 10:20:22 GMT Organization: 88open Software Initiative Inc., San Jose, CA Lines: 82 No creative composition tonight. If I start getting creative I may lose track of the feelings that overwhelm me right now. I need to get them out; share them with all of you here. I've noticed that when I'm feeling down, Callahans really helps me. I find that by trying to write an entrance I lose some of myself in the fantasy and the relief is short lived. So what you see tonight is the Ed Anderson, tired, burned-out and quite confused about alot of things. Like alot of people, I'm alone. I started wondering... why? Some people choose to be alone, others are orphined in one way or another. I am niether. Without concious thought I alienate myself from others. It all comes down to being abusive, mentally abusive. I wasn't like that before my divorce... I had friends, I had family and now I have noone. I recognized this today when I caught myself hurting someones' feelings. It hurt me more than that person will ever know. Even now the tears on my face are evidence of that. I ache for other voices, the sounds of companionship... Sometimes I turn on the TV when I'm at home, I don't watch it I just leave it on for the sounds. Music is probably the most important thing in my life right now but even music lacks interactive dialog. (well some music personafies itself i.e. Peter Gabriel's "Passion"). Anyway it seems that I have preverbally "painted myself into a corner" and the paint isn't drying. Some of the people here at work used to ask me to lunch, you know, a group of four or five would go to lunch and talk, laugh etc... but I found myself saying "No-thanks, I have a ton of work to do" or something along those lines... I think they perceived this as "No I don't care to go to lunch with you". When in my head I was saying "I don't know if the commaraderie will bring on memories that may break me.". It's kind of like the situation where you hear a song that reminds you of someone or some place, and that song makes you sad. The undivisible link. Past and present. Like someone just pressed the rewind button on the VCR and I'm sitting at a table in a restaraunt having lunch with my wife... How gorgeous she is, how much I loved her... I know what you're thinking, but no I don't still love her... Most of the pain is injured pride... not to mention the fear of it happening all over... It keeps coming back to this, I fear relationships and I can't seem to even scratch the surface of getting past that fear. And so the catch-22... I would like your feedback, how do I start to let people back in my life? And how do I do it and retain some level of protection/security on myself? I know there isn't one answer, but I'm up for suggestions.... I would like to share the following song with you. It's very much a part of me though the credit belongs to Steve Winwood: Split Decision (paraphrased for brevity) Sometimes I think he knows too much h His confidence never needs a crutch One man is real one, the other wants to hide One man has his mind made up the other can't decide By the time there's nothing left to choose One man puts the fire out, the other lights the fuse Sometimes I think I know too much 'Bout what goes on in the real world and such Half of me is certain, the other isn't sure One half has the symptom, the other has the cure... To private shells and finding an exit .................................................<<>> Sorry for being such a downer tonight...... _____________________________________________________________________ Ed Anderson uunet!88opensi!ed [Cmdr. Andy USS Inturpryze] Alimony to a judge is payment for services rendered throughout the marraige... In other words, the scewing you get after the screwing you got. ____________________________________________________________________ Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!bu.edu!bu-cs!bu-pub!spacey From: spacey@bu-pub.bu.edu (Eva Chan) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Roller Coaster from HELL! Message-ID: Date: 28 Jan 90 00:22:13 GMT References: <358@88opensi.UUCP> Sender: news@bu.edu.bu.edu Organization: Boston University Computer Science Lines: 92 In-reply-to: ed@88opensi.UUCP's message of 27 Jan 90 10:20:22 GMT The bunny peers from behind her stack of books at Ed. She tries to smile a reassuring smile to him, but it was difficult to smile one if she didnt know what one looked like to begin with! Then hoping off her seat she goes over to the bar and gets two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with whip cream and chocolate shavings on top. She walks over to Ed and places one mug in front of him, then hops back to her seat. "Ed, I wish I knew what to say to make things better. But, alas, advice and opinions are all that I can give. To me the first step is probably to let go of