Country of Rocks

The sand is reaching as far as I can see. It’s a gray type of sand, covered with millions of small, gray pebbles. Here and there, a bigger rock. There are no trees. The landscape is surrounding me, embracing my body and soul. The sun is shining through the dust clouds in the air. What am I doing here you might ask. The answer is that I have nowhere else to go. This is the world I am living in. Since ages I have been walking through this desert and never met a soul. Sometimes, people have passed by, but never made any contact really. You have to carry a weapon in this country, because anyone you meet could be your enemy. And even more importantly, you need cover. If you are unlucky, they will take whatever you have and leave you there in the middle of nowhere. For another five days, I walk towards a mountain. Could not tell how far it is, probably another week.

A reflection about a thousand steps away, behind a rock. It is trying to get my attention. A small glimpse of hope. Maybe this time, it will be it. Something different. A tree, a plant or a small puddle of water. When the days are getting long and tiresome, I watch the patterns forming on the ground in front of me as I walk. Lines, triangles, circles, soft waves. Sand, stones and shadows. Cannot remember being born into this land, so it must been an awful long time ago. Where I come from is also hidden behind a wall of blurred memories. Must have been similar people like me, who decided or did not, to have a son. To continue their struggle after they had passed away. In the beginning, it bothered me a lot to walk. It hurt my feet and legs, because they were not used to it. Now? It is more or less the same. The sameness in itself is something that encompasses everything around me and everything I meet, see, touch and smell. Everything and everyone and anytime. This walk will prepare me and the longer I walk, I realize that it will prepare for this very sameness. One second, it will be part of me and me part of it. It will have no boundaries. Once I was frightened but the fear has now been replaced with a question – what is there? This is the only thing that keeps me going. Behind that next stone, there will be something, which I have not seen and which will give an answer. If I cannot find it, another traveler will have to take my stick and continue. Another step into the country of rocks.

Neural Contemplation

He was floating  in the middle of a giant web, surrounded by darkness. The web was made of millions of nodes with wires connecting all of them. The nodes looked like small, red stars far from far away. The wires more like thin multi-colored threads, made of just light. It had the size of a small universe and well inside you could almost feel the information vibrate around you. He could see data flowing from node to node and from groups of nodes to other groups. Thoughts and ideas and emotions were transferred with the speed of light, like a million small springs and rivers. Each of the connected nodes – a human mind. What he saw was the total sum of all human minds, forming the most powerful and intelligent life form ever.  In a way, he was a “neural hacker”. He had found a way to plug into the core hubs and he had an overview  of this enormous consciousness. The image – or rather the mental sensation – of this giant mind was sent into his own brain through a thousand microscopic electrodes. The neural interface was a modified version of the standard interface that everyone was equipped with. Theoretically, he could modify every single transmission going through the hubs, which would affect the behaviour of The Organism as a whole. If he wanted, he could turn up the arousal level in node group 4b669 and instantly create fear, panic or euphoria. For now, he was happy to just watch the flood of information going through his brain. What he couldn’t do was to affect the physical world around him. For that, he would need access to the interfaces between the mind of The Organism and the world outside. Alternatively, he would need to go out there himself, but he knew he was too weak for that.

The Organism was supported by an AI controlled industrial machinery which ensured life support for all the countless minds connected. The industrial machine supplied it with water, crop products, synthecical protein and other nutritients. It also took care of reparation of the hardware that occasionally broke down. No one was living outside anymore. Life inside The Organism was too satisfying, simply. Reality could no longer compete, just like it had once been portrayed in the old flick “The Matrix”. The difference was that no one was forced to be part of it. But who would like not to? The notion that reality is just what you can experience with your senses, was now more true than ever.

He didn’t feel like altering anything. First, he had to learn more about it’s inner workings. He was going with great speed from one part of the consciousness to another. Some node groups were interesting, when they started to form completely new ideas randomly. Wonderful music, visual art, mathemical formulas and other more abstract thoughts were often the most interesting to watch. It had a certain harmony to it, he noticed. Like waves that came and went away. Sinus waves, Mandelbrot fractals, Nova fractals, more complicated mathematical patterns and just pure randomness was blending into creations that a single human mind could never have imagined possible.

