Gray Hall

CHAPTERS EIGHT AND NINE, GRAY HALL II

2007-10-15T11:01:00.001-07:00

CHAPTER EIGHT: A LESSON IN HELPING THE LESS FORTUNATE
I always give homeless people money, and my friends yell at me, "He's only going to buy more alcohol and cigarettes." And I'm thinking, "Oh, and like I wasn't?"
--Kathleen Madigan
My family was homeless for a long time. I grew up in Canada, so I thought we had just gone camping. And my parents kept me in the dark, because they were embarrassed. I'd ask, "Dad, are we living below the poverty line?" And he'd say, "No son, we're rich as long as we have each other. Now get in the Dumpster."
--Jim Carrey
I believe there's a commonality to all humanity: We all suck.
--Bill Hicks
During the month of November, the Black Law Student Association (BALSA) at the Davis University School of Law does their annual food drive for the less fortunate in the community. Law school students, staff, and faculty, with great amounts of charity and academic self-preservation (students could pull out a canned good when asked questions during class and get skipped over), donated enough food to feed 257 families (based upon statistics given by the president of BALSA). According to BALSA, Davis Law School averages about $7,000 in cash and about two tons of canned and boxed goods every year. Every year, the Board of Regents and the City Council would commend the law school on their generosity during the holiday season. Jake thought that the City Council was being facetious, as the current City Council was noticeably conservative and not big on helping social welfare programs.
For example, the City Council moved the homeless shelter from downtown (where it was useful due to the central location and the proximity to the bus station) to a location near the city limits (where it was hard to get to and oddly enough, located right by the county jail). Money for the city's homeless shelter, in addition, was taken away and, in the words of the City Council, sent to "more useful and productive programs." What these "more useful and productive programs" were, however, nobody knew.
If the money did go into these programs, there sure wasn't any change in the city. The streets were still riddled with potholes. The sidewalks were still uneven and full of cracks. The traffic was still congested. The cars that the City Council members drove, however, were much better looking and much more expensive. Jake never saw so many shiny and brand new Corvette Z6s at one location in his entire life. Oddly enough, a well-known and highly respected news magazine did a survey of City Councils around the nation and the home of Davis University School of Law ranked in the top ten in one category. Not for being ethical and efficient, but for being one of the most corrupt, one of the most inefficient, and one of the sleaziest city governments in the entire nation. Then again, this fact wasn't meant to imply anything at all.
The current City Council promoted these community project programs, as it was volunteer work and any kind of volunteer work was good for the community. It was excellent for the City Council. In addition, there was another benefit provided by community service. Since it was volunteer work, the City Council didn’t have to pay money to anyone to do this work. This meant more money for the really important projects like properly landscaping traffic roundabouts with flowers that would die in a week and not for trivial and foolish things like fixing the massive potholes that plagued the city streets.
This year, the members of BALSA were expecting the same amount of food and money, if not more, given the current state of the city right now. Preferably more, a whole lot more. The City Council, being wise and concerned about the plight of the poor and homeless, decided that organizations like the Salvation Army weren't all that important or all that useful. Why give good money to organizations that enable people who were welfare moochers and not being productive in the community? The Corvette Z6 is an all-American car, but hey, sometimes, one wants to go foreign with their car choices. Like a Porsche Boxter in a bright fire engine red or a sleek jet black.
OK, that was enough about how lousy the local City Council was, so it's now time to go back to the good deeds happening at Davis Law School. Maybe one should include misdeeds as well.
To fully understand this, one must understand how the food is collected during the BALSA Food Drive. Around the law school, there are shopping carts. To make a donation, a person must put the items into the shopping cart. That's how things are done. This might sound like a foolish way of doing a food drive, considering the shopping cars are out in the open and nobody is watching them. Anyone could walk by, bend over, and pilfer a few food items from the shopping cart without anybody knowing. But this does not happen. In fact, in the twenty years BALSA has held the food drive, nobody has stolen food from the shopping carts. Then again, some things are meant to be broken, including streaks.
One November morning--a warm day by November standards--Jake was outside talking to some of his law school friends. Two of them were in his Federal Income Taxation class and the others were people he had known since his 1L year. They were talking about their plans for the upcoming Thanksgiving Break, a welcome reprieve from the life sentence called law school.
"So Jake," asked Hector Graza while puffing on a Camel cigarette, "what are you doing for Thanksgiving Break?"
"Nothing much. Eat lots of food. Watch some football and curse the ineptitude of the Chiefs. Maybe look over the Tax Code."
"Sounds good, except for the Tax Code part. You probably were joking."
"Yeah. Like I'm going to look at that during Thanksgiving Break. What are you doing?"
"My girlfriend's parents are coming over. That should be a riot. And I mean the violent type. Not a fun time."
Eric Vinson laughed. "Is it that bad? My wife's parents are worse. Her family are half-drunk French Canadians. They're loud and drunk. Not to mention Canadian."
"Actually, they are. I've never understood why people buy guns and Mace and Tasers and all that shit, but now I'm beginning to understand. You've got to keep people away and the 'Please leave right now' attitude sometimes doesn't work. A good shot of pepper spray to the eyes does wonders." Hector took another puff on his cigarette and then shook the ash off the tip.
"Hmm...you may have a point there," replied Eric. "Nothing says the Thanksgiving spirit like 50,000 volts of electricity coursing through your body while pepper spray melts your eyeballs."
It was moments like these that made time outside so entertaining. Some of the craziest comments and the most entertaining conversations occured with the smokers. Last year, there was the legendary "You're all burning in Hell" joke contest, where Jake, Will, and Sarah told amazingly politically incorrect jokes for nearly an hour. Sarah had a ready supply of drunk Irish jokes. Will, despite being an avowed Catholic (but was more lax in his Mass attendance than a good Catholic should), recited a string of Jesus jokes. Jake was more equal-opportunity and told jokes that covered a wide area of topics. At the end of the hour (Sarah and Will had to go to class), it was declared a tie between Jake and Will, but Jake knew that he won. The contest was a fine way of decompressing from the normally oppressive nature of law school (despite the professors saying law school was an "open and tolerant" forum for ideas. It was "open and tolerant" assuming you didn't violate political correctness and the liberal attitude of most professors. Well, this was the case at Davis and most law schools. There were some law schools of a religious nature that were decidedly conservative and Jake avoided those places).
Will and his Immigration Law professor--Professor Susan Franklin--came out of Davis Law School, puffing on cigarettes and discussing a particular section of Federal immigration law.
"Hey Jake! Buddy! It's been a while since I've seen you. Do you have any more of those pastries filled with...what was it...vanilla cream? How about some cinnamon rolls? Those were great cinnamon rolls."
"Hey Will. No pinwheels or cinnamon rolls today. But I've got something else you might like." Jake opened his backpack and pulled out a small package wrapped in aluminum foil. "A chocolate cherry scone."
"That sounds good. And it looks good as well. You ever think about becoming a baker or something? You reall should. I think I'll save it for lunch."
Jake looked up at the law school. The main entrance at the west side was made of glass and steel, so a person could see what was going on inside. He looked up at the second floor and he saw someone going down the stairs. Not a casual walk, but a full blown run. Like someone was about to chase him.
The person was halfway down the stairs and then Jake saw why the person was running down the stairs so fast. Somebody was chasing him. A big, tall, muscular man who looked very angry.
"Will. Look over there. At the law school. Who is that going down the stairs?"
"I don't know. But I do know the guy chasing him....and I wouldn't want to get caught if he was chasing me." Will paused for a second. "That's Booker Jones. He used to be a defensive lineman at the University of Georgia. Three year starter. Scary dude. I think he works as a bouncer at a local club."
Professor Franklin looked up as well. "Yup, that's Booker all right," she said. "I think I know the person he's chasing. He looks like someone who frequenly visits the Legal Services office."
A tall, skinny, almost bony man bolted out the doors. His stringy, dark brown hair (shoulder length, slightly greasy) was streaming behind him. His black shirt was getting damp due to the sweat dripping off his face. His khaki pants were wrinkled and dirty. His backpack was tighly zippped up and weighed down with something. Whatever was inside his backpack made a clunking and clanking sound every time he made a step.
The man paused to take a breath and then he saw the doors fly open, like a ton of TNT exploded. What burst out of the doors was not a flaming ball of fire and smoke, but Booker Jones, a force of nature.
Imagine an African American man, six feet three inches in height. A cleanly shaved, bald head. Flinty brown eyes, like chips of brown obsidian. A neatly shaven goatee. Very little body fat. A densly muscled physique, despite graduating from college nearly ten years ago. Very quick on his feet for his sheer size. Absolutely intimidating. And he had a trigger-quick temper. Once he got angry, he got angry. Vesuvian anger. Explosive power like a 100 megaton nuclear warhead. That burst of anger made him a monster on the football field. And it made him one of the best bouncers in the area. Nobody messed with Booker Jones.
"Hey you! Yeah you!" Booker's voice boomed loudly. "Stop right now! Open up your bag! I know you took something from the shopping carts!"
The man automatically stopped in his tracks. Hell, everybody stopped in their tracks. Booker Jones had that kind of voice and the body to go along with in. Once people realized that he was talking to someone else and not them, everyone resumed with their previous activities. Just like nothing happened.
"Look man, whatever your name is. I don't know who you are and I don't know what you're talking about," stuttered the man, very unconvincingly. But he was convincing with how scared he was. Anyone would be scared if faced with a big, scary man like Booker Jones. "I don't have anything! I didn't take anything!" This was the unknown man. "Honestly, I don't know what you are talking about."
"Damn it! Don't lie with me! I know you took something from the shopping carts upstairs. I saw you take something and put it inside your backpack. Don't fucking lie with me!" Booker paused to catch his breath. "You know who that food is for? Homeless and poor people. You're taking food away from those people."
"I still don't know what you're talking about!" His voice became shrill and panicked. "I didn't take anything!"
"What did I tell you? Don't lie to me! You're lying! Show me your ID!"
"I'm getting out of here!" The man bolted from the law school and ran across Nichols Street, not caring if he got injured in the process. He barely missed being hit by a car by about a foot.
Booker said, "Did you see what happened? Damn fucker took food from the BALSA Food Drive shopping carts and lied about it. I could hear the cans rattling inside his backpack. Caught him fucking stealing from the homeless and poor. That makes me angry."
Professor Franklin said, "Booker, calm down. Don't get too angry."
"Calm down? That fucking asshole took food from the BALSA Food Drive shopping carts and lied about it! And you want me to calm down? The food belongs to the homeless and poor, not some random dude."
"Booker, calm down. You know that man you were screaming at? I've seen him at the law school before. In fact, several times before at the Legal Aid Clinic. He's homeless."
"Yeah, so what? Still doesn't mean he should take food from the BALSA carts, homeless or not."
"That's right. You should calm down. Remember, you're already in enough trouble. Don't make it any worse than it already is. Not over a few cans of food."
"Professor Franklin, you're right. I still don't think what he did was right." And as suddenly as Booker Jones got angry, he calmed down.
Will asked, "Hey professor, what just happened?"
"Someone took food from the BALSA carts and Booker got angry. He shouldn't have."
"Really? Why?"
"That's a long story. To make a long story short, Booker was arrested for assault twice when he was a kid. I think he also was arrested for assault recently. He doesn't need any more trouble with the law."
"Now that makes some more sense. Booker does get angry real quickly. Remind me not to get him pissed off. That guy is lucky he didn't get beat up."
"Absolutely. Then again, Booker should stay out of trouble and get some anger management. It's gotten him into problems before and it might get him into problems later." She looked at her watch. "Damn, it's 11:28. Time to go upstairs to teach class. Will, I suppose you'll be in class today?"
"Yup. Let's go. See ya, Jake."
"See ya, Will."
Jake let out a quick snort. He learned a vital lesson about helping the less fortunate. Some law school students are willing to help the less fortunate, but only those they choose to help. Hey, at least the law school students were doing something to help the less fortunate, unlike the city government. Jake also wondered what it would have been like if Booker Jones got his hands on the man. It would have been pretty violent and interesting, in a sadistic kind of way. Jake was sure that the city council would have paid a tidy sum of money for a peek at the video. Probably would have made a few side bets as well. Not that the city government was that sleazy…well, maybe they were.

CHAPTER NINE: THE MADNESS SEASON
College is where I realized that God didn't need seven days to create the Earth. He could party for six days and pull an all-nighter.
--Tommy Koenig
Schools: I got an F one time on a question that asked me my opinion.
--Gallagher
I'm willing to see prayer in school if you're willing to find a place for algebra in our churches.
--Dylan Brody
One fine December day, Clarissa and Jake were at Delacroix's Ice Pond, affectionately called "The Penguin Palace" by the locals. The original owner, a homesick Canadian named Pierre Delacroix from Edmonton, decided that the city needed an ice skating rink. To be honest, he liked playing ice hockey (naturally, of course) and the nearest ice skating rink was an hour away. So, in 1955, wanting a place to ice skate year-round, bought an old roller skating rink and converted it into an ice skating rink. To bring in people, he put up a giant sign with a giant penguin painted in the center. He had a painter cover the walls with ice skating penguins. The employees at Delacroix wore white shirts and black jackets, looking like penguins. On opening day, a newspaper reporter commented that Delacroix's Ice Pond would be a grand building for a penguin to live in. The next day, everyone called Delacroix's Ice Pond "The Penguin Palace" and since then, the name stuck.
Clarissa and Jake glided smoothly on the ice, arms linked together. Long strides covering distance on the ice. Not too fast, not too slow. Just comfortable and efficient motion.
Jake noticed that a lot of the men were tripping and falling over their jaws (when their jaws hit the ice), or stumbling over their feet, or even managing to skate into the walls. This only occurred when Clarissa skated by them. She had that ability. At the law school, men forgot how to talk while around her. While going out on dates with Clarissa, Jake had a constant and seemingly endless source of entertainment. He enjoyed seeing guys do double takes, lose concentration, and run into objects. Yes, it was a sadistic kind of humor, but even Clarissa found it amusing. It happened every single time without fail. She could be hazardous to your health. Very hazardous to your health. Broken bones. Painful concussions. Bruised bodies. Then again, you could say, for a brief amount of time, it might make you think that there was a God or a higher power. Beauty in any form was proof. Jake certainly thought that was true.
After ice skating, they stopped by the concession stand and bought hot chocolate and not hot cocoa; there was a difference between the two drinks. Hot cocoa is made of cocoa powder (generally insipid and flavorless in Jake's opinion) mixed with milk and a large amount of sugar. The result was an overly sweet drink that did not taste anything like chocolate, but more like heavily sugared milk with the barest hint of chocolate. Hot chocolate, however, was melted chocolate (coming from a solid bar of chocolate) mixed with milk or in an ideal world, cream.
The man responsible for the hot chocolate was a native Parisian who used to own a highly successful cafe near the Eiffel Tower. His hot chocolate was made of melted chocolate, hot milk, and some other unknown ingredients creating a truly sublime mixture. Thick texture. Intense chocolate flavor. The perfect level of sweetness. One cup could send a person into a higher state of unconsciousness or consciousness, depending on one's constitution. Food critics who visited his cafe found his coffee to be excellent, but his hot chocolate, that was a drink fit for the gods. He decided to move to America when his wife obtained a job teaching French at Davis University ten years ago. The man fell in love with Delacroix's Ice Rink and decided to make his famous hot chocolate.
While sipping his hot chocolate, Jake's mind began to wander off. Normally, his mind would wander off onto pleasant subjects, but this time, his mind wandered onto a subject he normally would not think about this time of the year. A subject that many law school students did not want to think about. He was thinking about law school finals.
Jake barely noticed that Clarissa was talking to him.
"Jake? Earth to Jake. Yoohoo? Are you listening?"
"What? Oh, yeah. What were you talking about? I wasn't listening. Sorry about that."
"That's OK. We were having a conversation about winter vacation plans. I was just telling you about my plans. How me and my family are spending time in Colorado." Clarissa looked at him strangely. "This just isn't like you. Are you OK?"
"I'm fine. I'm just a little distracted about finals."
"What? You're distracted about law school finals? The indestructible Jake Lau when it comes to law school finals? Mr. Always Prepared?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief. "Now I know for sure that there is something wrong with you."
"Not really. I've got nothing but statute-based finals. One of them is closed-book. That's why."
"Oh. Then again, it could be like last year when you had four finals in two days."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." He sighed. She was right. She was always right when it came to matters like this. "I might as well study and make do. Whatever may happen."
"Now I know you're sick. You don't study for finals and you've just used the word in a sentence." Clarissa began to wonder if Jake really was an alien. "I think you should finish up that hot chocolate soon. It's getting cold."
"Ready for the International Trade Law final Jake?"
"As ready as I will ever be Beth."
"I can't believe it's going to be closed book with all of the material we had to remember."
"I know. I must have taken sixty, seventy pages of notes. And I probably missed a whole lot of the stuff he talked about in class."
"Yeah. It's not going to be easy."
"Right about that. Then again, we both have the Federal Income Tax final on Monday."
"Oh no...I forgot about that." She groaned in disbelief and frustration. "And I barely started on my outline and I have to go to a friend's wedding on Saturday."
"Hmm...that is bad. I've got a copy of an outline you can use. Pretty good, actually. It covers everything we did in class this semester. I can e-mail you a copy of it."
"Really? You can? That would be great. You're a lifesaver. I'll see you at the final. Um...what room is it in again?"
"Computer people are in Room 107 and non-computer are in Room 108."
"Thanks again. Good luck."
The first final for Jake was the dreaded closed book International Trade Law final. The professor teaching the class, Professor Bahari, said that the final would be difficult, but not overly so, as long as you studied the material. Jake listened to this with some trepidation as Professor Bahari had a much higher standard than most professors.
Being an international law genius (several well-respected treatises on GATT and international trade law in publication), as well as highly educated (Duke University, Harvard Law School, London School of Economics, and Cambridge), his standard for "normal" was set at a level most would consider advanced. In fact, during class, Professor Bahari stated "what you're learning right now is material most trade lawyers don't learn or understand." That was how advanced and cutting edge this course was. The section on dumping alone was something most trade lawyers tried to avoid. And he expected students with no experience or exposure to the subject, to not only understand the material, but also write coherent and concise answers in complete sentences. Using the very proper and grammatical Queen's English. In under three hours. For a grade. Ah, but according to Professor Bahari and many other professors, "grades really don't matter to employers."
Really? According to that logic, all of the stuff they spouted about during 1L orientation was a giant load of bullshit that really didn't matter. Great. All that time spent reading textbooks and listening in class was one giant waste of three years. Then again, professors didn't have to worry about grades. Also, law school professors did well academically in law school. If you look at the faculty profiles for law school professors, you will note that many received high grades. One does not get into Law Review, Order of the Coif, or receive a clerkship to a United States Supreme Court justice with a low GPA.
Jake automatically hated Professor's Bahari's final just looking at it. While skimming through the questions, he realized that the seemingly innocent questions weren't so innocent. The simple answers Jake wanted to write (one or two paragraphs at most) had the possibility to morph into miniature treatises. In addition, the fact patterns were vague. Whether this was unintentional or purposely done, however, was a question best left unanswered. The answer to this question really didn't matter. What mattered was the answers to the questions at hand.
He thought that Professor's LaRusso's final exams were devious and that no professor could be them in complexity. Professor Stacy and Professor Glickstein were close, but not the worst. Professor Bahari's exams, Jake soon discovered, made Professor LaRusso's exams look simple by comparison. It was like comparing the explosive power of a 100 megaton nuclear bomb to the explosive power of a keg filled with gunpowder. No comparison at all.
With most law school essay exams, the fact pattern is carefully written so that the correct answer is relatively easy to find out. You know what answer the professor would like you to write down. The explanation takes time as it takes a while to write everything down.
With Professor Bahari's exam questions, because of the vagueness of the fact pattern, you couldn't come up with an exact answer (what the Professor wanted). It depended on how you defined a certain word, how you interpreted an element of a certain test, how you felt about a certain subject, how a certain historical incident that happened a thousand years ago helped fuel the current ideas on a certain topic.
The questions got worse as the exam went along. Once he was finished with the exam, he immediately went home, took two extra-strength aspirin for an extra-strength headache, and instantly went to sleep. He didn't wake up until the next morning.
Public International Law was much better, despite the final being held on a Saturday afternoon. The Saturday final was a peculiar institution mainly done by law schools. Some other professional schools scheduled Saturday finals, but they were rare. The law school could have held the finals strictly on Mondays through Fridays, but that would have posed logistical problems given classroom size and numbers. Each law school class generally needed two rooms each; larger classes sometimes used three or four rooms. With the clever use of pigeonhole theory, one could schedule the finals such that every final was taken only on Mondays through Fridays. But this caused problems with scheduling.
For instance, certain certificate programs like the International Law and Tax Certificate Program, have several required classes each semester. One cannot schedule Federal Income Taxation and Taxation of Business Enterprises at the same time on the same day. This unfortunate scheduling conflict happened when you used a strict Monday through Friday testing schedule. To cure this problem, an additional day for testing is needed. Hence the Saturday test day.
The test went surprisingly well. The first question involved writing an outline argument: whether or not Slovenia's actions violated international law with its actions involving Gypsies. It was obvious (based upon Jake's opinion of the facts) that Slovenia did violate international law. Most of the rights involved were universally recognized rights that had become customary international law. Things like freedom of movement, the right to association, religious freedom, and such. Coming up with counter arguments were just as simple to come up with as one can always find a loophole in treaties, even with internationally recognized rights like religious freedom. Just claim the restrictions were for public safety reasons and anything could be made legal. The second question involved writing a memo. The great question involving the United States and torture. Fun. The final question, to Jake, seemed like a trick question. It asked whether the United States should continue its obligations with respect to the Convention on the Law of the Seas and other environmentally related treaties. What was the tricky part of the question is that the United States HAD no obligations to such treaties. They never signed them and enforced them as law. So Jake had to carefully answer the question by making an assumption on what the professor meant by "continuing their current treaty obligations." He thought this was a brilliant piece of legal writing.
His Federal Income Taxation final wasn't as bad as Jake thought it would be. In fact, it was much easier than he thought it would be. So much for worrying about the final. That was a total waste of five seconds of his life. Wait, he spent a weekend going over the problems (done during class) and reading over the outline he got from one of his friends in Federal Income Taxation. OK. So it was a waste of a weekend in his life. And he could have spent some of that time watching Casino Royale at one of the many multiplexes in town. It would have been an overpriced experience (ten bucks for a ticket, five bucks for soda, three bucks for popcorn, and an untold amount of hassles like cell phones and screaming children) but more interesting than looking at the Federal Tax Code.
Of course, Jake didn't escape that easily. If he did, then it wouldn't be a proper law school experience. Oh no. Professor Davidson had to include in some problems involving 1245 recapture gain (which triggered the capital gain rate of taxation), Roth IRA deductions, and municipal bonds. Jake hated any problems that involved capital gain taxes. Section 1(h) was not a very fun section to go through. Before you can come up to Section 1(h), you had to figure you what was subject to capital gains (requiring going through several other confusing sections), figure out if it was short-term or long-term, and then categorizing them in other ways. Oh, but this was just the beginning. Once you figure out the regular tax with the money subject to capital gains, you then can go though the terrible maelstrom called Section 1(h) of the Federal Tax Code. First you compute the tax without the money subject to capital gains (an already complicated process that drove people crazy). Then you go though a complicated process of figuring out the tax with capital gains. This process took a while, as the code was poorly written. At moments like this, Jake grudgingly understood why there was a Legal Writing class at Davis Law School. Just barely.
He went home, took some more extra-strength aspirin, and took another long nap. An extra long nap. He had one more final left, so this was a bad thing. This was going to be a long finals period.
Jake's final final. Bankruptcy taught by Professor Warren. Students called him Professor Everywhere Yet Nowhere, as his classes went everywhere, in every direction. In his class, when he asked a question (one that had an obviously correct answer), he accepted every answer as equally correct. No matter how off-topic or bizarre or ludicrous. On the final exam however, he wanted the correct answer, one that he never talked about. Concrete on the final exam, like a vaporous gas in class. Everywhere but nowhere. In the end, you felt like you learned everything, but got nothing in return.
This probably was an unfair characterization of Professor Warren, but one got that feeling while in one of his classes. Jake certainly got that feeling while in one of Warren's classes. He had that feeling in Contracts II when Professor Warren would ask questions over UCC 2-403. You knew the facts fit the statute or the facts didn't fit the statute. You knew when something did or didn't fit the statute. You knew when things were right or wrong. But Professor Warren would accept anything you came up with. It was crazy, just absolutely crazy.
Professor Warren's final for bankruptcy was a classic "Everywhere but Nowhere" final. The fact patterns were vague and under written. Facts were missing. Facts were poorly written as to have more than one valid meaning. The questions he asked were just as vague. Once you combined the questions with the facts, you got a giant mess.
This year, it was an unlucky couple who was suffering from crippling debt. They had a $250,000 mortgage that was overdue. Because of their missed payments (several months worth), the bank was about to foreclose on their house. In addition to the giant mortgage, they owed money on two cars ($40,000 in debt and with a fair market value of only $35,000) and $50,000 in credit card debt.
Fun. Please examine the likelihood of success of keeping their house and cars in Chapter 7 bankruptcy using applicable Missouri exemption statutes. Given the facts, it was highly unlikely that they would keep both their cars and the house. One car at most. To get to that conclusion required going through the dreaded means test and several pages of US Census Bureau data.
Next, as a great follow-up to the first question, assume this is a Chapter 13 bankruptcy. What are the chances of success assuming they file in Kansas? This was much easier to do than file Chapter 13. Jake noted the couple could file for Chapter 7. Why they didn't go for Chapter 7 seemed odd to Jake, but that was something he didn't question. That was his personal opinion.
Jake finished the final with some time to spare. Like about two minutes left. He had the nagging feeling he should have finished much earlier. Yeah, he could have, if it weren't for the bad fact patterns and the poorly written questions. Oh well. That was how life and finals worked out.
For some reason, he had a terrible headache when he was finished with finals. So when he went home, he took two extra-strength aspirin and went to sleep. And that was law school finals for this semester. The madness season, at least for now, was over. Jake only had to endure this in the spring and it all would be over. Taking finals would be finally over. Permanently.
Jake would forget about anything related to law school until January. Heck, since he was a 3L, he might forget about law school until the next madness season in May.

Interlude #3, Gray Hall Two

2007-07-01T10:03:00.000-07:00

INTERLUDE THREE: RANDOM CONVERSATIONS FROM LAW SCHOOL
I really feel as human beings, we need more training in our basic social skills. Conversational distance: Don’t you hate these people that talk into your mouth like you’re a clown at a drive-through?
--Jerry Seinfeld
And I was drinking Jaegermeister, which I believe is the liquid equivalent of Wonder Woman’s golden lasso, because it will make you tell anybody the truth for no reason whatsoever.
--Margaret Cho
A study shows college girls talk about sex at least as much as college guys. They just tell the truth.
--Jay Leno

Law school produces images of young, bright, good-looking men and women. These future litigating machines are all well-dressed wearing preppy clothing. The professors are distinguished men and women wearing suits, looking like they argued an important case in front of the Supreme Court. These professors speak in dulcet tones, each word having significant meaning, each lecture carefully constructed and brilliant in nature. The students lean forward, listening to every word in earnest rapture, entranced by such learned knowledge.
We take a look at the classroom. It's a handsome, high-tech affair complete with the latest technology. Antiseptic and clean with modern lines. Or it's a venerable lecture hall, with the right amount of polished wood. In either case, this classroom belongs in a hallowed institution with a reputation for excellence.
And the students, oh, we can't forget about the students. Their conversations sound so educated. They speak easily about the legal ramifications of a certain case. They ask excellent questions. They know the law. People can feel confident that the future of America is safe in their hands.
Then reality hits. Law school is definitely not like this Hollywood image. Instead of brilliant conversations, we get the mundane. Law school does not come close to what Hollywood portrays. You get much less than what you expected. If one eavesdropped on a typical law school conversation among students and the interaction that occurred in classrooms, one will get a different view of law school. Here are some actual and random stuff that people have said in law school. Beware, once you read these snippets, you might question legal education and possibly, the future of America. A lot of these conversations involve alcohol, just so you know.
A 1L Girl and a 1L Guy at a bar
1L Girl: What are you going to mix that rum with?
1L Guy: Trouble and bad circumstances.
*****
During a drunken Halloween party
3L Girl #1: Your bra is undone!
3L Girl #2: I tried to fix it, but I have a donut in my hand!
*****
Overheard in the informal commons
1L Girl: Did you see the Oscars on Sunday?
1L Guy: Uh, no. I don't watch the Oscars.
1L Girl: Why not?
1L Guy: Only gay guys, married men, or guys with girlfriends watch the Oscars.
1L Girl (to Random Guy walking by): Did you see the Oscars?
Random Guy: Yeah, I did.
1L Girl (to 1L Guy): See! I told you so!
1L Guy (to Random Guy): Are you married?
Random Guy: Yeah. I watched it with my wife. She made me watch it with her.
1L Guy: Told you!
1L Girl (to 1L Guy): I hate you.
*****
Overheard in the law library
3L Girl #1 (searching in her purse): I wonder where did I put it?
3L Girl #2: What are you talking about?
3L Girl #3: Shh! We're in the library. And I think you're drunk.
3L Girl #1: No I'm not. I only had two margaritas...I think.
3L Girl #2: You're drunk.
3L Girl #1: I found it! (Pulls out a condom and waves it around. She starts screaming in a slurred and drunken manner.) Look what I found in my purse! It's a condom!
Librarian: I'm in the information field and knowing stuff is what my job entails. That, however, was something I don't want to know about.
3L Girl #2 & #3: Oops. Sorry about that. We'll keep her quiet.
Librarian: You'd better or I'll have to kick you out.

Of course, those snippets weren't from the classroom. Those conversations might seem to be prejudicial in nature, showing the less-academic side of law school students. Now, we'll have a look at some student snippets from the classroom. Think of this as Socratic Method Gone Wild.
Contracts Professor: Can he (1L #1) sell himself to me?
1L #2: Well, I think so. I guess in the right marketplace.
Prof: What kind of marketplace?
1L #2: A Nevada brothel?
*****
Professor: Is there any expectation of privacy in a bathroom stall?
1L #1: I would expect some privacy.
Professor: OK, what behavior might be public in a bathroom stall?
1L #1: Well, you expect people can see your feet. Also, people can hear the sounds you make...
Professor: What if there are two sets of legs in there? What should the officer do?
1L #1: I don't know.
Professor: (Asking 1L #2): What should the officer do?
1L #2: Knock and announce?
*****
3L: So is it possible that a really unscrupulous plaintiff's lawyer would say a couple was married and claim loss of consortium even if they weren't?
Pretrial Practice Professor: Well, it's possible. But at some point during discovery, you're likely to interview or depose the wife. If two people come in wearing wedding rings and say they're married, you're likely to believe them. If you have doubts, you can always ask for a copy of the marriage certificate.
3L: Oh, okay.
PPP: Well, unless you're in litigation with Anna Nicole Smith. Then get everything in writing.
*****
Crim Pro Prof: If you have nothing to hide do you just let the police go through your house?
Student #1: If you've got nothing to hide then who cares. Leave the windows wide open, save money on air conditioning.
Student #2: You can still have things to hide that aren't illegal.

Finally, some excellent legal insights from law professors. Remembering these little hints can save you a lot of trouble and hassle…not that you’re going to cause problems and actually need to remember this stuff.
If you ever want to become a lawyer, or if you are practicing in the legal profession, the following will definitely be useful.
Professor: Well, all my friends have said that if you want to be in law school and then accepted by the bar... don't EVER have more than an ounce of marijuana on you. I mean, having a quarter bag and giving it out to your friends is something you do in undergrad...
Torts professor: "Death is oftentimes a lot cheaper than life. So I guess if you run someone over and you think they're going to be a quadriplegic, back up and run them over a few more times."
Criminal Procedure Professor: Nobody wins felony possession cases. If you're a felon, and you're in possession of a weapon, you lose. The prosecutor wins every time. My dog, who is eleven and has dementia, could win these cases. If only she could figure out how to open the door and get the felon on the stand, I'm telling you she could win. And she can't see.
Professor: When you take the Bar Exam, you're going to leave feeling like you missed half the questions. And guess what? You probably did.
MPRE Review Instructor: Regarding sleeping with your clients, if you start sleeping with them after the attorney-client relationship is formed, that's a no-no and you have to pull out. I mean withdraw. Crap. Okay, you can't be their lawyer anymore.
Crim Pro Prof: "What should a reasonable crack possessor answer when the officer can feel the rock during a Terry frisk? That's easy. 'It's a gumball!'"
Trial Advocacy Prof: "You have the 5th amendment right to remain silent, at least for the next couple of days. That is until they change it to be a violation of the Patriot Act."
Evidence Prof: "If you were caught in a known drug house, with 135 packets of cocaine on the table in front of you, a razor with cocaine on it, a scale, a gun, and $2500 in cash, would you want to talk about the evidence?"

And that's a good representative sample of random conversations coming from law school. It's not the ultra-smart place you thought it would be. Think of it as a version of high school, just with more liquor involved.

Gray Hall Two, Chapter Seven

2007-06-05T18:13:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER SEVEN: GHOSTS, GOBLINS, AND OTHER LAW SCHOOL CREATURES
Last Halloween was bad for me. I got real beat up. I went to a party dressed as a piñata.
--Jim Samuels
When I was in college, I came up with the perfect costume. I wore cat ears and angel wings and carried a pitchfork, and went as every girl on campus.
--Steve Hofstetter
On Halloween I ran out of candy and I had to give the kids nicotine gum.
--David Letterman

Jake enjoyed his daily drive up Nichols Street to get to Gray Hall, the home of Davis University Law School. It allowed him an opportunity to see a part of the Davis University campus, a site that he rarely saw while in law school. When you enter graduate school, let alone any professional school, you generally stay in one building. Sometimes, you stayed in the same classroom in the building.
Jake did spend time on the main campus (outside of law school) because the financial aid people, for some reason, kept losing his financial aid papers every semester. He wasn't sure why this happened to him. Life worked in odd ways. You never look for problems, but problems just find you.
According to their records, they thought he did not file the necessary papers to get his excess financial aid released. This was how things worked at Davis University. Jake knew he had filed them last semester, the semester before that, and the semester before that, for the last seven years at Davis University. He knew this because Davis University would mail (now it was done by e-mail) him a confirmation letter. And Jake kept meticulous records, though one might consider him a paper packrat. Given the changes to a paperless society, one might now consider him an e-paper packrat.
Jake would show them the confirmation letter or a paper copy of the electronic version of the confirmation letter. The mistake would get cleared up and the financial aid people would apologize. They would say this mistake would not happen again. The next semester, it would happen again.
Oddly enough, a new student to Davis University would approach him and ask where a certain building was or how to get to a certain building. If you had asked him this question while he was in college, this question would pose no problem. He would point in the general direction and give a detailed set of instructions on how to get there. If you asked him this question now, this question would pose some problems. He had spent so much time in Gray Hall that his mental picture of campus had shrunk down to the area around Gray Hall. On a campus that encompassed several thousand acres, this was a small percentage of Davis University, one that was of little geographical use.

The daily drive up Nichols Street also allowed him a chance to watch people. Every day, Jake saw people wearing what was considered normal, everyday wear. What he saw ranged from tasteful to unusual to, well, Jake wasn't sure what or how to describe it. Imagine an obviously beautiful female--tall, blond and athletic, but with curves in the right places. Now imagine this person wearing pink customized Nike sneakers, neon pink socks, a garishly-bright neon yellow skirt the shade of a highlighter, a black T-shirt with more neon on it, and a pink headband. Now add in the requisite iPod and the pink cellular phone (the very sleek and very thin RAZR model). What words do you use to describe that ensemble? Garish? Scary? Taking the current trend of the retro look (in this example, the 1980's, too far? He wasn't sure what to say on those occasions.
Another thing that he saw. Maybe he was a little old fashioned, but Jake thought it wasn't presentable and quite honestly, unprofessional. Sure, you could do what you wanted when you were an adult, but some thing just weren't right. When was it acceptable to wear pajamas to school? It's fine to wear pajamas in your dorm or your apartment or your house, but out in public? While walking to class? Some people took the bedroom look (and not the sexy come-hither type) to the ludicrous extreme by wearing flip-flops. It didn't take that much time to put on jeans.
On a good day, however, there was the seemingly endless parade of attractive women wearing shorts, skirts, and other weather related, body-baring fashions. On those days, he didn't mind waiting in a long line of cars. Sometimes, he wished that the line would move as fast as possible.
For some reason, certain people thought that because it was warm, they should wear shorts, skirts, and clothing that was as small as possible despite how bad the clothing looked on them. If you could consider it clothing. Jake firmly believed that certain people should wear certain types of clothing. Not for religious reasons, but for the public good. Nobody, he was sure, wanted to see anyone with more rolls than a bakery wearing ultra-short shorts and belly-baring shirts. Even those who said that "everyone was beautiful no matter how they looked." On the other hand, people who were so thin that he could see what they were eating without using an X-ray machine, should not wear clothing that showed off their bone structure. It worked both ways.

Today, the clothing style was bordering on the unusual, and yet, Jake wasn't making snide comments to himself on how atrocious their clothing choices were. Instead, he was amazed at how creative their choices were. What was the difference in his mood? It was Halloween. Well, not exactly October 31, but October 29 as Halloween fell on a Sunday and nobody went to classes on Sunday. So the students at Davis University wore their costumes on the Friday before Halloween.
Currently, Jake was not a big fan of Halloween. For him, in this point of his life, Halloween was another day of the year that came and past. If it was a school day, he went to school and spent the day listening to lectures. If it was a weekend, he did the laundry and other weekend activities. At night, he shut off the lights, locked the doors, and did his best in ignoring the children that inevitably knocked on his doors to ask for candy and other foods high in processed and refined sugar.
Personally, in his opinion, Jake thought that some people took Halloween way too seriously. There were people who wore a costume to school or their place of employment. There were people who will accost you for not having the proper Halloween spirit if you're not dressed up like they are. And if you expressed an opinion contrary to their own Halloween belief system, you're considered a spoil sport. One would think that these people considered Halloween a religious holiday and wearing a costume of some sort (lame or cool) is akin to religious vestments in order to commune with the Halloween gods.
And yet, despite his seemingly curmudgeonly attitude about Halloween, Jake did enjoy this holiday, but in limited doses. He did enjoy watching people (particularly people who were considered adults) dress up in costumes and have some fun for a day. It was one of the few days when dressing up in a costume was considered normal and socially acceptable behavior. Then again, in certain parts of the country like New Orleans, dressing up in a costume was an everyday activity. Or at least that's what Jake heard from some people who used to live in New Orleans. Maybe they were exaggerating this statement, but it seemed quite plausible.
Jake kept a mental tally of the number of people wearing costumes and what kind of costume they were wearing on this day. He came up with some general patterns when it came to costumes. For instance, the men wore sports jerseys so they, quite blandly, looked like athletes. One man was dressed like Fred Phelps (the anti-homosexual preacher from Kansas who held up signs that said "Thank God for IEDs") which Jake found to be creative and hilarious. One guy was wearing a Devil costume and ironically (so Jake thought), standing next to the guy dressed up like Fred Phelps. And there was the motley group of pirates fighting with an equally motley group of ninjas. The women had a little more variety in their choices if one considered multiple variations on witches, angels, fairies, and fuzzy animals like cats varied. Jake wasn't sure if this counted as a variety. He also noted that their costumes were on the tasteful side due to the University's unofficial dress code. After all, as much as Davis University talked about free speech and students having rights, the University still had power to limit what was worn by students and faculty. After all, one does not want someone running naked around campus, let alone letting women or men exposing certain parts of their bodies.
Jake had noticed a trend for female Halloween costumes, one that he was not voicing an opinion over. He had noticed that female costumes, no matter what they were--teacher, cowboy, animal, police officer, etc.--were getting more and more risqué in nature. Once could say that they were, well, put in a politically incorrect manner, sluttish, maybe even stripper-like. It seemed like every woman he had known decided that they wanted to wear a costume that exposed large amounts of skin (sometimes, in a bad way as noted above). He wasn't sure what exactly was motivating this. No matter what the costume was, it inevitably included stiletto heels, mini skirts, push-up bras, and clothing that unbuttoned down to the navel. He considered it the male-fantasy version of ordinary occupations involving women. It's never a nurse, but a stripper daylighting as a nurse. It's never a police officer, but a police officer wearing heels, possessing handcuffs, and a fascination for bondage. Society was supposedly moving towards a politically correct version where women were becoming equal to men and they weren't going to be treated as sex objects. If this was the case, these costumes were an odd way of showing it.