the past. I'm not saying that you should forget, but to just put it behind you. From what you have said before, it doesnt look like she will ever come back. I feel that you should look ahead and in a sense, start over. It looks to me that you making a decent living for yourself and have a few co-workers who seem to like you." "First of all, don't shut others out of your life, whether they be co-workers, friends, or family. I feel that it is time for you to start to live again. Rediscover yourself and the world around you. I think that your pride has taken a severe beating. Now is the time to try and heal your wounds and go on. Life was never meant to be easy. If it were then it would be rather boring." "Ed, I was never very good at putting my thoughts into words, but I hope that the past few lines were enough to get the idea across. You have to be determined to make your life work for you. There have been times where I might have been down on my luck, but I was not about to give up. I'm still in school, but for me it hasnt been easy. I could have changed majors, or even drop out, but I was determined to go on and finish what I have started. I am determined to make things work for me." "So, I probably wont find that dream job immediately. I dont expect to, but I am not going to say that I should just hang around the house and do nothing. I know that I probably wont be working on the same level as some of my classmates will, but as long as I have my pride and determination, one day I will get that big promotion or be able to find any better job at a bettercompany. Who knows?" "Well, Ed. Here's to you and hope and determination. Make things work for you. Just dont shut people out from you. Put things behind you, yet you shouldnt forget all that has happened. It is all part of lessons in life. Many people have been kicked in the groin at some point in life. Some recover from it, while others just give up. I dont want to see you be one of those who give up. At times, I have thought of giving up, but I didnt think it would make things any different, most likely worse. But I babble a bit here." She stops and chugs down the now cooled down mug of hot chocolate. Then goes to the line, takes aim, and throws.... >>>KLUNK<<< "Darn mugs, they make them indestructable nowadays," she mumbled as she trudged back to her seat where the pile of books were. Looks like the pile of papers had grown a bit since she stepped away from the table. She sighs and buries herself amidst the books and papers. -- Eva Chan spacey@bu-pub.bu.edu Cheers! And may you enjoy life! "Why are grocery carts made with one wheel that has a mind of its own and runs cockeyed to the other three? Why do so many people close their eyes when they brush their teeth? Why do people believe that pushing an elevator button several times will make the car come quicker? Why can't we just spell it "orderves" and get it over with? Why do people drop a letter in the mailbox and then open the lid again to see if it really went down? Why are there zebras? Why do people put milk cartons back into the fridge with just a tiny bit of milk lest in the bottom? Why aren't there any traditional Halloween carols? Why does every tree seem to have one old stubborn leaf that just won't let go?" - from "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten" by Robert Fulgham Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!cbmvax!vu-vlsi!nlp From: nlp@vu-vlsi.Villanova.EDU (Nick Pine) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: pas de dieu Message-ID: <178@vu-vlsi.Villanova.EDU> Date: 20 Jan 90 02:33:48 GMT Reply-To: nlp@vu-vlsi.UUCP (Nick Pine) Distribution: alt Organization: Villanova Univ. EE Dept. Lines: 38 Nick creeps in on little cat feet. "Make mine a milk and a mink, Mike," he mouths melliflously, minimally murmuring, merely more than mutely mewling... Callahan pours a glass of milk and dips the rim of another into a Petrie dish. Nick slowly rotates the outside edge of the empty glass against his tongue with his eyes closed, enjoying the taste, and then looks for a seat. "You have to be crazy not to defend yourself." Is that what he said? This sounds good, but it's sort of affirming the consequent, he knows from his seven courses in logic, one of which used a book ("I should like to point out to the class that the word "elementary" is used in a technical sense in our text, _Elementary Logic_") that took him an hour a page to read. But in fact, he would say: "If you believe you are crazy, then you should not fight, given certain assumptions about the world." What he would actually do if attacked is another matter. Was Martin Luther King sane? These days, he can listen to people talk about things he knows, and fail to mention their mistakes. He just nods his head, as he does when his wife's colleagues introduce him to others, using her last name. She finds this amusing, and might call it progress. He oils his way across the room to sit in a chair next to a man in a gray suit, who is studying some yellowed sheets of paper. He runs his tongue around the inside rim of the glass, which makes him somewhat lightheaded, and keeps his beard shiny. He sips at the milk. The man turns to him. He is old, and neatly dressed. He takes off his glasses and leans forward and looks at Nick. [My version continued in talk.bizarre] --Nick Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!apple!mips!