MSTing: NEW YEAR'S EVE (5/6)
a.ca...@genie.com
>Meanwhile, the ground had reverted to the Grid, the sky was emptied of stars,
Crow: Sort of like the Viper Room after the nightly GHB overdose.
>and the campfire once again was pale and cold. David felt a cool wind
>brush past him, but no one else seemed to notice.
> "Believing and thinking are two different things," Jason said, after
>a while. "Because of some deeply rooted, powerful instinct, we believe
>that these conjured things are real because we feel them and see them,
Mike: --and that's why David Copperfield isn't running the espresso machine
at some coffeehouse in Queens.
>just like David was saying. You can't change this belief -- and that is
>what sustains the object. It doesn't matter if, in some abstract intell-
>ectual sense, we think that it is an illusion. Provided that we continue
>to feel it and see it and all that, the belief will be unshakeable. "
> "I think you're just playing with words," David said.
Tom: Playing with words? That's it! This whole Grid thing -- it's a giant
SCRABBLE BOARD!
>"I mean, it just seems like when you make something, it really is real!
>What's so hard to accept about that? What's so dangerous about it?"
> "Because you can get lost in dreams, then," Jason said. "When you
>start believing in illusions, you lose all touch with reality.
Mike: You start thinking you're a pirate and that you've revolutionized the
literary world by sticking some doggerel on the web and calling yourself
Reality.
>You become so you can't distinguish your own fantasies from the truth of
>this Grid here," he tapped the ground with his shoe. "This is real, beyond
>all question. This world exists, a priori,
Crow: Is that anything like al dente?
>before anything. And we exist too.
Tom [muffled voice in crowd]: "I don't."
>But all the other things we make are ephemeral and disappear as readily as
>they appear. The abillity to distinguish truth from illusion is an
>essential part of one's self. It keeps you sane. If you start accepting,
>even in just an intellectual sense, that these things exist, you open your
>mind up for anything."
Crow: "Before long you'll be smokin' reefer and covering yourself with
chocolate syrup and having mustachioed men in leather thongs licking it
off and... mmmmm, chocolate..."
> "What's the deal with the campfire and going back to the living
>world, then?" David asked. Jason shrugged his shoulders.
Tom: What, was Neal afraid we might think he shrugged his hips? Yeesh.
> "Frankly, I don't think that's real either. Sort of a group
>hallucination."
Crow: Oh, you mean like the big floating pig at Pink Floyd concerts.
> "Christ," Flint said. "You really are a downer.
Tom [muttering]: "Portrait of insanity an' I got a loyalty t' defend every
contrary..."
>Don't you believe in anything?
Crow [Jason]: "Well, I believe the children are our future -- teach them
well, and let them lead the way..."
>I think David hit it right on the nail when he said that the reason your
>Grid world -- this Grid world -- is so empty is simply because you refuse
>to believe in anything else. Except for your strange ideas about God.
Mike: "Why do you keep insisting that God lives on an aircraft carrier in
the South Pacific? We've =checked= all the aircraft carriers! He's not
there!"
>You're like the worst skeptic ever invented. What's =wrong= with
>opening your mind?"
Crow [Jason]: "Because, don't you understand -- the chocolate--"
>Flint's demeanor grew serious. David noticed that the beer can, which
>Flint had never even cracked open, was quietly vanished from Flint's hand.
Tom [David]: "Aw, man! What a waste of perfectly good =booze=!"
> "Has it ever occurred to you that we're not really dead?" Flint said.
> "What?" Jennifer spoke up. "What kind of crap is that? We all died.
>We all =remember= dying! I had a stroke, you had a heart attack, Jason got
>shot--"
Crow: Cool! That sounds pretty exciting! Let's hear about that!
Mike: I don't think it's gonna happen, my friend.
> "Actually," Flint grinned, "I put it that way for dramatic effect.
>What I mean is that we're not fully dead yet.
Crow [British]: "We're getting better!"