Jake parked his car in the Burton Union parking lot. Instead of making his way directly to Gray Hall, he decided to enter Burton Hall to enroll for classes. In addition to being the Halloween season, it was also enrollment season for law school students. Being a 3L, he was in the top of the heap for class picking order.
He made his way through the doors and got to the computers. He quickly logged on and picked his classes using the online enrollment website. For once, things were working well on the online enrollment website. When the online system first came on, there were many problems. It was slow, even slower than the old process of filling out paper applications and waiting in line. There were numerous errors. The system shut down for no reason; the links did not work or sent you to the wrong site; the online timetable showed the wrong times for classes. It was sheer hell just to enroll in classes. Dropping a class was an even worse experience.
Jake logged off and noticed that an attractive brunette female was waiting to use the computer. Apparently, the other computers were not working for some reason (something that frequently happened with the Davis University computer network). He also noticed that she was wearing a cat costume (white instead of the traditional black costume that people generally wore) complete with fuzzy ears and tail. This person, Jake thought, must enjoy Halloween, much more than he did.
She said, "Can I use the computer? It's my day to enroll for classes."
Jake replied, "I'm done with it. You can use it right now."
"Great! I probably can enroll in a class I want." Jake thought that this was the end of the conversation. After all, she wanted to use the computer and she got to use the computer. That was what this conversation was all about, at least to Jake's mind. One can imagine Jake's surprise when she decided to continue this conversation on an unusual tangent that he did not expect.
She randomly added in, "Do you like my costume?"
At this moment, Jake could have slunk away and pretended to not have heard her query. Or he could have claimed to be late for something (highly unlikely as it was only 7:15 AM and there were no classes at this time. For some reason, Jake decided to continue this conversation where it may lead. Jake had a knack for getting into strange situations and conversations, even for his standards. Like trouble, one does not ask for it. It just happens.
"Yes, yes I do. You look nice in it. Cat costumes are very cute." This was the truth, unembellished, but the truth. He managed to use two words that females used constantly in many forms. Females, it seemed to Jake, used "cute" and "nice" in so many ways that he was not sure what those words meant. Depending on the inflection, the context, the subject one was referring to, the word "nice" or "cute" could be interpreted as a sincere compliment or a scathing insult or something in between. He hoped that she understood that he was using these words as a compliment.
"Thank you for the compliment." She looked him over. "Where's your costume? I don't see you wearing one."
"Um, I don't feel like wearing one. Am I supposed to wear one?"
"Are you supposed to wear one?" A look of surprise and indignation as if Jake said something amounting to sacrilege. "You're supposed to wear one. It's Halloween!"
"I have to wear a costume on Halloween?" Of course, it wasn't Halloween and he could have pointed this out, but he decided not to.
"Yes, you have to."
"In that case, I am dressed up as a cat lover." Jake paused for a moment. He then added in jest, "In fact, I'm looking for a cat to take home. You'd fit the bill."
"Really?" She laughed. "That was pretty good. So, what's you name?"
"The name's Jake. And yours?"
"Ellen Larson. Nice to meet you."
"A pleasure to meet you. I've got to go."

Jake left without getting her number. He was happily dating and unavailable. His sensibilities could not accept the concept of being in relationships with more than one woman. At this moment, it was hard enough to handle one woman. Jake couldn't imagine how much harder it would be to date two women. The Chinese, quite wisely, knew that more than one woman in a house meant trouble, big trouble. In fact, the Chinese ideogram for "discord" had two women underneath a roof. Jake chuckled at that. Five thousand years of civilization did give you an advantage in some ways.
His Halloween was off to a good start. Once Jake survived the regiment of classes for today, he would go home and get ready for what promised to be a fun Halloween party with Clarissa. There was nothing like a Halloween costume party hosted by law school students.

Gray Hall II, Chapter Six

2007-05-25T07:50:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER SIX: FILING A MOTION TO STICK MY FOOT IN MY MOUTH
I'm always putting my foot in my mouth. I met this woman recently, and I could have sworn she was pregnant. I think the rule is don't guess at that ever, ever, ever.
--Brian Regan
I speak truth, not all I would like to, but as much as I dare to speak.
--Montaigne
And others' follies teach us not,
Nor much their wisdom teaches;
And most, of sterling worth, is what
Our own experience preaches.
--Tennyson
The greatest mistake you can make in this life is to be continually fearing you will make one.
--Elbert Hubbard

Jake hated situations that involved speaking in front of large groups. This may seem ironic as Jake seemed to do so well in these situations. One would not guess that Jake hated to do this, let alone have any problems while doing so. But, deep inside, Jake suffered from a deep, intense phobia involving speaking in front of large groups? Why this deep, seemingly irrational fear?
He wasn't exactly sure, but like many people, he hated to look like a fool and he didn't want to appear incompetent. Looking bad was well, bad. For some strange reason, when he spoke in front of large groups (more than five people), he just froze up for a brief instant, despite practicing for hours, despite intense memorization, despite doing exercises that supposedly calmed people down. And when the inevitable happened, one of two possibilities would occur.
He would hesitatingly stumble in his delivery and barely get through what he wanted to say. That wasn't bad. At least he managed to deliver what he wanted, though it may have been in a bumbling manner. The other possibility, the one he dreaded the most, Jake would go into a Zen-like autopilot. The words flew quickly from his mouth. They glided without any effort.
This may sound like a good thing, but this kind of autopilot was dangerous to himself and everyone else along for the ride. This autopilot wasn't programmed to fly smoothly, but this autopilot was programmed to crash and burn. Instead of flying smoothly towards a friendly field, his verbal plane was set on a crash course into the closest available target. Anyone in the immediate area was a target.
In some cases, this wasn't a bad thing. With respect to stand-up comedy, going on autopilot allowed you to get through a routine. Dead silence combined with bad delivery made for lousy comedy. Just letting the words come out was preferable. Unless you are angry and you go into a racist tirade like the guy who played Kramer on Seinfeld. Then it was an excellent idea to just shut up and say nothing.
And yet, despite this dislike for public speaking, Jake decided to enroll in Trial Advocacy, a class that focused on effective trial communication. Basically, students in the class learned the basic techniques and tactics that helped lawyers win trials for their clients. The culmination of the class was a final trial argued in a real courtroom in front of a real judge in front of a real jury. Yes, it was a mock and moot trial (with the jury made of business school students who didn't want to be there like a real jury), but the class treated this like a real trial. What you said and how you said it counted.
Jake decided that if he was going to be a lawyer, he might as well take some classes that exposed him to the process of litigation. There was a good likelihood he was going to argue at least one case in court, so getting some practice, even if it was in a class, was better than nothing. And besides, he had to learn how to speak without flubbing one of these days. Might as well do it during law school than in real life. Law school, Jake learned during his first year, was a surreal world. Nothing was real.
And yes, Trial Advocacy was reflective of the law school experience. Once a week, students in Trial Advocacy met in small sections taught by a supposedly experienced lawyer or judge. He was suspicious of this, as Jake heard horror stories of learned attorneys and judges who didn't know anything about the rules of evidence, let alone criminal procedure. He couldn't complain too much. His Trial Advocacy small section attorney was sharp. She definitely knew her stuff. As an additional bonus, she didn't make students wear stuffy suits, one of the "requirements" for small section. Jake was one of those people who tried to avoid wearing suits as much as possible.
Jake liked his Trial Advocacy small section. The people in his small section were all friendly, all nice people that he got along with. There was Laura Chamber, a blond-haired girl who was in his 1L small section. Her boyfriend, Chris Prescott (a self-described basketball junkie) was also in his Trial Advocacy small section. She and Chris Prescott were as close to inseparable as possible. Jake thought they made a nice couple and that Chris Prescott would propose marriage sooner or later. There was a pool on which date Chris Prescott would propose being run by Brian Kief, a guy from Jake’s 1L small section. Jake, oddly enough, chose some time this week (including today, Friday, and Saturday). He was hoping this week as the pool was now up to $75, a nice and tidy sum, especially for a law school student.
The same applied to Crystal Brown. She and her boyfriend, a student at Davis University, were also in a serious relationship. Jake thought they would get engaged soon as well, though not before Laura and Chris proposed undying love. There was not a pool on when Crystal would get engaged. Crystal and Jake also shared several mutual friends from their college experience at Davis University. This included Ken Ballentine (in Jake's 1L small section) and Alan Kennison (a guy that Jake knew since middle school). Jake's friendship with Alan Kennison was a strange one that meant telling a long story involving headlocks and choke holds. In Jake's world, strange things happened and sometimes, things got stranger than even he thought was possible.
Anne Swanson was already married and pregnant, with a child on the way. She and Crystal, apparently, were good friends. Oh, and there was another Chris in his small section. This Chris was Chris Sampson, a 2L who was a summer starter. Jake and Chris generally played witness for each other in Trial Advocacy. It was a good working relationship.
Cheryl O'Malley, currently special assistant prosecutor in federal court, was presiding as judge for Jake's Trial Advocacy small section. She was a few minutes late for several reasons. Traffic was getting bad due to the massive rainstorm happening at this moment. In addition, parking near the law school was spotty due to the men's basketball game. Trying to find parking on campus during a basketball game was nearly impossible. Rabid fans packed the basketball arena during every game. Guaranteed sell out. Parking spots became a rare commodity and people paid large sums to snag a nearby spot.
"Wow, people sure do like their basketball around here." This was O'Malley. "It took me a while to find a parking spot."
Chris Sampson said, "This is Davis University. The most important thing around here is basketball. It's that simple." He looked at his watch, a stainless steel Casio dive watch as he enjoyed scuba diving. "And I'm missing a game. Even had a chance for sideline tickets. These were premium seats."
"You had sideline tickets to tonight's game?"
This was Chris Prescott. He was a Davis University basketball fanatic who attended every single home game and as many away games as possible. If it meant waiting in line for days upon end, that was a price he would pay. Court side tickets were extra special tickets, very expensive. You had to be a big donator to the Davis University Athletic Fund to get court side seats. At last check, it was $150,000 a year for about ten years. Average college students did not and could not afford these prices.
Student section seats were behind the baskets, so they weren't bad seats. The court side seats, however, were akin to the 50 yard seats in football stadiums. They were prime seats as one could see all the action occurring on the field. If you knew someone who had court side seats, you asked how they got them. After all, you might be able to snag some tickets.
Chris Prescott continued by asking, "What row were they?"
"Second row, man. Second freaking row. You know what I'm talking about? And they were right behind the home team bench. Less than five feet--five freaking feet--away from the Davis University basketball team. It's almost as good as sitting on the bench. Or sitting behind the announcer's table. Or being on the court. Well, it's not that good, but close enough."
"What? Second row? How'd you manage to get them?"
"My neighbor. My ultra-rich neighbor. The guy used to work for one of those tech firms that went public and he got a load of stock options. He asked me if I wanted them since he couldn't make it to the game tonight. And then I realized I couldn't go either."
"Court side tickets? Second row? Right by the home team bench? Are your crazy? Given that or Trial Ad, I think I would have chose the basketball game. You should have skipped." O'Malley looked at Chris Prescott. "Um...I don't imply that a basketball game is more important than Trial Ad. This is a really fun and educational experience. Hey, Laura, help me here."
"Yeah right," retorted Laura. "Honey, as much as I love you, I'm not saving you from that."
"That's OK, Mr. Prescott. I didn't interpret your comments as meaning that." She flashed an evil grin at Chris Prescott. He was going to get a few knocks this week. "Now let's get on with the trials. We're doing Problem 5.15 first."
Oh fun. Jake was up first. He was the prosecutor and his star witness was an accomplice to a murder. The defendant and his star witness with the name of Edward Richards (all the names in the problems were pretty dull names) walked up to a police cruiser. The defendant, a Ralph Tyler (another dull name), pulled out a revolver and shot the police officer sitting inside. Richards was a lousy witness for several reasons. First, he was directly involved with the crime of murder. Second, as long as he tells the truth (something Mr. Richards had not done very well), he won't be prosecuted for murder. Great, his prize witness was a stool pigeon trying to save himself from the death penalty. Oh, by the way, he was convicted of burglary four years ago and he was caught running out of a liquor store with a gun in his hand. If that wasn't enough, he had lied twice while under oath, claiming he wasn't there at the scene of the crime and he knew nothing about the crime of murder. To sum up, Mr. Richards was a liar, a stool pigeon, and a convicted criminal who was trying to save himself from death row. He was a man who would do anything to save himself. Making this person sound credible was going to be tough, very tough. Then again, life worked that way, even in the real world. You can't change that.
That was Jake's problem. How do you get past those problems and blunt the negative impact of those problems? After some consideration, Jake decided that honesty was the best thing to do, at least when it came to the plea bargain and the contradictory statements. He was going to show all of those problems in his direct examination. If he kept silent over any of them, the other side (if they were smart, and he knew the other side was smart), would pounce and strike. It would be game over for Jake.
The prior conviction resulting in jail time, he would keep silent about. Jake knew his Evidence rules and the other side could not use the prior conviction for impeachment purposes. Since armed robbery was not a crime involving dishonesty or false statement, the defense had to pass a Rule 403 balancing test on truthfulness. This was a relatively tough test.
Jake did his direct examination. It went smoothly much to Jake's surprise. No hesitation. A good amount of eye contact with the witness. Despite not using a script, questions and answers came out smoothly. The other side tried to object and Jake thoroughly demolished their objections. O'Malley, the Trial Advocacy adjunct, looked pleased at his work.
He was on a roll. Jake thought that he might manage to go though this trial without making a mistake. He was feeling optimistic about this excellent possibility. He only had to get past the defense's cross examination and he was home free. Things were looking good. Wait. Unwarranted optimism was not a good thing, especially during a trial. Even if it was a mock trial that wasn't all that real.
The defense began their cross examination by asking several pointed questions about the witness's prior statements, just like Jake predicted. His witness managed to answer these questions without seriously hurting themselves. Good job. Very good job. Jake had no problems with these questions. No objections at all to these questions. His opponent, Anne Swanson, was smart and she didn't pull any punches. But because Anne didn't pull any punches, because she was so thorough in her questioning, her trial strategy was predictable. Jake knew she would ask a question about the prior conviction. It was going to come right about now.
"You've been convicted of armed burglary before?"
Bingo. Time to object. Jake jumped up and immediately objected.
"Objection, your honor. Improper impeachment."
In the real world, this objection would not have been necessary. In the real world, this question of the admissibility of the prior conviction would have been decided before the trial even started. This was done in an exclusionary hearing. There was a proper legal term for this evidentiary hearing, but the technical, legal term is really of no major importance. The judge would have heard oral arguments and seen the evidence and based upon the arguments, decided if the evidence was in or out. Then again, as stated earlier, this was law school and Trial Advocacy, so the rules of the real world do not apply. And so, due to this, the seeds for Jake's unfortunate incident were planted.
O'Malley said, "Counsel, your response?"
Swanson replied after some hesitation, "It is not improper impeachment."
"And what is your legal reasoning?"
"It is not improper impeachment because it is a prior conviction."
"Response, Mr. Lau?"
"Yes it is a prior conviction, but armed robbery is not a crime involving dishonesty or a false statement and besides, Ms. Swanson hasn't shown that armed robbery is a crime involving truthfulness."
"And what is your take, Ms. Swanson?"
"I would say that robbery is a crime involving truthfulness."
"Nope, it isn't. Crimes involving dishonesty or false statement are crimes that involve deceit or lying as an element. Last time I checked, these crimes traditionally are crimes like perjury, fraud, embezzlement, and such. Armed robbery is not one of those crimes."
"Counterpoint, Ms. Swanson?"
"Robbery does involve deceit, your honor."
At this moment, Jake is feeling the autopilot turn on his head, despite him flowing very well with his words and his mind. This generally foreshadows something about to go wrong. Jake has gone through this before by asking Professor Pearson about the Rule 403 balancing test. Professor Pearson gave an excellent academic answer and a sarcastic one. Jake probably should have paid more attention to the academic one as it mentioned several relevant cases.
"That's preposterous. Given that logic, then every single crime would be allowed in. Therefore, there would be no need for the Rule 403 balancing test on truthfulness. Besides, robbery, especially armed robbery, is as honest as it gets for a crime." Oh great, he just said something stupid. Get the words out as fast as possible to cover it up. Make sure nobody heard it. "Sure there are masks involved with this crime, but come on. You pull out a weapon, point it at the intended victim, and demand the goods. That's as honest as it gets. Robbery is an honest crime. I can't believe I just said that."
The small section burst out laughing at Jake's comments. Even the Trial Advocacy adjunct couldn't help but chuckle. Jake started to laugh as well. He had said something amusing, even preposterous, even highly amusing. He couldn't stop it once it started.
"Robbery? As an honest crime? Well," said O'Malley, "I must admit that I found your comments, how do I say it? They were...amusing. There were some very good legal arguments there. Your...common sense argument, though absolutely correct, would not pass by in court. I have to give a ruling, so I will rule that the objection is sustained."
Jake sat down. Despite his, well, little incident, he decided that it should be forgotten and the rest of the trial should proceed as if it didn't happen at all. O'Malley thought this was a good idea as well. The rest of the cross examination went smoothly, much better than certain parts. He made some more objections, though his reasoning was a lot less colorful than before. O'Malley decided that despite his slight mistake, he deserved an A for tonight's work. Not too bad.
"Jake. Mind being my partner for next week?"
"Not at all, Crystal."
"Great! And Jake, that was funny."
"I know."
"See you next week for Trial Advocacy. And remember, no honest crimes this time."
"Gotcha. See you later Crystal."

Interlude Two and Chapter Five

2007-04-30T16:15:00.000-07:00

INTERLUDE TWO: COULD YOU PLEASE STATE THAT IN ENGLISH?
Circumlocution, n. A literary trick whereby the writer who has nothing to say breaks it gently to the reader.
--Ambrose Bierce
We shall never understand one another until we reduce the language to seven words.
--Kahlil Gibran
Men are apt to believe what they least understand
--Montaigne
It helps greatly to use...a term not understood.
--Arnald of Villanova

According to the American Heritage College Dictionary, the word "communicate" is a verb stemming from the Latin word communis or common. One of the definitions of this word is "to express oneself in such a way that one is readily and clearly understood." Given the Latin stem and the definition of the word, one can assume that effective communication requires that both parties involved in the act understands each other. Without both parties understanding each other, there can be no effective communication. After all, if one or both parties do not understand each other, serious problems are a result.
Law school, like many professional schools like medical school, sadly, does not teach their students how to communicate effectively. The language taught at law school, commonly called "legalese," is akin to the language used in George Orwell's novel 1984. In 1984, the New World is a dystopian world where people blindly follow an all-powerful leader. The government controls everything. People think they are free, but they are not free. Everyone is forced to speak a language called NewSpeak, a language that covers the truth under a veil of smoke and mirrors. Cryptic brevity is the key to NewSpeak, a brevity that is frightening and numbs the speaker and listener to a mindless state.
In the article "English Is Our Second Language," the author writes about Medspeak, a brand of meaningless communication used in medical school and by doctors. Responses to the article expand on this topic. The simplest concept becomes a confusing, impressive, and intimidating concept. What has emotional impact when stated in simple English becomes neutral and harmless when spoken in Medspeak:
When do arms and legs become extremities? Why do patients ambulate, visualize, articulate and masticate when the rest of us walk, see, talk and chew?.... Little wonder that physicians are accused of dehumanizing patients.
Of course, these examples come from the medical realm, but legalese, just like Medspeak, is full of foreign phrases and specialized terms that only lawyers understand and what law students have to suddenly learn in their first year.
I, the author of this work, own a copy of Black's Law Dictionary. This is the seminal reference book when it comes to legal dictionaries. But instead of the handsome, full-sized, unabridged leather-bound edition, I own the pocket edition. This pocket edition is a worthy version as it is up-to-date, fully defines more than 10,000 terms, and every entry is straight from the Seventh Edition of Black's Law Dictionary. In essence, it is a compact version of the real thing. Sort of like an iPod Nano instead of a regular iPod. Nearly all of the functionality of the larger version, but in a smaller package.
But think about it. The smaller version has over 10,000 terms; many of these terms are terms that most people will not understand. One needs examples to understand how bad legalese can get.
It's not a job-related perk, it is an emolument. It is not work performed for free, it is pro bono. It is not an exact quote from a source, it is ipsissima verba. It is not personal property, it is chattel. They're not your children or descendants, but they're your progeny who might have come from a fertile octogenarian. But then again, the fertile octogenarian is a legal fiction that could violate the rule against perpetuities. Ah, but depending on your jurisdiction, they might have a cy pres rule meaning that the state you live in has a wait and see rule. If you want to transfer possession to someone, it is a form of delivery, but there are many forms of delivery, again, depending on your jurisdiction (the place where you live in).
How can one word have multiple meanings and multiple variants? Simple. This is the law we are talking about. One term can have multiple variants. Some words can have dozens of variations, each with a subtle difference in definition and a subtle different in usage.
Let's look at the word "delivery" as it was used in a previous paragraph. Certainly, it must mean only one thing: the actual, physical act of giving possession or a symbolic delivery like giving a deed. Right? Nope. A person who thinks this way is absolutely wrong. There are at least seven different kinds of delivery listed in Black's Legal Dictionary. By looking at the definition in Black's, one might think there is no difference between constructive and symbolic delivery. There is, however, a difference between the two types of delivery, though very subtle. This might seem like a rare case, but there are some other examples of this type of extreme hair splitting.
According to Black's, there is at least a dozen different types of proceedings, each of which are different in nature in subtle means. There are fourteen different kinds of consideration. There are sixteen types of easements in Black's. There are over two dozen different types of jurisdiction listed in Black's. There are at least thirty different kinds of contracts. There are over thirty different kinds of judgments, though the actual number might be larger. Surprisingly, according to Black's, there are nearly eighty (yes, eighty) different kinds of evidence. How can the normal person, let alone the lawyer or law school student understand these differences, let alone remember all of them?
The simple answer? They can't. Even the law school student or lawyer who is supposedly trained to understand these things. How is this possible? Law school is supposed to teach law school students so they are effective lawyers. Wrong. Law school does a poor job in teaching these differences.
Law school supposedly teaches the student the law and how to apply the law to the facts at hand. In addition to teaching the law, the professor will teach some things that are not useful or applicable. But they will treat every word they utter as something vital to the legal education. The implicit statement made in lectures is the following: "listen and remember every single detail as one day, this seemingly trivial bit of information may save a client." It's never a human being, but a client, a person who will bring in a certain amount of income.
Yes, the law school final emphasized the importantance of applying the law to fact patterns, but given a three hour time limit, the people who do well are those who remember the law and can write it down on paper as quickly as possible. Even when given the opportunity to use notes and any other source of information, it still is a test of speed. It is a case of memorize information and regurgitate all of it at the end of the semester. Pump it out during a three hour exam.
Basically, to succeed, memorize the text of a textbook, memorize the law from cases, memorize the material from lectures. Once examination time rolls around, quickly and efficiently write everything down on paper in the time limit allowed. Spew it all out on cue. Deliver it without complaint. If you don't think you really learned anything, it doesn't matter. Give the law like we want it.
Consider the following situation. An ordinary man, maybe an absentminded professor, is asking his lawyer about his will. He asks a simple question and the lawyer starts spouting off a lengthy series of legalese, legalese that is piled higher and deeper as the seconds and minutes pass by. The man is confused, but he nods in agreement, not understanding a single word.
At the end of the conversation, the lawyer says, "Now, do you have any questions?" The lawyer knows there will be questions as he used a whole bunch of legalese. Every question that is asked means more answers to give. This means another hour he can bill. Possibly even more.
The man, being patient, is miffed. He has gone through the routine before. This time, he has decided to turn the tables.
What is his response to the question? How does he respond to the lawyer's question.
He says, "Modo itera omnia quae mihi nunc nuper narravisti, sed nunc Anglice?"
The lawyer replies, "What did that mean? That was in some foreign language! I didn't understand a single word you said!"
"You didn't understand me at all? I thought you did!"
"No I didn't! What exactly did you say?"
"I told you in Latin to repeat everything you told me, but only this time, say it in English."
"Latin? You expect me to understand Latin? That's a foreign language!"
"Actually, I did. After all, you expect me to understand everything you say."
Yes, this may be an extreme example, even humorous to be considered seriously. But think about it. The legal language makes things so benign. But consider if we told everything in plain English that everyone could understand. One might feel differently about using legalese if we repeated to ourselves what it really meant. It's not about forfeiting the ownership rights to one's place of residence, it's losing a house. What you say, quite literally, can mean the difference between life and death. Or, if one puts it into legalese, the difference between having a formal stay of execution declared by the Governor or having all appeals denied up to the US Supreme Court and having the sentence involving capital punishment duly executed. Words do make a difference.

CHAPTER FIVE: BEING ONE WITH NATURE
My feeling is we ran from animals for three million years. It's out time now. If a cow could eat you, it would. And it wouldn't care how comfortable your truck ride over was, either.
--Greg Proops
Dolphin-safe tuna, that's a great thing if you're a dolphin. What if you're a tuna? Somewhere, there's a tuna flopping around a ship going, "what about me? I'm not cute enough for you?"
--Drew Carey
What should you do when you see an endangered animal that is eating an endangered plant?
--George Carlin

Jake and Clarissa were walking down Washington Street, carrying bags of various shapes and sizes. In these bags were stylish clothing, hip jewelry, sweet-smelling bath supplies, books of all types, and other assorted items from a hectic morning focused on shopping. To be honest, Jake was carrying all of the bags except for one small bag. This may seem like an unfair distribution (though roughly 50% of the population may disagree), but it didn't bother Jake.
He really didn't mind carrying the bags that much. In Jake's mind, doing such things like carrying a inordinately large amount of bags was an expected part of any functional relationship. Yes, carrying bags for a female was a task that should be performed with little complaining done. It kept Clarissa happy.
When she was happy, Jake was happy for obvious reasons. An angry woman, as one clever wit mentioned in a poem, was a woe to man. Jake had seen enough relationships go badly due to unhappy females. It was simple logic, but given the inductive reasoning and the evidence, it was sound logic. Because of this, he was going to try his best to keep Clarissa happy. Even if it meant spending all day carrying bags.
"Are you tired?"
"Nope, I'm perfectly fine. I don't mind."
"I don't know...it is warm today."
"Hmm...it is warm, though not that much. But it is nice today."
Blue skies. Wispy, feathery, white cirrus clouds floating in the sky. It was warmer than normal for a mid-September day. Right now, it was in the mid-sixties. This was according to the electronic billboard that displayed the time and temperature at the downtown branch of West Federal Bank. If every day was like this, Jake would be a happy man. This only happened in the movies or in a perfect world. But it wasn't a movie or a perfect world, so Jake made the most of these nice days.
The people on the news talked about the warm weather. Ooh...the weather, so important. Yes, there was a war in Iraq, genocide in Darfur, and people were dying in other places due to war and violence. But the weather was much more important to talk about. That and celebrity gossip like some pop star going around town without underwerar. Back to the weather.
Pundits said this warm weather was due to the effects of global warming. One of two days above normal and it's global warming. Crazy. Real crazy.
Maybe the pundits forgot that last week, it was below normal across most of the country. By their strange logic, the cooler temperatures were due to global warming. Go try and figure that logic out. Jake had a keenly logical mind but this was one conundrum he could not figure out. He was of the opinion that maybe humans should see what the climate is really like in the future. Until then, it can't be considered global warming. It was a good sign of global warming, not global warming itself.
"It is nice today. I think I see your car."
"Mind if you open the trunk? It's kinda hard to get my keys you know."
"Oh sure."
Clarissa took his car keys from his pocket and opened the trunk. Jake carefully placed the bags into the trunk of his car. One cannot be too careful with such things. His car trunk, like the rest of his car, was clean, virtually spotless. Everything was neatly organized, not a thing out of place.
"So, where do you want to go? It's a little past noon."
"How about some lunch? There's a great Indian restaurant nearby called Tandoor. It just opened last week and I loved the food there. Food that will make smoke come out of your ears."
"Really? I've never ate a restaurant that managed to do that. But I'm willing to take that challenge."
"Then let's go."
Jake was suspicious of any claim of "food so hot/spicy that it can bring tears to anyone's eyes," let alone smoke from the ears. He had eaten at restaurants (mainly Indian and Thai) that claimed a dish was hot. When he tried the particular dish, he was disappointed by the heat level. Maybe it was hot to the Wonder Bread and Cheese Whiz crowd, but it was mild to him. He had eaten much hotter fare while in Great Britain.
This country is maligned as a country infested with bland, horrible food, but this was far from the truth. For a country that was cursed with blandness, Great Britain was blessed with great Indian and Thai places that served hot and spicy fare. The proper level should be so hot that it hurt. If it didn't feel like one was consuming lava, it wasn't right. The British thought this was the way things ought to be and he had to agree with them. The British also made excellent ales that quelled the heat so this additional fact might have colored his judgment towards the right level of spiciness.
His suspicions were dispelled once he walked through the door. The mellow scent of clarified butter and nutty yeast coming from naan baking on a tandoor. The pungent and distinct smell of allspice, tumeric, and coriander. The intense punch of curry and garam masala. The heat of chilies. This place was authentic Indian. No weak food was being served in this place.
They quickly found a table and a waiter efficiently gave them menus. Quick service.
Jake skimmed through the menu and found what he wanted.
"I would like the naan and the lamb vindaloo."
"Lamb vindaloo?" His tone suggested that Jake made a mistake, like Jake was a customer who made a mistake in ordering. "And how spicy would you like it?"
"As spicy as possible, please."
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Of course. Vindaloo is supposed to be hot."
"OK...naan and lamb vindaloo, very hot." A hint of apprehension. "And you, maam?"
"The samosas and the butter chicken."
"Excellent choice. And to drink?"
"I'd like the iced tea. What would you like Jake?"
"The same."
"Very good. Two iced teas. One naan. One samosa. One butter chicken and one lamb vindaloo."
While eating his lamb vindaloo (properly made and fiery), Jake overheard a crazy conversation. The group at the nearby table looked like normal people. From the suits they wore, they looked like professionals. In fact, they were scientists at a local medical firm. They were apparently vegetarians as Jake noted that they were eating navrattan, an Indian dish of nine vegetables in red sauce. In addition, they were ardent environmentalists. Nothing odd about that, especially in a college town with a reputation for being ultra liberal in a decidedly conservative state. There were a few stereotypical tree-huggers and granola eaters in this city. What made their conversation creepy was the fervent level they took their passion. It sounded laughable at first, but once you listened to it and how seriously they took their beliefs, the conversation became scary.
The first person, Red Hair, talked about how he went on vacation in Colorado, way up in the Rocky Mountains. The Rocky Mountains were beautiful, a lovely shade of purple with white caps of snow sitting on top. Amazingly blue skies, awesomely green trees, the refreshingly clean air filled with the scent of pine trees and the crisp smell of ozone. And then he ranted about how he visited Utah and in the middle of nowhere, he saw an ugly cloud of smog. It was disgusting.
Jake could agree with this. He had spent many vacations in Colorado, in the mountain, enjoying the clean air and the beautiful sights. Nature was a splendid thing. At its best, the planet was beautiful. He truly appreciated the splendor of it all. God was a brilliant artist. It was a shame to sully nature with strip mines and coal mines and power plants that shoot smoke and other chemicals in the air.
Blond hair man thoroughly agreed with these sentiments. And he added in how, when he first came here, he admired the variety of wildlife here. All the animals and wild game. He wanted to get up close and actually touch and feel the animals. Even now, after ten years here, he still was in awe of these animals.
Here, Jake was a little leery and in disbelief. Yes, there were many pretty animals in this part of the world. Deer and antelope and such. The birds were nice as well. There were, however, some very ugly animals, some very dangerous animals that he did not want to get close to. He wasn't much of a wildlife expert, but he knew there were several species of rattlesnakes (including two varieties of the aggressive and deadly diamondback), copperheads, cottonmouths, and some others he vaguely remembered. Jake definitely didn't want to get up and close to those animals. He had seen many beautiful things in his life like paintings, statues, symphonies, and buildings. The Sistine Chapel, the cave paintings at Lascaux, the Paris Opera House was just as beautiful. Much more worthy of serious discussion.
A man with a face like a rat joined in the polemic against modern man. Certain chemicals should be banned as they caused untold environmental destruction. Ah, but these modern chemicals were everywhere. Every modern convenience, many of which they probably used in their lives, needed these chemicals. The air filtering system used chemicals. The disinfectants used chemicals. Everything in their labs were based upon these modern chemicals. They probably used air conditioning. Even if the system didn't use CFCs, the substitute chemicals were just as bad, if not worse. Give up air conditioning? Not when it regularly reached the triple digits in the summer. Jake had spent time in the Death Valley area and trying to survive five minutes without air conditioning was torture.
But don't forget the hydroelectric power dams said the Red Hair man. Those people were evil, absolutely pure evil. The people who built and designed them were just as bad as Nazi war criminals. Everyone at the table nodded. Jake found their logic crazy. Yes, it was bad that rivers had to be dammed. It was bad that land got flooded. But it was a hydroelectric power dam. These dams generated electricity and people needed electricity. Hydroelectric power was clean and efficient, much cleaner than coal and oil. And it probably rankled less people than nuclear reactors.
Another round of agreement. What made them wacko in Jake's opinion was their undying love of all creatures on the planet Earth except humans. Well, not all humans. Their kind were absolutely fine, but everyone else, they were rotten. According to their logic, humans were like parasites. They destroyed everything they touched. They killed off animals and plants in large numbers. Because of this, humans had lost their right to live on Earth.
What the hell, thought Jake. This was messed up. There were numerous mass extinction’s on the planet Earth and they certainly weren't caused by humans, unless some managed to travel back in time to the age of dinosaurs. Shifting plates, asteroid impacts, and the resulting rapid climate change caused many of the mass extinctions in the past. The pre-Cambrian mass extinction wiped out 90% of the species living on the Earth and humans weren't involved in that. The Cretaceous extinction that wiped out the dinosaurs were the result of asteroid impacts and volcanic eruptions. No humans involved there. Mother Nature killed a lot of animals and plants, but you didn't hear the wacko environmentalists complain about the killer asteroids and lethal volcanoes.
Here, here, said the men. They all agreed that animals had rights. Plants had rights. We love all animals and plants of all types.
What the hell? Absolute rubbish. Prairie dogs and squirrels didn't file motions to prevent hawks from eating them. Hyenas didn't ask wildebeest if they could hunt one of their young or crippled members. No police was going to stop the rats from eating corn in a field. You didn't see a woodpecker sue oak trees for exuding sap that prevented them from pecking into trees. A right to live? Roaches deserved to live? Pest exterminators that killed cockroaches were murderers? Face to face with a spitting cobra, maybe an inland taipan, one of the deadliest snakes in the world? Hug a vial filled with Class Four bio-agents? Get personal with something like an STD? He doubted their sentiments.
Jake would like to see how they would react if their houses were infested with roaches, poisonous spiders, and other assorted insects and arthropods. Love all animals and plants? Jake liked certain animals more than other animals. Some he would like dead. He still wouldn't love poisonous animals and plants. He wouldn't love roaches. Most bacteria and viruses were non grata. Ebola wasn't something he would like to get well acquainted with, not in a billion, let alone a trillion lifetimes. Forget it.
The three men left and paid for their meals. Jake was relieved by this. He doubted he could stay calm with them sitting so close to him.
Clarissa asked, "So, how do you like the food here?"
Jake replied, "Excellent. It reminds me of the Indian food they serve in London."
"I told you the food was that good." She wiped up the rest of the butter sauce from her plate using some of Jake's naan. Then she added, as if she were reciting items from a grocery list, "You know those people sitting there? They were odd. Real creepy."
"I know. Those guys were ultra-fanatics. I wouldn't be surprised if they did some eco-terrorism. You know, the nails in trees, the liberation of animals, that kind of stuff."
"Yeah. I've read about them in one of my environmental law classes."
"Definitely strange. I think we might see them in the papers one of these days."
"I know. But enough about them. Was it hot enough for you?"
"Hmm. It was fiery, but not so hot that it was unpalatable. Could probably use a little more."
"What? Are you crazy?"
"Nope. It wasn't that hot. I've had hotter." He noted the time. "It's one PM right now. I think that your photos should be done by now."
At that moment, as if the waiter could predict when they were done, showed up at that time with the bill.
"And here is your bill. Did you find everything to your liking?"
Clarissa decided to answer. "Everything was delicious.""And you, sir. Was it too spicy?"Jake answered. "Nope, not too spicy. Almost as good as homemade."
"I shall tell the cooks of your approval."
And with that, the waiter left.
"You know, Clarissa, I think I'll pay for the bill. It's not that much."
"Fine with me. Where do you want to go next?"
"Where ever you want to go. Any place is fine with me."
And so, Jake and Clarissa left Tandoor (of course, after Jake paid the bill) in a happy mood. A good meal could do wonders. They walked out, hand in hand. Jake felt the sun streaming down on his face. Today was a good day. He could get used to this kind of weather, global warming or not. If it was global warming, that was fine. He would adapt. Humans did a good job in adapting.

Gray Hall II: Chapter Four

2007-02-15T14:28:00.000-08:00

Like a dry sponge in an ocean you swell courageously with information that seems always relevant and fascinating until every pore of your being is engorged and a wave crashed your tiny remains into the drowning darkness. Oh, sure, there is a lot of information that you need to be proficient at your job; well suck it up, others have done it. Yes, but we all have scars.
--J.A. Knight, Doctor-to-be: Coping with the Trials and Triumphs of Medical School
Too many facts are being taught too thoughtlessly, in too short a time.
--M. Konner, Becoming a Doctor: A Journey of Initiation in Medical School

"What time is it?"
"It's 9:05." Jake checked his watch again. "Professor Bahari is late. I think he's late. Shouldn't he have been here like at 9:00? That's what I got from his lecture last week."
"Yeah, you're right. What do you think he's doing right now?"
"I don't know. Maybe he's writing another book or another chapter."
Eric Guzman laughed. "That's a good one. He probably is."
"Yeah, another massive book about GATT. Where does he find the time to write?"
"Seriously, I just don't know. Maybe that's why he doesn't answer e-mails and only has office hours on Mondays and Tuesdays."
"Maybe. Oh, I think he's coming in right now."

Professor Bahari came rushing into the classroom. He was carrying a massive textbook (written by him in less than a year, in addition to several well-received law journal articles), a massive statute supplement (edited by him as well), a binder filled stuffed with papers, and the ever-present container of liquid containing caffeine. Jake had never seen Professor Bahari without a large cup of coffee, a bottle containing iced tea, or a can of soda (Diet Coke as Davis University was getting funds from Coca Cola).
Since he had a proper British education, Professor Bahari picked up some British customs. He cultivated a precise sense of order and precise logic, but he also picked up the mannerisms of a stereotypical Cambridge professor. Things like absent mindedness and cultured casualness. Some might add in the insufferable attitude common to certain members of British society. Things like smugness, intellectual pompousity, and being an all-around arrogant pain in the ass, although highly intelligent. Jake wasn't sure about this as Jake didn't know him well enough. He would come up with his own conclusions.
"I was supposed to be here at 9:00 AM, right?"
The entire class nodded.
"And we decided on this last week, correct?"
The entire class nodded again.
"Ah, I thought that something was wrong. I had this feeling that I was missing something."
Everyone nodded sympathetically. Of course, people forgot things. Then again, some were just feigning sympathy. This was coming from the same professor who emphatically told everyone that punctuality was an important quality in lawyers and that he wouldn't tolerate habitual tardiness. Then again, he didn't do anything about that one guy in class who consistently showed up late, made funny bird noises during class, and basically interrupted class by asking questions that would put Shaffer to shame. So much for setting an example.
"Let me explain why I was late. As you may know, I regularly converse with trade lawyers around the world and I spend a lot of time writing books and articles on trade law. Well, I am currently writing a book about the impact of free trade and globalization with respect to the International Monetary Fund. Well, to make a long story short, I was doing research and writing a chapter for the new book.
But enough about that. Let's begin with today's lecture. But first, I have to put a little information on the chalkboard first."
This was not going to be fun. Anytime a law school professor, especially one who has a reputation for being an academic show-off among students and professors alike, says "a little," one should expect more than "some." One should expect a lot, a whole lot. Jake thought that he was getting very little in law school sometimes given the amount of actual information learned in typical lectures. Professor Bahari, however, was a professor who tried to cram as much information as possible into his classes. His classes were like the old circus gag involving clowns and tiny VW Beetles. Just when you thought the car was empty, another clown popped out. This kept on going for an inhumanly long amount of time. Seeing clowns were amusing. Trying to comprehend a dense lecture filled with acronyms and technical arcana was a much different story.
Maybe the apt simile was more akin to siege warfare. Imagine a castle surrounded by a mass of angry warriors intent on storming the gates and climbing over the walls. One wave attacks and is repulsed. Another wave. And another wave. Over and over again. Sooner or later, one side will ultimately win and in general, it's the human wave. An overwhelming swarm that overpowers the other side. Jake prepared himself for the onslaught.

