Thursday, 25 May 2006 : From the Hateful Forums...
The following News entry is from Alex.From the Hateful Forum Pits: Alizarinred
The Writer's Corner MCHY Mob has been waiting for way, way too long for us to post their talent.
Jim and I are lazy assbiters, and I have proof.
Why do photons seem to choose their path intelligently while under observation, O my cat-coddling foolios!?!
With no further ados... for your reading pleasure:
Schroedinger's Cat
The Good Fairy watched the cat over the rims of her red reading glasses. She knew that Morton enjoyed creating mischief, and she was not one to screw with that lest she fall victim to the cat's fickle personality. Being poisoned had done nothing good for his demeanor at all, which had always been just short of cross. That, most likely, was the reason Schroedinger chose Morton as his quantum sacrifice in the first place. Then Morton, by virtue of surviving in a parallel existence and successfully crossing over into this one, had created a small, cat-sized hole in the fabric of the universe. One could only assume that identical Mortons in nearly identical universes had managed to do the same, resulting in a twisted reality subject to the fancies of a battered feline.
However, Morton's survival had more to do with an implicit understanding of sub-atomic particles and their fundamental lack of dimension. He had learned, by careful observation in Schroedinger's lab, that since the entire universe could be seen contained in a single cell, and all the constructs of that universe were contained in the interference patterns created by those cells, that a mere cat was more than able to control the entire realm of existence, given the proper motivation. Perhaps because it was so simple a concept, Morton was able to grasp it. Once having been shoved in the box, he resolved to manipulate time and space, and in so doing transformed the poison into grape jelly, a particular favorite of his. But not before it was able to do a tiny bit of damage. His fur suffered disarray and his whiskers bent due to the mild seizure he?d had before he was able to transmute the substance. And while Morton was more than capable of manipulating his own form as he saw fit, he found it rather more trouble than it was worth. The evidence of his injuries was a badge of honor he wore proudly.
Instead, he spent his time watching the human creatures and chuckling to himself contentedly. He did enjoy the odd joke, but for the most part he was not really interested in their existence except as it related to the opening of sardine cans.
He surveyed the room from his perch at the end of the bar. He found ethereal creatures like the Good Fairy to be useful in the grand scheme of things, so he permitted them to exist in his reality. Most humans didn't bother to believe in them, much less in an omnipotent cat that could manipulate reality with a flick of his orange tail. The cat figured that was all for the best, because once men truly understood their own potential power, there was bound to be an excess of Pamela Anderson look-alikes everywhere.
The Fairy held Morton in awe. He liked to follow her around just for kicks. It made her nervous, and she was absolutely brilliant when she was nervous, even more so when she was drunk. His customary air of detachment served him well.
She really had many of the same abilities as he did; she was simply unbelieving of her potential power (in truth, even a simple slug had the same abilities, but slugs were content with their state of being). In fact, ethereals like herself were quite able to manipulate reality, and did so on a regular basis. How else did one get a perfect martini every time? Nevertheless, since they were primarily human constructs brought to life by the fervent belief of small children and lunatics, they tended to have some of the same limitations as humans. One day they would realize their own unlimited power, and the universe would be at their every whim. But in the meantime, Morton was an uncommon cat in having that power, and that suited him just fine.
The Good Fairy was already in her cups, being several martinis ahead of the djinn who was sitting next to her commiserating on the dismal state of affairs in his lantern. Apparently it was not of as fine a brass as he felt he deserved. His pillows were becoming worn, and the fringed curtains were coming unraveled.
?Look, all I?m saying is that I should be able to at least redecorate from time to time. Is that too much to ask? But nooo stupid rules. I can grant wishes but can?t use my magic to my own benefit. Is that wrong or is it wrong?? ?Absolutely,? she replied, hoping her grudging commiseration would be enough to mollify the djinn into moving on to a new subject.
