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Nobody - MC arc of Colo Laso (12.20.20/02:47)
*tik*tok*
He hadn't realized fully just how quiet the solitude would be this time or how loud every noise could be, although he had long since guessed it without knowing he had. Being alone amplified everything. That must have been what Tesla meant when he said that was where ideas happened. In retrospect he wasn't completely sure just how much he liked that idea given his current situation. Today one of the people who had moved into the new apartment complex they had built just adjacent had obviously received a new stereo for Christmas.
*tak*tik*tac*
Having been the sort of kid that had grown up with four 15-inch subwoofers in the back of his convertible, the bass didn't bother him at all. He actually thought that it sounded like a pretty nice system but the demands were higher these days and garbage audio was easy for most people to hear now.
The stereo in his 1978 Cadillac Eldorado still sounded pretty nice to him with the new bluetooth emitter he'd forgotten he purchased before his last 'outing'. Of course he didn't know what any of the current songs on the radio since he hadn't watched or listened to to broadcast anything in 20 years. He couldn't identify so instead he just played a phone game and enjoyed the beat as he ducked in and out of vents on his phone.
He still needed to replace the multiple TVs he had lost on the gig since he had actually gotten one of his Nintendo switches back. Not the one with his 4yr old millionaire Skrim charachter but at this point he would take what he could get. It was so rare to recover anything whenever everything went bad and it had gone worse than he could have ever imagined it could have with no one having died.
Being completely locked away from every person and all of society tended to show you the error of your ways, show them in others and give you plenty of time to reflect with absolutely nothing intruding on you. Solitary confinement was a strange mistress. It had been his choice in the inception, the point even but the government had seen fit to not give him a choice, which was pretty much par for the course. Now he was sat back on his perch in the midst of his murder who stayed at his door but save for 'O' or 'Zero' the new orange tabby he was completely alone. He glanced over at Eigen's picture for the millionth time today.
"God I miss you." He said through eyes permenantly, *Don't mistake ignorance for malice because in this line if work, if you do, you'll spend every minute of your day at war.* pre-moistened with tears. So much had changed in what he now considered to be a short amount of time. He would be needing to put the eye drops in before too long if he ever planned on sleeping, and he never did. The headaches, while worse, where nothing that wasn't a normality in his life. The retinal scarring was something that he had previously understood and he knew about but the high intercranial pressure but it was fairly new having returned with his return. It had been most of the reason that he went to Colorado four years ago, cannabis being one of the main medical cures for high intercranial pressure or HICP. Being high all the time was certainly a nicely added bonus but it really wasn't something that he pursued on any given day even now. The absence of the pain and strain however were. At this point in time he could definitively see the advantages of it however the federal government had made it very clear that if he was found with it in his system there would be very negative ramifications all the way up to and not excluding death.
It's not that they didn't understand the situation, it was that they blatantly didn't care. It was something about the liability incurred per their decision that was on the dockett. He supposed it was just a symptom of the disease, a problem that came along with the new times of sickness that everyone was 'laboring under'. It was very telling to him how everyone who now had to deal with something that was a precaution to escape a debilitating medical problem suddenly felt like they had their own personal cross to climb up on so many just complained and sneered, wanting to br the guest of honor and ride the lead float in their own little pity parade.
The tinitus ringing, his constant siren song had been louder this time down and strangely enough there wasn't even any gunfire this time. He yes it was most likely cerebrospinal fluid pressure he could readily feel on the backs of his eyeballs. He was suddenly hungry for Ezekiel bread.
*tik*tik*tik*
He had lost his hearing years ago. He had 70% hearing loss in his left ear and 30% hearing loss in his right. He had long ago to leared to read lips and feel vibrations to compensate for the loss. Given his new diagnosis from the optometrist he supposed that he would need to get busy learning Braille. One of the strangest things was that once those habits were in place, one largely forgot about the process to put them there and simply performed the task. He had absolutely no place being able to hear much of anything but it never particularly bothered him. He had a feeling losing his vision was going to be a very different prospect.
Most of the loss was in what they referred to as the 'hunters notch' anyway; a register of sound sensitivity that lay exactly and the frequency range of gunfire and explosions.