This is the information written on the board that Professor Bahari considered "a little" information. All of it was considered fair game for the final:
Two Important Dates
1. October 30, 1947
2. January 1, 1948HISTORICAL BACKGROUND, PRE-GATT
I. Trading Blocs
II. WWI and the importance of trading blocs
III. Post WWI
A. Treaty of Versailles
B. John Maynard Keynes, Economic Consequences of the Peace
C. October 1929, Stock Market Crash, Dust Bowl
D. Herbert Hoover
1. Tariff Act of 1930 (a.k.a Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act)
2. Still on record, "Column Two" Non-MFN
3. "beggar thy neighbor" policy, economic problems around world
4. Smoot-Hawley + world market + monetary policy = financial disaster made worse
E. Cordell Hull
1. Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act of 1934
2. Problem with Article I, Section 8, Clause 3 of Constitution
IV. World War II
A. Atlantic Charter involving Churchill and FDR
B. Protectionism is bad
C. Bilateral vs. Multilateral
GATT PREPARATORY CONFERENCESMore Important Dates
1946--London
1947--Geneva
1948--Havana Charter leads to ITO (fails) but GATT takes over as provisional document
GATT/PRE WTO
Contracting Parties v. CONTRACTING PARTIES
Foreign Treaties and Congress
Early Problems involving Third World Countries and tariff problems.
-Related to European Union CAP program
-Socialism as a powerful economic idea in Third World
-Colonial masters, slow negotiation process
TOKYO ROUND
Non-tariff Barriers lead to anti-dumping and legal remedies
1. bound rate
2. applied rate
3. % cut
URAGUAY ROUND15 April 1994--Marrakesh Protocols
1 Jan 1995--Start of WTO

To the normal person, this might be considered a complex, fully detailed, and complete lecture and not just a rough outline. To Professor Bahari, however, not being a normal person by any means, this was a rough outline and a basis for a complete lecture that should take about 90 minutes. This is what he planned to do, but it never happened. A lecture that should have taken one class period (in Professor Bahari's estimates) took two, maybe three days.
Even then, it was amazing how much Professor Bahari still managed to cram into a 90 minute lecture. Well, it should have been a 90 minute lecture, but he consistently ran over 90 minutes. And this was coming from a professor who was a supposed stickler for punctuality.
To transcribe the entire lecture given by Professor Bahari this day would have been too much. For the students, the lecture was a form of torture, mainly information overload of the highest degree. To subject the people reading this to an entire lecture would have been torture as well, if not worse. A short sampling for a Professor Bahari lecture, only five or ten minutes worth would suffice. After reading this short excerpt, one will appreciate the serious omission of a large portion of text. In addition, this short excerpt will give the reader an excellent education in the history of international trade law.
If one is prone to insomnia, reading this excerpt may prove to be helpful in bringing a more relaxing sleep. One should ask their doctor if any adverse reactions may occur if this is taken in conjunction with any prescribed sleeping medicines:

The hsitory of GATT and multilateral trade begins with colonialism and the trading blocs that Adam Smith and David Ricardo talked about in their seminal works on economics. Namely, The Wealth of Nations by Smith and On the Principles of Political Economy and Taxation. We have talked about their ideas in earlier lectures.
Because of mercantilism and the associated empire building, the great empires of the world were protecting their empires by creating trade blocs. Namely, they gave preferential treatment to their colonies and excluded everyone else. For example, the country of Great Britain had their imperial preference. If they wanted sugar, they would go to Bermuda or Barbados and get their sugar cane from there. In return, if one of their colonies wanted British products like textiles, the colony would get their product from Britain. What kind of duty would be charged in this case? Nothing.
On the other hand, if a company from France needed a bolt of cotton cloth and they bought it from an English firm, the French firm would be charged the price of the cloth plus additional fees.
These blocs soon evolved into defense alliances and instead of trade, the blocs soon became militaristic in nature. Bullets replaced bread. Guns and steel replaced grapes and shoes. Colonies and empires were fortresses. And then came World War I.
In 1919, after World War I, soon came the Treaty of Versailles. One should read Guns of August by Tuchman and The First World War by Keegan for some insight into this time period that changed the world in more than one way. The winners did not break their trade blocs as they were the winners. Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire lost their trade blocs. Germany bore the brunt of the impact.
The Allies made Germany pay high costs of reparations, though Galbraith says that it wasn't so bad after all. His view is controversial, though Galbraith enjoys the attention as he is an iconoclast. John Maynard Keynes wrote Economic Consequences of the Peace. The main point of this work states that the Treaty of Versailles was bad news and would lead to dangerous consequences. It was a Carthagenian Peace, one that refers to the Punic Wars and Carthage being razed into the ground with salt plowed into the earth so not a trace remained. Basically, to use Latin (a rough version of it), Germany, just like Carthage, was raptus regaliter and totus anctus. Or roughly translated, Germany, like Carthage, was royally screwed and in a world of hurt.
Now, let's fast forward to October 1929. The stock market crash and before this, the disastrous Dust Bowl. Absolute economic havoc in the United States economy. Now, there is no definition for "depression" in economic, but there is one for recession: two consecutive quarters of negative gross national product or GNP.
Herbert Hoover decides to raise the tariff barriers to solve the depression problem. The result in the Tariff Act of 1930, commonly called the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act. These are the highest tariffs in United States history and they are still on record. In trade law parlance, they are "column two" or non-MFN tariff rates.
And the results? Everybody else raises their tariffs. It's the classic reaction. Just like a chain reaction or toppling over dominoes. Everyone begins to raise tariffs and instead of helping the situation, it becomes worse, much worse. The major export at the time is unemployment and not trade. They call it the "beggar thy neighbor" policy. I'm poor and miserable. I'm going to screw the other person and make them poor as well. See The World in Depression by Kindleberger for more information as well.
The result of this bad economic policy? Smoot-Hawley plus world markets plus monetary policy equals a bad situation made worse. Economic disaster compounded to a higher degree.

Had fun reading that? Anyone who happened to enjoy that might be interested in the fast and furious world of international trade law. The rest, well, there are other fields of law that might be of interest. Jake was barely maintaining a functional level of consciousness by the third or fourth paragraph. It was less interesting in the verbal form. All that information getting rammed into his head and the heads of fifteen other students at 9:00 AM in the morning. Jake was a morning person and he functioned quite well early in the morning, but even he had limits.
The previous was just a representative sample of an average five to ten minutes in Bahari's class. Imagine an entire 90 minute lecture, just as information dense as this sample. But this is just the beginning of the information overload.
To be perfectly honest, the lectures were the Reader's Digest version of the textbook assignments. The textbook for the class was written by Professor Bahari and it was much more dense with information. This, amazingly, was considered the simple version, the easy to understand version. The average textbook chapter was written in hard to read 10 point font with 8 point font footers, in single spaced paragraph. It was painful to read and painful to understand. Printing an excerpt from the textbook might make this chapter the equivalent of an instrument of torture. But back to the present and to the class from Hell, the classic case of information overload.

"The Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act of 1934 gave President Roosevelt, FDR, the power to negotiate reductions of trade barriers in bilateral agreements. Now, can anyone explain why this power is so extraordinary?" This was Professor Bahari.
Oh great. A question asked by a professor that requires knowledge of some point not covered in a previous class. It probably had something to do with the United States Constitution.
"Who should I ask? Now let's look at the seating chart list. Hmm...I think I shall ask Ms. Carpenter. You have the option of asking for advice from an associate in this class."
Sara Carpenter. One of the girls in his small section. The girl who persuaded him to volunteer for the Davis Law Talent Show. Sarah Carpenter was currently working at the county's District Attorney office and living out her dreams of a Law and Order episode, though she mentioned her job was like a massive episode of Boston Legal, but without William Shatner. Jake liked her as she was a true character, an eccentric, quirky person who was a fan of pirates and good English beers, but without the overtones of "the bizarre old lady with a hundred cats."
"Uh, I honestly don't have a clue. I was working at the county DA's office last night and well...you know. I would like to defer the question to someone else."
"Who would you like to defer to as co-counsel?"
"Let me see..." Everyone in the class was silently praying that she would pass over them. "Um, Jake, sorry to do this, but the question is all yours."
"No appologies needed in this class. Mr. Lau, can you answer the question about the Reciprocal Trade Agreement Act of 1934?"
To Jake's mind, the answer was obvious. He actually remembered something from Constitutional Law about the Constitution. Then again, he might have learned this earlier and just remembered it. Constitutional Law was a class that seriously inhibited learning of any type except that inflicting boredom could be considered a form of torture. The answer invovled Article I, Section 8 of the United States Constitution. Article I was about Congress and Section 8 talked about the powers of Congress.
"It's because Article I, Section 8 says that only Congress has the power to regulate trade with foreign nations. The President doesn't have that power. That's what makes that act so unusual. But I'm sure this power is temporary and it expires. To get the power back, Congress has to approve this granting of trade negotiation powers."
"That is correct. And would you know when this power expires?"
"I'm not sure. It probably must be very soon. It explains why people say that the Doha Rounds might fail and why everyone is pushing so hard to get an agreement hammered out."
"Yes. It ends on June 30, 2007. And now, let's talk about World War II and the Atlantic Charter." Professor Bahari looked at his watch. "Ah, it seems as if I have gone over and this lecture will have to continue tomorrow. Good bye."

Jake noted that he had typed out five pages of notes. He would try to look over them tonight to see if they made any sense. Maybe not. Given the current state of his head at this moment, looking over them might cause some serious problems in comprehension. He would probably wait until the weekend to look over them. To use the Latin that Professor Bahari used, his head was raptus regaliter and totus anctus. Definitely royally screwed and in a world of hurt. Jake felt that his head was like Carthage after the Romans burned it down and plowed salt into it. It was time to decompress in Trial Advocacy. The lecture for that class required little thinking. He needed it right now.

Chapter Three

2007-01-29T11:07:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER THREE: REMEMBRANCES OF CHOCOLATE PAST
I'm addicted to chocolate; I used to snort cocoa.
--Marilyn
Scientists say that chocolate affects your brain the same way sex does. Which means that after they eat a Snickers, guys roll over and go to sleep. And women ask the wrapper, "What are you thinking?"
--Jim Wyatt
Everyone love Hershey's Kisses and Hugs. I'm waiting for Hershey's Gropes.
--Myq Kaplan

Jake and Clarissa were outside, sitting on a bench and enjoying lunch. In their part of the world, the end of August meant temperatures consistently in the nineties with a heat index in the triple digits. At noon, it still would be much too hot to spend much time outside. Summer faded reluctantly, very reluctantly into the fall and summer made its presence known.
The summer was like an enraged anti-WTO protester kicking and screaming while being dragged off by the Seattle police. Those who pay attention to international trade would know how apt this analogy was. Free trade, for some reason, got people angry and sometimes, the more politically active protesters (think black-clad anarchists intent on causing property damage) needed some encouragement (please read ahead to discover what is defined as encouragement) to leave the premises. At the 1999 WTO meetings in Seattle dubbed the Millennium Rounds by the WTO, it was absolute mayhem.
Well, the phrase "absolute mayhem" might be a misnomer. This was just a small sampling of what occurred in Seattle. Choking clouds of tear gas. Liberal amounts of pepper spray. Riot police clad in body armor and armed with extendible batons. Rioters throwing rocks and other melee weapons commonly found on the streets. Property damage caused by Molotov cocktails and people being shoved through plate glass windows. The sea of humanity screaming and protesting on the streets. Camcorders and cameras covering these events. Now imagine a season acting that fiercely before being replaced by another in nature's natural progression. You'll get an idea of what the seasons are like in this part of the world.
But today, in one of those rare occasions, summer was subdued and temporarily knocked out by a liberal dose of chloroform. The forecasted high was 78 degrees, a temperature that was warm, but not hot. After a week of temperatures near the triple digits, this was a refreshing and welcome change. With the sun shining and with a slight breeze blowing, it was perfect weather to have lunch outside. One cannot let such perfect weather opportunities go to waste, especially in law school. And hence, having a relatively leisurely lunch outdoors. Kind of like a quasi-picnic.
A picnic that would have been inside, had it not been for the fine weather. Being in a good mood, Jake had decided to make lunch.

"You know, this bread is great. What kind of bread was this again?" This was Clarissa.
"Honey multi-grain." This was Jake.
"So where did you get this?"
"Get this? What do you mean by that?"
Jake was confused by this question. He did not buy this bread as one could not buy this kind of bread from a store. Bread was one of those things that he was picky about. The prepackaged Wonder bread commonly found in stores did not constitute bread in his personal opinion. Everything in life, from physical objects to physical actions had to be done in a certain way or look in a certain manner or it just wasn't right in Jake's mind. This system was extremely rigid, extremely crystalline, and for the most part, set in stone. He did allow for some exceptions.
For instance, stouts like Guinness, had to be served cool, but not icy cold. In addtion to being served at the right temperature, this drink should be served with a head of foam. Not more than a half-inch, but a quarter-inch of foam was ideal in Jake's mind. The ideal Guinness came straight from a tap, but that was not possible in many cases. Jake had tried the bottled version and he found that to be an excellent substitute, though not the same as the version from the tap. This was as much leeway he would give.
He tried to describe this mental schema to people and they would look at him funny. Clarissa was used to his, as she put it, "unusual quirks," but at times, these quirks managed to confuse her. One person, quite possibly the only person who did not consider it unusual or confusing was a philosophy major who dabbled in the classics, particularly the ancient Greek works. As he put it, Jake's mental schema "was similar to Plato's Idea of the Forms, but with a much higher emphasis on personal aesthetic standards that the satisfaction of which led to personal enjoyment." Whatever the hell that meant.
"I mean, what store did you buy this bread from?"
From the look in his face, Clarissa correctly determined that Jake took time from his life to make and bake it. She had a knack for nonverbal communication. That or Jake was lousy in hiding nonverbal cues. Both possibilities were likely.
She continued by saying, "Don't tell me you baked it. When do you even find time to do stuff like this?"
"I baked it and I found time this weekend. The recipe was relatively simple. No kneading required. Just leave it alone overnight and bake it the next morning."
"Oh God. This is just crazy." She looked exasperated. "Do you make everything you eat?"
He tried to grow a garden once when he was a kid, but that experience turned out bad. Apparently, Jake didn't have a green thumb and he didn't have much patience either. One of these days, he would try again. But not now.
"Not really. That would be crazy. I buy some packaged food, but it's mainly frozen vegetables. Maybe cereal like Cheerios because I don't like the sugary stuff. That's pretty much it."
"OK...that's nice to know." Clarissa figured that Jake's need for the ideal loaf of bread and the associated eccentricities involving food were one of his quirks. They were harmless and they weren't that strange. These quirks resulted in excellent food, which was a good thing. "I guess it must be part of your mental schema."
"Pretty much."
"It seems obsessive, at least for a loaf of bread."
"Yes, but for a loaf of bread this good, it was well worth it."
"Um...I guess." She thought it was a bit too much. "You really must be a foodie or something."
"Well, you could say that." He wasn't going to win her over to his viewpoint. "If you thought the bread was great, get ready for dessert."

Jake wasn't sure if he was a foodie. He did take a certain amount of pride in his cooking skills. There was an amount of obsessive-compulsive tendencies when it came to cooking, at least in Jake's mind. He took a perverse level of pleasure in making perfectly shaped cubes. It was an art to know when there was enough seasoning or that a steak was medium-rare just be looking at it. Taking time to find the freshest produce out of an entire aisle. Maybe this applied when it came to food preparation, but Jake thought it was mandatory and that it came naturally.
In order to cook food of the best quality, one needs to find the best quality ingredients. No matter how one tries, one cannot create an excellent meal from poor ingredients. For example, if one wants a salad, one does not pick out wilted lettuce. One does not use a hard tomato. One does not use rancid olive oil for dressing, let alone use moldy bread for croutons (if one likes croutons and Jake was not one of those people). One would not eat that salad, let alone serve it to friends or family. On the other hand, if one has the freshest products, one had to prepare them in the correct manner. Using the salad example, it makes no sense to use gritty, dirty lettuce. The same applies to the other vegetables. One can turn great ingredients into slop if they were not prepared correctly. If that meant being a foodie, then he was a foodie.
Then again, Jake wasn't overly obsessive with cooking and food. He didn't take his obsession with food to illogical extremes. Jake knew some people who would go to great lengths just to find a certain kind of sea salt gathered only at the break of dawn. In his opinion, that was too obsessive and insane. Food was a source of nourishment and enjoyment, not some object of extreme mystification. As much as Jake wanted to find the best of everything, he wasn't going to consider finding a ripe melon like it was a quest for the Holy Grail. There were certain celebrity chefs who thought this was the case. One chef went so far as to think that one should not pick ripe fruit unless they truly understood the concept of ripeness was. Jake had read many ridiculous statements in his life, but this was beyond his levels of tolerance. If that was being a foodie, he definitely was not one of these types of people.

Clarissa said, "Let's see what you prepared for dessert today. From the scent, I can tell it involves chocolate."
"Absolutely correct."
"Is it what I think it is?" She dug deeper into the lunch bag. "Yes it is. Brownies."
"Not just any brownies, but the special recipe brownies."
Jake's special recipe contained a hefty dose of chocolate, enough to make an ardent chocoholic float several feet in the air. High quality cocoa powder, a good dose of melted bittersweet chocolate, and lots of milk chocolate chunks. Lots of chocolate.
"Have you ever thought about being a cook?'
"Actually, I have...many times."
Jake wanted to change the subject as he hated venturing into this topic. It reminded him that he could have been happier doing something different with his life instead of law.
"So why not cooking?"
"I'm not sure. I guess that I have talent in so many subjects that it was hard to focus on just one topic or two. Everyone has told me I should do this or that. English professors. History professors. Math teachers. Some art teachers. I guess that I chose law for some reason. I wonder what it would be like if I chose something else. I think my life would be different, a lot different." Jake paused for a moment. "Who knows? It's likely that I wouldn't have met you. So I guess that law school was good for something."
"I don't know about that. It's possible we could have met."
"No, I don't think so. Trust me on this. Definitely trust me on this." He looked at his brownie. "Better eat your brownie."

Jake watched Clarissa eat her brownie. For some reason, he had no appetite for his. Getting overly philosophical over law school and whether he was living his life right did wonders. Jake was not a person who ate when he got depressed.
Clarissa had a self-described chocolate eating ritual that never failed to amuse Jake. Eating chocolate in any form, according to Clarissa, wasn't an ordinary event but a ritual that approached religious significance. It was strange to Jake that Clarissa considered his quirks unusual. Jake certainly didn't have a chocolate eating ritual. He didn't have rituals for eating anything. As strange as he found her chocolate eating ritual to be, he found it endearing in an odd sort of way. It added a certain level of quirkiness that Jake liked in people. This probably explained why Jake liked his women to be "strange" and that a lot of his friends (both female and male, generally female) were a little on the unusual side. They were like an unusual brew, a strong cup of tea that might not appeal at first taste, but took a while to get used to. Quirky was a good thing in his book.
But back to Clarissa's chocolate eating ritual. She would examine the chocolate object and carefully look over it. The visual examination was important as it allowed her to judge if it was worth eating. Then she would smell it, inhaling the heady fragrance. And then, only then, once her nostrils were filled with the scent of chocolate, would Clarissa begin eating the chocolate.
Depending on what form the chocolate came in, Clarissa would eat it in a certain way. If it was a piece of pure chocolate, she would nibble at it, letting the nibs melt in her mouth, savoring every bite. If it was Jake's flourless chocolate torte, it was small bites again, but consumed in a different manner. No matter what the form, Clarissa maximized the experience. A little chocolate ecstasy in every bite.
Ah, the esctasy induced by chocolate. This was a phenomena that mainly struck women. Men, for some reason, were generally immune from the chocolate induced esctasy. Maybe you might hear a few words like "This is good," but women were more vocal as well as more physical in showing their pleasure. A whole lot more vocal and physical in their reaction.
There were many physical reactions that were the symptoms of chocolate induced euphoria. It was an amazing sight for Jake. Truly, it was a visual feast for those that watched a woman in chocolate induced euphoria. There were the closed eyes, that, if they were open, would look slightly glazed, but focused on a distant point. There was the grin (like a cat enjoying a bowl of cream) that only those who ate chocolate got after savoring a bite. There was the look of intense pleasure that spread across the face, one that could be interpreted as a kind of religious rapture. For those who enjoyed chocolate, eating this substance was a religious experience, a Communion invovling cocoa.
There was something about the chocolate-induced state of bliss that bothered Jake. Every single female Jake has known, especially those who tried the flourless chocolate torte, went into this state. When Jake first saw Clarissa enter this state, he thought she was going to collapse and fall onto her knees. There was something vaguely, no, there was something sensual about it. Watching a person (always female as men
rarely entered this state) enter that state, in his opinion, felt oddly voyeuristic. And yet, he never got tired of watching this reaction. Maybe it was just him and his mind was wired differently.
"Hey, you didn't eat your brownie. Mind if I have it?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
"Oh, today is my lucky day. You know, I think I might skip exercising today."
Jake handed Clarissa his brownier. If she wanted it, he was going to give it to her. He wasn't going to deny her a brownie. One does not keep a woman away from her chocolate.
Clarissa happily ate another brownie. Jake had never seen a happier person in his entire life. He felt a little better right now. At least one person was happy in his world.

Once Clarissa finished her second brownie, Jessica happened to walk by. Jake, being social, decided to have a conversation with her.
"Hi, Jessica? How are you?"
"Oh, hi Jake! Hi Clarissa! Doing fabulous. And how are you doing?"
Jake said, "Doing fine."
Clarissa said, "Great. I just had two brownies. They were excellent."
"Lucky you. And you didn't save any?"
"Nope. As much as I love you, I ate them all."
Jake asked, "I had fun at your birthday party. By the way, did you enjoy the flourless chocolate torte I brought?"
Jake already knew the answer. Jessica definitely enjoyed it. No doubt about it. He had never seen a person enter the state of euphoria brought about by chocolate consumption so quickly and so euphorically. Jake was assuming that "euphorically" was an actual English word and not made up. Maybe Professor Hearne would know, but he wasn't here at the moment. Given her reaction, a Nobel laureate in Literature would have had problems in describing her reaction in one word. Maybe a tautly-written and descriptive chapter or two, but not in one word.
"Enjoy it? I loved it. Whatever you call it, it was good." There was that look of chocolate euphoria on her face again. Getting the high off the memory. "It was so good, I had to stop myself from eating the rest. And I failed miserably."
"I aim to please."
"Well, I have to go to class. It's getting close to 1:30. Gotta go. Bye!"
"I've gotta go, Jake."
"Have fun in Criminal Practice."
"I certainly won't."

He sat out in the sun until Bankruptcy. Might as well use the sun up to its potential. That was an afternoon in the life of Jake.

Gray Hall II: Interlude #1

2007-01-25T14:48:00.000-08:00

INTERLUDE #1: I DON'T THINK, THEREFORE I AM IN A CULT
It is important to understand that destructive mind control can be determined when the overall effect...promotes dependency and obedience to some leader or cause. . . . Mind controlled cult members can live in their own apartments, have nine-to-five jobs, be married with children, and still be unable to think for themselves and act independently.
--Steven Hassan, Releasing the Bonds: Empowering People to Think for Themselves

"Brainwashing" is not an English term, but instead, comes from Mandarin Chinese. The original phrase, x¹ naú literally translates into "to wash brain." When converted into an English equivalent, one gets the term "brainwashing." The term came into the English language during the Korean War by journalist Edward Hunter.
According to the American Heritage College Dictionary, Third Edition, the term brainwashing is defined as follows:

"1. Intensive, forcible indoctrination aimed at replacing a person's basic convictions with an alternative set of beliefs.
2. The application of a concentrated means of persuasion in order to develop a specific belief or motivation."

Robert Lifton, a psychiatrist who was one of the first researchers to interview former prisoners of war, prefers the term "thought reform" instead of "brainwashing." Dr. Lifton considers the term brainwashing to be filled with misconceptions. He likes the term "thought reform." Currently, academics in this field use the terms "coercive persuasion," "coercive psychological systems," or "coercive influence" instead of brainwashing. Dr. Margaret Singer, an expert in mind control and cults, as well as a professor emeritus at the University of California at Berkeley, uses the term coercive psychological systems. Dr. Singer defines coercive psychological systems as "behavioral change programs which use psychological force in a coercive way to cause the learning and adoption of an ideology or designated set of beliefs, ideas, attitudes, or behaviors." In essence, this is an elaboration of the term brainwashing.
The basic strategy of any effective behavioral change program, whether destructive or constructive, is to effectively and systematically use various techniques over a long period of time. The subject of this program is forced to take small steps so they can adapt to these influences. Ideally, these steps are so small and so tiny that the subject is unaware of these subtle changes. The subject will not be consciously aware of these changes to themself or to the inherently coercive nature of these tactics.
In additon to being unaware of the changes to themself and the coercive nature of these tactics, the subject is unaware of the purpose of these changes. The organization wants the subject to become mindless, to only follow what the organization wants them to do. Ideally, the subject has lost most, if not all of their critical thinking skills. Instead of making decisions based upon their own free will and the merit of the idea or proposition presented to the individual, the organization's method of decision making takes over. The cult decides.

There are many models and theories on destructive mind control, the coercive persuasion that fuels destructive cults. Two of these models are explained below, though abbreviated to give a rough understanding of each. One can find a full explanation from other sources.
Steven Hassan has his BITE (Behavior, Information, Thought, Emotional) Model which is considered a general standard for mind control models. In the BITE model, a cult or any organization wishing for complete psychological control attacks these four components. Not every element needs to be attacked, but the overall effect on the four components must be sufficient to promote dependency and obedience to the cult's/organization's leader.
Dr. Singer describes the six conditions for mind control as well as several techniques destructive cults use to persuade recruits. This process is systematic. The subject's mind is forced to think about the group at all times. Once this seed is planted, the recruit feels powerless and the new behaviors are slowly implanted. Rewards and punishments are manipulated to suppress old behaviors while reinforcing the cult's approved behaviors. This system is very elaborate and during the entire process, the subject is unaware of being manipulated.
All of these models repeatedly stress that cults use simple techniques to psychologically manipulate the minds of their recruits. These simple techniques are used by others. For instance, Dr. Phillip Zimbardo in his article What Messages are Behind Today's Cults?, states the following:

"A remarkable thing about cult mind control is that it's so ordinary in the tactics and strategies of social influence employed. They are variants of well-known social psychological principles of compliance, conformity, persuasion, dissonance, reactance, framing, emotional manipulation, and others that are used on all of us daily to entice us: to buy, to try, to donate, to vote, to join, to change, to believe, to love, to hate the enemy."

Or this from Cults in our Midst by Dr. Singer. In Chapter Seven of this book, Dr. Singer talks about commonly used psychological persuasion techniques. One of them is peer pressure and modeling, a technique that many people use:

"We look around and see models, and we comport ourselves to be like them. Most cults train new members either overtly stated policies or by more implicit shaping, to act in ways desired by the group.
Peer pressure is an effective means to get people to fit their behavior to group norms. In cults, this works for new and old members alike, going far beyond what is generally seen in society at large. In an atmosphere that states or implies that there is only one way to be this is it, it is most important to have models around to imitate."

There are numerous persuasion techniques used by cults, so many that the exact number of techniques is unknown. Experts are in dispute on what exactly is a specific technique or a variation of another one. They are very effective. Some commonly used techniques are shown below. The full list is on the Mind Control Techniques Used by Cults webpage located at www.pcrn.org:

"Change Of Diet- Use of special (i.e., nutrient poor) diet to increase susceptibility to emotional arousal, create disorientation, and increase susceptibility.
Confusing Doctrine - Use of complex lectures and hard-to-understand terms to encourage blind acceptance and reject logic.
...
Guilt, Secrecy, Fear - Induction of uncertainty, fear, confusion, with joy and certainty through surrender to the group as a goal
Isolation - Inducing loss of reality by physical separation from family, friends, society, and rational references. Meetings may be conducted far from your home.
...
No Questions - Unquestionable authority
Peer Group Pressure - Suppressing doubt and resistance to new ideas by exploiting the strong need to belong.
...
Sleep Deprivation and Fatigue - Creating disorientation and vulnerability by prolonging mental and physical activity without adequate rest and sleep."

Why would anyone join a cult? What drives a person to consider the cult's influence much more appealing than society in general? Dr. Zimbardo examines this question and others in What Messages are Behind Today's Cults? Not one type of person voluntarily joins a cult. In fact, people from every demographic group--age, sex, race, occupation, plus many others--are cult members. Anyone is a potential cult member which makes the cult so scary. It's that fact--it could be you, your family member, your next door neighbor could be a member--which scares people. Under the right conditions, even you could be a member of a cult like Heaven's Gate, Aum Shurinko, or a host of others.
So, why do people voluntarily join? What drives seemingly normal, intelligent, average people to commit acts that they normally would not do? Dr. Zimbardo posits the following:

"Imagine being part of a group in which you will find instant friendship, a caring family, respect for your contributions, an identity, safety, security, simplicity, and an organized daily agenda. You will learn new skills, have a respected position, gain personal insight, improve your personality and intelligence. There is no crime or violence and your healthy lifestyle means there is no illness.
Your leader may promise not only to heal any sickness and foretell the future, but give you the gift of immortality, if you are a true believer. In addition, your group's ideology represents a unique spiritual/religious agenda (in other cults it is political, social or personal enhancement) that if followed, will enhance the Human Condition somewhere in the world or cosmos."

And who would fall for such a seemingly perfect vision? A lot of people, a whole lot of people. What if the offer was made by a person that we trusted like friends and family? What if it was made in a setting that felt safe? What if we had needs that were being unfulfilled in some deeper way that society just can't? We all have felt this way in one way or another. Cults offer this dream utopia. Cults promise that they can fulfill these needs.
It seems to be a simple solution to a complex problem. You follow a simple path of following the rules that we make. Give us, the cult, every single freedom you have and in return, you will gain happiness, salvation, and success. But this is an illusion of security and glory. It seems to be a "win-win" situation where both sides win, but the cult member loses. Today's society with all of it's problems--fear of crime, fear of environmental apocalypse, fear of being poor, fear of everything collapsing--drives the cult to more and more people. All of this change seems crazy. All of these fears make the world seem like it is falling deeper and deeper into chaos. People cannot believe anything. Everything is suspect. Then the cult steps in with it's constant choir of salvation. An eternal rock in a sea of chaos. And people will follow.

What does this have to do with law school? Surely, law school is not a cult. That is an absolutely correct statement. The problem, however, is that law shcool uses these techniques and the comparison between the two is not all that surprising. Jeff Schmidt writes about the similarities between cult indoctrination and graduate school programs. Both cults and graduate school programs make big promises of increased power and independence. Both involve milieu control such as a lack of outside social life, little time for actual personal reflection, and large amounts of dense reading and large amounts of memorization. Both say that joining and following every rule is the only chance for salvation.
Look at what law school promises. Once you get through all of the hoops, once you pass a seemingly endless series of tests, you will become a lawyer. And, as a lawyer, you will be an influence in the world. The law is a moral compass. By understanding the law (as we define the law), you will be able to cure the ills of society. You can make a change in society, as long as you follow what we say. Just pay us large sums of money, learn the language we want you to learn, and these other little things, and you will succeed. You will be a beacon of light.
Then they discover the grim reality. Law school promises such great things, but the promises are moot. Ethical double standards abound. Law and justice are two different things. It may be sad, but oh well, you have to learn it. Law school and the entire process destroys you mentally and physically. The end result is not what you wanted or expected.
But the most important similarity between law school and cults is the selection process. Both cults and law school use tests to weed out the proverbial bad apples. These tests do not select people who are creative or have actual knowledge. These tests, however, prefer students who excel at rote memory, speed, and close interpretation of text. The successful student like the ideal cult member, shares the same ideological values and thereby "excels" in law school. They will jump through any hoop tossed in their path. These hoops gradually guide the members into a certain mindset, one that is the ideological ideal.
When the testing and the psychological persuasion techniques are combined with the subtle undermining of self-esteem, the subject is primed and ready for total conversion. The messages are repeated over and over again. Next comes the high expectations. But the law school, just like the cult, is ready. They show "compassion" by telling the recruit that they have the potential to be successful. Meet our expectation and you will succeed. You will be another success...as long as you follow our rules and do what we want you to do. Do it or you will fail.
And the final result? Distress and dysfunction. Disassociation. In essence, they become people who are broken versions of what they used to be. People claiming to be happy, but are sad inside. It is no wonder that people talk about their frustration, how they wanted to leave but do not. It is no surprise that people claim that law school, just like cult victims, destroyed (nearly destroyed) all their ideal notions.

Although this quote describes the medical school experience, it seems apt for law school and graduate school in general. Dr. Ware wrote an article called "Professional Development of Medical Students" in the journal Academic Medicine. See volume 72, pages 1056-1062. Law school, like medical school "promotes such fact grubbing and hypercompetitiveness that the goals of caring for anything other than grades and class rank are often lost in the medical school scramble."
There is a solution to the cult problem. People change society to come up with solutions that solve many of the problems that cults claim they have a solution for. By doing this, the appeal of a cult is weakened so that destructive cults hopefully die away. Solutions without deception, without distortion, without the potential for destruction.

Law school. A process of indoctrination or an education? You decide.

Chapter Two

2007-01-22T12:46:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER TWO: LAW SCHOOL STUDENT OR CULT MEMBER?
Nobody can describe a fool to the life without much patient self-reflection.
--Frank M. Colby
The worst deluded are the self-deluded.
--C.N. Bovee
Facts that are not frankly faced have a habit of stabbing us in the back.
--Harold Bowden
And, after all, what is a lie? Tis but
The truth in masquerade.
--Lord Byron

As the Publishing Editor of the Davis Law School's Broken Law Journal, Jake regularly wrote and contributed articles to the publication. The Broken Law Journal was Davis Law School's internally-published news source. Basically, law school students were responsible for writing articles, editing articles, and publishing the final product, generally distributed at the end of the month. Every month of the law school year, except for December, January, and May for obvious reasons. Reasons like law school finals and the blessed period of relative freedom called Winter Break (the politically correct and genrally accepted term for the lengthy vacation period).
In general, Jake's articles tended to go on the humorous and sarcastic side. During his second year of law school, he began to make fun of the law school experience. With scathing results. Students loved his articles as they were the only articles that were read (supposedly). Many students walked up to him and commented, "That was a hilarious article. And it was so true." Professors would tell him how they enjoyed his articles, but only the ones that were more academic in nature. His Tax Guide for the Criminally Inclined was a hit with the tax professors, as the Federal Tax Code was not a heavily read topic. As one self-described tax geek (an anonymous professor) said, "It's not everyday when someone makes tax an interesting topic. I had lots of fun reading it."
Jake had no problem with writing articles for the Broken Law Journal. Every month, article ideas came rolling out from his mind. His fingers went flying across the keyboard. He wished he could type faster than his average 73 words per minute (closer to 90 words per minute on a good day). Sometimes, Jake wished he could type as fast as the he thought. If that was possible, he could type out a twenty page research paper in two or three hours. Once his mind started to roll, it was hard to stop.
But today, for the first issue of the year, Jake couldn't think of anything. An absolute blank. He had the terribly cliched and proverbial writer's block. It was as if he had written about everything that could be written. After all, in previous articles, Jake had written articles mocking intelligent design, dumb criminals and even dumber laws, taxes, British barrister wigs, law school funding, and much more. Once you've managed to poke fun at all of these topics, it is very hard to outdo yourself by choosing and writing about an ever more outlandish topic.

Jake thought about this question before Federal Income Taxation. The best spot for thinking, Jake found out it his first year at Davis Law School, was outside in the outdoor patio-like area. For some reason, the combination of metal benches, maple trees, neatly-trimmed shrubs, and the ever-present scent of menthol cigarettes made for an effective mental block killer. Each time Jake went outside, whatever mental blocks he had seemed to disappear. It was quite strange. Maybe it was the relatively fresh air (fresh if it was without the cigarette smoke). Maybe it was the sound of chirping birds and industrious squirrels scampering about. Maybe it was the sound of eardrum rattling, bass-pounding, stereo systems driving by. Whatever it was, Jake's mind was clearer and just a little bit quicker than normal.
Outside, he found Professor Pearson smoking his post-Evidence cigarette, well, possibly his second or third cigarette once you factored in that Professor Pearson had a fiendish nicotine addiction. That and his fond love for coffee. Plain, black coffee without sugar or the powdered stuff called non-dairy creamer that was supposed to be a substitute for cream. No wonder why it was called "non-dairy creamer" as it was made from unknown fat and chemicals with cryptic, unpronouncable names.
"Hey, Pearson. How are you doing?"
"Well good morning, Mr. Lau. And how are you doing today?"
"Not too bad. As much as you can expect. And you?"
"Well, I'm still alive. The sun is out. I might go out in my boat and soak up some sun."
"Out on the lake? But it's only Wednesday."
"So? I've got tenure. They can't kick me out. If they do, I'm going to the Bahamas and become a beach bum. Sleep all day and drink all night."
"Good for you."
Jake had many conversations with Professor Pearson. A theme that constantly came up in their conversations revolved around the Caribbean islands. Professor Pearson, had it not been for that minor interruption called law school, would have been a bartender in the Bahamas or one of those sunny locales mentioned in "Kokomo" by The Beach Boys.
"What brings you out here this morning? Certainly not talk to me."
"I've got a problem. I need to come up with an article idea and well, I can't come up with one."
"Ah, that is a problem that I can't solve."
"I see." Time to change the conversation. "So, how is Evidence going? Anybody have the urge to do some acting in them?"
"It's too early in the semester to tell." Professor Pearson paused for a moment. "But I'm guessing that there is a lack of enthusiasm for acting. Unlike your group. Ah, now there were people with the thespian touch in them."
"Yes, yes there was. Remember the girl who could scream? Turns out she sings opera."
"Really?" The classic Pearson eyebrow raise. Very Spock-like in nature, but with a hint of professional wrestling melodramatic added in. "I thought there was a hint of opera training in her scream."
"I heard her perform at the Davis Law Talent Show. It was an aria from one of Wagner's operas. One of his Ring operas. Absolutely amazing. She definitely can hit the high notes. I think she won."
"Ah." As if it explained everything. He pointed at some 1Ls talking about being stressed out over law school. Already preparing outlines and subjecting themselves to terrible schedules. "Whatever happened to relaxation? Everything in moderation."
"It's like the students every year become more and more...well...dull. All alike in their pursuit in being academic. No room for having a little fun."
"Yes indeed. You can't take law school too seriously. Just like zombies."
"Zombies...good one Pearson. I guess they took the orientation speeches too seriously. Like they were being indoctrinated or something. Like law school was a cult...like a cult. I've got it!"
"Got what?"
"My article idea. Thanks, Pearson."
"Glad to help."

After sitting down at one of the tables by the SBA office, Jake started to do some research. Time to go on the Internet to get some information. One cannot write a humorous article without facts to base the article on. All satire, all humor in some way, is based upon reality, but it is a skewed vision looked through a warped lens.
It didn't take long to find some excellent research about cults and the methods of mind control they used to get their recruits. Jake realized that one could easily claim that any organization from the military to the Boy Scouts used these same techniques in some manner. Every organization could be considered a cult, or cult-like in nature. While reading a short summary of cult mind control techniques (currently called coercive persuasion techniques, coercive psychological systems or coercive influence by experts) written by Doctor Margaret Singer, Jake saw some eerie similarities between law school and cults.
One of the more common techniques used by cults, quoting from the article, was "Creat[ing] a sense of powerlessness by subjecting the person to intense and frequent actions and situations which undermine the person's confidence in himself and his judgment." Jake was reminded of many incidents, particularly in Legal Writing I, of how he was never sure of what the professor wanted. One day, it was "take this sentence out" and once he got his grade (Jake was sure it was randomly chosen by a computer program), it was "you should have left it in." Law school was just like that in every class. There obviously was some kind of right answer (or there would be no "law" in law school), but the law school professors, for some reason, failed to teach what was the law. Just like a cult.
The bad part? There was too much information to use. Given the format of the Broken Law Journal, a lengthy article was out of the question. Jake had to write a relatively informative yet concise article that managed to be funny. He racked his mind and came up with the following article:

Consider the following. Across the United States, there are thousands of people who a member of an elite cult. Graduates of the training school have loyal ties. As members of the cult, they have conversations filled with foreign sounding phrases and buzzwords that mean simple concepts. Large sums of money is spent on books. These books are filled with arcane knowledge. Time is spent listening to lectures and participating in group activities. They are a member of a cult. You might know someone who is a member. In fact, you are a member. Welcome to the cult called law school.
Law school can't be a cult. Impossible. Some of you wish you could leave. Some want the experience to end. It's got a hold on you and it won't let go. Read the following and reconsider.
The cult begins by choosing the right people, those who will best fit in their group, their cult. Remember the law school application process? Remember taking the LSAT on a Saturday morning? Remember filling out all of those applications, writing all of those essays, reading all of brochures just to get into a law school that fit your personality? In the end of this process, based upon all of this material, the law school chose future students. Everything is a highly calculated process designed to pick the best of the best. Just like a cult. Just like a cult. Repeat after me.
Your behavior has probably changed while in law school. Take a good look at what you eat on an average day. Not that healthy in all reality. Eating food from restaurants. Fast food. Frozen food. Snack food. Lots of alcohol. Nicotine and caffeine are dietary supplements. On a rare day, you might have enough time to actually make a meal in your apartment. You spend a lot of time at Davis Hall. Time in lectures. Time in the library. Time online. It now seems normal to spend all day and part of the night at Davis Hall. Before, it would have seemed crazy. Change some words and you've got a cult.
Informaiton control. You're probably thinking, "You're wrong. I've got access to the Internet and to the television in the informal commons! Newspapers! They don't control what I think." Ah, but how wrong you are. Have you ever noticed how the wireless network conveniently breaks down? Have you ever noticed how the TVs fail to work? Coincidence? I think not. Now, remember when the law school rankings fell and came close to making Davis Law School a school to avoid at all costs? What did they say? The magazine rankings are wrong. The formula was obviously biased and messed up.
Rankings aren’t everything. The people that graduate really matter. Read any of the alumni magazines or any of the material published by the law school. Alumni success stories. They have jobs in great firms…just like graduates from other law schools. They clerk for U.S Supreme Court justices…just like graduates from other law schools. Bad news does not exist. Scandal is impossible like the unicorn. If it does show up, it’s swept under the rug or given a good whitewash.
Thought control. It's everywhere in law school. You've had negative thoughts about law school. The books are expensive. The grades are too random thanks to the mandatory curve. The rooms are too hot or too cold. But there is TGIT and all of the social events filled with lots of beer and booze. Law school was fun. It was hell, but it all balances out with the social events and alcohol.
What about your classes? The right answer is the professor’s answer. There is no gray area, but only black and white. The law may seem wrong, irrational, harsh, but it is the law and you will learn it. Do you question it? Not when your grade depends on “understanding the law” and “understanding” means what the professor said. Free thinking in class is perfectly fine, but come finals, it’s not an option. If you get a bad grade, YOU did something wrong. You should have done this, done that, did this, etc. Think law school still isn’t a cult?
Emotional control. You're probably a mess by the time finals roll around. Why is that? Orientation. Those speeches they give. “To do well, you must study TWO hours for ever credit hour you take. Don’t disappoint us by failing. Make outlines early. Don’t disappoint yourself by failing. It would be bad if you failed. Do well and you get a good job.” As time goes on, it evolved to things like “successful students do this” or “law firms like this.” You constantly think about your grades because grades matter. A voice in your head repeats, “Think about what would happen if you did poorly. Nobody would like it if you failed.” Their basic message: “Failure is bad.” Their weapon of choice: FEAR. Nobody wants to be a “failure.” It looks bad. Combine this with a liberal dose of guilt and you’ve got a great formula for effective emotional control.
You probably don’t believe me. You’re too set in your ways. They already have you. That’s fine. We’re all in denial. By the way, one last thing. Praying before undertaking important tasks is a part of most rituals involved with denial. Taking final exams count. Just so you know.

