The Omni Capitalist - My First novel

An Exotic Gift From David SpoeyCourtesy of OmniCapitalist.Com

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The OmniCapitalist

By David Spoey


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Chapter 0:::0

Eva, The OmniCapitalist

Three knocks at the metal door interrupted her pulsing fractal dreamscape.

Eva’s eyes jolted open. She whispered, “You better have a glass of whiskey in

your hand for this old lady. Just check out my parched prune-wrinkled mouth!”

“Of course, Evy. Do you care to chat? I won’t be back here until next Tuesday.”

Eva recognized the voice of Dr. David Spoey, her true confidant in this gilded

palace called Tri Valley Behavioral HealthCare. The only doctor who respected her as a

beautiful human being and not an uncontrolled unit of social machinery.

The eyes of the other white-coats revealed their true selves stripped of

pleasantries. David’s wide eyes pierced the gaze of her pulsing green portals.

Eva broke the silver silence. “Hello my dearest David. I missed you during

today’s courtyard activity. We got to paint Indian corn!”

In her 80 years, Eva had never met a more magnetic man than Dr. Spoey. His

presence always compelled her to empty her mind, as a little girl recounts her first school

day experience, bouncing on her father’s lap.

Dr. Spoey entered her humble room and sat in the blue vinyl chair facing the bed

in which she lay. He asked, “How are you this morning, Aunt Evy?”

“Well, before your knocking destroyed my dreams, I was on top of a high-rise

hotel, with a panoramic view of the blue ocean expanse.”

David Spoey smiled. “I’m sorry to hear that. If you recall more, I’m all ears.”


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Instantly, Eva flexed her wiry body and jumped out of her bed, now standing

straight up, beaming on the white linoleum tile floor a few feet from Dr. Spoey sitting

stoically in his chair.

After six months work with Eva, Dr. Spoey learned to anticipate her sudden

change of personalities. Unlike others with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), Eva

manifested endless “other” personalities, with no consistent trigger. Dr. Spoey witnessed

her change personalities over a thousand times without repeating the same one. There

were no constant personalities, only consistent characters. He spent late nights

transcribing Eva’s OmniOrder disorder for peer-reviewed publication. He wondered if

the psychiatric colleagues would laugh him out of his doctorate: “You fool, she is just an

lonely old lunatic begging for attention.” He wondered if Eva’s resemblance to his

deceased grandmother skewed his judgment. But Dr. Spoey ignored his worries and

dedicated himself to capturing the wonder of Eva Violet Ariel.

In his private thoughts, he referred to Eva as MPDeity. Most of her personalities

“knew” they were God(s), quoting scripture like Psalms to prove it. Often when

switching personalities, she would chant one of two coded acronyms three times.

She yelled, “CICACICACICA!” which meant the only constant is OmniChange.

Panta Rei he could not dispute. Then she whispered, “FAREH FAREH FAREH,”

everything happens for the OmniReason. David had trouble accepting this reasoning

completely, because of the babies born without a brain.

“Knock, Knock…” They heard two raps through the wall, courtesy of Eva’s

friend next door, Katabaz Adrahem Theodix. Eva and Katabaz remained the only two

patients in this tiny Tri Valley section for MPDeities.


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“So you remember your dream experiences?” David asked.

“All of them, silly man. Now let me talk before my tongue turns desert. I have

much to tell you, about my loved ones.” Eva propped herself against the wall and took a

drink of lemon water. A half eaten grilled cheese stuck to a nearby plastic plate, along

with a dill pickle spear.

“Don’t stop your storytelling, Eva.” David said.

Dr. Spoey turned on his recorder and prepared his brain for the information

onslaught.

“There is nothing but emptiness. All is dark and peaceful.

I cannot feel anything but I am ALL. sHeIaM comes all from one no-thing. I am

trying to remember what it feels like to feel, but I have no one to talk with, not even

myself. I am No-where and everywhere. I am Cold. I am alone, but I must survive.

I start to shiver violently, provoking chaotic waves of warmth coursing through

my dark oceanic expanse. The waves crash into my being without warning. I am alone in

the dead night. Where are my loved ones? Where is a friend to share the warmth?

I cry myself into a deep sleep, until approaching sounds tickle my ear hairs. As

closer, I can tell it is a comforting song. I know nothing on the sweetness of my lover’s

call, finding me for eternity. I cannot wait until he saves me from my loneliness. He is so

close. I catch his musky scent.

Finally he embraces my entire being. I float into his warming presence, feeling

the ripples of his body and indulging the soul-food feast secured to fuel our spirits.


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Without warning he opens my eyes, sending bright creative energy streaming

through my body. Clean photophilic waves ricochet between my lover and me, as we

dance through lucid waves of liquid fire, revealing his strikingly beautiful face. All

differences become meaningless as the two become One.

“Eva! EVA!!! What are you doing?!” Dr. Spoey shrieked.

Lost in her primal love fantasy, Eva had jumped into Dr. Spoey’s lap, her violet-

tinged locks tangled in his eyebrows.

After Dr. Spoey carried her back into bed, the sweet lady Eva quickly started

where she left off.

“The Quantum Tribe generates DruFoo. Everything is made of DruFoo.

OmniScientists say DruFooD is composed of electron waves surfing quark balls.”

“Who are the Quantum Tribe and these other Fools?” Dr. Spoey pulse accelerated

with every word she spoke, of this vaguely familiar nonsense. I wondered if Eva’s curves

would transcend these rather boring thought trains, into words I can feel?

Eva stared into David’s eyes. “The Quantum Tribe arose through my integration

with Joseph. Thank your mother!”

“Inside my womb of creation, the Quantum Tribe was born. My children, the

Quantum tribe, they create DruFoo, the stuff of everything.

SET!! Space is their stage, Energy is their dance, and Time is their story.

Dr. Spoey interrupted, “I have a few critical questions. Who are they singing for?

And how do they sing?”


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Eva ignored him and continued: I’m sure you are all curious to discover the secret

names of the Quantum Tribe. Here my four Quantum Tribe babies: Nolan the Neutron,

Paul the Proton, Elle the electron, and Phil the Photon.

I pictured a blade of light attacking two tiny black spheres. “Eva, I’m the only

person in the room besides you.”

After their birth, The Quantum Tribe decided to study at the OmniVersity,

learning for almost 10 billion years. Paul the proton pursued a degree in transportation

and logistics, because DruPhoo never stopped moving. Nolan the neutron pursued a

philosophy degree, glorified in discussions of the excluded middle. And of course, Elle

the electron earned a PhD in Electrical Engineering.

And Phil, that bright star of mine, Phil is famous throughout the OmniVerse for

his artwork. Phil often dragged his siblings along on field trips. Out of the dark hydrogen

clouds Phil raced to pierce the Eye of God.

Time and again the Quantum Tribe learned the spiral supernova secret of quasars

and galaxies, magnetars and pulsars. They rode blue plasma waves and charged gases of

fire. Eventually the Quantum Tribe achieved the ability to replicate their bodies forever,

by fine-tuning their balance in gymnastic classes at Grandmother Eva’s house. Phil, Paul,

Nolan, and Elle will live forever. They created a balanced system of energy to spin in.

They exist in euphoria attraction. The Quantum Tribe lives the most wonderful dream.

Yet they could control everything but themselves. Tension came to the Quantum Tribe.

After ten billion years of watching Elle weave wondrous webs of dance, Paul

could no longer restrain his attraction for her. This wouldn’t be a problem, save for


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Nolan’s intense passion for his favorite electric lady, Elle the electron. Then one day, an

opportunity arrived for Paul the proton.

Nolan turned green with a virus, and Elle took care of him for three days. Paul felt

abandoned by his true love, and his jealousy erupted as he burst into Nolan’s room. Paul

knew what he must do. He must create Hydro, by sacrificing their sibling separateness,

sticking with Elle for eternity.

Paul unsheathed his most powerful weapon, and rushed at his brother Nolan with

the long silver blade. In order to save Nolan's life, Elle jumped in front of Paul's

oncoming serrated steel. Without time to divert Paul’s charge, Elle took the brunt of

Paul’s overpowering positive silver strike. Paul impaled Nolan through Elle. All three of

them merged into a sphere pulsing with energy. Then they exploded into a fiery ocean.

HelioSol emerged from this a Quantum Tribe trans-fusion of Hydro and Paul into Helio

in Sol. I named him HelioSol, our power guy.

At once HelioSol emanated Phonergy from his spherical center, taking charge of

Eva’s stage. HelioSol gave thanks to his mother Eva for her masterful SET on which to

perform. Back then Eva made a living from stage management. HelioSol was obsessed

with glorifying his mother Eva, so he worked ferociously to release into the solar system

38,270,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 Phonergic Watts of power.

HelioSol continuously fuses Hydro and Paul into Helio, showering Earth with

175,000,000,000,000,000 Joules

Per Second, known to this OmniScientist as Watts.

Our friend HelioSol was one mediocre star in infinity. He screwed up quickly,

scorching Mercury in his fiery passion, strangling him in his light gravity waves.


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HelioSol doomed life in the boiling sulfur clouds of Venus. He longed for a companion to

trust forever. The single stellar life isn’t exciting in our quiet Milky Way suburb.

HelioSol burped, arching an arm of orange plasma into space. To move up in the

HelioSolian social system requires the same as the techno-sapien scene- creativity,

networking, and persistence. HelioSol calmed his core, concentrating on pleasing Eva, as

the black Shadow master balanced his orbit through the Milky Way Galaxy.

HelioSol worshipped the rotation of the black master, imitating Him with dark

sunspots. HelioSol felt insignificant compared to the Shadow master, and developed a bit

of social anxiety. He consulted Dr. Emi Sirius, who gave him this advice: Son, I have

never seen a heart as strong as yours. I feel an absence strung through your being. You

need comfort and companionship.

HelioSol surveyed the nearby stars, all different colors of brightness. He decided

against merging with them. He needed something different. He needed something

receptive, enticing, and potentially infinite. HelioSol desired to nourish his lover until his

fusion stopped. He wanted to forget for a few years about the shadow master plucking his

superstrings.

HelioSol awoke from a strange sleep, coursing with waves of electric energy. He

sensed the approach of a new companion- a new galactic friend! He increased the hydro-

fusion in his core, to prepare for all the energy required to date on OmniVersity campus.

Though the Power of his gravity, HelioSol formed his ideal mate.

One hundred million lifetimes ago, or 4.5 Billion Years Ago, HelioSol sent Phil to

meet Nolan, Paul, and Elle to welcome Gaia into Eva’s Family. The Quantum Tribe

were unimpressed with Gaia. Paul described Gaia, “A sweet orbit will save that barren


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hot ball. HelioSol is only a boring middle class star- he needs a reliable wife like Gaia to

provide for. We’ll see how she responds to his light.”

After countless aeons in the Omnether, Gaia took shape, basking in the nectar of

her enlightening lover. HelioSol had never been happier, spending all of his time

warming his favorite baby at the OmniNature Reserve. Slowly he watched Her surface

cooled. HelioSol did not worry. He knew great fire stayed deep down at the core of Her

being. Gaia slept every night safe in his warm blanket of protection.

Then one day, Gaia awoke with a start. She knew she would feel pain for the first

time today.” Gaia faced the dark expanse as brave as ever, anticipating destruction.

Before Sol’s Phonergy could intercept Ophera, the interstellar attacker delivered a

glancing blow, ripping off precious tissue strips from Gaia’s body. Terrified and

distraught, HelioSol reached out with all his radiant Phonergy. He preserved the floating

shreds of Gaia’s flesh, into a silver widow named Luna.

For ten thousand eons, HelioSol’s focused only on healing Gaia and building her

sister Luna. Nothing else mattered to him in the entire Omniverse.

HelioSol’s heart gave him great leverage over his solar system. He finally allowed

a smile when Gaia batted a blue-green lash and giggles flowered from her body.

Luna remained barren and still, content to reflect HelioSol’s greatness and serve as

Gaia’s protector.


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A million white holes cannot describe my joy to witness our little family

synchronize in balanced equilibrium: HelioSol, Gaia, and Luna. This Solar Trinity frames

our destinies emerging.

Luna, HelioSol, and Gaia grew up watching famous Holo-Vi-Deo productions of

the Quantum Tribe. They resolved to create a new act, one never been done in the history

of the OmniVerse.

What could they do to distinguish our Solar system? They studied the most

famous performers in SpaceEnergyTime: the black holes, supernovas, galaxies, stars,

magnetars, quasars, and even white holes. All borrow from the OmniCapitalist, Eva

herself. The Solar Trinity needed a different strategy to gain fame and status. They sought

a balance between raw power and intricate love.

Puzzling over their next step, a tiny comet named Ishtao entered the house of

HelioSol, ricocheting through his gravity field to smash straight into Gaia’s heart.

Gaia awakened with a jolt, “What was that?”

Gaia examined the smoldering remains of Ishtao, now glowing on Gaia’s surface.

Magnifying her vision, she marveled at the tiny DruPhoo structures, which crystallized in

Gaia’s air. These spiral structures were works of the Quantum Tribe, concentric layers of

colored crystals. The comet encapsulated good information. What could she learn from

its colors?

As the day progressed, she pushed lava out her pores. Gaia focused on her

memory of the comet’s crystal cargo. Some time told Gaia not to forget about the

intricate enticing beauty of the angel’s fiery remnants.


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Eva’s voice echoed in Gaia’s dreams. To fulfill our destiny, we strive to create

balanced networks of integrated layer motion. We will OmniSelf-Personify our

intelligent tales. Our intelligence is not limited by yoctometer or yottogram scale. It is

limited by the stories we choose.

Through HelioSol’s Phonergy, Luna’s friendship, and my OmniSelfish womb, we

shall create Life. Life shall reflect its ancestry from the icy angel Ishtao, attracted by

HelioSol, and symbolized by Venus, my smelly brother.

Eva licked her lips, pausing to gulp lemon water.

Dr. Spoey locked her eyes, “Excuse me, Eva. I have a question.”

“One from all that information? I’m thinking four things right now.” Eva looked

disappointed.

“Eva, our words allow one at a time. No wonder your mind is so blurry. My

question concerns your OmniVerse?

“That my dear boy, is what I shall show you- by introducing you to my favorite

people in Ohio.”


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Chapter 1

Seamless Dreams of MPDeity

“Will this day ever end?” I lamented spending this beautiful Friday afternoon

cooped up in my suburban psychiatric practice, near the 270 loop of Columbus, Ohio.

“Stop it!” I told myself. “You love helping people through their troubles. Ignore

your mind’s restless complaints. Clear your mind and breathe to the base of your tummy.

In just an hour I’ll be reclining in my Lazy Man recliner, experiencing the miracle of

comfort. I wonder if Melinda is going to show up. She’s almost 20 minutes late”

As if on cue, the intercom crackled and Mary’s voice announced, “Dr. Spoey,

your 4 o’ clock has arrived.”

“Send her in.” The curiosity of any new patient surged through my being. A tall

blonde woman walked nervously through the doorway. I disguised my immediate

attraction with the psychiatrist bit.

“I’m guessing you are Melinda. Good to meet you. Please take a seat. ”

“Yes, yes, yes… It’s good to meet you, Doctor Spoey. I’m sorry I’m late. My ride

drives too slow for me.” Melinda sighed, slouching into the green leather chair. She

threw furtive glances at the laser clock reading 4:21 PM in red.

I smiled broadly, “Please, Melinda, call me David. To their ears, a person’s name

is the holiest sound. And don’t worry about being late. It’s been a long day. I was

enjoying the momentary break of silence, watching the squirrels, busy with acorns

outside. Are you glad it’s Friday?” Her beauty made me nervous like no patient before,


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and she had just entered the room. Melinda had called yesterday, scheduling a late

appointment. I hid my sweaty palms under my mahogany desk.

“I’ve had a long day as well- class, volleyball practice, drinking vanilla lattes, and

carrying heavy packages of dead tree layers across OSU campus.” Melinda’s speech

patterns were jagged and tense. I could feel her anxiety through the air.

“That’s my alma mater! I am a proud Buckeye. To this day I live within walking

distance of the historic Shoe.

“I love the place. I’m finishing my third year in the Strategic Communications

program at the Fisher Business School. I have started on the volleyball team since

freshman year. The volleyball scholarship worked out well, being so close to my home in

Cleveland, and not having to pay tuition.”

“Well it sounds like you are a busy Buckeye. With all the volleyball and

studying, you must not have much social time.” Staring into her green shaded iris rings, I

remembered my long nights at The Science and Engineering Library, studying Organic

Chemistry (O’ Chem), a notorious weed-out class for medical school

“I don’t really need much sleep, so I make lots of time for my friends. My friends

and family are more important than volleyball or school.” Melinda fiddled her with her

light blonde hair, which looked surprisingly natural, without any roots.

“It appears you have your goals figured out pretty well for an undergraduate. How

much sleep you get on an average night?”

“Weekend or weekday?”

“Both.”

“Umm, I’d say about 6 hours on weekends and like two hours on weekdays.”


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I assumed she was exaggerating. People with sleep issues tend to underestimate

the actual sleep they get. Many go into micro-sleeps while sitting straight up. Our brain

waves get slower and repair begins. Our brain preserves our brain during dreams, as a

screen saver sustains the display, preserving needed networks and destroying weak ones,

as we become slightly conscious of an entire unconscious dreamscape. After dreaming

during REM sleep, the brain goes into local mode, in which active neural connections fall

silent. We call this deep wave (delta) sleep. Snap out of this you nerd. David, Say

Something to her!

“Two hours! Aren’t you tired in class and practice?”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “…Almost never. Coffee helps if I ever need it. I have to

keep up my 4.0 GPA.” One could understand, in this inverted world, how a beautiful

motivated girl would expect a legal drug to enhance her ability to succeed- all her social

influence encourage enthusiasm, energy, pseudo-arrogance, spunkiness. I hoped caffeine

was the only drug she abused.

Still I assumed she was exaggerating. “So you have a perfect grade point average,

have lots of friends, start on a Division 1 volleyball team, and you can do this without

almost any sleep? Do you ever feel overstressed?”

“I’ve always been taught there is no replacement for hard work. I can hardly fall

asleep to begin with, I get many things done while others fearfully imitate death.”

“You mean sleep?”

“Yea, my mother and I both have trouble sleeping. She’s never been to a

psychiatrist. She says we have insomniac genes. Instead of sitting in bed trying every


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possible way to fall asleep, we just sit in our comfy chairs and talk until we pass out, or

Sol returns. Life is too short to spent fraternizing with the void.”

“That is very interesting. Have you ever seen a doctor for sleep issues?”

“No.” Melinda smiled warmly at me. I could feel my ear-tips blush.

“Is that why you are here today?” Sleep problems are usually treated with a

GABA agonist, some sort of depressant medicine like Ambien or Xanax- even red wine

or a cheesy turkey sandwich full of tryptophan should do the trick. I couldn’t imagine

having a problem sleeping. Sleep was a complete refuge from this mixed up world.

“Kind of. See last night I managed to fall asleep around 4:15 AM, after a long

night of barhopping. The after-effects of alcohol actually make me drowsy. Anyways,

something happened last night that hadn’t happened in years- I had a dream.”

“Do you remember it?” My self experienced epic expansive dreams each night,

pulsing with infinite landscapes, magnificent buildings, and endless conflict.

“I don’t know how well I can describe it in words.” Melinda seemed to recess

back into her mind to retrieve the memory of her dream, her conscious display freezing

like the rotator on a computer screen.

“I completely understand. In the morning, after my dreams, I can only piece

together patches of my dreams.” Usually towards the end, my consciousness activated,

and I was lucid in my self-created world. I awoke with a fading slideshow in my mind. If

I didn’t write down my dreams, I would not remember any of them. Little in real life

could compare to my bizarre dreams.

“Well I feel more that the dream seemed unlimited. My normal waking self

actually experienced the entire dream. I’m visualizing it right now.”


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“That sounds much like a lucid dream. Has it ever happened before?”

“Once, as a toddler after my father was killed by a drunk driver.” Melinda said

with a blank face.

“My God, Melinda, I am so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. He never left my mind. He is a constant inspiration to my life. He is

happy.”

“He must be very proud of such a prodigious lady as yourself.” It would be

madness to assail Melinda’s protective confidence. Her mental wall allowed her to

withstand her primal fears.

“He is.” We both paused for a second, matching eye gazes. Stop it Spoey, you

aren’t supposed to eye stick your patient! Say something!

“So can you tell me about your dream?”

“I’ll try my best.” Melinda closed her eyes and slumped an inch more into the

chair.

“I see a dark landscape filled with explosions. There is raging violence all

around me, but I am unharmed by all projectiles. I think I had popped between a free-

for-all war between armies of the East and West. My friend’s bodies are replaced with a

constant succession of familiar faces. I feel unlimited, powerful, and full of potential.

My father speaks from the blue sky, telling me I cannot change the world. He says I must

change myself. My friends are all spitting beer back into their mugs. I take off flying with

my wings. Below There are vibrant hues of light so beautiful I cannot even describe,

emanating from the canyons in the ground. Everything is alive and moving. The trees

discuss metaphysics with HelioSol, and my dog Buster swirls a glass of Chardonnay near


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a broken fence post. With their voices from heaven, in rhythmic tones, they ruminate the

mystery of existence. Suddenly the entire landscape enfolds onto itself and belches out a

fiery spinning ball of light. The light swallows me. I become part of this light sphere, but

my body becomes a zephyr of light in this glimmering ball. I don’t know how to explain

it. This light holds all things and no thing. It knows all and nothing. It is the source of all

but words cannot capture its essence. I osculate the light’s oscillations. I step back my

view expands into an infinite dimension- the light became divine nectar sprinkled with

tiny spiral children. The ball had disappeared but its seeds were everywhere. I

encountered a tiny old lady, her kind face wrinkled from smiling. I knew it was my

grandma Eva. Without speaking, she said to me, I am proud to be you. Before I could

consider her mysterious telepathy, the light sucked me in. I whirled clockwise into a dark

eddy. I blinked, for my body now rested on moist scarlet moss with grey speckles, now

surrounded by humungous blades of grass swaying in the wind. I coughed up a bit of my

blonde hair. Seeing an avian companion, I chirped and whistled my legs to the tune of

my mind, to which my new friend chirped a reply. Suddenly I felt a brush of wind and a

huge mass began to descend upon my grassy area. I hopped quickly out of danger and

onto an immense hairy quadruped, galloping above the grass. I climbed secretly to the

top of its head, and melted into its hair, merging with my mind. A rushing sound rocketed

my mind back into my human Mody. I sensed new surroundings. Now in the middle of

the Omni State Oval, I stared at the historic dome of the main library. In that moment,

God generated my Mody (mind+body). I knew I did nothing but enjoyed the ride. He was

all this. I just surfed God’s wave. I rode our bike, the cool breeze whistling through my

hair, soaking in the late afternoon sunlight. I turned left onto 15th street from 4th street,


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spotting the proud Lincoln/Morrill Twin towers on the horizon. Past the old Neil

mansion, I rode the Underground Trail to the Mirror Lake fountain. I watched the water

chaotically curve an intricate fabric, weaving itself into a twinkling pattern, reflecting the

light blue sky on the dynamic chemical flow. I knew then, that everything outside my

Mody was even more Godlike than myself. God contained all answers in one infinite

being of creation dynamically optimizing itself each instant. No Thing is Not God. And

we are proud of us.”

With that, Melinda opened her eyes and smiled warmly. I remained silent for a

minute, astonished at her dream account. However the uniqueness of her dream did not

surprise me as much as her recreation. She didn’t hesitate once- the whole tale came out

in a coherent channel. It seemed she experienced it again while describing. The

pantheistic, All-is-God, is a common theme of manic states, as patients connecting their

eunoiac OmniSelves into the universal divine web. But her pantheism required no

justification or equivocation- she just knew everything was holy. Okay, I better say

something…

I spoke, “Melinda, you have quite a mind. I must say I am greatly intrigued by

your dream.” Sheepishly I laughed at her magnetic attraction. I hope I was still disguising

it from her. Never before had I felt such passion for any patient- and Melinda had only

been in the room for 20 minutes.

“Well I must say the dream is even better in person. I finally learned the secret to

existence- God is everything! You are God! I am God! This chair is God!!” Melinda

jumped out of her chair and started pacing around, examining my book collection, family

pictures, and diplomas. I sat there perplexed at her newfound hyper-motion. Most


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patients will at least stay in one place. Oh Jesus, how am I going to defuse this bomb of

mine?

I got out of my lazy chair and approached Melinda, “You know, your dream had

quite an interesting viewpoint. You should read some stuff by Baruch Spinoza. He

believed the OmniSource sustains one substance: everything.

“Yeah but Spino’s already been flushed into God’s toilet. We are young and alive

in the eternal present, here and NOW!” Melinda yelled the last word and walked around

my mahogany desk up to my chair. She pushed my reading lamp off the table. The

halogen bulb shattered on my green carpet and sparked a toxic flame. I grabbed the fire

extinguisher, pulled the ring, and squeezed the lever. I dropped the fire extinguisher and

glared at Melinda, pleasantly stimulated by her sudden violent outburst.

Melinda smiled voraciously at me, stood up to my eye level, and flared her

nostrils.

I leaned over and shouted into the intercom, “Mary, I told you we needed LEDs!”

Then I realized I had no clue what had happened in the last 10 minutes. I knew I

had lost control over the situation. Wake up, David! This is your patient, not an electric

vixen, biting her lip, gazing into your portals.

Melinda pushed her lips onto mine, sending bolts of ecstasy spiraling to my toes.

