I have had this dream ever since I can remember.
I dream about an infinite staircase, and I am going down it. In the beginning I walk, then start running down the stairs. After some time I start jumping over the steps to go down faster. Since the staircase is infinite, I never reach the bottom though.
In fact, I'm so used to this dream now that whenever I have it, I realize that it is actually a dream, but still continue dreaming.
I wonder if it means anything, and if anyone has had such dreams.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
The Impossible Choice
Peter opened his eyes slowly, and let the cool morning light flow in. As he looked out the window, he saw the blue autumn sky, providing the background for leaves drifting down to the earth after having lived out their lifetimes in the heights of the trees. This thought jolted him back to reality, a reality that was as ugly as the morning was beautiful.
He quickly showered and grabbed some breakfast before running off to the hospital. His wife, Sara, was to have an operation today to remove the cancerous tumours that were corroding her from within. Sara was such a sweet little woman, that it was hard to imagine why she should suffer so. ”Life is not just”, thought Peter as he entered the hospital. Just a fraction of a second before he entered Sara’s room, all signs of worry vanished from his face, and he greeted Sara with a great smile. Peter had done this so many times, that it came to him with clockwork precision. Unfortunately, this time to practice his change of expression came at a huge cost, and all of the money that they had been saving for that dream vacation, for their home in the suburbs, for their children’s college education, every last penny was gone. But Peter couldn’t think of these now. As he saw Sara, he thought that she was still so beautiful. He knew how much he loved her, and how much he wanted her to be happy.
Sara was very happy to see Peter, but the heavy medication that she was on permitted her to only manage a feeble smile. They sat there together for a while, talking about each other, holding hands. The moment that Peter dreaded the most had arrived. He had to tell her now. Sara knew that Peter had lost his last job two months ago. Instead of joining another low paying job as a restaurant help, Peter decided to take a chance, and entered an internship that paid him nothing for first two months. However, if he was selected at the end of this period, he would start earning five times as much as he could earn in any of the jobs he could get easily. Both of them had decided that it was worth the gamble. Peter had done very well at the academy, and was confident of gaining the position. He had worked very hard for the last two months, had foreseen everything that a client would want, and had pleased customers on every deal he closed. What Peter did not, and could never foresee, was that the final selection interview would be scheduled on the same day as Sara’s operation. He had to leave, and when he told Sara about it, she was surprisingly strong. Sara told Peter not to worry, and convinced him that there was nothing he could do during the operation, it was the doctors’ show all the way. Hence, it was perfectly alright for Peter to go for the interview. So, reluctant as he was, Peter decided to leave Sara until the afternoon.
As Peter was leaving, the matron called him to her table, as she had some forms for him to fill out. That took quite a lot of time, and Peter was afraid he’d be late for the interview. He rushed out into the street and hailed a taxi, an extravagance, considering his present financial condition, but a necessity, considering the hour. As the taxi rolled out onto the main road, and subsequently sped over the flyovers, Peter began to relax. He was confident that he’d reach the office in a few minutes, and ten minutes remained before the scheduled starting time. Peter closed his eyes, and recalled all the work he’d done in the past two months. The first deal he’d got after making thirty-odd calls, the first time a client had been delighted at his handling of the deal, the first time a client called back and expressly asked for Peter’s services. All this helped Peter calm his nerves, and he was sure he’d get the job.
The taxi suddenly started decelerating, and in less than twenty seconds, it came to a standstill at the end of a huge line of bumper-to bumper traffic. ”Merde !!”, said the French taxi driver, and jolted Peter out of his réverie. As he looked out over the flyover, he saw that the traffic jam extended from the top of the flyover till the road down below, up to a very long distance. He could see his destination from here, but estimated a ten-minute walk down to the building. He would be late, but not too late perhaps. ”Why must it happen now?”, thought Peter as he stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and started walking. He was walking quite briskly, and the closer he got to the building, the faster he walked. As he left the flyover, Peter could see the famous fountain in front of the museum. Tourists were a regular feature there. Peter thought how fortunate some people were, who had enough money and not enough worries, so that they could visit some place that they’d read about somewhere, and throw coins into a fountain which was supposed to return favours for the coins. How could anyone believe something like that?
Peter’s train of thought was interrupted by a loud screech, followed by a blow to his shin. He was thrown off balance. He had run into the middle of the street as he was looking the other way at the fountain, and had been hit by a car. He was unhurt, thanks to the driver’s excellent reaction time, but his portfolio file, which contained all his hard work through the internship training period, was ruined. It had fallen to the side of the street, and was soggy by the time Peter could pick it up. Peter’s jacket’s right hand sleeve was also torn, but Peter couldn’t wait any more. He quickly got up, collected his things, and rushed off towards the office, leaving the traffic disrupted and eighty-three surprised pedestrians and twenty- four equally surprised motorists following his progress with their eyes.
Peter reached the building looking like a mess, and he left his dripping portfolio in the waiting room. The interview was a disaster for Peter. He had apologized for his appearance, giving an honest account of what happened, but he did not believe it would melt the hearts of the boardroom sharks that made up the jury. There was an hour-long wait before the results would be declared, and all Peter could think of now was something that would help him get the position. He had already lost all hope, but was still trying to think of something, hoping against hope, that would help him get the job. Suddenly, he saw the famous fountain through the window, and he knew what he had to do. He ran out to the fountain, but this time he was more careful about the traffic, and reached there safely. He fished out a coin from his pocket, and prayed hard for the job before he dropped the metal disc into the sparkling water. He couldn’t believe what he was doing. All his life, he had laughed at the fools who willingly dropped coins into a pool of water, and today, he had become one of them.
When Peter returned to the building, the results had already been declared. They were on the board. He saw the candidates crowded around the single piece of paper. From a distance, Peter could see that only two had been chosen from a pool of thirty applicants. As he came closer, all the world became silent, and nothing existed except the paper and himself. He read the names, and could not believe his eyes. The fountain had done what it was fabled to do! Peter had been chosen!! He was overjoyed, and after meeting the jury members, and congratulating the only other successful candidate, he rushed out, and back to see Sara.
Peter was ecstatic. By the end of the week he would have enough cash and all his problems would be over. He would have a steady job, and Sara and he could start saving for their future again. He could start paying off his debts, and would be a free man before the year was over. Soon, through the net of a hundred of different things he could think of to do with the money, Peter could see the hospital. He would see Sara soon.