*tik*tik*
His ears perked up as he heard the coyotes start to squeal and scream just across the road, down by the river. He absent-minded wondered if the new people next door that had moved into this remote location were bothered by them, it being a definate departure from city life. He got up, walked over to the door and peered out into the cold night. He, at that point consciously realized that he left the FLIR scope sitting on the bookcase; having had you did extensively whenever he arrived to check for any heat signatures in the wood line.
As he listened he could tell that they had chosen to came around through the lower end valley, by Willie's old house where years ago he had had a dump. In the old days there was no such thing as garbage pickup so most households had a pit dug to put household garbage in. His household had been no different, however long ago they had used the heavy equipment to bury it. He had been a young man whenever the Environmental Protection Agency had declared it a necessity that everyone do so and they had. It was strange here in 2020 to be hearing the great, great, great grand pups of the coyotes still following the same old trail. Just across from the pastorium, behind the baseball field, the path ran adjacent to the tennis court. He smiled to himself as he closed the door and made his way back over to the chair. If he were to have put that down in writing in some sort of story it would sound as though he had grown up in a place and been part of a family of wealth.
The truth of the matter what he grew up in a village of people of willpower and work and of the wheel in a time when cars were a luxury. For many of the people automobiles that consistantly ran still were. There had been a time not too long ago when he would have gotten in his Jeep with a shotgun and gone to make certain that the coyotes didn't creep up behind the old gymnasium down by the baseball diamond.
He absentmindedly recalled one instance where they were actually on the field playing little league whenever they coyotes had snuck up and then let loose, hoping to scatter the children to make them easier targets. In this location they were afraid of nothing at that time and hunted every inch. The pack regularly did it whenever they were in the gym playing basketball and there would be someone who had a particularly squealey cheer because as far as the coyotes knew this was all theirs and didn't understand the variant and human abilities tied to monetary worth.
One could almost see the influx an outpouring of money that came through the small village. Living here one could. Whenever times were good they would construct an erect new batting cages, have new basketballs for the gym and the children would have plenty to do. In times of want and woe no one did anything and the animals retook the quiet ground. Many times he had walked out to deer standing on his front stoop which no doubt brought the coyotes.
He pulled at the shiny strands of silky web that wrapped around the end of the freshly pruned branch on the bonsai with his tweezers. He supposed that he had a new tenant in his small plum tree and started to look under the leaves for something with eight legs. He pulled gently on the omewhat sharp end that he hadn't filed smooth before he sat it in the sun to photosynthesize. He realized with a grin that it was cat hair.
If he had touched it the orange tabby refused not to smear her ever-purring face all over it. When he had unpacked the crates and started pulling out the green bags full of medical kit she stationed herself squarely on top of each of them in turn and slept there each night since he had cloistered himself away in the forward room of the hundred-year-old house. His mouser was a stage 4 clinger at this point but he couldn't particularly say that he blamed her since she didn't see him but maybe twice a day. He had become painfully aware of just how reclusive he had become but in truth didn't see the situation changing for the duration. 'Luckily' history was writing itself so that this was the most likely path the general public had laid out for everyone in society, a true change and Logistics that's demands lay on the tip of the spear of diaease and even death. It was strange seeing the habit of being a true recluse become the norm in society. It was certainly strange days and while he had swapped dog for cat and this for that, woman for more fat he would just sit where he'd sat. He did need to get to work on his car though and maybe even start his robot that could sever an inch of solid metal with an accuracy up to five thousands of an inch with a beam of plasma which was basically actual sunshine. it was little wonder that they had deemed him a mad scientist, a threat to national security, literally branded him an anarchist and then had turned around and just let him go home.
*tic*tok* He dropped a couple more rocks into one of the washing trays and picked up a fine file to clean up some of the pruning scars. He eventually would have to actually get up and leave the house to get some wire because there was no way to know the tensile strength and bendability of it without actually holding it in your hand and testing it. He genuinely hoped that there was still some at the shop but most of it was 14ga copper and his binsai were way too small for wire that heavy.
"Goodnight my little bonsai. You are beautiful, you are loved and you are vital. Thank you for sustaining me while guiding and guarding my hands. You are a gift from God." He wiped away a couple tears, double crossed himself as was often his custom and forgot his eye drops and ibuprofen again.