Five minutes at the table

It’s very flat here, where I am. The surface is hard and rather dull. The light not very good either. Sometimes people sit down here and they talk about work, their families and friends. The latest parties, someone who got married, how bad the food is in the restaurant downstairs. But it doesn’t bother me so much. It can be interesting to hear all these stories. What makes me feel lonely is that no one ever notices me. Maybe it’s the darkness in here. Which is strange, because I can see a light button over there. Guess people like the darkness. For hours it’s empty, people only come here every now and then. To make time go faster I usually imagine myself in a better place. Where I can be seen and where they can touch me. Feel the structure, the fibers and all that I contain. To be honest, it’s not clear yet what is so important about me, but the few times anyone notices me they talk about me with very flattering words. “Brilliant” and “piece of art” and “have you seen this? really good!”. It will take a long, long time to find out what is good about me. Cannot even remember where I come from. It must have been twenty or maybe forty years. But I am sure, as soon as I get out of this dark room, they will say I am the one they have been waiting for. Now, I will go back to contemplate the darkness and watch the rain outside.

Working days

“The Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, ‘Let there be Internet,’ and there was Internet. God saw that the Internet was good, and he separated the Internet from the IRL world. And there was the first server outage, and there was the first web page, the first part of WWW.”

This was how it started. Fast forward a billion years.

The alarm clock wakes me up. On the way to the bathroom I pass through the kitchen, where the Computer is residing. The external hard drive is illuminating the whole room with it’s green, shiny LED light. When I start the PC from hibernation mode, I type the password wrong first. The second attempt works. The Internet is there, immediately, for me. The first thing I do is to Google a question that came into my mind during the night. It instantly gives me feedback. The awesomeness is total. Then it’s time to check the e-mails. After a while I feel I miss my friends on Facebook so I log on there a little bit too. While I wait ten seconds for the page to load, I read two headlines in the news and then tab back. Read a few interesting Facebook posts from last night. Really funny stuff, like “I am sooo sleepy” and “Now I am really hungry, but I should sleep” and “Oh, crap, have to buy more coffee. I ran out.” It makes a little bit bored after a twenty seconds or maybe it was thirty, so then it is time to look up some new music genres to check out and cool movies to download. Have this thing for 80’s movies right now, so I really have to Google a lot to find all the good stuff. Sometimes no one wants to seed the movie torrents, so then I have to wait till someone does. That makes me really, really annoyed. Why can’t people like seed all the time? To relieve the stress I play a Flash game. Really cool. I have to kill rabbits and get points for each of them. My boss thinks I am the best Flash gamer, because he can’t beat me.

After forty-five minutes on the Internet, it’s time to go offline 20 minutes, to go to work. Because it’s a little bit boring IRL I uploaded some new music to my phone, Black Eyed Peas’ latest album. When I get into the office, I turn on my computer there. It’s really boring work, because I have to click and copy-paste a lot. That makes me annoyed, so I play a little bit of Tetris on my cellphone. New high score! Sometimes I talk with with colleagues. Maria tells me she has started playing some WoW with her boyfriend. Only level 2 so far, but she is progressing fast. And she is as bored as me at work, there is not much new things on Youtube, so she is  sending funny jokes to the team in an e-mail. Everyone LOLed for a few seconds. Nothing more happens the rest of the day in the office, apart from a few e-mails. Boring things like “company policy change” and “team meeting next week”. Didn’t read them, because they looked boring.

It is only 6 in the evening. It has been a rough day.
Now it is time for some relaxation, after the tiring day. Going straight to CNN.com and Youtube and a little bit of Facebook. My old classmate got recently married. Looking at some pics for thirty seconds. Then a little bit more of news reading. That is funny! A guy ran over by a car. Some old news about what was going on the Internet, like Auto-Tune the News and the Fort Hood shooting. Maybe Fort Hood is not really Internet, but it is funny anyway. A guy going crazy, they could make a good movie about it. Would probably download it from Pirate Bay, I dont wan’t to support Hollywood, they are ripping off hard working consumers like me. After that I go to the kitchen to get a sandwich and then I read a little bit more on Facebook. Some guy posted a link to a Youtube music video. It is funny. A weird remix of a Jackson song, with smurf voices. A friend posts pictures of his cool home cinema studio. He doesn’t need to go to the cinema anymore. Way cool. And of course with a hacked Xbox so he can watch all the movies and surf at the same time. Maybe he has to get a work-around for the hack, because they started blocking Xbox pirates. Those greedy companies who try to stop the competition should be shut down. Who do they think we are? Rich people can pay their crappy products.