Entering the hall before the operation theater, Peter sensed that something was wrong. Why was the doctor outside? Shoudn’t he be still operating on Sara? Maybe he had finished, and Sara was back in her room, recovering. Peter ran to the room. The doctor had seen him by this time, and followed him in. Sara wasn’t in her room, and Peter was about to go back to the doctor to ask where she was, when the doctor entered, and closed the door behind him. One look at the doctor’s face told Peter what had happened. The doctor explained everything. Sara was gone, she had not survived the operation. He tried his best to comfort Peter, but Peter just sat there silently, staring blankly. All he could think about was the fountain, where he had prayed for the wrong thing. He could never forgive himself for making the wrong choice.
He quickly showered and grabbed some breakfast before running off to the hospital. His wife, Sara, was to have an operation today to remove the cancerous tumours that were corroding her from within. Sara was such a sweet little woman, that it was hard to imagine why she should suffer so. ”Life is not just”, thought Peter as he entered the hospital. Just a fraction of a second before he entered Sara’s room, all signs of worry vanished from his face, and he greeted Sara with a great smile. Peter had done this so many times, that it came to him with clockwork precision. Unfortunately, this time to practice his change of expression came at a huge cost, and all of the money that they had been saving for that dream vacation, for their home in the suburbs, for their children’s college education, every last penny was gone. But Peter couldn’t think of these now. As he saw Sara, he thought that she was still so beautiful. He knew how much he loved her, and how much he wanted her to be happy.
Sara was very happy to see Peter, but the heavy medication that she was on permitted her to only manage a feeble smile. They sat there together for a while, talking about each other, holding hands. The moment that Peter dreaded the most had arrived. He had to tell her now. Sara knew that Peter had lost his last job two months ago. Instead of joining another low paying job as a restaurant help, Peter decided to take a chance, and entered an internship that paid him nothing for first two months. However, if he was selected at the end of this period, he would start earning five times as much as he could earn in any of the jobs he could get easily. Both of them had decided that it was worth the gamble. Peter had done very well at the academy, and was confident of gaining the position. He had worked very hard for the last two months, had foreseen everything that a client would want, and had pleased customers on every deal he closed. What Peter did not, and could never foresee, was that the final selection interview would be scheduled on the same day as Sara’s operation. He had to leave, and when he told Sara about it, she was surprisingly strong. Sara told Peter not to worry, and convinced him that there was nothing he could do during the operation, it was the doctors’ show all the way. Hence, it was perfectly alright for Peter to go for the interview. So, reluctant as he was, Peter decided to leave Sara until the afternoon.
As Peter was leaving, the matron called him to her table, as she had some forms for him to fill out. That took quite a lot of time, and Peter was afraid he’d be late for the interview. He rushed out into the street and hailed a taxi, an extravagance, considering his present financial condition, but a necessity, considering the hour. As the taxi rolled out onto the main road, and subsequently sped over the flyovers, Peter began to relax. He was confident that he’d reach the office in a few minutes, and ten minutes remained before the scheduled starting time. Peter closed his eyes, and recalled all the work he’d done in the past two months. The first deal he’d got after making thirty-odd calls, the first time a client had been delighted at his handling of the deal, the first time a client called back and expressly asked for Peter’s services. All this helped Peter calm his nerves, and he was sure he’d get the job.
The taxi suddenly started decelerating, and in less than twenty seconds, it came to a standstill at the end of a huge line of bumper-to bumper traffic. ”Merde !!”, said the French taxi driver, and jolted Peter out of his réverie. As he looked out over the flyover, he saw that the traffic jam extended from the top of the flyover till the road down below, up to a very long distance. He could see his destination from here, but estimated a ten-minute walk down to the building. He would be late, but not too late perhaps. ”Why must it happen now?”, thought Peter as he stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and started walking. He was walking quite briskly, and the closer he got to the building, the faster he walked. As he left the flyover, Peter could see the famous fountain in front of the museum. Tourists were a regular feature there. Peter thought how fortunate some people were, who had enough money and not enough worries, so that they could visit some place that they’d read about somewhere, and throw coins into a fountain which was supposed to return favours for the coins. How could anyone believe something like that?
Peter’s train of thought was interrupted by a loud screech, followed by a blow to his shin. He was thrown off balance. He had run into the middle of the street as he was looking the other way at the fountain, and had been hit by a car. He was unhurt, thanks to the driver’s excellent reaction time, but his portfolio file, which contained all his hard work through the internship training period, was ruined. It had fallen to the side of the street, and was soggy by the time Peter could pick it up. Peter’s jacket’s right hand sleeve was also torn, but Peter couldn’t wait any more. He quickly got up, collected his things, and rushed off towards the office, leaving the traffic disrupted and eighty-three surprised pedestrians and twenty- four equally surprised motorists following his progress with their eyes.
Peter reached the building looking like a mess, and he left his dripping portfolio in the waiting room. The interview was a disaster for Peter. He had apologized for his appearance, giving an honest account of what happened, but he did not believe it would melt the hearts of the boardroom sharks that made up the jury. There was an hour-long wait before the results would be declared, and all Peter could think of now was something that would help him get the position. He had already lost all hope, but was still trying to think of something, hoping against hope, that would help him get the job. Suddenly, he saw the famous fountain through the window, and he knew what he had to do. He ran out to the fountain, but this time he was more careful about the traffic, and reached there safely. He fished out a coin from his pocket, and prayed hard for the job before he dropped the metal disc into the sparkling water. He couldn’t believe what he was doing. All his life, he had laughed at the fools who willingly dropped coins into a pool of water, and today, he had become one of them.
When Peter returned to the building, the results had already been declared. They were on the board. He saw the candidates crowded around the single piece of paper. From a distance, Peter could see that only two had been chosen from a pool of thirty applicants. As he came closer, all the world became silent, and nothing existed except the paper and himself. He read the names, and could not believe his eyes. The fountain had done what it was fabled to do! Peter had been chosen!! He was overjoyed, and after meeting the jury members, and congratulating the only other successful candidate, he rushed out, and back to see Sara.
Peter was ecstatic. By the end of the week he would have enough cash and all his problems would be over. He would have a steady job, and Sara and he could start saving for their future again. He could start paying off his debts, and would be a free man before the year was over. Soon, through the net of a hundred of different things he could think of to do with the money, Peter could see the hospital. He would see Sara soon.
Entering the hall before the operation theater, Peter sensed that something was wrong. Why was the doctor outside? Shoudn’t he be still operating on Sara? Maybe he had finished, and Sara was back in her room, recovering. Peter ran to the room. The doctor had seen him by this time, and followed him in. Sara wasn’t in her room, and Peter was about to go back to the doctor to ask where she was, when the doctor entered, and closed the door behind him. One look at the doctor’s face told Peter what had happened. The doctor explained everything. Sara was gone, she had not survived the operation. He tried his best to comfort Peter, but Peter just sat there silently, staring blankly. All he could think about was the fountain, where he had prayed for the wrong thing. He could never forgive himself for making the wrong choice.
