the tower of brahma - 45 - grinning beginning

09/08/06

I have a plan. I need to know what's going to happen if it's bound to happen regardless. Can you alter fate?

I bought a chalkboard and returned it when I rediscovered my distaste for touching chalk. In exchange I got a corkboard, some thumbtacks, post-its and string. I began tacking up pictures of the twelve names I still had written on my forearm after a random phone call had instructed me that these people were to be found and questioned.

There was seventeen total. The first five were all within one person. Me. All facets of my fractured persona, they collapsed into just a writer, lost in the middle. And although I had unknowingly tried to halt my investigation further with heavy doses of alcohol and a sharpie, I could still read the raised letters of the names beyond the thick black government-esque classified crossouts. Now I needed to find out who these people were and what their connection was to me, to Agent Fenris, to the Tower itself.

Right after I sleep. Insomnia comes with excess coffee and the uppers. I need to dream, so badly that I believe I am creating mock dreams for myself in a half-awake sleep deprived delirium. Visions of holy writers and righteous believers come to me and tell me what I know but am too lazy to do. Write. Get it out, down and on the damn page and then go take a nap.

Just as I begin to drift after writing my last word I hear the sounds of flames, concentrated searing fire. My neighbor is responsible. He's been building something for a week that I jokingly say is a robot. But now I wonder. He always seems shady and off to me, a freakish man-boy with thick glasses and chocolate icing for hair. I begin to watch him. I take note of the sounds I hear and postulate in my mind the tools and possible substances composed in the construction of this enigmatic creation.

Finally after weeks of not sleeping I wait for him on the stairs by the roof. He's just a floor down so when I hear him hit the fifth floor and head down his hallway, I leap down the flight of stairs and rush him. I slam into his back and we burst into his apartment. We hit the ground and slide across near bare floors. I look around seeing the far side of the apartment first. A cot, a small fridge and neatly rowed tools. I turn and my eyes slide across his shocked face, his embarrassed look, and become ensnared in the contraption that looms just a few feet above my bed.

Its center is a massive stone, carved meticulously, and surrounded by a wood base resembling an infinity symbol. Large metal rods are protruding from the rock in a multitude of directions. I think there were eight of them but I couldn't be sure for what I did next made it hard to determine what had happening. I never imagined I would have the strength to toss a rock that big out a window and to cause such significant damage to the wall. The rods, not fully soldered on, were smashed off and as I spun around huffing and puffing in a lunatic rage, I grabbed one off the floor.

My neighbor was scared. Too afraid to run for the door, which was open just enough for a hand to squeeze through and throw the door wide open. His fingertips barely twitched and that door was slammed shut, my free hand sliding towards the lock.

"What was that device you were building, neighbor?” The metal rod was a perfect weapon.

"My sculpture?” he replied.

I suddenly felt mad. I probably have done something crazy. The metal rod in my hand and the enormous hole in the far wall told me I had. Still I had to know.

"Who sent you? Did they tell you to build it? Does it make me have to write?” I pleaded.

"W-what are y-you talking about?” He had the eyes of a crazy person. But I out-crazied him. He would have no answers that I could use.

I unlocked the door and stepped into the hall backwards. I had to let him know not to tip his hat to the narcs but how could I let him know without letting them know I knew. Their machine was broken. They must know already. Unless, this is their man, and if he becomes my ally then he'll cover for me. But what if he's a patsy though? Some dumbshit college kid they paid to assemble some low-end frequency transmitter above my bedroom. He'd have no idea of the intricate plot he would now find himself ensnared in. No, better to save the poor kid the ordeal of getting involved in a conspiracy this grand. He'll be happier and safer as a pawn. His watchdogs will think he snapped from his proximity and exposure to the device. Poor sap.

"Sorry kid. Forget Art. Go to business school.” and with that I gently let the door shut behind me, a smile of satisfaction on my face.

Now, what was I doing?