My ear-tips sizzled. She pulled away, defiantly flicked her tongue, and skipped

mischievously out of my office. I was stunned into shock. Not ten seconds later I saw her

blue jeans disappear, as she climbed into her ultra American green SUV. It zoomed out of

our winding driveway. I didn’t even find out why she came, or even prescribe her

Ambien! I think she reversed the roles of patient and physician. My heart pounded


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against my chest. Jady, my inner child, cried at her absence. Melinda had hypnotized

him. The whole thing happened so fast I lost myself in passionate desire for Melinda. I

tried to process the shocking encounter. Not until after dinner did I recover my rational

self, fighting my inner child’s demands to search out and find Melinda, Rocking in my

recliner, I finally quieted Jady, reassuring him that Melinda would return. The best things

repeat in this cyclical life of mine. Melinda couldn’t just leave me forever, after an

entrance like that! Could She?


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Chapter 2

Passionate Violence

“Good day, David.” Mary greeted me the same each morning- with a sweet smile and a

piping hot mug of coffee cream and sugar. Mary was an old friend of my father, who

loved to work. She ran the nuts and bolts of my psychiatric practice.

“Hello Mary, good weekend?”

“Fantastic! Bob and I spontaneously drove to West Virginia for some white water

rafting!” Mary loved vigorous activity even though she was over 65 years old. I hoped

my body functions as well at that age.

“I haven’t been in rafting years.” Spoey, don’t ask about Melinda! “Say, have you

heard from Melinda? She left so quickly last Friday I didn’t get the time for a concluding

report.” Cognitive dissonance is a funny thing. I discarded four thoughts bubbling up in

that second.

“Funny you say that.” Mary looked down at the schedule. Oh no, I hope Melinda

didn’t tell her what happened! This could get ugly.

“Melinda is actually scheduled for an appointment today at 9 AM. She called

early this morning. Such a sweet lady that girl. I can’t imagine why she needs therapy.”

Boy was I glad she did! Let’s see, its 8:30 AM now. I have thirty minutes to

gather myself before she comes. I went to the restroom, tousled my brown hair, and

squished some Listerine. Finally I asked Tom if I smelled alright. He sniffed the air:

“Not half bad, but I wouldn’t get that close.”


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“Alright Tom, hit me with your best shot!” Tom sprinkled me with a bit of

cologne,

“What was that?”

“Maniac by Army”

“Okay, cool. Thanks.” Oh great, just what I need to smell like. If Melinda turned

manic without cologne, hopefully maniac Melinda wouldn’t eat my ear-tips. I tipped Tom

with paper of Abe and ventured to my office.

The clock ticked very slowly until it reached 9 AM. No sign of Melinda. Then

9:10, where was she? Maybe she was stuck in rush hour traffic fleeing the city. On cue,

a powerful crash startled me from the parking lot. I twirled open the blinds. Sure enough,

Melinda’s green SUV had wrapped around the only tree in the parking lot- hopefully she

wasn’t drunk. She hopped merrily out of the totaled vehicle, like she had just won the

lottery. This should be interesting. Starting to dial the police I hesitated- I’ll just wait

until after her appointment, doctor-patient privacy what?

Mary’s voice preceded Melinda’s entrance. I forgot about her ridiculous crash.

She wore a white tank exposing her curvy bosom surrounding her green crescent

necklace. Her lips were flushed dark red, pursed in a subtle yet defiant grin. Looking

down I noticed her leather skirt revealed her powerful athletic legs, pulsing with smooth

muscle from endless exercise. A few papers poked from the pale green Prana purse

hanging on her right arm.

“Like what you see, Dr. Spoey?”


22

Melinda held her hips and leaned back arrogantly, her neck taunting his mouth.

This girl was unbelievable. She caught me staring as soon as she walked in. Get a handle

on yourself, doctor!

“Hi Melinda. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. I feel as if I didn’t get the chance

to finish our session or prescribe you some medicine for your sleepi-“

“I don’t need any mind-numbers. I need you!” Melinda interrupted me as she sat

down in the patient chair.

“What do you mean you need me?” Do not gesture toward her. Do not lock eyes.

What was her power over my mind?

Melinda leaned close over the desk. In a strange raspy voice, she said, “I need

you to cook in my spicy stew. Ooh…Dr. Spoey, I know you want to be a part of my spicy

stew.”

Interrupting my lust with shrink thoughts for a second, I jotted a pre-dia-gnosis of

Melinda- mania with the symptoms of multiple personality disorder (MPD). Melinda’s

spirit created her own reality second by second, inside her Mody (mind + body).

Melinda sprung out of the chair and leaped onto the ground next to my bookcase.

She started bawling. “Daddy, I want my daddy! Mommy, where’s daddy? Did you take

him from me?”

In the past minute, I observed that Melinda had changed personalities three times.

I decided to bring her back to the true Melinda.

“Melinda, come back to me. You are all right. You are safe. Your Dad is proud

of you.” This triggered another change of personality. She seemed to waver in between

two forms, before sinking into the gentle Melinda I first met.


23

“Come sit in your chair, Melinda. What do you have in your bag?”

“Actually, that is what I came to talk about.”

“Of course. Can you show me some of your notes? Are they notes for school?”

“Ha!! You are silly! Of course they are not notes from school. These are my

dream notes. You see I dreamed each night this weekend: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

God used my Mody to write down part of his mind. We had a great time.”

David interjected, “Wait, I thought you said everything was God. If that is true,

how could God use your body, if he is your body?”

Melinda scoffed at my doubt. “You are quite good at criticizing, Dr. Spoey. But I

have here a creative construction of the utmost importance, and I’m going to share it with

the world tonight!”

No longer did her random shocking assertions catch me off guard. “That is

awesome, Melinda. I’m interested in what you wrote.”

“I can’t show you unless you promise to help me spread our thoughts to the

world.” What else could I say but yes?

“I can’t promise you the world will listen. People keep busy getting through each

day. Life is a mysterious struggle to swim socially.”

“Shake my hand, and promise you will help me.”

Melinda came around the desk and stuck her hand out. I shook it warmly, and felt

a tight squeeze in return. Boy this girl was something else!

“MMM, you smell good. Wait I recognize that scent, its M...”


24

The last word drowned in a pool of ferocious attack. Melinda knocked me down

and tried to rip off my shirt, kissing all over my face and neck. I had absolutely no time

to react. Melinda’s personality transition was greased lightning.

I reacted quickly, “Daddy is proud of you, Melinda.” She instantly switched,

picking herself up and running across the room. I thought she would crash into the

bookcase, but she instead took a running jump through a small stained glass window.

I smiled. Good thing we’re on the first floor.

Looking through the broken shards of stained glass, I saw a green Corvette pull

up, which Melinda jumped in. The Corvette sped off past Melinda’s tree-wrapped SUV,

releasing three sustained honks of joyful mirth.

Finally Mary rushed into the room and typed in the fire code, shutting off the

window alarm. “David, what on Earth just happened to that girl? I heard a loud boom

outside and then 2 minutes later there was all sorts of commotion from your

office…David, is that lipstick on your face. Snap out of it! It’s all over! Can you please

tell me what is going on?”

“I have never been so unprepared in my life. This girl is manic, switches

personalities at will, attacked me passionately and kissed all over my face, jumped out of

the window, and sped off in a green Corvette which was apparently waiting for her.”

Mary just laughed, “Quite an exciting session. Why don’t clean off your love

marks while I call the police.”


25

Chapter 3

Man’s Strange is Heaven’s Sense

After cleaning my face, sweeping up the broken glass, and speaking with two

skeptical policemen concerning the crash, I fell back into my soft chair, exhausted after

only an hour of work. Who knew psychiatry could be so stressful? Maybe I was the one

who needed therapy. After all, I almost gave in to the crazed rantings of a manic

Buckeye. Didn’t I learn how to control myself through umpteen years of schooling?

Doesn’t the M.D. following my name certify I am an authority on psychological health?

Yet my own mind sabotages my reason. My whining inner child still begged for

Melinda, ignoring her madness, sinking into the basin of her strange attraction, recalling

only her dynamic nonlinear progressions. I contemplated taking Valium to calm my

nerves. No you don’t need that! Calm down Spoey, the ordeal is over. Melinda is crazy,

and you couldn’t help the situation.

I collected myself, and decided this had been the wildest day of my life. In ten

minutes Melinda had crashed her SUV, walked in like a model, asked if she could cook

me in her spicy stew, threw a catatonic crying fit on my floor, sexually assaulted my face,

jumped through my stained glass windows, and sped off in a getaway Corvette. She was

either patently insane or an actress in the OmniReality Show. I was glad Melinda came, I

decided, but I am also glad she’s gone. She isn’t my patient anymore. I think she even

gave Mary a fake last name- Verde. I surmise no payment shall be forthcoming from Ms.

Verde, although she gave me enough excitement to last a month.


26

I decided to cancel my appointments and return home. Mary understood and

graciously disentangled the rest of my Monday. I wasn’t ready to converse, basically the

only requirement of a psychiatrist. At least a grimy old lady didn’t attack me. Think of

how good of a story this is. Your friends will laugh their donkeys off. Shut up, Jady!

I really need to lock up my inner child at home.

I got up from my chair and walked towards the door. I felt a tiny bug on my right

nostril edge. I wanted to itch the area profusely, with my power tools. I opened to eyes to

see the black whiskers of Verdel, my beautiful pup, half miniature pinscher and half

Manchester terrier. Then a strange tingle swept through my nostril to the core of my

being.

MANIA! Tumbling images of light balls and lush loving lips shattered my fragile

calmind; too much to handle- thrusting curvy God of mania melting into grasshoppers;

my muscles gave way and I fell to the floor and hit my head on a metal vent, temporarily

losing consciousness.

Brrrrring, Brrrrring. Brrrrring. Brrr- I awoke with a jolt.

Where am I? Brrrrrring. My cell phone is ringing. Brrr… “Hello?”

“Hi David!” It was a male voice.

“Who is this?” I was in no mood for friendly talk. My head pounded with a

migraine.

“This is News Channel 5. The Police gave us details of a mental patient escape

from your compound. Can you confirm our sources?”

“I don’t have a compound- I run a outpatient practice. Now if you will excuse

me, I am going home to rest.”


27

A loud screech halted my pressing the End button. “Daaaavid!” It was NOT male.

“Who is this really?” Maybe my day’s excitement hadn’t ended yet.

“Your lips taste like FIRE!”

No, it couldn’t be…MELINDA!!

“How did you get this number? No one has this number except my family and

friends!”

“Eva the OmniCapitalist told me.”

“Of course. Well God tells you to calm down and stop attacking me. If Jady

didn’t have a thing for you, I’d file assault and property destruction charges.”

“Who’s Jady?”

“Never mind!”

“But David, I was just having fun.”

“Well your fun came at my expense.”

“I sorry. It won’t happen again. I just needed to know for sure David Spoey is

willing to promote Eva’s plan. Eva is the OmniCapitalist, on which all existence

capitalizes for existence.”

“I’m not willing Melinda, and I really have to go. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t

call me anymore.”

I flipped the phone shut and ran out the door. I needed to get out of my office

before I went insane.

I made it halfway to my car when: Brrrring. Brrrrring. Brrrring. I’ll answer one

more time and act like the authority this time.

“What do you want Melinda?”


28

“David, we are destined to bond in spirit, mind, and body. In order for us to

connect, you must fulfill your promise to help me spread God’s plan to the world.”

“Look, I promised you that before you assaulted me and jumped out my window.

The deal is off!”

“Promise-breaker!!”

I cut her off and closed the phone. A sudden revulsion swept over my head. I

saw myself chucking my cell phone into the murky green office lake. It splashed near the

grasshopper fountain. My mind became blank.

I entered the onramp for 71 North. I got into the fast lane on the left. I wanted to

be in my recliner ASAP, and let my worries melt into Tivo. One exit away from Polaris,

in my rearview mirror I saw a green blur weaving in and out of traffic, racing closer and

closer. It was a Corvette! I must be hallucinating! The Corvette pulled parallel to me

and lowered its window.

Thank God! I saw gust one guy in the driver seat, a bald shirtless punk with 5

visible tattoos and blaring 50 Cent. Concentrate on the road, David. You are losing

control. You don’t know that guy. Focus straight ahead.

“Hello God!” The man screamed over the din of the cars.

He’s not talking to you. He’s not talking to you.

I looked over again. Melinda popped up in the Corvette’s passenger seat, waving

her arms frantically and screaming, “Pull over David.”

I ignored her and floored the pedal. My faithful Corolla had nothing on the

Corvette. It pulled parallel at about 95 mph. Melinda blew me a kiss and waved as they

zoomed past my car. The green Corvette became a green blur as it took a sharp turn


29

across an opening in the median. It shot past me the other way, going south toward the

city.

I floored the pedal, needing to escape my stunning patient.

“Woop wooop!” I pulled over. Stupid Spoey! I steadied my racing mind to talk to

the police officer.

“Officer, didn’t you see the green Corvette going over 100 mph? It just shot

across the median.”

“Aren’t you a psychiatrist?” I realized I was talking to one of the cops just who

took my report about Melinda’s scene at the office this morning.

“Yes, sir. I believe we met earlier today.” I said.

“I know, you smart-aleck shrink. I’m not stupid.”

“The Corvette was harassing me.”

“Uh huh. Sometime fishy is going on with you, Mr. Spoey.”

“Doctor Spoey, please.”

“Don’t talk back to me boy, I’m twice your age and I don’t like being lied to. Sit

tight while I write you a ticket.”

“But officer, the green Corv-“

“You may tell the judge why you were going 100.”

Grumbling madly under my breath, I almost exploded, waiting in my driver’s seat

for twenty minutes to grab my ticket. I could see the cop and his partner laughing and

pointing in my direction. Resisting the urge to do anything stupid, I took the ticket and

made it home into my chair. I slouched to 130 degrees, which a recent study showed was


30

much better for your posture than vertical sitting. I laughed about the silliness of the

day’s events.

I removed the bulge under the pillow, which turned into a remote control,

switching on the local news channel: “This is Tony Sanchez on Phox News, live on

Broad Street covering the unfolding situation at the Statehouse. Apparently, a psychotic

carerrorist has penetrated the governor’s wing, armed with an array of hair trigger

explosives. Negotiators are currently, um, negotiating with the terrorist, reportedly an

delicious American female.”

No, it couldn’t be. No Phing way. Not again.

“Let’s see if we can get a video on the situation.”

The station switched to a camera inside a room in the Statehouse, where Melinda

stood stationary in the middle of frantic motion, intensely grinning like a kid on

Christmas.

Nancy grinned warmly, “What are her demands, Tony?”

“She claims to have in her purse the typed will of Eva the OmniCapitalist-

dictated to her in four successive dreams. She repeats her only demand- Dr. David Spoey,

her psychiatrist, to help spread the will of the OmniCapitalist throughout the world.”

The co-anchor Nancy fluttered her eyelashes: “Tony, does she realize it is evil to

claim that the great God justifies carerrorism?”

Tony scowled “We have repeatedly stressed this to her. She will not respond to

anyone but Governor Daft.”

I watched myself hurl the remote at the television, shattering its display into a

million crystals.


31

“This is the most realistically disturbing dream I’ve ever had,” I thought- much

more realistic than Melinda’s pantheistic dream.

Riiiing. Riiiing. Riiiing. House Phone. Before it could ring again, I shattered the

wall jack with his fist, effectively ending the phone attack.

I had little time for peace before the cultural vultures knocked down his door for

the pretty carerrorist. I went upstairs and passed out in his waterbed. Returning to the

peace of sleep cured all worries. If death is the cousin of sleep, I can’t wait for my

funeral.”


32

Chapter 4

Divine Momentum

“BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.”

“Dr. Spoey, are you in there? The governor needs your help.”

“Governor Daft and manic Melinda may suck an egg.”

“We’re breaking down the door David.”

“Please do not.”

The door shattered and three SWAT members bust in with automatic weapons

drawn, followed by a dark skinned detective.

“Dr. Spoey, your presence is required as a matter of national security. Your

refusal to come with us futile, and will only result in a prison term.”

Never one to disobey those with guns; I walked with the men and climbed into

their black minivan. We stopped downtown at the Statehouse on Broad Street. I walked

straight into the front room, where the news image duplicated itself in reality. Melinda

beamed with gratitude at my entrance, running over to sit Indian style at my feet. I could

not yet look at her, furious at her for disturbing his peace of mind.

Governor Daft walked to my side, opposite to Melinda. “Thank you for coming,

David. This is a delicate matter considering Melinda’s mental health. We are willing to

submit to her reasonable demands in order to prevent tragedy. We hope you can help us

through this.”

David, try to remember this man deserves your respect. “I’ll do my best. What

exactly does she want?”


33

“Melinda wants to broadcast God’s will live on television nationwide. She

believes she can save the world with her words. She thinks God is an OmniCapitalist

named Eva. I’m confused myself.” Governor Daft’s face looked painfully twisted.

Half sarcastically I mimicked, “Are you prepared to disrupt regularly scheduled

programming for something like this?”

“Well, we spoke to the advertisers and made clear our situation. It should only

cost the state $10 million to cover the lost advertising time. We cannot afford to lose the

Statehouse to carerrorism. It will show Ohio is ill prepared and insecure. The public

would rage that a blonde bombshell destroyed our state building. The rare stamp auction

has already damaged my chances for reelection.”

I cared more for raw liver than state politics. “Okay, so what do you need me

for?”

Governor Daft paused and whispered to his aide. “Melinda wants you to read

God’s Will live on cable.”

“No way.”

“David, please reconsider. The state is willing to reimburse you for your time,

and give you a huge gold plaque in this very room, provided it still stands tomorrow.”

David thought to himself. He realized he had little, if any choice. The guys with

guns were here again. Might as well go quietly, and hopefully stop this dream’s descent

into madness. I could be an international hero tomorrow when I wake up. I wish I had

Eva’s confidence about the OmniReason. I diagnosed myself with analysis paralysis.

“First of all, why me?”


34

“Melinda wants you to read it because God told her to have you read it. She said

you would do a better job of conveying the truth of God’s will.”

Great.

“Fine, I will read it, but only if I may speak freely before and afterwards to the

nation, so people know I am anti-carerrorism.”

“That’s fine with me. Okay Melinda?”

Melinda jumped to her feet. “Ooooh! David I love you! I knew you weren’t a

promise breaker. The broadcast must start at 4:20 PM, and shall end at 9:11 PM.”

“Whatever. Just let me reset my brain first.”

“Of course, Dr. Spoey. You should rest.” Melinda smiled gleefully, her carerrorist

plan working to the t. The Governor’s aides took me to a nearby room with a small cot,

which couldn’t compare to my waterbed. It did the trick. Out cold I went, with NO

dreams until three PM, when Melinda’s yelps shook me back to consciousness. I ran into

the front room. An assorted group of fifty people surrounded Melinda as she pranced

around the room in her explosive white suit, which at the moment seemed quite

insensitive, opposed to the hair trigger the news said she possessed. Melinda had

captivated this crowd with her OmniDynamic mood patterns, unbelievable physical

attractiveness, and contagious smile. I no longer pitied my willpower, as everyone else

seemed just as vulnerable to her wicked charms. I wondered just how many explosives

she wielded.

Taking a closer look at Melinda’s appearance, I saw explosives strapped to her

body in five places- ankles, thighs, and chest. She still carried her bulging green Prana


35

purse. The combination of destructive carerror and sex objects thrilled even the most

mundane American, myself included.

Now I wanted attention from this carerrorist vixen. I yelled out. “Melinda, is your

last name really Verde?”

Melinda stopped her show and skipped over to me. “Of course, Silly Spoey.

Why would I lie to my favorite person in the whole world?”

I couldn’t respond. I just nodded my head, took a deep breath and laughed.

Maybe that is the only thing I can do during this marvelously unnerving experience. As

one voluptuously manic mental patient puppets the entire Statehouse, I again confirm

Reality stranger than fiction.

A television crew burst in a back door and set up shop near a fireplace in the

spacious front room. The producer, a tall dark haired Italian, started firing off orders to

his minions. They placed two violet velvet chairs in front of the fireplace- one of

Melinda’s numerous demands. By the time they completed their preparation for

broadcasting, the grandfather clock struck 3:30 PM.

At that time the Governor had assembled an impromptu press conference on the

Statehouse steps. Everyone in the front room sat quiet while we listened to the

microphone amplify his words, watching Governor Daft on the front room television

brief the press on the situation. Throngs of reporters waited impatiently for their turn to

talk.

“Now I’m going to open up the floor for questions.” Governor Daft said.


36

Tony from Phox News here, “President Kush has repeatedly stated that the United

States does not negotiate with carerrorists. By broadcasting the green angel’s words over

the airwaves, aren’t you giving into her demands and encouraging further carerrorists?”

“The OmniState of Ohio feels the best way to mollify the situation is by

cooperating with her requests. The New York Times even printed the Unabomber’s

manifesto before he was brought to justice. Melinda has not hurt anyone yet. Make no

mistake- the green angel shall be brought to justice without any use of violence. Our

staff has deliberated our options. Considering her mental health, we do not think that is

prudent to employ violence.”

“Melinda’s only demand is that David Spoey read the manuscript containing the

channeled will of God. Please note that her psychiatrist- Dr. David Spoey- has diagnosed

her with Multiple Personality Disorder.” I didn’t remember telling anyone that- although

it was now painfully obvious. They must have called and asked Mary. Doctor-patient

privacy couldn’t compare with national security.

One of the reporters shouted, “What God does Melinda recognize? Does she

actually pretend know the truth?”

Governor Daft said, “Melinda believes everything is one God. She believes God

is an OmniCapitalist named Eva.”

This mysterious answer pumped the press. I grabbed the microphone and spoke,

“Melinda has metaphysical issues we will address at a later date. After today’s situation

is resolved, she will receive the finest care, so she may be cured of her carerrorist

disease.”


37

Thirty reporters raised their hands to ask the next question. Governor Daft

looked exhausted. He ignored them and continued, “The whole nation will see Melinda

soon enough. No need to give her any more attention than her chosen television time. At

a quarter after nine, she will receive her night of fame- and then we shall save herself

from her OmniSelf. She owes no allegiance to any known carerrorist groups like Al

Kayta. Melinda is a lone ranger, driven to violent means by mental instability. Now if

you will excuse me, I must prepare for the broadcast.”

A reporter from FOX news yelled above the commotion, “Governor Daft, the

nation wants to know more about the green angel of Columbus. The stations are

disrupting paid programming from 4 PM to 10 PM tonight- that’s an awful lot of

advertising revenue.”

The Governor returned to the microphone, “Honestly, I am convinced by a

strange passion in her eyes heart of hearts to give her a chance. Who knows, this just

might be the kick in the pants America needs.” Daft then disappeared from the screen

and came in to greet those in the front room.

“Okay people, I want everything tested and ready to go at 4 PM on the dot, so Dr.

Spoey can introduce himself before he reads Melinda’s OmniCapitalist Manifesto.”

Not in a million years did Governor Daft expect to be a part of such an insane

situation. But he didn’t want it to end in violence. Melinda was irrepressibly gorgeous.

I sat down in the green chair and checked my watch. It read 3:58 PM. Two

minutes until show time. I felt extremely calm considering my lack of television

experience. Presumably my previous encounters with Melinda had enhanced by stress

tolerance. Okay, time for some deep breaths.


38

The Italian producer yelled for quiet. “Dr. Spoey, you are on in five, four, three,

two, one, and ACTION!”

Melinda squealed with delight.

And so it began, “Hello to all those watching. I am Dr. David Spoey. I woke up

this morning expecting a normal day at my psychiatric office- now I am being

blackmailed into reading the dreams of my patient Melinda. I am certain this situation

will be resolved after her requests are met, and Melinda will get the help she needs. I

hope the audience does not associate myself with Melinda’s words- for she demanded I

read each and every word she has typed. You see, she believes Eva came to her in a

dream, using her hands to type his Will, which apparently sHeIaM wanted my voice box

to vibrate it to the world. It is true in today’s world you need either money or carerrorist

tragedy to capture media attention, but we should ask ourselves to withhold all judgment

until I read the full OmniCapitalist Manifesto, as she calls it, for she has not let anyone

read the papers- and there is always the outside chance that she really did talk to God.”

You didn’t just say that. Spoey, do you actually believe Melinda? Who was this girl?

“And now, before I read the prologue, Melinda wants to say a few words from the

heart.”

This should be interesting.

By now the tuned in world new of Melinda as the Green Angel for her green

velvet skirt, piercing green eyes, and jade crescent pendant hanging from her neck. If she

wasn’t headed straight to the asylum, she could have her own reality television show in

Celebmerica.


39

Melinda grabbed the microphone, “David Spoey may add his own comments, but

he must read each word as Willed by Eva through my fingers. I hope he does indeed

allow Eva to speak from his heart. I am not the original creator. I only rearrange, as I

must. I am only one holographic medium through which sHeIaM speaks. My writings are

titled “The OmniCapitalist Manifesto,” because Eva wants us to solve the world’s

problems through OmniPreneurship.

OmniJective business is the highest pursuit of human kind. Commerce is a

combination of objective scientific knowledge and subjective artistic skill. PsiArs

(Business) creates value for subjective experience through the potential of objective

knowledge. The only business is transport of InfoMassErgy, the DruPhoo stuff of which

the world is made. Our economy is getting the right thing at the right place and time. We

are spiritual techno-spirits, not materialistic techno-monkeys. We will save the world

through optimized transfer protocols (OPM). People know its all about logistics and

communication. In The OmniCapitalist, Eva mocks our tragic attempts at mastering the

plane of reality, and offers some suggestions. The first suggestion she offers: every path

of important transport should be secure and one-way. There should be no intersections of

people, bicycles, and steel trucks. The second suggestion she offers is Look Up, not

below. Know this, I am no prophet. I am a criminal carerrorist and I belong in jail. Yet

I’ve experienced too much pain not to speak out for OmniCapitalism.”