It was not. The djinn regaled her for another half hour about his dismal décor, while her martini-fuelled bar tab kept mounting. The Bartender was accustomed to drunken ethereals, so he just kept pouring. The Good Fairy was always a heavy tipper, anyway. The worst that could happen was well The Bartender didn?t really want to think that far ahead, knowing the kind of bizarreness the Good Fairy was capable of, but it still made for an interesting evening. The Bartender was, fortunately, immune to most magic by virtue of his position.
But, there was something about that scruffy orange cat he found unsettling. He could never quite put his finger on it, but he knew there was something going on there. The Good Fairy seemed to suspect it as well, and tried to keep a safe distance from it, but the cat seemed to enjoy unnerving her. It would show up at odd moments, always when the Good Fairy was there, and seldom when she wasn?t. The cat seemed to stare at her almost unrelentingly, which was odd considering that most of that time it seemed to have its eyes closed. It would just be there. In fact, the Fairy found that either the scruffy orange cat, or another one looking remarkably similar to it would show up quite often when she was off on a wish run. It was an amusing coincidence at first, but now it was just disturbing.
Morton had grown tired of the djinn?s whining. He yawned and stretched at the end of the bar, then settled down, curling his feet under him until they disappeared. He watched the Fairy through thin slits while dozing a bit.
The Fairy was weary of the djinn, and more than a little tipsy. She knew he couldn?t effect any magic on his own; it required the requisite wishes from an accidental discoverer. Therefore, the djinn was powerless for all practical purposes. She smiled a little lopsidedly. The Bartender recognized that look, and prepared to duck if necessary. He might be immune to magic, but he was not immune to flying barware.
The Good Fairy hitched up her bustier and fluffed the tulle skirt of her fairy uniform. She stretched her gossamer wings just a bit, beating them as if building a charge. She reached for her wand, which she had poked into the side of her shoe. A rubber smiley face was stuck on the end of it, covering the customary star, which was still a bit sticky from the marshmallow roast. She bopped the djinn unceremoniously on the head with her wand. He immediately turned into a puff of patchouli-scented smoke and disappeared into his substandard lantern. The Bartender, who had braced for much worse, raised a quizzical eyebrow. She caught the look and grinned.
?Hound?s-tooth. Lots of it,? she said, then giggled.
?You are truly evil,? he observed. She laughed and finished her martini.
* - * - *
Morton watched her through his slitted eyes. Had he been one for outward displays of rampant emotion, he might have purred loudly. However, all that seemed less than dignified to him, and he was, above all else, a dignified being. And while he could have changed his form at any instant, he chose to remain in cat form for the extreme dignity of it. Additionally, he found walking on two legs very inefficient, and he fell over a lot. There was no tail for balance, when you really needed one, what with the whole two-leg ordeal going on, and it seemed to attract more attention than he felt it was worth when his human form ate raw fish whole.
He didn?t care for cooked fish, and it was difficult to find a decent sushi restaurant in some corners of the universe. Being a slightly tattered orange tabby cat just suited his purposes. He was non-threatening, compact, and perfectly acceptable in nearly every dimension available to him. Which, when he considered it, was pretty much all the dimensions. He just hadn?t taken the time to visit them.
The Good Fairy was just starting to get wound up, and he liked that. A few more drinks and another altercation, and the potential for amusement was limitless.
Morton was suffering from an ailment common to omnipotent beings. Boredom. Being a cat, he was pretty much born bored, and his current abilities had not changed that. He was still relatively new at being omnipotent, in a linear time sense of things. In non-linear time, he was ageless, but he was still bound by the fact that he was born a cat, and that for a cat, time was completely linear and finite, and therefore boring. Time could not be turned back onto itself, folded and refolded as it could once one realized the universe was not as it appeared. Its mutable nature notwithstanding, the cat was often at odds with himself. Hence, the fascination with the Good Fairy. She was his cosmic mouse. While he seldom did anything to influence the outcome of events around her, save for his mere presence (which influenced things in ways that even he didn?t quite get), he was mostly content to simply witness the Fairy?s antics. He used her as a random event generator, ignoring a miniscule portion of a reality he personally set far to the side.