Jake read what he wrote and he found it to meet his standards. Just the right amount of humor, but not too much. Informative, but in a stealthy manner. Just the right amount of sarcasm. All in all, not too bad for an hour's worth of writing. Of course, that was his opinion and sometimes, what he thought was "good" or "funny," just wasn't that good or funny. The Court of Public Opinion was a fickle court. He had to find someone who would be willing to read it. Just his luck. Jessica Perez walked by.
"Hi, Jake! What are you doing?"
"Just finished writing an article for the Broken Law Journal. Do you want to read it?"
"Sure, why not? I've got some time."
Jessica read his article. She must have enjoyed his article and found it funny as she was laughing a lot. And loudly as some 1Ls studying the current Civil Procedure casebook (the Aspen version that Jake thought was written by a pack of Chihuahuas running on top of computer keyboards) started looking at her strangely. Well, not strangely, but like armed Crusaders discovering a large group of heathen Saracens inside the Temple of Zion in Jerusalem. God forbid that someone destroys the holy, silent sanctity of a law school informal commons. Just like the well-trained drones the law school wanted.
"HA! That was funny. Are you going to submit this?"
"Yup," said Jake as he nodded his head. Now was as good a time to ask his question. He was going to her birthday party and being a conscientious person, Jake wanted to know what he should bring. "By the way, would you like my a batch of my special recipe brownies or a flourless chocolate torte? They're both tasty, but I just wanted to know if you would prefer one or the other."
"What?"
"Flourless chocolate torte or brownies? Your birthday party this Friday?"
"Hmm...do I have to choose one?"
Jake wasn't too surprised with her response. If the two choices were both good and would both produce pleasure, many people would try to get both. Even if they were forced to choose only one option. They try to create a third option.
"Yes, you have to choose only one. And it can't be both of them."
"OK...I think I'll go with the flourless chocolate torte."
"An excellent choice. I think you'll be happy with the results. Very happy."
"It better be good." She checked her watch. "It's 11:20. I've got to get to Advanced Litigation."
"Nice talking to you. Thanks for your opinion. And I'll see you on Friday night."
"Bye!" And with that, Jessica went up the stairs.

Jake packed up his laptop and he too went up the stairs. As much as he would have liked to spend the rest of the day slacking off, he had to go to Federal Income Taxaton class. It was his turn up in class to answer questions. The rolling boulder was coming and he didn't want to get flattened.
Jake said to himslef, "Time to go to class. You're up today. Can't escape now. That would be bad." And like the rest of the drones in the cult called law school, Jake went to class.
But he was driven to set himself free. He knew the truth.

Welcome to Gray Hall Two...Chapter One

2007-01-16T07:18:00.000-08:00

Gray Hall Two: High School Wants Their Drama Back

AUTHOR'S DISCLAIMER:
This novel is only a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, and plot are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
To be honest, this work is a work of fiction based upon actual persons, places, and events. A certain amount of fiction was needed to make this work possible. Those who attend the law school I attend will recognize certain characters and places. Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent or the ignorant. Mainly the ignorant.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE
The following work is the sequel to my first NaNoWriMo success, The Many Shades of Gray Hall (from this point forward now referred to as Gray Hall), a semi-fictional, semi-true novella based upon one year in the life of a law school student. I probably could have written a longer work, but given the time constraints I had (one month to write 50,000 words plus the time needed to survive law school), writing a much longer work would not have been possible. Of course, I could have continued writing after November 30. This, however, would have in my mind, violated the essence of NaNoWriMo--that is, National Novel Writing Month. Note the word "month." That is how much time I gave myself to write Gray Hall.
I would have written the sequel to Gray Hall earlier, like last year for NaNoWriMo 2006. After finishing the first installation of NaNoWriMo, it seemed to me that writing about law school again would have been too much in the overkill department. Writing about the same subject over and over again just did not appeal to me from a personal point of view. At the time, I was lacking the sufficient amount of zeal to write about the law school experience. It is easy to lose zeal about law school while in law school. Those who are in law school should know what I am talking about.
And yet, while writing my NaNoWriMo 2006 entry (another winner, I might add), I was experiencing a certain lack of creativity: the classic case of writer’s block. Some might say that one learns much from adversity, but this was a lesson I did not want to learn. It was a struggle to come up with a good chapter's worth of material. It was taking too much effort to come up with one paragraph. Somehow, despite the troubles, I barely managed to meet the 50,000 goal with a day to spare. I learned that I should have wrote about something else, a story that I could write about convincingly. While writing my NaNoWriMo 2006 story, I fondly remembered how fun writing Gray Hall was. How easy the words seemed to flow from my head. How the characters came alive on the page. How I laughed at the descriptive language and the choice of words I made.
I read Gray Hall after finals and I knew at that moment, I had to write a sequel to Gray Hall. It would have been a shame to let Jake and the colorful characters at the semi-fictional Davis University School of Law--Gray Hall--linger in a kind of literary limbo. I had to finish what I had started. My characters were now 3Ls, the graduating class of Davis Law School. One final year to make memories and have the strange yet true experiences that I could write about. Some of them, yes, I have personally experienced. Which explains the disclaimers above.
The French have an old saying that roughly translates to the following: "The more things change, the more they seem to stay the same." Yes, things have changed since I wrote Gray Hall. Things have changed in so many ways, and yet, all of these changes have made little change to the landscape of life. The current year looks like the last year. The next year will look like the last year.
Yes, things have changed, but it all fits together in a seamless whole. There will be new adventures, new characters, and new places to read about, discover and enjoy. Despite this, I hope that despite these new additions to the Gray Hall universe, you find all the features you enjoyed before in Gray Hall are still found in this work.And so, go forth and read on with gusto. Gray Hall Two: High School Wants Their Drama Back begins...

CHAPTER ONE: WHERE THE STUDENTS ARE BURNED MORE THAN THE BURGERS
Men like to barbecue. Men will cook if danger is involved.
--Rita Rudner
I can't cook. I use a smoke alarm as a timer.
--Carol Siskind
Back to zero, that's where we're going
Back to nothing, that's where we're heading
Straight to meltdown, that's where we're going
Back to zero, right now, right now
We're going nowhere
Right now, right now
Back to zero, that's where we're heading
Back to zero
--The Rolling Stones, "Back to Zero"

A thick cloud of smoke rose from the outdoors common area at Davis Law School. This cloud of wasn't coming from the usual crowd of smokers that puff away on the requisite pack of Camel cigarettes in between classes. During a normal school day, this would be the source of smoke coming from Davis Law School. On some occasions, the amount of smoke got so thick and heavy, Jake thought the fire department would come speeding down to Gray Hall, sirens blazing, thinking there was a fire. Today, however, was a special occasion. There was a "Welcome Back to School Picnic" at Davis Law School.
In addition to welcoming students back to an academically enriching experience (mainly in educating students how to surreptitiously surf the Internet during class and the differences between various types of alcohol), the students would have the opportunity to meet their professors and the new dean at a social level. Why anyone would want to socialize (with actual, purposeful intent) with the professors was beyond Jake's comprehension. "To each his own," thought Jake.
Like the traditional graduate student and probably everyone else attending the event, he was there for the free food. An occasion to get fed without paying for it was a good thing in Jake's book. After all, he got fed and he didn't have to clean dishes. And besides, the law school was paying for it. He might as well help justify the cost in taxpayer funds. Or was it being subsidized by the 20% increase in tuition. Either way, he was paying for it. And boy was he paying for it, despite being an in-state student and paying the in-state tuition rates.
Jake saw that the food was coming from the Davis University Catering department, a codeword for the infamous Davis University Dining and Food Service department. There was no difference between the two departments. Depending on which residence hall you lived in and which dining hall was responsible for food, the meal quality varied dramatically. The food at Ellenburger Dining Hall, called E-Coli Palace by those who ate (if you could manage to consume any amount of "food") there, was of poor quality. Very poor quality. Many wondered if what they served there scientifically qualified to be called food. On the other hand, the food at Shaffee-Foley Dining Hall was always excellent. People from other dining halls would eat there, even if it meant walking across campus drenching rain, icy-cold snow, hurricane force winds, or blazing hot sun. Nothing would stop them in their quest for the best food on campus.
Great. It would be a massive dice roll, a game of probabilities. The food would be great, terrible, or something in between. He was hoping it would be at least tolerable.
He did a quick inspection of the food being served, going through a mental checklist. The burgers were hot and from his scan, not burnt, hockey puck looking objects. The condiments looked fresh and were kept chilled on ice. If he did partake in the food, his chances for food poisoning would be greatly reduced. The sides like mixed green salad, potato salad, and baked beans were kept at a proper storage temperature. Hot foods were kept hot and cold foods were kept cold. It would have been bad to get something like e-coli or one of the many nasty food borne illnesses associated with improperly stored foods. Fruit. Something that could go wrong so quickly. Fruit could be overly ripe and mushy, under ripe and flavorless, or of such bad quality that it was covered in soft, rotten spots. They at least managed to get fresh looking fruit. How it tasted, however, would be discovered later. Well, it looked edible, so that was a good start. The cookies looked fine. Browner on the edges than he would have liked, but good looking. The chocolate brownies were better looking than the cookies. All in all, it appeared that the Davis University Catering department chose a competent group this time. For once.
Normally, Davis University didn't choose the better crews unless it was an important event. If it was a really important event (think occasion where rich donors are coming), then they hired actual, professional caterers or they got food from a restaurant. Your tax money at work. His chances of getting food poisoning were greatly reduced...so he hoped.
Jake took a burger and placed cheese, lettuce, and tomato on it. Ketchup and mustard, of course. No mayonaise as it came in the little individual packages and he really didn't know how old those were. He once found a package that was a year old once. Not that appetizing. Jake decided he wanted the mixed green salad as the potato salad didn't seem that appealing. The possibly questionable mayonaise again. Some potato chips. A large pile of fruit. A relatively nutritious meal that was relatively free of potential health hazards.
Jake walked to the coolers and saw there were various types of soda, lemonade, iced tea, and bottled water. He got a clean cup (clear plastic), put in several large ice cubes, and got some iced tea. People rarely made iced tea correctly, especially when it is made in large amounts over a gallon. Predictably, after taking a sip of the iced tea, Jake thought the iced tea tasted strange. It had an odd, musty aftertaste; and it smelled strange as well, nothing like iced tea.
The lemonade was better, though given the poor quality of the tea, this might not have meant much. Well, for stuff made from powder, it was tolerable. In Jake's opinion, the lemonade was too sweet. The level of tartness was nonexistant. For general drinking purposes to reduce thirst, however, it was suitable. Just suitable. If it was wet and kind of tasted like what it purported to be, it was drinkable.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lau. How are you doing today?"
"Good afternoon, Professor Hearnes." Jake gave a curt wave. "I'm doing pretty well. I have to admit that it's kind of warm today."
"Yes, yes it is." Professor Hearns had an unusual way of speaking. Maybe it was the tone in which he spoke every sentence. It was like every word had to be said in a certain tone, at a certain speed. His voice was calm, very soothing. After a while, it gained a rhythmic aspect to it that was hypnotic. One could get lulled into sleep. He also had a fascination for words and wordplay. "But it is, after all, summer right now. It was much worse in Manilla while I was working there at the Asian Development Bank. A Manilla meltdown as you might say. Hmm...that was very...what is that word? Where the...yes. Mr. Lau, would you know what that word is?"
"I believe it is called alliteration." Jake was an English major in college. His eighth grade English teacher, Mr. Colton, pounded in definitons into his head. Jake couldn't help but add in some pedantic details that only an English major could add in. "One might call it consonance, but that usually describes the same consonant sound used in words. Alliteration is the repetition of similar sounds in the beginning of words, so one could say alliteration is a specialized form of consonance or assonance if one uses the same vowel sounds in words. I guess that was too much."
"Alliteration. Yes, that was the word. I did enjoy your mini-lecture on sound repetition. Very interesting. Very informative."
"Thanks. How was your summer? Did you do anything fun or interesting?"
"No, not really. I spent my summer doing research and writing an article about the International Monetary Fund. I did find some time to go on a short vacation with my wife. And you, Mr. Lau?"
"Not really. I spent most of my summer working at Coleman, Considine, and Evans, LLC. Did a lot of legal research mainly in land transactions. Lots of land transactions, some business law related stuff. It wasn't too bad. Like you, I did manage to go on a short vacation."
"What did you do while on vacation?"
"Nothing too much. Did a lot of resting. Some whitewater rafting."
"Really? That must have been an exciting, not to mention a highly interesting experience."
"It sure was. Did some whitewater rafting on the Arkansas River by Leadville and I did a few trips in the Royal Gorge. Absolutely crazy experience. It was like being inside a giant washing machine from Hell that was stuck in spin cycle. Never had so much fun in my life."
"You must tell me more, but at a later time. I see Professor Bahari and I need to talk to him about some questions he had about the IMF. He's writing another treatise about international trade law and a chapter is about the IMF. I will see you in Public International Law next week."

Jake decided to try some cookies and brownies, despite resuming his normal eating habits. He would allow himself to have some sweets. Too much sugar in his diet wreaked havoc with his metabolism and slowed it down just enough so he would gain weight. That would mean an extra mile running tomorrow to burn off the extra calories in the cookies and brownies. Oh well. Life just worked out that way.
During his summer at Coleman, Considine, and Evans, he gained ten pounds. On his frame, it did not show so much, but it was still extra weight he did not need. Some of it was muscle, but a large proportion was fat and for Jake, that meant problems. Being an avid fan of Japanese swordfighting, extra weight was not good as it slowed him down. Slower reflexes meant the possibility of getting whacked in the side of the head with a polished wooden sword. The sword may be lightweight and made out of wood, but it can be swung with enough velocity to knock a person out. Jake should know as he was well acquainted with the business end of many wooden swords.
"The chocolate chip cookies are OK. The white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies are much better. The browines, however, are great. I think I had three of them."
Jake saw that it was Jessica Perez. Absolutely stunning looking, as usual. Unlike Jake, she was dressed for the weather. The men attending this pcinic were lucky, very lucky. Nothing said "welcome back" like an attractive female (with great looking legs and other great looking body parts) wearing shorts. In Jake's mind and in his understanding of theology, beauty in any form was real proof of the existence of God or a higher power of some sort. His line of logic was as follows:
Jessica's legs were a form of beauty in an actual, tangible, physical form. They are attractive and are pleasing to the eye. Looking at them could add years to one's life and cause the heart to beat just a bit faster (or cause it to stop if the conditions are right). God created beauty and that is good. Therefore, God exists. QED. No questions or theological doubts at all.
Sure, his line of reasoning probably had logical flaws. Sure, his thinking might be considered archaic, sexist, whatever you might want to say. But one has to admit that Jessica's legs were good looking.
"The brownies are that good? I think I'll have those. Then I will have to run the next day. The price one pays for a brief moment of pleasure."
"You, exercising? I thought calories didn't affect you physically."
"Yeah. I thought that also. But the weight I gained this summer tells me no."
He tried a brownie. Not too bad. It was good. The texture was fudgy, but had some cake-like firmness. Not too sweet. Nice amount of chocolate flavor. Brownies coming from a boxed mix tasted more like sugar than anything else. Packaged brownies from supermarkets suffered from the same problem. He had a personal recipe that he made for special occasions that were vastly superior. But these brownies were good.
"Could you get me another one of those brownies?"
Jake got her another brownie. He learned some useful lessons about women. One of them involved chocolate. If a woman asks for chocolate, you give it to her. Failing to do so would result in dire consequences.
Jessica continued by saying, "I really shouldn't eat them, but I like chocolate too much. If I don't stop, I'll look like a soccer ball."
"Highly unlikely." It was time to change the conversation. Any more talk about chocolate and he might be tempted to eat another brownie or two. Let's see...what to talk about? Oh, her birthday was coming up soon. Yes, it was next week on Friday. "By the way, isn't your birthday next week?"
"Yes it is. You remembered! I think my boyfriend David forgot. Or he's going to forget."
"I don't think so. He seems like a responsible kind of guy."
"By any chance, do you think you can make it to my birthday party? I know you don't go out much, but it would nice if you could come. Even if it is for a moment."
"Sure, why not? I might bring some food."
"Like what?"
"How about something with chocolate? Since you like it so much?"
"Perfect."
"What time should I be there?"
"Oh, about eight PM or so."
"I'll see you then. And I'll be bringing in something with chocolate."
"Oh good."
Jake could tell from her reaction that she was a chocoholic. He left and while dumping his trash, he met David Brown, Jessica's boyfriend. While walking by, Jake said, "Jessica's birthday is next week on Friday. Just so you know. Remember that."
"Thanks. I almost forgot."

It was nearing 7:00 PM. Time to pick up Clarissa at her townhouse and go to a movie, a movie of her choice. One year together with her. One very good year and hopefully, many years more. At least, so he hoped in his ideal world. Well, it was almost a year, but close enough to count in Jake's mind. He would, no, he would definitely do something special on Saturday.
The picnic, overall, wasn't so bad. It went quite well. But an hour spent at a law school social function was enough time spent for such an event. After all, one could only spend so much time at law school.

Nearing the end of This Insanity...

2006-11-27T05:52:00.000-08:00

FIVE
Excerpts from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[Note from Editors: Oddly enough, the entries in AOI-101PERS’ personal journal do not have dates. We have scanned every single journal entry in AOI-101PERS’ journal, and we have not found a single date in the journal. We even had our research assistants go through the entire journal several times and they did not find a single date in this person’s journal. Not a single date at all. Not a single day at all. In addition to not being a singe date written in AOI-101PERS’ journal, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. We repeat, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. Why AOI-101PERS failed to write down any dates is beyond our comprehension.
In order to figure out what date the journal entry was made or a close approximation for it, we had to look at the journal entry and look through numerous calendars and documents to figure out the date the journal entry was made. Our research assistants were not happy at this prospect. This work, was, and still is, very boring and very tedious. They were not particularly happy while doing this work. We were not happy either. The only good thing that they found about this job was the hourly wage they were paid: $15.50 an hour. This was a dramatic increase from the usual $12.00 an hour they were paid.
We, the editors, have put in dates to make the journal entries make some kind of chronological sense. These dates are in brackets]
Excerpts from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[October 21, 2000]
I had an odd experience today. I also learned an interesting thing about David King. He sure does have some weird hobbies. Then again, it’s weird if you don’t have the same hobby. Well, you know, it does seem interesting. Not that I am going to try his hobby any time soon.
David King is a guy in several of my classes. He is smart, definitely genius level. He seems inhuman with his knowledge level. He could make a killing on Jeopardy. I think he knows everything since he answers questions with a depth of information that puts the professor to shame. I’ve seen the professor write David’s answers down.
David has a cutting wit, sharp use of sarcasm. The guy is funny, really funny. Tall. Quiet personality. Though I think his temper can be easily set off. It’s barely simmering underneath the calm exterior. [Note from Editors: This description of Mr. King’s personality is accurate. All of the personality exams he has taken have come up with these results.]
Well, I was walking on campus, coming back from an awesome football game. The football team finally managed to win a home game, something they haven’t done for a while. I don’t know when was the last time they actually won at home and I’ve spent most of my life in this town. You could say that I am a townie. [Note from Editors: AOI-101PERS has good reason not to remember when the football team last won a game at home. According to the records, the last victory at home by the school’s football team was on November 15, 1997 against their in-state rival, a losing streak of nearly three years. According to the University newspaper, after the win, the fans stormed the field and tore down the goal posts. This act took a while since the fans had little experience in tearing down goal posts. A wit who phoned the newspaper’s Free Phone section, basically an open-forum, made several jokes about this fact. They were very funny, but alas, we failed to copy these jokes down. We agreed that we would insert them in the next edition of this book, due to be published in the fall of 2142.]
Yeah, so I was walking down University Boulevard past the ugliest building on campus. This building is truly ugly in every sense of the term. I heard a rattling sound and I stopped. Nobody was walking on campus at the time, except for me. So I continue to walk. And the rattling sound starts again. OK, this is getting creepy. I hear a grating noise and a loud clank.
I jump up and yell in surprise. When was the last time a manhole cover pops off by itself? Unless you are in a horror movie or Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video as a zombie extra.
Who should climb out from the sidewalk but David King?
He has a head lamp on his head. He is wearing heavy work gloves, a sweatshirt, and a pair of old blue jeans. His sweatshirt is covered in dirt and some other unknown substance that I do not want to know what it is. David has a backpack slung over his shoulders. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to know what it is. His face is red, but I don’t see any sweat.
David says nonchalantly, as if this is normal, “Hi! How are ya! I didn’t expect to see you here right now! The football game was great! I was under the stadium when they tore down the goal posts! Took a while, but they did manage.”
I’m too surprised to say anything. After all, this is not a normal thing that happened right now. This is one of the few times I am speechless. It takes a while to say something.
“Dave…um…hi. Nice…to see you?” I can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you climb out of a manhole on campus. What are you doing?”
Dave laughs in response. His response is deadpan. “Oh nothing. Just the usual stuff. I’m just coming up for some air. It does get stuffy and hot down in the steam tunnels.” He has a grin on his face. He must enjoy this activity enough to risk trespassing charges or personal injury.
“Steam tunnels? What on Earth are you doing down there?”
“They’re there. I want to explore them. That simple. When it snows up there, you always stay warm down here. And you get great access to the basketball arena. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to snag a good seat. Court side seats too.”
Did I mention that David has a sense of humor? Sometimes it gets strange, but I find it funny. He’s like a strong cup of tea, a strange brew. You have to get used to this type of humor. At least I think it is humor. It’s hard to distinguish the difference sometimes between humor and seriousness with David.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Nope. Not joking at all. Excuse me.” He climbs up the ladder and crawls onto the sidewalk. He brushes the dust off his clothes. “The steam tunnels go under the basketball arena. You can enter the basketball arena by entering a door down there. It’s the green door to the left. The set of stairs leads you up to the basketball court. The door by the sidelines. The gray one. As I said, good seats.” [Note from Editors: This is an accurate description of how to enter Keller Arena from the university steam tunnels. We have maps of the old steam tunnels from this time and we had records from several steam tunnel maintenance workers. And we also have records from numerous college steam tunnel explorers. Their written instructions on how to reach the basketball court from the steam tunnels, in more details, basically state the same thing as Mr. King. So he had knowledge on the college steam tunnels.]
“OK…I see. I’m not sure if that explains a lot.”
The rest of the conversation is of a more normal nature. The usual, meaningless conversation that people say to pass the time. But with David, the normal conversation seems less normal, but takes on a different level. It is never dull to say the least.
He notices what time it is. “It’s close to 9:00PM and it is getting dark. Sorry to have kept you here so late.”
“It’s 9:00 PM already? I didn’t notice that.”
David shuffles his feet. “Do you mind if I walk with you to where you are going? It is dark.”
“Sure. I was going to walk home.”
“I can drive you there. My car is down there.” He points to a red car down the street.
“I normally don’t accept rides late at night from strangers, but for you, I’ll make an exception to the general rule.”
“Great! Think of this as me making up for keeping you here so late.”
“Aren’t you going to change? You might get your car dirty.”
“You’re right.” So he takes off his sweatshirt and puts it inside his backpack. He takes out a towel and carefully wipes his face clean. He places the towel in a plastic sack inside his backpack. I notice the dirty sweatshirt is in this bag also.
David drives me home and we continue our conversation. He explains why he likes exploring tunnels and he got very passionate about this. I can add another dimension to the David King persona. Odd hobby, but at least he definitely enjoys this hobby. It’s refreshing to know someone who enjoys an activity, no matter how unusual, with such intensity.
He drops me off at my house. Says a quick goodbye. I say goodbye and give him a hug. He opts to give a hug in return.
That was an unusual night. Would I want another night like that? Not really. But it was nice to see David in a different light.
*****
[January 4, 2001]
David, I mean Dave, never ceases to amaze me. And he never ceases to make me wonder if he is human or not.
There was a basketball game today and despite being winter break, students had to camp out to get tickets for the game. This is a pretty good game. Tickets are going to be at a premium. I mean, cut throat ticket market.
Did I mention that it was snowing? A really good snow storm. And it is freezing cold. And the wind is whipping the snow horizontally.
Of course, the athletic department isn’t going to let the campers freeze to death outside. The camping is done inside. If the situation can’t be made worse than it already is right now, there are a hundred people inside a cramped, hot area. It is bad. Everyone is bored.
But not Dave. Definitely not Dave. He has come prepared for this situation.
There is a wireless Internet network inside the basketball arena. People have laptops, but after three or four hours, the Internet can get boring. Dave comes up with a brilliant solution. He has his friends from the School of Engineering (how engineers and philosophers associate is beyond my comprehension) do some tweaking. They load up some laptops with multi-player games like Doom, Quake, and Starcraft. They have a massive power strip so they can connect everything to the power strip. Instant wireless gaming party.
If that wasn’t enough, they have a television and they have a Playstation with every possible game with them. Free-for-all Playstation time.
Thirsty? Hungry? Food and drink available.
Dave and his cohorts are having loads of fun when I arrive.
“Want to join in? Come on, a few frags will be fun. If not, you can always try the Playstation. Want a drink? Over there.”
“Huh? Playstation? Do you have tickets?”
“Yup. Does first row sound good to you?”
“You got first row?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of tragic though. You see, the guys in front wanted some time on the Playstation. And I let them. Hey, I wasn’t in the mood for playing. To make a long story shore, the people in the front were so engaged with the Playstation, well, they lost their place.”
“What? Wait a minute here. First row? Playstation…lost their place.”
“That’s right. Here are the tickets.”
There they were. First row tickets. Sweet.
The basketball game was great. Especially from the first row. How Dave manages to pull these things off, I am not sure.
Hmm…I wonder if he can snag some tickets for the Dave Matthews concert?
*****
[March 29, 2003]
Yesterday was my birthday. I had a whole lot of fun with my friends last night. People brought over food, drinks, and presents. But the torte…that was good, so good. And the brownies…must have a piece right now.
Dave should be a cook. I mean, considering the talent that he has, well, based upon the flourless chocolate torte he made, Dave should be a cook. It was that good. He’s talked about going to law school (which I am thinking about doing), but the cake he made…it was excellent…mmm. He also brought a batch of his special brownie recipe that he called “Insulin Shock.” Aptly named. But…oh they were great. Gooey caramel, melting chocolate, fudge-like brownies…I want one right now. Those were great also. Words cannot describe how amazingly delicious they were. I think I have the leftover torte and brownies in the fridge. Technically, they weren’t leftovers. I hid them because everybody wanted to take them home. I didn’t want to give them up. They were too good to give up. I love chocolate. Love it.
I invite Dave to my apartment for my birthday party and he agrees. He says, “I’ll bring over a flourless chocolate torte. So, how many people are coming again?”
“It’s going to be a small occasion. Maybe seven or eight people. Why?”
“Perfect! One batch only! It takes a while to make one of these.”
“Like how long?”
“Well, you have to melt chocolate and butter, mix eggs, and chill the thing overnight. But you have to be careful because this mixture is delicate.”
“You don’t have to make this, you know.”
“But I wan’t to make this. This is your birthday and a birthday should be special. It’s only one torte, you know.”
“OK.” Based upon the recipe, this thing sounds good. “Be at my apartment at around 8:00 PM. Thanks for bringing over food.”
“It’s nothing.” And with that, he walks off. And I wanted to give him a hug for being such a nice guy. Strange man.
Dave shows up at my apartment at 7:50 PM carrying two pans. I ask him what he has. Even though they are wrapped in plastic wrap and aluminum foil, I can smell the delicious scent of chocolate. I have to remind myself that I have to share some with the rest of the guests.
“This is a flourless chocolate torte.” He hands me the round pan. “Since I had some time, I decided to make some brownies. The special recipe that can be considered a controlled substance.” He hands me the rectangular pan.
So I manage not to sneak a piece of brownie from the pan. And I also manage not to inhale the entire torte. They smell good and chocolatey. Especially the brownies. Did I mention I want a brownie right now? Maybe a piece of that torte.
Oh…the story.
It’s time to serve food. Dave has the brilliant idea of serving the flourless chocolate torte. Dessert should be served before the meal and after the meal. Especially when it is chocolate.
Dave can wield a knife also. He cuts pieces and serves them. After singing “Happy Birthday” without the candles. Apparently, the thing is fragile and heat affects the taste and texture. Who needs candles when you’ve got this?
Oh. My. God. One bite and I am going into chocolate-induced ecstasy. The feeling that a chocoholic gets when they have a bite of good chocolate. The glazed eyes. The sheer look of pleasure.
Dave is amused, possibly turned on. “Was it good for you?”
I look at him and I laugh. “Yes it was.”
“If you thought that was good, try the brownies.”
“What was in that torte or whatever you call it.”
“Oh, nothing. A pound of chocolate, a pound of butter, and a dozen eggs.”
Wow. Wow. Wow. Diet be damned. I want some more.
The brownies are just as good. The same look of chocolate-induced pleasure. Caramel. Lots of chocolate. More chocolate.
I don’t think anyone else was thinking about anything but those brownies and the torte.
When the party was over, I thanked Dave for the desserts he brought. They were very good. He was modest about this. I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You just don’t kiss your friends on the lips unless you are drunk and stupid. Or you want to take the friendship to another level. I’m not at this level right now. I don’t know. Just friends right now. And I was not drunk.
Dave is such a nice guy despite his obvious weirdness. But I think the other qualities are commendable. He’s an individual.
*****
[August 17, 2004]
I just came back from Law School First Year Orientation today. The school makes it sound like such an important and informative day, but it really isn’t. I mean, it’s like any other orientation. Listen to a bunch of professors talk, have a lunch, listen to more professors, enroll in classes, end the day with some more professors talk. That is pretty much it for an orientation day. Sure, you meet new people, take a picture for an ID card, and so forth, but every orientation session is like this.
I can sum up the speeches the professors give in every orientation: “In order to do well in law school, study hard. But you have time to join clubs, have fun, expand your horizons.” To be honest, this came from Dave, a guy I know from college. We took a lot of classes together in college. We did, actually, quite a lot in college. Camped for basketball games, had a few beers at some local bars, watched movies, a whole lot of stuff. Funny guy. Really funny guy. Kind of strange, though in an oddly endearing kind of way. Sort of like the male equivalent of the lady with a houseful of cats. Not as crazy.
I’m having conflicting feelings right now. I now don’t consider Dave a friend. I think that I’ve wanted Dave to be more than a friend right now. Go figure. [Note from Editors: As an interesting cultural note, during this time, there was a popular book published called He’s Not That Into You. If AOI-101PERS had read this book and followed what had been written as advice, AOI-101PERS would have come to the conclusion that Mr. King was not that into AOI-101PERS. We have done some research and apparently, AOI-101PERS did not have this book in their possession. We also think, based upon this fact, AOI-101PERS has not read this book. If AOI-101PERS had read this work, then AOI-101PERS, unlike millions of others, did not consider this a dating Bible. We wonder if this work would have been written differently had AOI-101PERS taken the advice in this book at full value.]
What ever happens, happens. I guess it’s a situation of que sera, sera. What ever will be, will be. What ever the future hold is what will happen.
[November 26, 2004]
I visited the parent’s house for Thanksgiving. I brought along Dave. I guess that it is official right now. We are going out with each other. I guess that it becomes official when you take the boyfriend home to see the parents.
My parents loved him. They like his humble, quiet nature. My parents are a little eccentric (OK, they are very eccentric), so Dave’s um…eccentricities are endearing to them. It reminds them of their first meeting. Hey, my dad hooked up with my mom with this eternal, timeless and classic pick up line: “Hey, do you want to see my skink? It’s upstairs in my bedroom.” My mom fell for it, so I guess it worked. They got married and they had me, so it had to have worked, you know? It might also be ingrained into my DNA that I fall for guys who are a little weird. I’ve always appreciated weirdness.
My dad works as a chemist at a local chemical supply store (schools and universities), so as an employee, he gets a massive discount. There is a steady supply of chemicals down in a shed far, far away from the house. We don’t want him to blow up or burn down the house. I believe Dave impressed my dad with his knowledge of…impractical chemistry. Like how to maximize the oxidation rate of certain chemical reactions that lead to a large production of heat and gas. Yes, explosives. Did I mention my dad used to work at a fireworks factory? He used to make fireworks more sparkly and more colorful. This is going to be an interesting relationship. If I have children with him, I can imagine how he would bond with our children. Instead of fishing, father and son blow stuff up—bonding over bombs. I’m not sure how he would bond with a daughter. It’s almost Norman Rockwell material, but he had to be high on meth and mescaline to consider this. My parents approve.
[April 16, 2005]
I went out with Dave last night. It was a fun experience. He never fails to crack me up. One minute he is cool and calm, the next minute, he can’t tell the difference between his feet. One of those little quirks I find so cute about him.
My friend, J.T. Diamond, is the lead singer/lead guitarist for Super Ultra Sayonara Banzai. Great band that does every genre of music. If you can stick an electric guitar solo in the song, then they will play it. Hey, they did a pretty rocking version of a country song, so anything is possible.
They play loud and they sing loud. They also party hard while rocking. You can’t have a conversation while listening to such loud music. Dave is rocking along. He is thoroughly enjoying himself.
After a lengthy set complete with an encore, the band ends their set. I introduce Dave to the guys in the band and they get along very fine. It was like a miniature Oddly Smart People convention. I’ve never seen people talk about so many topics in an hour with such skill.
Everyone was getting tired (no surprise since it is 1:30 AM at this point), including myself. So he drops me off at my apartment and he walks me to the door. Such a gentleman, but I don’t expect any less from him. It comes naturally to him.
He says, "I had a great time with you…um…yeah." He sounds so nervous, despite going out with me for a few months. So cute and very endearing. Funny also.
I reply, "Me too. I had a great time also."
It gets awkward since he doesn’t know what to do. Again, I find this cute. He’s so smart but so clueless with certain things.
"Well, we're at your doorstep. Um…yeah…good night."
"You know, it's not a good night unless you kiss me. A silly hug or handshake will not do." I might as well guide him to what he should be doing. Just a little suggestion. He gets the suggestion. And he gets this lesson very well.
"Much better. And that was a definite good night. See you on Monday?"
The awkward stutter comes back. So funny. "Hopefully sooner."
I laughed. "I'll think about it. After I get some sleep. Good night to you." I gave him a kiss on the cheek. I think if I do any more, he might fall down the steps and hurt himself.
He turns around and makes an attempt to walk down the stairs. I think he lost some of his coordination skills. After a little while, he walks away with better coordination. You’ve got to love this.

