The Explorer

Automagic Bowinator

2006-05-08T15:52:00.000-05:00

On a busy monday afternoon, in the heat of the day, Greg bounded down the walkway on 24th street. Half past two and nothing to do - he was running around exploring campus. He tore across the street, in front of a car, toward Welch, the old behemoth. Passing the trees, he came to the door and ran in.

Up at the top of the stairs, something caught his eye. It was a valve - like all the valves and pipes that were in plain view around campus - but it was rainbow-colored!

What would you do?

Greg went right over, without even thinking, and gave the knob a full turn. He waited a moment; nothing happened. Then he heard an incomprehensibly loud noise.

He looked around, remaining as motionless as possible. No one had seen him, probably. Still in shock, he turned around and ran down the stairs, and back outside, only to be more surprised. With the sun still shining brightly, it was absolutely pouring, everywhere in sight. He was drenched in seconds, but he didn't run back inside - because he was mesmerized by eight magnificent rainbows that now ruled the sky. Everyone had stopped going wherever they were going, and stood in awe.

Greg looked around. Would it stop? He went back in the building. The pipes were shuddering visibly - dangerously! He stepped up into the sharp sprays of water coming out of the joints in the pipe, and grapsed the rainbow knob. He struggled with it - but the knob wouldn't turn. Water was obviously coming through at an incredible speed - the valve was stuck open for good.

Whoops.

Reason

2006-05-08T15:10:00.000-05:00

(this is not a true story)

On that day in class, I think our professor was giving us this problem: "So we have k people on an elevator. If there are n floors in the building, and it is completely random who gets off at what floor, what is the expected number of stops the elevator has to make?" Logic problems are so strange, when you think about it. Who comes up with such ideas? I can't imagine.

"So what should x sub i be?" He asked. Everyone was always slow to think about it and respond, except a few guys at the top: "the floor that person i gets off at."

"No - that's actually the wrong way to go about-" Suddenly the guy sitting next to me started crying! I didn't really know him - his name was Michael, I think. I just sat there for a moment, frozen - I didn't know what to do. Gosh, what was he going through? I hadn't heard someone cry like that in years - it was hard to imagine and hard to listen to, but he just wouldn't stop. It got worse. He was crying violently, uncontrolably - people never cry when they have seizures, do they?

He was pounding is fist on the table, with his face buried in his other arm. I couldn't bear it anymore. Without knowing what to think of it, I reached out and put my arm around him, and tried to console him. "It's okay man - it'll be all right." By now the whole class was just dead silent. I patted his back and continued to ask him what was wrong. It was a strange experience for me - if this compassion had been inside of me all along, I had not known. Did I just want him to stop, because it was uncomfortable? "It's okay, it's okay..." and he just kept crying, with no end in sight. I turned and looked at the professor, wondering what to do; he kind of motioned for us to go outside, so I got Michael up out of his seat, and, still with my arm around him, walked him out the door. Where even more people could see him, I guess.

I looked at him intently. "Why are you crying?" I pleaded. Is anyone so suddenly just not able to take it anymore? Maybe it was none of my business, but I was desperate to know. With effort, he looked up, and sobbed, "I don't know!" I frowned; his answer only made me more troubled. "I just don't know." I rubbed his shoulders; I wished I could do something to help him.

Michael was so upset that I worried he wasn't going to make it. But he did; the next day, he was back in class, and seemed to be holding out. I was of course attentive to him when I came in; I asked him how he was doing, tried to inquire further. But since the previous day, I have always had trouble getting close to him; he has been friendly, and I know he appreciated my concern for him that day, but it seems I can only scratch the surface of his character. I question over and over again why I had that experience. It makes me wonder intently about my own life, and my friends' lives; it was a very strange thing, and I will never forget it. Maybe someday I will understand.

An Act of Unspeakable Violence

2006-02-25T12:13:00.000-06:00

Lucy came running up the stairs, screaming, crying her eyes out. She was tragically upset.