He hadn't realized fully just how quiet the solitude would be this time or how loud every noise could be, although he had long since guessed it without knowing he had. Being alone amplified everything. That must have been what Tesla meant when he said that was where ideas happened. In retrospect he wasn't completely sure just how much he liked that idea given his current situation. Today one of the people who had moved into the new apartment complex they had built just adjacent had obviously received a new stereo for Christmas.
*tak*tik*tac*
Having been the sort of kid that had grown up with four 15-inch subwoofers in the back of his convertible, the bass didn't bother him at all. He actually thought that it sounded like a pretty nice system but the demands were higher these days and garbage audio was easy for most people to hear now.
The stereo in his 1978 Cadillac Eldorado still sounded pretty nice to him with the new bluetooth emitter he'd forgotten he purchased before his last 'outing'. Of course he didn't know what any of the current songs on the radio since he hadn't watched or listened to to broadcast anything in 20 years. He couldn't identify so instead he just played a phone game and enjoyed the beat as he ducked in and out of vents on his phone.
He still needed to replace the multiple TVs he had lost on the gig since he had actually gotten one of his Nintendo switches back. Not the one with his 4yr old millionaire Skrim charachter but at this point he would take what he could get. It was so rare to recover anything whenever everything went bad and it had gone worse than he could have ever imagined it could have with no one having died.
Being completely locked away from every person and all of society tended to show you the error of your ways, show them in others and give you plenty of time to reflect with absolutely nothing intruding on you. Solitary confinement was a strange mistress. It had been his choice in the inception, the point even but the government had seen fit to not give him a choice, which was pretty much par for the course. Now he was sat back on his perch in the midst of his murder who stayed at his door but save for 'O' or 'Zero' the new orange tabby he was completely alone. He glanced over at Eigen's picture for the millionth time today.
"God I miss you." He said through eyes permenantly, *Don't mistake ignorance for malice because in this line if work, if you do, you'll spend every minute of your day at war.* pre-moistened with tears. So much had changed in what he now considered to be a short amount of time. He would be needing to put the eye drops in before too long if he ever planned on sleeping, and he never did. The headaches, while worse, where nothing that wasn't a normality in his life. The retinal scarring was something that he had previously understood and he knew about but the high intercranial pressure but it was fairly new having returned with his return. It had been most of the reason that he went to Colorado four years ago, cannabis being one of the main medical cures for high intercranial pressure or HICP. Being high all the time was certainly a nicely added bonus but it really wasn't something that he pursued on any given day even now. The absence of the pain and strain however were. At this point in time he could definitively see the advantages of it however the federal government had made it very clear that if he was found with it in his system there would be very negative ramifications all the way up to and not excluding death.
It's not that they didn't understand the situation, it was that they blatantly didn't care. It was something about the liability incurred per their decision that was on the dockett. He supposed it was just a symptom of the disease, a problem that came along with the new times of sickness that everyone was 'laboring under'. It was very telling to him how everyone who now had to deal with something that was a precaution to escape a debilitating medical problem suddenly felt like they had their own personal cross to climb up on so many just complained and sneered, wanting to br the guest of honor and ride the lead float in their own little pity parade.
The tinitus ringing, his constant siren song had been louder this time down and strangely enough there wasn't even any gunfire this time. He yes it was most likely cerebrospinal fluid pressure he could readily feel on the backs of his eyeballs. He was suddenly hungry for Ezekiel bread.
*tik*tik*tik*
He had lost his hearing years ago. He had 70% hearing loss in his left ear and 30% hearing loss in his right. He had long ago to leared to read lips and feel vibrations to compensate for the loss. Given his new diagnosis from the optometrist he supposed that he would need to get busy learning Braille. One of the strangest things was that once those habits were in place, one largely forgot about the process to put them there and simply performed the task. He had absolutely no place being able to hear much of anything but it never particularly bothered him. He had a feeling losing his vision was going to be a very different prospect.
Most of the loss was in what they referred to as the 'hunters notch' anyway; a register of sound sensitivity that lay exactly and the frequency range of gunfire and explosions.
