Living in Wonju South Korea, These Many Long Years

Living in Wonju South Korea, These Many Long Years: Version 2.0!

Thursday, March 20, 2014


waeg had worked the formula several times: if all variables held, the experiment would work.  He would finally move beyond his corporeal frame.

As a good scientist, he turned over all what he could become: with no attachment to fallible finite human affairs, could he still entertain benevolence?  He was only anticipating that after the transformation, if his attention were drawn to the ball of mud that gave him birth, his revulsion towards the insect like species that infested it would cause him to eliminate, despite how he could not be without having been so. . . limited.

It won't happen.  I'm sure once the process is complete, there will be no impetus to acknowledge origins, since such a minute focus of understanding would no longer be attainable. In short order, I will know the importance of fostering life in all its forms.

He was ready.  It was time.

He put the crystals in the machine.  It had been a bargain at 39.99 on Ebay.  He was ready to transform into pure energy and become a child of the universe.  His finger hovered over the button for perhaps a second longer than it should, but then he pressed.

The shock flung him against the wall and knocked the electrodes off his head.  Thoughts scrambled and disjointed, vision impaired.  Colors were more vivid, more attuned to the violet shift that would occur when time no longer mattered, and perception became true. . .   He saw the stars, then beyond, to the white white heat, until the pure essence of what is came to be known. . . it was brilliance, it was purity, it was light. . .

It was the bubbles in the paint in the wall that he'd smacked his head.

The instructions on the box had been clear: do not attempt during misalignment.  He figured it was still worth a go, as the next proper alignment of constellations was a good 300 years off. He'd done the calculations, downloaded the proper manuals from the internet, knew it was not only a question of will and grinding the right crystal, but knowing that the right vision and flexibility were yours, if only you committed. . .

When his mind cleared he got up and got a beer from the fridge.  On his way back he threw the machine in the trash.  Once secured in his bubble of a room, he picked a random book from the floor: Spinoza's Ethics.  He flipped to a random page, and for a second wondered what he could have neglected in the process of becoming 'enlightened'.

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