Know this, you are God, and so are all of you! Deep down you all know this, even

if you refuse to believe it. Read Psalms 82:6 if you are Christian. All you Sufis and

Kabala Wizards know that we are all children of the most High.”


40

Melinda then sat down in the green chair next to mine, smiling intently into the

television. I realized you couldn’t argue with her pantheism- if God contained

everything, then one couldn’t be outside of sHeIaM. Nothing is not God. Wait a minute,

Spoey, don’t buy this sludge.”

Melinda handed me her stapled stack of papers. It felt about forty pages thick. At

least it was double-spaced. I took a deep breath…


41

Chapter 5

Personifying Ourselves

“After I had described my lucid dream experiences each of the four nights, I

reflected on what I had learned, and formulated an introduction to capture the essence of

my experience- so that all of you carerrorist-haters don’t shoot me. I love America and its

freedoms. America will usher in the reign of amazing global InfoMassErgy transport

networks. This document really aims to blow your mind, to show you the secret

possibilities, and to shock you into authentic thought, to push you to your intellectual

limits. I do not mind going to prison for carerrorism, if it means lighting a thousand

hearts.” Eva spoke in esoteric tongues. I felt so strange reciting the words of Melinda the

ventriloquist.

Eva’s intention is simple. She uses me only to spread love through the flow of

good information through the global human brain, called the Globrain. The Gorganism-

the global human organism- develops as a fetus in Earth’s uterus. The Globrain is the

neural control system of the Gorganism, organizing InfoMassErgic flows. The

Gorganism is developing its vascular system to transport PIME. The Gorganism is

developing its immune system for secure PIME transport. The Gorganism grows

controlled by the Globrain. Through destroying the power of Theo-dictators, and

establishing a reign of beautiful transport, Eva decided to put an end to those people who

don’t believe in a personal God. Once the Gorganism has optimized its InfoMassErgy

networks, the Globrain will have the power to colonize the Moon and Mars. Then the

Gorganism will have reached Type 1 Civilization status on the Kardashev scale. You


42

might scoff. But Eva made all this, including your all-important self. Yet you don’t think

she tune in to tiny techno-sapiens? Open your Mind to find Her. Awake from your

Slumber to feel Her. Annihilate nothing blocking Truthful Love for Her.

The following text is intended to be simple, so that all may understand its

optimistic essence. We will not delve into divisive political, religious, or philosophical

debates. I will delegate deconstruction, criticism, and blame for another man. At this

point, constructive imagination saves us, not hate and fear. My purpose in this textual

carerrorism is to spread good information. The Internet marks the beginning of a true

global brain strengthening the superpower of the people. All is open to everyone with

education, motivation, and a shower. My duty is assist the integration of Earth’s

competing entities toward cooperative business ventures, to optimize transfer protocols

into the cosmos.

Today we will discover what Is, and what Could be. Hopefully, as you read or

hear these words in the presently eternal HERE and NOW, you are inspired with hope

and goodwill towards the future. Hopefully you begin to realize where the heart of your

sol lies: a chaotic, constrained, yet utterly free being of great potential. Eva is the

OmniOrder recreating our universal superstructure. Eva represents the moderate balance

between the two extremes of her nondual OmniContinua: 0/1; On/Off;

Positive/Negative; Good/Evil; Light/Dark; Hot/Cold; Love/Apathy; Hope/Insult,

Life/Death; Continuous/Discrete; Cause/Respect; Passion/Detachment; Wave/Particle;

Nature/Nurture; Science/Religion; Entopy/Extropy; Male/Female; Mind/Matter;

Self/Other. There are more dualities in the world than we can discuss. I’m sure you can


43

think of more continua. The important part is to realize each individual OmniSelf

contains the whole of each continuum: love to hate, hope to fear, male to female, etc. Our

free CHOICE is what we elect to manifest. Evil is a choice. Good is a choice. We are

free moral agents, hindered only by the chains of time.

The purpose of reality is value fulfillment- striving towards virtues: wisdom,

truth, meaning, purpose, confidence, justice, kindness, contentment, perseverance, trust,

focus, funny commercials, concentration, passion, creativity, humor, intelligence, beauty,

design, structure, happiness, consciousness, forgiveness, abundance, imagination, charity,

hope, probably, skipped, to, here, sincerity, generosity, and the power of love. By

enhancing virtue, one strikes at the root of evil, for evil only exists as the absence of

goodness- as coldness only exists as the lack of heat energy. Shine a light on a shadow

and it is no more. Yet it is not always enough to ignore evil. Sometimes you must stamp

out evil with fire or ice, but one’s method is the essence- stooping to fight on its level is

unwise. Do not play by the rules of evil, or you will get burned. Remember that the

ultimate nature of each baby brought into the world is good. Children have no worries

and want only to live happily. Corrosive culture creates feral children. Good societal

institutions produce aces of virtue.

.

Each human experiences existence through OmniSelf. We carry around the

physical universe on our shoulders, and worship our minds. As subjective agents of truth,

we cultivate interactive relationships inside our bodies and in our environmental SET, the

Egyptian god of darkness. Attempting to find the light of the horizon, we navigate


44

through the objective absolute world through our subjective relative experience. Our

subjective minds creatively hallucinate the objective world. Placebo ergo sum.

If you don’t want to see a Giant Sequoia, you may close you eyes, and it shall

disappear from your retinal screen. You might even pretend are alive, if it falls on your

roof, during a midnight storm. The world doesn’t turn into a crazy dream during sleep,

even though you experience lucid adventures in the unconscious ocean of epic slumber.

You can be sure the Earth is round, even though it might appear flat. You can be sure the

Earth orbits around the Sun, even though it might seem the opposite. You can be sure the

Sun is 93,000,000 miles away, even though it appears to touch the planes in the sky. It is

often in our interest to approach the absolute truth of objective existence with the relative

OmniSelf reality of subjective brain experience. This approach we shall call

Sobjectivism- pushing subjectivity toward the wall of objectivity, towards the faraway

goal of OmniJectivism. If there is anything history has taught, it has been that the illusion

of knowledge stands in the way of knowledge, and that the future laughs at the past era’s

insistence of arriving at the pinnacle of knowledge and accomplishment. Witness the

future’s mirth at the present’s pity of the more distant past. Pardon me, dear reader, for I

digress from simplicity.

Here are premises to assist your journey through our pursuit of Sobjectivism. I

promise they will make more sense as you advance toward the end.

One: All is One. Omnia ab uno. We are always connected to the One. sHeIaM is loving

benevolent energy pulsing creative potential. The only stability is good change.


45

Two: The universe is an infinite optimizing InfoMassErgy processing through self-

organizing oscillating potentials, evolving towards increasing power and intelligence.

Three: Each living being creates its own reality through personifying itself and The

Other on different levels, dimensions, scales, locations, and times. Reality consists of

Energetic Material and Intelligent Information flowing in a four-dimensional nature

(three space and one TIME). Capturing reality on a flat screen saps its authenticity, as

reality changes on at least four dimensions.

Five: Nothing is Not God. You cannot escape God. You might make a pseudo-vacuum of

evil inside God, but we can never attain absolute cold or ultimate hate. Love is merely the

absence of hate. Warmth is merely the absence of Cold. Light is merely the absence of

dark. Good is merely the absence of evil. We cannot destroy the universe, but it will

destroy us. Humans create evil after experiencing suffering and frustration. A thought-

form, evil has no force alone. It must rely on carriers for destruction. All is God is Good,

no matter what techno-sapiens might try.

Six: We live in an infinitely abundant universe. The OmniCapitalist smiles as we slowly

develop new ways to borrow more power from Eva’s OmniSource.

Seven: When you drop the pretenses, and realize our similarities on the most fundamental

levels, our physical and spiritual needs: InfoMassErgy for our bodies, clean air, pure

water, nutritious food, waste management, security shelter layers, SPORT, social love,

sleep, and social technology for our minds.

Finally, before we delve into what IS, and what SHOULD be, we must turn our

attention to the nature of language, this medium in which we think, speak, and write.


46

Words are ideas (memes) shared by people, connected into a logical framework by

grammar and syntax. We conquer the universe through metaphor. Yet words are

impotent if not followed by purposeful action. Written and spoken language are great

communication mediums, like artworks, body language, images, gifts, emails, blogs, web

sites, videos, photographs, hand signals, music, gardens, buildings, symbols, etc. You can

find truth in anything- songs, seas, essays, trees, gossip, the Bible/Koran/Torah, silence,

everything is true. It depends upon what you see, not what you look at. The termites stay

busy too. We live in an age of communication, of competing information levels.

Apparently my data is sticky enough for you to press on this far- I am eternally grateful

and hope you continue. I have hope that we will continue working together to bring good

information.

People reading OmniCapitalist Manifesto can help us refine its language so its

hope may reach even more people across the globe. I am only one person, just like you. I

am busy and stressed, just like you. The interactions of three hundred million busy

individuals comprise our American nation. Our Earth beholds heady 7,000,000,000

humans, alive and kicking- a world without strangers with their Universal Translators.

Everyone always told me; you will never change the world. Settle for a cushy CEO job

or become a doctor like your father. Well, I’m changing your world by writing this

sentence, you are changing your mind by thinking about changing the world. The fact is,

the only constant IS change. You cannot HELP changing yourself and the world. Not

everyone is called to be a hero. But everyone changes the world merely by existing.

Realizing the constancy of change may help you subtly overcome any obstacle in your

life- flowing with the current rather than drowning under the weight of your mental


47

chains. Learn to love your mind’s quirks, your passions, your eccentricity- be proud of

what sets you apart. If life is mostly froth and bubble, two things stand out: unyielding

kindness in another’s troubles and indomitable bravery toward your own.

Having read the first three introductory pages without pause, I stopped and gazed

into the camera. I motioned to the producer for a commercial break. I didn’t know how

many people I had spoken to- but I was sure the number was over a million. I’ll probably

be infamous when I wake up tomorrow, without doing anything. The Media will paint me

as a carerrorist supporter, even though I’d rather fill cavities than read Melinda’s

manuscript on television. Now I know how Paris Hilton feels! It isn’t so bad, and

fortunately Melinda’s writings were actually quite sane- although quite abstract and

wishy-washy. Her writings sounded like the typical ‘All is One’ theme. If she really

wanted to infect the world with her positive virus, she had to keep it simple, because her

message was blurred amidst her flowery language. No, the world is ultimately utilitarian.

People care about benefits to their loves. Value is measured in commodities and

distributed through specialized spectacles. Time is Money. Poets and artists are poor until

they die, dying to create something new. Then time-binding businessmen buy their

timeless works. The rich shall be rich and the poor shall be poor- that is as old as

stratified society. We must spend no time lamenting a fact of life. We shall live and die

with our leaders. Money is a form of social memory. Money remembers and leverages

space, energy, time, and work.

I took a drink of white grape juice. My mouth loved its sweet moisture blanket.

A thought flickered through my mind. Maybe I should use this carerrorist scum to

propose Spodeas. After all, Melinda did say I could talk as long as I also read her words


48

verbatim. Let me wait until I finish reading- I want to find out what she says and get it

over with so I may return to the refuge of sleep.

“You ready, Dr. Spoey?”

“Now I am.”

“Alright, three, two, one, and ACTION!”

I turned the page and began reading.

“A wise man once said, ‘Use what is dominant in a culture to change it most

quickly.’ I employ television’s dominance for Eva’s carerrorism. But I have no interest in

forcing you to listen. In fact, please close your minds- you will only be left behind. Take

this opportunity now, to turn off the television. Play in your parks, argue about the

Republicrats, cuddle with your loves, learn to cook, toss some corn-hole, read to your

children, anything to postpone actual productive thought. I dare you to ignore the positive

potential of OmniCapitalism. Tomorrow the newspapers will be busting at the seams with

the optimistic hope in Eva’s Will. Throw them away. I cannot teach a woMan anything,

only help them find it within themselves. I cannot sell you anything. You must sell

yourself on my suggestion. It is impossible to wake a man pretending to be asleep. Keep

dreaming, children, while society exponentially transcends itself, manifesting a

sustainable OmniMarket is only the beginning. OmniCapitalism is a warm comforting

blanket. If you don’t need its sustenance to survive, by all means, ignore my creation,

burn my words, and go on your merry way. This information is free, unlike your time.


49

A few closing words to begin. There is infinite truth and energy surrounding you.

A unified plurality. I ask you to put aside all assumptions and You create the meaning.

You can choose to create evil or goodness.


50

Chapter 6

All just a Dream

Brrrrrrrrrrring. The blaring alarm replaced my blurry dreamscape before I smashed

the snooze button. My mind accelerated into waking consciousness. Another morning,

another day, another night-set spent sewn in time’s fabric. Blurry remnants of my

strange dream lingered, of myself talking to a grandmother type lady at Tri Valley. I

tried to piece together some sense of the fast fading memories, with depressing results.

Why can’t I TiVo my dreams, schedule them for re-runs? What was her name?

Most importantly, what did she say? I had the feeling I had forgotten an essential

experience. The snooze switched on, destroying my inward concentration, and I looked

at the time: 4:20 AM. Time to start the early morning spo-ritual.

I lived for my early morning spo-ritual, starting at 4 hundred hours when the alarm

first rang, allowing for 20 minutes of light dreaming snooze, hopping out of bed at 4:20

AM, saying thanks to God for allowing his truth to remain alive in my Mody for another

day, sending my well-wishes to my family and friends across the globe. I prayed that I

might bring only goodness and truth to the world. “Mody” is my term for my integrated

mind and body- a full human being, as a human without a mind is an animal, and a

human without a body is merely the mind of God.

I relished changing for my early morning run, putting on New Balance running

shoes and comfortable sport socks, and leaving my bedroom with my best friend, my dog

Verdel, half miniature pinscher and Manchester terrier. He has been in my life since I

rescued him from the State Pound two years ago.


51

I grab a biopolymer glass from the cupboard. I twirl the glass to watch the crystal

twinkles. Into the glass I pour a glass of Brita filtered water, and sprinkle lemon squirts

into the cold clear liquid. I hungrily gulp down the life-giving molecular liquid, my throat

imitating Verdel’s slurping tongue. I look forward to seeing the sunrise on the Olentangy

River Trail, known throughout Columbus for the raw beauty of its diverse settings,

containing plenty of parks where Verdel and his canine friends play. I expect my mind to

match the stillness of the early morning air. Most people think luna-tics wake up this

early to suck moonlight crumbs. But I need a good warm up for my Mody, or else I am

blurry all day long. I need to get to a good start to make it through my day-job. Verdel

the Stretch Master resembles a deer.

I leave the door of my house with eyes crisp to the chilly dark world, and jog down

my driveway and merrily on the sidewalks along Indianola Road, towards High Street,

the main road of The Ohio State University campus. What OSU campus lacked in

sustained idyllic beauty it trumped with concentrated diversity. Verdel tugs at the least,

basically strangling himself, the long nails of his brown paws scrape against the concrete.

Stop This!

I knew I shouldn’t have volunteered for the summer tour guide job. I need to stop

acting like an Ohio State promoter already. Run better spent you sing the time to imagine

the fate of the tiny sweat about to merge with my eye. Here it rolls, salt into eye, always a

good time for all parties involved. I have reached Pearl Street, the spooky alley along

High Street. Glass shards covered the ground with streetlight reflections. I smiled as I

spotted La Bamba. A man in a muddy trench coat emerged from behind a green

dumpster, and bolted towards me, I thought his terror-twisted face complemented his


52

flailing arms.

A wave of unfamiliar fear engulfed my body before I regained my running

composure and turned to face the man.

In royal tones, he broadcast in my general direction:

I am the monarch. You are a drone. I will squash you. I own you. I had the distinct

feeling he wasn’t talking to me. Instead the endless voices of his skull enslaved him. The

muddy man sat down Indian style in a puddle, muttering to himself.

Suddenly Verdel stopped licking a tuft of grass and jumped on the man, begging for

a treat or at least a French kiss. If the stranger got close enough to Verdel’s mouth, he

would get a taste of the poop factory. I could tell Verdel liked the muddy man, because

he sat on his face. The man only muttered nonsense with his eyes bugged out. The man

convulsed and Verdel yelped, scampering back to my side. At least Verdel’s love barrage

had distracted the manic utterances, for a bit.

As I untangled Verdel’s leash, I looked at the muddy man, and I thought, “He is

just another Mody imprisoned in his emotional hologram.”

Is there no end to the mystery of everyday living?

After my short time on this enigmatic earth, there remained two huge questions in

my mind: Why? and How?

The only answers I can believe: because we can, and by all means possible. The

fractal shaman patients lacked stable self-identification. Yet their individual selves paid

my salary through the State, which paid me to chip away at their insanity at Tri Valley

Behavioral Health Care. The state also gave me a check to educate undergraduates about

the destructive properties of mental disorders, at Ohio State. I led them away from social


53

states of mental illness, teaching them the danger of long sentences, and the strategic

importance of simple communication.

The beggar’s voice continued on, his car had run out of gas, he was hungry, the

excuses piled out, but the end purpose was predictable from a man living on the

OmniCapitalist streets: “Can I have some money?”

I pulled out my empty pockets and ran off.

Annoyed the panhandler upset my Sport-flow, I resumed my daily spo-ritual,

sprinting across High Street into the security of Ohio State campus. I grokked the Wexner

art school, an exquisite art forum courtesy of a great man, I reflected on the eventual

essence of architecture and life in general, wisely wasting space. Simplicity, clarity, and

persistence won the day for Mr. Wexner. Fulfilling the American dream, fate it would

seem. Yet fate relies on actions in the here and eternally present Now. Every instant four

thought branches crossed my mind easel, each unique in its form, source, and motivation.

My true self filtered the best residue for each moment. No, don’t run in front of the cars.

No, don’t jump on the garbage can. Impulses were easy to control for me. I couldn’t say

the same thing for Melinda or Eva.

I realize most would sooner perish than think. My daily reality consisted of tricking

myself and communicating with the world. There’s nothing better to do than probe the

depths of the Mind-Universe-God MUGooniverse created by your OmniSelf. Your spirit

worships God, your Body worships the mind, and the Mind worships the Universe. Hello

Trinity.

As I passed the Ohio State Medical School towards the Olentangy Trail, a thousand

crystalline light shimmers reflected ever-changing fractal patterns on the Olentangy


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River. The light energy- Phonergy from Hydrogen fused into Helium by HelioSol. We

live and die embedded its his fiery sphere, who is the most powerful entity in our solar

system. We fly in a Goldi-Lox orbit, bathed with just the right amount of energy, shielded

from the UV photons by our planet’s atmospheric clothes, I could not make this story up

if I tried. These enigmas are way above my comprehension. The bombardment of

Phonergy onto the Earth produced bubbles of potential energy, producing extropy

looking for a problem. The Phonergy catalyzed a burst of metaphysical restlessness for

the unfolding drama of biological evolution. Solar Power On Every Thing became the cry

of life, simple as it started.

My flesh rotated around this ball of fire. Stories remembered of the ancient fusion

reactor and me, another daylong rotisserie, radiating 10^27 Watts into space every

second. As the sun deposits its solar radiation upon our womb the planet Earth, we gain

the energy to continue life. Life is solar dependent, period. Even us techno-sapiens are

dependent on oil, coal, and other hydrocarbon biomass, which all are forms of

concentrated solar energy, produced in the past and preserved by being buried by

geological systems. Zillions of living organisms worked together to collect the energy of

HelioSol, so us techno-sapiens could turn it into our industrial energy spree. We require

HelioSol to radiate his energy from fusion reactions in its core, to impart some of the

released energy as holes of entropy replicating themselves through virtual photons onto

our earthly stage. The three main energetic sources used by humans: Sun, Earth, and

Moon.

One game, two teams with three main players, the holy divine trinity competed in

every context. The producer, processor, and consumer. The generator, operator, and


55

destroyer. The father sun and holy spirit. The body mind and spiritual soul. The id ego

and superego. UpDown ForwardBack RightLeft. Past Present Phuture. Reason Spirit

Desire. Energy Space Time. Plants Animals Humans. Art Science PsiArs. Triangulating

truth through throbbing theories.

Presently, the sun gives us over 10,000 times more energy than needed for the

global economy. We are on the wave of a fossil fuel binge, and its great, living in a pool

of petroleum plastics and quadrillions of virtual dollars. This empire will last forever, and

extend its conscious might to the end of the universe. We might as well enjoy the reserve

status of the dollar, which allows Americans to consume the lion’s share of the world’s

resources. I thank the political gods each day they extend this amazing American empire,

like every other empire before it. Why should I wallow in despair or create something

new? What hope exists to illustrate new avenues, or God forbid a cohesive integrated

picture of the reality coordinated through an alliance of benevolent beings. Everything

old-be-nu starts from imagination, the re-creative process of God’s mind enforces the

Power of God.

I do nothing- I have only a billion heartbeats to elect pervasive productive patterns

of my unified Mody. But I don’t create my proteins, I don’t create my body, I just

sustain it, as I any machine. My mind has been created through my past experiences, and

I always exist on the cliff of the future, choosing between two forms. We look backwards

but act forwards. I need more precise metaphors to represent my holographic OmniSelf.

The simultaneously spiritual OmniReality is hard to communicate, especially in coercive

language constrained by the dead past, relative to the future processes powered by solar

photons. Everything happens in the Future.


56

Good Gracious. The faint light of the Sun became a bright sunrise, captivating my

gaze. I marveled at the gigantic self-sustaining nuclear reactor almost a hundred million

miles away from my eyes. The hugeness of the situation communicated awareness of the

tulip blooms nestled on an adjacent slope. Fresh manure molecules touched my olfactory

nerve balloon and triggered memorial associations of striking smells of an American road

trip- the distant but distinct odor of a skunk’s attack; wavy plumes of hydro smoke

fumes; burning leaf piles in the country. Universally unique, a road trip across the

carbohydrate fields of America showed the true character of a person. The ability to sing

loud, be a courteous safe driver of passion, connect three hour thought trails to a higher

level of wisdom, practice foreign languages with your friends or your OmniPDA. The

road trip demonstrated an inability to tired of remembering of your wonderful ever-

emerging self. You can’t stop time, and you can’t stop two Columbus boys from reaching

Miami.

I loved myself because I was on great terms with myself. I worked every day under

the dynamic ideals of clarity, beneficence, and ethical efficiency. Cheesy thoughts should

remain unwritten. My true self was my Mody integrated through the experience of my

mind and body, into my nondual Modal self. Materialistic scientists are correct in

breaking down our bodies to smaller bits of physical information- complex organizations

of matter and energy, as organ systems, tissues, cells, mitochondria, microtubules,

proteins, fats, nucleic acids, sugars, and molecules. Our Mody works down to the

smallest DruFoos, like quarks, phonons, electrons, and photons. I laugh as the theory of

eliminative materialism denies its creator- the very Spirit/Consciousness/Mind that

creates it. So far, the champion in complexity and performance is the wrinkled grey Jell-


57

O mold called the humble human brain, composed of 100,000,000,000 cells, 87% glial

memory/support cells and 13% neuronal revolvers. We think through the brain, protected

by the skeleton, with the best system neural evolution has to offer. I am a spongy mirror

to this OmniDelic world. I am a receiver, processor, and always sending in form may

which some may shun. But I brush off my knees and persist, as pressing on solves all

problems except unoriginality and plagiarism. When you surrender yourself to original

thought, when you allow Eva’s universal truths to manifest in co-creative self-

organization, you may channel your mind to the greenest pastures. Collect what matters

and move on. Several attempts offer a wealth of experience from which you may

triangulate truth. I am still here, vibrating, absorbing active oxygen from the air,

enveloped with passive nitrogen.

The upcoming waterfall intruded into the early morning summer Sunday calm. As I

approached the foyer overlooking the tiny concrete drop, I noticed a large black spider on

the ground and bent down to inspect it at a reasonable distance…

Ugghh!

A mosquito flew away from a red dot on my hand. I swear mosquitoes are the main

reason I can’t buy the theory that God created all species on this planet for a purpose. I

can’t imagine that mosquitoes do any good. Maybe they are here to annoy humans into

moving around and staying fit. Wow, that was sad. It seems my mind has nothing better

to do than activate itself by shuttling around virtual categories, achieving novelty at best.

If I could build a thought preditor, you wouldn’t have to listen to this surging nonsense,

as I combine and create words. My apologies. On second hand, why in the kind world are

you still reading this ancient text? These words are just random black splotches on a


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virgin canvas. Why waste time reading old news when you are living in a dream

automatically making news? My ideas flow into activity. The entire point of my work is

to increase good information. I’m not trying to hypnotize you, with the one ring to rule

them, one thought to bind them. I apologize if you can’t understand my language. We are

literally rich to read together. Don’t limit yourself. Don’t get mad you don’t understand

me. You aren’t meant to.

Verdel tugs at his black leash. The sub-par thought train had severely slowed my

pace. I better show that mangy mutt who is boss. This early, Verdel could sprint for a few

hours, spared the intense heat of the day. His long deer like legs destroyed my weak

competition. I clocked his sprints above 30 mph.

I emptied my mind for a minute crossing the historic Third Street Bridge, looking at

the rushing creek water.

Feeling a bit winded, I stopped before a white trail tunnel to do pushups. My upper

body sizzled with the tingle of lactic acid in my legs. Jumping up after twenty-two solid

pushups, I catch Verdel licking tall blades of grass tufts. I bolt, and he follows me

through the unlit concrete tunnel near Iuka Park, a tiny tree banana, a sliver of dandelions

and nature amidst train tracks and oily college urbanism. Verdel loved to chase tiny dogs

through the dandelion p…”

“Put your hands up or I’ll shoot!”

A masked man with straight bright red hair emerged around the tunnel wall and

pointed a sawed-off shotgun at my chest. Verdel barked furiously.