2063 AD
On October 21, 2063, as the maglev train shot silently through the tunnel connecting the cities on opposite sides of the chain of hills, there was just one single sound that rang out feebly. A tiny pebble, dislodged from its place at the ceiling of the tunnel by a small rodent, had struck the side of the train. The impact at 450 km/hr had created a nasty gash about an inch long on the glossy surface of the train. Immediately, there started a silent movement among the meshwork that lay below the surface of the vehicle. The arteries that were exposed by the gash were now sensing an imbalance between the chemical potential within them and outside. The pasty material inside them started diffusing out of the semi-permeable membrane of the mesh. As it came into contact with air, it slowly hardened. The rate of diffusion got slower, but it was never quite zero. As the train emerged out of the kilometre long tunnel, its surface was smooth and flawless to the human eye. To the computer eye, that is, sensors, the surface was near perfect. There was a recorded log of the outflow of material from the meshwork in the concerned area. A repair schedule had been fixed when the train would reach its terminal station.
After the passengers had dismounted, the train pulled into its hangar. The repair robot moved to the specified coordinates and measured the depression of a few microns at the site of the accident. The robot extended its arm and sprayed a small quantity of the same pasty stuff on to the surface of the train. Now the body was flawless to robot eyes too. The train moved out for another trip.
Though steel was still used for most of the beams and columns of the shell of the mega-city, and also for the supporting rail of the maglev trains, this ’pasty stuff’ had revolutionized the world of materials since the first decade of the 21st century. It was a lightweight material with adequate strength to endure light impacts. Traffic jams and in general road accidents had dropped to zero after all vehicles became controlled by the supercomputer at the traffic department. The only accidents were of the form described at the beginning: the so-called ’natural catastrophes’. Even with these accidents, the self-healing process done by the meshwork below had rendered this material the universal choice.
Close relatives of our material here were extensively used in hospitals, and to a lesser extent, in common households, where the walls were covered with a germ repelling paint. The more affluent customers had a mesh installed directly on the walls before they were painted. This gave their walls a self-healing property too.
After dinner, each member of the family put his/her plate into the dishwasher. As the last plate was in, the machine started its daily task. After the leftover food had been scraped off, the clean plates were dried and elevated out of the machine. A free flowing clear liquid filled the chamber of the dishwasher. This liquid was the new universal solvent. It dissolved almost everything except the inner lining of the dishwasher and the pipes that carried it. As the liquid flushed out of the machine, the chamber was left sparkling clean. The underground pipes from dishwashers, industrial plants, and toilets, among a variety of other places, carried the garbage-saturated fluid to the processing station. Here by the simple principle of fractional distillation, the low-boiling liquid evaporated first, leaving all other residues behind. This waste was divided between biodegradable and non-biodegradable on the basis of its source. The residues were sent for recycling or degradation, or for filling purposes.
Now that dinner was done, I proceeded to my favorite couch. It was a new one. It had in its memory, the comfort settings of all the family members. As I sat down on it, the sensors identified me by my weight and posture of sitting. Signals were sent to the small nodes at the large number of joints just under the soft surface of the chair. These nodes, on receiving the signals, produced an appropriate temperature at the respective joint. Taking all the joints in conjunction the effect produced was wonderful, the shape of the couch changed to suit me. I felt myself sinking in ever so slightly, yet there was a firm support for my lower back. The small thermal expansions and contractions had molded the couch just for me. I decided to buy a bed of the same series.
Just then my sister walked in. She had bought one of those new skin patches. She tapped her right temple lightly and a soft glow of the right side of her face indicated that the patch was active. With a very subtle movement of her eyes, cheek and eyebrows, she switched on the television. This patch was synchronized with most household electronic devices. The signals through movement of eyes, eyebrows and cheeks were simple and easy to learn. Each gesture produced a different state of stress inside the patch. The material of the patch was inlaid with several million microscopic piezoelectric crystals arranged in a network. As the stress was relieved, all the stressed piezoelectric crystals released a unique combined electric signal. This signal, within limits of human error, was interpreted by a small processor hanging behind my sister’s ear, and sent wirelessly to the concerned device as an instruction. Even considering the wide range error for humans, it was still possible for the processor to identify and send several hundred thousand different signals. The TV showed an advertisement for the new skin patch that would allow us to type and control cursors on computers with just the subtle gestures of our faces. Of course, learning to use it was an issue.
Suddenly, I thought of my uncle, who worked at a public Laundromat until it closed down nearly thirty years ago. Not only that particular Laundromat, but all of them. All clothes today are made of material having an obtuse angle of contact with all water-based liquids, grease, dirt and most foodstuffs. Washing clothes was a thing of the past. Just a simple jerk to the cloth was enough to remove any loosely adherent dust.
I slept early that night; I had a presentation the following day. The next morning I was up and ready to present my idea for the new line of cars that our company would start manufacturing. Reaching the office, I headed directly for the conference room where the board members were already waiting. I pressed my thumb lightly on the small pad on the wall beside the door. The green light confirmed recognition and the doors parted to let me in. After the necessary protocol, I drew up the slides in each of the directors’ personal viewing screens from my computer. The new car was to have a wholly different type of propulsion. The spherical wheels of the car would fit into a larger cavity on the underside of the car leaving a small section outside to contact the road. The inside of this cavity and one equator of each wheel would be lined with magnets. With the static magnetic field, the repulsion would balance the weight of the car and leave the required gap between the car body and the road as well as the wheel and the cavity. Superimposed on this field would be another dynamic field, which would cause the wheel to rotate such that the magnets on the wheel remain in a vertical plane. This system would eliminate friction between the car and wheel and provide acceleration. I had had this idea when I was in engineering college, but it had not proved feasible due to the large mass of high strength magnets. With the discovery of the magnetism of carbon, it has now become easy to use this system with lightweight carbon magnets and electromagnets. The directors loved the idea and sanctioned the funds for research in this area.
That evening I had a small party celebrating the success of my presentation with a few relatives and close friends. At night, I sat down to watch a movie. My friends had recommended it as the best watch among the latest releases. It was about a young engineer in the decade of 2000-2010 who had drawn up plans of several of the technologies that common people use today. Truly, today’s science fiction is tomorrow’s science fact.
After the passengers had dismounted, the train pulled into its hangar. The repair robot moved to the specified coordinates and measured the depression of a few microns at the site of the accident. The robot extended its arm and sprayed a small quantity of the same pasty stuff on to the surface of the train. Now the body was flawless to robot eyes too. The train moved out for another trip.