CHAPTER NINE: AND THE WALLS START TUMBLING DOWN
“Mr. Gorbechev, tear down this wall.”
-President Ronald Reagan
“But we’re never going to survive
Unless we get a little crazy”
-Seal, “Crazy”
“To bear is to conquer our fate.”
-Thomas Campbell, On Visiting a Scene in Argyleshire
“No power or virtue of man could ever have deserved that what has been fated should not have taken place.”
-Marcellinus Ammianus, Historia (XXIII)
[Note from Editors: There is a substantial gap in the chronology of this story. Apparently, Mr. King somehow decided that he would pretend nothing was wrong. He would live his life as if the Itanimulli efforts were working. He would not keep a secret journal that was double-encrypted. He would, for as long as it was humanly possible, pretend nothing was wrong. He would pretend that he had no knowledge of this plot.
What did Mr. King do during this time? He continued his relationship with Evangeline Lauren and during their third year of law school, Mr. King decided that he wanted to continue their relationship after law school. After some planning and compromising, (well, they didn’t have to do that much planning and compromising), they decided to move to California. Mainly because of the sunny weather and the excellent job offers they received due to their stellar performance in law school. Both graduated near the top of their class. Mr. King and Ms. Lauren both received offers from the same law firm in Los Angeles, but in different departments. Mr. King focused on international trade law involving GATT, and Ms. Lauren focused on corporate acquisitions and mergers.
After their relationship passed the four year mark, Mr. King decided that Ms. Lauren was the right woman and Ms. Lauren decided that Mr. King was the right man, they decided to get married. Their marriage was a simple affair, very modest. Everyone they knew thought that this was bound to happen sooner or later, so it came as no surprise.
Currently, the date is June 6, 2009. Mr. King and Ms. Lauren, now Mrs. King, are working at Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright, LLC.]
ONE
Personal Electronic Journal of David King (Decrypted)
[Note from Editors: Mr. King’s former electronic journal was saved on his laptop and on a miniature flash storage device. His laptop sadly, contained a defective battery. Due to a design flaw of the laptop heat sink and fan, the battery overheated very quickly. Without the safety device that vented heat more effectively, the battery got so hot that it burst into flames. Once the laptop erupted into flames, everything on the hard drive was lost. The miniature flash storage device was misplaced and presumed to be lost. After some searching, we, the editors, found the missing flash storage device. Because this device has been replaced by more modern technology, we had to look at old technology journals to find technical specifications for USB ports. Once we found an expert in USB Flash technology and other obsolete technology, it became easy to transfer the data from the USB Flash memory device to more modern computers. For an excellent overview of this technology, read From USB Flash to Quantum Computing: A Look at the Evolution of Computing Technology by Nashwari Al-Hassan.
Thanks to the increased capabilities of modern technology (advanced quantum computing), it was a simple job to break the encryption scheme and to decrypt his journals. The seemingly unbreakable encryption scheme that he used was broken in a millisecond. Modern quantum computing is a technological marvel that has made research so much easier in so many ways.
The second electronic journal was just as easy to decrypt and read. We basically used the same process to decrypt this data storage device.]
*THIS LAPTOP IS PROTECTED BY SILVERFISH ENCRYPTION SOFTWARE*
IN ORDER TO PROCEED, TYPE IN YOUR NAME AND PASSWORD
NAME: DKingTwo
PASS PHRASE: The mind must always be in a state of “flowing,” for when it stops anywhere, that means the flow is interrupted and it is this interruption that is injurious to the well-being of the mind. In the case of the swordsman, it means death.
PLEASE WAIT WHILE THIS IS CONVERTED AND COMPARED TO THE PASS PHRASE STORED IN MEMORY…
QCnAi9AaaH6+XgUZGVtbN42uYdWs/eOFj4plfcnEGAAzo5KlalAAAEEALOYpLu8Qap
A9rFGReD4vaVPUA4oO5NJTo9Ps/tLjH8cBn1294/+f4CwsAqTy9o07DOGfxKiaimMiU
3dEQVmxuU2SapmZzo3SdNWMCBUCzwey90/k3RwEKmEg=DiaH6e2eOV8h9LN96K
aHertasJkSz13/08cvruY+D12qzXcPJtLe50Ov4b=KeQ2xCPikjev
[PASS PHRASE ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL VERSION 2.0]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE (ENCRYPTED):]
VsfKwri*23lksdflkjQOIUJREWkljFDSOIRWOIbvJc/=ErlkdkFDKJSwr90i3qiul98djkldw
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
June 6, 2009 06:12:57PM
I just came back from putting in an intense day at the International Trade Law division of Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright LLC, one of the premier law firms in Los Angeles, and one of the top law firms in the United States. The partners at Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright, LLC boast this law firm is one of the best law firms, bar none in the world. Sometimes I consider this bragging, but after a year working here, I have to generally agree. Evangeline agrees with this assessment also.
The partner I am connected to (like many law firms, all associates have a partner assigned to them as a kind-of mentor. The similarities to John Grisham’s The Firm has run through my mind, but thanks to Google, and some other research has led me to believe that Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright LLC is not connected to a Mafia crime syndicate family. God forbid that the FBI comes to me to be an informer in the firm and risk my life and thereby getting blown up in an unfortunate accident.
One of our clients at Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright LLC is an Australian wine producer located in the Barrossa Valley. It’s not Penfold’s, producer of some of the finest Shiraz in the world. If it were, I would have hoped as a nicely welcome thank you gift, the company would have sent a case or two of their Hermitage Grange. I’ve had a bottle once, and it was one of the best glasses of wine I have ever had. Then again, I once had dinner at a partner’s house (Keith Danworth), along with Evangeline, and this partner had a massive wine cellar. This partner was in a good mood (rumor had it a major client wired a huge check that would assure a generous six-figure bonus to the partners at the end of the year), so he decided to serve the French 1961 and 1982 wines from both Bordeaux and Burgundy. I’m not a serious wine person, but I have a basic knowledge of what is excellent wine and what is not worth drinking. From what I have read (in order to know something about wines), the vintages from 1961 and 1982 are quite possibly, the best vintage years ever. Some might add in 2000 as a particularly fine year, but not as good as 1961 and 1982. The prize wine was a 1982 Romanee Conti from Burgundy, one of the finest red wines in the world from one of the finest wine producing regions of the world. Extremely rare and extremely expensive. It was also, very delicious. He would have pulled out a 1982 La Tache, but that would have been overkill. Not that I know a law firm partner that doesn’t do overkill.
Any ways, this wine producer owns a fine parcel of land in the Barrossa Valley producing a very good, if not excellent Shiraz and some very good red wine blends. They were selling their wines mainly in Australia, New Zealand, and in some locales around the globe. One of the places was a certain country that shall be unnamed. When they tried to sell their wine in this country, they were shocked to find out that their wines would be subject to an additional 100% ad valorem tax according to the country’s recently enacted alcoholic beverage laws.
This was a simple case of a blatant violation of GATT’s Article III National Treatment rules. According to the national treatment rule of GATT, a country cannot discriminate in favor of their own country instead of another country. Basically, you can’t treat your country’s product better than another country’s like product. This issue of taxing foreign products at a higher rate than your own products has been litigated several times with the Japan Alcoholic Beverages, the South Korean Alcoholic Beverages, and the Chile Alcoholic Beverages cases.
Basically, from a GATT Article III viewpoint, you have to look at Article III:2. The first sentence of this article refers to like products, and the second sentence refers to unlike products. Basically, even though the Australian wine may not be a like product under GATT Article III and the test found in the Japan Alcoholic Beverage case, the internal tax placed on foreign alcoholic beverages (like Australian wine) was a violation of GATT. In order to make this connection, one has to start with GATT Article III:2 second sentence, and connect it to GATT Article III:1 by using Ad Article III: 2. This Ad Article is an interpretive section that basically says that unlike products can be treated the same way as “like products” if the elasticity of substitution is high enough. A person will drink a foreign beer despite having a liking for French wine if French wine is not economically viable. Foreign beer is an acceptable substitute and can be considered a “like product.”
This was a simple case to do. I had learned about this during one of my International Trade Law classes. My professor stated you had to be amazingly ignorant in international trade law if you missed this issue as it has been tried multiple times in GATT arbitration and WTO dispute settlement and the country with the internal tax has lost every single time.
The tricky part was doing the research, pulling out the cases, and putting the legal arguments in a decent written form. Obviously, it just doesn’t work as a legal document to put down something like this scrawled, let alone neatly typed and formatted on a piece of paper:

“The country of [insert country name here] is absolutely, positively wrong and
is, quite simply, amazingly ignorant of international trade law, particularly
GATT Article III. For legal support of this view, read the Japan Alcoholic
Beverages, the Korea Alcoholic Beverages, and the Chile Alcoholic Beverages
cases. If this actually makes it to the WTO Dispute Settlement Board, the
country with the tax as legislation will lose.”

Oh no. You have to couch it in much nicer and much more obtuse language that will sound like a proper and unintelligible legal brief complete with cites and quotes to cases and statutes. This is how you manage to bill a client $300 an hour for your time while you play golf and have a couple of drinks at a fancy restaurant downtown.
I think that I am having one of those déjà vu moments. Well, maybe you can’t call it a déjà vu moment, but it feels like I have seen someone before. The law firm I work at has an in-house psychiatrist and an in-house psychologist. These two doctors are on call every day. You can set an appointment or drop in unannounced at any time.
I decide to drop in to say hello, you know, see what these doctors are like. If these people don’t seem to be legit or their manner is not what I want in a doctor, I won’t go to them. I’ll go to someone else, you know. Did I get a surprise of my life when I walked into Doctor Mikhail Chernow’s office, the psychiatrist at CWCW LLC. I knock on his door and he says “Hello! Come on it!”
I think I have heard this voice before. No, I couldn’t have. It can’t be any of the partners, since I have met them all. It can’t be any of the associates, since it can’t be one of them, as they don’t have open access. I have heard this voice, but I can’t place it anywhere.
OK, so I enter the door. I sit down. The man sitting in the chair turns around. My pulse is racing faster and faster. I hate doctors and this is no exception. I see the face for the first time. And then it hits me like the proverbial ton of bricks. I have seen this person before…
While in law school, I did a tunnel expedition over at River Five Points. After that incident, I sent one of my friends over to Reliant Field Systems, the building over at Cedar Hills North Industrial Area. The odd building that all the cables led to. He took some secret videotape while visiting that place. One of the people he took a picture of, was a man who identified himself as Doctor Franklin Josephson. He was a staff psychiatrist over at that place. What are the odds this is the same person? Not that likely. There are coincidences, but twice? That’s not a coincidence, but something really fishy.
“Have I met you before? You seem shocked to see me.”
I have to think fast, but sound casual. “No, you haven’t. You just look like an old professor of mine from college. He used to teach an ethics class. When I saw your face, I thought I was seeing Professor Gottfried again.” Good recovery, I think.
“Ah, I see. What brings you here?”
“I just wanted to see the psychiatrist and the psychologist. You know, introduce myself and get to know them better. I don’t want to talk about everything with people I don’t feel comfortable with. It just seems counterproductive.”
“I see. That is a very logical thing to do. As a psychiatrist, I wouldn’t want to be open with a person I can’t trust as well. It’s the same with everything else in life.”
I have this strange feeling while sitting down. As I think about it, I was just going to stand there for a few moments and walk away. Why am I sitting down? It was like someone was telling me to sit down and talk. Tell me everything. Tell the truth. Damn. Another coincidence. Just like that time in the tunnels, but instead of the fear, it’s the truth-telling option. Must tell Evangeline to avoid the psychiatrist. But is she going to believe me? Probably not. It sounds too strange.
“Yes, the truth is important. Especially when you…when you…”
“What are you going to say?” The glint in his eyes. Must resist. He wants me to tell what I know. My gut instinct says this. Evade by telling the truth. Evade by telling the truth, but not what he wants to hear. The truth.
“Especially when you are so stressed and overworked. I’ve been trying to keep the wife happy and the boss happy. Mr. Speradino can be a brutal taskmaster. He has me working pretty long hours, but I guess that is expected with the newer associates. He’s one of the first people here and one of the last people to leave the office. Mr. Speradino would like me to work these same hours. He can be such a…such a…how do you say this nicely? Hard headed jerk? Sometimes he has unrealistic demands that rationally cannot be met unless you are inhuman or a robot. The tech people I talk to say his demands are impossible. Even the other partners agree with me. My wife, Evangeline, also works here and this can put a crimp on the personal time. Trying to juggle everything so it all works out. By the time we both leave, we’re tired. Weekends are our only time to have any time together. Yeah, we work in the same building, but it’s just not enough. As much as I love the law, I don’t think discussing corporate acquisitions and mergers over a hastily eaten lunch qualifies as legitimate personal time. Or something to bond over. I prefer a nice, quiet dinner with a glass of wine. This schedule and his demands aren’t helping. I would be at home with her right now, but he wanted, no, demanded me to be here to work on a simple yet pointless brief that could have easily been done on Monday.”
Doctor Josephson, I mean, Doctor Chernow, looks enthusiastic, but it seems fake, put on. He just doesn’t want to listen to this little domestic problem. His acting, however, seems so genuine. If he weren’t one of the They, or a sympathizer, I would have fell for it. This guy deserves an Oscar.
He gives a sigh and a nod of sympathy, as if he understands. “I feel so sorry for you. I truly can sympathize. A lot of the associates who got placed with Speradino feel this way. You know, as the psychiatrist, I talk to everyone, and I’ve talked to him so many times. He brushes it off. You seem a little different…um, what is your name again?”
“It’s David King.”
“Mr. King? The law school wunderkind? One of the top catches for this firm, along with your wife? It is nice to meet you.”
“Thanks. It was nice to meet you.”
“About your issues with Mr. Speradino. It’s common for all the associates to feel overworked when dealing with him. I suggest that you try not to worry about this. I’ll talk with him and some of the other partners about this, if it would make you feel better. Maybe you should go home and consider it a good day for you? I’m sure that it won’t do you any harm. You do look tired. In fact, I should probably go home as well. Yes, very soon. It should do you some good. Go home, have dinner with your wife, do something other than law. Life is short in the scheme of things, and you should make the most of it. Getting another five, ten billing hours is not that important. Yes?”
He is absolutely right. I do need to spend more time with Evangeline. We, especially me, have been working very hard and not spending enough time with each other. This is advice I would have taken with or without their influence. For once, They are suggesting actions that I would have taken, with or without their influence. Everything else they have suggested, that is a different story. Some actions, I would have not taken. Then again, this brings up the question of free will and what exactly is free will. And if free will exists, then it brings up the fundamental question of exactly how “free” is free will. No matter what, I have another reason to get out of that room. I also have to get out of that room to get that damn voice out of my head. Those suggestions. Those suggestions. He is one of the They that have been a part of my life. They are ruining my sanity. They are ruining my life by their actions. I now question everything that I do, wondering if I am solely making these decisions, or if, in some way, They or one of their agents of influence is steering me in a certain direction.
“You’re absolutely right…Doctor Chernow.” I exit the door and turn around. “It was nice talking to you. I hope to talk to you soon.”
“I was just doing my job. I hope to talk to you soon as well. The door is always open.”
Man, I am tired. I am very tired. I guess that trying to keep everything inside, trying to keep the secret I know a secret is driving me mentally crazy in some way. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe this experiment doesn’t exist and it is just a damn paranoid delusion. I could say it to someone, but will they believe me. Probably not. Would any rational person believe it if I told them? Some days, despite knowing this to be true, I doubt myself.
Man, I’ve spent too much time on the computer. I think I hear Evangeline asking me to come downstairs to have dinner. I put a bottle of a nice California white wine in the wine fridge. It should be nice with the dinner we are having. Well, I’ll be raising a glass to the Australian wine maker. They might want to buy some champagne to celebrate a victory. And the partners might want a bottle also, for it is likely they will be getting a big check from this wine maker.

TWO
Notes Made by Head of MCRGES
[Note from Editors: As editors, we were overjoyed to find these notes made by the Head of MCRGES about this interesting event. These notes show that the head of MCRGES played an active part in these events and not a passive role. They also demonstrate how amazingly clueless he was about Mr. King’s knowledge of the experiment.]
I met with Mr. King today at the Los Angeles branch of Chambers Watkins Calcara Wright, LLC. It is a refreshing change to be in such a cosmopolitan city than in the less civilized areas I was in. I am very glad that Mr. King and his wife, AOI-101PERS decided to move here. If they had decided to stay in the same area as the law school, I probably would have went crazy. This would have been a rare occasion for an Itanimulli to lose their sanity. Instead of Mr. King being the subject of an experiment, I would have been the subject of an experiment.
I now have the identity of Mikhail Bernikov Chernow, Ph.D. According to the well-written legend provided by the Itanimulli Scientific Council, I have a Ph.D. in abnormal behavior psychology from Georgetown University, trained in modern psychiatry from Harvard Medical School, and a long list of articles published in the Journal of American Medical Association and the American Psychology Association. Of course, this is not worth anything unless I have the correct knowledge based upon my academic credential. As an Itanimulli, my actual knowledge is far superior to any human, so this should not be much of a problem. My only problem is that I cannot be overly superior and pull up some obscure knowledge that a human would not know. It is hard to keep this knowledge inside.
At this moment, I cannot tell if Mr. King knows of the plan, and if so, how much does he know. This is the first time I cannot say anything without a near 100% certainty. If I were human, my gut instinct, assuming I have one as an Itanimulli, tells me that he knows of the plan and this is all an elaborate ruse. And yet, as an Itanimulli, I must use what logic dictates.
Logically, the syllogism is not complete. My chain of deductive reasoning is not complete. Yes, I could use inductive reasoning, but that lack a certain sense of infallibility that deductive reasoning does not lack. Of course, if I use deductive reasoning, and I use just one faulty premise, the entire chain falls apart and is not linked securely.
Given the short meeting I had with him, I think that he might know of the plan, but is hiding this knowledge very well. He has not told anyone. [Note from Editors: To use a faulty but useful analogy, if a person is accused of a crime like murder, do you think this person is going to tell people they killed someone? Do you think they are going to say, “You know what, I am guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Please toss me in jail right now!” Highly unlikely. The person is going to deny this or not say anything at all. Mr. King is not that foolish, considering that if he does tell someone, unwanted consequences could result from such a gaffe.] I find this amazing. If he has known of this plan, he has kept it in for a long time, more than I can bear.
I used a ThetaPlus Mind Modification Machine set onto a “truth telling” mode. This is not a normal setting on the ThetaPlus machines, even for specially made models. The geniuses at the technology department did this in a week! In a week! Excellent work. Yes, they did excellent work. We tried the machine on at least a hundred humans and everyone told the truth. Every single human. How the technology department managed this feat is beyond my comprehension. They deserve a large bonus for their work.
When I asked him questions, he seemed to have answered them truthfully. After all, the ThetaPlus machine was set to truth-telling mode. We did use a representative sample of people given the large variety of people we used to test this machine. It is highly unlikely that this machine is wrong. [Note from Editors: We wonder if the Itanimulli used a more representative sample of people. We wonder if the Itanimulli tried their mind manipulation machine on someone who wasn’t prone in telling the truth. Or people who weren’t so well-trained in hiding the truth. We’re pretty sure there are those on their planet which have this talent. We guess that they didn’t consider this possibility.]
His answers to my question, according to the machine, were the truth. They were very plausible and they did sound like something an overworked and over-stressed associate would say. I have talked to Mr. Speradino about his overbearing manner with the associates, and I found him to be a stubborn and thoroughly disagreeable man. I have checked both Mr. King’s and AOI-101PERS’s work records and such, and they are working 80 hours a week right now. Then again, all of the other associates are working that many hours per week. Then again, unlike most of the associates, they are married. With my research I have done, I have discovered that married people do not interact in the same manner as single people. If one or both married persons work long hours, their marriage deteriorates. Or their quality of life suffers or decreases, leading to other problems that cause a marriage to break down. Given this, I think that it might be good to find out a way to reduce their workload. At this moment, AOI-101PERS is the closest link to Mr. King right now.
AOI-101PERS, well, Evangeline King, formerly Evangeline Lauren, is our only link to Mr. King right now. He attends some social functions, but only those that involve the law firm. Other social functions are nonexistent. His wife, Evangeline, does not seem to mind. In fact, they both have come to the mutual agreement to spend all of their free time with each other. This is quite commendable, but up to a certain point. Without any other social interactions, we cannot fully judge his mental condition.
In some way, oddly enough, I can sympathize with Mr. King. This is not what I first intended when coming with this experiment. It would be so much easier to understand him, to figure out what he was doing if I understood his motives. In my capacity as Doctor Chernow, I have often though this as the only possibility. I have often thought so. I say this with a bit of venom. But, if I understood his motives, I would be part of him. That, that tiny little thing, would violate the Treaty. Yes, the Treaty. I cannot violate the Treaty.
Yes, this is so. But I think that if he is hiding his knowledge, he is like a stretched rubber band. Any more tension and he will break. Something will snap. I am sure of this, but I do not know why.
I don’t know why, but I keep thinking that someone is telling me this. It seems as if someone is telling me what to do. I can’t get this feeling out of my head. That my actions up to now have been planned in some way. Yes, I did make a plan. A plan about how to run this experiment. But on a deeper level, I feel like someone is planning out my life in some strange experiment. This is so ironic. It would be the cruelest irony to discover that someone is using me in an experiment while I am conducting this experiment using a human. What a strange twist of fate that would be…

THREE
Excerpts from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[Note from Editors: Oddly enough, the entries in AOI-101PERS’ personal journal do not have dates. We have scanned every single journal entry in AOI-101PERS’ journal, and we have not found a single date in the journal. We even had our research assistants go through the entire journal several times and they did not find a single date in this person’s journal. Not a single date at all. Not a single day at all. In addition to not being a singe date written in AOI-101PERS’ journal, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. We repeat, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. Why AOI-101PERS failed to write down any dates is beyond our comprehension.
In order to figure out what date the journal entry was made or a close approximation for it, we had to look at the journal entry and look through numerous calendars and documents to figure out the date the journal entry was made. Our research assistants were not happy at this prospect. This work, was, and still is, very boring and very tedious. They were not particularly happy while doing this work. We were not happy either. The only good thing that they found about this job was the hourly wage they were paid: $15.50 an hour. This was a dramatic increase from the usual $12.00 an hour they were paid.
We, the editors, have put in dates to make the journal entries make some kind of chronological sense. These dates are in brackets.
By now, the reader should know that AOI-101PERS is Evangeline King, the wife of Mr. King. But, for an agent of influence, she is not that involved in influencing Mr. King. She is a reluctant, if nonexistent agent of influence given her entries in her journal.]
[June 6, 2009]
I had an odd conversation with Dave during dinner. We were talking about what we did. I decided to sleep in today. When he came back, he told me about his day. Dave talked about the simple GATT question he solved in less than five minutes. It involved some dreadfully complex GATT Article that I have never heard of, let alone would ever want to see. Apparently, some country decided to enact an internal liquor tax that heavily taxed foreign liquor. This law, according to Article III of GATT violated the National Treatment rule. He says it is easy, but he is the one with the specialization in international law. It would be akin to me saying a problem in corporate mergers and acquisitions easy. He would find the simplest problem amazingly confusing.
During dinner, he mentioned that he visited the in-house psychiatrist, a Doctor Chernow. Dave mentioned that I shouldn’t see Doctor Chernow. He said that Doctor Chernow seemed like a nice guy, but Doctor Chernow just wasn’t trustworthy in Dave’s opinion. I asked him what he meant by this, to be more specific. After all, this is such a vague statement and without and evidence, this means nothing. I need some more details to make sure this statement is based upon facts. As much as I love my husband and as much as I trust his judgment, I don’t trust him totally. After all, I am an independent woman.
Dave said, “I went to say hello, and once I entered his office, I had the strangest feeling. I had this odd vibe. I’m not sure how to explain it. It was like the walls were closing in. Like I was compelled to tell the truth. Not in the good way of taking a weight off your shoulders or the pride of doing what is good, but an oppressive kind of feeling. Like a pile of bricks being piled on your chest. Like a form of coercion. But even when you tell the truth, the pressure still remains.”
I’ve never known him to feel this way before. This is strange. Very strange. I asked him what else made him feel like this.
He replied, “You know, he had this strange manner in asking questions. He would ask a question and then look at me like a wolf hunting prey. This oddly lupine look. A sly look. It was the strangest and scariest look. Never seen a look like this before.”
I gave him a dubious look. This was strange enough. Maybe he just misinterpreted his style. But he remained steadfast in his beliefs.
He gave up. “You’re probably right. Go ahead and visit him once. If you like him, then go and visit him. But I think that, in my opinion, should keep away from Doctor Chernow. That’s just my opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. A large grain of salt.”
I said, “Our dinner is getting cold and the wine is getting warm. That’s not a good combination for any meal. Let’s have dinner and not think about this for a while. Yes?” I give him a warm smile. This is a smile that will change his mood to a happier one.
He laughs. “You’re right. This pork tenderloin is delicious. What is in here?”
“It’s your recipe. I tweaked it a little bit by adding in some other spices. After dinner, how about a lazy night? Watch a movie, have some ice cream, do nothing?”
“Sounds good.”
Nothing like solving the little domestic problems that can arise. I think I will check on this odd Doctor Chernow next week when we go back to work.
[June 8, 2009]
I visited Doctor Chernow today. He is a very friendly man. I probably would visit him in the future, but it is highly unlikely. As much as I razzed him about his views of Chernow, I have to admit that Dave is correct when it comes to the oppressive atmosphere. When I walked in, it felt so oppressive in there. And I had the worst headache. Odd. I rarely get headaches unless I have too much wine or I get sick. I know I haven’t drunk too much. And I am not sick right now. So I don’t know why I had that dreadful headache while in his office.
Doctor Chernow acted funny, almost obsessively protective with something on his desk. Maybe it was a piece of sculpture. I’m not sure how to describe this object. It was a flat metal thing on his desk, like a plaque. I accidentally brushed my hand across it. It’s not like I am going to steal it or pocket it. Oh no, I was reaching for a pencil, since he had me fill out a little survey. And he started acting like I was going to take a knife to a priceless Picasso painting. He said it was very delicate and expensive. It looked like a piece of metal to me, nothing that important. Strange man. I guess that is one of the prices you pay to get a little slice of genius. I’ve known many smart people, and all of these geniuses (from artistic to pure mental genius) had some kind of quirk.
You know, given the oppressive feeling inside his office, I am not going to visit his office unless it is absolutely necessary. That seems highly unlikely.
[June 23, 2009]
I’ve been having the scariest dream while I sleep. I’m not sure what to make out of it, but when I wake up, I wake up sweating with my heart beating a million beats a minute.
The last time I had this dream, it was after me and Dave came back from a wedding. Our friends from law school, Eric Strathmore Grey and Caroline Anne Wolfe, got married during the weekend at a charming little church outside Aspen, Colorado. This church was one of those little churches you see in magazine photos. A roughly polished limestone exterior, a bluish-gray slate roof, a row of stained glass windows. And inside, the church was just as charming. Old, well-polished and well-worn oak pews with red seats. It was one of those perfect churches you would want to have a wedding in. The wedding was traditional. All of the little details that went into it were so nice. The white flowers festooning the pews were a decorative touch. The little white bows. The old light fixtures. So beautiful.
When we arrived home, we were both tired. I had to cancel a meeting with one of the more important clients. The partner in charge didn’t mind, as he would rather have his brown-nosing and totally worthless son to have a chance at dealing with clients. The partner’s son is a moron who doesn’t know anything about corporate law. He just spent a bunch of time drinking in the bars instead of hitting the books. But he did graduate (just barely and with a lot of strings being pulled by his father, who, by the way, is a major donor to the law school and a distinguished alumnus) from one of the finer law schools in the nation. I think he mentioned that is was Harvard or one of those schools.
We decide to sleep early. During the middle of the night, I have the dream. It is the scariest and most unnerving dream I have ever had. I don’t know what to make of it.
Some time during the night, I have this dream and I wake up. I am sweating. My heart is beating fast in my chest. It feels like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.
I turn around and I see that Dave is awake also. He is rubbing the side of his head. I see a red blotch on his face.
“You have a pretty good backhand. Did you play tennis, by any chance?” He continues rubbing the side of his head.
“I’m so sorry. I just had a terrible nightmare.”
“I know. I felt your hand against my face, remember?”
“Oh, I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s OK.” Dave is very calm and soothing. He brushes my hair back from my face. He is very gentle. “You had a bad dream and you couldn’t stop what you did. It was an accident that couldn’t be stopped. It’s OK.”
I feel much better right now. I sometimes wonder what it would be like without him at moments like there. I am calming down by breathing a little deeper. My heartbeat is slowing down slowly. Dave is holding me tightly.
“Go to sleep. Go to sleep.” He whispers in my ear.
Before I fall asleep, I ask him, “What did I say during my dream?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. If you did say anything, I wouldn’t know.”
I don’t know why, but I feel much better. I fall asleep knowing that I am going to be safe. I hope I don’t have this dream again.

FOUR
Personal Electronic Journal of David King (Decrypted)
*THIS LAPTOP IS PROTECTED BY SILVERFISH ENCRYPTION SOFTWARE*
IN ORDER TO PROCEED, TYPE IN YOUR NAME AND PASSWORD
NAME: DKingTwo
PASS PHRASE: The mind must always be in a state of “flowing,” for when it stops anywhere, that means the flow is interrupted and it is this interruption that is injurious to the well-being of the mind. In the case of the swordsman, it means death.
PLEASE WAIT WHILE THIS IS CONVERTED AND COMPARED TO THE PASS PHRASE STORED IN MEMORY…
QCnAi9AaaH6+XgUZGVtbN42uYdWs/eOFj4plfcnEGAAzo5KlalAAAEEALOYpLu8QapA
9rFGReD4vaVPUA4oO5NJTo9Ps/tLjH8cBn1294/+f4CwsAqTy9o07DOGfxKiaimMiU3d
EQVmxuU2SapmZzo3SdNWMCBUCzwey90/k3RwEKmEg=DiaH6e2eOV8h9LN96KaHe
rtasJkSz13/08cvruY+D12qzXcPJtLe50Ov4b=KeQ2xCPikjev
[PASS PHRASE ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL VERSION 2.0]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE (ENCRYPTED):]
VsfKwri*23lksdflkjQOIUJREWkljFDSOIRWOIbvJc/=ErlkdkFDKJSwr90i3qiul98djkldw
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
June 28, 2009 12:47:02PM
For the longest time I’ve always thought that finally, I was safe from Them. That all changed when I saw one of Them at work. I know that Mr. Chernow is not Mr. Chernow, but one of Them. He is a member of “They,” the nameless, faceless foe. I always thought They were just experimenters. They would stay impartial and not get personally involved. I was wrong. Now this fight gets personal. They stepped over the line.
I have a good idea that They have my wife as an Agent of Influence. Yes, my wife is an Agent of Influence. I’m not sure what her role is, but I am sure that she is resisting. Just the fact that they have her in their snares is making me angry. It is driving me insane to think that she is a part of this experiment. Even worse, she is supposed to play a role in this experiment. I hope she continues to resist.
How do I know? From her nightmares. The dream state is where you discover the most about a person and what they are thinking. It’s as the psychologists say the gateway to the subconscious.
She suffered from a nightmare last week, I think on the 22nd. Yes, it was that day since we arrived from a mutual friend’s wedding on that day. We were both tired from the jet lag, as well as the wedding reception afterwards. I think we both had a drink too many at the reception. I know I had more than one drink too many.
What does she say? First she says, “I’m sorry Dave. I was asked to tell them information.”
Then she shudders and starts flailing. Her arms fly in all directions. I know since her hands and elbows have hit me many times. I think I have the bruises as proof. My ribs are kind of sore. Evangeline, despite her looks, is tough and she is strong in every way. One summer, we decided to go to Colorado for an extreme-sports vacation. One day, we decided do a particularly brutal hike in the Rocky Mountains. I have done this before in the Rocky Mountains and I have taken on some of the hellish sections of the Appalachian Mountain Trail. This trail in the Rocky Mountains was ten brutally tough miles over granite, chert, and other painful, ankle bruising, knee jarring, and shin cracking material. We also have done other activities like Japanese kendo, various martial arts, and white water rafting. I personally know how tough she is, pound for pound. Well, pound for pound, she can beat the living daylights out of anyone.
Then Evangeline says, “No! I am not betraying David! I’m not saying anything! I am not saying anything!”
The June 22 nightmare finally pushed me into action. As much as I can’t trust anyone, as much as I can’t believe anyone who is an Agent, I have to trust Evangeline. I can’t leave her despite this. I just can’t. I just can’t.
I calmed her down and slowly put her back to sleep. And I lied. I told her that I didn’t hear anything, and if I did, I wouldn’t care. I didn’t know what she said. I now feel awful. But it is for self-preservation purposes. God forgive me for what I have done. Forgive me what I am about to do…

FIVE
Excerpt from the Personal Journal of AOI-101PERS
[Note from Editors: Oddly enough, the entries in AOI-101PERS’ personal journal do not have dates. We have scanned every single journal entry in AOI-101PERS’ journal, and we have not found a single date in the journal. We even had our research assistants go through the entire journal several times and they did not find a single date in this person’s journal. Not a single date at all. Not a single day at all. In addition to not being a singe date written in AOI-101PERS’ journal, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. We repeat, there was not a single mention of a day of the week. Why AOI-101PERS failed to write down any dates is beyond our comprehension.
In order to figure out what date the journal entry was made or a close approximation for it, we had to look at the journal entry and look through numerous calendars and documents to figure out the date the journal entry was made. Our research assistants were not happy at this prospect. This work, was, and still is, very boring and very tedious. They were not particularly happy while doing this work. We were not happy either. The only good thing that they found about this job was the hourly wage they were paid: $15.50 an hour. This was a dramatic increase from the usual $12.00 an hour they were paid.
We, the editors, have put in dates to make the journal entries make some kind of chronological sense. These dates are in brackets.
By now, the reader should know that AOI-101PERS is Evangeline King, the wife of Mr. King. But, for an agent of influence, she is not that involved in influencing Mr. King. She is a reluctant, if nonexistent agent of influence given her entries in her journal.]
[July 2, 2009]
I am not sure what to make of the current events right now. I am not sure what to make of my life right now. I still don’t know what made Dave lose his sanity. He is now in a mental institution for some reason I do not know.
Poor Dave. He just snapped during work and started acting bizarre.
From what I have heard, at least from the people there at the incident, he just suddenly snapped.
Supposedly, Dave was inside the building talking to some people from the Accounting Department about their idiocy. Dave, earlier that day, was at Villa Della Spiga, entertaining a large contingent of executives from Bottega Rossetti, an Italian company specializing in fine leather products. The morons in accounting decided that zuppa de pescadore was a wine, and according to accounting, that was not a valid purchase, and therefore, he would not be refunded. If you know Italian, you would know that zuppa de pescadore means seafood soup. He even brought along a copy of the menu and he even had one of the executives explain this to the morons in accounting. The people would not listen. Not a valid purchase in their opinion since it “sounded” like a wine. The Italian executives were quite surprised at how amazingly recalcitrant and in their opinion, (pretty freaking stupid) the accounting people were in this law firm. The employees are not surprised, as it is well known in any business in America that the accounting people are morons, even possibly subhuman trolls. Because Dave went through so much trouble for two damn bowls of seafood soup, the Italian executives decided to go on with the deal, but at a higher price than they had originally negotiated before. Dave was happy about this, but not with the infinite legions of dumb morons in accounting.
To cool down, he decided to go outside for a minute. After a few seconds outside, Dave ran back inside, screaming. Doctor Chernow, who first met Dave, claimed that Dave said, “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I HAVE PROOF! YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!”
Doctor Chernow, naturally, is shocked. “What are you talking about? Maybe you should go home and rest. You seem stressed out over something.”
Dave is angry and he says the same thing again. This is coming from Doctor Chernow. I don’t trust him at all. There is something strange about him. Dave was right about Doctor Chernow. Something about him seems odd. I don’t know what is strange about him, but it is a gut instinct I have.
Apparently, according to Doctor Chernow, Dave was talking about the rain. According to what Doctor Chernow said, Dave was talking about how it was raining; yet it was sunny over the law firm at that moment. I’m beginning to think that Dave is seriously stressed and the stress got to him. Poor dear. I think I will have to visit him more often. I think that work can wait for a while.
[July 18, 2009]
I visited Dave today. He seems well adjusted, though I find it crazy that the doctors there consider him suicidal. It is absolutely crazy. Dave does not have any suicidal tendencies.
While there, the doctor in charge of Dave, a Doctor Harrigan, handed me a metal box. It looked like one of those Chinese wooden puzzle boxes, but made out of metal. He asked me to give it to Dave. I am not sure what it is, but the Doctor said that it would be useful. Something to pass the time with.
Strange. At least Dave looks healthy. I wish they let him out soon.
[July 25, 2009]
I visited Dave today. I am going to try to visit him every Saturday. He has not made an effort to open the box I was given by Doctor Harrigan. For some reason, I feel that Doctor Harrigan is much different than any person I have ever met. He almost seems inhuman, but in a different type of way.
He reassured me that everything would be fine. I trust him for some reason.
I think that I will continue to trust Doctor Harrigan. He is a good man.
I hope Dave gets out of there soon.

CHAPTER TEN: ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
“Here is the devil-and-all to pay.”
-Cervantes, Don Quixote (bk. IV, pt. I, ch. X)
“Doubt yourself and you doubt everything you see. Judge yourself and you see judges everywhere. But if you listen to the sound of your own voice, you can rise above doubt and judgment. And you can see forever.”
-Edmund Hoyle, Twenty-four Rules for Learners (rule 12)
“Fortunately psychoanalysis is not the only way to resolve inner conflicts. Life itself still remains a very effective therapist.”
-Karen Horney
ONE
Journal of David King
[Note from Editors: While spending time at the Green Mountain Mental Health Clinic, Mr. King went through numerous physical and mental exams. All of his physical exams came up negative for any physical abnormalities inside his brain that may lead to behavior issues. His mental exams came up negative as well. Yes, his mental exams came up with personality disorders like a mildly increased peak for schizotypal personality and a higher than normal level for avoidant personality, but these are nothing to be worried about. Many fully functioning people suffer from these personality types without any problems in functioning. While at Green Mountain, all of his food was pre-cut to reduce the chance that he might commit suicide or cause physical damage to himself. This was unnecessary, as Mr. King had no intention to hurt or injure himself. He would not damage his body as long as it served him in gathering information and in investigating the truth. After a month in Green Mountain, they decided that Mr. King was not that much of a risk, so they allowed him to have a steady supply of paper and pencils. Instead of taking these papers at the end of the day, the doctor in charge of his case allowed him to keep his papers. This action would prove to be vital in proving that his theory was correct. It allowed him to escape and brought an end to the experiment.]
August 2, 2009
Here I am in a mental institution. Of course, the people call it a mental health institution; they have to make it sound so much nicer, but it is a place where they put all of the “crazy” people. All of the people who are here suffer from an abnormal mental profile. There are people who suffer from mental disorders like life-crippling, uncontrollable obsessive-compulsive disorder. And people who are suicidal. People who have delusions of being Emperor of Antarctica. The stereotypical “I am Napoleon” delusion does not, strangely enough, does not exist. I guess that the mentally unstable have some standards to meet when they have mental disorders. Cliché delusions do exist and they are assiduously avoided. Schizophrenics who enter a catatonic state and freeze into statue-like positions. It is quite an assembly. I feel like a character in One Flew Over the Cookoo’s Nest. There is no Nurse Cratchett or the lobotomy room.
I am now stuck in a box full of mentally unstable people. Just because I tell the truth. I tell the truth that some unknown group is against me, using me in an experiment. I had the evidence. Rain was falling everywhere except over the law firm. And I get put into the mental institution for my efforts. How strange fate is. Now I am diagnosed as a possible paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of persecution. It’s all psychobabble. Code words for a person who is nuts. Plain and simple. A person who has irrational ideas of the world is all against him. This is what I am suffering from. That is my problem. Yes, the world is against me. Not the entire world, but an unknown group. In my world, that is enough.
August 3, 2009
I’m surprised that the mental institution is allowing me to use a pencil. They won’t let me use a knife of any kind, for fear of me trying to kill myself. Haven’t they considered the possibility that I would take this pencil and shove it into my eye socket? Sure, this would be a very hard way to kill myself, but if I am that suicidal and that determined, anything is possible. Then again, why would I try to kill myself? I want to prove this conspiracy exists. I’m not going to kill myself.
I finally solved the little puzzle box Evangeline gave me on July 18th. I think it was July 18. At least it was what the calendar that hangs on the wall says. The attendant changes it every day. And Evangeline said that it was July 18. I guess I have to trust them.
Solving it was fiendishly hard. I had to press and push and do all of these complex manipulations. At first, I left it sitting on my desk, but after a week or so, I started to make an effort to solve it.
Once I solved the puzzle, guess what I found. It was a metal card. When I ran my finger over it, I had the oddest feeling. It felt like an electrical charge went through my head and I felt this burst of mental clarity. I was beginning to understand everything. [Note from Editors: We have no idea of what this metal card was, but if we were to use an analogy, it would be akin to the Itanimulli ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machine. This metal device, however, seems to be much more advanced than the ThetaPlus, much more advanced than the ThetaPlus. Now we are left with several questions. One, is Doctor Harrigan who he claims to be? Two, what role is he playing? Is he here to help Mr. King or hinder Mr. King?] If I were a betting man, I would think the odds are good that this is a mind manipulation machine of some sort.
Now, if I can only figure out a way to control this device. I might have to ask Dr. Hannigan about what he knows…
August 4, 2009
I thanked Doctor Harrigan for the puzzle box. I also handed him the metal thing inside. He was impressed that I managed to open the box.
“As you may know, I like to solve puzzles of all types. Crosswords, riddles, anything. You can consider life to be like a puzzle. A lot more complex, but a puzzle none the less.”
“Hmm…yes, that is an interesting simile.” He rubs his chin. Then he takes the metal thing and rubs him fingers on it. I’m not sure what he is doing, but I’m thinking he is programming the thing in some kind of way. “Oh, by the way, here you go.”
He hands me the metal thing. What am I supposed to do with this? I try to hand it back.
“Oh no. This is a gift. One that you will need later. Think about this. The ancient Chinese considered metal one of the five elements. In order to fly into the air, you must ground yourself. Once you do that, let your mind flow like water. Only then, you can spark a fire. Doubt yourself and you cannot do anything. Free yourself, and you will see forever. You will rise above everything. The mind is the strongest thing in the world.”
Huh? What the hell is he talking about? If I am crazy, I would like the doctor to make some sense. At least my time here will be useful.
“I see confusion. Hold the metal piece in your hand and you will figure everything out.”
And with that, he left.
[August 8. 2009]
Evangeline came to visit today. I am wondering why she still comes here to visit me. I guess that she loves me. Wait, I know she loves me. That is why we married.
I told her about the odd statement that the Doctor told me earlier in the week. She thought about the statement for a while and she came up with an answer.
“The metal thing is the key to solving your problem.”
“What?”
“It’s obvious. This thing you have in your hand”—she points to the metal thing—“is a mind manipulation machine of some sort. I am sounding crazy, but I know I am not. If you interpret his statements, he is telling you in order to get yourself out of this mess, you must hold the metal card in your hand and think about freedom. Once you do that, you will get the solution you want.”
I look at her funny. Then she gives me the look. I decide to listen to her.
I hold the metal card in my hand and think about freedom. Instantly, I feel the course of energy flow through my body. This is a brilliant machine. It operates on thoughts.
Yes, I now know how to escape this mess. I will use this machine to expose Chernow as one of Them. Yes, this will work. The information was in here all along. Now I wonder who exactly is Doctor Hannigan and how much does he know. I guess I will never know. Probably a medical secret.

Another Update to the Mess...