After some minutes of Facebook I start surfing Wired. It is also cool. Reading an article about how the military uses some system that is like Youtube. Really cool. The future wars will be like playing a game or surfing. That’s a bit LOL. When I am reading on Wired, my friends started chatting with me on Gmail and MSN and IRC. It is also quite funny. They tell me about their days, what they had found on the Internet. Lots of links to LOL vidoes and pictures. Like a guy who slipped on a burger and landed in a swimming pool. Really, really funny. And about the same time I read about Lady Gaga, so I remember that song, “Poker Face”. Watching it on Youtube again. And because it was related to that South Park episode some weeks ago I watch that episode again. A few times I have to tab back because my friends write replies in the chat. Cartman is really LOL! Now it is time to watch Dr House, Dexter and the newest South Park. Maing some popcorn to make it a better experience, a little bit like being in the cinema. South Park has some LOL jokes and it makes me really tired so I go to bed. When I am laying in bed I watch a music video on Youtube. Think it was Amy Winehosue and Blackeyed Peas. Another day is waiting for me tomorrow, so I put my laptop on the floor and go to sleep. Before going to sleep, I start downloading a little bit more albums and movies, to prepare for a paaaarty weekend. And some music to keep me motivated at work. It’s not so easy when you have to do boring things all day long, how did people survive in the 80’s or 50’s? Seriously.

Reunion of modern, dysfunctional people

They exchanged glances, Philip looked away for a brief moment and thought “It must be wrong, it can’t be her.” She had an expression in her face like when you come home in the evening, expecting some calm time in front of the TV and you see your mother-in-law standing in the doorway. Surprised, but not happy. Her expression changed to an artificial smile. Philip had been right. It was her. Danielle. They had not met for over ten years. Last time at a party, where they had classified as incompatible at the very first moment. Totally incompatible. She was the good girl. He was the weird, bad guy. Not conforming to the “successful people norm”. To meet her now, was awkward. He had expressed his disliking with a few arrogant remarks at that party. She, had naturally, placed him in the “jerk, loser, pretentious” category. Now he was here. He had to deal with it. A quick walk over the floor and he was there, shaking her hand.
“Hey, long time no see! How are you doing? What brings you here?”
“What are you doing here?”
“A few small jobs. Just to pay the rent you know.” She didn’t know. He was a smuggler now. Coordinating the import of chemicals to drug labs. It was a huge business. Someone had to supply all the ecstasy, meth and LSD labs with their raw materials. He was that one.
“I remember now. You were at that party a few years ago.”
“So, what are you up to now?”
“Writing for a magazine. Some stuff online. About celebrities. Have to earn a living too. Guess you are not reading Stars Magazine?”
“Not my type of literature, but it sounds like a good career. Let’s sit down, I have the table over there.” They went over to the table and sat down. It was a nice place. Huge windows, facing the water canals. The light, wooden walls were covered with little pieces of funny metal objects in all shapes, the modern type of art. People were going to this place for long chats with their friends and colleagues or to just read one of the many newspapers they offered in the stand in the middle of the enormous place. They served all types of drinks and their sandwiches were famous. Danielle continued their conversation.
“Came to the town a week ago. Have been here with some friends, went to a few concerts. But tell me what you have been doing since we met last time.”
“Got a job in London, for an importing business. It’s paying well. Cannot complain.”
“Is that somehow related to what you did before.. you know… with your weird friends from Norway?” She whispered the last words.
“No one can hear us.. you mean my weed smoking buddies.. if it’s about drugs?”
“Yes.”
“What if it is? Does it bother you?”
“Well, yes.. I don’t want to have anything to do with it and I don’t support it. Morally. I never did, back then, and I don’t know either.”
“So.. you did everything.. morally?”
“I don’t sell drugs.”
“You never took a joint in your whole life?”
“No. Honestly. Never. Would never do.”
“Is it because it is illegal? That it makes you a criminal?”
“Only losers do drugs and hang out with gangs. Tell me exactly what you do, that is so innocent about it.”
“There is no ‘gang’ and I stopped the drugs.”
“Not even alcohol?”
“Not even that.”
“Oh, so you are Jesus or what? The fucking good guy?” The conversation had turned bad quickly. Too quickly. They were both upset.
“Listen.. what do you do yourself all day long? You write about celebrities.. stars.. right? Those super models, musicians and film actors.”
“Yes.. it’s a decent job!”
“Is it? You invent stories about people and ruin their lives. Tell the masses they raped their children and got fucked up on coke and stole money from their parents when they grew up and that they cheated on their boyfriend. You are just as filthy as me. I supply what the people want – drugs. You supply what the people want – cheap gossip. What’s the difference between us? Just because you dress nicely, talk nicely and have a nice job doesn’t mean what you are doing is any better than what I do. ”
“Well.. for a start.. I don’t make people kill themselves after an overdose of drugs. If that doesn’t bother you, something is wrong. ”
“Someone dying does bother me. What about that actor who committed suicide last year, after the press wrote about his gay relationship? Wasnt that in a sense.. to ‘kill’ someone?”
“You can’t put it like that! It’s not the same arena.. ”
“Fucking hell it is! You make people’s life miserable, to amuse the masses. I, on the other hand, at least give people a few hours of fun. People who probably never have much fun anyway. You can’t fucking therapize all the problems away, sometimes you just need that joint or pill or cocktail to escape your miserable life. That’s where I come in.”
“You are self-righteous, psychopathic moron and if I ever see you near my friends I will put a fucking sign on your head saying you are a criminal!”
“Well fuck you! Why did I ever start talking to you?”
“Yeah, why did you?! If you don’t have the guts to grow up and take a normal job as a normal man, you should be locked up.”
“You fucking pretentious, bitch!” He threw his drink in her face.
Here Danielle took a fork, stabbed Philip in his shoulder, who started screaming. The blood was flowing and the waiters started rushing towards their table. Now they were both screaming at each other furiously and the blood formed a little pool on the floor.