What had she seen?

--------------------

"Hey, don't give the rhino such a huge butt!" Calvin joked. The girls giggled. "It's making me uncomfortable."

"Yeah, well maybe if your ostrich wasn't staring at it, I wouldn't be so inclined..." Kathy retorted. Gray paint dripped from her brush onto the ground beside Calvin, while he brought gooey ostrich feet to life. Michaela turned up the 80's music on the radio. "Gosh, turn it down, Michaela! I'll get the urge to dance and fall of the ladder!" Kathy said. Michaela just kept dancing and making squiggly brush strokes.

Over the edge of the stairwell, Kathy could see people looking curiously to see what on Earth was going on down there. What a weird place to paint a mural, after all! It was a stairwell down to a basement office. People probably passed by every day without even noticing it was there. Kathy hoped their work wouldn't go unappreciated. But at least it was fun for them.

--------------------

Alaina lifted the tarp up over the edge, with a flourish.

"Whoa..." The group stood almost speechless, admiring her work: a large stately white swan, the centerpiece. Alaina was just simply a master. There seemed to be something deep within the swan's darkly lined eyes - some secret wisdom. They could hardly separate their eyes from it.

--------------------

I listened to Lucy. She was still wailing, mortified, as she clung to her mother. It was very hard to watch...but for a moment I couldn't move or look away. "Mom, they killed my animals!"

I went down the stairwell, and I was horrified.

The walls were raped by hordes or red paint. Blood...blood on everything...on the beaver, the ostrich's legs, the hippopotamus, the monkeys, lying in pain, their bones broken...everything meticulously and torturously reworked, excruciated. The animals were twisted in strange and sickening positions. Blood lined every feather of the swan, encircled its eye, giving it a desperate, maddening gaze. It looked as though it had snapped under agony into horrified disbelief, unable to even face this reality anymore.

I walked up the stairwell...I turned around, walked up...I took steps...I left, that place...I returned, to the world...I, I looked back at Lucy, I just stared...back up the stairwell...into the light...over to Lucy and her mother...

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Jim turned around just in time to see a huge pink blob of incoming paint impact his blue shirt. He started laughing in slow realization, and looked up at Lucy, laughing harder. He flicked little dots of bright green back at her, forming streaks upon her face. "Hey!" she lunged at him with her brush, almost knocking into the wet paint on the wall. Her nascent flamingo watched in amusement. It wanted to clean the little bits of green off itself, but unfortunately, it was a static creature, given the opportunity to view a tiny but heartwarming piece of the world.

--------------------

What many days of hard work produces, one night of evil destroys.

Paint anyway.

(X and Y) or (X and not Y) = X: Part I

2006-02-15T11:09:00.000-06:00

It is debatable whether John found his way to the roof. He had exited into the stairwell, and just before he had started to go down, he had noticed the curious blue streak that paralleled the stair's ascent, like an angular upward helix. When did that get painted? It stopped abruptly at the edge of the landing he was on, but strangely, it didn't seem like a work in progress. Why would that be? He didn't know why it drew him on; he didn't even think about it as he followed it up. But he would eventually be bothered by the fact that he felt so compelled to investigate a perfectly explainable phenomenon.

The stairwell darked on his way up; and then, at the top, a solitary light bulb sentineled the door. It was slate gray and heavily scratched at the bottom. He looked back at the blue streak, and his eyes followed it to the doorjamb. It didn't stop there -- it appeared to cross through to the other side of the door...

The moment the knob turned in his hand and the door swung open, John felt like he had known all along that it was unlocked. Did they keep roof access doors unlocked much of the time? Surely not! He stepped out -- into light rain. He had forgotten...it was one of those days when you would like to wrap up behind a big window and watch. But this was a rare opportunity.

When he pivoted around the corner, he almost did a double take.

