The Tower of Brahma. Chapter 60. Sexty.

5/13/09

"People Magazine actually coined the phrase, but that reinvigorating buzzword that has given new life to old age can only be attributed to one man: Charles Crown."

I was encased in some sort of proto-plasmic coccoon, an ethereal embryonic capsule with a plunging elevator vibe. Across the skin of the bubble were imagewords, or iWords, a complete societal initiation into the year 2036.

"He grew up in a lower class, blue collar family on Long Island, New York. His parents, still teenagers, raised him with the aid of the grandparents. His father worked as a mechanic, building race cars and fixing his Mustang. His mother taught him to feel, read to him every night and never left his side til this day."

The generic photomontage, with telepathic audio tracks, dialogue or voice over, commentary track from the ID, Ego & Superego, washed over my being making me experience a dramatic re-enactment, POV, steady cam, COPS style sensation, immersed in altered dreamstate.

"Charles was often quiet and shy in his early days, preferring to hide behind mom's legs or in the middle of clothing racks in early 20th Century 'Department Stores'. He was lost in a daydream haze, until the day he died. A hotdog bite just a tad too big ended his life despite his father's attempts to run him to a local hospital."

I felt like choking. Gagging on early development biopic nausea. Where was I? What is the primordial ooze on top of me? I pressed my finger into the membrane which held firm, despite water droplets like ice melting dripping down the sides. I ran the jagged edge of my nail against its skin.

"When Charles was resurrected he had already passed over, clinically dead for sixty four seconds, before a resuscitation padle brought him back to us. In those sixty four seconds, everything had changed: the World, Charles, You. All of reality altered slightly, although psyientists would not make this discovery til 2020."

Infomercial documentaries with advertisement hyperlinks beamed straight to the cerebral cortex. The frontal lobes are wiggled into a vibrational pattern that allows minds to perceive. I scratch at the surface of this gelatinous gumball, making the signal flicker every so slightly.

"Charles' parents could not afford to sustain a living and so had to 'volunteer' their son to a (recently declassified) government secret agent program where the blank slate of Charles' mind was replaced with an 'artificial intelligence', or AI, named Babel. What they didn't know was that there was still something deep within the spirit of Charles Crown."

The story started to get interesting so I ceased my nail surgical strike and began to let the flood fill my being. I found myself eager to become one with my surroundings, to withdraw into myself and fold into everything that ever is. The light of the void, the dark of the bright, prism shift to pinnacle pyramid perfection.

"A childhood incident involving a landlord's dog had burned itself onto Charles' psyche. Meta-physicists say that he was chosen to be a canine spirit, while psychologists say that this attack and release formed a stronger bond with the child than his human parents' imprint. Either way, government scientists were intrigued."

Sitting in pillows, all around you, sleepy drifting off in mid day sunshine, stress and tension long since faded and forgotten about, discarded as bones settle into place, free from fiction the skin sits, relaxed breaths freeing each bit by bit up your body. Lit up chakras glow like a race in reverse, red stopping, orange uncurling, green growing, purple popping, blue blossoming, white sprouting.

"The wild animal spirit and simulated personality eventually formed a union, and this persona renamed itself Charles Crown, but what was left of the original personality is unknown. Research is being done today that will uncover the secrets of identity and the mysteries of birth. The very essence of humanity. The meaning of life."