Ok, that didn’t go too well. How about we do it all over again and now use a different approach?

“Hi! Excuse me, it’s you Danielle, right?”
“Is indeed. How are you, Philip?”
“Thank you, not too bad. Enjoying a drink here. Maybe you would like to join me at the table?”
“Oh, lovely. Of course. It’s been such a long time since I saw you.”
“I heard you found a writing job for a .. magazine. Congratulations!”
“Oh thank you. It’s one of those celebrity magazines. It is a quite good way to make a living. How do you do yourself now?”
“Have a few jobs here and there, getting by. A drink? On my tab.”
“Yes, thank you! I will just have a mineral water. I only have an hour, so we better do the most of the time. Do you mind if I ask what area you are working in?”
“In the chemical business. I would like not to discuss the particulars of the work, because I have to protect my clientèle.”
“Of course! How are you enjoying your stay here in the town?”
“It’s been a pleasure so far. Have been to a few clubs and the museums of course. The art is famous here.”
“Yes, I went to the museum of modern art the other day, and their exhibition about the development of the town was quite interesting. Have you seen it?”
“Actually, I did. There was one thing that really caught my attention, when they talked about the role of the cafés as a cultural ‘motor’.”

And so the conversation went on for another hour or so and they both left happily and drunk.
No blood and no screaming. Everyone happy. Or were they?

P.I. Jones #1.2

He had got the call because of a suspected murder last night. A member of the family Holden, Max Holden, had tragically died in the wine cellar of their mansion. P.I. Jones was driving along a country side gravel road. The Monday morning sun was shining and he could smell the grass of the fields surrounding him. The landscape flat and the houses big. It was a neighbourhood where people with old money were living. As he turned right onto the private road leading up to the enormous property of the Holden family, he turned down the radio and looked at the tall trees surrounding the mansion. It was an astonishing sight. “They have lots of money” he thought for himself. After stopping next to the fountain in front of the main door, the butler came to meet him.

- I am P.I. Jones. You called me, right?

- That’s right. Mr Holden is very eager to sort out this mess. It’s a tragedy, really. He thinks Max committed suicide. But please come with me and we will tell you the rest.

Mr. Jones took his brief case with him and waited for the butler to park his car. The exterior of the mansion was painted white and the architectural style classic. He saw a glimpse of a huge garden behind the mansion, with flowers, ponds, trees and a pavilion.