Sally was here.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" John kind of laughed, walking toward her. She smiled brightly, and almost seemed like she wasn't going to answer, still leaning in the corner a good thirty feet away. Fortunately, there was a wall around the entire area; they were hidden from the world.

Sally's eyes darted mischievously. "No telling..." she admitted, as he drew near. John was not used to the situation -- she stood before him so openly, and it was only natural for him to walk right up and embrace her. Their eyes locked, as if they had crossed an event horizon; and then, in turn, their lips met. Sally was soft and warm; her violet blouse was fuzzy in his hands. Suddenly John felt an affection for her he had rarely felt before.

That evening, as they walked back to his apartment, if the sun had gone down, it hardly felt like it. Had they stopped smiling once this whole time?

"Hey, how was your day?" John asked. Sally laughed suddenly. "You know, we've hardly said anything about that this whole time, have we? It was great - Professor Arliss is so entertaining! He was talking about intelligence and espionage today - he kept acting paranoid, like someone was watching him. 'Oh shit, how did this get mixed in with all the other slides?? I can't show this here, for God's sake!' He's a great actor."

"I thought you hated him!"

"No...since I told you that I've really changed my mind. At the beginning of the year he seemed like a jerk...well, he still is, as far as grades and everything...but I've started to see his redeeming qualities."

"Well that's great."

"Oh, look!" Sally pointed. A dark and harrowing sunset with a firey core came into view between the tall buildings that surrounded them. "All this time we haven't noticed..." John held her closer while they stood in awe. Her hair flowed in the wind; the light on her face was beautiful.

"Hey, let's see if we can get a better view!"
"Yeah!"

He took her hand excitedly and they ran into the ERC. Sally brushed her hair back as it settled. "I've never been here before." she said, looking around at the wood paneling on the walls, and the eccentric lighting overhead. Escalators hummed off to the side. They may have been the only people in the building, given the hour.

Cold, narrow floodlights glided over them as they ascended the elevators. John turned to look at Sally - her eyes were just like she watched the sunset, but she was looking at him, with a faint smile that came from deep within. She leaned forward to hold him, burying her face in his shoulder. He was overcome. He felt strangely...

"Oh, this is perfect!" Sally effused. John took her again by the waist and they slowly approached the wide array of glass before them. They were twenty-two floors up; nothing impeded the view. The sunset had grown warmer now, and was accelerating...but time seemed to slow to counteract the briefness of its intensity.

"Do you think there is someone watching, with us?"

"Not for a very long way..." John replied. "Few people even recognize God's artwork in this day and age - what little time we have, we are usually too immersed in our own creations."

It was a cynical statement, but Sally smiled. "I would rather be here watching sunsets with you instead."

John beamed. "That's why I love you."

A moment later, in silence, his words came back to him. There was a feeling...an obscure feeling that he could not escape. Why did he feel it?

He turned his eyes to look at Sally as she continued to admire the sunset. She seemed to have an everlasting smile on her face. Her happiness was so genuine that it almost brought him to tears.

Why did he feel this way?

Tethered between extreme happiness and growing worry, John didn't understand. He tried to suppress the feeling; he tried to drive it away, to ignore it, to rationalize it. It didn't make any sense. But it persisted. He was haunted by the thought:

This is not Sally.

Hazel

2006-02-09T14:58:00.000-06:00

As Jessica entered the shower - wait a minute - those curtains are blue!

Had they been green before? Yeah, she was pretty sure they had been changed. Jessica unloaded her toiletries, turned the knob, and took a blue shower.

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Michael awoke to a glint of sunlight on his eyelashes, forgetting almost instantly what he had dreamed. From between the half-closed blinds, he could see that the sunrise was magnificent. Did that mean today would be a great day?

Finished dressing, he began to fill his pockets with his various things. Then he stopped - he had almost pocketed a blue dollar bill, without even noticing. "Whoa..." All his dollar bills were blue! What else? His shirts, toothbrush, his failing plant, all formerly green, were now blue!