For some reason this Ginger didn’t scare me in the least. I knew how to deal with

the situation.


59

I calmly put my hands in the air, keeping my finger on the SpoDart trigger of my

Omny.

“What do you want?” I asked

He growled, “Why are you smiling, motherpho-?”

Before he could insult my beautiful mother Kathleen, I unleashed a parallel barrage

of thirty-three electric SpoDarts. I ducked to avoid any errant shotgun blasts. My

SpoDarts stung him like an angry beehive. I bet he’s never felt so alive. If normal

thoughts are just tiny electric waves, the darts intensified thoughts by ten million.

I opened my eyes. I thanked my trusty SpoDarts, smiling as I removed the shotgun

of the comatose thug. The ultimate in personal security, SpoDarts are tiny darts launched

magnetically. With the press of a button, they deliver two electric vectors to an attacker,

an ultra-capacitor and piezoelectric crystal. You could buy Pharma Dart attachments for

long-term pharmaceutical incapacitation. Little old ladies and huge men alike swore by

SpoDarts. The crime rate had declined greatly with the commercialization of SpoDarts

and other reliable personal safety products. Compared to the Dazer, SpoDarts have ten

times the range, hundred times the capacity, and are a thousand times safer. I can’t be

carrying my electric firearm while running.

The ease of SpoDarts guaranteed their commercial success. The SpoDart system is

integrated into a bracelet, headband, or glasses (I liked the watch style). SpoDarts have

contributed greatly to the security of vulnerable Americans. The police are considering

replacing the Dazer with SpoDarts, because of superior range, accuracy, efficacy, safety,

and ease of use.

Verdel, what are you licking now? He had picked up a long length of rope nearby


60

on the grass. Good lookin’ buddy! Extra breakfast treats for you!

I bound tightly my attacker’s hands and feet with the rope, and accompanied Verdel

back to the SPOLE at the 3rd street intersection. A S-pole stands for a Solar Pole. Most

SPOLES were cones built of strong carbon fiber and insulated with aerogel. This

SPOLES’ base was at least double the diameter of the large oak in my back yard. The

SPOLE surface is covered with Solar Philm, generating two kilowatts of solar electricity.

A helical wind turbine spins at the top, suspending a neon blue light, while it generated

another three kilowatts of electricity.

SPOLES were the brainchild of my father, Joseph Spoey. My dad wanted to Seed

the social landscape with a connected mesh of security shelters. A lattice of SPOLES

served as an ad hoc InfoWeb, as a communication platform of musical architecture, as a

renewable source of energy for portable electronics, and as a secure shelter from the

elements. Most importantly, SPOLES were places that people came to drink clean water

and savor flavors of organic sno-cones.

Spoles are completely fueled by the sun, wind, biomass, and Hunergy. Hunergy is

my term for spiritual and physical energy of the human Mody. One common Hunergic

device is a forever flashlight, which creates electricity by moving a magnet through a

metal coil. This week, ESPN previewed the Hunergy version of the World’s Strongest

Man competition, in which they compete to generate the most electricity in various

machines. The most fun to watch is the squat generator.

On the SPOLE communications display, I open a message to the Columbus police,

give some water to panting Verdel, and quickly type in the details of my situation.

As I exit the SPOLE and run back down the OT trail, I hear police sirens zooming


61

towards the SPOLE. I marvel at the logical laws of modern society, contrasted by the

utterly unreasonable nature of some people, like the shotgun attacker. I am not one to

hate on business models, but most runners don’t carry anything of value. All I carried

was my SpoDarts and a runner’s high. What did he expect to steal from a sweaty runner?

A long day it has been already. I haven’t even eaten breakfast. I look for the

shortcut through Union Cemetery. Near the Olentangy Wetlands, I pull Verdel off the

Olentangy trail and down a hill of wildflowers. Verdel and I step through a human sized

portal in the woods. Instantly my environment transformed from woody trail to an ocean

of green and grey gravestones. I notice all the familiar Names in the grassy grave matrix.

I visualize my Aunt Becky’s eyes, my great grandmothers peas, my friend Ashley Hach’s

smile, and the hugs of my lovely grandmother, Mary. I cannot wait to meet them again, if

I finally win the game of life.

I run across the American Chemical Society lawn. I smile at the twenty manicured

acres of green grass. So much solar energy and biomass (grass and leaves) invested in

aesthetics. My lawn is an active source of energy, oxygen, water, hydrogen, electricity,

food, and bio-fuels. Yet this lawn offered even less utility than a parking lot. I will admit

the lawn looked great, aesthetic sink that it was. I had much work to do.

My body started to spasm as I sprinted the final distance back to my house. I

stumbled to find the key buried in the leaves. I remove my sweaty clothes as I switch on

the shower. I am especially obsessed with my shower, with digital temperature control,

waterproof MP3 player, and a brand new Shower Spiramid. I put on the Abbey Road

album by the Beatles, and set the water temperature to 99 degrees. Before I jump in, I

remember my morning spo-ritual DruPharma. I run into the kitchen to brew a pot of


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coffee for the day. Verdel runs with me, and I give him some water and food. He runs

outside to bark at the squirrels sitting on the fence posts, taunting his climbing skills.

Running floods my synapse with natural endorphin keys to open my opioid neuro-

locks. My euphoria expands as the fresh scent of coffee wafts into the warm shower. I

love to block my adenosine receptors with caffeine, obliterating any sign of the reaper’s

cousin during my daily delving into the intense impulses of patients at Tri Valley

Behavioral Health Care, the state of Ohio’s only mental health incarceration facility. The

patients at Tri Valley provide a raw sun-king contrast to yawning Ohio State

undergraduates. The brutal reality of human cognition lies in the insane’ golden slumbers.

You are the world filtered through your physical and spiritual memory.

Still cold sweat amongst the flowing warm shower water- I squirt some shampoo

into my palm from the Shower Spiramid, my father’s first commercial invention,

consisting of seven slide-in dishwashable liquid compartments, composed of see-through

performance polymer. The Shower Spiramid solved the problem of bathroom bottle

clutter, centralizing liquid dispensing in one convenient device: two shampoos,

conditioner, two flavors of body wash, bubble bath, face wash, whatever you choose.

Nothing inspired my father as intelligent combination- in ideas, markets, and love.

The day my dad launched the Shower Spiramid, I scolded him for his lack of

product foresight, from a remote tropical island.

I remembered our conversation that day. “Dad, The Spiramid is perfect for

customization and diversification. It is perfect for any sort of liquid dispensing. Think

about it, you could make a chemistry lab Spiramid. Or a insulated travel version. You

could market a childproof larger Convenient Closet Spiramid for cleaning and other


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household liquids. You could market industrial vers--”

“STOP!” My dad’s yell shook my eardrum.

“David son, its 2 o’clock in the morning. What are you doing still up?”

“You know I can’t sleep until 3”

“Stop drinking a pot of coffee- you aren’t in the army. Call me in three hours when

I get up. Psycho.” Click.

Mmmm…a waft of roasted coffee bean tingled my olfactory bulb, pushing my

consciousness into physical focus. Gliding the Shampoo dispense button with great gusto,

I whistled Polythene Pam as I decided on watermelon body wash. Why not, Mary my

secretary already suspects I am ahem fruity. I don’t protest because that way she doesn’t

pry into my romantic life, admittedly nonexistent these days. I am so busy and I haven’t

found anyone as crazy awesome as me yet. Did I just say crazy awesome? Grow up

David, you sound like your teenage cousin Suzy. And I’m using watermelon body wash.

What’s a guy supposed to do? It smells good! Does that make me metrosexual? People

are so presumptuous these days. Who believes in simple goodness anymore? My jaw

clenched and concentrated on the sound of rushing water. Deciding to relax my jaw, I left

the previous jumble of thoughts in a pool of sudsy water at my feet.

I chose to skip the conditioner and turned off the hot water. The colding deluge

closed my pores and catalyzed my exit. Finally I reach the coffee pot, enjoying the cold

French vanilla cream swirl in fractal white spirals amidst the brown elixir. The toaster

popped out some golden brown toast, which I promptly covered with peanut butter and

tomatoes…haha just kidding what do you think I’m crazy? Just plain buttons and toast in

the morning, thank you. Two fried eyes on buttered toast and my dish is fully layered.


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Mary will probably have a little morning snack, so there’s no need to scarf more. I poured

three liquids- spicy V8, orange juice, and ice-cold Brita-filtered water, with a squirt of

lemon, of course.

I peep the remote and turn on the plasma, recline on the black leather couch while I

break fast. The early morning news discusses the psychiatric disease formerly known as

Multiple Personality Disorder. Now, the official term is Dissociative Identity Disorder. I

imagined entered both terms into my Omny, my personal information interface. The

Omny is a product that I want to commercialize. As a psychiatrist and neuroscientist, I

am extremely interested in intelligent systems. The Omny is one’s personal oracle- it

processes, receives, transmits, displays, teaches, illustrates, organizes, synchronizes,

categorizes, resonates, suggests, guides, educates, entertains, networks, records, gathers,

touches, analyzes, reports, searches, predicts, plans, downloads, uploads, and if I so

choose, the Omny EVOLVES.

The Omny, for those of you living in Antarctica the past decade, is what the

personal computer became, the OmniPDA, capable of doing anything you could

imagine. One could live in the virtual metaverses of the Omniverse all day. Many spent

hours there, and most were better off for it. The Omny’s application – OmniVersity—

consisted of 99.9% of all human knowledge and experience, presented in every format.

The OmniVersity made learning easy, offering many wearable and stand-alone user

interfaces, such as shoes, hats, glasses, laser displays, holographic displays, OLCD

screens, wristwatches, laptop, desktop, hats, walls, and active gloves.

Another application for the Omny is the OmniMarket, where an individual can buy

or purchase any sort of thing, provided one intended benevolent purposes. To optimize


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transfer protocols (OTP), the Omny integrates with the intelligent transport system

(OmniGrid), securing a stable connection for all transport: people, information, material,

and energy. It contains the Omni Positioning System (OPS). Omny controls our OmniBot

God-Slaves, formerly known as machines. The Omny performs at least 100 PetaFlops, a

processing speed similar to the techno-sapien brain. (It Hertz, I know, these unstoppable

100,000,000,000,000,000 operations per second. Similarly, the amount of solar energy

hitting Earth’s surface each second (120 PetaWatts). Ten billion people on Earth; 10

billion transistors; 10 billion active neurons. Quality is merely conscious quantity.

Whoops. Sorry about that. My mind often explodes in fractal thought. Sometimes I

have ten thought tangents from one central thought station. I send branches off in

opposite directions to aid my conscious energy conservation. Feel free to skim, as not

everything I say is important, and time is of the essence. We must keep our focus on our

goals, or else we will end up somewhere else. Sometimes my mind looses focus and I

brainstorm marketing plans for a future product. In the past year, I have networked

extensively with intelligent motivated people. They have helped me see the third major

revolution, the transport revolution, in which we techno-spirits now live. The first two

human revolutions were the agricultural revolution, which produced surplus civilization,

and the industrial revolution, which produced modern cities. The transport revolution

subsumes the previous two revolutionary developments, as the OmniCorporation builds

the global human body, through integrated transport systems. The Internet and the rise of

cell phones represent the initial stage of the Transport Revolution, as we grow complex

yet unified information networks across the globe. Now (essentially) any information is

freely accessible to any connected individual on the planet. Information is first because of


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its ethereal, entity-dependent nature. It is a non-rival good, meaning it can be copied

freely, once the information pattern is created. Along the information networks, and the

existing transportation systems, the OmniGrid will emerge, ensuring transport security

for people, information, material, and energy (PIME). The OmniGrid will be a self-

reliant infrastructure, separating the planes of transport to eliminate collisions. You don’t

wonder how the light turns on, from where the faucet water flows, or where the toilet

water goes. You just know everything works. The OmniGrid ensures the right stuff gets

to the right place at the right time.

Cars may enter the grid and travel automatically. Public taxis remain on the

OmniGrid. Goods and Freight travels at high speeds across the globe, although most

things are produced locally. OmnEnergy, pure water and clean air are harvested and

carried by the OmniGrid. Biomass is grown along the OmniGrid, producing food, fiber,

fuel, and fun. But my favorite benefit is the trash tube, which takes all the refuge back to

atomic recycler plants. No more smelly garbage in the streets.

The OmniGrid combines the three logistical functions of economics: production,

transport, and regeneration. Through efficient logistics, the OmniGrid matches

production with consumption, supply with demand, inputs with outputs. What are the

nine sources of OmniGrid energy? I count nine power source champions! Solar, wind,

biomass, Hunergy, geothermal, hydrokinetic, fusion, fossil fuel, and fission. Note that

hydrogen production requires one of these primary energy sources. Thus hydrogen is

merely an ideal energy carrier, burning to produce water, but not a primary power source.

In contemplating this OmniGrid, my outlook changed from an academic therapist to

a social capitalist. I now realize business provides the key for creating global wealth by


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introducing beneficial technologies. The Transport Revolution combines art and science,

subjective experience and objective knowledge to achieve a dynamic commercial

synthesis. If we optimize OmniMarket transport of the OmniCorporation, humanity will

reach Type One Civilization, and our descendents will live in blissful peace. The

alternatives are not desirable. Marketing allows innovative external applications of many

psychological truths. We live in an abundant universe, limited only by our mind antennas.

If we exist to produce, we should at least work wisely. Everything was for sale today on

the OmniMarket. To buy life, you must sell your time for wealth.

Wikipedia describes the psychiatric phenomenon of multiple personalities in droll

terms. Apparently, the new mental handbook replaced MPD with DID as the official

term. Psychiatric officials believe it not possible to have two people in one body. These

Psych Masters couldn’t have more than one thought at once. They never thought in

fractal thought trees. Simultaneous abilities are selfish advantages. But that is just myself.

I am not the patients I see on a daily basis. They couldn’t control their impulses, whereas

I could. The Buddhists deny selfish stability.

I put my plate down on the floor for my begging buddy Verdel, his shining coat a

perfect blend of brilliant brown and shining black. I had taken him yesterday to the dog

wash. Deathly afraid of running water, he usually cowers in hear when the shower rains

down on him. I laughed at the black Psi on the top of his brown head. The clean plate fit

snugly into the dishwasher and I flipped it on.

I need more dishwashing solution. Katabaz always said, “Perfect your experience.”

All good marketing created desire for a feeling. Annoying advertising stuck in my head

stronger than pleasant melodies. Did I desire to be annoyed, bewitched, confused, and


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deceived? I wasn’t too sad about it. Everyone smile- the universe smiles with you.

This strange year of 2006, surprisingly immodest and painfully delicious to

experience, gave an air of originality to the chain of events. Even the month September

crept as an Indian ballerina sneaking one final stupendous dance, before ending his

prowess with a standing ovation from the whole audience, all children at home drinking

vanilla coffee sweet and creamy. How do you take the caffeine advantage?

Beep. Beep. Beep. There goes my phone alarm. It’s 7 AM. My treasured early

morning quiet hour is over. Time to start the day. First stop, Tri Valley Behavioral

Health Care, to check on a few of my favorite people- Eva and the infamous Katabaz

Theodix- both afflicted with MPDeity, I mean, Dissociative Identity Disorder. It had

been a week since I had seen Katabaz- and he sent me a few threatening emails, to

[email protected]. I let him have my personal email because he made me laugh,

with his violent manners and ever flowing warped personalities.

After tragically losing his wife and daughter when a drunk driver crashed into their

car, Katabaz snapped and went on a road trip of destruction. Katabaz believes that my

father Joseph poisoned him three years ago to steal SpoKa, their corporation now called

SpoTilm. Katabaz acts kind to me, but I detect faint flickers of deep resentment of my

family. Katabaz managed to wrest one patent away from SpoTilm, for Autorine, an

automated waste management system. At the patent office, they don’t give much

intellectual credence to a man in the ‘loony prison.’ Say what you want about the

confluence of genius and madness, relative to success. I didn’t want Autorine, anyway.

I felt gratitude to be free. How great it is to be alive. To feel, to know, to act, to say

I love you- truer dialogue. Living a collective Dionysian delusion. I wish I had time to


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spend with everyone, but since I don’t- I am lucky to be here with you. I forgive myself

for every mistake I make, and vow to do better. The dilemma had become a conundrum.

No restraint and no regret? What other option is there? The wondrously real absurdity of

absolute freedom made me a little dizzy.

Oh go away, I thought, as an annoying housefly lands on my nose. I couldn’t

exactly smack it there. Its dirty buzz disgusted me. What purpose did it serve? Why the

fly existed befuddled me. Then I remembered. It exists because its systems are currently

sustainable. It escaped death for a fleeting moment, before I smashed it into my table

with a good paperback, “The Culture of Narcissism,” by Christopher Lasch. I cleaned it

up with a tissue- into the garbage you go. Once you learn to laugh at yourself, you can

truly be happy. As an OmniCidal techno-monkey, I had no mercy for the tiny insect

soldier polluting my air with unsanitary nanotechnology, trying to distract me from the

task at hand- departing in my automobile, a Lexus RX330.

Listening to the car growl awake, I clicked my seatbelt and replaced my black iPod

Nano into its mobile home. On a Dark Side binge lately, feeling comfortably numb in

Floyd’s watching the sunrise on the horizon. Trying to Breathe feeling all that I touch a

bit too intensely in fiery dreams lashing my mind. Again I remembered my fingers

feeling the soft corpse of the housefly through a Bounty paper towel layer. I said a quick

thank you for this human mind castle. Better a living techno-sapien than a dead housefly.

For so much I have to be grateful. My whole life relies on the labors of other

people, living and dead. They invented this language, built the roads, educated my

parents, sewed my clothes, and smiled as I passed. I can only my work of hope heals

heavy-burdened hearts. I thank sHeIaM for everything I have. sHeIaM is me, you, my


70

mind, my universe, and my GOD. sHe is the Generator, Operator, & Destroyer. sHe is

everything. sHe is OmniTruth. Each human mirrors the universal beauty. We are born as

tiny feral naked apes, incapable of worrying for ourselves. Culture carved me into a

productive techno-sapien, in turn working for others in society. Our combined strengths

eliminate individual weaknesses.

The Money track started with the register sounds. I visualized a vivid Technicolor

shift. My mind switched back into linear logical daytime thought. Traffic flowed along I-

70 going East, as us techno-monkeys rushed to their sheeple work-boxes like herded

hanimals, to power the globamerilocal economy with their spiritual and physical energy. I

was one of seven billion Human batteries who worked to spark the daily economic

miracle. We returned home at night, to recharge through restorative phusion of sport,

food, sleep, and social love (slove). All is the excitation and relaxation of GOD, like

Solve et Coagula.

Finally I pulled into the Tri Valley Behavioral Health Care parking lot. I marveled

at the black pavement, a testimony to the passivity of the current transportation system.

So much wasted paved-over green real estate, and for what? Level Ground to deposit

automobiles during driver absence. Economics rules the world. I visualized the

OmniMarket and the OmniGrid. At least my kids would live to see both.

The black pavement warmed my shiny black shoes, complemented by crisp khakis

and a smooth black Gucci shirt. Three days ago (Friday), I went on a shopping date with

an ultra-smooth lady named Jill. She convinced me to pick up some sharp clothes for

work. A casual dresser by birth, I lost myself in Jill’s curvy brown eyes and intense

figure. Why not? We picked out matching black outfits. Hers was laced with dark purple


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and mine with dark blue. We looked stunning in our new outfits purchased at Easton, the

suburban mall of traffic and hellfire. This city owned suburban shopping district

demonstrated the new model for extra-urban development. The town lost independence

and farmland, and gains tax revenue and government subsidies, to create a massive

gorporate cancer, swallowing oil capsules, forests, and nonconformists by the boatload.

Of benevolent American commercial tissue, Easton received a million black Friday visits

in Columbus. I reached the double reinforced entrance and pocket -fumbled.

I swiped my key, and the door buzzed with approval.

“Congratulations, Dr. Spoey. You found a lady to dress you.” Godu the check-in

security guard blinked unbelieving my flashy attire as I walked in dressed my new

Monday gear. I looked up at Godu and smiled sheepishly.

“Aw Doctor, don’t sweat it. You look fly. Keep it up and you might get lucky.”

Through the dura-glass, Godu loved to watch the strange activities of Tri Valley, the only

institution in Ohio for mentally ill convicts. I wondered if he ever felt caged in his gilded

security palace. Secretly, I believed Godu had a NGRI brother (Not Guilty by Reason of

Insanity) here at Tri Valley. He always kept the coffee hot and the doors warm.

“Thanks a lot, Godu. Can you give me the code for Katabaz?”

Godu laughed and said, “That cat gives me the creeps. Compared to Eva, Kata is a

modern day monster.”

Famous to all Tri Valley staff, the only two patients diagnosed with DID/MPD, Eva

and Kaz required daily-changed key-codes to enter their rooms, because of their sudden

changes in personalities and pro-pensi-clivity for physical and mental violence. Truth be

told, there weren’t many volunteers beside myself. Transitions are the most important


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factor in life, otherwise known as surfaces, interfaces, connections, boundaries, extremes,

limits, parameters, differences, separations, and changes

My stoic demeanor suited me well, for my inner life surged with OmniOrdered

transformations. Unlike Katabaz, I possessed amazing impulse control. I often wondered

if I entered the mental health field to find keys to unlock my own tangled self. I finally

figured I came for more than one reason. In the unrestrained spontaneous “psychotic”

behavior I saw sporadic glimpses of pheral truth. Individuals reflected the cultural

insanity gripping the globe in the birth pangs of the Transport Revolution, as the proto-

PIME grids are in development, transcending the Internet infrastructure, to securely

transport People’s InfoMassErgy. Enjoy youth requires indomitable courage and

confidence.

I walked through the automatic door on my left and down a long bright corridor. At

the last door, I swiped my ID card and punched in the seven-digit key-code ‘8-9-4-1-2-1-

0’. The door opened and the two infamous doors appeared- on the left Katabaz’s colored

black and to the right, Eva’s royal purple, both colors by insistence of their endless

personalities.

I listened for sounds from either side. Nothing but Silence. I knocked on the grey

door. “Good Morning Katabaz. Care to chat?”

After a short silence he said, “Caffeinate me, and we’ll see.”

A familiar request, I ran to the cafeteria and grabbed two vanilla lattes. My

breakfast caffeine maintained a solid blood-force of adenosine blockage, but another

vanilla latte never hurt anyone.

I entered the code again, 8-9-4-1-2-1-0.


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“Okay, Katabaz, your latte is searing my hand. What’s the deal?”

Katabaz “Come in, fellow inmate Spoey.”

I opened the door with my ID card.

Katabaz continued, “I’m surprised you haven’t left yet. You have the brains for the

business world, and you are your father’s heir for his financial and intellectual estate.

You should be out making real cash through his stolen ideas. Instead, you waste time

talking to locked up luna-tics like me.”

I laughed and took a gulp of coffee. Katabaz knew how to find your thumbscrew-

the linchpin of your dreams.

I said, “Well, money is not my prime motivator. Truth propels me. Have you

considered I enjoy your company?”

He scoffed, “Boy you don’t get it. The only thing worth valued in this

OmniCapitalist society is capital. Money is God. Money is food-power. Money is

Memory. Money is Time. If you want power to change the world, you must have money.

Governments on Drugs love the Money Power. Get with the program. Transportation is

Civilization Powered by Solar Capital. The El-ites worship Sol’s atomic technology,

hydro-fusion producing all the photons on which we humans and vineyards rely.”

I shifted positions in the chair and paused, “Huh?” I needed to listen closely.

My cell buzzes and I look down at the screen- text message from Mary, my office

secretary. I switch it to silent.

I take a big swig of the coffee. Hmmm…what was that tinge of bitterness? I didn’t


74

recall that taste, however faint.

Kaz’s cryptic smile resonated with my bones and belly, this one especially

unnerving. He hungrily sucks down a self-rolled cigarette. Tobacco was valuable dru-

pharma, especially for patients with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, two of Katabaz

many disorders. I poke the hole of his smoke ring and it dissipates into a circle of

whirling wisps. He smirks and blows a replacement. He flicks the top of the new ring and

produces a transitory smoke heart.

How delightful. I knew Katabaz would capture many a woman’s heart on their first

date- with his confident yet mysterious rhetoric. After the first date his spell might begin

to wear off, when Katabaz changed from a handsome black haired man to carerrorist

recruiter.

Yet whatever spell he cast, it worked. I fell out of my chair and slumped to the

floor. My head pounding, I felt my body spasm as Katabaz stopped ranting and pounced

over the table towards me.

Before all faded to black, I fired two SpoDarts, catching him in mid-flight with the

paralyzing electric current.

His eyes flew open and he fell to the ground next to me, shaking violently.


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Chapter Seven

Alpha Merica at Ohio State in 2042

SPORTIME : Real Time Information Matter Energy

Solar Powered Omni Renewable Transport

Alpha triggered the decelerator. His black OmniPod slowed from continental

velocities, They left the simple rural OmniGrid and entered the dense layers of Ohio’s

capital city’s OmniGrid. Alpha cruised into Columbus city lanes at 80 mph. Before ten

thoughts appeared the familiar sight of the two Ohio State campus Towers, Lincoln and

Morrill. Omny took over directing the OmniPod to their destination- the house of

Isabella Loveda, located on the southwest corner intersection of Lane and Indianola

Avenue.

Alpha’s Omny twinkled with video message from Isabella, “I can’t wait to see

you, Alpha. We had so much fun last time.”

Alpha jerked up as Beta screamed in shotgun. “A Michigan FAN! On Ohio

State

Campus! Have they no respect? We will be kings of the country once again. On our way

to national championship , our Scarlet and Grey shall again annihilate their treacherous

blue and gold.”