Though steel was still used for most of the beams and columns of the shell of the mega-city, and also for the supporting rail of the maglev trains, this ’pasty stuff’ had revolutionized the world of materials since the first decade of the 21st century. It was a lightweight material with adequate strength to endure light impacts. Traffic jams and in general road accidents had dropped to zero after all vehicles became controlled by the supercomputer at the traffic department. The only accidents were of the form described at the beginning: the so-called ’natural catastrophes’. Even with these accidents, the self-healing process done by the meshwork below had rendered this material the universal choice.
Close relatives of our material here were extensively used in hospitals, and to a lesser extent, in common households, where the walls were covered with a germ repelling paint. The more affluent customers had a mesh installed directly on the walls before they were painted. This gave their walls a self-healing property too.
After dinner, each member of the family put his/her plate into the dishwasher. As the last plate was in, the machine started its daily task. After the leftover food had been scraped off, the clean plates were dried and elevated out of the machine. A free flowing clear liquid filled the chamber of the dishwasher. This liquid was the new universal solvent. It dissolved almost everything except the inner lining of the dishwasher and the pipes that carried it. As the liquid flushed out of the machine, the chamber was left sparkling clean. The underground pipes from dishwashers, industrial plants, and toilets, among a variety of other places, carried the garbage-saturated fluid to the processing station. Here by the simple principle of fractional distillation, the low-boiling liquid evaporated first, leaving all other residues behind. This waste was divided between biodegradable and non-biodegradable on the basis of its source. The residues were sent for recycling or degradation, or for filling purposes.
Now that dinner was done, I proceeded to my favorite couch. It was a new one. It had in its memory, the comfort settings of all the family members. As I sat down on it, the sensors identified me by my weight and posture of sitting. Signals were sent to the small nodes at the large number of joints just under the soft surface of the chair. These nodes, on receiving the signals, produced an appropriate temperature at the respective joint. Taking all the joints in conjunction the effect produced was wonderful, the shape of the couch changed to suit me. I felt myself sinking in ever so slightly, yet there was a firm support for my lower back. The small thermal expansions and contractions had molded the couch just for me. I decided to buy a bed of the same series.
Just then my sister walked in. She had bought one of those new skin patches. She tapped her right temple lightly and a soft glow of the right side of her face indicated that the patch was active. With a very subtle movement of her eyes, cheek and eyebrows, she switched on the television. This patch was synchronized with most household electronic devices. The signals through movement of eyes, eyebrows and cheeks were simple and easy to learn. Each gesture produced a different state of stress inside the patch. The material of the patch was inlaid with several million microscopic piezoelectric crystals arranged in a network. As the stress was relieved, all the stressed piezoelectric crystals released a unique combined electric signal. This signal, within limits of human error, was interpreted by a small processor hanging behind my sister’s ear, and sent wirelessly to the concerned device as an instruction. Even considering the wide range error for humans, it was still possible for the processor to identify and send several hundred thousand different signals. The TV showed an advertisement for the new skin patch that would allow us to type and control cursors on computers with just the subtle gestures of our faces. Of course, learning to use it was an issue.
Suddenly, I thought of my uncle, who worked at a public Laundromat until it closed down nearly thirty years ago. Not only that particular Laundromat, but all of them. All clothes today are made of material having an obtuse angle of contact with all water-based liquids, grease, dirt and most foodstuffs. Washing clothes was a thing of the past. Just a simple jerk to the cloth was enough to remove any loosely adherent dust.
I slept early that night; I had a presentation the following day. The next morning I was up and ready to present my idea for the new line of cars that our company would start manufacturing. Reaching the office, I headed directly for the conference room where the board members were already waiting. I pressed my thumb lightly on the small pad on the wall beside the door. The green light confirmed recognition and the doors parted to let me in. After the necessary protocol, I drew up the slides in each of the directors’ personal viewing screens from my computer. The new car was to have a wholly different type of propulsion. The spherical wheels of the car would fit into a larger cavity on the underside of the car leaving a small section outside to contact the road. The inside of this cavity and one equator of each wheel would be lined with magnets. With the static magnetic field, the repulsion would balance the weight of the car and leave the required gap between the car body and the road as well as the wheel and the cavity. Superimposed on this field would be another dynamic field, which would cause the wheel to rotate such that the magnets on the wheel remain in a vertical plane. This system would eliminate friction between the car and wheel and provide acceleration. I had had this idea when I was in engineering college, but it had not proved feasible due to the large mass of high strength magnets. With the discovery of the magnetism of carbon, it has now become easy to use this system with lightweight carbon magnets and electromagnets. The directors loved the idea and sanctioned the funds for research in this area.
That evening I had a small party celebrating the success of my presentation with a few relatives and close friends. At night, I sat down to watch a movie. My friends had recommended it as the best watch among the latest releases. It was about a young engineer in the decade of 2000-2010 who had drawn up plans of several of the technologies that common people use today. Truly, today’s science fiction is tomorrow’s science fact.
The Sixth Sense
Humans hardly ever ventured into the colony of mutants, and mutants almost never came into the human world. What little interaction there was was limited to necessary trading of commodities that one needed, and the other possessed. This too was always done through chosen representatives, and the masses never participated in these exchanges, most were unaware of it.
This peaceful divide had existed since time immemorial, though some of the elders spoke of a time when there was only one race on this world. The world was peaceful back then, as it is now. But there are centuries of conflict dividing the two epochs. Conflict to decide who was more powerful, which race was superior, which should be the ruler, and which the ruled. All this started by the desire of a handful of humans, to improve humanity through their experiments. They intended to empower humans with a sixth sense, the power to read thoughts, without speaking a word. Their experiments were very successful, but the converted ones had to pay a terrible price for the new power, they lost speech altogether.
While a large number of humans crossed over to the other side, many chose not to improve themselves. And thus was born the divide, and an age of war followed, until it was understood by both that none was the more powerful, and must coexist, albeit separately, for their cultures had grown very differently in the years of isolation.
Whether this story is true or not, nobody knew, for no records existed. However, it was taken more as a legend to be respected, and a studied separation existed between the two races, which none tried to violate.
The exchanges of materials took place at certain appointed checkpoints. There was always a representative of either side, who took away all that was brought, and provided a list of items required on the next meeting. One such checkpoint was manned by Mali the human, and Wust the mutant.
Both of them had been at this post for over ten years, and had formed quite a friendship, of which neither spoke to another soul, and were afraid to think about themselves. Such a relationship was unheard of, and the fear of rejection by their communities kept it that way.