The butler opened the main doors for them and they went into the entrance hall, which was really a hall. In the ceiling they had a cupol window lighting up the hall with natural light. Mr Jones unbuttoned his coat and put it on the coat hanger together with his hat. They went into  the dining room. The light was dimmed and the smoke was thick in the air. Around the walls there were paintings from surrealistic and abstract painters.  All the members of the family were gathered. The father, Nick Holden, was a big man, in his 60’s dressed in a dark suit. His cigar was the source of the thick fog in the room. The wife, Margaret Holden, was a slender woman in her 50’s, dressed in a red dress. Jenny Holden, mother of Nick Holden, was sitting in a rocking chair. She was reaching her 90’s, her hair gray.
Present in the room was also the butler, Kyle Smith. He looked like a simple man, dressed in a white shirt and simple black trousers.
P.I. Jones went straight to business after introducing himself. He started interviewing the suspects, one by one.

- When I call you I want you to come into the parlour. Let’s start with you, Nick.

They went into the parlour, where they could have some privacy. The parlour was smaller than the dining room and with a wooden coffee table and some chairs next to a window facing the garden at the back.

- Where were you the night Max was found dead?
- Well, I was in the office, working late on a project until around 10 in the evening. I was home by 11.

- Can anyone verify that?
- Ask my wife, Margaret.
- What do you think happened last night?
- When I left, he was going down to the cellar to look for a bottle of wine. That’s what the others told me.
- Is the cellar door locked with a key?
- Yes. The key is always laying under a stone next to the cellar door.

P.I. Jones let Nick leave the room and called Margaret.
She said that Nick had come home around 11, like he said.

- And where were you?
- I was working on my novel, at home. The butler can confirm it. He was around most of the time. A few times he was out, though. I am not saying he killed Max, but he has a habit of disappearing mysteriously late in the evenings and then come back after fifteen minutes. Apart from that, I have no idea what happened. Max was such a good man, didn’t do bad to anyone. He was a big fan of racing and used to drive his old car on the weekends. It would have been less surprising if he had a car accident. To die like that, in our own basement, it’s just odd. He was of perfect health.

Next he called for Jenny, the oldest member of the family.

- The night Max died, there was a noise outside. It sounded like the neighbours were running some of their farming machinery. Half an hour later, the sound was gone. That was around 9.30. It could not have been Nick’s cab I heard, because he had been away the whole day, working late in the office. Max went down to the cellar around 7 maybe, because he had a habit of reading books there and drinking wine. He was unemployed and spent most of his evenings there.

She didn’t have more to add so called Kyle, the butler, finally. The butler refused to say anything. He seemed very anxious about something. P.I. Jones noted it. He went downstairs to the cellar (the door was open). He looked around and took a few notes. He went upstairs again to the dining room. He scratched his head and thought for a few moments, then he asked everyone in the room to empty whatever they had in their pockets, onto the dining table. They did as he asked and he looked at the various watches, coins, paper notes, keys and other things they had taken out of their pockets. He contemplated for a few more minutes, until he announced that he knew that Max had been murdered and that he knew who was guilty.

What name did he mention?

Meeting with salesman

INT. MEETING WITH THE SALESMAN – NIGHT

Man is seated next to the window, in his living room. Some
nice jazz music is playing. He is dressed in white shirt and
black suit pants. He is reading a book. He has a small table
in front of him. There is another chair on the opposite side.
The man is reading (he is reading The Bonfire of the
Vanities) and drinking some coffee. It’s very dark in the
room, apart from some light from the lamp on the left hand
side of the man.

Suddenly (after 2 minutes) another man appears in the other
chair. His face cannot be seen clearly first. The first man
looks up from his book, with a quite confused look but after
a while he changes his expression, it appears like he
recognizes the second man or something.

SALESMAN
Do you enjoy the coffee?

FIRST MAN
(a long silence)
Yes.

SALESMAN
It’s good for you.

FIRST MAN
(sits silent and just
watches)
..

SALESMAN
We have been here before, do you
remember?

FIRST MAN
(silent for about 5-10
seconds, looks a little
scared)
What is your point?

SALESMAN
That is not an answer. But, OK. We
have known each other for quite
some time. Just wanted to come by.
Hope I am not disturbing you too
much.

FIRST MAN
(looks suspiciously at the
second man)
..

SALESMAN
Actually, there is a reason that I
am here. Maybe you know it already?

FIRST MAN
No. Should I?