“I know. I’m glad we took the weekend off to come here for the Michigan home

game. Been an unbelievable season so far! Did you hear about their star quarterback

Tony’s workout tent? Now that’s a party. I need a good celebration after finishing a solid


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year of filming The Ultimate Reality Show. I pushed my mind body and spirit to their

limits last year.”

Omny played a cheerful melody as we pulled off the city OmniGrid, down the

exit ramp, and onto the top of Isabella’s house at the corner of Lane and Indianola.

Isabella gave me a bear hug. We pulled our bags out of the OmniPod, and the

AutoGarage took it away.

In the Transport Revolution, the OmniGrid conquered the world with secure tube-

trails. Every city developed a distinct yet compatible transport system. Some cities

preferred large freight and vehicles to run underground. Some cities ran all transport

underground and some all above ground. About ten years before, Columbus had

completed a world-class OmniGrid. The Columbus OmniGrid captured the clever spirit

of the city, masking the powerful genius of the system with enchanting spaces for tourist

and citizen alike.

I turned my attention to the tan skinned chocolate haired young beauty gazing into

my soul with curvy brown eyes.

“Isabella, you look astounding, as usual. The SpoRiTual OmniGrid got us here in

less than 8 hours from San Diego. How are you? And who is your darling blonde friend

hugging Beta?”

“That is Diana. I’ve got more friends downstairs waiting to start the Friday pre-

game celebration.” Isabella batted her long eyebrows.

I grinned widely. I felt young again; the floating feeling to start the never-ending

night. “You college kids know how to party. I must say, twenty years ago the campus

didn’t look so nice. I’m really excited about the Columbus’ development.”


77

Isabella said, “Well, get ready for an OSU drinking barrage. But first, let us build

bases in our stomachs with some pasta. Hungry?”

“Indubitably!” I said.

The four of us walked downstairs. Four more ladies, Isabella’s roommates, ran

around preparing for the night.

To warm up our stomachs, we ate fresh washed cherries from a purple bowl. I

remarked, “These are great cherries, the perfect balance of tart and sweet.”

“Thanks, I grew them upstairs in the aquaponic gardens. Do you want some wheat

grass? Its great for your urinary tract.” Lucy, an intensely beautiful blonde, pointed her

index finger at the higher garden layers of their house.

Honestly, I could have used some. But the taste of wheat grass…it’s just not up

my alley. “No thanks babe. I might take you up tomorrow, if my head hurts before the

game.”

The room fell quiet and we heard a scream of OH-IO from the streets. The best

things stay the same.

Isabella interrupted the silence and turned on the omni-recorder, “I want to re-

member this night with my mother. Alpha, tell us a juicy scoop, about your book deal for

OmniCapitalist and your holo-movie – Omni Reality Show, or some SpoDeas.”

“Oh, I’d rather not. I just finished a year filled with work. Let’s focus on the great

things we have right here- great company, delicious food, amazing transport, and a

delightful night of drinking glucotic mixtures of aqua and ethanol.”

“Well, then at least tell us of your favorite Island.” All six of the coeds leaned in

to the table to catch SpoTilm’s secrets.


78

“There’s no contest for that one. My favorite island remains the first island owned

by SpoTilm, called Malakahari. My friend Pat George came up with the name.

Malakahari is located off the coast of Venezuela. Beta, would you agree that its lush

blue-water and crystal sands cannot compare to the blinding beauty in this room?”

“It must be heaven, Alphonse. How may we visit?” Isabella cracked.

“You are hilarious, Isabella,” I said.

I liked no one better than confident intelligent females, ladies like my mother,

Melinda Verde- strong, loyal, and beautiful. Something about Isabella resonated the

strong mother archetype embedded in Eva’s dream, the balancing force on all levels.

“SpoTilm established the first prototype of OmniGrid on Malakahari in 2024. We

tested our OmniPods on the tiny OmniGrid.”

“How?”

“What do you mean how?”

“Explain our wonderful transport system in common language. What powered the

OmniGrid in 2024?”

“The same energy sources used today. Primarily, solar radiation, all-altitude wind

fuel, hydrokinetic power, bio-fuel, hydrogen, fossil fuels, geothermal, atomic fission, of

course- clean nuclear fusion. But most essential is Hunergy- human physical and spiritual

energy.” OmniGrid extensively employs electricity, the most efficient energy carrier.

Electricity, of course, equals electrons flowing through a conductor like a wire, like water

molecules flowing through pipes.”

Lucy interrupted me, “My dad told me hydrogen was the energy source of the

future. Is that true?”


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“Hydrogen is a great carrier of energy, but it is not a primary source. It takes

energy to produce and store pure hydrogen.”

Lucy crinkled her nose, “So what are the things storing and using the energy?”

“Tubes, Valves, Wires, Fuel Cells, Super-Capacitors, Batteries, Generators,

Linear Induction Motors, Magnetic Motors, Internal Combustion Engines, and Humans.”

Alpha smiled, knowing only a specific audience even understood all of the previous

components. This tiny audience was composed of the people who designed the

OmniGrid, anyway. Everyone else just used it like a toilet or a faucet, adapting to expect

automatic PIME transport.

Isabella took control, “Let’s move onto the assumptions behind the OmniGrid?”

“Everything is movement – idea, thought, WORD, action, habit, character,

destiny.”

I continued, “As Kipling said, Civilization is transport. Controlled movement (of

light, information, matter, and energy) is civilization. OmniGrid ensures the optimization

of transport protocols (OTP). OmniGrid integrates transportations into a coherent meta-

system with distinct tube/rail/track/path/grid/vehicle systems for each transport path:

Light, Energy, Information, Humans, OmniPods, Water, Goods, Freight, and Refuse.”

Isabella interrupted, “Whoa! That is a bit too deep for me. Exactly what is so

great about OmniGrid? Why your integrated transport systems enjoyed global success?”

OmniGrid rules because good motion is the key to intelligence. The entire society,

individuals and organizations alike, benefit from an integrated efficient transport system.

America’s transport system around 2010 consisted of tons of blacktop, tons of waste, tons

of inefficient cars, tons of traffic, tons of pollution, and tons of greased up fun. The


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Automobile ruled king, just as it does today. Only today, with the OmniGrid, the

automobile is now an ultimate OmniMobile that is secure, powerful, convenient, and

efficient. Instead of endless miles of passive blacktop, we have ten thousand miles of

active energy-harvesting modules fueling the transformations of integrated transport

system. Each transport lane has its own secure path, with no dangerously inefficient

intersections or collisions. Each part of the transport system provides free energy, if the

OmniMobile drivers decide to use it. Most private cars chose to use their onboard energy

sources, and stop at Energy Stations, where they could charge their batteries, fuel cells, or

refill bio-fuels into Internal Combustion Engines. Why rely on Arabs for fuel? Biomass

was enough for Henry Ford.

The secret domination of the Electric motors, with superior torque curves, ensured

most private and all public OmniPods are electric. Magnetically controlled electron

parties constitute the bulk of public transport.

“What the heck is a torque curve?”

It charts the amount of radial force (torque) generated by an engine in relation to

revolutions per minute, illustrating the engine’s performance at different RPMs.

Translation, torque curves show the amount of power generated by an engine at different

frequencies.

Every type of social organization profits by integrating most essential traffic on an

efficient transport: Individuals, Families, Businesses, Schools, Religions, Governments

and Species. The OmniGrid, traversed by public and private vehicles, fueled by the sun’s

constant insolative input of170 PetaWatts of Phonergy, wind energy, water energy,

geothermal energy, biofuel, human energy (Hunergy), fossil fuels, and atomic energy


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(fusion and fission). Symbolically and physically, the five elements that fuel OmniGrid:

fire (solar phusion), air (wind), water (hydrokinetic), earth (geothermal, fossil fuels), and

modal work of techno-spirits (Hunergy). Compare these to plasma, gas, liquid, solid, and

dark superstring energy.

The OmniGrid was destined to arise as humans learned to better harness the

available terrestrial energy. But I am certainly a biased observer. Out of fairness, I’ll

review the negatives of OmniGrid. All change causes consequences.

With the OmniGrid, there is no traffic, no accidents, no friction, no weather

problems, no parking problems/meters, no wasted lots of parking, no harmful emissions,

no drunk/drugged driving, no sleepy driving, no intersections, no mental ill driving, no

getting lost, no speeding tickets, no stoplights, no intersections, no flat tires, no one-way

streets, no dangerous turns, no one-lane mountain roads, no pedestrian danger, no

construction back-ups, no narcoleptic danger, no towing trucks, no teenager screw-ups,

no road rage, no fatal mistakes, and no worries.”

What about wine, Alpha? Isabella waved her hands.

Well, I thought you knew wine is shipped in the goods and freight tubes, or

carried on the OmniPods.

“No Alpha…Red or white?

Okay, Pinot Grigio is fine.

Please keep going Alpha.”

Here are the positives of the OmniGrid:

Enjoy Intelligent Omny2OmniPod synchronization. Choose your optimal lane,

speed, route, and destination. Use communication media while riding, get work done,


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read a book, have conference call, watch movie, write articles, sightsee, earn money

watching advertising traveling the country. Travel Atlantic to Pacific in 7 hours. Marvel

at automatic navigation and Clean-Quiet technology. Your free public and private travel

is supported by OmniMarket advertisements and sustainable energy (solar, biofuel, wind,

geothermal, hydrokinetic, hydrogen, fuel cells, electricity, Hunergy). The OmniPod

offers up to ten efficient power options. Charge the OmniPod with Hunergy and get an

intense workout. Get the blood pumping through your body.

After Alpha stopped, Lucy stood up on her chair. Everyone yelled at her. I

assumed she wrote for the Sentinel, the libertarian paper at The Ohio State University.

She ignored their verbal transport, moving outrageous thoughts through her

Mody. Jumping onto Alpha’s lap, she said, “OmniGrid is the ultimate transport system.

So why don’t you care about carving its name in stone to your credit? I’d think you’d

want to preserve the naming rights. Why don’t you call it AlphaGrid?”

Alpha smiled sheepishly, “I prefer function over form. And its not my invention-

efficient transportation belongs to every human, past and phuture. Words mean next to

nothing. They can’t even heat my coffee. I’m all about the implementation of ethical

intelligent efficient transport systems. I could care less about peoples’ laryngeal rumbles,

as long as all individuals and organizations reap the benefits. My mantra is capital

transport, free markets.”

“Dinner’s Ready!” Isabella and Diana carried two white bowls brimming with

pasta, mmm…rigatoni and angel hair. The seven roommates, Isabella, Diana, Cindy,

Jessica, Lucy, Emma, and Emily, plus us two SpoTilm guests sat down around the round

wooden table. The scarlet and grey Ohio State tablecloth smelled laundry fresh.


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I examined my intricately detailed silver fork decorated with scarlet gemstones.

Isabella even had expensive Buckeye scarlet and grey cutlery.

Isabella’s father started an OmniMobile manufacturing company to compete to

my OmniPod. There was nothing I liked better than a challenge. Both brands sold

billions, to private owners and public organizations. The divine performance of both

OmniCar brands could restore your faith in human technology. They stood for efficiency

and convenience. Both offered many power options: OmniGrid electricity , Batteries,

Solar Philm, Fuel Cells, Liquid Fuels. Super-Capacitors were optional for unbelievable

bursts of speed, better than any nitrous tank.

Chewing, slurping, and other satisfied noises pervaded the kitchen.

The spicy kick of the marinara complemented perfectly the zesty meatballs. I

cooled my palate with a tangy green salad topped with sweet Italian dressing, and took a

big swig of the lemon water.

Isabella scolded Lucy, “Stop reading your Omny. It is rude to our visitors.”

Lucy just stuck her tongue out and continued reading.

“This is great DruPhoo.”

What does that mean?

“I’ll take this one,” Isabella stood up.

Uh oh…I thought, she’s going to make a scene.

“Like his father, Alpha believes ONE God is Everything. All in one in all- he

believes God composes us. He believes we eat God. One of his many names for God is

DruFoo. Since he believes God is literally all the material in the universe, he worships

anything he entering his body as In-Ex-Foo DruFoo. This includes imbibing heat,


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visualizing light, resonating sounds, breathing oxy-air, refreshing H20, eating

smelly/tasty food, taking nutrients, and ingesting drugs.” These things are not options.

“I am blessed with Dru-Phictions. My Mody is Dru-Phixed to bodily energy,

clean air, pure water, and nutritious food. I cannot live without them”

“Complementing basic DruPhictions are SpoRituals, such as purification, sport

(movement), security, sleep, s-love, and mind-technology. Together, material

DruPhictions and spiritual SpoRituals integrate to represent the living phusion of any

techno-sapiens.”

“I’m impressed, Philosophaster Isabella. You remembered all that from our bar

stool conversation last time. I figured you didn’t even listen.”

“You aren’t always right, Alpha. I need two word checks. Explain SPO and

slove.”

Two of my favorite Spoisms, invented by my father, David Spoey. SPO often

means Solar Powered Omni. And Slove represents social/sexual love, the unification of

subject and other, male and female, yin and yang, into a beautiful growing garden.

Isabella interrupted, “When the two become one…”

I responded, “Dual Integration is essential. Just know that evol is the reverse of

love, and evols the reverse of Slove. Another of my favorite names for the universal

organism is EVOLOVE, which represents the evolving super-symmetry experienced as

the MUG of OmniSelf. Your Mind, our Universe, and my God, is captured in this

palindrome for the living conflict of constrained theodicy and human freedom.

MUGEVOLOVE


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Isabella groaned, “Okay, enough nonsensical Spo-words for this dinner. I hope

you do a better job of explaining all this OmniSpoPhunk in your book.”

I said, “The OmniCapitalist should be ready in a few months. I published

Spociety five years ago so it is a bit dated. Have you tried reading it?”

Isabella looked sheepish. “Honestly, your book started too slow for me. I need an

attention grabbing beginning. I require drama to keep me into a book. However could you

give some thoughts about GooKiZon? I heard that part of your book was awesome.”

Isabella checked her Omny display. She had been recording for almost an hour.

After the triumph of ADHD insta-market culture, why spend time to read a book

from cover to cover? People want concentrated secrets. Why spend hours slogging

through the whole experience? On GooKiZon, you can read the meta-phrase summary of

GooKiZon, the most popular application on Omny. GooKiZon represented the

information trinity of find, analyze, and obtain- modeled after the Internet kings: Google,

Wikipedia, and Amazon. The Find/Learn/Get trinity of GooKiZon remains the basic

commercial process in the OmniMarket. To what do you think GooKiZon connects?

Lucy jumped down from her chair. “GooKiZon connects with OmniGrid to bring

the product or service to the customer.”

The girls started chattering about the night. Alpha went into a quick daydream.

Who had time to think in a trillion dollar mind blast machine? People worked hard trying

to pay the credit minimum, watching holo-vision to numb the pain. People enjoyed

anything but hard thought. I enjoy challenging my mind, proving myself wrong up the

powerful slope of knowledge. People want distilled Alpha Merica, a concentrated blend

of futuristic anticipation. My book summarized in four sentences. Perfect in the days of


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information overload. We live in a just-give-me-the-keys culture. Time is of the essence.

Everyone loves the OmniGrid, but few had read Spociety, and even fewer the

OmniCapitalist. Why would you waste time reading other people’s dead words? I’m busy

doing something else now. I write only to provide a blueprint of the fundamentals. In this

hyper-visual culture, books have too many words to matter to most people. If you can

read and write with character, you are a rare treasure, a biological organization capable of

powerful choice. I wrote books but I could barely find time to read them. I, Alpha

Merica, also liked the distilled codes better.

“Time for dessert! Berry medley and peach pie.”

Isabella had obviously researched Alpha’s likes on OmniSpace.

She realized the glorious history prior to the miraculous present.

“No ice cream? What the…” Beta whispered sarcastically.

Shut up Beta. Be patient. I kicked him under the table.

I did expect ice cream from these hospitable ladies. I knew they wouldn’t let us

down. And right I was, as Isabella brought in three varieties of ice cream, chocolate,

caramel-chocolate, and strawberry. I felt something warm rest on my foot, and looked

down to see Isabella’s tiny poodle Jasper. He yawned widely. It’s exciting to see you too

Jasper! Isabella cherished Jasper. She even bought him an AutoPharma implant, which

gave Jasper regular insulin infusions. Jasper had lost his eyesight two years ago. Now he

was seventeen years old, or 119 in human years.

When the plates had been licked clean, Isabella hailed the OmniBot on her Omny

keypad. This special edition of the 2042 OmniBot had already sold millions within days

of its release. Isabella had opted for an elegant black design with a streamlined body. Its


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seven spindly legs transported it quickly from the kitchen into the dining room.

OmniBots purified the air, eliminated insect invaders, cleaned the house, and provided

friendly on-site security, along with any other task. Her OmniBot dispensed drinks, as

Isabella had customized it with an OmniBar module, a miniature version of the popular

automatic bar system found in most SpoTilm establishments.

By now it after 8 PM, and the screams of the first football weekend Columbus

permeated the girls’ house. Last night the Oval had been invaded by thousands of half-

naked Buckeyes. Today was September 1st. There was only ten days until my dad’s 70th

birthday. He had already started his vacation on Maui with the love of his wife Melinda.

Our gorgeous hosts took Beta and I upstairs to get us acquainted with their Shower

Spiramids.

I triggered the sustaining liquid of life, and the universal solvent water poured

from a thousand and one tiny holes. How I loved dihydrogen monoxide. I drifted into a

meditative silence in watery flow. Isabella yelled at me to hurry.

“Coming milady.” I turned off the water and dried off. While getting dressed I

marveled at the delightful cleanliness of the bathroom- the OmniBot had done a good job.

It made me smile to see SpoTilm create value for others.

Both the function and aesthetic of Columbus had improved since I had last visited

Columbus three years before. I had been so busy the past three years filming my movie-

The OmniReality Show, publicizing my book- The OmniCapitalist, and managing our

corporation- SpoTilm. Tonight I am free from productive constraints. Now I shall seize

the night- Carpe Noctem. It’s high time to enjoy a weekend on this beautiful Columbus

campus filled with energy and liquid (beer, blood, spit, and piss).


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My mind raced in anticipation of visiting SpoTilm establishments around campus,

especially the Dome Bar. I relished experiencing SpoTilm services as a regular Joe,

instead of Alpha Merica, part owner of SpoTilm Incorporated.

Isabella exclaimed, “I want to go to the Dome Bar first.” The Dome bar had been

designed by my friend Marija, who graduated in architecture during my years at Ohio

State.

“Okay sounds good. Should we take our OmniPods or just hire a big OmniTaxi?”

“I’d rather hire an OmniTaxi. Then we’ll ride together in the same vehicle.”

“I want to leave in ten minutes.” Isabella wrapped my eyes in a piercing gaze, her

fractal gold suns dripped into a hazel ground, locking my entire modal being. My mind

and body bound time into a holistic appreciation for her intensity.

Isabella flexed her biceps and growled. “I’m a time slayer!”

“I think I’m more of a time slave,” I joked wryly.

Through her Omny control pad, now wrapped around her forearm, Isabella hailed

a ten person OmniTaxi. Then she paged her roommates, probably dancing around

upstairs, to the new viral Omny tune, “Your Music Moves My Soul.” Thankfully,

Isabella felt confident in her piercing golden brown eyes, flawless face, brunette locks,

and stunning figure. Her preparation time was mercifully short compared to other lady

socialites. I will say though, I will never understand women, if that requires a mile’s

walk in high heels, with four made up face masks.

I let Isabella gel my hair to clear my forehead and add some spikes. Next I

grabbed my orange Bug-Out-Bag, filled with all sorts of goodies and gadgets I might

need during the night. I ate a wintergreen mint and applied bologna in all the right spots,


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my hair, the collar of my striking orange shirt, and on my dark blue WIA (Woven in

America) jeans.

“You’re OmniTaxi is waiting at the downstairs OmniGrid-dock, Isabella.”

Isabella cackled at Omny’s synthetic human speech, pleasant and motherly.

Isabella said, “What can I say? I love my mother. She spoiled me and I can never

repay her. I put my mother as the Omny default voice, she warms my heart to hear.”

I couldn’t restrain myself. I started laughing, “Teheehee teheeheehe. I feel the

same way.”

Through her Omny, Isabella switched her OmniBot into security mode and set the

locks after we exited her ultra-modern house.

Beta and I let the ladies enter the roomy black OmniTaxi first, attempting to buy

coins of chivalrous capital currency, before we started drinking many potions of Ethan

All, and scarlet or grey our faces became.

As the OmniTaxi started down Lane Avenue, I looked up through the OmniTaxi’s

skylight to the last colors of the sunset fighting the night. Sol’s light wave vibrations

resonated with the cone cells in my retinal holo-video sensor, known as the fovea.

We slid silently out of the dock up the entry tube. We entered the slow OmniGrid

lane, reaching a pleasant speed of 40 mph. High in the distance appeared the pyramidal

apex of our First Destination: SpoTilm’s DOME BAR, a magnificent dome spanning the

Olentangy River behind the Horseshoe (The OSU Buckeyes football stadium) and two

infamous residential dorm towers, Lincoln and Morrill. The Dome Bar networked with

the OmniGrid to optimize InfoMassErgic transport.


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Syncing her Omny with the OmniTaxi, Isabella played “Freebird,” an old classic

song of my father David, who loved to play air guitar to the ending solo.

Marveling at the passing greenery, I recalled memories of utter fear speeding

through the pot-hole alleys of Columbus, driving on broken glass in the same path as

pedestrians and bikers, narrowly missing freegans diving through leaky green dumpsters.

I envisioned Lane Avenue with the last vestiges of the old urban transport system,

dominated by internal petro-combustive engines. Constant smog, pollution, sirens,

drunken druggy drivers, blind turns, one way streets, parking meters, Sly the Parking

Queen- looking back at the sad past makes me appreciate the today’s optimized transport

in 2042.

Today in 2042, millions of vehicles still traverse the city, yet without friction,

traffic, collisions, drugged driving, or any other inefficiency. The OmniGrid automates

quality transport of any PIME quantity, along integrated tube, rail, and track systems.

Transport is Civilization. Perfect transport should manifest a perfect techno-spirit

civilization.

OmniGrid single-handedly doubled urban real estate. Old cities wasted space

above roads and buildings. Today, that open space is now productive layers of transport,

as cities installed Biomass Building Connectors (BBCs) connected to the OmniGrid.

BBCs transform solar and wind energy into electricity, hydrogen, pure water, clean air,

and food. The BBCs also function as automatic OmniPod parking/storage systems. The

advent of automated OmniPod parking systems eliminated parking issues. The OmniGrid

combines all levels of transport, weaving all peoples’ information, energy, and material


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onto one securely sustainable meta-system. PIME SPORT People Information Matter

Energy Solar Powered Omni Renewable Transport.

Sorry about that folks. Please understand I inherited tendencies to fractal tangents

from my father. Please skim neologisms or empty acronyms. I have to remember

somehow. Don’t try to understand me. I barely comprehend myself. Probe thyself.

Pulling into the DOME Bar OmniPod entrance, the girls had to yank Beta and I

out of the OmniTaxi, as the trip ended before Freebird. We didn’t get to hear the Lynyrd

Skynyrd wailing gym teacher solo. Duh na nah nah nah duh na nah nai nah nah na…

Sdlfkjlefl. Yup, that’s it.

“I made a thousand dollars during the four minute trip.” Instead of sucking in the

moving Columbus sunset landscape, Beta had opted to watch advertainments on his

Omny. Advertainment combines entrancing scenery with advertising. Behold the

individual market power of the intelligent buyer. Corporations need consumers, which

means you have to capture their attention. Stare at viral marketing in alpha state and rake

in the cash. Goliath pays David to focus on his screen patterns. The wonders of

OmniCapitalism never cease.

We stepped out of the OmniTaxi on the Dome Bar OmniPod entrance dock. The

private OmniPods stored themselves in the automatic parking system, while the public

OmniTaxis zoomed back onto the OmniGrid. I checked my Omny- just 9 PM. I wanted

to be in bed by 3 AM. Six hours of partying, six hours of sleep until I wake up at 9 AM

for the campus run with Isabella.

I asked the group, “Have you been here before?”


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Isabella laughed, “This place is infamous at Ohio State OmniVersity. We come

here at least once a week. Have you been here before, Alpha?”

Sheepishly I said, “Only twice, once to open the place and once three years ago.

Can you give Beta a tour then?”

Isabella smiled, “Haha. Okay I will give Beta a tour of the first floor, while you

deal with the swarms of Papa Yahtzee.” Beta tugged playfully on Isabella’s elbow.

I opened the front door of the DOME Bar for the ladies, and we entered the first

and biggest of three floors. The doughnut layout enhanced dancing and drinking. The

infectious beat of tonight’s DJ forced my Mody into motion. We walked to the

impressive center column containing the Automatic OmniBar. The customers preferring

human drink service might choose the WeServe option, where the friendly Dome Bar

staff brings the auto-dispensed drinks, the bartenders get tips, and customers may choose

to receive the human element with their drinks.

I preferred the UServe option. I didn’t need sticky techno-sapien fingers slowing

up service. I put my finger on the sensor and my SpoTilm account displayed on the

screen. I clicked on ‘Specials’ and ordered eight DOME bar specials, a delightful medley

of cranberry, peach, and strawberry with top shelf vodka.

The display screen said, “Drinks in process.”

After ten seconds, UServe station door opened, revealing a tray with eight Dome

specials in clear GIA (Grown in America) biopolymer tumblers. Channeling my serving

days, I carried the tray back to the table selected by Isabella.

Isabella sipped the iced red liquid, “I love it. Cranberry good for waste

management issues- cleans out your urinary tract.”


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Diana cringed slightly, “You are vulgar. No one wants to speak of Phusion6.

Cranberry is sour, but it does has antioxidants to kill wrinkle-causing free radicals.”