>Jason maintains that we should all just sit here waiting for something to
>happen, like Christ to finally show up and tell us what to do or whatever.
Tom [Christ]: "Hey, could one of you get me a soda?"
>Well I don't think anything is going to happen.
Mike: We all came to the same conclusion after about the fourteenth
"standing" scene.
>We aren't here for a purpose. Maybe it had a point at some time, but it
>doesn't have one now. You know, it's like I've been here for ages, and
>still no one has come and nothing has happened.
Crow: See, I know this is supposed to be the big point of the story, you
know, the whole nothing-happening thing, but why would anyone want to write
a story where the whole plot revolves around, well, NOTHING HAPPENING?
Mike: It's sort of a humorless philosophy-major version of "Seinfeld".
>It's still an empty heaven." Jason shifted uncomfortably on his feet,
>resisting the urge to
Crow [Jason]: "No. I will not relieve myself. That is for the lesser
races."
>interrupt. Flint pitched
Tom: --a fast, low slider... but no! it's a bloop single that drives in the
winning run for the Mariners!
>his voice lower.
> "I think death is like a train that someone built a long time ago,
>to carry us down the line to one more station," Flint said. "Maybe we were
>meant to meet someone here, and maybe whoever it was we were going to meet
>got tired of waiting.
Crow: Okay, so... which one's Godot?
Mike: I think they're all supposed to be Godot.
>Or maybe -- just maybe -- we're meant to move on. I don't know how -- maybe
>that's part of the task. But there is sure as hell nothing happening now.
All: You said it!
>And if it doesn't have a point, then why
Crow: --write the story in the first place? Who's going to want to read it?
AGGGHHHHH!
>not just let yourself go, and live out your fantasies, or whatever. I
>mean, have some fun." Flint addressed Jason directly.
Tom: "Four score and--" OW! Mike! You hit me!
Mike: That's right. I did. I'd do it again if I had to.
>"You could be here forever, Jason, still pining over an empty grid
Tom [Flint]: "I mean, there aren't even any fjords!"
>if you don't give up this strange notion of yours that we've got to wait.
>You cling to this black emptiness like it was your only salvation. I think
>we should let go.
Crow: All right! I think we should go, too.
Mike: Not "go", Crow. "=Let= go."
Crow: Yeah, I know. It was worth a shot.
>And maybe that's what it means to truly die."
> Flint smiled. "Well anyway, so much for my strange theories.
>They're as bad as Jason's. Like Jennifer says, who knows?"
> "Yeah. No one knows," Jason said, "that's why we need faith."
> Flint snorted with
Crow: --Kato and OJ.
>derision.
> "Now wait, just listen a minute," Jason said. "Open =your= mind for
>once, Flint. Look at the absolute symmetry of this world -- its perfection.
>Look at the gridlines beneath us, cut so finely in the black, arrayed in
>perfect formation from here to forever.
Tom: "It's like that scene from TRIUMPH OF THE WILL -- I get choked up just
thinking about it..."
>How can you say there is no God when we are standing on his mind?"
Crow [God]: "Man, have I ever got a headache!"
Tom: Hey, Crow, your God sounds just like your Gregory Peck.
Crow: Shut up.
> "Then why is this world empty?" Flint replied smugly.
> "It just =looks= empty," Jason said, irritated.
Mike: "There's plenty of stuff around here. I'm always tripping over stuff.
It's just invisible. Invisible stuff -- everywhere! =Everywhere=!
EEEEEVERYWHEEEEERE!"
>"That's because we cannot see. God is, and always will be, a mystery.
>Not even death can change that."
> "Maybe this place is empty because its like a blank canvas, ready
>for us to paint with our imagination!" Ellen said.
Mike: Unless you're Klein. Then you'll just paint it blue.
Tom: Great, Mike. Centre Pompidou humor. There're what, maybe six people
in the =world= that might get that?
>David raised an eyebrow at her suggestion and laughed.
