A momentous week, a week of sunrises that mean something. You’ll have an opportunity to find the best in you under the darkest of circumstances. Pressures and stresses will try to sever you from your feelings, but you will stay strong, ensuring that you treat the taxi driver whose lateness cost you the big one with compassion, for you have it in your heart to know what it is to be human and to err and to not know about it until much, much later. Later in the week, passions will calm, tensions will abate, and you will have one of those rare moments of knowing yourself to be no more nor less than a collection of mass-creating bosons. Loosen the knots, and you might sail away.
This week you will start as dangerous as a wild cat, stalking the urban streets for your next meal. The people you meet will look at your eyes and glance quickly away; your own reflection will stare defiantly back at you, unwilling to blink first. But soon enough, the claws will retract and you will find yourself cuddling up in the softest of couches, all fur and purr. What’s got into you this week, my feline friend? It’s the days now getting longer by degrees, curling into your sub-conscious, making you crazy with the scent of the sun. Soon, soon, it will wax around the globe, reaching your toes, then your knees, then even the tips of your fingers, outstretched to greet it. Until then, you keep stalking, thrumming the early dark with instincts you would not allow in the light of a summer day.
Last week, I introduced you to Mr Middleton. I have provided an excerpt for you below, from my interview journals with Mr Middleton, from when I first came across him. It was on a meandering walk I took, through Paddington, not long after I had moved to Sydney. Not knowing my way around, and with thoughts of what documentary I might try my hand at next (at the time, I fancied myself a documentary maker, having made a couple of TV-length attempts, none of which had been broadcast), I had decided to try and find the next subject for a documentary simply by roaming the streets.
The first few attempts were dismal; I interviewed some perfectly pleasant, utterly boring Sydney-siders, one a cafe owner, one a cosmetics shop proprietor. Then I came across Mr Middleton exiting his house on his way to the grocery store.
…His plainness, the total anonymity of his suit, made me think, oddly, of Einstein and his wardrobe full of the same suits, one for each day of the week, to avoid wasting his mental energy on menial tasks such as deciding what to wear each day. Mr Middleton was either going to be the most interesting person I had met so far, or the least. Either way, it was worth the attempt.
As I got close, I am sure I heard him mutter under his breath something about a “teleporter.” Better and better. I cornered him for a couple of questions, as he stood outside his gate, nervously fidgeting with his coat the while. I did manage to get from him that he was a scientist of some kind, and I thought I would slip the teleporter into conversation as if I knew about it already, a technique which I had used in interviews in the past and which generally seemed to achieve greater disclosure.
Q: Where were you born?
Q: What made you want to get into science?
MM: I don’t know what you mean. Science is everything. How can one get into it when one is never out of it?
Q: What first prompted you to try to invent a teleporter?
MM: You know about that? No one is supposed to know about that yet. It’s not ready for other people to know about it. Have you told “Physics Today?” I beg of y0u, don’t breathe a word to the toadies at that magazine. Not yet. They wouldn’t know true science if it poked them in the eye.
Q: How will your teleporter work, once it is ready?
MM: I can’t say. There’s a combination of expectation energy…but no, I can’t say. Not before it’s ready. They’ll just think I am mad again. This will show them, my theories are not mad at all!
Q: What do you do for a living?
MM: I work at a television factory, doing quality control. But my real work is in my laboratory. No one has ever understood, but I’m sure, if I could only work out how matter can be transformed and reconfigured rather than transported…we could save so much time…there could be instantaneous travel. But no, that’s enough. What was I saying? Nothing, nothing. Very well. Get on now.
Q: Do you have any family?
MM: That’s enough. I’m very busy. Please don’t come back, as I won’t have time. Good-bye.
I’m afraid that’s all Mr Middleton had time for. He did not tell me when he expects the teleporter will be ready; in fact, he seemed to want to not speak of it. He did not let me into his laboratory, but I am hopeful for next time. I will definitely be back. Mr Middleton, this funny little man, is on to something. Mad man or genius; either way, good talent….
To be continued.
This week, love is in the water, grass, trees, the air you don’t hesitate to breathe. You are fleet-footed this week, running as light as light from one task to another, and that’s when you’ll feel it; the thrum, the silent, hidden buzz; that’s love, an all-consuming, all-pervasive hug that the Universe is giving you everyday. Between coffee and lunchtime, as you stretch your limbs and water your mind, be sure to give the cosmos a squeeze back. It needs it from you just as much as you need love from it.
May I introduce to you Mr Middleton.
Mr Middleton. Say hello.
MM: Oh, uhmm. Yes, but the impersonality co-efficient. If it was to the power of z, then proportionally it might make no difference to the material transfer. Where’s that glass?
Doesn’t look like we are going to get his attention, but at least now you’ve met him. He’s like that. I’m the only friend he has, and that’s because he doesn’t know I exist.
Mr Middleton will be making future visits to this blog, and will be setting up his own site soon enough. Won’t you, Mr Middleton?
MM: What’s that? No, can’t do it. Got to work at the sub-atomic level for it to be of any use at all.
Let’s take that as a yes. Mr Middleton. Mr Middleton! Do put away that bottle, there’s a good man. (Doesn’t understand a PR opportunity when it is staring him in the face. Might be best to close off now.)
Next week, I’ll tell you more about Mr Middleton, including his likes, dislikes, and how he came to be in the teleporter business. I’ll also be introducing you to Mr Richards. You might find Mr Richards a little more, ehem, communicative than Mr Middleton, although I will keep trying.