*tik*tik*
His ears perked up as he heard the coyotes start to squeal and scream just across the road, down by the river. He absent-minded wondered if the new people next door that had moved into this remote location were bothered by them, it being a definate departure from city life. He got up, walked over to the door and peered out into the cold night. He, at that point consciously realized that he left the FLIR scope sitting on the bookcase; having had you did extensively whenever he arrived to check for any heat signatures in the wood line.
As he listened he could tell that they had chosen to came around through the lower end valley, by Willie's old house where years ago he had had a dump. In the old days there was no such thing as garbage pickup so most households had a pit dug to put household garbage in. His household had been no different, however long ago they had used the heavy equipment to bury it. He had been a young man whenever the Environmental Protection Agency had declared it a necessity that everyone do so and they had. It was strange here in 2020 to be hearing the great, great, great grand pups of the coyotes still following the same old trail. Just across from the pastorium, behind the baseball field, the path ran adjacent to the tennis court. He smiled to himself as he closed the door and made his way back over to the chair. If he were to have put that down in writing in some sort of story it would sound as though he had grown up in a place and been part of a family of wealth.
The truth of the matter what he grew up in a village of people of willpower and work and of the wheel in a time when cars were a luxury. For many of the people automobiles that consistantly ran still were. There had been a time not too long ago when he would have gotten in his Jeep with a shotgun and gone to make certain that the coyotes didn't creep up behind the old gymnasium down by the baseball diamond.
He absentmindedly recalled one instance where they were actually on the field playing little league whenever they coyotes had snuck up and then let loose, hoping to scatter the children to make them easier targets. In this location they were afraid of nothing at that time and hunted every inch. The pack regularly did it whenever they were in the gym playing basketball and there would be someone who had a particularly squealey cheer because as far as the coyotes knew this was all theirs and didn't understand the variant and human abilities tied to monetary worth.
One could almost see the influx an outpouring of money that came through the small village. Living here one could. Whenever times were good they would construct an erect new batting cages, have new basketballs for the gym and the children would have plenty to do. In times of want and woe no one did anything and the animals retook the quiet ground. Many times he had walked out to deer standing on his front stoop which no doubt brought the coyotes.
He pulled at the shiny strands of silky web that wrapped around the end of the freshly pruned branch on the bonsai with his tweezers. He supposed that he had a new tenant in his small plum tree and started to look under the leaves for something with eight legs. He pulled gently on the omewhat sharp end that he hadn't filed smooth before he sat it in the sun to photosynthesize. He realized with a grin that it was cat hair.
If he had touched it the orange tabby refused not to smear her ever-purring face all over it. When he had unpacked the crates and started pulling out the green bags full of medical kit she stationed herself squarely on top of each of them in turn and slept there each night since he had cloistered himself away in the forward room of the hundred-year-old house. His mouser was a stage 4 clinger at this point but he couldn't particularly say that he blamed her since she didn't see him but maybe twice a day. He had become painfully aware of just how reclusive he had become but in truth didn't see the situation changing for the duration. 'Luckily' history was writing itself so that this was the most likely path the general public had laid out for everyone in society, a true change and Logistics that's demands lay on the tip of the spear of diaease and even death. It was strange seeing the habit of being a true recluse become the norm in society. It was certainly strange days and while he had swapped dog for cat and this for that, woman for more fat he would just sit where he'd sat. He did need to get to work on his car though and maybe even start his robot that could sever an inch of solid metal with an accuracy up to five thousands of an inch with a beam of plasma which was basically actual sunshine. it was little wonder that they had deemed him a mad scientist, a threat to national security, literally branded him an anarchist and then had turned around and just let him go home.
*tic*tok* He dropped a couple more rocks into one of the washing trays and picked up a fine file to clean up some of the pruning scars. He eventually would have to actually get up and leave the house to get some wire because there was no way to know the tensile strength and bendability of it without actually holding it in your hand and testing it. He genuinely hoped that there was still some at the shop but most of it was 14ga copper and his binsai were way too small for wire that heavy.
"Goodnight my little bonsai. You are beautiful, you are loved and you are vital. Thank you for sustaining me while guiding and guarding my hands. You are a gift from God." He wiped away a couple tears, double crossed himself as was often his custom and forgot his eye drops and ibuprofen again.