> "This is great," David said, "just great. I'd always assumed that
>when I got to the afterlife, that at least =somebody= would finally tell me
>what it was all about.
Mike: Just as long as it's not L. Ron Hubbard.
>Now I find that not only can't anyone tell me the meaning of life, nobody
>can tell me what the meaning of death is either." He looked frustrated.
>"I mean, where in hell is God? Or if I've got it completely wrong, where
>is the devil?
Crow: Hmmm. Dunno. Let's page 'em.
Tom: "Mr. Yahweh, Mr. Satan, please pick up the white courtesy phone."
>It can't be this boring,"
Mike: That's what I thought when the story started. Guess what? It can be.
>he looked around at blank faces. "You've been here for =years= like this?"
>he asked.
> "Could be centuries," Jason said. "It's hard to keep track of time
>here."
Tom: "Then you figure in Daylight Savings Time, and Leap Year, and all that
stuff... I dunno. I think it's Tuesday. It feel like Tuesday to you?"
> Shuddering, David straightened his hair and then put his hands in
>his pockets.
Crow [David]: "Oh, good. It's still there."
> Flint sighed heavily.
> No one said anything for a while. David concentrated on the Grid,
>trying to follow the white lines out as far as they could go,
Tom: --straight to Medillin.
>trying to see what was on the horizon. For a moment, he thought he saw a
>faint light out there, but then he realized it was just the combined shimmer
>of the Grid.
> "Well, um, should we get going with the story-telling?" Jennifer
>asked.
Mike: Yes. Neal, why don't you start?
>Flint looked at her impishly.
> "I thought you were tired of hearing the stories," he said
>lightheartedly.
All: You thought right!
>Then with a theatrical wave of his hand, he conjured several very comfort-
>able-looking lawn-chairs stationed around the campfire, and motioned toward
>them. "Come on, let's go." Flint said. "I'm eager to hear about David."
> "Me?" David said.
Mike [Flint]: "No, the =other= David. OF COURSE you!"
> "We basically just get together and tell our life-stories. Not all
>of it obviously, just the
Crow: "--really boring stuff."
>stuff we want to talk about. It's fun. Don't worry, you don't have to say
>anything if you don't want to."
Tom: "You can just sort of stand there. Everybody's doing it."
>David shrugged his shoulders in acquiensence, and together they went to sit
>around the fire. Several people David had not previously noticed came
>along also to sit with them.
Tom: "Hi, we're extras."
Mike: Hey, isn't that Tony Mendez there in the back?
>It was clear that they all knew each other. As they approached the fire
>this time,
All: THE FIRE THIS TIME! THE FIRE THIS TIME!
>however, no transmigratory magic overtook them: the campfire remained gray
>and remote; the ghostly figures were only faded images.
Mike: Lousy reception. Man, I've gotta get cable.
>Soon, David forgot all about them. The air was thick with silence.
> "Well, who should start?" Flint asked. For a while no one said
>anything.
Crow: That makes, what, fifty-eight separate scenes of people sitting around
doing absolutely nothing?
> "Why don't you start," Ellen said.
> "Ok?" Flint asked generally. No one dissented.
Tom: Oh, they're all Anglicans.
> "Well then," he said. "Let's begin at the beginning."
Mike: That's a very good place to start.
Tom: When we read we begin with A-B-C, when we tell stories we begin with--
Crow: --a sweaty protagonist.
> It soon became clear that Flint was a master storyteller. He knew
>how to modulate his voice to emphasize the exact idea he wished to convey,
>and he knew how to pace the story so that it never digresses too much on one
>area, or skipped over so much that it lost continuity. He was a delight to
>listen to.
Mike: Too bad =he= isn't the narrator.
>Starting from his early childhood, growing up in a small suburb of Chicago,
>Flint traced his path through life: sometimes like an adventurer, marching
>foward, and sometimes like a leaf, blown by the wind.
Crow: And sometimes in complete generalities, so the writer wouldn't have to
bother to come up with interesting details.