2006-11-21T05:41:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE REVERSAL OF FORTUNE
"Fotune rota volvitur; descendo minoratus; alter in altum tollitur." (The wheel of Fortune turns; I go down, demeaned; another is raised up.)
-Carmina Burana, "Fortune Plango Vulnera"
"Sors immanis et inanis, rota tu volubilis, status malus, vana salus semper dissolubilis." (Fate--monstrous and empty, you whirling wheel, you are malevolent, well being is vain and always fades to nothing.)
-Carmina Burana, "Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi"
“Fortune is like the market, where many times, if you can stay a little, the price will fall.”
-Francis Bacon
ONE
[Note from Editors: This chapter is very incomplete as there is a dreadful, at least in our opinion, (as researchers, we like primary sources as it resolves so many problems) lack of primary sources from Mr. King as well as MCRGES. We, as researchers as well as historians, prefer primary sources from the main characters involved in the events being described in writing. First, and most obviously, these are the words coming straight from the people involved. You can’t get a better source than the people involved. With such primary sources, one gets the full scope of the story. The personal details and decisions that influenced their course of action. Second, by having primary sources, you solve the problems generally associated with secondary sources. Well, these are obvious like claims of reckless research, a problem that exists today. Or your critics claim you are inserting your personal thoughts about a situation instead of what the person involved thought about such an event. There are many other reasons why we researchers prefer primary sources, but listing them all would be such a horrible bore and take away from the continuity of this work.
Instead of primary sources from Mr. King and the research agents associated with MCRGES, this chapter will focus on secondary sources not generally involved with this experiment. These secondary sources may prove to be as entertaining as the primary sources.]
Article Written by David King for Unofficial Law School Newsletter
[Note from Editors: This article was printed in the law school’s unofficial law school newsletter, produced and written by law school students. The newsletter, called the Broken Law Journal, comes once every month during the school year, except when law school classes are not in session like January, May, June, July, and December. Well, those times and when major problem occurs like computers breaking down. This event occurred when the Editor-in-Chief, whose name will not be named, while drunk, hit his laptop with his hand, knocked it down onto the floor. The laptop was quickly fixed, but more problems occurred. The copying machine broke down and then the Editor-in-Chief got sick with the flu, and then more calamities befell the staff of the Broken Law Journal. The February issue was finally published in the middle of April along with the March issue.
The publication gained notoriety when it published a story. This story was about the personal lives of certain law school staff members, again, names will not be published in this book. If you would like to know, then you can find out by seeing past issues, available online.
This article was published in the November 2004 issue of the Broken Law Journal along with other articles, none of them were very interesting or funny. Apparently, Mr. King was a regular feature writer to the Broken Law Journal, only because he made the publication worth reading. It was a good publication, but his articles made the publication much more entertaining.]
Law school students discover after a few weeks in class, the course isn't remotely like the course description in the law school catalog. Law school catalogues are notorious for making any law school class, no matter how amazingly boring they are, seem like the most amazing and exciting class in the history of the world. They really aren’t that exciting. Some extremely perceptive students discover this in the first few minutes on the first day (You know who you are). First year students find out the hard way. With little knowledge of the workings of law school, they enter their classes with high expectations, and enter Winter Break (Christmas Break for those who aren’t fond of political correctness) wondering why any of these courses exists. The next semester, the process begins anew, but with much lower expectations. Which brings us to the following, course descriptions of 1L First Semester courses.
LAW 104 Civil Procedure I (3.0). Fall Semester. During the first semester of Civil Procedure, the course will cover all major phases of civil actions from discovery to post-trial motions. Jurisdiction matters are much too complex to be covered in the first semester of your first year of law school. Most of the semester will involve understanding the poorly written Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. This document vexes professional attorneys and is a living nightmare for law students. The FRCP is written in English, despite assertions they are not written in English. One could conclude the writers did not do well in Legal Writing I (see below). Both LAW 104 and LAW 105 are required. LEC
LAW 109 Contracts I (3.0). Fall Semester. During the first semester of Contracts, the course will cover the formation process, what are offer and acceptance, contracts without consideration, contract remedies, breach, statute of fraud, and illegal contracts. This will involve reading parts of the UCC and the Restatements on Contracts. The Restatement of Contracts is not binding, but is a supplement to case law. Interestingly enough, you will learn this all over again next semester, just with the UCC. It's not any better, as the UCC is vague. So much for objectiveness and simplifying the subject. Both LAW 109 and LAW 110 are required. LEC
LAW 120 Legal Writing I (3.0) Fall Semester. This is an introduction to the foundations of the legal system: research and writing legal memos. One learns about the importance of correct spelling, grammar, word choice, and citing. The smart lawyers hire secretaries and paralegals to do this work for them. It culminates with writing an open memo that probably will relate with nothing you will do in real life. Both LAW 120 and LAW 121 are required. Yes, there is another Legal Writing class. LEC
LAW 126 Property I (3.0) Fall Semester. This is an introduction to personal property and real property law. Despite learning a ton of complex rules and multiple-nested exceptions and exceptions to exceptions, it boils down to one rule: you own it or some other person owns it. If you remember anything at all, it will be the Rule Against Perpetuities. Everyone dreads it and hates it. One begins to wonder why anyone wants to bother with this stuff. Both LAW 126 and LAW 127 are required. Required course. LEC
LAW 131 Torts I (3.0) Fall Semester. You will learn about multiple intentional torts including, but not limited to battery, assault, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. The defenses to torts will be covered. Negligence will be covered, including standard of cause, defenses, and strict liability. You will learn many rules, exceptions, and exceptions to exceptions. Most are extremely old and not used anymore, but you will have to learn them. No matter what they teach you, the magic answer is reasonable amount of care. What this means depends on the tort. Good luck figuring this out. You might consider this course a severe and intentional infliction of severe emotional distress. Required course. LEC

TWO
Entry From Urban Underground Exploration Website
For the constant visitors of this website, you all know how much we enjoy exploring the tunnel systems that run underneath the city of [CITY NAME REMOVED]. River Runner, our avid tunnel explorer and rabid whitewater rafter, used to live in New York City. He spent many years running his way through the subway tunnels, the sewer tunnels, and every other tunnel in the Big Apple. Our multicultural and multilingual world explorer, our veritable Globetrotter, has seen tunnel systems in Europe, Asia, and Australia. While living in Germany (his father was a Sergeant in the US Army, so Globetrotter has been around the world), he and his family spent time in Paris. Globetrotter’s family, apparently, knew a nice couple in Paris (Army buddies, so it seems). While the people in Paris were off exploring Europe, Globetrotter’s family would take care of the apartment. Lucky guy.
While in Paris, Globetrotter would explore the infamous catacombs of Paris. He would diligently map the system, covering every inch (OK, to be metrically inclined, centimeter) of the vast underground system. And he would spend time exploring and mapping the nearby underground quarries for fun. Boy, does this guy like the underground world. When we discovered the Mega Maze [Note from Editors: This is the same tunnel system that David King writes about in his journal. At last estimate, there were close to a hundred people roaming through the tunnels, solely based upon admissions. This number does not count the unknown number that roam the tunnels, but do not admit this.], Globetrotter was the first to map out the place. He covered every inch of the place in great detail. He is an urban underground snob, as he has explored tunnels everywhere in the globe. So it is an honor when he says, “This place is much better than the Paris catacombs!” This is, of course, in terms of the varying architectural styles, building materials, and the sheer length and complexity. In terms of history, however, the Paris catacombs easily beat the Mega Maze. Hey, this is America and tunnel building didn’t rank so high in importance. Besides, Europe had at least four hundred years for a head start.
As the webmaster of this site, I digress quite a bit. Sorry about that. It’s part of my personality. So, what was the point of all of this excess verbiage about how we all love exploring underground tunnels, especially the ones in this city? Read on and you will find out.
So, last week, the Tunnel Force squad decided to go down into the tunnels. In particular, we wanted to explore the northern section of the Mega Maze located near the Cedar Hills North Industrial Area. There is no better place to explore the Mega Maze than by the Cedar River. You’ve got all of the elements that make tunnel exploration great. You’ve got crazy and possibly violent homeless people, dark and damp tunnels, lots of dirt, twisty passages, and multiple opportunities to do potentially criminal activities and not get caught. After all, despite this being considered trespassing, it really isn’t illegal unless you get caught by the police. (This is with many fake apologies to The F-Bomb, who is currently studying law, many hundreds if not thousands of miles away. He is becoming more and more aware of how illegal his past activities were and well, he tries to keep his legal mind turned off while listening to stories. “What the…you know you’re describing trespassing right now? And that was…let me see…breaking and entering!” We still love him, despite his new found acumen for the law.) We haven’t been caught by the police and we intend to keep our record that way. Doctor Bones, the medical school student in our group, has come with a diagnosis for our condition: copallergicus persistens, or the chronic allergy to law enforcement officers.
When we arrived at the Cedar River Bridge—the Concrete Stick Over the Little Muddy—we noticed some odd things. Well, not odd things, but bad signs. The normally open area around the bridge free of fences and other security measures was changed. A fence—a tall chain link fence—magically appeared after our last sojourn here. This was not a big problem. The fence guys didn’t secure it very well: no padlocks, but a plastic handcuff thingie. What the…fence without a padlock. Once we got past the fence, we discovered a new surprise. The door, once a cheap metal affair with an easily picked lock, was replaced with a much heavier metal door and a tougher lock to pick. And there was the nice surprises inside the structure.
There was a good thing made inside. No homeless people. I guess the tougher locks made it harder for the homeless to get in. Thank God for that. There’s nothing worse for the urban explorer than angry and cold homeless people inside the tunnels you are trying to explore during the middle of the night. You know, there is nothing wrong about the homeless, it’s a sad situation. But, they can be territorial and they can easily get dangerous. These loud encounters can lead to the police dropping by. Not a good thing, especially for people with our medical condition.
And the place was absolutely spotless. No wet concrete. No dust floating in the air. No dirt and mud. No unusual substances on the floor like urine, slime and sludge, and Lord knows what. Absolutely clean and smooth walls made out of a strange substance.
OK, this was getting weird. Then there was the odd feeling one got while inside the place. This feeling of “something is wrong here.” I was feeling the hair crawl on the back on my neck, despite the place being clean and well-lit. Strange man, strange.
One final thing. I have never seen so many alarms there. Motion sensors, heat sensors, sound detectors, everything. We decided to abort the mission ten seconds after getting inside the bridge. It was not a good night for exploration.
We took our exploration-seeking mode to a different part of the tunnels. One far away from the Cedar River Bridge. Which is a shame, since we love that place. But still, you’ve got to admit, given the new changes made, going there would not be very wise. That’s for real and that’s a fact.
Happy exploring, but stay away from Cedar River Bridge. Unless you want to get tossed into jail and that definitely is not a good thing.
COMMENTS
Name: F-Bomb
Website: [WEBSITE ADDRESS DELETED]
E-Mail Address: [E-MAIL ADDRESS DELETED]
As the legendary F-Bomb might say, Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Yankee October Uniform. Hey, I’m still an urban explorer, though I try to keep the illegal activities to a minimum, like zero. I don’t want to get disbarred before I pass the bar. There’s a nice crew of underground explorers down here. I won’t say if I go with them…hint, hint. But seriously, this change in River Five Points is a sad and very strange development.
I’ll be in town soon. Tell me some stories over a beer at Shooters.
Name: Hannibal
Website: [WEBSITE ADDRESS DELETED]
E-Mail Address: [E-MAIL ADDRESS DELETED]
Welcome back F-Bomb. Nice to hear from you. You know that when we make fun of you, it is all in good, clean fun. I’ll see you at Shooters.
Name: Anonymous Worker
Website: [NONE LISTED]
E-Mail Address: [NONE LISTED]
I work for the city’s Public Works Department and I’ve heard about the tunnels underneath River Five Points. The people that work down in the tunnels have a whole lot of strange stories about that area. All of them are just as strange.
Like my friend who works fixing the water pipes that break during the year. He had to fix the water main that runs through the Cedar River Bridge. After fixing the water pipe, he decided that he would never—I mean never—go work near the Cedar River Bridge. He’s worked in the Public Works Department for nearly twenty years. Survived a whole lot of stuff like gas leaks, fires, near-collapses, everything. He goes to fix a water pipe and he freaks out. Something had to happen. I don’t know what happened, but he doesn’t say much about this. All he says is that he had this bad feeling, a feeling of fear and paranoia. He can’t say much more that that. Too bad it happened to him.
And another veteran of the Public Works Department. Worked there for fifteen years. He was rerouting electrical wire through the Cedar River Bridge for a local company. He gets this strange feeling while in River Five Points. Same feeling as the guy I mentioned earlier. Quits when he comes back to the Public Works Department. Absolutely crazy. Quits after rerouting wire. Never happened before.
We have another story, but a final story. I think that I want to end this now since three stories might be enough to give a good idea of how strange River Five Points has become. I used to work in an electronic security company. This company sells security devices like thermal detectors, motion sensors, and some other devices that others have not seen. The major clients for these devices are Fortune 500 companies and secure facilities like advanced research places. Some government stuff also. Serious stuff.
I was helping a local company near River Five Points. I was responsible for locating any hidden electrical wires and such. They were going to install some security devices. All legal, given that they got special permits from the city in a day, instead of the normal six-months. Don’t know how this company managed to do this. I won’t name the local company’s name, but you probably can find out yourself if you do some research at the county courthouse. Enough said.
This may sound crazy, but this local company had better stuff than my old place of employment. Better than the government. Their security devices were smooth, tiny metal things. As big and as thin as a credit card, maybe a little thicker. A spray of stuff on the back and they could attach it to any surface. Crazy things. An index finger swept over the front and the thing turns on.
And when they turned it on, it was freaky. I felt this weird feeling. Hair raising on the back of my neck. Sweaty palms. The works. I left soon after.
Never going to River Five Points again. Staying far away.
Name: MegaMole
Website: [NONE LISTED]
E-Mail: [E-MAIL ADDRESS DELETED]
Strange. Definitely strange. That’s all I can say about this.

THREE
Story from College Newspaper
February 10, 2005
“Alex in Tunnel Land: Exploring the University Steam Tunnels”
By: Alex Josephson
Twice an hour, students hear the loud and eardrum-rattling blast of the University Power Plant steam whistle, affectionately called “The Lecture Ender.” Classes at the University end at twenty-past the hour or ten-before the hour. The whistle surprises professors that tend to speak longer. After several years of listening to the whistle, many professors learn to end their lectures a minute early, knowing that students will pack their bags once they hear the whistle.
But what fuels the whistle? What produces the steam that powers the Pavlovian blast? How does the University manage to keep the classrooms warm during the notoriously frigid winter months? This is what my story is all about. The mechanisms that fuel the University: the steam tunnels.
Underneath your feet while you walk around campus are the University Steam Tunnels. This name is not totally accurate, as the steam tunnels carry just more than steam. In addition to steam pipes, the steam tunnels contain water pipes, electrical wire, gas pipes, fiber-optic cables, and other assorted wires and pipes that help run the university.
Maintenance crews use these tunnels to travel from building to building, gaining easy access when the roads don’t allow trucks and cars to pass. Sometimes, the repair work requires staying underground and not above the ground. It’s impossible to repair a break in the water pipe if the break occurs underneath the sidewalk without damaging the sidewalk. By using the steam tunnels, the repair work can be done without damaging anything above ground.
I asked the Power Plant people and the University for permission to explore the steam tunnels. After a week of negotiation, the University reluctantly gave permission. The administration and the maintenance crews talked about the numerous dangers down in the steam tunnels. There was dirty water that could be disease-carrying, the rusty metal, the scalding steam, the unknown number of chemicals, and so forth. After reading the list of dangers down there, one has to wonder why the maintenance crews go down the tunnels every day if they were so dangerous. One has to wonder why the University allows them to go down if they were unsafe. I pointed these questions and the University finally gave permission. I could go explore the tunnels as long as I followed a long list of regulations and I was with a power plant employee at all times. Most of them were safety oriented as to minimize potential injury.
So, on a chilly January night, I patiently waited outside the power plant doors. There was a foot of snow on the ground. I was wearing multiple layers of clothing to keep warm. I had a backpack filled with tools and other tunnel exploring essentials. Finally, the door opened and I was allowed inside the power plant. And I was in for a sudden change in temperature.
Inside, the power plant was sweltering. It was like being inside a sauna, but without the steam. I quickly took off my winter jacket. I also took off my sweater.
My tour guide was Vincent DiCarello, a five-year veteran who spent many late nights inside the steam tunnel. He was a big, burly man, heavily muscled. Vincent was barely sweating despite the intense heat.
“Welcome to the Power Plant. We’re going to being our tour soon, so you might as well get inside this spare uniform. Don’t want to get your clothes dirty. You can change over there.”
After putting on the spare uniform, we set off on a tour of the University steam tunnels.
While walking in the tunnel system, I noticed some grafitti on the walls. One particularly common scrawl said “The Tunnel Rats.” I asked Vincent about this and he mentioned that many people illegally come down here to explore the tunnels. “It’s pretty common and it happens all the time. When I was in college, I used to do that, before it became a frowned-upon activity.”
Really. I ask him some more questions. “Yeah, I did it while a student at the University of Minnesota. They had a massive tunnel system. I also did some exploration in the Minneapolis/Saint Paul city tunnels. That was a great tunnel system. All those twists and turns. Now I bust people exploring the steam tunnel system. It’s a dangerous place down here and I don’t want people to get hurt.”
“We’re now coming to the Bridge over Troubled Water. It’s a giant walkway underneath Starkman Library. You’ll get the reference once we get there.”
I notice the bridge. It’s a massive bridge made of steel over a massive gap. In the gap is greenish water. “What’s up with the gap?”
“I’m not sure about the gap. I’ve heard that the library was placed on a bad foundation and the builders had to rebuild it by removing the old concrete. Why they left the giant gap, I’m not sure. But it’s pretty cool to have a bridge down here.”
The rest of the tour is pretty interesting. We walk for a while and we end up underneath Vanachek Basketball Arena, home of the basketball team and a shrine for the rabid university basketball fans. We also walk underneath the football stadium. I can see the structures supporting the stadium and the underground watering system for the field itself.
When we arrive above ground two hours later, my feet are tired. My uniform is dirty, covered and caked with sweat and dirt and some other stuff I don’t know. I leave tired, but excited. The university steam tunnels are a dirty and dangerous system, but very exciting. It’s a giant maze that offers many surprises, but with a certain amount of risk. Would I recommend people to explore the steam tunnel system? No. The thrills don’t outweigh the potential consequences. But if you are thinking about it, don’t actually do it.

FOUR
Memo to MCRGES from Local Headquarters, Security Department, February 13, 2005 (Earth Time)
To: Head of MCRGES
From: Head of Security Department, Local Headquarters
The changes we have made to the security system have proven to be highly effective. Since we have installed the new security measures, we have reduced the amount of intrusions into LHQUT2, C4-Subgrid D3, Delta Point One from three every week to just one every month. The modified ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machine has proven to be extremely effective. Subjects who come within a fifty feet radius of the ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machine feel intense feeling of fear and paranoia, just the effect that we were hoping for. [Note from Editors: The ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machine is very effective for things of this nature.]
This, however, has come with a possibly negative effect. One that, if my guesses are correct, may prove to be a serious problem in the future. Given the extremely positive results—that is, the reduced security intrusions into Delta Point One—the Delta Point One area has received a reputation for being a scary and eerie place, one that people should avoid. This is a good thing if one is trying to portray an image of high-security. There is nothing wrong with that. The image Delta Point One is receiving, however, may prove to be negative. It has become so negative, that people are talking about the area on the Internet and at the city Public Works Department. [Note from Editors: The head of the Security Department for the Local Headquarters is very perceptive. He also seems to be a no-nonsense type of Itanimulli who does what needs to be done. Why he failed to recognize this problem occurring earlier is beyond our level of comprehension.] See the following excerpts for examples:

The normally open area around the bridge free of fences and other security
measures was changed. A fence—a tall chain link fence—magically appeared
after our last sojourn here. This was not a big problem. The fence
guys didn’t secure it very well: no padlocks, but a plastic handcuff
thingie. What the…fence without a padlock. Once we got past the
fence, we discovered a new surprise. The door, once a cheap metal affair
with an easily picked lock, was replaced with a much heavier metal door and a
tougher lock to pick.
And the place was absolutely spotless. No wet
concrete. No dust floating in the air. No dirt and mud. No
unusual substances on the floor like urine, slime and sludge, and Lord knows
what. Absolutely clean and smooth walls made out of a strange
substance.
OK, this was getting weird. Then there was the odd feeling
one got while inside the place. This feeling of “something is wrong
here.” I was feeling the hair crawl on the back on my neck, despite the
place being clean and well-lit.
One final thing. I have never seen so
many alarms there. Motion sensors, heat sensors, sound detectors,
everything. We decided to abort the mission ten seconds after getting
inside the bridge. It was not a good night for exploration.
He goes to
fix a water pipe and he freaks out. Something had to happen. I don’t
know what happened, but he doesn’t say much about this. All he says is
that he had this bad feeling, a feeling of fear and paranoia. He can’t say
much more that that. Too bad it happened to him.
Their security devices
were smooth, tiny metal things. As big and as thin as a credit card, maybe
a little thicker. A spray of stuff on the back and they could attach it to
any surface. Crazy things. An index finger swept over the front and
the thing turns on.

This is just a small sampling from just one website. Already, they are surmising that River Five Points is a scary place and that a company there is responsible for the sudden and eerie changes. If this continues, this may cause serious problems later. There might be unforseen and possibly dangerous consequences for this experiment, like the humans causing troubles. I have heard that the earth custom of litigation can be very painful for both parties involved. [Note from Editors: How true this statement is. Litigation is a terrible event to go through even today. Some might argue that the Golden Age of litigation in the late 20th and early 21st century were much worse, much, much worse. This era was called the Golden Age of litigation because litigation was a gold mine. People making thousands, if not millions of dollars from winning lawsuits over hot coffee, fast food making people fat, and other crazy topics that today, we find frivolous. Then again, people in this more enlightened age still sue over frivolous topics. Just different than hot coffee and fast food making people fat. For aliens, they are very in tune with Earth customs that we consider an everyday part of life.]
I suggest that the security measures be taken down a level. Of course, security is important, but at the expense of causing more problems later, security is a minor thing. I believe that the ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machines be set at a lower security level. Not intense paranoia, but a little less. I also suggest that we use some more standard security devices—i.e. Earth-level technology. We should keep the more powerful Itanimullian devices for the main headquarters.
By keeping the security at a more reasonable level, I think that this will be more of a positive than the current security situation. By using the lessened level of security, we can keep the local headquarters safe from intrusion while maintaining a good relationship with the Earth community. Having the humans discover our secrets would not be positive for us. [Note from Editors: These recommendations are very rational and well-thought out. He should be commended for quickly taking action and doing what is practical.]

FIVE
Memo to MCRGES from Local Headquarters, Security Department, February 19, 2005 (Earth Time)
To: Head of MCRGES
From: Head of Security Department, Local Headquarters
Commander Smerlon of MCRGES—
I know that you are extremely busy with your schedule, but this situation is quite urgent and it needs your expert answer that only you can provide. I need your answer now.
I sent my report to you a week ago. I need a response as soon as possible. The level of scrutiny on Earth is increasing much more rapidly than the computers predicted. Humans are a decidedly unpredictable lot unlike Itanimullians. There may be an investigation of the Delta Point One area and the unusual activities happening there. In addition, the City Council may investigate how our Earth shell company received such favorable treatment. This is not a laughing matter.

Memo to MCRGES from Local Headquarters, Security Department, February 27, 2005 (Earth Time)
To: Head of MCRGES
From: Head of Security Department, Local Headquarters
Commander Smerlon of MCRGES—
The situation on Earth has become extremely urgent. The City Council is leaning towards investigating our activities. This is not a laughing matter. Because I have not received any messages, let alone a response from you or your second-in-command, I have decided to take action by myself.
I have reduced the level of security to a more reasonable level. I have also taken action to modify the viewpoints of the City Council. This action was necessary. I believe that these actions will lead to a positive result and prevent the humans from meddling in our activities.

Memo to MCRGES from Local Headquarters, Security Department, March 15, 2005 (Earth Time)
To: Head of MCRGES
From: Head of Security Department, Local Headquarters
Commander Smerlon of MCRGES—
I am reporting some good news for once about the current situation on Earth. The actions I have taken have resulted in positive results.
One, the City Council, after some persuasion, decided not to investigate our activities. That is a good thing for us. They will not meddle with our activities.
Two, and more importantly, the excursions into River Five Points have stayed at low levels—once a month. The people who do infiltrate our security zone are homeless and therefore, not all that important, even to Earth standards. They have no information of value.

Memo to Local Headquarters, Security Department from MCRGES, March 19, 2005 (Earth Time)
To: Head of Security Department, Local Headquarters
From: Head of MCRGES
Sorry about the delay. Things are so busy around here that it is nearly impossible to respond quickly to any matters. [Note from Editors: We checked his records and apparently, during this time period, he was on vacation. So we guess that by “being busy,” he refers to “busy ignoring matters of actual importance.” Once you think about it, aliens are not so different from humans.] You have shown great initiative in doing important work and making great decisions. This is a quality I admire in subordinates. You might make for an excellent leader.
Good job. You get a raise for your excellent work. That is all.

CHAPTER EIGHT: SOMEBODY’S WATCHING ME
“Satellite headlines read
Someone’s secret you’ve seen
Eyes and ears have been
Satellite dish in my yard
Tell me more, tell me more
Who’s the king of your satellite castle?”
-Dave Matthews Band, “Satellite”
“The dearest things in the world are our neighbor’s eyes; they cost everybody more than anything else in housekeeping.”
-Sydney Smith
“People stare and we just ignore
What’s the use in hiding out
She says all the time
Let their eyes do the worrying about”
-Dave Matthews Band, “Recently”
ONE
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 11/01/04]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 10:29:02AM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 07:16:09AM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTER PASSCODE: QdePo9#vm0PiC$LcBeqwsA6oUyWxh5HntY8u3DFjlb61PV#&y1DxQiUYVbn9mBvCeRu
5OO8kHcM49uRVyPL1%Kbm3IxVbwp]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE: cQ7LhG5%1DXv3Z0IkeM@9YpJdOi9#7fSZv6py!cb2Nr]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
07:16:11 AM 03/19/05
You know, I haven’t been writing in this journal for a long time. Yes, it’s been a really long time. Using the word “really” isn’t the best word to use, as it is not that descriptive. Everyone, including the most famous writers to weekend-hacks with very little talent use the word “really” to describe anything that means “big” or “a lot” or anything they feel it should mean. Very vague. Yes, I am guilty of using “really” a lot while writing. Then again, writing antiseptically has never been my style. I like to use “really,” but not in heavy doses. So there.
I’ve checked my records and apparently, it’s been nearly four months since I last wrote in this journal. Personally, for me, since I am pretty regular in writing at least one sentence down every day, going four months without writing anything is as close to eternity as possible.
Why this lack of writing? I’ve been busy, pretty busy doing other things.
Yes, I am keeping aware of They, those who might be associated with them, and lurking and waiting. Yes, I am making sure I won’t get attacked from the rear or the front or the flanks. There is no way They are going to fool me or trick me. Not likely. I am going to win.
Law school is going fine. Actually, it’s going surprisingly well despite my lack of wanting to go there. The classes aren’t any different. They’re boring, pretty much non-redeeming in any manner. Sure, I have a disgustingly high GPA right now, but I’m not sure if it is due to what They are doing, or if it is due to my natural abilities. It is hard to come to any real conclusion given the lack of empirical evidence.
Law school is more tolerable since I might have a reason to go there. I’m seeing someone right now. I can’t say that I am dating this person, but one could consider it dating, I guess. Eva (actual name is Evangeline) is a friendly girl, attractive, smart, a sense of humor, lots of patience and tolerance. She is ideal for me. You have to be someone very special to deal with the strange quirks I have. Yes, it is part of the packaged deal. Most will say that the packaged deal is not worth the costs, and that it might be better if some of the quirks were removed. Well, you can’t change it. As my Contracts II professor might say, “This is a case of caveat emptor, or translated from Latin, buyer beware. Or, if you prefer, this is an as-is deal and what you get, is what you get.”
Man, it seems so funny when you think about it. Here I am, a not-so-average guy with a definitely not so average, shall I say it, girlfriend. And not so average means pretty damn hot when it comes to women. Me, on the other hand, it just means pretty damn weird.
I’m not really sure, also, how to describe how I feel right now about this relationship. One could say that Mozart, in his opera Le Nozze Di Figaro, Cherubino sings the following aria in Act I, Scene 6:
Non so piu cosa son, cosa faccio,
or di foco, ora sona di ghiaccio,
ogni donna cangiar di colore,
ogni donna mi fa palpitar.
Solo ai nomi d'amor, di diletto,
mi si turba, si s'altera il petto,
e a parlare mi sforza d'amore
un desio ch'io non posso spegiar.
When translated, Cherubino’s aria reads as such:
I don't know what I am, what I'm doing;
first I seem to be burning, then freezing;
every woman makes me change color,
every woman I see makes me shake.
Just the words "love" and "pleasure"
bring confusion; my breast swells in terror,
yet I am compelled to speak of love
by a force which I cannot explain.

It’s a nice feeling. But I sometimes wonder. You know, once you get the feeling that some shadowy force is using you in an experiment, you begin to wonder about everything. You wonder if the person you meet is who they claim to be. Even now, with something going well, I have to wonder if there is something wrong hidden underneath the good stuff.
With apologies to Massive Attack, their song “Angel” probably misunderstood:
You are my angel
Come from way above
To bring me love
Her eyes
She's on the dark side
Neutralize
Every man in sight
Love you, love you, love you, love you...
You are my angel
Come from way above
Love you, love you, love you, love you...

For all I know, she could be a part of Their scheme, one of Them…a They. By accepting her into my life, although her role is kind of limited, I could be bringing trouble into my life. I might be keeping my enemy closer, as the maxim states: “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” This could end up badly, with me like the narrator of this song by Claudio Montiverdi’s madrigal, A Un Giro Sol (At a Single Glance):
A un giro sol de'bell'occhi lucenti,
Ride l'aria d'intorno
E'l mar s'acqueta e i venti
E si fa il ciel d'un altro lume adorno;
Sol io le luci ho lagrimose e meste.
Certo quando nasceste,
Cosi crudel e ria,
Nacque la morte mia.
At a single turning glance from those bright eyes
the breeze laughs all about,
the sea becomes calm, then the wind dies away
and the sky becomes more radiant.
I alone am sad and weeping.
Doubtless on the day you were born,
so cruel and wicked,
my death was also born.

I hope not. I have to accept this possibility without fear. I can either hide and run or I can fully accept this and let the consequences come as they may. This should turn out to be an interesting experience. Let Them figure this one out. Ah, the possibilities are endless.
Why do I say this and possibly sound heartless or even manipulative in a secretive way? I know that They are watching. Their eyes are everywhere. It’s a given. How else are They going to do all the fancy tests and computer models without watching every step I do? They just can’t make up numbers and events and hope to get an accurate result? [Note from Editors: This statement would be true for most occasions, but aliens can be like humans. If the possibility or need arrives that “fudging figures” becomes necessary for some reasons, then aliens will do so. Another way that shows that aliens and humans are not so different after all.]
That’s all for now.

Memo to Technical Resources Department from Surveillance Department, March 20, 2005 (Earth Time)
To: Chief of Technical Resources Department
From: Chief of Surveillance Department
The Surveillance Department has a pressing need that the Technical Resources Department can solve, or at least, I believe, can solve.
Our surveillance crews, it seems, has problems keeping up with Mr. King, the test subject. Apparently, while following Mr. King on foot, Mr. King has the ability to lose his trails. We have tried various chemical and technical means, but we cannot keep up with him long enough to place these tracking devices on him. He is extremely skilled at evasion. [Note from Editors: When we first read this document, we were very puzzled by this. How can a civilization that is so obviously advanced technologically be so inept at simple, low-tech tracking methods? With all of their technological resources, they should be able to easily place tracking devices on Mr. King. They could have used other means. After some thought and some additional research, we were able to come up with a plausible explanation of some sort. By using such advanced means, it would seem likely that Mr. King, let alone anyone else, would recognize them as being different. He would have noticed something different about his clothing or his means of transportation. By using a low-tech means, one that they are not so accustomed to, they would blend in much better with the locals. Then again, this does not explain why Mr. King was so adept at noticing and evading his surveillance tails. Mr. King mentions how he knew he was followed, but it does not explain why the Itanilmulli, with all of their resources, could not evade detection. After all, one can easily find this information on the Internet. If any of the readers know how this could happen, please send us an explanation. We will gladly accept any explanations given. If we come across with any plausible theories, we will give credit in future editions of this book.]
When following him by car (so cumbersome when compared to the Itanimulli teleport machines), he is even more skilled. Our drivers on the surveillance team were impressed by his skills, as he managed to elude every team long enough to get away.
We at the Surveillance Department were wondering if there are any possible solutions that you can come up with.

Memo to Surveillance Department from Technical Resources Department, March 20, 2005 (Earth Time)
To: Chief of Surveillance Department
From: Chief of Technical Resources Department
We have received your memo and the Technical Resources Department has come up with a simple solution to your problem.
This answer is very simple, but it will require a considerable amount of funds. That is, the solution, although simple, will cost quite a bit of money. These are funds that will have to come directly from the head of MCRGES as an emergency fund.
The Tech Resources Department, as you may know, is sorely limited in funds, whereas the Surveillance Department, however, has near-unlimited funds in next year’s budget.
I think that we can come up with a mutually agreeable solution. We will give support for appropriating funds for sending surveillance agents to a driving school and for special projects of an unspecified nature that fits your goals like improved technology in the chase cars. An Earth car with Itanimulli technology would be nice, wouldn’t it? In exchange for this, you will give some of your budgeted funds to the Tech Resources Department. It would be such a shame for the Surveillance Department to look foolish in front of MCRGES. [Note from Editors: This is an excellent example of the quaint Earth custom of in-fighting office politics and using someone else’s problem for your gain.]

TWO
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 03/19/05]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 07:16:11AM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 02:58:32PM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTER PASSCODE:
QdePo9#vm0PiC$LcBeqwsA6oUyWxh5HntY8u3DFjlb61PV#&y1DxQiUYVbn9m
BvCeRu5OO8kHcM49uRVyPL1%Kbm3IxVbwp]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE: cQ7LhG5%1DXv3Z0IkeM@9YpJdOi9#7fSZv6py!cb2Nr]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
02:58:35 AM 04/09/05
I’ve had an interesting time this past couple weeks. There’s nothing like beating the surveillance crews that They have sent to follow me. The surveillance crews were better trained, but I still can whip them better than a Cordon Bleu-trained chef given a whisk and a copper bowl full of egg whites. I’m thinking they went to a qualified and professional driving school or they decided to go to one of the many schools you can find advertising on the Internet. Some of them are bad and some, amazingly, are good. Personally, I would go to a school with history.
I’m not sure why they still stink at surveillance. I have no personal experience like secret agents or police officers or anyone else with training. I just used common sense and I also read a few dozen books and articles on what to do and what not to do. And I put a lot of what I read into my personal life. I tried out what I learned and saw what worked and what did not work. Double-backs and U-turns are good. Weaving in and out of traffic is good. Ducking and covering into busy stores is good. Having several changes of clothing is good. There are a lot of simple techniques that, when well used, can make life hell for surveillance people. And boy, did They get a lesson.
The first time, I was driving to the Maple Park Shopping Center. One of the bookstores there, T.D. Coulton, was selling a book about samurai history that I wanted. In addition, they also had a book about military weaponry. One of the topics that I am fascinated by is the Japanese samurai. Another topic I have some interest about is military weaponry and how it has evolved over the years.
I noticed that while driving east on Mission Street, going past the local Super Walmart (with another monstrosity coming along the way assuming the city council allows it), that two cars were tailing me. I should know since I had read about this topic earlier. Besides, I could tell since the two cars always made the same moves that I made. Time to shake them off like a hound shaking off ticks.
The first car was the easiest to shake off. I approached the intersection of Mission Street and 29th Street. The light was yellow and about to turn red. I slowed my car down (an unassuming Honda but with a more powerful engine than normal) almost to a stop and then I gunned it across the intersection. They could only wait and watch me go down 29th Street.
Somehow, the first car managed to track me down somehow. These people were good. Much better than they normally were. I guess that my first evasive move was not enough. So I decided to pull off some more fancy stuff. Despite being well-trained, they made an amateur mistake. You know what, you should never look obvious while following someone. Time to go fancy. Something fun.
Ah…look at this. Just one or two streets up, the only place in the city where you can make a legal U-turn into the other direction. And my timing was perfect. Just at that moment, it seemed like every single car in the city was traveling down 29th Street. I racked my brain for an explanation and I realized that there was a basketball game and it just ended five minutes ago. Perfect. There are times when gridlock is a good thing. I approached the U-turn zone and waited. The wave of traffic coming down the westbound lane of 29th Street was coming at a steady pace. There was at least a quarter-mile of cars. Angry drivers honking horns, trying to get past the gridlock. Perfect. Just perfect.
There was a long line of cars coming. Just one or two more seconds until this move would work. I could see the face of the first driver coming my direction. I pretended to wait. Then I slammed my foot on the accelerator and turned the steering wheel. Remember, if you pull someone by the hair, the rest of the body will follow.
You’ve got to love a plan that works so well. I was riding the crest of traffic going west. A long line of cars going west. The trackers couldn’t go follow me for a while. The trackers couldn’t reverse or go forward without problems. Doom on you, trackers.
The second incident, and one that I pride myself on, was the foot surveillance team. Again, there are times when a mass of humanity can be a good thing. Crowded places are a great place to lose people following you.
If you are being followed, it is a good thing to wear layers. If that is not possible, it is always a good idea to have a change of clothing or to be near a clothes store. That way, if you need to change your clothing, you can easily change them. If you do decide to change your clothing, make sure you change your shoes as well. Or at least have a hat. The shoes can make or break a surveillance team. Israeli Mossad agents got recognized since they wore suits with tennis shoes. Instantly spotted.
I was waiting outside the Maple Park Shopping Center and I notice the surveillance. Guess what? The team was wearing suits, perfectly normal, but the shoes were tennis shoes. Not just any tennis shoes, but Nike running shoes. Someone wants to do some chasing, aren’t they? Doom on them. They just aren’t going to get me. Oh no, not this day.
I’ve got a good amount of cover since the Maple Park Shopping Center is doing their semi-annual clearance sale, commonly called “Super Spring Cleaning.” It is, quite literally, a massive, seething swarm of humanity. I make it past the surveillance team. Thank you, consumer horde.
I decide to head towards a men’s clothing store. I need to buy a change of clothing any ways. I’ve got to look nice for the girlfriend. I buy a new pair of pants, a new T-shirt, a pair of sunglasses, and a hat. I stop by a sports equipment store and I buy a pair of running shoes and a windbreaker jacket. Perfectly bland looking clothing. I fit in with everyone else.
This time, the damn surveillance crew is finally in there. I am wearing a collared button-up shirt, a pair of black slacks, and a pair of brown Oxford shoes. Now I have a pair of blue jeans, a forest green polo shirt, a pair of sunglasses, and a Chicago White Sox baseball cap. Plus a jacket and new shoes to throw them off even more.
I notice that the surveillance crew has spotted me. Now it is time to use the crowds against them. It’s shoulder to shoulder crowds. There is no way they can get to me without pissing a few people off. I know what they look like. I can evade them. I know that they are going to mess up sooner or later. I make it to a bathroom and I make a quick change. There is nothing like nearby bathrooms to make changes. Now I look like a different person. I can make my way around here without them noticing me too much.
I make my way around the mall, going left and right, making sure there is a large crowd separating me from the team. It’s kind of hard to blend in if you are the only people who are wearing suits. Guess what? I get past them easily. They don’t have a damn team searching the outside of the shopping center so I walk to my car and drive off. They lose. Doom on Them.
This is too easy. This is too easy, way too easy. I’m not sure what is up with Them, but They sure are bad. I think I could beat Them again. Come on, whoever you are. I’m going to beat you. This might be a show of hubris, but I don’t care since I have nothing to lose.
That’s all for now.