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!psuvax1!psuvm!emd101 From: EMD101@psuvm.psu.edu Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Roller Coaster from HELL! Message-ID: <90027.221203EMD101@PSUVM.BITNET> Date: 28 Jan 90 03:12:03 GMT References: <358@88opensi.UUCP> Organization: Penn State University Lines: 52 In article <358@88opensi.UUCP>, ed@88opensi.UUCP (Ed Anderson) says: > >Like alot of people, I'm alone. I started wondering... why? Some >people choose to be alone, others are orphined in one way or another. >I am niether. Without concious thought I alienate myself from others. > > ... before my divorce... I had friends, I had family and now I have >noone .... it seems that I have preverbally "painted myself into a >corner" and the paint isn't drying. > >Some of the people here at work used to ask me to lunch, you know, >a group of four or five would go to lunch and talk, laugh etc... >but I found myself saying "No-thanks, I have a ton of work to do". >[It may have looked like I was saying] "I don't care to go to lunch >with you". When in my head I was saying "I don't know if the commaraderie >will bring on memories that may break me.". > > ... It keeps coming back to this, I fear relationships and I >can't seem to even scratch the surface of getting past that fear. > First of all, I'm sorry to hear that you're sad. And, well, it looks like you're going to have to walk through some paint. There isn't any easy solution, but the best thing you can do is decide to help yourself. Go over to some of the folks you know at work and ask them when they're having lunch and say you'd like to join them. You might wind up asking on a day when they are busy or have an appointment. So ask again the next day. (Not next week. The next day.) This is a hard thing to do, but contrary to our fears, a lot of people are reasonably nice. They understand loneliness because they've been through it too. Yes, they might have thought you didn't want to join them. Everyone is on the defensive sometimes. Yes, you open yourself up to rejection. Most people do, and they get hurt sometimes, and so will you, as you know; but the alternative (not ever trying) is unacceptable, for them, me, and probably you. Call some old friends. Call your family and chat some. It's nice to cultivate friends over the computer, but as you say, you need to hear human voices. The only way to get over a fear of relationships is to *have* some relationships. The advice is the same -- dig up some friends. Conversation around a table may on occasion bring up a memory you don't like, but the way to not be sad about memories is to give yourself other things to think about: another good reason to go talk to people and get into living again. I think you'll find that the paint on your socks won't hurt you nearly as much as sitting around breathing the fumes. Good luck to you and let us know how you are doing... -Elke Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!rutgers!njin!princeton!phoenix!jwbirdsa From: jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (James Webster Birdsall) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Boom Keywords: Unrecoverable Main System Error Message-ID: <13376@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> Date: 29 Jan 90 06:42:27 GMT Organization: Princeton University, NJ Lines: 103 The green tiger rises, but his resolution is poor and occasional bars of static streak across him. He looks around. {Sorry about the manifestation, but recent damage has left me without power to do better.} He walks over to the door, which opens. He sits and addresses one who is not Present. {Don't take this personally. It is not actually aimed at you; this is just me yelling and screaming in hopes of maybe feeling better. You are not the problem, just the catalyst. Some of the things I have to say may hurt. Perhaps it would be best if you read no further.} He turns and walks back to the fire, the door closing behind him. He huddles up to the fire against the cold. {I got LBJFed this afternoon.} He lets that fall into the thunderous silence. {Gotta make those bloody averages. Couldn't get away with just ONE disaster this year, could I? No, of course not. Furthermore, I've actually been sorta happy for a couple months here. It was high time for the rug to take off from under my feet. {And in many ways the LBJF is the absolute worst ending. 