Mali grew more curious every day. She always asked Wust to describe the special sense that he had. Wust had tried several times, but it was not easy, especially with the total lack of speech. He had tried to show her some books they had on the thought-reading sense, but it was not enough for Mali. The more she read about it, the more she wanted to know, the more she wanted to understand. Finally, that day came when Mali requested Wust to do what he had feared most. She wanted to experience the sixth sense. He immediately signalled, "No! You must not!!"
"Why? Just for once, just for ten minutes."
"There is a divide between our races, and let it be so. One must know when to stop."
Mali was not to be turned down so easily. She knew of the serum which could give a human the sixth sense for ten minutes. Finally Wust relented. It was agreed that on the next exchange, Wust would carry a syringe with the serum, and they would try it out in the evening.
Mali could not contain herself throughout the next month, and her parents noticed the change in her. They did not like her choice of career, and always warned her to stay away from 'that dirty mutant'. Now they were more convinced than ever that it was his evil influence on their daughter. They decided to speak to the border control authorities.
Thirty days passed like thirty years for Mali, but they passed, and the time had come for her to try out the sixth sense. She greeted Wust with more warmth than usual, and Wust replied with less. After the contents of the trains were verified, and they went off in opposite directions, Wust and Mali went into the now desolate checkpoint office. Wust tried to dissuade Mali one last time, but she would hear none of it. She simply rolled up her sleeves, and signaled Wust to begin. Reluctantly, Wust pulled out the syringe, and injected Mali with the serum.
At first Mali did not feel anything, and was wondering if her dear friend had fooled her. One look at Wust told her that he had not fooled her, the serum was real. It came to her slowly as a soft murmuring, which grew into a terrific shriek in a fraction of a second. She was thrown off balance by the sheer loudness. Then there were some strange odors, was it an orange, or a damp smell, or is it some smell that there is no word for? As she staggered to her feet, her skin felt warm and cold at the same time. When she thought of the warmth, it started feeling hotter and hotter, and the moment she thought of the cold, her skin started to freeze. Wust warned her that what she was experiencing now was only her own thoughts, her brain reading its own thoughts, and multiplying the effect several times over.
Mali suddenly realized that Wust had neither spoken a word, nor had he signaled any gestures, yet she understood him perfectly. It was working!! She was thrilled. She wanted to experience it to a higher degree, she wanted to run out into the world, and listen to all the thoughts flying around. Wust restrained her, and urged her to communicate with him through thoughts first. She agreed, and they started talking, if it can be called that. It was wonderful, there were no words spoken, neither were there any words playing in her head. It was just a continuous flow of thought, and a perfect understanding of the others ideas.
Suddenly, Mali realized that the ten minutes were almost up, but there was still so much left to do!! Her thoughts started getting incoherent again, and noise blocked out Wusts thoughts from her. Was it her thoughts that clogged the communication? No. There were unknown voices, strange sensations. There was worry, anxiety, anger, horror. What was happening? As the effect of the serum wore off, the sense diminished to a mere murmur just as it had started, and Mali began to plead Wust for another shot of the serum.
It was only then that Mali realized what all those incoherent voices and sensations were. The border control authorities had arrived to investigate the complaint filed by her parents. They just saw the mutant Wust sitting helplessly on a chair, and the human Mali begging him for another shot of the serum. She was oblivious of the fact that she was being arrested for violating the rules; all she cared about was another shot of the serum. As she was dragged away, she saw Wust being taken away too, but all she cared about now was another shot of the serum.
This peaceful divide had existed since time immemorial, though some of the elders spoke of a time when there was only one race on this world. The world was peaceful back then, as it is now. But there are centuries of conflict dividing the two epochs. Conflict to decide who was more powerful, which race was superior, which should be the ruler, and which the ruled. All this started by the desire of a handful of humans, to improve humanity through their experiments. They intended to empower humans with a sixth sense, the power to read thoughts, without speaking a word. Their experiments were very successful, but the converted ones had to pay a terrible price for the new power, they lost speech altogether.
While a large number of humans crossed over to the other side, many chose not to improve themselves. And thus was born the divide, and an age of war followed, until it was understood by both that none was the more powerful, and must coexist, albeit separately, for their cultures had grown very differently in the years of isolation.
Whether this story is true or not, nobody knew, for no records existed. However, it was taken more as a legend to be respected, and a studied separation existed between the two races, which none tried to violate.
The exchanges of materials took place at certain appointed checkpoints. There was always a representative of either side, who took away all that was brought, and provided a list of items required on the next meeting. One such checkpoint was manned by Mali the human, and Wust the mutant.
Both of them had been at this post for over ten years, and had formed quite a friendship, of which neither spoke to another soul, and were afraid to think about themselves. Such a relationship was unheard of, and the fear of rejection by their communities kept it that way.
Mali grew more curious every day. She always asked Wust to describe the special sense that he had. Wust had tried several times, but it was not easy, especially with the total lack of speech. He had tried to show her some books they had on the thought-reading sense, but it was not enough for Mali. The more she read about it, the more she wanted to know, the more she wanted to understand. Finally, that day came when Mali requested Wust to do what he had feared most. She wanted to experience the sixth sense. He immediately signalled, "No! You must not!!"
"Why? Just for once, just for ten minutes."
"There is a divide between our races, and let it be so. One must know when to stop."
Mali was not to be turned down so easily. She knew of the serum which could give a human the sixth sense for ten minutes. Finally Wust relented. It was agreed that on the next exchange, Wust would carry a syringe with the serum, and they would try it out in the evening.
Mali could not contain herself throughout the next month, and her parents noticed the change in her. They did not like her choice of career, and always warned her to stay away from 'that dirty mutant'. Now they were more convinced than ever that it was his evil influence on their daughter. They decided to speak to the border control authorities.
Thirty days passed like thirty years for Mali, but they passed, and the time had come for her to try out the sixth sense. She greeted Wust with more warmth than usual, and Wust replied with less. After the contents of the trains were verified, and they went off in opposite directions, Wust and Mali went into the now desolate checkpoint office. Wust tried to dissuade Mali one last time, but she would hear none of it. She simply rolled up her sleeves, and signaled Wust to begin. Reluctantly, Wust pulled out the syringe, and injected Mali with the serum.
At first Mali did not feel anything, and was wondering if her dear friend had fooled her. One look at Wust told her that he had not fooled her, the serum was real. It came to her slowly as a soft murmuring, which grew into a terrific shriek in a fraction of a second. She was thrown off balance by the sheer loudness. Then there were some strange odors, was it an orange, or a damp smell, or is it some smell that there is no word for? As she staggered to her feet, her skin felt warm and cold at the same time. When she thought of the warmth, it started feeling hotter and hotter, and the moment she thought of the cold, her skin started to freeze. Wust warned her that what she was experiencing now was only her own thoughts, her brain reading its own thoughts, and multiplying the effect several times over.