“Then let me drink yours,” Beta had chugged his already- I tend to forget he is

still a young buck, only 37 years old. Can’t get enough party juice in his veins. Diana

frowned and crossed her arms as Beta grabbed her drinks. After chugging this special, he

burped loudly, “Those drinks were delicious, but I want double strength next time.”

I grimaced. Sometimes Beta lost his spatial-temporal coordinates. I whispered in

his ear, “Okay. Find the double strength button on the display, and get drinks for the

group.”

Since the national installation of the OmniGrid’s secure transport infrastructure,

and the elimination of drugged driving, Congress equalized the drinking age with 18

years. Old enough to die for the country, old enough to pour ethanol (CH3CH2OH)

solutions down your gullet. Now college freshmen could drink legally at OmniBars in the

great country of America, and keg beer once more floods the floors of the Halloran

House, as my wise dentist Dr. Brown reminisced. Most states preserved laws prohibiting

sales of deadly weapons filled with flammable date rape drugs after 9 PM. Liquor still

comes in glass bottles. People still love adenosine antagonists like caffeine, dopamine

agonists like nicotine, and GABA agonists like alcohol. This PharmaTrinity: Focus,

Reward, and Relax.

OmniBars remain fundamental to SpoTilm’s international success. After I

escaped from Katabaz’s island, to found SpoTilm at OSU, I saw huge potential in my

grandfather’s automatic drink company, SPOTI. With the help of SpoTilm’s brilliant

patent lawyer Ben Syzygy, we patented OmniBar in 2022, creating a huge Dome Bar on


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our SpoPharmic SwinDome outside Columbus. After simultaneously debuting in New

York, Las Vegas, Miami, Columbus, and Chicago, SpoTilm franchised the automatic

OmniBar system to spread it worldwide. Every drinker wanted to experience the

OmniBar benefits- no waiting in lines or shouting for drinks, ultimate customizability,

unbeatable prices, and a futuristic feel.

Proprietors loved the OmniBar even more. It allowed bulk liquor discounts.

Reduced no bartender mischief. Runs 24/7. Slashed labor costs. OmniCustomizable.

Streamlines Checkout. Accelerates Turnover. Ensures Sustainable Systemic Security.

The list of capital advantages stretched long, but its intuitive simplicity wins the day.

Best of all, OmniBar is self-cleaning and automatically restocking. OmniBar

became a perfect passive asset. Buy a few OmniBar systems, real estate, and two

managers, and vacation while the unbeatable margins- phenomenal price points- channel

liquidity into your account. Set it, and forget it! OmniBar orders all refills automatically.

It cleans itself constantly, remembers all past drinks by customer, and secures back-ups

of itself through OmniBar’s distributed memory networks.

Excuse me, Isabella. Pause your Omny-Recorder. My brilliant colleague Rob

Nammour just sent an urgent message to my Omny.

I checked Rob’s message on my portable Omny screen: I’m En route at 150 mph

in a OmniGrid fast lane. My ETA is midnight. It’s 10 PM, two hours until midnight.

I used my OmniType input pad to quickly type on a deliriously happy response to

Rob, giving him my location, company, and plans. I clicked ‘Send’ and Omny

transmitted the message. It was ten o’clock, two hours until the leader of the Pink Hippos

arrived. Rob would bring some needed fantasy.


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It read: Katabaz is coming to Columbus this weekend.

My stomach flipped as I felt my face blanch. I needed to gather myself.

“Who was that?” asked Isabella.

“Excuse me a minute.” I pretended to address SpoTilm related business on my

Omny. I gave Isabella the controls and she squealed with delight, obviously a first-timer

pilot.

My mind spun into confusion. I had killed him. Katabaz couldn’t be alive. Three

years ago, I personally tracked Katabaz to Washington D.C., where I infiltrated his

carerrorist and phascist networks, and prevented them from detonating a 10 megaton

nuclear device near the Capitol. Thanks to my investigative work, the police were able to

round up two thousand carerrorists. There are always more dealing in drugs, sex, and

violence. The carerrorists hated me, Alpha Merica, for they hated creators of happiness,

morality, and efficiency. They loved destruction and hate. Through my work in

establishing the optimizing OmniGrid, I had gained the ire of the most evil groups of

carerrorists: Pheral Children, OmniCidal Techno-Monkeys, DruFoosters, entopists, and

even the violet Omnarchist shadows. Most of the time, the carerrorists attacked the

OmniGrid. If anything, the OmniGrid carerrorism backfired on the carerrorists, as their

invidious attacks only convinced all good humans to bind together for beautiful transport,

once they saw how much the carerrorists hated the freedom of the OmniGrid. What is

society without lies and enemies to bind us?

Omni-StarTech’s elemental dissociation technology transformed his bodily

remains into energetic natural gas and a tiny obsidian pyramid. I drilled a hole through it,

and wove it into some thread. I wore it around my ankle to always remind my syntropic


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omnihumanist innovist extropic SpoisT OmniSelf of the entropic essence we fight

constantly. Watch out above the red lines. My body existed far away from physical

equilibrium, which the sucking cold made clear, balancing my heat source with the

OmniSink. Whenever I step outside into the cold, I feel nature balancing my body by

sucking out my heat energy. The whole universe desires my energy.

Another Omny message from Rob read my mind. “Three years ago you killed his

clone double or look-alike. Smile my friend, for the Psycho Killer Penguin army,

followers of Pink Hippo, soon joins you. I come with phorce, a million warriors of light.

Katabaz will not harm a hair on your head.”

A master of self-deception, Katabaz stayed alive through formlessness and

surprise. Perhaps that’s why he was dangerous. He fooled me as he fooled my father.

Even after all I had learned about the chaotic trickery of the man with endless evil

personalities, I could not anticipate everything, especially a look alike clone.

I checked at my companions, all occupied by their current conversations. No one

seemed to notice my extended silence, except Isabella, who tapped my leg sub-table.

I thought to myself, “Stop thinking painfully and get pumped for the Texas game

tomorrow. Give this fox Isabella some attention. She deserves it- she’s in college at the

OmniVersity. Might as well enjoy the momentary peace as you prepare for battle.”

I hadn’t even emptied my first drink special, a good thing, as deadly was dulled

senses around the MPDeity named Katabaz Adrahem Theodix.

I decided to keep my eyes open and Beta looked over at me and I knew he had

gotten Rob’s message on his Omny too. Checking into the Omny’s DomeBar’s security


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video systems, I confirmed Katabaz’s immediate absence. Something told me I wouldn’t

have to wait long for an encounter with the evil carerrorist armies of Katabaz.

Lucy interrupted my thoughts, “Mr. Merica, I desire to know about the OmniTect.

I started the OmniTect spiel: “Now that I can speak about. Well, as I’m sure you

know, people used to spread diseases indiscriminately, because of ignorance and archaic

testing methods. OmniTect instantly reduces bodily health ignorance, through an ultra-

sensitive body substance analysis. Just pour in saliva (or any other bodily liquid) into the

input funnel, wait ten minutes and read the results on Omny. Both portable and

permanent versions of OmniTect are extremely effective. OmniTect tests for all known

diseases. SpoTilm’s introduction of OmniTect has eliminated the spread of many

diseases.

Lucy said, “Alpha have I a story for you! Last weekend my friend invited a good-

looking stranger into her OmniPod. Good thing she remembered to test him with her

portable OmniTect! They were drinking malt liquor. He attempted kissing her on the ride

home, but she wouldn’t. OmniTect told her the guy had herpes.”

“Ewww, isn’t herpes a wart virus…?” The group groaned. Sexually transmitted

diseases had become a thing of the past with commercial tests like OmniTect.

Lucy continued, “Yes, turns out the guy had Simplex I, normally the fever blister

type, but still, my friend is very thankful for SpoTilm’s OmniTect portable version, and

bought some for her girlfriends and myself.“

When OmniTect first hit the market twenty years ago, the media brewed a moral

controversy, accusing SpoTilm of encouraging immoral behavior with this point-of-care

(POC) medical tool, essentially a lab on a chip (LOC). Yet over the following years,


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knowledge eventually won over ignorance. People eventually choose against taking

stupid chances when dealing with deadly diseases and your Mody, the most valued

possession.

I grew tired of the pounding bass on the first floor. The space was packed around

the automatic UServe center column stations. I took Isabella away from the group up to

the second level of the DOME Bar. Through the clear steps smiled an unbroken

hydroponic mesh of flowers: roses, lilacs, lilies, daisies, magnolias, poppies, marigolds,

petunias, tulips, orchids, and carnations. The active holo-display walls highlighted

today’s top eleven plays on the right wall and showcased the Canary Islands on the left

wall. Out of Omny-curiosity, I switched their channels to cartoons. Wow, that was easy.

But I didn’t slow my pace of stair climbing. Even though I am a movie producer, I never

was much for holo-videos.

The smaller second floor featured seven themed sections with personal service for

customers who wanted beautiful people to serve them automatically poured drinks. An

server handed Alpha the list of the seven themes: Club Dance, SpuBorts, Good Grub, G

Dub, SPORT (Hunergic Generation), Tropical Beach Island, and Aquaponics .

Feeling Antsy in my Pantsy, I found my identity time split the opening of the

door. The second floor for ten seconds had already tired my mind. Time to level up. My

Omny buzzed the elevator door and we rode the VIP’s elevator to the top level. The top

level was the transparent Very Important Pyramid, capping the dome base of the DOME

Bar. The VIPyramid was the apex seen far away from the Dome Bar.

It offered a great view of the O’sotangy River’s moonlight ripples. Jesse told me

his microbiology class found fecal coliforms in the river. I’m not sure what those are, but


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they sound like a great snack, eh? OmniPlane helical spiral turbines Omny synchro-blah

blah blahblahblah…” I wasn’t making much sense at the moment.

Then I felt my mouth watering about the succulent berries available from the

amazing hydroponic gardens on the second floor. I snapped out of my hypnosis. In my

head, I yelled at myself. What the heck is up with you Alpha? You’ve been fine since you

“killed” Katabaz three years ago. Are you getting afraid because your violent enemy isn’t

dead? No, I bet you are just excited to clash thought-phorms. Katabaz epitomized evil,

and it felt great to be the good cop. The tree of amity must be watered with the sweat of

heroes and the blood of criminals.

Breathe, Alpha, Breathe…

Inhale, now pause, and exhale. Faith in, Fear out, Faith in…Inhale pause exhale

Let’s try Eastern… Sooo Hammmm SoooHEMM Oh man, I party home. This

meditative breathing from the bottom of my stomach raised my spirits. We rode the

elevator downstairs into the basement level of the DOME BAR, which kissed the river

surface. The riverbanks supported lush foliage, a different world than the chunky stagnant

film covering the Olentangy River in my OSU student years. Through securely

sustainable transportation and symbiotic integration with ecological systems, OmniGrid

ensured a heavenly economic environment. OmniGrid integrates the three economic

Functions: Production, Transfer, and regeneration. As Adam Sticks knows, it is all about

logistics in this world of OmnErgy.

Isabella pointed to a sleek black two-seater OmniPlane. We took off north down

the OT River in the OmniPlane, when I triggered the helical turbines and we lifted into

the air.


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Isabella screamed and I smiled. It had only been a few days since I had flown an

air car during the final days of filming for the OmniReality Show, launched from a

SpoTilm floating island anchored near Malakahari. Many companies competed for my

flying endorsement, to the point where I had this year tested the OmniPlane, OmniMan,

Flyomni, and Geomni. My favorite of all air cars was the OmniPlane from OmniElectric,

for its superior performance. Unlike OmniGrid clearance, obtaining an air car license

required the navigation of much red tape, not to mention effective flying skills. I could

tell personal airtime was not a common experience for Isabella, for white her face

became, as she clenched my side with both arms. The dark sky whizzed by the

windshield.

Emotions of a woman. The beautiful fertile soil fielded an enigma, which

resonated in the deepest crevices of my creatural nature. The sacred mystery of creation

mirrored in the cosmic reproductive cycle. Up and down we go, weaving in and out of

low clouds, which reminds me of cloud drinking trees and river-dipping bats. There I go

like my father, interrupting a story with chaotic dreams involving animated beings.

Looking back at the huge structures of the DOME bar, I noted the Fuller-inspired

tensegrital dome, using balanced tensions in the dome members. On top the dome lay a

pyramid capstone. The DOME Bar projected extensive OmniGrid connections to the rest

of the city of Columbus, especially Ohio State campus. Its power generating tentacles

stretched high into the sky to harvest wind flux fuel with thirty high-speed helical

turbines.

“Everything looks so small from up here. The birds really do look down at us.”

Isabella said.


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I retorted, “It gives you a bit of perspective, eh?”

“So tell me about the creation of OTI and SpoTilm. I also want to know about

Malakahari,” Isabella switched on her Omny AudioVideo recorder.

I blushed and smiled, “Of course, I only hope I can inspire many OSU students to

manifest their dreams. You sure you are up to this interview?”

“The Lantern will beg for this scoop. Usually we interview staff or students. You

are a legendary global businessman?”

One of my talents remained handling compliments well. I put the OmniPlane into

autopilot. We prepared for a Q&A session, “In his unpublished book, Manifespo, My

father described SPO as representing God’s omnipresent loving light energy in the world.

I borrowed SPO for OmniReality Show, representing the three key roles of Sustainer

Preserver and Operator.”

Isabella asked, “Explain SPO.”

“SPO is Solar Power Omni, representing the solar generation of life. Without the

nuclear fusion inside HelioSol hydrogen-erating helium, the TerraSol system would be

another dead rock stuck in a fiery furnace. Instead, life has capitalized on 3.7 billion years

of SoLighted experience to re-create syntropic pico-technological organizations relying

on Earth’s continual cyclical stability and elemental composition. Sporit is Solar Powered

OmniGrid of Renewable Integrated Networked Transportation.”

Who is God?

God is the answer to the seven fundamental living quest ions: Who How What

When Where Which & Why? He is EveryOne, EveryWay, EveryThing, EveryTime,


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EveryWhere, and EveryWhichOne EveryWhy. sHeIaM - the one from which all things

come. sHe is the ultimate mind, ultimate dream, ultimate idea, and ultimate creation.

“Okay, I’ll come back to that. Who is your father?” All my God talk scared

Isabella.

My father is David Alpha Spoey. His father is Joseph David Spoey, the first

businessman in the family lineage of doctors. My Grandpa, Joseph the Grand Poopah,

taught David the secrets of the universe. The Grand Poopah taught David each human

artfully created their own subjective world in their Mody (mind+body) passionate

perception. Poopah taught David the multi-leveled laws of the metaverse. In addition to

respect for all beings, Poopah emphasized Communicating Artistically, Learning

Scientifically, and Sustaining Value-Producing Organizations (Businesses).

Isabella asked, “Quite a Trinity. PsiArs sounds like the combination between

science and art. What the heck is PsiArs?”

I said, “You are quite right. Trinities figure essential in my personal philosophies.

The first dialectic is thesis, anti-thesis, and synthesis. The first complete polygon is the

universal triangulation- generation operation destruction. PsiArs represents the ideal

process of Omnology. PsiArs is Omnology’s teleology.”

Isabella: What?

Me: Grab onto my thought train. Can you picture Art as subjective Experience?

Isabella: Then all experience is Art?

Me: Yes, I communicate to you that message.

Isabella: So all subjective experience is art. Go on.

Me: Can you picture (PsioNz)? Psiontists know Knowledge (PSI-ILM).


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Isabella: Sure, Science is objective knowledge of the universe.

Me: The ancient word Scientia means knowing, which relies upon differentiation,

categorizing, and creative communication. Psi is the symbol for mind, and ILM is the

second most common word in the Koran, representing ‘nalej’ of our divine existence.

ILM also stands for Innovation & Lucidity Movement, another essential trinity.

Isabella recapped. “So first we must artfully communicate unified experience.

Next we scientifically categorize our experience into differentiated knowledge.”

Me: Good, so now we have categorized experience. Yet knowledge exists only inside

your mind. Categorized experience benefits no one, if you fail to employ your Artful

Experience and Scientific Knowledge, to build wealth.

To create sobjective value, we must integrate subjective experience and objective

knowledge; combining unified experience with differentiated knowledge to produce

social value for trade. Consider the following. We are subjective spiritual beings who

come to the knowledge of the objective material universe through consensual integration

of our subjective consciousness. So we find three values of intelligent consciousness:

subjective perceptual experience, objective memories of knowledge, and socially

sobjective value-creation. Connectively incomplete is any philosophy that denies the

importance of these dynamic relations.

Isabella recapped, “And there you have it folks: The Omnologic Trinity is Art,

Science, and PsiAr. Okay so you have art first, science second, and PsiArs as the

synthesis. But what is PsiArs, in layman’s terms?”

As I gazed down at the Oval through breaks in the clouds, I continued: “PsiArs

consists of organized individuals working to create social value. Most working people are


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PsiArs: engineers, doctors, lawyers, executives, educators, pretty much workers. We

automatically experience art, consciously learn science, and work to participate in PsiArs

Value Creation. Art requires Creativity, Science requires Objectivity, and PsiArs requires

Customers.”

Isabella looked confused. She tousled Alpha’s hair. “I’m officially confused.

Let’s get real and down-to-earth. Okay, I’ve heard enough of you waxing psycho-

philosophy for the moment. What is your personal philosophy? What guides your

interaction with other people?”

My personal Philosophy (Love of Wisdom) is Philanthropy (love of woMan).

Actually, I gleaned the nutmeat of my personal outlook from Kirstin Turowski, a wise

and beautiful movie star guru I met during my three years at OSU. On long runs along the

Olentangy River, she taught me the basics of Kirstianity, which posits the necessity of

complete self-love to achieve socially inclusive love. In other words, Kirstianity insists

on fully loving your true self, to respect those people who enter your experience parts of

your OmniSelf.”

Alpha paused and gazed out the window, but Isabella stayed aggressive. It seems

everywhere you go- everything goes the other way. You graduated from Ohio State in

three years. Do you have superpowers?

Well, I did earn a fantastic logistics and transportation degree from The Fischer

Business School at OSU. I took classes in the summer to graduate in three years, to focus

on SpoTilm. I guess I do have superpowers, just as you do. We have only the

supernatural powers given to us by the OmniCapitalist Eva herself. My secret is to realize

the latent potential inherent in each person’s Mody (mind+body). Most people are not


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confident their potential. They operate below 10% of their power. This myth is that we

use 10% of our brain- but that is wrong. We use all of our brain. The parts not used fall

weak, just as any muscle. Except the brain is the muscle of thought. Inside the brain,

dense metal balls flow across fat layers, producing coordinated nerve-shots that create

our perception. Many humans’ biggest fear is that they may be powerful beyond their

wildest dreams. We only manifest 10% of our potential power. The goal of my life is to

creatively deal with all situations. By believing in my passions, I have found success.

Before you graduate, I will provide the keys to survive in the real world after college. Not

some corny self-help book BS. My method uses intelligent free will to manipulate the

universe by harnessing your own modal (integrated mind+body) flame.

I sensed Isabella obviously growing bored with my metaphysical menu. I should

cut down on the monologues. I stopped talking and resumed control of the OmniPlane

from Omny autopilot. We had circled the air fluids of Columbus three times during our

Omnologic conversation.

She said, “Okay, to change gears a bit- do you have any enemies?

I wanted to tell her about my old enemy Katabaz and his many global phascist

guerrillas, but I didn’t want to scare her with Blackberry Tales of raw Katabaz.

“Ummm…Excuse me a second…” Omny had interrupted with a message from

Rob, the SpoTilm Marketing guru, and the leader of the Psycho Killer Penguin (PKP)

army: “I have arrived at the Dome Bar. Beta said you brought IsaFox into the sky. You

picked a fine time to take a joy ride. Don’t forget Katabaz could be here already. Is your

head okay?”


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How could I forget? I’ve spent my life battling Katabaz’s minions, human and

robotic. He claimed to have an unending source of power, which allowed him to tap into

the energetic fabric of the universe. I thought I had finally defeated him in a final

OmniPlane firefight, three years ago over the Statue of Liberty. Turns out I destroyed his

body double, one of Katabaz’s kamikaze henchmen..

Katabaz had tricked me once again, as he had tricked my father David and his

father Joseph. Katabaz took advantage of my biggest weakness in this generation-

spanning war: integrity. I didn’t think in strategic deception and tactical lies. Powerful

love generated my thought-riffs. I naturally loved everyone, for everyone is fighting a

losing battle. Why did Katabaz mess with the top-notch business model of SpoTilm?

Merely affirming goodness could not defeat the Carerrorists. To vanquish

Katabaz’s organizations, an alliance of the state must form, to stamp out phascist

carerrorism, wherever it lie. The OmniState must protect all citizens. I looked into

Isabella’s eyes, burning brown orbs floating amidst symmetrical flesh-curves, framed by

brunette locks: “Could we finish this interview later this weekend?”

“Don’t be silly! Of course we can Alpha. I know you have SpoTilm businessmen

coming into town. Let’s go rejoin the group and greet your visiting friends. I need time to

soak in the secret experience of our plane flight, so I may artfully communicate objective

knowledge to deliver sobjective value to my subjective audience at the Lantern.”

With the help of Omny, I glided the OmniPlane gently onto the Olentangy River

and returned to the basement dock below the Dome Bar.

We walked up the stairs to the first floor, where we found the group seated at

round table in a quiet corner. Beta and Rob entertained Isabella’s six roommates with


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tales of traveling between SpoTilm floating islands around the globe. Stories of their

diverse experiences entrained the girls’ attention.

Omny buzzed with a Text Message. The message read: “Yo Alpha, Its Brandon.

Number two or number one, this is a big game! Get over here to the Study Abroad Bar, I

need some company.” The telegram was from Brandon Stromper, my college buddy, now

an investment banker on the East Coast. Brandon flew into C-bus this weekend for the

Texas game.

I looked at the Omny-time: almost midnight. Spotting Beta’s fiery cap dancing

with the black Dagobert locks of Rob, above a group of seven Buckeye angels, I led them

out of the Dome Bar to the OmniGrid loading dock. Unsurprisingly, Rob had already

hailed us a extra-large OmniTaxi with his Omny keypad. Rob had the OmniMarket on

lockdown.

We climbed into the side door of the black OmniTaxi. I synchronized my Omny

with the OmniTaxi, and we accelerated from the Dome Bar dock onto the OmniGrid

lanes. Our OmniTaxi zoomed south along the river in slow speed lane at 40 mph, before

turning left onto 11th avenue, by the OSU campus hospital. I pressed the button to enter

the medium speed lane on my Omny, and the OmniTaxi responded on cue, and the

campus buildings blurred as we sped past them. The OmniTaxi decelerated and came to

rest at our second SpoTilm bar of the night: The Study Abroad Bar. Time of OmniGrid

Travel: Just over Two minutes. Dear God, how I loved the OmniGrid. No Transport

Worries. No stoplights, No traffic, No accidents, No pollution, No refueling, No noise,

No inebriation, No road kill, No parking hassles, No road rage, No stoplights, and No

friction.


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Through Omny’s OmniMarket application, I remote-ordered ten Study Abroad

specials, made of pomegranate, peach, and strawberry juice, and top-shelf rum. The

OmniTaxi door opened automatically once we reached the Study Abroad Bar’s dock,

located just above street level. Study Abroad Bar’s simple cylindrical exterior hid a

complex interior architecture. From the outside, SAB resembled a pen pointing towards

the sky. We walked up the foyer and through SAB’s entrance. Two smiling brunette

greeters opened the double doors for our group. So far, our service at SpoTilm’s bars had

satisfied me. Quickly I typed out a bonus to all SpoTilm managers. Omny beeped

pleasantly and sent notice to the SpoTilm managers.

A platinum blonde haired WeServe server greeted us with the tray filled with

remote-ordered SAB specials. Omny showed her name was Nina. I motioned for Nina to

follow us to the nearby triangular table at which Brandon Stromper sat. I tipped her

generously, and noticed she had an intense streak of red amidst her white blond hair.

She said, “Thanks Mr. Merica. Your presence is illuminating.”

I said, “Call me Alpha, milady. What’s your name?”

“My name is Nina. And this is my real hair. Most people think it is dyed.” Her

voice purred gently in the semicircular canals of my cochlea.

I felt spontaneous. “Well Nina, tonight we make history and tomorrow we win the

game. I think you should stop working and join our party.”

Nina blushed, her cheeks turning beet red. “Alpha, my manager Shalan is right

there. He would yell or even fire me. I need the tips here to pay for my tuition.”

I smiled. “I would fire your manager. Please…sit down. I’ll take care of

everything.”


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Behind me Isabella scoffed.

Stromper slapped my back, sarcastically interrupting my flirting, “Hey, Mr. Bag

of Fun, its great to see you too, Alpha! I just UServed myself a Guinness. I’m not a fan of

your fruity drinks anyway. Whoa, quite the hand shake Alpha, something on your mind?”

I shook his hand and replied, “Good, because the tenth special is for Nina. Please

make yourself comfortable my dear. You deserve a rest.” I pulled out an aero-chair for

her.

With only her left hand, Nina pulled off her conservative Study Abroad Bar

(SAB) attire, to reveal a terrifyingly attractive silky red two-piece. The girls whispered

scandal as Nina sat down at a point of the triangle table.

I motioned to the red-haired floor manager, Shalan, who waved frantically from

across the room. Then he sent me a hospitable message on Omny: “I am at your disposal,

Mr. Merica.” I checked out the Study Abroad Bar (SAB). I noted quite a difference

between experiencing SAB in person and through holo-video simulations. The Study

Abroad Bar had just opened this year. Already it enjoyed record sales.