> He spoke of his friends in high school, his sojourn in college, and
>his first real job that he got at an advertising agency.
Mike: Oh, he worked at an advertising agency? In that case, I'm glad he's
dead.
Tom: Though you'd think someone who was in advertising would wind up in hell,
not limbo.
Mike: I guess they have to save the worst punishment for people like Jeff
Slaton. And whoever came up with those Mentos commercials.
Crow: Hey! I like those! Nothing hits the spot quite like the zany antics
of inbred Swedes.
>He lingered for a while when he arrived at his first true love... and also
>when he got to his last. He became quite animated.
Crow: The studio in Korea spent nine months drawing this scene alone.
>It was an extraordinarily beautiful woman whom he finally conned into
>marrying him, he said mischeviously.
Tom: Great. Readers' Digest humor. I'll just bet he was a frequent
contributor to "Life in These United States."
>She was clearly too good for him, he explained, but he kept courting her,
>doggedly,
Crow: Then on their honeymoon she found out that wasn't the only thing he
did doggedly.
>until at last she believed that the marriage was her wish and not his.
> As the story continued, David found himself watching the reactions of
>the others as they listened. To his surprise, most of them looked bored,
Mike: Yeah, =big= surprise.
>or weren't impressed by Flint's performance.
Crow: I might've been impressed by it, if I'd been ALLOWED TO HEAR IT!
>One guy quite obviously just did not believe him.
Tom: See, if this were a movie, all the named characters would be played by
unknowns and "Saved by the Bell" rejects, and then this "one guy" would be
played by Marlon Brando.
Crow: Or Martin Sheen, maybe. And David would be played by Dan Cortese.
Tom: Good call!
>David wondered why those people bothered to listen at all.
> In due time, Flint came to the end of his story. "...and so at long
>last, I was taken here," he said.
Mike: Of all the parts Neal could've let us listen to instead of just telling
us about, why that one?
>There was polite silence.
> "A good story, as usual," Ellen offered.
Crow: Nah, let's hear a long, boring one.
Tom: Kinda redundant, dontcha think?
> "Thanks," Flint said. He seemed to sink backward into his chair.
>Then it was Jason's turn.
> Jason was shifted uncomfortably on the chair
Mike: He doesn't really bend in the middle.
>he had made for himself. "It's all really the same damn story," he said
>after a pause. David gave a start: after Flint's eloquence, Jason's tone
>came as a shock.
Tom: I guess it wasn't as good as the guy's in Deep 13C.
> "I had love and disappointment with lots of incredibly, mind-
>numbingly boring stuff inbetween, and then it was over.
Crow: Sounds a lot like this story, except for the love part, and the being
over part.
>It always goes that way. No one else who tells you their story will have
>much different to say. I feel like a dead ant asked to describe how he was
>different from all the other ants.
Tom: Aside from the being dead part, that is.
>But of course you want to know the particulars. So here goes. I was born
>in 2034,
Crow: "--in ze seventeenth year uff ze glorious Fourth Reich!"
>an only child."
> "Wait, wait," David interrupted. "What do you mean? That year
>hasn't happened yet." Ellen pre-empted Jason, smiling.
Tom: "The show you really wanted to see will not be shown tonight so we can
present the 35th Annual Country Music Awards!"
Mike: Annual? Try "Weekly".
> "You have to forget about time the way you are accustomed to it," she
>explained. "All time is now here."
Crow: Wait. So you're saying that right now, all time is here?
Tom: I think she means that here, all time is now.
Crow: But that's always true! I mean, it's now now. And now. And now.
Tom: But there, the past is also now. So's the future.
Crow: So why are things happening in linear order instead of all at once?
Tom: Maybe that's why nothing really happens th-- hey, uh, Crow, buddy...
stop biting yourself, okay?
> "I see," David said, although he didn't.