Within that tiny reality, Morton chose not to see the outcome of anything the Fairy did. It was completely random. This kept him amused for days (seconds?) at a time, appeared to harm no one, and occasionally he got a nice fish out of it.
The real irony of Morton?s existence was this: being born a cat made omnipotence an uneasy fit. Oh, not in any conventional sense, of course. Cats were born higher beings, and thus, in their natural state, completely blissed-out and in their own feline Nirvana as a matter of course.
Morton?s problem was that as a laboratory subject, he had lost his bliss. Rather than being a contented, albeit bored, cat, he became dissatisfied with his existence. He blamed all this on that damned Schroedinger, of course. He was like those fools in the Garden of Eden-- he had tasted the forbidden fruit and now had much further to go toward enlightenment as a result. Other cats were born into a natural state of Nirvana. Morton had to work for it. And while he could manipulate time and space in infinite ways, he could not return to the pre-Schroedinger state he was in at birth. He had lost Nirvana because of that damnable scientist.
Morton dozed contentedly for the moment at the end of the bar. The Bartender was just a little nervous about him, and that was fine. Morton knew that the Bartender had an inkling of what he truly was, but in order to maintain his own sanity, refused to quite grasp it. At any rate, Morton, being a cat, could sleep anywhere. The bar was a typically noisy place, as one would expect a watering hole for ethereals to be. Customarily, none of them bothered with Morton. Either because he appeared to be a slightly tattered cat with an air of having been poisoned at one time, or because he was able to manipulate them into complacency. He sat Sphinx-like in his spot and let slip a loud purr.
Suddenly, or perhaps not, a soft, pure white glow to his left began just out of his periphery. He noted it quietly, realizing it was not a typical ethereal glow, but something quite different. He turned his head and opened his eyes. Floating four feet away was what appeared to be The Buddha. Not just any old buddha, but...
The Buddha.
The cat was impressed.
The man appeared to be around 30, of East Asian descent, and of course, had a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Inscrutably so. The cat identified with him immediately. Except for the very loud Hawaiian shirt he was wearing.
?Greetings, Morton,? Buddha said.
?Likewise,? Morton nodded with extreme dignity.
?How is omnipotence treating you??
?I don?t really see what all the fuss is about.?
?That?s understandable.?
?Surely. So what brings you to this particular corner of the universe? Or need I ask??
?We just wanted to be sure you were adjusting well after reaching your new level of consciousness.?
?We? Oh yes, of course. The other Omnipotents. Are they concerned?? Morton grinned a little.
?Only in the sense that you were only recently a dissatisfied laboratory experiment, and now you are an omnipotent cat. We understand that you miss your previous state of innocence and bliss.?
?Yes, well. There is that.?
?I have been selected to assist you in achieving your next step.?
?Which would be??
?Whatever you seek.?
Morton studied Buddha?s face intently. He expected to see a change in the man?s demeanor, but the Buddha?s content smile was unchanging. A being would have to be one with the universe to wear such a shirt with confidence, Morton concluded.
?I make you nervous, don?t I??
?Well, it is true that no other cats have achieved this state of awareness, although I personally believe cats are uniquely suited to higher states of consciousness.?
?Thank you.?
?You are welcome.? Buddha inclined his head.
?So essentially, you are here to ensure that I do not destroy the universe??
?Exactly.?
?Gotcha. No problem. I assume nobody else in the bar can see you?? Morton asked.
?Correct. I find it easier than dealing with the fans and autograph hounds. Of course, I could just appear as a cat if you?d like.?
?No, I think that would be rather unsettling, given the shirt and all.?
?As you wish. Care for a drink?? Buddha asked.
Morton sensed at that point that a deeper conversation was under way.
?Certainly. What should I call you??
?Sid will do.?
Siddhartha and Morton shared a fermented yak milk and chatted at length. The bar?s life continued around them. Nobody but the Good Fairy noticed that the scruffy orange cat appeared to be chatting with itself, and drinking fermented yak?s milk.
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That is all. - Jim