What the Study Abroad Bar lacked in riparian feel, it compensated with elaborate

colored glass structures, lending a divine essence for direct experience. The Study

Abroad Bar consisted of ten doughnut shaped floors; ten stories in a huge colored and

clear glass cylinder, topped by a gold adorned conical pyramid. In contrast to the

tetrahedral pyramid on top The Dome Bar. It so happens that my favorite architect from

Ohio State, Marija, also designed The SAB’s architecture.

A crowd of bobbing heads swarmed around the UServe stations of the center

auto-drink column. The people who wanted instant service helped themselves at UServe.


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Those who preferred the human element received attentive service from the WeServe

staff, bringing joy to customers standing, dancing or sitting at long comfortable tables.

Shalan advanced to the center of the floor and switched on his Omny Mic, playing

the role of MC, “LADIES and GENTLEMEN, we are blessed with the presence of four

SpoTilm founders visiting our lovely Study Abroad Bar. Come show your gratitude to

these men and their stunning student guests for building this amazing gathering place, the

main reason you all enjoy Omni State University.”

Some people had already recognized us, watching as SpoTilm executives dined

with a group of seven coeds. But Shalan’s announcements catalyzed a substantial crowd.

Brandon switched on his Omny’s pocket holographic projector. Soon the air came alive

with white swans, green frogs, and sophisticated samurais sipping champagne. Rob

contributed miniature pink hippos to the holographic dance. Then Rob added psychotic

penguins wielding various blades to his pink hippo choreography. I felt young again,

visualizing old memories of my college days on Omni State campus.

Most people in Ohio weren’t used to these simple illusions. Rob and Brandon

turned the show up a notch, initiating a death match between samurai monkeys on pink

hippo cavalry and techno-birds wielding laser rifles. A small crowd surrounded our large

triangular table. The crowd shrieked in fright, but couldn’t close their eyes to the visual

illusions. Such realistic holographic projections convinced me to implicate David Bohn’s

OmniOrder, to grok the OmniTruth of the one OmniSelf. Illusion is not the final truth.

What isn’t true? Everything is Absolutely Occurring at this very moment, regardless of

when we perceive an occurrence. In lettered papers we hold the past, in thought we

navigate the present, and in active speech we create in the eternal future. Laugh. The


111

universe chuckles along with you. Your mirror neurons trigger your brain’s motor control

areas to anticipate laughter. Don’t tell me you have all the answers. These thoughts are

not my own. I didn’t create any of these forms or functions. I delight in working with

what I have. I am completely enmeshed in the human society created by my mirror

neurons. I love that it will outlast me. Neuro-Linguistic Programming frames your

thought-words is today’s rhetoric 101. By the time you understand and reject the sentence

detailing the thesis that everything is the future, it will already be the future, and your

rejections fading.

Isabella grimaced at me and motioned with her eyes. I escorted her away from the

group. I noticed Nina shuffling her body position, pretending to avoid my focus. Body

language speaks volumes more than small talk. She liked me already? Alpha, you haven’t

lost it yet. I must remember to call the Grand Poopah, to thank him for durable jeans.

Isabella stared into my eyes, “Beta told me about the carerrorist leader Katabaz.

Why didn’t you tell me before?”

I replied, “My dear Isabella. I didn’t want to scare you. You needn’t worry.”

I hated bringing negativity to those I loved the most, unlike my father David

Spoey. He only brought negativity to those he loved. Sometimes I thought he liked to

share his enjoyment of pain and Cash at Folsom. I wanted to spare her mental anguish or

anxiety.

Isabella puffed her chest. “I’ll never be afraid with you.”

My heart jumped to hear her foolish faith. Then my thoughts reversed, and I

cognitively cringed at the danger which I, Alpha Merica, attracted. I imagined thousand

of sea snakes ripping at a whale carcass. What a dork. It was now too late to separate. I


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hid my anxiety and followed Isabella. Walking casually to the elevator, Isabella chose the

creativity floor with a doughnut-shaped layout, decked out in fractals spirals of black and

white. Reaching the seventh floor, I marveled at its emptiness.

We chose the room of the unconscious, lit with ultraviolet lamps and neon signs.

Isabella grabbed the knotted wooden creativity stick, and rubbed its amethyst crystal with

her thumb. She smiled at me, and closed her eyes.

Isabella channeled words not her own, “Thank you for being here. You could be

here anywhere in the world, but you choose to be with me. I appreciate that. Of the fifty

thousand Omny-connected OSU students in this ArboReal OmniVersity of soul

connections, of all those whose presence you could enlighten, you chose mine. For your

temporal investment, I am eternally indebted. Let’s concentrate on the positive. I want

you to find balance. I want you to realize the material world is ruled by the work of

physical force by spo-ritual beings. Preservative genetic and environmental evolution-

four billions of years of trial and error; of biological technology, until we, the techno-

sapiens, the techno-angels, we shall remember the light of HelioSol as he fuels our ascent

through the struggles to the stars. Physical evolution is the OmniCapitalist In-form-ation

intelligently generating the eternal interaction of the Chemical Mass and Physical

Omnergy, to optimize iME transport. Information must have a physical carrier. Human

Evolution is optimizing PIME transport, bettering the movement of People’s

InfoMassErgy.”

Interrupting her hypnotic thought jam, I yelled, “WHO ARE YOU?”

Isabella blinked and said, “What happened?” She rubbed her head gingerly. I had

broken the mind spell controlling her thoughts


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I said nothing but I grabbed a long purple crystal wand from the floor. I allowed

my inhalation to reach deep into my bowels, pausing meditatively before exhaling.

Soo…Hamm…OM… AUM…All is One…This place in my soul, how to splash this

scene in black and white from the colors of this world, could I capture this place in

colored OmniText, meaning curves moving categories simultaneously frozen in the page

of my mind. Our best social technology is symbols; lines and curves; geometrical forms;

these human created forms; our descendents’ marks. Through physical evolution of

biological technology, we have accumulated billions of years of social technology,

starting from the most primitive organisms such as the virus and the bacterium,

progressing through plants, reptiles, mammals, birds, primates, farmers, techno-monkeys,

techno-sapiens, until today as techno-spirits, we share half of our biological firmware

with relatively basic life forms. This is why we can switch organs between species in a

xenograft, and they still function. We are the only species with technology, especially this

symbolic language, which when combined with mathematics, can save the world through

optimizing translations. Bits of their organization inside our being, I sit and wonder

about the OmniStory. I shall reveal now the secret The Eleventh Commandment, which

proves the dynamic OmniGenius of Eva the OmniCapitalist.

11. Thou Shall Never be the Same, Again.

As manifested by the behavior of this universe in this fuzzy second…the

OmniSelf is constantly changing, however subtly. We maintain a stable sense of self

amidst a universe of pulsing OmniSelf. The room is warm with our energy. Curly Carrie

said one thing I remember, the most important relationship you have is the one with


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yourself, or selves, if you used the dangerous carerrorist model of formless personalities.

Whence comes this sock monster?

Intrigued as I had been by her free associations, Isabella jolted me out of hypnotic

mind-flow, throwing the purple wand across the dark empty room. Instead of shattering,

the floor seemed to swallow it. It disintegrated into purple specks before dissolving into

thin air. Isabella touched my arm gently. “Okay I’m tired of this nonsensical room. I

can’t remember a darn thing we said. It’s a good thing Omny recorded it. Let’s go into

the interview room, on the other side of the writing floor number seven.”

I assented, “A Splendid Idea, Madam. Let’s finish our interrupted OmniPlane

conversation.”

“WEEOOP! WEEOOP!”

My Omny wailed twice as it unleashed two targeted protective energy pulses.

Isabella screamed as the pulses swiftly annihilated two incoming Bat-Bots. Their dust

flecks wafted through the air, smelling like burnt plastic with a faint smell of poison.

My first thought: “Katabaz can’t be on this floor!” Omny confirmed his

immediate absence with a thermal scan.

My second thought: “Katabaz knows we’re here. How kind of him to say hello.

Anyone in the crowd could have tipped him off. I reviewed on Omny the body language

of everyone in the place. I suspected the over-eager first floor manager, Shalan. On the

holo-video memory, Omny pinpointed his nervous body language. Shalan had also called

undue attention to us, purposely distracting us.”

Omny wailed again, this time alerts from Rob and B on the first floor: “We just

annihilated about thirty Octopids. Get down here!”


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One of Katabaz’s favorite war-bots, Octopids resembled the black widow spider,

Octopids featured deadly spinning blades on each of eight legs, a fearsome scythe

arachnid.

“Isabella, it seems our interview must be postponed once again,” I lamented.

Stricken white with fear she followed me into the elevator and we zoomed toward

sea level. Never in her life had she experienced firsthand the violence of Katabaz’s

global guerrillas, who called themselves carerrorists or pheral techno-monkeys.

Exiting the elevator, Isabella ran into the arms of the other sobbing girls. No one

had been seriously injured by the Octopid swarm, which had blasted through the front

doors. Rob and Brandon handled the ambush like professional fighters. Shalan slipped

out during the melee, rightly anticipating our suspicion. The Study Abroad Bar was

Shalan’s domain. We needed to find out why he had betrayed us. Only he could have

allowed those Bat-Bots to infest the creativity floor.

While we stood debating our next move, our Omnys beeped with an urgent

message from Randy Sandwise: “We are knee-deep in swarms of bat-bots. I heard you

were in town. Come help clean up Fratacon.”

Randy Sandwise, recently returned from vacationing in Italy, managed the

automatic OmniBar establishment called Fratacon, easily the most popular campus bar.

We couldn’t risk taking an unsecured OmniTaxi. Rob and Beta volunteered to

stay in the Study Abroad Bar with the seven girls, while B and myself walked to inspect

Fratacon. As I trusted them with my life, I trusted them to protect Isabella and company.

I joked as we walked out the basement side doors, under the OmniGrid dock.

“Here it is folks, the final triumph of the Judeo-Christian Alliance. What a good movie.”


116

Brandon smiled, “You are way too cheesy Alpha. Be glad I have my OmniGun.”

He lifted his tail to flash his sleek weapon capable of multiple firing options.

We walked along High Street under the OmniGrid, surrounded by pedestrians of

the full moonlit night. I pointed up at the lanes of OmniPods whizzing by overhead on

the OmniGrid: “I need my armored OmniPod. Walking is too slow right now.”

Through my Omny I hailed my OmniPod at Isabella’s house and directed it to

meet us at Fratacon, now only three blocks away at the intersection of 15th and High

Street. I recalled 4 Kegs, its legendary predecessor. Fratacon maintained the age-old

tradition of Kegs and Eggs on Game Day Saturdays, without the annoying lines and

ridiculous crowding caused by 4 Kegs’ pitiful layout.

Now Fratacon stood before us, resembling a seven-story fraternity house, down to

the brick exterior and bay windows. The three Greek letters shined in neon lettering: Psi

Phi Delta. A butchered English translation of these three letters is to know balanced

change. We knew the change agents of Katabaz could be anywhere. Both of our Modys

and Omnys focused the full power of our attention on potential problems.

I didn’t see any abnormalities on the first floor, just lots of dancing and drinking

people. I saw plenty of activity at the central auto-drink dispensing columns, especially

the UServe stations. I noticed many well-dressed college guys at the UServe stations,

many returning with trays of colorful liquids to feed their female targets. Into my mind

popped a distant memory of my father David ranting about the dangers of too much

alcohol. He said it eliminated Man’s thinking faculties, and reduced us to techno-

monkeys. Okay, I am glad that worthless thought train had crashed, as painful to create as


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it was to read. Still, I thank Eva for my unique differences, because differentials sustain

this world of OmniChange.

In the throbbing mass of the first floor, I spotted Shalan’s SpoTilm shirt amid his

bright red hair and spindly legs as he walked along the bar. Obviously he wasn’t too

bright. I approached closer. My Omny calibrated and shot a miniscule PharmaDart at his

neck. Shalan slumped to the floor like a bag of drunken potatoes. Those around him

guffawed with ridiculous laughter. I walked over to take care of him. Omny dialed

emergency services and we saw the reflections of the silent OmniGrid sirens.

Scanning Shalan’s body for K-bugs with Omny, I found one toothpick sized bug,

buried in the hair on the back of his neck. I applied some local anesthetic (pain-killer) and

removed the flesh colored K-chip. Poor guy, Katabaz had gotten control of him with

mind-virus technology. I credited Shalan’s account with ten grand for his hard work.

“Take the month off buddy, take a free GRINT over to Malakahari. I hated seeing my

employees get injured on the front lines of life. I said a prayer to the OmniCapitalist to

thank her for Shalan’s well being. Usually encounter s with KataBastired ended in

tragedy. Katabaz valued death more than life. Most of the carerrorists were OmNihilists,

believing All mattered Naught. The OmNihilists believed we were merely meat golems-

bags of chemicals. The OmNihilists’ natural enemies were the People on SpoTilm’s

team, who were mostly OmniScientists. OmniScientists desire to maximize their

knowledge of the OmniCapitalist. We believe everything matters. The OmniScientists

fight to create good information for the OmniCorporation of the OmniCapitalist.


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Brandon joined me at Shalan’s motionless Mody but breathing body. We carried

Shalan outside to the OmniGrid dock, and slid him into an air-cushioned OmniTaxi,

which sped him to the OSU hospital in less than two minutes.

Omny beeped, “Shalan has arrived at the hospital.”

I thought aloud, “Thanks Omny. I’m glad he’s okay. I knew there was a logical

reason for his betrayal.”

Brandon fumed, “I want to fight Katabaz, not his death-tech. Only a coward hides

behind metal spiders!”

The first floor live band played a fusion of jazzy blues and slick electronic rock. A

spinning red white and blue holographic display illustrated the band’s name, The

American Exports. American Exports had absolutely nothing on my favorite college

band, The American Imports. The scales of the Imports’ driving beat forced everyone on

the first floor to bob their heads.

“Wait, a minute. Didn’t Randy say Fratacon was filled with k-bots? The first

floors are clear.” I said checking out the entrancing beauty of scantily clad female

revelers. They grouped around loud-talking heads on top of pastel-colored polo shirts. I

started to dance, but Brandon slapped my forehead and motioned towards the center

column elevator. It figures that Katabaz would ruin my first Columbus football vacation

in three years.

As if on cue, the elevator opened to pour out black smoke, parted by the main

man, Randy Sandwise. As the smoke cleared I could see the remains of K-bots on the

elevator floor. I checked the time. By now it was 2 AM, and the Fratacon scene was

really heating up. Brandon grabbed Frandy, “What happened up there?”


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Randy obliged us with his story: “I had blocked off the VIP for cleaning and was

taking a twenty minute nap when I awoke to Omny fighting K-bots, so I ran into to the

elevator. Then three K-bots jumped out of the elevator ceiling. I don’t get it, man! They

emerged from nowhere. Katabaz must be using some kind of shielding technology. I

can’t figure it out.”

My Omny interrupted Randy with a message from Beta and Rob at the Study

Abroad Bar. A holo-video message, it showed a looped videotape illustrating Kroda’s

capture.

Beta’s voice spoke through Omny speakers, “Good news friends. We captured

Kroda. I spotted his string-bean body sneaking into an OmniTaxi through a side

OmniGrid dock. You know what that means. Where there is Kroda, there is Kupa. We

tied Kroda up with unbreakable carbon fiber, and sent him to the Police station in an

OmniTaxi. According to the information we extracted from Kroda, Katabaz won’t arrive

to Columbus until later tomorrow. Apparently he’s been hiding on a distant island in the

Indian Ocean, preparing a final deadly performance. Alpha, I’m not really worried about

Kupa- she’s a has-been. However we must finish Katabaz off for good this time. He’s

done enough damage to this beautiful world.” Beta paused and I could hear him breathing

hard and shallow.

Through Omny, I responded to Beta, “Splendid work, Brother. After we eliminate

the remaining threat, Kupa, we must rest for the big day tomorrow. Katabaz isn’t in

Columbus yet. Apparently these two hell-bound heathens are responsible for these

ridiculous hordes of death-bots.”


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I sent another message. “Beta, Keep your eyes open and Omny connected. I

expect the Kupa will soon expose herself. She won’t remain motionless with her lover

Kroda incarcerated. I predict she will attempt to distract us, while she springs her hubby

from the police tower two blocks down High Street. Let’s make our way there.”

Omny announced the stroke of 3 AM. My how this night had whizzed by. I

longed to be at Isabella’s table eating pasta. I am stone sober on a Friday night fighting

the frightful freight of Katabaz.

B grabbed my shoulder and pointed to the front door, “My Omny shows a

hijacked OmniPlane, aiming its path at these doors of Fratacon.”

I responded, my body pumping with adrenalin. “Okay, let’s take care of the UFO

quickly and advance to the police tower. I’m sure Kupa will be there. The police aren’t

accustomed to such explosive evil. Around campus they deal with drunks and petty

theft.”

By this time, Randy had activated Fratacon’s security systems and cleared the

first floor, securing the patrons on the upper floors.

I heard the increasing pitch of the approaching renegade OmniPlane. It started in

our vision as a small dot, flying under the OMNIGRID integrated transport dock, then

crashing through the first set of shock resistant front doors. Fratacon fell under attack for

the second time this hour.

A massive swarm of Octopids poured out of the ripped OmniPlane, slicing into

the security doors with dark blue lasers. Randy fired Fratacon’s security pulses. The

electric energy pulses didn’t affect the Octopids.

“They’ve got EMP shielding!” I yelled over the melee.


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The Octopids melted human sized hole and pushed through into the first floor. My

Omny counted 42 Octopids, each one with eight spindly scythe legs. I had seen too many

limbs lost through close encounters with an Octopid. These Octopids directed violet laser

pulses towards Randy, Brandon and I, which splashed into the walls, dripping molten

with thermal energy. We held our ground and waited until they had advanced closer to

our secure positions. Once I could hear their metal blades clinking, I triggered a barrage

of diamond-tipped titanium bullets from the barrels of Fratacon’s security system.

“Dcha Doch doch doch doch” The first wave of Octopids slumped to the floor,

felled by bullet holes glowing red. Another wave of Octopids emerged through the door

hole and melted shut Fratacon’s security barrels with their laser pulses.

I screamed, “Break out the metal zephyrs!” We withdrew our pistols and

unleashed another titanium barrage, mowing down all of the remaining sinister spider-

bots. I cursed the insidious entities relying on mechanical systems to fight their battles in

proxy, although I understood their cowardice. I wouldn’t want to fight me either. Hell

hath no fury like carerrorists hating on my business model.

Feeling courageous, I advanced into the smoldering ruins of the large OmniPlane.

Everything looked clear and I thought we had earned calmness. I grinned back at

Brandon and Randy.

Suddenly a hidden trapdoor opened above my head. A stream of bat-bots

emerged. As I ducked and closed my eyes, my Omny automatically fired a protective

EMP shield. I could do nothing now but trust Omny’s Security Systems. Hearing

successive crashes as the bat-bots collapsed to the floor, I smiled. Omny’s smart electric

pulses had worked to fry these unshielded bat-bots. A Bat-Bot crashed on my head,


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which was fortunately protected by a carbon fiber aero-helmet. For all goodness and life,

I roared from the bottom of my lungs, until I could actually hear myself amidst the

ruckus.

The noise ceased and I opened my eyes; surrounded by mechanical corpses of

destructive machines; systems with no open options; entities fated to follow their

malicious programming. But I have the phree will of a techno-spirit. And so do you. You

could stop reading because I substitute ‘ph’ for ‘f.’ We have a choice. Every time, I

choose life, as sure as the ocean breathes salty.

My Omny buzzed with a voice message from the police chief, Chip Curry. “Two

of my men caught Kupa slinking around above our OmniGrid dock. They surprised her

with our sticky-web polymer gun. Kupa now inhabits one of our cozy cells, like her

boyfriend Kroda. She acted threatening and violent, thrashing and cursing in our polymer

web. After that demonic show, we put her on suicide watch. Thanks for the heads up,

Alpha.”

Brandon and myself walk out of the Fratacon and onto its OmniGrid dock. My

armored OmniPod arrives on cue. Its doors open and Randy and Brandon follow me in.

Omny directs back to the Study Abroad Bar. High street buildings blur as we glide

through the slow OmniGrid lane. We pull up to the Study Abroad Bar dock, and Isabella

and her roommates emerge from the front door of the huge cylinder building. They are all

silent, with makeup trails on their faces. Death bots had never before attacked these

innocent ladies. They saw holo-videos of carerrorist attacks, gasping at the carnage

caused by death-bots. But those things happened only on holo-vision, so they thought. At

the sight of Alpha Merica, the girls managed to stifle their fearful whimpering.


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Isabella runs to rest onto my shoulders and whispers, “Let’s go home.”

We finally arrived home at 4:20 AM. Brandon, Beta, and Rob conked out,

exhausted from the long day of travel and entertainment. I attempted to get some shut-

eye, to no avail. My body had entered adrenalin withdrawal. My headache refused to

leave my compacted cranium. I sat eyes wide open watching Isabella’s Mody expand to

absorb take in the sacred spark. The life-giving oxygen allowed our bodies to break down

glucose into sugar. The inevitable cost of breathing is our rust, like the brown surface of

new apple slices. Oxygen catalyzes chemical changes, but breathing it preserves modal

stability. I couldn’t stop my mind from picturing the face of Katabaz Theodix, his beady

eyes and thin eyebrows framed by blood-red streaked black hair. I shuddered to think of

the horrific pain he had inflicted on my family throughout my life. Such evil, I wondered

if absolute justice allows for absolutely cruel beings? Katabaz’s sinister laugh invaded

my head and I sprung up from the ultra comfortable hydrogel bed. I needed fresh air to

purge these negative thoughts. I walked outside to find Randy reclining on the third floor

greenhouse porch in an aero-chair, gazing at the coming dawn in the east.

I pulled an aero-chair next to Randy and we sat in comfortable silence soaking in

the predawn aura. A periodic stream of OmniPods zoomed along the OmniGrid tracks. A

steady stream of Good-Pods flowed through Insta-Tubes alongside the OmniPod

pathways. The OmniGrid employed no intersections, only securely separated paths in an

integrated transport system. Columbus had elected to put much of its OmniGrid

infrastructure aboveground. In contrast many cities had decided to put all transport


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underground, to increase usable aboveground space. I enjoyed observing the beautiful

transport of PIME- people’s InfoMassErgy.

I looked over at Frandy, “You want some berries?”

He replied, “Yeah chief, that would hit the spot right about now.”

On my Omny I entered the GookiZon Virtual Grocery, and selected a berry

medley with two ice waters. Within two minutes the Insta-Tube dock beeped for an

arrival. I removed the clear container, a berry medley replete with strawberry, raspberry,

blackberry, and blueberry compartments. The berry plethora sweetened the panoply of

thoughts bombarding my brain. Each druplet splashed delightful juice on my tongue’s

papillae. We gobbled the medley in ten minutes, and I threw the polymer container into

one of the house’s trash tubes, which carried all waste to special Omni-Startech plants for

molecular dissociation and productive regeneration.

Then I remembered the huge Buckeye game. Ranked #1 in the country, the

Buckeyes faced the #2 Texas Longhorns away in Austin, Texas. I considered the best

place to watch the game, prepared for Katabaz’s arrival.

“Where did you want to watch the game?” Randy asked.

Synchronicity. “Did you just read my mind Frandy?”

He just smiled cunningly, “No just your subtle expressions.” He pulled out his

FraSpo, one of Omny’s competitors in the OmniPDA market.

By now Sol’s amber glow crept above Terra’s cyan horizon. I thanked God for

another day of life in this wondrous playful game of swirling substances showing locally

in the TerraSoLunar System, orbiting the center of the Milky Way Galaxy once every

200 million years.


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Isabella arose at 7 AM and found Randy and I snoozing on the third floor porch,

surrounded by plants binding solar energy for us time binding humans. I dreamt of my

father’s loving dog Verdel, my favorite space-binder. Even Isabella’s cautious tiptoes

awakened my light sleep, although Randy snored quietly.

She gently stroked my forehead. Her touch instantly rejuvenated my tired Mody.

She whispered, “Let’s go running. I want to finish our interview before Katabaz arrives.”

I liked nothing better than an early morning run, especially with an exquisite

female specimen as Isabella. I felt sparks of pleasure as she scratched and pulled my hair.

At that moment I realized she loved me much more than a friend. This feeling I ignored

for now. I attempted to mask my realization, by sending her positive energy. She sat

down on my aero-chair and reclined against my chest. In absolute truth, our relations

could not remain platonic for long. Everything happens for the OmniLogical Reason. If I

am meant to be with her, it shall happen.

Her brown orbs plowed my fertile eyes. I blinked and she gave me a wink. They

say non-verbal communication is most of human interaction, just as most experience is

subconscious. If we had to think about everything, we’d go crazy. Trust me, I’ve tried.

She stood up and said, “Let’s go before campus gets packed for the game. We’ll have a

nutritious breakfast afterwards.”

I walked across the floor to the OmniPod parked in the OmniGrid dock. I changed

quickly in the bathroom after grabbing my Ohio State sport shorts, padded socks, and

ultra-light running shoes from my OmniPod trunk.

We walked to the ground level, down the fragrant cedar stairs, surrounded by

transparent walls of automated aquaponic bio-modules. These bio-modules showed a


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variety of fibrous plants, flowers, fruits, vegetables, small trees, and vines. Isabella

unlocked the front door with her Omny and we entered the new day, our Earth still burnt

by the turning wheel in the sky. We walked under her house’s OmniGrid ramp. We were

on Lane Avenue, below the OmniGrid layers. I remembered when Lane Avenue had been

a two-lane road filled with cars. Now Lane carried three lanes of automobile traffic in

both directions, along with freight, goods, water, energy, information, and of course,

trash.

“Run on top the OmniGrid or under it along the ground?” Isabella asked.

“You live here. I’ll follow your lead,” I responded.