'Enemy' is a nice, clear-cut, unambiguous role. I know how to deal with enemies. You can hate your enemy; you can say, 'The problem is with them, not me.' LBJF is much, much worse. It is in a literal sense the death of hope. It means there is potential to go every direction but up. {And it leaves you with nobody to hate but yourself, because you didn't make the grade.} He addresses the door across the crowded floor. {If you are still listening, know this: I cannot hate you. You are who you are; the problem is that I am not who I should be.} Silence falls again while the tiger studies the worn floor in front of him. {She said things just didn't click when we met. Which means I have failed, for above all I am Chameleon, and it is my Function to MAKE things click. It is my Function to gather data and process it quickly and accurately, to use that data in the most intelligent manner possible, including adapting myself to the ambient conditions as necessary. {It is my Function to pick up cues from people and be what they need me to be. And I have failed. {And for all of you who are doubtless leaping forward to tell me to relax and be myself, guess what? {There isn't one.} The tiger turns to stare into the fire. {I'm not even sure how long ago I died. It's been quite some time, I think. The only part that seems to have independent existence is Vampire, who is not suitable for general-purpose use. Spock is just a big processor. There are so many things I just don't care about. So if someone important to me wants me to be different, why shouldn't I change if I can? {And thus I come to be so mutable that there is no core left, just the odd rock or two, irrational attitudes left over from many years ago. {But I didn't do it well enough, and now I pay the price. And I've got to be reasonable about it, because anything else would constitute an additional failure of accuracy, making the first that much worse.} He gets up and starts pacing back and forth on the hearth. {What's worse is that I've just lost my last chance. From here on out, the probabilities become negligible. I'm a senior, graduating in early June. After that, I have no idea where I'll be. There isn't enough time to meet someone here and build up anything really meaningful between now and then. Not anything meaningful enough for her to follow me, or me to follow her. The probability of both of us ending up in the same area isn't even worth thinking about. {And out in the real world, forget it. I haven't a clue how to meet people out there. Worse, none of my friends from earlier classes have been able to solve the problem either. {And consider: I'm such a social cripple that even in school, where you're basically STUCK meeting new people whether you like it or not, I still can't do it except via the computer. {So I've basically had it. "Game over, man."} He stops pacing to sit and stare at the roaring flames. {And there is a worse horror yet. {For lo these many years I have labored to make myself as I am today. To learn as much as I can. To process information accurately and without distortion. To remember it when it is needed, and to make intelligent correlations between apparently unrelated facts. {And all for naught. There is nothing I can do for anybody that somebody else can't do better. I can program rings around half the CS majors here. But nobody wants to hire me. Romantically, all I want to do is make somebody happy. But nobody wants me. {What am I MISSING? Where is the crucial element that I lack? {I have access to powerful computers. I have money. I have a car. I have the instrumental power to do most anything I like except support myself, and I have not the power to Touch another's life at all. {Maybe I should just go with the self-destruct sequence and let somebody else use the resources I'm currently consuming. As it stands, I'm a useless object and easy enough to replace. Or maybe I should just patch myself into the computer and stay here, the resident phantom of Callahan's.} He turns to face the crowd with a manic grin on his Cat face. {And guess what else? {There's not a damn thing any one of you can say which will change anything. Friends are like psychologists; they can sit and listen to you bitch, but there's nothing they can do. {Which one of you will speak the words that reorder the world to my liking, I ask, and there is naught but silence because you and I are both but human. {And that's about all there is to say about that.} -- James W. Birdsall jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU jwbirdsa@pucc.BITNET ...allegra!princeton!phoenix!jwbirdsa Compu$erve: 71261,1731 "For it is the doom of men that they forget." -- Merlin