THREE
Excerpts from Transcript of Local Headquarters Meeting, April 10, 2005 (Earth Time)
Local Headquarters Chief (LHC): This meeting is now starting. Please sit down and please, let’s be calm this time unlike the last meeting we had. Remember, we are all here for one purpose, and that is to make sure that this experiment works correctly until the end.
Technological Resources Department (TRD): Ah yes, the experiment…yes, the experiment. The experiment that seems to be going down further and further down the path to failure. We can’t even keep track of a human who has no training with escape and evasion. A human who seemingly can make perfectly executed evasion techniques. A person who can get through a surveillance screen that is meant to be invisible and not noticed. And yet, we can’t do anything against him. Are we even sure that he is just an ordinary human? Given his talents, he is quite extraordinary.
LHC: Yes, given the description of Mr. King, he is not an ordinary human. But aren’t you the one who supported the training of the Surveillance Department members.
[Note from Editors: The Local Headquarters Chief has the not-so-enviable position of keeping a group of egos who think that the other large-egos involved are total and absolute fools who don’t deserve to be given any kind of power. In addition to being megalomaniacs, the department heads are a bunch of whining, complaining people who really don’t care about anything but themselves. They would stab each other (well, at least proverbially) in the back. Well, with their level of technology, the department heads would use a phased high-power laser gun to shoot each other in the back. Maybe they would stab each other in the back with an Itanimullian charged energy blade. One can understand why the Local Headquarters Chief resorts to passive-aggressive measures to show his displeasure. If he can cut them down to shut them up, this is a good thing in his opinion. Personally, in our honest opinion, one that we rarely give, we would feel the same way. In addition, we would rather do something else than be passive-aggressive.]
TRD: Yes, I did. But I thought the training would be useful. The head of the Surveillance Department thought this would be useful also. Apparently, this extra training from the best in the world was not good enough. Or the surveillance agents did not learn anything. Or something else worse, as in the agents were incompetent. I’ll let the Surveillance Department Chief explain the failure of HIS agents.
[Note from Editors: This is another example of political in-fighting between various departments in the MCRGES Local Headquarters. The Technological Resources Department has a problem with the Surveillance Department over funding levels and importance. Remember, the more useful department will get the highest amount of funds, as well as more power. Despite making some kind of deal with the Surveillance Department (described earlier in this chapter), the Technological Resources Department is making a few jabs at the expense of the Surveillance Department.]
Surveillance Department (SD): The agents under my control ARE competent. And they received the best training and they did learn something of value. Mr. King, however, was much more resourceful than we estimated.
[Note from Editors: This is another attempt at the Technological Resources Department getting a few more jabs at the Surveillance Department.]
*****
PAGE 7
LHC: We’ve heard your rather lengthy explanation of the training your agents received. And we have heard from the agents on what happened. Could you please explain what went wrong?
TRD: That would be a good thing. I’m sure this would be interesting.
Chief Technical Officer, Data Analysis Group (CTODAG): I would like to know what happened as well. This will help in doing data analysis.
[Note from Editors: If you recall earlier in this work, the former Chief Technical Officer, Data Analysis Group was removed from his position. The current CTODAG has some issues with the entire operation and is going to make some waves if possible. Anything to make life hell for everyone.]
SD: We received reports from you and oddly enough, none of these traits were ever mentioned…
[Note from Editor: Another example of sniping by the members.]
CTODAG: Of course, it would have been impossible to predict this without any information from your department. Considering how badly you seem to gather it, we can’t run our programs. I think you failed to mention anything about his reading habits or anything else. That’s a failure on your part.
SD: Yes, that is so. I think this failure is due to a lot of factors.
[Note from Editors: The Itanimulli sure do hate each other a lot. Then again, this is like any other human in a meeting that they would not want to be in. They would fit in very well anywhere in Earth given their behavior, especially in any corporate building. We, as editors of this book, wonder what an uncivil meeting would be like, assuming this is a civil meeting.]
TRD: Are you trying to imply something? That this department is to blame?
LHC: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Let’s be calm and rational. There is a lot of blame to be passed around for this failure. Everyone shares some blame for this failure. We should, however, focus on what went wrong. Please continue.
PAGE EIGHT
SD: There were many factors that were to blame. I think the first problem we had was underestimating Mr. King’s skills in driving. For a person who does not have any training in advanced driving, if you listened to the description of how well he drove, you would see he has a high level of skill. He played the minds of the surveillance teams. He pretended to be a careful driver, but at the red light, he pressed his accelerator and sped at the last second.
The surveillance team somehow managed to catch up with Mr. King. But this is two miles down the road. His analytical skills are to be commended. Mr. King recognized that he was approaching the only place where he could make a legal U-turn, a driving move that is generally illegal. What makes his use of the U-turn so skilled, is that he timed it perfectly. At the moment he made it, there was a long line of cars behind him and a long line of cars coming towards him. When Mr. King made his U-turn, Mr. King made a very fast U-turn into the opposite lane. Our surveillance team could not make a similar move as the line of cars was at least a quarter-mile long. They could not drive forward because of the traffic light and the backup at the next light. They could not reverse due to the cars behind them. He used a gridlock to his best advantage and made the most of the opportunity.
PAGE NINE
LHC: You stated that Mr. King had NO training?
SD: Yes, I did.
LHC: And he managed to pull this maneuver off perfectly as you stated?
SD: Yes.
LHC: Maybe you should have asked Mr. King to train your surveillance team. It would have solved the surveillance problem and it would have solved any problems in data analysis.
[Note from Editors: This is a great use of sarcasm in our opinion. He might have made for a great stand-up comic if he decided to go this path. We might be wrong in thinking that passive-aggressive is the wrong path to use when dealing with a bunch of egomaniacal megalomaniacs.]
(Laughter from the entire group.)
LHC: Ah, please continue with your explanation.
SD: The adventure at the Maple Park Shopping Center was a comedy of errors.
LHC: Shakespeare, I presume. An interesting choice of words.
SD: Correct. It seemed like an apt description.
LHC: Please continue.
SD: We managed to follow Mr. King to the Maple Park Shopping Center. This was an accomplishment for our surveillance team because this was the first time we managed to follow him to any destination.
PAGE TEN
CTODAG: Well, isn’t that an accomplishment. You finally managed to successfully follow a human to a shopping center. And on your…now, what was it…your hundredth try? Two hundred?
[Note from Editors: This is the Chief Technological Officer, Data Analysis Group being a total jerk. We like this personally. Another funny Itanimulli.]
SD: Very funny. Very funny. The shopping center fiasco was badly planned. I didn’t expect Mr. King to use the crowd so efficiently for his purposes. The large number of people made keeping track of Mr. King very hard. All the people blocked most, if not all lines of sight of the surveillance target. He could disappear within the crowd and reappear at the destination he wanted.
How he managed to elude further surveillance is beyond our understanding. It is possible, while hiding in the crowd, decided to go to a few stores to buy several items of clothing. It is also possible, while hiding in the crowd, he decided to use the crowd to make it to an exit. We do not know what happened in the Maple Park Shopping Center. All we know is that Mr. King managed to elude our surveillance.
The surveillance team made a serious mistake, one that allowed Mr. King to drive off without any surveillance on him. The head of the surveillance team had six men under his control. All six kept in a group instead of splitting up. They stayed in a general area. Ideally, three members should have stayed outdoors near the exits, keeping an eye on the parking lot. The other three should have stayed inside the shopping center. An elementary part of surveillance, but one that all of them made. This should have never happened.
PAGE ELEVEN
CTODAG: By any chance, do you know what the surveillance team was wearing on that day?
SD: What does this have to do with anything?
CTODAG: I think it has lots to do with everything. Please answer my question.
SD: They were wearing suits.
CTODAG: Their shoes? What kind of shoes were they wearing?
SD: They were wearing…oh dear. That was their mistake! I told them not to wear those shoes while wearing a suit!
LHC: What are you talking about?
CTODAG: Let me explain. I believe that the Surveillance Department head is referring to shoes. The surveillance team was wearing a formal suit with tennis shoes. That is how Mr. King knew the six men were surveillance team members.
SD: That’s correct.
TRD: What are we going to do about Mr. King. If I am correct with my suspicions, and Mr. King is as clever as he has shown, he will discover any future surveillance measures we do.
PAGE TWELVE
SD: I think we might have to activate AOI-101PERS to full status. Raise AOI-101PERS from probationary statues.
TRD: I concur.
CTODAG: As much as I disagree with the Surveillance Department and the Technological Resources Department, I must agree with them in this matter.
LHC: This is the first time we all agree on something. All in favor of activating AOI-101PERS to full active status?
(ALL HANDS RAISE IN FAVOR)
LHC: Any against this measure?
(NO VOTES FOR NAY)
LHC: Then we shall give AOI-101PERS full active status. Hopefully, this will solve some of our current problems. This meeting is adjourned and over.

FOUR
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 04/09/05]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 02:58:35PM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 00:01:47AM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTER PASSCODE: QdePo9#vm0PiC$LcBeqwsA6oUyWxh5HntY8u3DFjlb61PV#&y1DxQiUYVbn9mBvCe
Ru5OO8kHcM49uRVyPL1%Kbm3IxVbwp]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE: cQ7LhG5%1DXv3Z0IkeM@9YpJdOi9#7fSZv6py!cb2Nr]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
02:01:49 AM 04/16/05
I’m writing in the electronic journal right now and it is pretty late right now. It looks like it is some time past midnight. Oh, it is 2:00 AM. So I guess it is early in the morning and not late at night. I try not to stay awake this late, as I am not much of a night person. Nope, I’m not at all a night person. It messes with my well-regulated circadian cycle immensely and my circadian cycle is established almost to the second. Well, this was a different and special occasion since I was out with Evangeline earlier this day. I guess that a special occasion calls for certain hard-fast rules being changed when the time calls for it. It’s not that I am going to go out with her every single day and make this a consistent, let alone regular habit. I think that would be something very hard to do. That would require making a whole lot of changes that I can’t make all in one day, let alone one lifetime.
This might seem pretty dumb, but I wonder why I never noticed Evangeline before. This is probably the wrong time to wonder this thing. I probably should have written about this earlier, as this would have made much more sense. But since I’m writing this journal, I can write whatever I want when I want to write it. So there. And back to the point of this journal.
About Evangeline (She prefers to be called Evangeline instead of Eva. Personally, I like Evangeline as it sounds different. Eva sounds a little…well…plain in my opinion. Sure, it’s a little bit longer to say, but hey, I like it. I like it a lot. Besides, it’s her name so she can call herself what she wants to). I’ve known her since college, as we both attended the same university. We both took some of the same classes. Hell, we both camped out for basketball and football games in the same camping group. It’s not that hard to notice a mighty attractive girl with a sultry voice. You have to be pretty deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice her. I mean, really deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice her. And it took me until law school—note as I mention this again, I noticed her during law school—to notice her, let alone ask Evangeline out. Given my superlatively excellent record with asking her out, let alone noticing her, I am one of those special people. I guess there was something in my head that prevented me from doing this earlier. I should have jumped at the opportunity when I had it.
When we talk about this topic, which pops up from time to time, she even wonders why I didn’t ask her out before. Evangeline is an open-minded person. More open-minded that I give her credit for. Then again, I am coming from a different plane and a different train of thought. I have no decent answer for this question. I gave her the usual song and dance: “Look at me and look at you. Enough said.” Evangeline dismissed this as pure bunk in a nanosecond. I didn’t have to open my mouth a fraction of an inch and she shot me down. The look she gave was enough to tell me that she probably had heard this before or she knew I was going to give this answer. Did I mention she was a pro when it comes to non-verbal communication? And she is perfectly right with this assessment of the situation. I can be a total nitwit sometimes. I’m learning the hard way.
We decided to go to a concert at the Rhythm and Groove, one of the better music performance venues in this city. You really can’t call it a concert hall, as this place isn’t one of the real large stadiums or even one of the concert halls with plush seats and hard backs. You really can’t call it one of those hole-in-the-wall clubs that are grimy, with spilt beer on the floor and dirty bathrooms. I’ve been to the fancy and expensive concert halls and I’ve been to the grimy, dirty hole-in-the-wall clubs. This place is a whole lot cleaner than those places. I guess that the only term that can describe the place is “music performance venue.” I’m sure there is a better term to describe Rhythm and Groove.
So Evangeline’s friend, T.J. Diamond, is the lead singer/lead guitarist for a local band called Super Ultra Sayonara Banzai (SUSB). Yes, it is an unusually weird name but T.J and his band mates all have a love for Japanese culture like manga, Godzilla, samurai, and badly dubbed films. So while plastered on cheap beer and thinking of a name for their band, they decided that the name had to be amazingly ridiculous and distinctly Japanese sounding. Given their obvious leanings toward Japan culture, and their love of watching badly dubbed Japanese movies (the ones where people talk but their lips aren’t moving or their lips move and the people say nothing), they came up with this crazy name. It sounded like one of those sadistic Japanese game shows where the hosts put contestants through their paces by having them run through walls, getting paddled, and God knows what. The local music scene hipsters loved it and the rest is history. Despite their name, they are serious musicians and they are very good. [Note from Editors: Mr. King seems to have a knack for meeting unusual people. And he has a knack for becoming friends with them also. Not that this is a bad quality.]
Yeah. So me and Evangeline are listening to SUSB. The band has eclectic, wide-ranging and possibly esoteric music tastes. They did everything from Japan-Pop songs, hair band and heavy metal band covers from the 1980’s, a little from Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin, and some indie rock. SUSB pretty much covers every genre of music. Well, not every genre, but they come close to covering every single genre. Boy, was it an amusing and entertaining show. Loud. Very loud. Imagine an armada of jumbo jets taking off all at the same time with a tank division firing their guns. Toss in a building implosion for good measure. [Note from Editors: This is an obvious hyperbole and analogy combined into one. Obviously, they cannot be this loud, but we have read a description of the concert, and the music reviewer measured the decibels. It was close to 140dB, well within the range of a jumbo jet taking off.] That was how loud they played. I think that my eardrums are still rattling from the experience. They also had cheap booze flowing from the taps. A perfect Friday night concert.
At the end of the show (They did an encore by performing a rousing rendition of “Layla” by Eric Clapton, complete with the pyrotechnic guitar solo and an atmospheric version of “Dream On” by Aerosmith. They are two different songs on many levels, so a band that can do them with equal aplomb is a rare thing), I was introduced to the band. Very nice guys. You would never expect them to be the rockers by their breadth of knowledge. I really haven’t met such intelligent people in a while. Law school, I think, does not require much intelligence, per se. It’s more of a “regurgitate information” type of deal right now. They are very people friendly also. The band and me had a long discussion over various topics for an hour or so. I think that we had a good rapport. Great people.
By this time, it was getting to be some time near 1:30 AM. Evangeline was getting tired and the band wanted to go home to decompress. So it was time to say goodbye to everyone.
I dropped Evangeline off at her apartment and walked her to the door. I really don’t have much experience in this kind of thing, so I tried to play it cool. Didn’t come off that way.
I said, “I had a great time with you…um…yeah.”
She replied with a lot more confidence, “Me too. I had a great time also.” How she manages to stay so confident is beyond my understanding. Oh and how she manages to say everything in a sexy manner is beyond my understanding also. I guess that’s why I like her so much. And that is why all the males at the law school like her so much. Damn, aren’t I a lucky guy right now?
Awkward silence.
“Well, we’re at your doorstep. Um…yeah…good night.”
“You know,” she says with her hands on her hips, “it’s not a good night unless you kiss me. A silly hug or handshake will not do.”
Given this, I think that it would not be proper to leave without giving her a kiss.
“Much better. And that was a definite good night. See you on Monday?”
This is an interesting situation that has gotten better, possibly more awkward. OK, more awkward right now. I stutter. “Hopefully sooner.”
Evangeline laughs. “I’ll think about it. After I get some sleep. Good night to you.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I turned around, walked down the steps, and walked away.
Damn, today was a good day.
Time to go to sleep. But I really can’t right now. Way too excited right now. Must go to sleep. Must go to sleep.

Part Five...Things Get Stranger

2006-11-13T06:03:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER SIX: GREETINGS FROM THE FAR SIDE
“Predicting the future is easy. It's trying to figure out what's going on now that's hard.”
-Fritz R. S. Dressler
"Cum ist enim proprium viro sapienti supra petram ponere sedem fundamenti, stultus ego comparor fluvio labenti, sub eodem tramite nunquam permanenti." (If it is the manner of the wise man to build foundations on stone, then I am a fool, like a flowing stream, which in its course never changes.)
-Carmina Burana, "Estuans Interious"
ONE
Private Journal of Nicole Webb
10/25/04
Wow. I just don’t know how to describe this morning but as weird. That is all I can say about this morning. Sounds a little trite, but it’s the only word that can describe this. It seems as if this entire world has gone perfectly, absolutely, totally messed up.
Sure, this town has a reputation for being odd and eccentric, kind of like my old hometown of Austin, Texas. That place was odd and odd was an institution over there in a charming kind of way. This weirdness added to the atmosphere, the laid back, college-town attitude combined with the Texas flair that is world-renowned.
Over in Austin, you had the real estate agent who had a car covered in pigs. There was the suburban yard that was painted with gigantic, colorful polka dots. And there are a million other examples of eccentric behavior that lives in Austin, Texas. To show how weird Austin was, they immortalized all of the local characters, eccentrics, and oddballs in a musical/play that only people in Austin could pull off.
This state, however, is seriously messed up. Sure, this place is crazy, but the crazy people are not the “cat lady” type of crazy that is kind of lovable. It’s the weird-weird that gets onto the national news as an example of backwards thinking, science hating, ultra conservative, “I love you Jesus” behavior in a certain part of the world. Well, it’s not the kind of behavior that will get great positive publicity. The politicians and the more clueless citizens in this state wonder why everyone else thinks this state has such a bad reputation.
You’ve got a state Board of Education who thinks that proper science consists of teaching evolution and then evolves to “intelligent design” when there is too much heat. You have a state legislature that claims it is for the students and then screws them over by cutting education funding across the board. If that is not enough, you have nut-job Baptist pastors, anti-everything citizens, and swarms of self-proclaimed morality police. Just absolutely messed up.
Yeah, this school is weird in a patchouli smelling, pot smoking, keg beer drinking, kind of vibe that somehow coexists with law and order, excessive zoning, and strict regulations on everything that walks, talks, or moves or not moves for that matter. There are a whole lot of people that can be considered characters. Strange characters.
I start my day and I park at the nearby parking lot. Who should I see but David King, one of the more, shall we say, interesting people at the law school? He’s a nice guy and all, but he sure has a truckload of quirks. Very interesting quirks. [Note from Editors: We have searched the records the government stored as well as asked the estates of the relevant parties for any other documents. We and our dedicated team of research assistants (we forgot to include them in our list of acknowledgements—thanks to Bill Kerns, Bjorn Hartvig, and Gianni Bertolli) read every document and she does not write anymore about this incident. She also does not question him about this incident as well. We have concluded that Ms. Webb considered this another strange quirk of Mr. King. This is one time when having the reputation of being eccentric is good as it reduces the chances of being questioned for unusual behavior.]
I’ve only known him for a few months and I think I have come up with a good idea of his personality. I spend a lot of time with him as he is in my small section and if you are in the same small section, you all have the same classes and you socialize a lot inside and outside of the law school during your first year.
He seems like a law school gunner as he is always—at least when I am around him—is looking at a law school textbook. How he manages to keep a certain level of consciousness is quite amazing. Then again, he is not as strange as a guy I know in a different small section at this law school. Now Mike Neilson, that guy defines weird to a tee. If you look in the dictionary, you might spot his picture on the same page. Hell, Dave and Mike are not as strange as one of my friends from my hometown, Jake Lau. [Note from Editors: As unbelievable as this comment may seem, we must agree with this assessment. We have read several documents, including an autobiographical novel based upon a year in his law school experience. If this autobiographical novel is a fair and accurate representation, Mr. Lau is definitely eccentric, much more so than the other three mentioned in this journal entry.] That guy takes it to a different level. I wonder how he is doing? You know, those three would get along very well.
Anyway, Dave is acting strange. Even for his standards. Which is amazing.
He’s checking and double-checking his car. He’s feeling around his car seats, thinking that there might be something stuck between the cushions. He’s checking underneath the seats, poring over every inch. Not too unusual, right? Wrong. It’s just the beginning.
He pulls out a thin metal pole with a mirror at the end. Checks the underneath of his car. Now that is weird and going into the level of paranoid. Pulls out a metal box from his jacket pocket and walks around the car. Walking intensely. Poring over every inch. Once that is over, he locks the doors and walks away as if nothing is wrong.
Seriously…that is just strange on any level of the word’s definition. Unless he is training to be an explosive ordinance disposal expert or something. That is a good possibility. I would not be surprised by that possibility. Or he is in witness protection and a very violent person is going to trace him down and kill him. Nah. He probably is just acting strange again.
I’m not going to ask him what is up with him. It’s just not worth it.
I think that I will go and email Jake this little story. He’ll get a really big kick out of this story. This place is just weird on a different level, a totally different level.

TWO
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 10/19/04]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 11:58:01PM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 01:11:31PM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTER PASSCODE: QdePo9#vm0PiC2$LcBeqwsA6oUyWxh5HntY8u3DFjlb61PV#&y1DxQiUYVbn9mBvCeRu5OO8kHcM49uRVyPL1%Kbm3IxVbwp]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE: cQ7LhG5%1DXv3Z0IkeM@9YpJdOi9#7fSZv6py!cb2Nr]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
01:11:31 PM 10/25/04
I am so sorry that I haven’t updated this e-journal in a long time, a very long time. It’s been over two weeks since I last updated. What is going wrong with me right now? Am I now really going crazy? What is going wrong with me right now? Should I worry now that I am thinking I am going crazy or am I just rationalizing that I am not going crazy despite the evidence that may show that I am entering that state? God, that is so seriously [expletive deleted] up. I might be going crazy, possibly. I’m not sure. Maybe this is a good sign as this might encourage Them to quit this situation. Once I go mentally unstable, They might consider this to be beyond repair. I might try that route later if I deem it to be strategically necessary. I might come up with something that goes against their expectations. You know, I should keep that option open until later, when I might need it. This might be sooner than I think.
Doesn’t it seem strange that I am now apologizing over the fact that I am not entering entries into a private electronic journal? And that I am now proceeding to type every single thought that is coming from my head. This might be a sign of mental instability or I am becoming a fan of Virginia Woolf and the stream of consciousness style she wrote in. [Note from Editors: Virginia Woolf was a famed English writer who adopted the stream of consciousness style of writing. She is best known for such works as “A Room of One’s Own.” The work that Mr. King later refers to as “verbal diarrhea” most likely is “A Spot on the Wall.” Since we were both born in England and given a British education up till college, we are kind of partial to the writing of Virginia Woolf. We still, despite our liking for Virginia Woolf, must agree with his opinion of “A Spot in the Wall.” It is, in our opinion, dreadful. His criticism is semi-ironic as his style of writing can be described as mild form of stream of consciousness in some cases. ] I seriously hate her style of writing, absolutely loathed it. Pure verbal diarrhea.
I met McVath [Note from Editors: David King is using Smith’s code name for an unusual reason that is not easily explained. Maybe this is due to the high level of stress that he is feeling and this is a momentary lapse of memory] last week during the weekend at an undisclosed location. Someone, I’m not sure who, maybe one of his many runners and intermediaries, met me at my apartment in a nondescript Ford Taurus. A standard shade of gray, neutral, common to all brands and models of cars. All standard features, but with some differences. The engine was modified, more powerful due to a change made in engine computer chips. A skillfully installed metal plate welded into the trunk area. Headlights installed in the rear of the car. Easily tilted from the driver’s seat. Well-hidden control panel. [Note from Editors: Apparently, Mr. King recognized such features due to his considerable knowledge of executive protector firms—crudely referred to as bodyguards—and Mr. Smith showed a level of secrecy and protection of his privacy, considering his illegal activities.]
I was told to put a blindfold and a mask over my head so I could not see where we were going. After a long drive, a very long drive, most likely making large circles, turn backs, and Lord knows what, we arrived at McVath’s hideout.
His place is a truly technological marvel. Racks of electronics. A massive array of servers and mainframes and God knows what. Monitors. Specialized equipment that I can’t describe or know what purpose they had. There are bookcases full of documents. I’m thinking that most of this equipment is illegal or if not illegal, specially modified to be a tiny step away from being illegal. He truly is dedicated.
McVath presented himself in a different fashion. He was a tall man—at least 6’3, probably closer to 6’5. Not the skinny stereotype of most computer guys (computer guys generally are Bulkies or Skinnies and not in between. Think 97 pound weakling or 300 pound slob). He was wiry with muscles. Flaming red hair closely cropped to his skull. Black aviator sunglasses that obscured his eyes. I’m not sure what color his eyes are. I’m not sure if ANYONE knows what colors his eyes are. Wears those sunglasses all the time. Never seen them take his sunglasses off at any time at all. His wardrobe is black. Black shoes, socks, pants, shirt, leather jacket. Very anarchistic look if his skin did not have monitor tan that gave his skin a slightly greenish tone. That was something I haven’t seen since I took a computer science class in college. All the hardcore Comp Sci students had that greenish look to their skin.
He extended his hand out. It was lightly cool and dry from being in an air conditioned room all day. “Mr. King?”
I took his hand and shook it. He had a surprisingly strong grip. “Yes, you are correct. Mr. McVath, I presume? I’ve been looking for your help.”
He had a bemused smile on his face. “Ah yes, just like the Oracle at Delphi. You have come here to ask a question and to receive an answer.”
“Unlike the Oracle at Delphi, I am sure you don’t give ambiguous responses that lead to the end of kingdoms like the King of Lydia. Nor do you inhale mildly hallucinogenic and possibly poisonous hydrocarbon fumes to obtain your state of knowledge.”
“Point taken. But first, to continue with this ancient rite, you must give me the answers to mystic questions that will determine whether you get what you want.”
“Now you’re speaking like a Freemason. Get on with it.”
A barking laugh. “What are the first twenty decimal digits of pi?”
“3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971. Wait, that was thirty. I could go on if you are not convinced.”
“That was correct. Anyone can know that. If I go to the Varsity and I order a glorified steak with cheese, strings, and a F.O, what have I ordered?”
“You forgot the Georgia fried pie made of peach. But if you eat a cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise; an order of French fries; and a large frosted orange, you wouldn’t have enough room for one of their excellent peach pies.”
“Again, you are correct. What are the advantages of asynchronous data transfer when it comes to a high-speed G3 wireless network?”
“This sounds suspiciously like the Dilbert cartoon involving Dogbert’s cartoon creation of Captain Boron. What does that have to do with anything?”
A loud barking laugh. “Sorry about the security measures I was taking. With that answer, you’ve proven your identity. You are as Pedarenko described. Come, I will give you the answers that you want.”
Once the preliminaries were done, he gave me the information that I wanted. With his skills in breaking into the phone systems, Mr. McVath obtained the information that I wanted through means that I do not know. McVath did give a description, but it soon became so technical that it went completely over my head. Some stuff about tracing cookies through the data network and going though the relay switch and…too much, absolutely too much. All I know that he could trace these IP addresses. He managed to narrow the IP addresses down to a specific area in the city. The size of the area he narrowed down the IP addresses wasn’t that big, maybe one or two city blocks in area. This might require some further detective work to narrow it down to a specific address, but he has done more than I could ever do. It should not take too much work.
He also gave me some other goodies that I would possibly need. I used the extendible wand/mirror tool to check the underside of my car. That was quite fun to do. I think I managed to scare Nicole while doing this. It will add to the King mystique. I guess I won’t be able to get any more dates while in law school after this little incident. You know, I have a reputation as being to keep up and I can’t afford to lose it. [Note from Editor: This is ironic as Mr. King was notoriously single while in law school and while in law school, he did not have a girlfriend or a date. At least none that he writes about or others knew about. Mr. King would later prove to be successful, but this was due to the influence of the Itanimulli. The person he would later date and ultimately marry, much to his horror, was an Itanimulli who had the power to control the weather. How he managed to figure this out will be later discussed in this work.]
That’s all I have to say in this entry. It’s a good thing that I’m a glutton for punishment as I will have to do some reconnaissance to get a lay of the land. I haven’t been down in the underground tunnel system here since my college days. It will be a good feeling to be back down underneath these crowded streets. Got to find my tunnel maps. They’re somewhere in one of these boxes. I might have to contact Tunnel Rat [Note from Editors: We do not know who Tunnel Rat is, but we assume that Tunnel Rat, along with King, spent time in these underground tunnel systems. For the historically inclined, Tunnel Rat is also the nickname of the men of the 25th Infantry Division who explored the VietCong tunnel system. Their motto in Latin, “Non Gratum Anus Rodentum” translates into “Not worth a rat’s ass.” These soldiers were a special breed and were highly decorated for their bravery as the job entailed crawling blindly in dark, tight tunnels filled with giant rats, poisonous snakes, bats, and deadly booby traps. There were literally, hundreds of ways to die in a tunnel. ] for a copy.
That’s all for now, at least for today. I have to get ready for Legal Writing I...one of the most boring and most useless classes in law school. [Note from Editors: Legal Writing is a mandatory class for all ABA accredited law schools. It is part of the ABA recommended courses for first-year law school students. Apparently, the ABA noted that many law school students graduating from law schools had a poor sense of legal research and poor legal writing skills. The people responsible for academics at the ABA did a study and in a lengthy report, stated that law schools should teach legal writing skills to law school students. So that is why law schools make 1Ls take Legal Writing or an equivalent class going by a different name. Nearly all, if not all law school students consider this to be an absolutely class as if you can’t figure out how to find a book in a library, then you probably should not be in law school. Most of the class is spent learning about legal history, writing unrealistic legal memos, and learning how to write proper legal citations using the Bluebook. Why the class could not be taught in a more realistic manner is beyond the comprehension of law school students as well as law school faculty members. Even the law library staff consider guiding law school students around the library to be a pointless exercise. After a semester of this bull, it is no wonder why law school students consistently loathe this class.] If this is any indication of what law school is going to be like, then maybe I should quit while I am ahead.

THREE
Note From Tunnel Rat (Handwritten)
[Note from Editors: This is the only document from Tunnel Rat that we could find in Mr. King’s possession. In fact, we were extremely lucky to find such a document in Mr. King’s possession and the discovery of this document makes for an interesting story. While looking through Mr. King’s personal library—totaling about 3,000 books—we happened to open a Federal Reporter and this piece of paper fell out. When we had the document properly preserved, photographed, and scanned, we managed to get the full message. This was truly a great discovery.
Again, you should note that this is another message made in code. When translated, it refers to when and where they will meet to scope out the tunnel systems running underneath certain target areas mentioned by Smith. Mr. King’s use of another code word system shows his cleverness and possibly, his level of paranoia about secrecy.]
I just received your accounting books by certified mail today. I know you wanted me to audit your books to see if there might be any possible accounting errors. I ran the numbers through the accounting program this afternoon and everything seems to be in order. All the figures add up and there should be no problems with your mathematics. In order to be absolutely sure, I will need some extra documentation.
Could you please stop by my main office on Saturday night after closing hours? Bring your receipts and other business documents so I can verify my calculations.

Note To Tunnel Rat (Handwritten)
It is good to know that based upon a cursory check, my accounting is correct. You’ve predicted correctly. I want to be absolutely sure my accounting is correct or not.
It will be no problem for me to meet you at your main office located downtown. I will be bringing my receipts as well as other business documents for you to look over.

FOUR
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 10/25/04]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 01:11:31PM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 10:28:59AM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTER PASSCODE: QdePo9#vm0PiC2$LcBeqwsA6oUyWxh5HntY8u3DFjlb61PV#&y1DxQiUYVbn9mBvCeRu5OO8kHcM49uRVyPL1%Kbm3IxVbwp]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE: cQ7LhG5%1DXv3Z0IkeM@9YpJdOi9#7fSZv6py!cb2Nr]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
10:29:02 AM 11/01/04
I had an interesting weekend. It was quite fun to go back into the tunnels underneath this town. Me, Tunnel Rat and a few others at the Big School used to spend hours exploring those spaces, sometimes with humorous and not so humorous results. Like the time that Vertigo accidentally slipped and fell into a big pool of God know what while we were first mapping the Sewer Maintenance Tunnels underneath what we called Not-So-Grand Central Station. [Note from Editors: This was their mocking name for the City’s Main Bus Station, notorious for being inefficient and being late.]
The Public Utilities and Works Department (PUWD) said there are five distinct yet interconnecting, tunnel systems: telephone, water, sewer, gas, and basic maintenance. The first four are self-explanatory, but the final one—basic maintenance—might need a little explanation.
I asked a person at the PUWD what the basic maintenance tunnels were used for. He gave a long story that I found fascinating. Apparently, in the early days, this city wanted to be like New York City, complete with a subway system. This did not pan out, obviously, but since the city was expanding at a furious rate, they could use the subway tunnel system as a basic maintenance tunnel system making it possible to use this tunnel system if a part of another system shut down. In addition, they had all of these free tunnels dug, so why not make the most out of it? He mentions that while he was working down in the city water section of the PUWD, he spent lots of time down checking water mains. In the basic maintenance tunnels, there are large spaces that were converted to workers lounges where he could rest and watch TV and a bunch of other activities.
McVath narrowed the area down to the Cedar Hills North Industrial Area located about a mile north of the Cedar River. Strangely enough, the Cedar Hills South Industrial Area is located a mile north of this site. I guess it’s the South Industrial Area since it is on the south riverbank and not the north riverbank. Go figure. It’s just inside the city limits, a short distance away from the interstate. It is an ugly area that looks like the stereotypical industrial zone you would find in movies. Big, sprawling buildings made of metal and glass that look like giant boxes. Wide, flat boxes stuck side by side with other flat, wide boxes. Narrow, tall boxes piled on top of other narrow, tall boxes. Any one of those buildings could be the home base of the They.
Being a law school student, and being a fan of spending time poring over records, I went over to the county courthouse and spent Friday afternoon checking the property records. I narrowed the search area down to four buildings that changed ownership about six years ago. Six years ago, I moved to this city to go to college and ultimately, extending the stay to law school. [Note from Editors: The string of logic that he follows is extremely precise, though one might argue based upon possibly flawed assumptions. Then again, his logic is based upon a relatively solid base. It is safe to assume that the Itanimulli would have a central base located in the same region he was staying in. Logically, the headquarters has to be set up after King moved there. One cannot predict what anyone will do with 100 percent certainty. Generally, it would not be very smart to locate a local headquarters that is located miles away from the agents, especially if they spend most of their time near the law school. In addition, by being located by a major road like an interstate, transportation is easier and if any local agents live out of town, the headquarters is located at a convenient location. Finally, by choosing an industrial area located by the interstate, few people will question any activities that happen there like the movement of heavy machinery and large containers. This search, though possibly unorthodox, works well.]
The first two choices on the list were immediately excluded, as they were a scuba supply store and a sporting goods store. If I were going to have a local headquarters that could hold all of their equipment, then it had to be a large area with lots of empty space. I also checked both stores and every single square inch were packed with inventory. As an extra precaution, I also took a peek in their storage areas in the back and the warehouses they used to store extra inventory. Nothing but inventory, sadly to say. I even got a copy of the blueprints and double-checked those for secret hiding places.
The third building, a storage facility, checked out as well. It was what it claimed to be. I borrowed a friend’s SUV and drove up to the storage facility. I pretended to be a customer who was from out of town and moving into a brand new house. The only problem was that I was lacking storage space and I needed a temporary storage spot for a month or so. It took some of my social engineering skills (learned by personal experience), but I got to take a look inside some of the storage units. Nothing important. Just the usual stuff that people can’t store in their garage for fear of their car not fitting inside or items that overflow from their closet. Toys, sports equipment, exercise equipment, and other bits and pieces. I really hate it when things don’t pan out. Three down, one more to go.
I finally hit pay dirt with the final location. According to the county courthouse records, actually a property deed, the building in question was bought by a person with the name of John Littlejohn (a name that I associate with a bad spy novel or a name chosen by an alien for that matter) and in cash. About a half-million dollars. It was done all at once in one lump sum.
I called the former owner and did some more social engineering. I pretended to be an interested property buyer and started asking questions. You know what I mean. They were the usual questions like “How much does an average building cost,” “What is the market like around this area” and “What kind of businesses are common around here.” I hit pay dirt and did I strike it rich.
The former owner, Vince DiCastello, talked about John Littlejohn and the strange experience he had with “Mr. Littlejohn.” Mr. Littlejohn sure did act “pretty peculiar, almost inhuman” according to DiCastello. He was intrigued by DiCastello’s strong Southern Italian accent (from Calabria, no less) and his forceful manner of bargaining. Apparently, Littlejohn was not used to this style of negotiation. After a one-sided conversation, Littlejohn finally understood this process. Not so unusual, of course, as some people are not used to this, but the manner in which he stated this, seemed unusual to DiCastello. Mr. Littlejohn kept repeating, “Fascinating. I must remember this and write this down for my action report for Smerlon. Yes, he will enjoy this Earth custom.” Kept repeating this over and over again. And Littlejohn could not keep his eyes of a ballpoint pen. Thought it was an engaging object to behold.
Once the negotiations were complete (not even looking over the property for more than ten minutes at most), Mr. Littlejohn agreed to pay the asking price. Littlejohn just happened to have a bag filled with money, neatly stacked in nice bundles. Assorted bills, all in denominations less than $100. Just handed it over like it was nothing. “Mighty strange if you ask me. I like watching movies and it was like a scene from an action flick. An illegal drug deal or something. But hey, it’s cash and it was all real cash, so I didn’t question where he got it from, ya know? I ain’t gonna complain about that. Easiest deal I ever made in my life. Dude was strange, but if he pays money like that, I could t care less if he came walking in here wearing a clown suit with a big red nose.”
Of course. I knew that I had the right place. One problem. The only way here was by driving on the Cedar River Bridge. No tunnels were lying underneath the Cedar River. Too cost prohibitive according to the city. Bad news for me. Ah, but Tunnel Rat did more exploring than I did. He found a secret entrance into the guts of the bridge and by going down this way, the tunnel in the bridge led to a smaller subsystem underneath the Industrial Area. Excellent.
The trip to the Industrial Area wasn’t that exciting. Just the normal stuff that normal people do on a Friday night at 11PM. Breaking and entering by picking a padlock with a lock picking set. I think the summer at MIT might have something to do with Rat’s skill. [Note from Editors: According to Steven Levy’s book Hackers, students in the Computer Science/Engineering department were proficient at lock picking and safe cracking. Apparently, the administration locked vital computer parts and tools inside locked rooms and safes. For example, if you are writing code at a late hour and a circuit board burns out due to a broken part and it’s locked in a room, you are going to break in the room and fix the broken circuit board. At least if you were a computer science major at the time. In order to break into the room and get the parts you need, you had to know how to pick locks and crack safes. Either that or make a set of master keys. All perfectly illegal, but fine, as long as you didn’t get caught. This attitude is not condoned currently, but this was happening in the sixties, so they were more lenient then. Even now, however, some in the Computer Science/Engineering department at MIT consider this to be a valuable skill. But this leads to another more basic question. How did the homeless people pick the locks?] Safely making our way past extremely territorial homeless people trying to keep warm. Crawling underneath a pipe set a little less than two feet off the ground. Crawling through a warm puddle of some unknown yet smelly liquid. Walking fifty feet above the Cedar River. Absolutely normal stuff.
Tunnel Rat did notice something unusual. Like the second fiber optic cable. And the additional electrical cables. Not a regular cable you normally see, but a super thick one. Whatever was across the Wet Trench [Note from Editors: an affectionate local reference to the Cedar River] was sucking up a large amount of power. Tunnel Rat, being a computer nut, guessed that it might be a small supercomputer. Nothing like the IBM supercomputers like Blue Gene, but pretty powerful none the less. I’m thinking that he is right. I do dabble in computer science and stuff, but not like him. I trust his opinion. There were tangles of additional wire that indicated something serious.
“Damn, Dave, you’re getting us into some big stuff. I wouldn’t mind seeing what these people have up and running. It seems to be a big one.”
“Tunnel Rat, you don’t want to know. Trust me.”
I let Tunnel Rat lead us down the twisting tunnels. I’ve been down in the tunnels many time, but as his name suggests, Tunnel Rat is just the best. He lives for tunnel exploration, in addition to his fascination with all things related to computers. I don’t know how he does it, but he is the best when it comes to tunnel exploration in this town.
“Well, we are nearing what I like to call River Five Points. Where you want to go, the Cedar Hills North Industrial Area, is up here.” He pointed to the tunnel in the middle. “Now, this part of the tunnel system is pretty dangerous. It might be some of the newest tunnels, but the tunnels are carved into real crumbly rock that the local geologists call popcorn, cause it cracks and pops into little chunks that look like gray popcorn. The tunnels are cramped and dirty, lots of water seeps and drips through, even though the engineers used the special cement. Real nasty place. Real nasty place. But given what we saw earlier, I wouldn’t be surprised if the conditions have improved a bit.”
We walked down the middle tunnel. It’s quiet, perfectly quiet. No sound at all. Too quiet. If this place is wet, there should at least some sound like splashes or the constant plop-plop of drips.
“This is mighty strange, Dave. Mighty strange. I don’t like this at all.” He turned on a flashlight and a bright beam cut through the darkness. “What the hell? This is not right at all. Not right at all.”
And I knew I was on the right track. Perfectly smooth walls and floor made out of some material that was shiny, but not metallic, but not exactly plastic. All the wires that snaked in the bridge and wound their way in the previous tunnels disappeared. I guessed they were underneath this weird material. They just couldn’t have vanished.
“I’m getting a bad vibe. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.”
I did feel strange. I had this odd feeling like we were being watched somehow. It was a good thing we were wearing ratty and dirty clothes, that we were disguised to look like homeless people. You can never tell who might discover you. If you blend in with the locals, it’s all good. Trust me, you will never recognize me when I dress up like this.
“Yeah, I feel it too.” My eyes darted around. Up there. Up at a little corner. I saw a flash of red. Damn. It could be anything. Maybe it was a video camera of some sort. Maybe it was a motion detector of some sort. Maybe it was some kind of alien technology that They brought along with them from their home planet. I don’t know what it was and where the flash came from. I don’t know anything about this thing. All I know, that it was something and it was not good. Time to get the hell out of there.
“Did you see that flash of red?”
I nodded.
“This is not a good sign man. As much as I want to see the killer rig these people have, this is just not worth it. I’ve never been in a tunnel system that scared me this much. Something about this place has got me on edge right now.”
“I agree. I totally agree.”
Tunnel Rat and I turned around and casually walked away. Once we got to River Five Points, we gunned it. We didn’t care if we woke everyone up. We weren’t going to assume anything. If anyone was following us, we were going to put as much distance as possible between them and us. Sure, this isn’t the best strategy to use, but what did we care. Besides, I didn’t know what They had on us. I didn’t know if They were quick or slow, lazy or active, nothing. You might as well run like hell and hope the ones chasing you don’t catch you. That’s all.
We quickly made our way across the Cedar River Bridge. Quickly crawled through the muck, under the pipe. Once we made it to the homeless people, we slowed down and wove our way past the homeless people. Don’t want to piss them off. They’re dangerous when they get angry. When these people get angry, they get really angry. This leads to a lot of noise and a whole mess of trouble. This will lead you to bigger problems like the police. The police give me an allergic reaction that is not worth it.
Once we got past all the sleeping people, we quickly made our way out of there. Far away from there. Far, far away from there.
Since it was a Saturday night and we were a little hungry from the exploration, we decided to get a bite to eat from a local diner. Yes, diners have a bad reputation for having lousy food, this place actually has great food. Simple, but well-prepared and fantastic tasting food [Note from Editors: The place he is referring to is Calvin’s Light Rail. Founded by Calvin O’Neil in 1989, he served burgers (plain, with cheese or with anything you would like) and fries to hungry university students. It soon became an institution where locals and visitors alike gathered to eat the best burgers and fries in the city. After nearly a hundred and fifty years, this institution still lives, though in a different location and under new management, the sixth generation of O’Neils. Their cheeseburgers and fries are still excellent. Some of the best ever. We tried them when we visited the city while doing research for this book.] There’s nothing like crispy fries and a cheeseburger at midnight.
“That was a weird place. Real weird.”
“I didn’t expect that,” I said. “I have to agree with you. That place was weird.”
“You don’t seem so surprised. [Note from Editors: Apparently, Tunnel Rat is very shrewd or Mr. King is not that good at hiding emotions. We are of the opinion that Tunnel Rat is very, very shrewd at reading the human mind.] I’m guessing you know more that what you’re saying. But I’m not going to ask since we agreed to total secrecy.”
“You’re right on both counts. Let’s say I can’t tell and I won’t tell. We’ll leave it at that.”
“Fine.” He paused and said, “It’s only 12:20 AM. Let’s go over to Shooter McGee down the street and have a beer.”
“Rain check on that. Got to drive home and I’m tired. Maybe next week.”
That was my weekend. I went home and slept. And wondered who noticed us. And what They know about this expedition. They might decide to lay low or increase their security or I don’t know what will happen. I just hope They don’t bother me. What ever happens, happens. I’ve chosen the path that I am going to take and I have to take that path without fail. I, like King Lear, must stand the course.
I don’t know where this course will take me.