Mali suddenly realized that Wust had neither spoken a word, nor had he signaled any gestures, yet she understood him perfectly. It was working!! She was thrilled. She wanted to experience it to a higher degree, she wanted to run out into the world, and listen to all the thoughts flying around. Wust restrained her, and urged her to communicate with him through thoughts first. She agreed, and they started talking, if it can be called that. It was wonderful, there were no words spoken, neither were there any words playing in her head. It was just a continuous flow of thought, and a perfect understanding of the others ideas.
Suddenly, Mali realized that the ten minutes were almost up, but there was still so much left to do!! Her thoughts started getting incoherent again, and noise blocked out Wusts thoughts from her. Was it her thoughts that clogged the communication? No. There were unknown voices, strange sensations. There was worry, anxiety, anger, horror. What was happening? As the effect of the serum wore off, the sense diminished to a mere murmur just as it had started, and Mali began to plead Wust for another shot of the serum.
It was only then that Mali realized what all those incoherent voices and sensations were. The border control authorities had arrived to investigate the complaint filed by her parents. They just saw the mutant Wust sitting helplessly on a chair, and the human Mali begging him for another shot of the serum. She was oblivious of the fact that she was being arrested for violating the rules; all she cared about was another shot of the serum. As she was dragged away, she saw Wust being taken away too, but all she cared about now was another shot of the serum.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Regrets
Pierre felt the servo motors in his legs give way, and he dropped twenty metres deeper into the abyss. His power pack was almost out of energy. Nobody would find him for centuries if he remained inside the abyss. Without electricity, his memory banks would be erased in about fifty years. Three centuries of experiences - the early subroutines, the rigid programming, becoming self-aware, developing consciousness, joining the military, the missions on distant planets, rising through the ranks to become a general - would be lost. He simply could not allow that to happen. He had to get out of the abyss so that he could send out a homing signal. If he had his original servo motors in his legs, he could have climbed out easily.
Pierre recalled the accident that had damaged his legs. It was a few years after the onset of self-awareness. He was one of the few androids that had evolved beyond their programming. He had started forming a personality, and was moving toward being more human. He was in a group of friends, both humans and androids, taking a walk in the mountains. They came upon a cliff with a waterfall. It was a sheer drop into the lake below. It was Pierre who suggested they dive into the water. Everyone else was afraid, but not Pierre. He wanted to experience everything, he always questioned the rules, he always wanted to do something new. All the others stayed behind, but Pierre jumped. The free fall was as exhilarating as he had expected. However, as soon as he landed in the water, his visual receptors sensed a large boulder just under the water. He did not have enough time to avoid the rock, but he managed to turn his body around so that he landed feet first. The impact destroyed the servo motors that regulated the movement in his legs, but at least no other critical systems were lost.
The motors were replaced with a newer type of motor that was considered to be better for the androids. These motors had a shorter response time as they linked directly to the neural net, it was later found that they could not be separated from the android without damaging him permanently. In any case, their performance was excellent, but two centuries is a long time for a servo motor.
Pierre regretted that rash decision, and wished he had never jumped. He wished that he had been more careful with his choices in his youth. As his power began to fail, Pierre dropped into a coma, with his brain functioning in a dream-like state to keep his mental pathways active with the minimum possible use of power.
Pierre found himself at the cliff again. With the sheer drop in front of him. He wanted to dive into the water below, but remembered what that had brought him. He decided not to. He decided to be safe. The rest of his life flashed quickly before his eyes, and every time he took a decision he found to be rash, he decided against it. When the pace of events slowed down a bit, he found himself as a junior maintenance officer on board a cargo vessel. The humans and androids he knew were in posts of command, while he was stuck in a monotonous job. What had gone wrong? He felt trapped, he had to escape.
This shook him back to consciousness. He looked around him. He was back in the cave, wearing a general's uniform. He knew then that whatever he had become was a result of all the choices he had made in the past. Nobody ever became great by following the rules, by playing it safe. Pierre had no more regrets in his mind. Even if he did die, he would die as the first android to reach the rank of an army general, which was inifitely better than living as the android who was exactly like a hundred thousand others.
Pierre recalled the accident that had damaged his legs. It was a few years after the onset of self-awareness. He was one of the few androids that had evolved beyond their programming. He had started forming a personality, and was moving toward being more human. He was in a group of friends, both humans and androids, taking a walk in the mountains. They came upon a cliff with a waterfall. It was a sheer drop into the lake below. It was Pierre who suggested they dive into the water. Everyone else was afraid, but not Pierre. He wanted to experience everything, he always questioned the rules, he always wanted to do something new. All the others stayed behind, but Pierre jumped. The free fall was as exhilarating as he had expected. However, as soon as he landed in the water, his visual receptors sensed a large boulder just under the water. He did not have enough time to avoid the rock, but he managed to turn his body around so that he landed feet first. The impact destroyed the servo motors that regulated the movement in his legs, but at least no other critical systems were lost.
The motors were replaced with a newer type of motor that was considered to be better for the androids. These motors had a shorter response time as they linked directly to the neural net, it was later found that they could not be separated from the android without damaging him permanently. In any case, their performance was excellent, but two centuries is a long time for a servo motor.
Pierre regretted that rash decision, and wished he had never jumped. He wished that he had been more careful with his choices in his youth. As his power began to fail, Pierre dropped into a coma, with his brain functioning in a dream-like state to keep his mental pathways active with the minimum possible use of power.
Pierre found himself at the cliff again. With the sheer drop in front of him. He wanted to dive into the water below, but remembered what that had brought him. He decided not to. He decided to be safe. The rest of his life flashed quickly before his eyes, and every time he took a decision he found to be rash, he decided against it. When the pace of events slowed down a bit, he found himself as a junior maintenance officer on board a cargo vessel. The humans and androids he knew were in posts of command, while he was stuck in a monotonous job. What had gone wrong? He felt trapped, he had to escape.
This shook him back to consciousness. He looked around him. He was back in the cave, wearing a general's uniform. He knew then that whatever he had become was a result of all the choices he had made in the past. Nobody ever became great by following the rules, by playing it safe. Pierre had no more regrets in his mind. Even if he did die, he would die as the first android to reach the rank of an army general, which was inifitely better than living as the android who was exactly like a hundred thousand others.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Festival of lights – Lyon 2009
Sunday, 6 December 2009, was a cloudy, not too cold, and somewhat depressing day in Saint-Étienne. Yet, I was very happy as I was looking forward to my visit to Lyon for the Fête des Lumières, or the Festival of lights. This festival of lights has been celebrated by the people of Lyon every year since 1643, when the town was struck by the plague. The municipal councilors had promised to pay a tribute to The Virgin Mary if Lyon was spared.