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"Hey--" Jessica pointed to the trees, stopping the first innocent bystander on her way to work. "What color does that look to you?"

"It's blue, I know, I know! You see it too? Thank God! I thought I was going colorblind! But what on earth is happening?"

"I don't know. I had the feeling that my eyesight was fine...I'm not sure why...like I could still see green, if I could just find it somewhere."

---------------

Michael got out his paints -- no green and two blues. Lifting his brush to the canvas, a thought occured to him. He brought the brush back down, dabbed it in the blue, and swirled it in the yellow...

Green.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. He thought for a blind man to see again must be one of the most wonderful feelings in the world...and it had only been half a day since he had seen the color. Almost instinctively, he began to paint trees, grass, molehills, anything he could think of that was green. Before, he had always been fascinated with industrial scenes; nature was too difficult, and it tried his patience. Now he was desperate -- he felt like he would be on the verge of nostalgia before long. Would things ever be green again? The question really worried him.

"Hey -- that's -- look what you've got! It's green!" Melody shouted out, grabbing his attention. "Look, everyone!"

Wow!
Her eyes!
He had never noticed how beautiful her eyes were before!

Significant Figures

2006-02-09T00:13:00.000-06:00

The sunset that night was very calming. Blue and deep, flanked by weighty clouds - Adam paused to admire it. He let it sink into his eyes and color his spirits.

As he relaxed, strains of the song he had heard earlier that day welled back up into his mind. Images of the man who had been singing flashed through Adam's imagination; he remembered the purple and green stripes on the man's shirt, the golden tones of the guitar and the man's mellow voice. Live while you can...learn to love...don't follow their rules...before you know it, it'll be over...

The janitor! "Hard, but you'll make it!" Adam laughed. Damn that homework -- was it that obvious how much it was getting to me? "Gimme five!" What a great guy...obviously he doesn't mind his position, being around college kids who are bound for more money. Time to go..."

Next to the mail boxes, Adam came across a bunch of playing cards, scattered on the floor. Some were even under the bench. He almost walked on, but -- what was that? Something had caught his eye. He bent down. Eight of clubs? No... five of diamonds, six of clubs... Then Adam stood up, holding another card in his hand. He shook his head.

It was the twenty-two of hearts.

Bending over again, Adam began to finger more of the cards, flip them, shuffle them around. Nine of diamonds. King of spades. Seven of hearts. All normal!

Adam stared back at the twenty-two, frowning. He pocketed it. Maybe it was stealing, something like that. The twenty-two of hearts - that's a big deal! Adam decided it would only be right to show it to everyone he know, in time. Had the previous owner known? Who would just scatter such a special deck?

Adam shrugged to himself, and made his way back to his room.

The Most Beautiful Girl

2006-02-08T23:50:00.000-06:00

The door made a loud noise that echoed through the hollow stairwell as I pushed it open. I entered into a hall that was delightfully plain...boring, in other words. But keep in mind, I am a connoisseur of places. This hall wasn't even on the side of the building arrayed with slender windows. Was the sun setting by now?

Suddenly, between the file cabinets, trash cans, and chairs lining the hall, a change in the air caught caught me off guard! Surely this perfume left a luscious woman behind...I stood and savored her forgone presence. I searched for the source, but the scent was only an inordinate cloud, a delicacy.

I wished I could take it with me, as a private souvenir of a curious experience. I wanted to own the scent, even; I wanted it to be mine. But I had to let it go. I continued on my way; there were many interesting sights ahead of me.

Sadly, back in the shadow of the disembodied perfume, the most beautiful girl that never was watched me, tenderly, as if through a curtain. She reached out; tears formed in her eyes. Would I, an explorer of a million places, ever come back here? I think so. It was a charming scent, a sacred place. But I kept walking. Having passed through a rip in time, I seem to have been bound for other things - or maybe other things were bound for me.