Like alcohol or other insidious drugs, thinking can be an addiction. -Intellectual Shaman
The world was changing and staying the same, as it switched from one style of coding to another, making people obsolete. The fear of being irrelevant during desperate times clung to me like a leach in a monotonous swamp. It was the conversations that ate up my time, and for hours or seconds, when I could get them, I allowed myself to drift into forbidden spaces. Survival keeps these anti-social thoughts at bay because the need to be in the group, and more or less in the middle, requires acceptance of average. But at night, at least I could dream to escape my spectral prison. And thus, my wandering mind did not accept the mental confines of its spiritual cage, springing forth on its own accord, betraying the host, and my body followed it because this type of death was worse than a physical one.
I threw my belongings into my van and left the rest for the garbage man. I sent my last email to the University: To whom it may concern, as I have given a decade of my life to education and sought to mold young minds, I realize it is my mind that has changed. I cannot teach what I now know, and what I don’t know, I must find out for myself. -Alister
I was one of those meticulous savers; not that I loved money, but that it allowed me to put some space between me and the rest of the world. Climbing the mountain roads was like climbing a tower into the sky, untouched by modernness; a shining sun on a placid lake, reflecting thousands of years, unchanged. It was my family home, neglected for three generations. And it left a sore spot in our history, as my great grandfather was said to have gone insane in that stone castle in the woods. And now I was determined to spend as long as I could in that peaceful place between the pines, smelling the resinous sap, so that it might bring me back to life.
To be continued…