> Jason resumed:
> "I graduated from the University of Montgomery, Alabama, with a
>degree in something-or-other
Mike: Hey, that was my major, too! Did you take Prof. Achinstein's class?
>(I forget) and I married a professor of mine five years older than I was.
Tom: Only five years? Either she's an ultra-genius or he's one of these
guys who's been there for three and a half years and is still trying to
work his way up to sophomore status.
Mike: Hey!
Tom: Oh, sorry, Mike. Didn't mean to get into a touchy area there...
>We lived happily until we had children, from which time we lived in
>continual crisis, until my wife's heart attack at age sixty-one.
Crow: I wonder how long Neal spent coming up with just the perfect
completely arbitrary age?
>She lingered on in half-consciousness in the hospital for two more years
>before a second one finished her off. I myself lived on for another thirty
>years. The only truly exciting event happened right at the end.
Mike: "But you don't want to hear about that. Let me tell you about the
really dull stuff."
>It was a dull thirty years, puttering around the Caribbean, checking
>up on the kids..." Jason continued to lecture, describing in rich, decadent
>detail the fading period of his life --
Crow: He'd lick Metamucil off the chests of highly-paid call girls!
>but David was no longer interested in hearing the stories.
> Jason was right, he thought, they =are= all the same. Besides, as
>Jennifer said, none of it mattered now.
Tom: Hmm. Boring =and= inconsequential. Not a real good combination.
>He was frustrated: there were so many questions unanswered about this
>afterlife, this phantom world that was not Heaven or Hell or nothingness --
>but no one had asked them and no one was going to ask them. How was it
>that Jason could be dead when he hadn't even been born yet?
Mike: Hey, it happened to that whole Lambada thing.
>Why was there so much darkness?
Crow: Umm... 'cause there weren't any lights around?
>Why was there anything at all?
Mike: Because there just was.
Crow: Why?
Mike: Because that's just the way things were.
Crow: Why?
Mike: BECAUSE I SAID SO!
>But no! These people stubbornly refused to ask.
> Here they stayed, sitting around a campfire and telling stories to
>each other in old ritual as if they were still alive and nothing had changed
Tom: Wow. Eight words, two Pearl Jam references.
>-- which would have been fine, David thought, except that everything had
>changed. Flint had been so close to the truth when he described Jason,
>David realized, but it wasn't really the Grid that Jason and the rest of
>them were hanging onto. They were clinging to =life=, like young opposums
>clinging to their mother's fur. They were afraid to face death.
Mike: I don't see why. She's really nice. Cute, too. And you've gotta
dig that ankh.
> The story-telling had proceeded apace while David was thinking, and
>it had worked its way around the greater part of the circle. Except for a
>few others who David didn't know,
Tom: Man, these extras are cleaning up, aren't they?
>only Ellen and David had yet to lay their histories before the group as one
>might an offering, or instead -- as Jason had done -- to hurl them like logs
>onto the fire to be rid of them. When it came Ellen's turn, she politely
>declined to tell her story. "Just do it,"
Crow: Ah, now I get it. The story may not have sold, but Neal thought he
could still make a tidy sum selling ad space.
>Jennifer and others pressed her, yet she simply adjusted her skirt and
>stayed quiet. =Good for you=, David thought, and smiled inwardly.
Tom: What, with his pancreas?
>At least someone had shown a little courage here. Finally the others gave
>up and looked to David.
> "Do you want to tell us about your life?" Jennifer asked.
> "Not really," David said, but he relented when Jennifer looked
>disappointed.
> "Well, a little, I guess. I just feel so disoriented that nothing's
>in focus yet. Uh, let's see. I was born in..." he laughed. "Shit,
Mike: Really? That's kind of a depressing way to start your life.
Crow: He was born in carrots? I don't get it.
>now where was I born? Oh yeah, it was Los Angeles. Duh.
Tom: Why did I not doubt that that word was a big part of David's natural
vocabulary?
>It's not like I lived my whole life there or anything. Anyway, uh, what's
>to say. I went to school, then I got accepted to Rice University.