This festival, which started with people lighting candles in their windows, has now evolved into a grand spectacle with nearly a hundred different light shows all over the city.
I visited this festival with my good friend Adeline, and before we realized it, we spent 5 and a half hours walking around Lyon, thought we had seen just a few of things there were to see. We started our tour at Vieux Lyon, at the Cathédrale Saint-Jean. Here, there was a projection show titled Les Bâtisseurs or The Builders. It chronicled the construction of the cathédral with the finale being the projections matching in every detail with the façade of the building.
I do not have a better camera, or I could have got a better picture.
Next, we moved to the banks of the river Saône, which provided an excellent vantage point to watch the fireworks. These fireworks were originally planned for the 14th of July, the Liberation Day. However, due to heavy rains, they had been canceled. It was fortunate for us that we got to see them on this day.
Following the fireworks, which lasted about 20 minutes and was spectacular, we decided to climb the hill to reach the Basilica of Fourvière. On the way to the basilica, we spotted this tiny garden with quaint lights, and a very soothing ambiance. There were lights shaped like tulips. There was also a nice woman who greeted me "Bon soir!!" just as I entered. I began to rummage in my head to recall where I may have met her before, or how she knew me, when I realized that it was just a friendly greeting. A gentleman standing just next to the woman offered us some hot soup made of lentils and sprinkled some coriander over it. We enjoyed the garden in silence, sipping the hot soup. As we were leaving, we christened this garden Le Jardin Peace.
Le Jardin Peace
This festival, which started with people lighting candles in their windows, has now evolved into a grand spectacle with nearly a hundred different light shows all over the city.
I visited this festival with my good friend Adeline, and before we realized it, we spent 5 and a half hours walking around Lyon, thought we had seen just a few of things there were to see. We started our tour at Vieux Lyon, at the Cathédrale Saint-Jean. Here, there was a projection show titled Les Bâtisseurs or The Builders. It chronicled the construction of the cathédral with the finale being the projections matching in every detail with the façade of the building.
The Cathédrale Saint-Jean
I do not have a better camera, or I could have got a better picture.
Next, we moved to the banks of the river Saône, which provided an excellent vantage point to watch the fireworks. These fireworks were originally planned for the 14th of July, the Liberation Day. However, due to heavy rains, they had been canceled. It was fortunate for us that we got to see them on this day.
Fireworks
Following the fireworks, which lasted about 20 minutes and was spectacular, we decided to climb the hill to reach the Basilica of Fourvière. On the way to the basilica, we spotted this tiny garden with quaint lights, and a very soothing ambiance. There were lights shaped like tulips. There was also a nice woman who greeted me "Bon soir!!" just as I entered. I began to rummage in my head to recall where I may have met her before, or how she knew me, when I realized that it was just a friendly greeting. A gentleman standing just next to the woman offered us some hot soup made of lentils and sprinkled some coriander over it. We enjoyed the garden in silence, sipping the hot soup. As we were leaving, we christened this garden Le Jardin Peace.
Le Jardin Peace
After this slight detour, we continued our ascent to the basilica. The light show that they had here was different from the others in that the music was more modern – Adeline and I tried to do an impromptu autobot dance here – and the lighting was more internal than projected. Also, the music was made up entirely with the sounds of church bells. The enormous front face of the basilica looked surreal just a few seconds before the end of the show.
The Basilica of Fourvière
The Basilica of Fourvière
We also had some very good hot wine (vin chaud) which we bought just in front of the basilica. Vin chaud is made by heating some red wine with sugar and certain spices. Everybody seems to have their own recipe for it. My good friend Zuzanna uses Quatre Épices and so do I, but I did not taste any of this spice in the wine we bought here at the basilica. It works very well to warm oneself on cold nights, at the same time not getting drunk too. Adeline and I walked to the rear of the basilica where a display was mounted, thanking Mary in huge luminous letters "Merci Marie". The view of the Lyon city centre is breathtaking from this location. There were too many people here, and so I was unable to take a picture.
Having emptied our glasses of hot wine, and having rested ourselves a bit, we began the downhill trek to reach the Hôtel de Ville, or the city hall, where the light show is a must-see. On the way down, we discovered a space beside the road, where there was a unique style of lighting. Everywhere we had seen projections on to walls and buildings, and lighting from within at the basilica. Here, the projectors were placed over head, and the designs were formed on the floor, and on the people walking over it. Personally, this was my favorite as I found the simplicity of the idea and the complexity of the result overwhelming. I did take some pictures here, but due to the low light conditions, none of them do any justice to this amazing spectacle.
At the city hall, this year's show was titled Jouons du temps or "Let's play with time". Throughout the length of the show there was a clock and a métronome placed centrally on the two displays. The métronome kept the rhythm while the direction of the movement of the clock indicated the sense of the passage of time. The seasons passed, time changed direction several times, buildings were erected and they fell, all of which reminded us of the transient nature of all that exists, and showing us the beauty of every passing moment, which can be just as eternal as it is fleeting.
Various stages of the show at Hôtel de Ville
Having emptied our glasses of hot wine, and having rested ourselves a bit, we began the downhill trek to reach the Hôtel de Ville, or the city hall, where the light show is a must-see. On the way down, we discovered a space beside the road, where there was a unique style of lighting. Everywhere we had seen projections on to walls and buildings, and lighting from within at the basilica. Here, the projectors were placed over head, and the designs were formed on the floor, and on the people walking over it. Personally, this was my favorite as I found the simplicity of the idea and the complexity of the result overwhelming. I did take some pictures here, but due to the low light conditions, none of them do any justice to this amazing spectacle.
At the city hall, this year's show was titled Jouons du temps or "Let's play with time". Throughout the length of the show there was a clock and a métronome placed centrally on the two displays. The métronome kept the rhythm while the direction of the movement of the clock indicated the sense of the passage of time. The seasons passed, time changed direction several times, buildings were erected and they fell, all of which reminded us of the transient nature of all that exists, and showing us the beauty of every passing moment, which can be just as eternal as it is fleeting.
Various stages of the show at Hôtel de Ville
We were mesmerized by the profound thought and excellent execution of this show and we watched it several times. This was when we realized that it was getting late and if we were to take the last train out of Lyon, we would have hurry up. Therefore, we decided to take a look at one more place before we walked to Bellecour and took the metro to Part-Dieu from where we would leave Lyon.