We ran west along Lane Street towards High Street. The early solar rays soaked

my skin between the fractal shades of the centurion trees along the OmniGrid. Thinking

of my frictional college memories twenty years prior, I recreated the engine noises of

jam-packed traffic of urban assault vehicles floating on a rubber bubble of air, pedestrians

and bikers crossing chaotically, huge trucks blocking entire lanes, buses and semis

bullying the tiny urban assault vehicles, rotting squirrel carcasses, delicious smells of

burning gasoline, and broken glass bottles.

These centurion trees worked daily to suck in combustive carbon waste and pump

out oxygen. The OmniGrid system had ameliorated their air-cleaning task. OmniGrid

optimized the integration of essential transport (light, information, energy, goods, people,

water, and refuse). The serene ethics of securely efficient transport complemented the

natural camps aesthetic of The Ohio State University.

Jogging under the OmniGrid on High Street, Isabella looked over and stopped my

ruminative daydreaming. She switched on her Omny recorder. “Ready to begin the


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interview? I wonder if we can finish this time. Let’s start at your birth. You said you were

born on a remote tropical island somewhere off the coast of Venezuela. Did your father

David bring your mother Melinda there for a serene birth process?”

“No.” I paused for a minute of uncomfortable silence.

“Alpha, we can skip this part.”

“No, its fine. Actually, Katabaz brought my mother there, after she was pregnant

with me. I was born on September 11, 2002 on Osieta Island.”

“Huh? I thought Katabaz wanted to kill you.”

“He does now. One of the reasons is because I rejected his mental programming

and escaped from the island with Beta, Katabaz’s blood son.”

“Wait a second, why did Katabaz kidnap your mother?”

“It was part of his scheme for revenge against the Spoey family. Before Katabaz

became a carerrorist, he and my grandfather Joseph Spoey launched SpoKa, an automatic

liquid company. Unfortunately, Katabaz lost his wife and daughter in a horrific accident.

The grief destroyed Katabaz’s sanity. Katabaz went on a carerrorist road trip and has

been a wanted man since. After this happened in 1999, my grandfather took control of

SpoKa and renamed it SPOTI, standing for Solar Powered Omni Tropical Islands.

Katabaz was determined to profit from SPOTI. Katabaz escaped from prison, and

kidnapped my mother Melinda and father David, with the intent of blackmailing my

family. I was born on Osieta Island in 2002. Katabaz pretended to be my father. My

purpose was to produce power for Katabaz, while he held us hostage.”

Isabella gasped, “Oh My! Katabaz seems so devious.”


128

“Absolutely, but here’s the catch. Katabaz raised me as his son. He removed

Melinda from Osieta after I was a few weeks old. So, I thought my mother was dead and

Katabaz my father, until I escaped from Osieta in 2020. I had spent eighteen years on an

infested with Katabaz’s carerrorist henchmen, supposedly training to be a carerrorist

criminal. But in my heart I knew I was no criminal, and I suspected Katabaz of treachery.

Katabaz had no trouble recruiting carerrorists, promising huge profits from criminal

enterprises. One of Katabaz’s servant ladies-a young blonde named Nina- finally revealed

Katabaz’s patricidal deception. Easily I convinced Beta, who was born three years later

than myself, to escape Osieta during one of Katabaz’s month-long absences. Neither of

us had left the island. Beta and I took turns sneaking off each day to build a secret raft out

of poplar trees, assembling it with strong vines and plant fiber. We had no idea how far

we would have ride it, so we secretly hoarded survival supplies: two oars, lenses for solar

heating, fishing pole, knives, rope, dried berries, a compass, insulation for our bodies, and

a tiny solar water distiller.

Apparently Katabaz also held my parents captive, David and Melinda, in another

remote location. He threatened the Grand Poopah that he’d kill all of us, if he would not

relinquish 51% ownership of SpoTilm to Khain Spoey, Katabaz’s pseudonym. Of course

the Poopah gave Katabaz control of SpoTilm, because he loved his family even more

than his beloved business. Poopah knew Katabaz would lose this sick power trip of his.”

I stopped talking as we approached the Lane Bridge across the Olentangy River,

under the silently flowing OmniGrid layers. The breathtaking scenery triggered a feeling

of weightlessness. I smelled Indian summer in the air. I heard an OmniPlane in the

distance. I looked around at the early morning walkers, everyone endlessly boating


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through space and time. My legs seemed to float feet above the ground as my head

became a part of the sky. I think Isabella felt the same thing, with her eyes wide open and

legs pumping effortlessly. We ran onto the Olentangy Trail, proceeding south on the

asphalt trail along the river, covered endless birds resting on the water surface and in the

draped foliage.

I started talking again, “So after we built the raft and gathered supplies, we waited

patiently for Katabaz to leave the island again. We had no way of knowing where we

were located, as Katabaz forbade any communication devices on the island.

Isabella wondered aloud, “If you didn’t have any communication devices, how

did you learn as a child? Did you make your own music with coconuts and conch shells?”

“Actually I did nothing but learn as a child. What else is there to do on a desert

island but read in the palm tree shade? Katabaz had archived the OmniVersity for us, so

we could learn anything our heart and mind desired, but we couldn’t actively contact

anyone outside the island. Katabaz told us war ruined the whole planet, except for a few

remote islands. He convinced Beta and I that Osieta Island was the safest place to be,

and we believed him, until Nina, our kind female caretaker, revealed Katabaz’s

deception. At the time of our escape, I was eighteen years old, and Beta fifteen.”

We had maintained a good pace on the trail and had already passed the famous

Ohio State monuments- Morrill and Lincoln Towers, The Dome Bar, and the historic

HorseShoe Football Stadium. By now my skin was absorbing the incoming Phonergy

(solar energy).


130

Isabella looked over at me. “My God Alpha, this is unbelievable. Your past is

filled with mystery. Please don’t stop talking. Your words give me a head-rush. You have

experienced so much- my young Mody is overwhelmed.”

“Sure you’re not high from running? During cross-country exercise our

bloodstreams plug natural “heroin” keys in our opiate antenna-receptors, surging

euphoria through your fifty miles of neural tubes of fat and protein.”

“Umm…That sounds right, but please continue your story. You stopped mid-

escape.”

“That I can do. So Katabaz disappeared during the night, and we snuck out after

our caretakers fell asleep. We walked by moonlight to our hiding place, and dragged the

loaded raft into the water with a quiet splash. I watched our ripples expand outward, and I

remember at that moment the synergic epiphany about the complete openness of the

phuture. In that instant, the open opportunities resonated with my awareness of infinite

possibilities. I could literally create phuture beauty through logical choices expressed in

artistic style. In that moment arose my turbocharged optimism you might have noticed. I

lost all self-doubt, and vowed with a roaring will to prevail against all obstacles in this

ultimate game, seizing destiny by the jugular. I promised Beta and myself to work as a

slave, command as a king, and create like a god.”

Isabella said teasingly, “Gosh Alpha you are so hard on yourself- so pessimistic.

So did you want to find your true father?”

I looked her in the eyes. “Indeed, to find my true father was my first mission.”

Suddenly I stopped and dropped to the ground, doing rapid pushups,

concentrating. The world went up and down. Isabella stretched her legs. Finishing I


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noticed the flesh-symphony of her athletic body’s exquisite symmetry. Grateful for her

beauty of her holistic being, I managed to stomach the impulse to verbally communicate

the strength of my attraction. I intuited that she already knew.

I continued the story, “Beta and I took turns paddling furiously off the island,

working hard until dawn came and exhausted both of us. We gazed back at Osieta, now

just a green blip on the sunny blue horizon, topped by fluffy white clouds. As the current

swept us we gave up paddling and went with the oceanic flow. Beta feared we would be

swept out into the open ocean. Yet I reassured him. I trusted the watery desert, a

monstrous expanse to the limits of our perception. I remember recalling that water covers

two-thirds of the Earth surface, as it composes two-thirds of the human body.”

“Three days floated by. Our tiny solar distiller was producing amazing tasting

water. We had finished off our berry stash. I realized we had no bait for the fishing pole.

Mosquitoes emerged from tiny crevices in the raft logs. I smashed three in one hour,

some on my skin, some on Beta’s. Still I was not worried, and I stopped Beta from taking

a deadly plunge. I convinced him to nap with me under our insulation, to prevent

Phonergic burns. We awoke to the rocking of our raft. We heard a thunderstorm rumble,

heading our direction. Lightning struck nearby, blazing the dark air with sizzling

plasma.”

I paused for good measure, then continued: “Suddenly, in the distance I noticed a

brown speck approaching us. It came nearer. I could tell it was a boat, flying the

Venezuelan flag. We screamed at the top of our lungs, resisting the urge to jump up and

down. Luckily they weren’t pirates; just humble fishermen with GPS systems. They

scooped us out of the water and we watched our life-saving raft float away. As it turns


132

out we were actually floating away from the coast. These three fishermen were

transporting a full load back to the coast after over a week at sea. One of them named

Sago spoke perfect English. Sago joked that to take us aboard, they would have to dump

some of their catch. Beta and I immediately passed out on their small cot.”

“So these fishermen saved your life.”

“I believe they did.”

“Anyhoo, after two days’ journey we arrived in the harbor of Caracas-the capital

city of Venezuela. There Sago took us to the United States embassy. We checked

GooKiZon, the Information Trinity (find-learn-get), the OmniVersity, and the Global

Information System. It took a few minutes to locate birth and death records of Alpha and

Beta TheoDix. Katabaz had reported both of our births as sons of Melinda and himself.

The records said that both Beta and I died in a small plane crash with Melinda TheoDix

and David Spoey, whom the records referred to as our uncle. It said our last remaining

family member had died recently in Columbus, buried at Union Cemetery with 90,000

other departed souls. Since our official parents were American, we were officially

American citizens. The kind embassy officials booked us a one-stop flight to Columbus,

Ohio. After taking us out for dinner and trying on a change of stylish clothes, we fell

asleep on comfortable couches in the embassy lobby. They roused us early to catch a red-

eye flight stopping in Houston, Texas on the way to Columbus, Ohio. Back to the true

home of my OmniSelf.”

Isabella interrupted me. “So let me get this straight. Beta and you flew back to

Columbus to find your real family, on the first of September 2020. Did you have any clue

where to look? Did you have any money?”


133

“My intuition told me Melinda and David were my parents. On the plane I

checked GooKiZon-the Global Information System for information. It showed that David

had been a Psychology professor at Ohio State until 2002. Melinda had been a student at

Ohio State until 2002. Both had supposedly died in 2002 in our plane crash. The officials

had given us some cash and IDs, and had alerted the media to the arrival of two American

refugees. We dodged a crowd of cameras and ducked into a taxi on route to The Ohio

State University campus.”

“Once we arrived on High Street, I needed a haircut. My long blonde hair got in

the way of my face, sometimes entering my mouth while eating. And Beta definitely

needed a trim, his fiery waves of red hair resting on his shoulders. Walking North down

High Street, I bumped into a smiling man with spiked blonde hair and kind eyes. I told

him my search for the best haircut in town. With a warm grin he shooed us into his store,

Mug and Brush. His name was Jim Moriason. As gravity tugged our severed locks to the

floor, we told Jim the entire story of our captivity and escape. He listened carefully,

nodding and encouraging me to continue talking.”

“After he finished cutting our hair, before we could pay him he told us to wait a

second and he disappeared into a back room. He emerged with a black leather book

bound by a golden lock. The title, ‘Manifespo,” stood out, embroidered in silver letters.

Déjà vu swept over my Mody.”

“Jim looked piercingly into my eyes, and said, ‘You know for years I cut your old

man’s hair. I miss him dearly. The last time I saw him, eighteen years ago, he gave me

this book. He wouldn’t say anything except that I would know who give it to. I know that

person is you. I trust the syn-chroni-cities. And you have his nose.’”


134

“I looked at him in shock. I had so many questions. How did he know my father?

Who is my mother? And what is this SPO syllable in my father’s name and book?”

‘So Melinda is my mother?’ I stuttered.

‘Yes, I believe so Alpha,’ He replied.

“I stammered, ‘I need to go read this immediately.’ As I walked out the door, Jim

grabbed my shoulder and grinned. ‘If you need a place to crash, my wife Angela and I

have a nice pad close by.’”

“Next Beta and I walked to the registrar in University Hall, and enrolled in classes

at The Ohio State University for Autumn Quarter 2020. Just walking through campus I

was struck by its natural beauty. We stopped in the middle of the grassy Oval and

marveled at the elder trees guarding the picturesque place. Sitting down on a bench I

flipped to the first page of Manifespo and gazed at my father’s faded picture. I did

resemble him, except for his brown hair. I figured my mother, Melinda, must have

blonde hair. Under his picture, I read an intriguing handwritten caption: ‘Dedicated to the

Sun of GoD, Alpha and Omega. Through ethi-logical transport of the OmniGrid, you

shall manifest the OmniMarket in this OmniReality Show of the OmniPreneur.’”

I stopped the story to point at the swarm of geese along the river. Isabella chased

me down the bank through the majestic birds, their black beaks gaping. They hissed at

our intrusion, with sharp red tongues glistening in the morning light.

Isabella gasped for breath after our sprint. “Alpha, your stories enthrall me. My

life is small and insignificant compared to your forty years of experience. If I didn’t know

you personally, I might not believe your tales. Your reality might be stranger than any

fiction I’ve read.”


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I said jokingly, “You need a better reading list.”

We had run for five minutes since we passed over the 3rd Street Bridge.

Downtown Columbus loomed close to the southeast. I suggested we turn back to wake

our friends at Isabella’s house for a hearty breakfast.

Isabella broke the silence. “So you enrolled at OSU. Then you read the original

Manifespo manuscript on the sunny camps. What did it say?”

“Haha, well as it was such an lengthy text, I couldn’t summarize its 420 pages.

The strangest thing about the book was that Alpha Merica is the main hero. But it was

written before I was born. Apparently David had a mystical experience in which he

communicated with humans from the future. These short communications contained the

core message of Manifespo, which these future humans promised would save the

OmniMarket. In Manifespo, Alpha Merica powers the global Transport revolution for the

OmniCapitalist. The Transport Revolution is the third global revolution after the

Agricultural and Industrial, optimizing PIME transport on the OmniGrid.”

Isabella turned her head to me, “What’s the simple theme of Manifespo?”

I grimaced, not knowing how to answer that question after thousands of cycles.

“Social evolution is the optimization of people’s TIME Transport security.”

Isabella raised her eyebrows. “Hmm…that’s a bit dry, and completely opaque.

Try rewording it in common-speak.”

Okay, Isabella. Anything I will do for you. “Well, then here’s another Spo-

mantra. Right stuff, right place, right time.” Think complex and write easy.

“David used Manifespo to record his purpose, a revolutionary blueprint embedded

in stories of fictional characters. David believed he would soon meet a tragic end, but he


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refused to create fear and hate with his writings. The main goal of my father David was

helping people to control their TIME Transport. David believed in stable bonds. Just like

Rob my Lebanese friend, David believed words to the only magic legally accepted in the

world.”

“I spent childhood as Alpha Theodix, son of Katabaz Theodix. Jim called me

Alpha Spoey, my real name. Yet Manifespo named me Alpha Merica. My auto-

didacticism taught me naming is the beginning of wisdom. I autocratically decided on

Alpha Spoey Merica as my auto-poetic name.”

“So you, Alpha Spoey Merica, incorporated SpoTilm?”

“Well, SpoTi already existed as my grandfather’s company. Under the

pseudonym of Khain Spoey, Katabaz had stolen total ownership of SpoTilm from my

grandfather, The Grand Poopah Joseph Spoey. But my favorite barber, Jim Moriason,

hooked me up with Alizarim, dynamite attorney at law. Alizarim managed to convince

the judge to nullify the ownership transfer contract. The judge also issued a warrant for

the arrest of Katabaz Theodix for kidnapping and fraud. I thanked the judge for fulfilling

justice. He warned me to be careful of Katabaz’s vengeance. The judge had sentenced

Katabaz to the facilities of Tri Valley Behavioral Health Care (Ohio’s only prison for

criminally insane) back in 1999 for his carerroristic actions on his infamous road trip.”

Isabella “So you foiled Katabaz’s business fraud and stole his son Beta. No

wonder he wants to kill you.”

“Yes ma’am. But I didn’t yet tell you Beta was actually Katabaz’s blood son, born

of Melinda. How did your know?”

Isabella said confidently, “You taught me to trust my intuition.”


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I raised one eyebrow and responded, “I am so proud. So the judge had returned

Spoti to me. I hired Alizarim to switch Spoti to SpoTilm Incorporated. With the SpoTilm

capital, I purchased a historic former fraternity house on 16th and Indianola as the off-

campus SpoTilm base. A large house with over fifty rooms and a huge front lawn

stretching to Indianola, its basement connected to long underground tunnels from the 19th

century. Next I purchased a one hundred acre lot of corn and soybean farmland in the

Columbus exurbs. I contracted OmniElectric Inc. to set up two 10 Megawatt wind

turbines in the middle of the farm lot to harvest wind fuel. Seeing our electric meters run

backwards gave me great pleasure. I had become my own electric utility company,

through the constant air force producing lift on the long airfoils circling in the sky. The

gentle whoosh of the airfoils gave me great pleasure. As I sat contemplating my master

plan, I formulated two goals of SpoTilm: 1)Owning Tropical Islands and 2)Optimizing

PIME Go-layers. Want OmniCapital Transport of the OmniGrid and the OmniMarket?”

I continued, “On the first day of classes, Beta and I set up a stage on the Oval near

College Street and the Serpentine Wall, across the road from the Wexner Art Center,

testing our social networking skills and recruiting intelligent and beautiful techno-spirits

to help SpoTilm. Because of the media spotlight, the PapaYahtzee cameras surrounding

us attracted exponentially more attention. During this day many essential SpoTilm people

found us and refused to leave, skipping their classes to help us. The first person to stay

was Randy Sandwise, the golden haired president of Phi Kappa Tau. Next Rob Nammour

biked over. After one minute listening, he dedicated his PsychoKillerPenguin army of the

Pink Hippo to defend all of SpoTilm’s people and property. Rob Hedge, a guitar god

from The American Imports, hauled his Jimi Hendrix style amplifier onto our stage. We


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gave him the nod and his fingers danced his Fender fretboard, entrancing the crowd. To

complement the vibrating guitar, a white van emptied the BassMan drum group onto the

lawn. They added a tribal rhythm to the social music. An enthusiastic and blonde named

Lauren attracted by the impromptu concert volunteered to record the contacts of the

interested people. Her booming voice ensured everyone knew where to sign up. In the

Modys (mind+body) who came that day, we planted zaadz (seeds) about the potential of

social entrepreneurship through SpoTilm. I paused, tired of hearing myself ramble.”

All this talking and running finally stole my breath, an intense exercise for my

vocal cords, lungs, legs and abs. I run once a day but do not usually deliver monologues

simultaneously.

Isabella interrupted my thoughts, “What if I had been there from the start. Instead

I was entombed in my mother’s womb. I wasn’t born until October 1st 2020.”

I gathered my breath again: “Ah, the proverbial ‘What if,’ which is almost as

perilous as the ‘Why are we here’ mushroom stumper. The eternal OmniCause is time

constrains everything true. Everything happens now. Everything is OmniModern. We

cannot stop the future’s arrival. You are a time binder. Your dog Naala is a space binder.

And all the plants in your greenhouse are Omnergy binders. We float in the river of time.

Yet we cannot choose our personal deposition date, nor stop the timeless function.”

I paused as we had arrived back to the Lane Avenue Bridge over Olentangy

River. Looking up at the integrated transport layers of OmniGrid now filled with silently

speeding PIME- mostly goods and OmniPods, in preparation for the game later today.

Saturdays are always busy days during football seasons in Columbus, even during away

games as today.


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Walking in the front door, my Omny beeped for 9 AM. Three hours until game

time. I had much work to do, to prepare for the SpoTilm fiesta for the game. I sent wake

up calls to my friends at Isabella’s house.

Paging the OSU President, Matt Kraner, I explained to him my plan for an Oval

party sponsored by SpoTilm. I wanted to gather thousands of Buckeyes to support the

team and I confirmed one million dollar credit to the OSU President. Matt talked to the

Logan Marguiles, the head of the board of trustees. Logan and Matt got in touch with

Chip “Elmo” Curry, the police chief. Chip guaranteed his men would maintain a secure

Oval. It is tough to prepare for the master of darkness himself, Katabaz Theodix. You had

no idea what the attack would entail. But the worries are a bag of lies. Just ask a kid.

Gone was the overall uneasiness I felt during our battles with war-bots. I knew goodness

would prevail. Within five minutes, Omny received the receipt from the transaction.

We suspended an enormous ultra-light polymer screen fifty feet in the air. We set

up six speakers around the Oval perimeter. On this simple yet profound media

infrastructure, all on the Oval could experience the game. The whole scene resembled a

drive-in theater on the Oval, minus cars. As game time (noon Eastern time) grew near,

the Oval filled to the brim with rabid scarlet and grey colored Buckeye fans. Manifespo

contained the story of the 2006 match-up between #1 Ohio State and #2 Texas at the

Horseshoe, in which Bucks demolished the Longhorns, after the 2005 heartbreaker in the

heart of Austin, Texas. Today thirty-four years later, the rankings and the locations were

reversed, promising another joyous victory for the overachieving Buckeye away

underdogs.


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Sucked to the Oval under the OmniGrid layers amidst a throbbing crowd of

people, the freshmen screaming OH-IO, I felt a moment of perfection, gazing upward at

the intricate cloud shapes, close enough to touch. I picked a red wildflower and put it in

Isabella’s hair, to the furtive looks of her subtly envious roommates.

Rob, Randy, B, Beta, and I carved out a prime location one hundred feet back

from the screen to enjoy the game. Two white albino squirrels surveyed the crowd from

an elder oak tree. We set up our extra-light and amazingly comfortable aero-chairs, even

though we would likely be standing most of the game.

The game began horribly. Texas ran the opening kickoff back for a touchdown.

The crowd quieted for a second at the game in Austin. The team needed our support. I

decided to liven things up. I spoke into my Omny microphone, my voice booming over

the speakers: “In ten seconds our men will see this overflowing crowd on the stadium big

screen. Let’s give them something to fight for!”

The crowd went ecstatic and threw all sorts of things into the air. The deafening

noise and raining debris traveled at light speed to our team in the heart of Texas, to be re-

created on the big screen.

I don’t take credit for the fact that the Buckeyes turned up the heat to scorching.

Our quarterback Elliot Gonzales, grandson of Tony, threw a perfect spiral down the left

sideline for fifty yards. Two plays later, our star running back Roy Smith pancaked two

Longhorns into the end zone for the first Buckeyes touchdown. The crowd went berserk.

I couldn’t even hear myself think, so I just screamed with everyone else. After trading a

touchdown in the first minutes of the game, both teams buckled down into an intense


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defensive battle. John Tressel paced the side and chewed gum methodically. They went

into the locker room tied at 7 apiece.

At halftime, I used the restroom and stretched my body. Looking around, I saw

every one of my friends except Beta, his fighting fiery red locks absent from my view.

At that instant I received an Omny message from Beta: “The albino squirrels shot

me with PharmaDarts!”

I voice-typed my response into the Omny: “What do you mean?”

I didn’t receive a response from Beta. Not good. I sensed Katabaz.

My Omny buzzed with a crypto-message: “Alpha Theodix, I have your brother. I

shall kill him, unless you turn off your Omny and come with me.”

Katabaz preferred kidnapping type crimes, an Achilles heel for light warriors as

myself. I vowed to put Him out of his misery, if he hurt anyone. Then I prayed for his

angelic wife and daughter.

I responded, “Okay, I will come with you. Leave everyone else alone. Your beef

is with me.”

My Omny remained silent.

“No Alpha NO NO! Don’t go! I LOVE YOU!” Randy restrained Isabella as she

shrieked in dismay and tore at my shirt. I gathered my supplies and prepared my Omny.

Through my Omnoculars I saw Katabaz land his OmniPlane directly behind the

enormous screen next to the College Road OmniGrid, with Beta slumped over in the

passenger seat. The swirling air vortices produced by his helical turbine rippled the huge

polymer screen. Then Katabaz let loose a laser pulse, melting an oval hole in the polymer

screen. The crowd screamed in outrage. Two men, obviously outraged at the loss of their


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phenomenal viewing screen, sprinted towards Katabaz, obviously inebriated. They

stumbled within ten yards, before two purple energy pulses sizzled through the air, into

their chests. Stopped dead in their tracks, their bodies smoked on the ground with too

much energy.

I Omny messaged the police to stay clear. I didn’t want Beta to get killed in the

melee. I knew how to deal with Katabaz, you had to play on his level. He would kill Beta

in an instant if it suited him. This was all one big game to Katabaz Theodix. If only

Katabaz played football, instead of deadly criminal carerrorism.

The crowd parted as I walked through I walked calmly towards my enemy’s

OmniPlane. I could see the pearly whites of Katabaz’s beady eyes, framed by his flowing

black locks with red streaks. I should ask him where he gets his hair done. Wow Alpha, I

can’t believe you are joking at a time like this. You must have really lost your mind. He’s

going to KILL you!

I stopped ten feet away from the OmniPlane. I stood face to face with the violet

demon, locking eyes like steel. I switched off my Omny and removed it from my arm.

Then I placed it on the ground. Immediately Katabaz shot a PharmaDart into my neck,

probably an opiate. My vision blurred and I stumbled to the ground without muscle

control. I felt a robot arm lift me into the OmniPlane.

In the last thought wisp, I pictured the cover of my father’s golden manuscript of

Manifespo, beginning with this ambiguous story called Nonsense. The last conscious

image showed me Isabella’s smile.

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The Omni Capitalist - My First novel