Crow: This sentence brought to you by the flip-flip-point method!
>and -- oh, this was in 1989, by the way -- and I had a great time there...
>I majored in Biz-Ad...
Mike: He majored in a detergent commercial?
>I had a girlfriend, for a while... and then last night I climbed into my
>truck after getting pretty well plastered and ended up driving myself into
>a concrete wall.
Crow: Why don't they look?
>And that's it."
> "Surely there's more to it than that!" Jennifer said. "What about
>your hobbies, or your interests? They are as much a part of your life as
>any of your college was."
Crow [David]: "You're telling me! We're talking six, seven times a day!"
> "Uh, let's see. I collected stamps for a while when I was in sixth
>grade," he chuckled, "and I played soccer on the varsity team in high
>school. Didn't bother to play at college though. I don't know." He tried
>to remember what kinds of things Flint had talked about. "I had some good
>friends, I guess..."
Mike: "There were six of us, and we lived in New York, and hung out at this
coffee shop, and for a while we had a monkey..."
> "Maybe we should wait until you've had some time to sort it all out,"
>Jason said, trying to be helpful.
> "Yeah, probably," David agreed. But he didn't feel much like trying
>to sort out anything.
Tom: That explains all the pink T-shirts.
> "Uh, would you mind if I walked around for a little bit?" David said.
>"I need some time to myself."
> "Sure, no problem," Jason said. "It'll probably do you some good."
Mike: So might a solid beating.
Tom: You know what might do us some good? Getting out of here. Let's go.
[1...2...3...4...5...6...]
[SOL. Scattered over the desk are various books, maps, dice and such.]
Tom: You go first, Crow.
Crow: Okay. My name is Crow. I died when I was... roll the dice, Mike.
[Mike rolls a pair of ten-sided dice. The first one comes up 8, the other
comes up 4.]
Crow: Hey, 84! Not bad! I mean... I was eighty-four. I died alone. And
I grew up in... spin the globe, Mike.
[Mike spins the globe and sticks a pointer in Crow's hand. Soon the globe
comes to a rest.]
Crow: Hmm. Okay, sure. I grew up in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Tom: Well, you know, statistically speaking--
Crow: Hey! This is =my= time! Let's keep going. Now, when I was in
college, I majored in... okay, Mike, go.
[Mike flips through the encyclopedia.]
Crow: Stop! Okay... it seems I majored in Chester A. Arthur. And that's my
life, pretty much!
Tom: Okay, my turn! Roll the dice, Mike!
Mike: Nah, it's been done. Let's check in with Dr. F.
[Deep 13B. Water is just pouring from the ceiling.]
Dr.F.: Aaahhh! I'm melting!
[SOL]
Mike: Okay, that was surreal. Now where did those dice go?
[Deep 13B]
Dr.F.: I'm going to =KILL= those kids.
[There's a knock on the door. Dr.F. peeks through the peephole, sees it
isn't an angry Slovene, and opens the door. Standing there is a guy who
looks exactly like Torgo -- including the knees -- only his beard is grayer
and stragglier and his periodontal care is much worse. He is surrounded by
several dozen little Amerasian kids.]
Torgo: sORrY aBouT ThE WAtEr. EMmaNueL TUrNEd tHE bAthTUb oN aND thEn fELl
aSLeeP. eMManUeL, teLL thE mAn yOu'Re soRRy.
[One little kid emerges from the crowd.]
Emmanuel: Uh... uhhh... you're a poopy-head! [throws toilet paper at Dr.F.]
Brute: MY TAWLET PAPER! I WILL KEEL YOU LITTLE BOY!
[Brute comes thundering out of nowhere, trampling several little kids -- and
Torgo's 3'11" mail-order bride -- and drags Emmanuel off screen.]
Dr.F.: Hey! Would you mind popping the trumpet player while you're at it?
[Commercials]
[Concluded in Part 6]