As we left the square of the city hall, we came upon another large square just beside the Lyon Opéra, where there was a garden of lights. There were giant glowing mushrooms, trees with tiny sparkles at the end of their branches and a variety of other shapes as well.
The Garden of Lights
As we left the square of the city hall, we came upon another large square just beside the Lyon Opéra, where there was a garden of lights. There were giant glowing mushrooms, trees with tiny sparkles at the end of their branches and a variety of other shapes as well.
The Garden of Lights
This is where we ended our visit of this festival. I am sure I will return next year and every year when it is possible for me to visit Lyon.
Le mystère de l’enfant bryuant
En août c’est les vacances, en septembre, c’est la rentrée! Du coup, la ville qui me semblait morte en août était devenue soudainement très active et vivante en septembre. Comme les gens qui avaient recommencé leur travail, les enfants aussi avaient recommencé le sien.
Il y a une école maternelle près de mon appartement, et chaque matin quand je sors, je vois des parents qui partent avoir laissé leurs enfants à l’école.
Par habitude, je pars à 08h30 tous les matins. Vers 08h15, je suis en train de prendre mon petit-déjeuner. C’était un matin en septembre que j’avais marqué quelque chose très intéressante. Il était 08h15. J’ai entendu un enfant qui chantait dans le couloir juste en face de la porte d’entrée de mon appartement. Quelques secondes plus tard, j’ai entendu quelqu’un disant ”Chut!”. Mais l’enfant continuait chanter sa chanson. Encore quelques secondes plus tard, j’ai entendu un deuxième ”Chut!”, et cette fois, l’enfant a arrêté.
J’ai pensé que c’était peut-être un parent de l’enfant qui avait dit deux fois ”Chut!” avant que l’enfant s’était arrêté. Mais, le lendemain, la même chose s’est passée. Je l’ai trouvé très bizarre que l’enfant arrêtait toujours à la deuxième fois que le ”Chut!” fut dit. Pourquoi?
Pour meiux comprendre ce qui s’est passé, j’ai regardé bien le couloir. J’habite au rez-de-chaussée. Il y a seulement un autre appartement au rez-de-chaussée. Un vieux homme habite dans cet appartement et il n’y a aucun enfant qui habite chez lui. Les portes des tous les appartements du bâtiment sont du bois, et elles ne font aucun bruit quand elles se ferment. Juste en face de ma porte, il y a deux portes des deux ascenseurs de l’immeuble. Cettes portes sont métalliques et elles ont des revêtement en caoutchouc. A gauche, il y a l’entrée principale de l’immeuble. Cette porte, comme celles des ascenseurs, est métallique et elle aussi a un revêtement en caoutchouc.
Lorsque j’avais bien regardé le couloir, j’avais tout de suite compris ce qui avait passé avant. C’est très important de se rappeler que je n’avais rien vu. Je n’avais que entendu le bruit dans le couloir. La chanson était, bien sûr, la voix d’un enfant, mais le ”Chut!” n’était pas forcement celle d’une personne.
J’ai reconstruit dans ma tête donc les événements de tous les matins. L’enfant qui chante ne s’arrête jamais de chanter. Mais, les ”Chut!” ne sont pas du tout la voix d’un parent, mais ils sont le son du caoutchouc des portes de l’ascenseur et l’entrée principale qui se traîne sur le sol. Quand l’enfant sort de l’ascenseur, je commence de l’entendre. Le premier ”Chut!” vient donc quand la porte de l’ascenseur ferme. Le deuxième vient quand la porte d’entrée ferme. Après la fermeture de cette porte-là, on n’entend plus l’enfant, même s’il puisse continuer à chanter.
Le lendemain, j’ai laissé ma porte ouverte et j’ai vérifié que c’était bien le cas et mon histoire était justement ce qui se passe tous les matins.
Il y a une école maternelle près de mon appartement, et chaque matin quand je sors, je vois des parents qui partent avoir laissé leurs enfants à l’école.
Par habitude, je pars à 08h30 tous les matins. Vers 08h15, je suis en train de prendre mon petit-déjeuner. C’était un matin en septembre que j’avais marqué quelque chose très intéressante. Il était 08h15. J’ai entendu un enfant qui chantait dans le couloir juste en face de la porte d’entrée de mon appartement. Quelques secondes plus tard, j’ai entendu quelqu’un disant ”Chut!”. Mais l’enfant continuait chanter sa chanson. Encore quelques secondes plus tard, j’ai entendu un deuxième ”Chut!”, et cette fois, l’enfant a arrêté.
J’ai pensé que c’était peut-être un parent de l’enfant qui avait dit deux fois ”Chut!” avant que l’enfant s’était arrêté. Mais, le lendemain, la même chose s’est passée. Je l’ai trouvé très bizarre que l’enfant arrêtait toujours à la deuxième fois que le ”Chut!” fut dit. Pourquoi?
Pour meiux comprendre ce qui s’est passé, j’ai regardé bien le couloir. J’habite au rez-de-chaussée. Il y a seulement un autre appartement au rez-de-chaussée. Un vieux homme habite dans cet appartement et il n’y a aucun enfant qui habite chez lui. Les portes des tous les appartements du bâtiment sont du bois, et elles ne font aucun bruit quand elles se ferment. Juste en face de ma porte, il y a deux portes des deux ascenseurs de l’immeuble. Cettes portes sont métalliques et elles ont des revêtement en caoutchouc. A gauche, il y a l’entrée principale de l’immeuble. Cette porte, comme celles des ascenseurs, est métallique et elle aussi a un revêtement en caoutchouc.
Lorsque j’avais bien regardé le couloir, j’avais tout de suite compris ce qui avait passé avant. C’est très important de se rappeler que je n’avais rien vu. Je n’avais que entendu le bruit dans le couloir. La chanson était, bien sûr, la voix d’un enfant, mais le ”Chut!” n’était pas forcement celle d’une personne.
J’ai reconstruit dans ma tête donc les événements de tous les matins. L’enfant qui chante ne s’arrête jamais de chanter. Mais, les ”Chut!” ne sont pas du tout la voix d’un parent, mais ils sont le son du caoutchouc des portes de l’ascenseur et l’entrée principale qui se traîne sur le sol. Quand l’enfant sort de l’ascenseur, je commence de l’entendre. Le premier ”Chut!” vient donc quand la porte de l’ascenseur ferme. Le deuxième vient quand la porte d’entrée ferme. Après la fermeture de cette porte-là, on n’entend plus l’enfant, même s’il puisse continuer à chanter.
Le lendemain, j’ai laissé ma porte ouverte et j’ai vérifié que c’était bien le cas et mon histoire était justement ce qui se passe tous les matins.
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