SALESMAN
There is something I want to show
you.
(the man pulls out some
photos from his suitcase,
motif cannot be seen)
What do you think? It doesn’t maybe
look that good maybe, but I will
tell you a story, to make it more
clear… A couple of years ago I
used to work with things like
cleaning toilets, collecting
garbage and selling useless
electronic stuff to old people who
didn’t know what they were buying.
My girl friend couldn’t really cope
with me, because I was always
coming home tired, angry and messed
up. We broke up and it was not a
very nice break-up. I was very
jealous and paranoid and accused
her of sleeping with my neighbour,
which was untrue. She was nasty too
and started smashing my things and
sent anonymous letters to my boss
saying I had stolen equipment at
work and sold to a competing
company. It ended when she put all
my belongings on fire outside our
house and then changed the locks so
I couldn’t get in. I got fired from
my job and my girl friend moved in
with a local drug dealer instead,
after selling our house. Myself I
ended up on a park bench for about
a week when I couldn’t find a place
to sleep. This is when I met a man
who showed me the photos you see
now. He told me that if I was
interested I could get it for a
good price and since I felt
everything was hopeless I decided
to give it a try.
(silence for ten seconds,
with a mystical amuzed
smile)



FIRST MAN
So… what happened? When you bought these, did things change?

SALESMAN
Someone spotted me on that bench
and gave me a job in a commercial.
It paid well and I went for a
career within this media company.
Now I am head of my own department
and it seems like I have everything
I could ever ask for – a nice car,
a good job, good friends. I could
continue forever about how good
everything is, but I would just
bore you.
(silence for ten seconds)
So what do you say? I am now offering the same thing to you.

FIRST MAN
Well… I don’t know. It sounds very strange. Are you sure
there is no catch?

SALESMAN
What would that be? Think about it.
This is the best place you will
ever see.

ROBERT
It definitely looks nice. And what do I do if it doesn’t work out well?

SALESMAN
Don’t worry about. Wouldn’t you like to see your children grow up and get a nice education and luck finding a good mate? There is really something special to this place.

ROBERT
Couldn’t it just be a coincidence?

SALESMAN
Everything changed from one day to the other.

ROBERT
Well.. it certainly sounds so.

SALESMAN
Mm, this could be your chance of a lifetime to get all you ever dreamed of.

ROBERT
Where can I talk with other people with similar experiences?

SALESMAN
The best part is that you don’t have to pay until later.

ROBERT
Aha..

SALESMAN
Yes, most people chose to pay in ten years and we can arrange something like that for you, if you wish. What do you say about five years?

ROBERT
That sounds like an awful long time but I guess it would be good. And since I know you. Then I quite certainly have a lot more money than now.

SALESMAN
Ok, if you are ready, then you can just sign here, it will be all good.

A sweet and better life

He woke up to the tones of “Shy Boy”, playing at the radio. The room was starting to feel cold so he decided to get up. The sun was shining in through the curtains. It was December and a thin layer of snow could be seen on the tree-covered slopes outside. The eyes and his back was itching a little bit and it felt relieving to scratch the itchiness away. He reached for the radio, turned up the volume to almost-too-much-for-the-neighbours. He started posing in front of his mirror and couldn’t help laughing a little bit. “This day will not be so bad, after all” he said to himself. The room looked almost sterile now, since his cleaning frenzy last night. Every little piece of IKEA- and second hand 50’s furniture perfectly in order, even the candle glasses on the tea table were polished on the inside.

Standing in front of the washbasin he looked back at himself in the mirror. While waiting for the water from the faucet to get cold enough to be drinkable, he realised that the face of decadence has a certain charm. Yes, decadence was the word. Filthy, egocentric, self-inflicted decadence. The last weeks had been like living in a cave, with only his delusions as his companions. Paper notes everywhere. Random thoughts. Attempts to start a million grand things. Cigarette butts, white powder and razor blades. All the grand ideas already forgotten. But what did that matter? He felt great now. This time it would be real. No more dreams. Here he was; admiring his own image in the mirror and at the same time despising himself and his behaviour. Dark circles was showing under his eyes and the skin was pale. After drenching his face in cold water he picked up a white towel and dried it thoroughly. The phone in the other end of the room started ringing. He ignored it. He continued to admire his own image. Tomorrow would be the first day of another era in his life. He would be in Mexico at the Copacabana beach, turning tables and smoking joints. He would hear the screams of a hundred souls in exstasy. The circle completed.