FIVE
Memo to MCRGES from Local Headquarters, Security Department, November 1, 2004 (Earth Time)
To: MCRGES
From: Head of Security Department, Local Headquarters
On October 30, 2004 at 11:31:47 PM, there was a possible security breach occurring in the underground tunnels located near the local headquarters. Please refer to Map LHQUT2, Map Grid C4-Subgrid D3. After looking at the security tapes, two humans got to Point Delta One, which is just beyond the main intersection in the tunnel system. This is the farthest breach we have had on the tunnel security system, which was operational at the time.
The two subjects were dressed like what people on Earth call “homeless.” They were extremely dirty and unkempt, with ragged, dirty, and torn clothing covered in dirt and oil and other filth. Their shoes were rugged boots, well worn and covered in dirt and mud also. Their faces were covered in knitted wool masks and a heavy layer of dirt and oil as well. Due to the amount of mud and dirt and oil and other foreign substances covering their face, as well as the clothing worn by the individuals, it is very likely that the two individuals were homeless people and not of importance. There is the chance that the two individuals were not homeless, but youth interested in adventure. I have done research on this topic and it is very likely that they are what the Internet calls “urban explorers” or “tunnel explorers.” I am of the opinion, however, that these two individuals were homeless people who wandered into the tunnel and decided that venturing farther was worthless.
I must commend the technology section of the Security Department for the advancements they made to the ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machine. Their modifications have turned a generally focused wave into a multi-spectrum, multi-wavelength machine that can affect multiple people. [Note from Editors: The ThetaPlus Mind Manipulation Machine manufactured by the Itanimullian company of ThetaPlus, is the same machine used by the Local Agent to modify the mind of the law school dean. How the Security Department of the MCRGES local headquarters managed to do these modifications is not known. We have checked all the records available and there are no records. The MCRGES Local Headquarters seem to have destroyed all records.]I suggest that we increase the security around Point Delta One. Our computers have suggested putting in extra motion sensors and having a regular patrol of the area. In addition, if needs be, keeping all the homeless away. This may be considered overkill for such a minor intrusion into this area, but an intrusion is an intrusion, no matter how minor. After all, this experiment is a major and important experiment and security is paramount. Any breach of security leading to failure of this experiment would be bad.

Part Four...The Madness Continues

2006-11-07T05:57:00.000-08:00

THREE
[Note from Editors: The complaints raised by CTODAG would prove to be prophetic as King did know of the Plan. Why the Chief of MCRGES did not listen can be best explained by the following: losing face. The Chief of MCRGES was running a successful experiment and by even considering, let alone admitting that the subject knew what was going on would have been disastrous to his reputation and the validity of the experiment. It was much easier to pretend that nothing was wrong instead of taking time to investigate.]
Communications to Head of Analysis &Operations Planning Division, September 22, 2004 (Earth Time)
To: Head of Analysis &Operations Planning Division
From: Chief Technology Officer, Data Analysis Group (CTODAG)
My job is to analyze all publicly available information that comes from the subject, at least all material that is oral or written and that can be confirmed as being written by the subject.
One of the materials that fit these constraints are posts written on his blog, with the home page at [WEB SITE ADDRESS DELETED]. The relevant passage is at the following link: [WEB SITE ADDRESS DELETED].
After scanning this post through the filter program, the post raised several red flags. All of these red flags related to the Experiment and the Plan related to it. The relevant passage is as follows:

What if the world was an elaborately designed stage with all the buildings and trees and everything else created just to make the ruse seem real? What if everything we did was elaborately scripted and we are all actors or worse, puppets controlled by some higher power of some sort, not necessarily God? But let’s take that to an extreme degree. You’re the only person that exists in this fantasy world. The only independent person there. Everyone else is there to get you to conform and follow an established set of behavior. One giant conspiracy and you are the sole focus of this conspiracy against you. One person against the entire world.

As you can see from this relevant passage, the subject has written about the basic structure of the Experiment and the Plan related to it. The basic premises that the world has been crafted to make the experiment work. The actions of those he interact with have been scripted for a basic purpose. The only “real” person is the subject. The whole hypothesis: basic conformity to an established set of behavior. The focus of the experiment is just he alone.
One might argue that this is just a random coincidence and that this is the blind grasping of straws of a person. Random thoughts. A passing whim. This, however, is a faulty conclusion, despite what the extrapolation programs might print out, actually what the extrapolation programs have printed out. He HAS discovered the Plan and the Experiment. Therefore, this experiment should be stopped right now.
-Virgus Krallon, CTODAG

Secure Communication to MCRGES from Head of A&OP Division, September 24, 2004 (Earth Time)
To: Head of MCRGES
From: Head of A&OP Division
I received a communication from my Chief Technology Officer, Data Analysis Division, and he sent me an interesting communication. By interesting, I mean reckless and baseless based upon the lack of evidence and the results from the extrapolation program.
He believes, based upon his beliefs, is that the subject has figured out the Experiment and the Plan associated with such said Experiment. In addition, he states that the experiment should be stopped immediately. He bases this on his instincts, a generally human behavior. All due to one paragraph in a much longer writing done by the subject. His basis? Given all these happening at once, it really can’t be coincidence.
There is much evidence against this very rash conclusion. All the extrapolation programs have given the opposite result with 96.27 percent certainty. The subject, in addition, has strictly adhered to the route we have chosen for him, despite declarations expressing doubt. This is normal as humans always express uncertainty despite certainty. I would rather believe the results based on hard science than gut instincts right now. It is common sense and the results from the extrapolation program back this up.
I suggest that the CTODAG has been assimilated too much and cannot be trusted for being non-biased. It might be good if CTODAG is placed upon probation and should spend some time back on Itanimullis to gain a proper perspective.
-Praxitel
ENCL: Text of Subject’s Writing, Extrapolation Program Results

Secure Communication to Head of A&OP Division from MCRGES, September 26, 2004 (Earth Time)
To: Head of A&OP Division
From: Head of MCRGES
After reading the text of the subject’s writing and seeing the extrapolation program results, I must concur with your conclusions. It is a rash conclusion to come to, based upon the lack of evidence.
It would be a good idea if the Agents of Influence keep a closer watch on the subject to make sure he is not playing a ruse. The subject is quite intelligent and is a cunning strategist, plus he has an independent streak. We must make sure that his actions are his true actions.
About CTODAG…your suggestions of what to do about him…I approve. Effective immediately, he shall be placed upon probation and henceforth, be sent on the first shuttle back to Itanimullis. Make an example out of him. It is so sad that he had to be the first Itanimulli to assimilate to human ways.
-Smerlon

Order to Chief of Technology, Data Analysis Group, September 28, 2004 (Earth Time)
To: Chief of Technology, Data Analysis Group
From: Head of Mind Control Research Group Earth Station
Virgus Krallon-
I have received your communication to the Head of the Analysis and Operations Planning Division and I have carefully read it. I also have read the extrapolation program results as well. In addition, I have seen the post as well. After carefully reading all available evidence, and after carefully thinking things over, it is my deepest regrets that you have been temporarily removed from your position, Chief of Technology, Data Analysis Group.
I believe that you have received too much human influence while on Earth. Krallon, you shall be placed on probation and henceforth, be sent on the first shuttle back to Itanimullis. As I have stated earlier, it is a shame that it had to come to this action, and for such an excellent and bright scientist.
-Smerlon

FOUR
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 09/21/04]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 3:18:57PM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 08:34:07PM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTER PASSCODE: QdePo9#vm0PiC2$LcBeqwsA6oUyWxh5HntY8u3DFjlb61PV#&y1DxQiUYVbn9mBvCeRu5OO8kHcM49uRVyPL1%Kbm3IxVbwp]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE: cQ7LhG5%1DXv3Z0IkeM@9YpJdOi9#7fSZv6py!cb2Nr]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
8:34:11 AM 10/02/04
I am wondering what They are doing right now at this moment. The stuff that I wrote in my blog, all of those seemingly random musings about their little Experiment and the Plan must have thrown them for a real big loop. They must be throwing a real big fit right now. Well, at least this is what I think They are doing. It’s kind of hard to accurately conjecture what They, some people, some civilization that I don’t anything about, look like or what they do. I am assuming right now that They are similar to humans, but I guess I am being totally Earth-centric.
Whatever they look like, whatever they think, I just don’t care at this moment. That is just not that important right now at this moment. What I am going to do next, that is much more important right now. You know what? I am going to go mess up their plans, seriously mess up their plans. Once I get through with them, they are going to regret ever meeting me. They are going to regret making me the center of their plans. Yes, once they get a serious dose of what I am capable of, they are going to regret it.
In order to do this effectively, I need to seek out and identify who their minions, their agents are—the humans who are under their control—and more importantly, if it is possible, who the active They are. If any of Them are out on Earth, especially any out here at the Law School, I will find them and I will mess with them mentally. Right now, I’m not going to mess with them physically. Though there is no mental without physical. Doing physical damage to them would be too much at this moment. It will be fun to go and screw with them minds. I’ve always wanted to see what it is like to psychologically destroy the mind of an alien.
I wouldn’t be surprised if They have any of their agents out here at this moment. I’ve had that suspicion for a long time. A very long time. But there is going to be a problem with identifying the agents. Everyone could be an agent. I will have to distinguish between an innocent comment and a comment that is meant to be suggestions from the They.
I’m not going to give the They the advantage. I am going to play a forceful beginning and play the game of mental chess with a strong offensive attack-style. It is going to be no-quarters, no-holds-barred, blitz-them-constantly, a truly unpredictable type of combat. If I have to lose a few important pieces like a queen to win the game and to win the match, then I will go and do it if I have to. Whatever is necessary.
My mental sanity is just a minor thing right now when compared to everything that is at stake in this game. The true prize is my freedom. Losing sanity, losing friends, losing anything, no matter what, is nothing. What good are friends if you aren’t free to enjoy your life, as you want to enjoy it, to do what you want to do, because you decided you wanted to do it, when you know it’s all a well-constructed sham? What good is anything [Note from Editors: This is an unusual and possibly extreme viewpoint but given the situation, we would not know what to do. We might have just done nothing, sadly, instead of resisting and fighting back.]?
I need to do a look up in my list of contacts to implement some parts of my plan, after I make sure they aren’t one of them. They have experience in areas that I do not have much experience in. As much as I like them, I can’t afford to make any mistakes in the people that I associate with. One mistake and they find out my secret—that I know what they are doing in their experiment. If I make a mistake and exclude an actual human not tainted by the influence of a They, then that’s the price I pay. As much as I like them, I hope that they’re human…

CHAPTER FIVE: A PLUNGE INTO THE RABBIT HOLE
“Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom thyself to consider that the nature of the Universe loves nothing so much as to change the things which are, and to make new things like them.”
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Meditations (ch. IV, 36)
“I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course.”
-Gloucester, King Lear, Act III, Scene vii, 57
ONE
Excerpts from Journal of AOI-71JDO
[Note from Editors: The name of the law school was not removed by the Editors, but by the Dean of the law school. Why he decided to remove the name of the law school is unknown. We have contacted the estate for additional materials, but there were none. Apparently, before the Dean died, he burned all his papers, except for the few excerpts that are published in this work.
As to the expletives that were deleted, the Dean, who after his conversion was so ashamed that he removed them. It is not necessary to include the expletives as it is easy to surmise what certain words he used in his journal. That and it is not necessary to include them for any reasons of context or ease of interpretation or for historical accuracy. This was the original state of the documents when we received them.]
08/20/04
It is that time of the year again. Time to resume my much-vaunted position of the Dean of [NAME OF UNIVERSITY REMOVED] School of Law. Much-vaunted position? What a [expletive] load of [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]. If this job was as good as they said, I would be getting paid more, a whole [expletive deleted] truckload more. The [expletive deleted] state of [STATE DELETED] is too cheap to pay me more. I’m running the school that makes the future lawyers that protects the right-wing nutjob wackos that are currently running the State of [STATE DELETED]. I’m dealing with pseudo-intellectual pompous professors and making sure their egos are well-fed without letting them go out of control. In addition to that, I’m keeping rein on hundreds of young adults that will graduate with a law degree and most likely turn into alcoholics and druggies. Making sure that they don’t [expletive deleted] up too seriously and lose their chance to be good taxpayers with six-figure incomes. [Expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]. And for what? I don’t even get a decent parking space. You know what? I have to go park nearby a bunch of [expletive deleted] hippie grad students. The head of the med school gets better parking than I do? What’s so special about that person? Oh yeah. As a doctor, he can KILL people…by accident of course. Even worse, some person saying he is from some planet named Itanimullis stops me and says that I will keep a careful eye on one of the new 1Ls. Hey, I’ll keep an eye on a 1L student as long as they are female and attractive. What the [expletive deleted]? Like I’m going to believe that little spiel? He’s an alien. Yeah [expletive deleted] right! So I tell this paranoid-schizophrenic, “[Expletive deleted] off! Who the [expletive deleted] do you think you are? Telling me that I’m supposed to keep a watch on a [expletive deleted] 1L? You aren’t a cop and you sure as [expletive deleted] isn’t my boss, so what gives? I think you’re a nutjob, so keep the [expletive deleted] away from me!
He walks away and says, “I see you are not very receptive. Maybe when we meet again, you will not be so hostile.”
The nerve of people! Thinks that he can intimidate me!
08/23/04
Not to sound paranoid, but I think that same [expletive deleted] wacko who talked to me on the first day of school was near my house this weekend. If you ask for my personal opinion, this is pretty [expletive deleted] suspicious. I hope it’s not some [expletive deleted] private investigator or something. That would be bad for my reputation. Something really strange about that guy. What does he want to do with some 1L? I know that King is an excellent student. One of the best 1Ls we’ve had at [SCHOOL NAME DELETED] in a long time. If that wacko comes around again, I’m going to call the cops on him.
Seriously, I am going to call the cops on him.
Yeah, that will show him who is boss.
08/25/05
I [expletive deleted] knew it! My suspicions about that [expletive deleted] wacko was right! He was by my house during the weekend! I wonder if he is a private investigator. If he is, I want to know who the [expletive deleted] hired him to watch me. You know, I’m going to call the cops tomorrow. He’s a nuisance!
09/01/04
I’m looking at my journal entries and I am puzzled by some of the journal entries that I have in this journal. Why do I refer to this “wacko” as if he exists and why does he figure so prominently in my journal entries? I don’t know who this “wacko” is? And why do I use such repulsive language in my entries? This is not good for my reputation as a law school dean. Do I use such horrible language in real life? If I do, then I must make a change. I shudder to think that I actually use such language.
I think I will go and ask about David King. He is an excellent student and it would be a shame if he did not succeed academically while at this law school. Mr. King is a priority.

Action Report from MCRGES Local Area Agent, September 5, 2004 (Earth Time)
To: Head of MCRGES
From: MCRGES Local Area Agent, Law School Sector
You will be glad to know that I have successfully completed Stage One of the conversion process at the [SCHOOL NAME DELETED] School of Law. The most important Agent of Influence at the [SCHOOL NAME DELETED] School of Law—the Dean of the Law School, [NAME DELETED]—was the hardest one to accomplish. He proved to be a terrible person before the changes I made to his mind. Very resistant to change, despite saying he has an open mind. The Dean received the Agent of Influence Designation AOI-71JDO.
The Dean—AOI-71JDO—proved to be a very foul-mouthed individual with little redeeming characteristics. Actually, none what so ever. This is an honest description, completely unbiased and completely based upon careful observation. In public, AOI-71JDO has the image of being glib, smooth talking, and very personable. He has an aura, a sense of vital charisma: qualities that on Earth are redeeming characteristics. They are characteristics that are vital—no, essential—for what humans call Public Relations, or PR. As the Head of the law school, AOI-71JDO, needs such characteristics to survive in his position.
In private, when he is not being watched, AOI-71JDO, is a different person. One that, quite honestly, is a complete opposite of his public image. He uses expletives and foul language that would be censored and considered excessive, even by the most foul-mouthed human or the most free-speaking mind. AOI-71JDO teaches a course on First Amendment Rights and interestingly enough, “free speech” is a part of said rights. I doubt that the Supreme Court that AOI-71JDO speaks so eloquently of during his lectures would consider his language fitting within the acceptable bounds of free speech.
After trying to deal with him reasonably and rationally, I decided that more forceful measures would be needed. My first three encounters ended negatively. The first encounter was the worst of the three encounters. When I tried to give our basic needs to him in a sensible manner, he responded to such kindly worded demands with a tirade of angry and vile language.
The second encounter did not fare so well. I reasoned that meeting him at his home would lead to more fruitful results. Being at home generally calms such people down and puts them in a more responsive, receptive and relaxed mood. He responded with another verbal tirade of foul language. He said the following: “You’re the same [expletive deleted] wacko who talked to me a few days ago! You [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] punk! Keep your [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] away or I’m going to [expletive deleted] give you a beating you wont forget before I call the cops!”
The third encounter, the one before I used more forceful means, ended with the same results. After this encounter, I decided to use Itanimulli mind control technology techniques to change his attitude. I dread to consider what might have happened if AOI-71JDO did not change his awful behavior. Awful. Just awful.
Our fourth and final meeting led to distinctly positive results. After receiving a terribly long and dreadful verbal tirade that questioned my paternity, my mother’s sexual behavior, and my personal sexual preferences, as well as other insults, I pulled out a standard Itanimulli hypno-light and used it once on him. I made sure that there were no other people around before using the hypno-light and I made sure that there were no other people around.
After using the hypno-light, I used a one-way invisibility screen that made us invisible to others, but allowing me to see others. While the screen was activated, I connected him to a mind and behavior modification machine. I typed in the behavior variables that I wanted him to change and the behavior variables I wanted to keep. In addition, I modified his neurochemistry to better accept such behaviors and to keep him calm and less volatile. I believe that such changes were needed and that such changes would be approved.
Once the entire process of mind and behavior modification was made, I thoroughly erased all memories of myself from his short-term and long-term memory. Once that was done, I turned off the invisibility screen and quickly left.
I currently believe that AOI-71JDO will be a much better Agent of Influence now that these changes have been made.

Response from MCRGES to Local Area Agent, September 6, 2004 (Earth Time)
To: MCRGES Local Area Agent, Law School Sector
From: Head of MCRGES
Excellent work. I approve of what actions you took. [Note from Editors: Another instance of hypocrisy by the Head of MCRGES. We have read the entire copy of his research proposal and there is no mention of allowing Field Agents to use behavior modification machines on human Agents of Influence. We do not know who authorized this particular action. There is absolutely no paperwork available, at least to us, which authorize this action. We have thoroughly searched and re-searched the Itanimulli Archives.] After looking at the behavior profile of AOI-71JDO, I agree that your actions will make him a much better Agent of Influence.
Due to your initiative and your commendable actions, you have hereby received a bonus to your annual salary as well as a temporary increase in rank.
I hope you continue to do excellent work in the future. You are a valuable asset to Itanimullis and the scientific research program.

TWO
Excerpts from Journal of AOI-71JDO
09/10/04
I have been keeping in touch with the other major AOIs in the Law School. They are all law school professors who are teaching Mr. King his first year courses. All are reporting that Mr. King is an excellent student as his records have shown.
His Contracts Professor, Mr. [NAME DELETED], says that Mr. King shows lots of promise in Contracts and he would like Mr. King to take more contracts courses. I would concur, but I think that Mr. King should expand his horizons and not take such a narrow focus. Maybe he can take courses that include contracts in their course descriptions like Family Law and Real Estate Law and Land Transactions.
His Property Professor, Mr. [NAME DELETED], says that King is an attentive and smart student, always focused. It is another positive review of Mr. King’s abilities. We sure have done a great job in choosing King.
I believe that the Lawyering Small Section leader is not being as truthful as I would hope. In order to get the maximum results from King, it is necessary to get an honest evaluation. [NAME DELETED] states that they have a good relationship, but I doubt this. I have overheard King talk about Lawyering Small Section and he does not sound exactly happy. As the Law School Dean, I really don’t blame King as Lawyering is not an exactly useful course. It is not focused on real-life examples, but is more of a moot academic exercise. I really would like to revamp the course, but the American Bar Association can be a real pain. Their standards are not the best ones to have. I think they are useless. After seeing [NAME DELETED] teach the small section and seeing how students are so frustrated after visiting [NAME DELETED], I too would be bitter about the class. I think that [NAME DELETED] should change their teaching style. No, it is not should change, it is “will change.” We can’t afford to have so many bitter students angry with a class. It would not be good, especially if it is King. Must keep King happy. A happy King is a good King [Note from Editors: Apparently, the Itanimulli Mind Control programming is highly effective, though highly scary from reading this journal entry.]
09/14/04
I’ve had a discussion with [NAME DELETED], the Lawyering Small Section leader about his teaching style. He was not happy, but I convinced him to make a few minor changes as the students were complaining about it. I showed him some of his latest performance reviews—the more negative ones, as all of them are negative—and said that this was not acceptable. If he did not have a substantial change in his reviews, this law school would not want him to teach here as it reflected poorly on the law school. Ineffective teachers are bad.
He denied that he had such reviews and that he was an excellent professor. He said that he never received any complaints about his teaching style. Well, he has known about this and even the Lawyering professor said [NAME DELETED], in his own words, “sucked badly at teaching Lawyering.” I had to persuade him a little more forcefully to change his mind.
He changed his mind after some prodding, well, a lot of prodding, but he did change his mind after a bit of thinking. Ah, it is really good to be the Dean of a law school. Everyone will be happy with this change. King will be happy with this change. King is important.

THREE
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 10/02/04]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 08:34:07PM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 09:32:47AM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTER PASSCODE: QdePo9#vm0PiC2$LcBeqwsA6oUyWxh5HntY8u3DFjlb61PV#&y1DxQiUYVbn9mBvCeRu5OO8kHcM49uRVyPL1%Kbm3IxVbwp]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
[RUNNING E-JOURNAL]
[ENTER E-JOURNAL PASSCODE: cQ7LhG5%1DXv3Z0IkeM@9YpJdOi9#7fSZv6py!cb2Nr]
[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]
09:32:55 AM 10/07/04
“Thou shalt, in thy Warrior’s Mind and Soul, always remember My ultimate and final Commandment: There are No Rules—Thou Shalt Win at All Cost.”
-Richard Marcinko, The Rogue Warrior’s Ten Commandments of SpecWar
My counterattack is going well, it’s going very well. Hey, I know I am not General Patton or even Julius Caesar, but I know something about tactics. I know what I know. I might not be pulling out the massive firepower like the big guns or the tactical air strikes, but it’s happening quietly. Sometimes, the most effective counterattack is the quiet one, the one the enemy doesn’t know about. That’s the best one.
I know They are stalking me right now. I know They are searching me out using their Hunter teams to sniff me out. I know They want me to go the way they want me to go follow, but I am not going to let them get me. I’m never going to let them get me. It’s not going to happen. Because I know how to get out of this little trap that They have planned to ensnare me in. I won’t fall for their trap. I won’t follow their plan willingly anymore.
When you don’t know whom exactly the enemy is, you have to counterattack slowly. You have to plot and scheme carefully. You have to move slowly and make sure your flanks are covered, your rear is clear, and the front is safe. It takes time. A counterattack isn’t a massive and flashy firepower display. It’s an effective attack that takes out the enemy, no matter what the size of the attack.
You may be thinking, “So, Mr. Military Genius, how do you beat an ambush team when you don’t know who the enemy is or how many there are?” As the great tacticians do in this situation, they circle around carefully, come back on their own tracks, cover their trails, and ambush the people who want to ambush you. Unlike the military men, I’m not going to lay a physical trail right now. There won’t be any tire threads or broken branches or anything of that nature. I’m going to leave a different type of trail. It’s going to be a massively twisting and confusing mess of electronic documents, little hints that suggest a million different things. It will lead them to an unknown place, forcing them to leave their own comfort zones, forcing them to move slowly to get their bearings. I’ll lead them to a place that they won’t expect, but one that I know. This path will be one they haven’t thought of or even expected. By the time they reach the place I want them to be, they’ll be confused. I’ll be waiting for them and I will get them all. That is a promise I will not break. It’s that simple.
I’ve come up with ideas about who at the Law School are the top Agents of Influence and therefore, people I should be careful around. The top Agent of Influence has to be the Dean of the Law School. Hey, he’s the top man at the Law School. He was on the Selection Board that chose which people got to be the students at the Law School. It’s obvious. That’s not all. I think someone at the law school has seen one of Them. Yes, one of the They that are responsible for this experiment.
I’m not going to name any names, so I’ll refer to this person as X. [Note from Editor: X is like the shadowy figure of Deep Throat of Watergate. Why Mr. King still managed to trust X, despite what King knew, is quite surprising.] This person, X, despite being a 1L, has a parking permit at the parking garage. I’m not sure how, but X has a permit that is highly coveted by everyone. After parking their car on the second level, X happened to see the Dean talking to a strange man. I use the term “man” in the loosest definition of the word, for I know they are not men or women or human. He is dressed entirely in black and he is wearing black sunglasses. This “man” is dressed just like the Men in Black (MIB) that UFO conspiracy theorists talk about constantly.
The Dean, according to X, was getting out of their car when this man walked up to him and said some words. X is not sure about what was said, but X got some fragments. MIB said something about keeping an eye on someone. X decided that this was a bad situation. It was a gut feeling that something was going to happen. X is good about these things. I can always trust X to be right and X proved to be correct.
X immediately hid behind a car—X’s car. A concrete pillar was conveniently nearby and that helped X get camouflaged pretty well. What X saw was amazing.
The Dean let loose an angry stream of curse words. That’s not all too surprising. I’ve seen him let loose and even a hardcore gangster rapper couldn’t top it. Make them hang their head in shame for being outdone by a middle-aged white guy. Either that or in shame for doing rap records that use curse words in such a manner. He is that loose with his use when he is speaking certain four-letter words.
And the MIB pulled out a device that flashed a bright light. The Dean froze and his attitude suddenly changed. He became docile and quiet. No words at all. Absolute silence. Amazing. I’ve never seen him quiet before. The MIB put that in his pocket and pulled out another little device and when the MIB used that, he disappeared. POOF! Just like a cartoon magician. He became completely invisible, along with the Dean. Just as quickly as they disappeared, they magically reappeared. In an instant. No lag of any kind. They walked away as if nothing had happened. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen in his entire life.
I believe X, despite X telling this crazy story. In a different light, I would consider this story to be so crazy, I would consider it fantasy. But I can believe it because I know it to be possible. I know that They are there. I know that this story has to be true. I must believe.
Given this development and analyzing it with raw mental power (and not with some fancy computer), I can safely come to the conclusion that the Dean is an Agent of Influence. He is the major Agent of Influence at the Law School. The other Agents of Influence—at least the ones that I know of—must be my professors. The ones who are teaching me right now.
It has to be them right now. They have the most access to me at the law school, the ones who will shape what classes I take, the ones who will guide me to stay in law school and ultimately, become what They want me to be. I’m sure of it. I don’t have hard evidence—as if They are going to make mistakes and leave evidence out in the open—but there is circumstantial evidence that points to that direction. My Contracts professor invites his class to his house for a party and he would like me to be there. He only told me this. My other professors seem to focus on me during class and makes sure I understand everything. My Lawyering Small Section leader has changed his way of teaching.
This is the first battle of this secret war. They fired the first salvo long before I knew what happened. Now that I know I have an enemy and they are waging war on my home turf, I am fighting back. This is the first battle and it may prove to be a long battle. A lengthy battle of attrition where both sides will suffer heavy losses. I might, hopefully, win this first battle against the largest enemy force I know—They. This is just the beginning. I might win this first battle, but I know this will not be the end. I cannot and I will not claim total victory after this bloody battle. There will be another equally terribly battle and another one and another one.
This will be the first battle in a lengthy campaign being fought at law school. The classrooms and hallways will be the battlefield. The first year of law school with the first stage in the law school campaign. After fighting this first campaign and possibly winning or losing, there will be another campaign and another campaign. The stakes escalate higher and higher and higher until it reaches an unbearable level. After enough campaigns and enough is put on the line, one of the sides will give up and declare a ceasefire. Or neither side decides to give up and there will be a détente. A cold war. A seemingly permanent stalemate.
I may not win convincingly, but I will not give up. I will go for the win and if not, I will go for the stalemate. After all, I have all the time in the world. I’ll bury myself into a position that they will have to drop tactical nukes to get me out. And I won’t be blown out. I will stick there for a long time, a very long time. I guarantee that They won’t win.
There are no rules in this war; there are no Geneva Conventions in this war. No Marquis of Queensbury Rules. I will make the rules for this fight and I will control the situation. If They don’t like it, They’ll just have to deal with the situation just as I am doing right now. I’ll change the situation and factors so that the odds are in my favor to guarantee a win or a stalemate for me. If I end up in a stalemate, I’ll just sit and wait and plan. I will plan a way to win. There is no such thing as surrender. Losing is not an option. I will, no I shall win at all costs.

FOUR
Email to Viktor Pedarenko From David King
To: [EMAIL ADDRESS DELETED]
From: [EMAIL ADDRESS DELETED]
CC: [NONE]
BCC: [NONE]
Subject: Computer Repair Question
Viktor-
Hey, how are you doing? It’s been a while since we have last talked, but I have a problem that you may be able to solve. You’re the best guy I know who can fix a computer.
My computer is not working or so it seems to appear to be so. I won’t bore you with technical details, but will give a non-technical version. I know that you can solve such problems and your solution and explanation will be straightforward.
I can access the Internet fine, but my hard drive is acting funny. It makes a strange noise when I try to use my HTML editor. You know I have a blog and it’s important that the HTML editor works properly.
Apparently, when I tried to access my HTML editor, it said that the file was not found. This is odd as I did a search on Windows Explorer and it appears to be there. It exists on Windows Explorer, but it doesn’t exist according to the computer.
Please let me know what could be wrong and any solutions to this problem. It would be great if you could respond as soon as possible.
-Dave
[Note from Editors: Apparently, Mr. King and Mr. Pedarenko had a coded word double-talk system that is based upon the code word system that is used by intelligence agents. This shows a level of paranoia that may or may not be justified. It is safe to assume that Mr. King and Mr. Pedarenko must have communicated in this manner quite often, or they would have never have decided to speak in code, let alone mutually agree to this code word scheme. He must have been driven to paranoia to keep his secret knowledge a secret. What drove them to use this code word scheme originally, however, is not known. Unlike Mr. King, Mr. Pedarenko did not keep electronic journals, let alone put anything in writing. He was more security conscious than Mr. King. Again, this series of e-mails makes one wonder why the Itanimulli, with all of their technical ability, did not bother to check or even verify this series of e-mails. Maybe their sense of honesty and their morality system did not allow them to consider such possibilities. The translation of the e-mail follows…
Viktor-
Ignore the first paragraph until you read the second paragraph. If you see the code words for double talk in the second paragraph, then you know what to do. Else, assume this is a normal message.
This is double talk. Everything after this is code word material. Give me the solution—technical material—for this problem and compress it using .ZIP format and encrypt it using PGP with the public keys we agreed to.
I want you to solve the following problem, which should be pretty easy for you do solve. I need you to electronically trace the location of some people that are visiting my blog. I’ve got their IP addresses and I need to get an address, hopefully down to a specific street address. If not, that is fine. Use whatever means you need, hopefully legal.
I’ll be sending you the IP addresses in a different file with the usual encryption scheme. Give me a solution as soon as possible.
-Dave]

Email to David King from Viktor Pedarenko
To: [EMAIL ADDRESS DELETED]
From: [EMAIL ADDRESS DELETED]
CC: [NONE]
BCC: [NONE]
Subject: Answer to Computer Repair Question
Dave-
I’ve got your message and thought about your problem. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and given your facts, I don’t think I can come up with a good answer. At best, my answer would not, I believe, satisfactorily answer your question without entering into vagaries and assumptions that may not be valid.
Put simply, I really can’t answer your question. To come up with an answer would require looking at the computer at my house and really digging into the guts. Your facts lead me to believe that I would have to do a thorough examination using equipment that I currently do not possess right now. You would need to send this computer to a certified engineer. They might be able to see what is wrong.
I think I know someone who can solve your problem. He is a friend of a friend of mine and his last name is McVath. He’s a real Scottish hoot. I have his business card and it has his contact information on it. I’m not sure where his business card is right now. I know I have it somewhere, so I’ll send it to you as soon as possible. My room is a mess. I need to clean it up.
Sorry I couldn’t help you with your computer problem. I hope that McVath can help you with your problem.
-Viktor
[Note from Editors: The following is the translation of the e-mail message…
Dave-
Ignore the first paragraph until you read the second paragraph. If you see the code words for double talk in the second paragraph, then you know what to do. Else, assume this is a normal message.
Sorry, but I cannot answer your technical question. Coming up with a solution to the problem you posed is technologically unfeasible with the equipment that I have. It is also illegal as well, as if you haven’t already noticed by now. Don’t fret. I know of someone who might be able to solve your problem as he has the needed equipment and the skills to successfully pull this little, no, massive problem off.
The following is double talk. The person’s name you need to know is Smith. I have all the relevant information you need so you can contact him, but it will be sent in a different file, one that has been encrypted thoroughly. Delete all messages in case that someone might have been able to decode them.
Ignore this paragraph. It means nothing.
-Viktor]

FIVE
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
{ENTRY LOG}
[LAST LOGIN DATE: 10/07/04]
[LAST LOGIN TIME: 09:32:55PM]
[LAST LOGIN NAME: DKing]
[ENTRY TIME: 11:58:01PM]
[LOGIN NAME: DKing]
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11:58:04 PM 10/19/04
I’ve set up an appointment with Smith. He’s supposedly a tech guru who can get into any system he wants to. I think this problem should be no problem at all for him.
Strange man. Devoting his whole life to computers and the phone system. Such focus. It’s almost, pardon my lightness considering my situation, almost not human.
That’s all for now. Must get sleep.

Part Three...A Really Big Post

2006-11-05T16:58:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER THREE: EXCEEDING OUR EXPECTATIONS
“Genius is intensity. The man who gets anything worth having is the man who goes after his object as a bulldog goes after a cat - with every fiber in him tense with eagerness and determination.”
-C. Holman
“There is a real magic in enthusiasm. It spells the difference between mediocrity and accomplishment.”-Norman Vincent Peale
ONE
MCRGES Status Report #29, December 3, 1997 (Earth Time)
To: Council of Elders and Scientific Council
From: Chief of MCRGES
The experiment is continuing as planned. It is too early to make any definite conclusions, but I believe that it is safe to say that this experiment may conclude as being a successful one.
All Agents of Influence conclude that the subject is exceptionally bright (one Agent of Influence, using some human phrases called him “a walking encyclopedia” and “so smart, it’s scary”) and shows a talent for memorization and recall. The younger agents of influence, those in his classes, consider this talent to be impressive, yet quantify these conclusions with unusual statements questioning whether or not he is human but actually an alien in disguise. (This is ironic as he is human, and we are alien.) This may seem to show that he is becoming psychologically unstable, but this is normal human development according to the psychologists we have shaped to be AOIs. This is good, as it shows he has a sense of self worth as a person and is a fully functioning individual.
Because he shows a talent for information memorization and recall, the subject is pursuing school extracurricular activities that emphasize this talent. Extrapolation programs predict that he will be highly successful in this pursuit, assuming the faculty representatives best utilize this talent.
As the worst-case results, the subject will win 75% of the tournaments he enters. At the best-case results, he wins nearly 100% of the tournaments he enter, including the upper level tournaments like State and National level tournaments [Note from Editors: See Note from Editors, Chapter Three, Part Three, Extrapolation Report for a discussion on this topic]. This prediction was made from his previous success in academic-style tournaments. He has won the school level Geography Bee earlier (four straight times), made it to the state level (four straight times) and the National level twice. He has won state honors in academic tests involving subjects like math, chemistry, natural science, physics, English, Spanish, English literature, political science, etc.). I believe that he should prove to be a tour-de-force-a true competitor who will win constantly and convincingly.

TWO
Excerpts from Riverview Times
March 23, 1998
LOCAL SCHOOL EXCELS AT ACADEMIC QUIZ BOWL
By: George Vincent
In high school athletics, they have a mercy rule. Once a team scores a certain amount of points before a certain time, the mercy rule is invoked as to spare the other team the indignity of losing by a preposterous amount. For example, the mercy rule was invoked at the Camden North vs. Camden East football game in 1987 when Camden North was leading Camden East 73 to 0…five minutes into the second quarter. In academic quiz bowl, there is no mercy rule, but the opponents that Riverview High faced this year might want one. Riverview High has been dominant this year.
The coach of the Riverview High Academic Quiz Bowl team, Steven Stone does keep records and they are very meticulous records. Consider the following statistics:

1. Riverview has entered in 24 state-sanctioned tournaments and they have won all 24 of them.
2. They have played a total of 203 rounds and they have won all 203 rounds.
3. They average a total of about 135 points a round. This may not sound impressive, but once you consider that there are only 16 questions each round, with a correct answer worth 10 points, for a total of 160 possible points. They get 84% of the points possible.
4. At this year’s state tournament, they had a perfect 12-0 record. They scored the impressive average of 125 points each round. In the final, they shut out the opposing team.
5. They won Knowledge Bowl by outscoring their opponents by an average of 270 points.
6. They competed in Knowledge Master Open and they were the top team in the state. 7. They outscored the second place team by 568 points.

Everyone on the Riverview High Academic Quiz Bowl team is smart. They all are taking AP level courses and some are taking courses at Riverview University like Organic Chemistry, Russian, and Number Theory. The members of the team, however, consider one member in awe. Even the coach considers this member one of the best he’s seen and he has been a coach for 27 years.
“David King, he’s so smart, he’s scary,” commented Bill Wolfson, a junior at Riverview High. “Once he starts answering questions, he is unstoppable. It’s amazing how much he knows and how fast he can press the button.”
Jessica Berg echoed these comments as well. “He’s fast and he is never wrong.”
Stone commented, “He’s the best I’ve seen, period. He has the speed on the buzzer that is amazing. He has the knowledge up here and buzzer speed to match. At practices, we have 10 on 1 games and King will constantly beat the 10-member team. And that is with a 100 point, sometimes 200 point advantage to the 10 member team.”
When asked if he would like King to be on the team in the future, Stone laughed. “Are you kidding? You’d be crazy not to have in on your team. He simply is the best.”
We tried to ask King some questions at a recent team practice, but he was too busy answering questions. And he was correctly answering them.

March 25, 1999
RIVERVIEW ACADEMIC QUIZ TEAM: TWO IN A ROW
By: Sam Thompson
Riverview High’s Academic Quiz Bowl team continued their dominance in quiz bowl competitions by winning the State Tournament for the second time in a row. In addition to winning the State tournament, the team won Knowledge Bowl and was the state’s top team in Knowledge Master Open. It was the second Triple Crown in Academic Quiz Bowl.
The Riverview Team that successfully defended their title at State and at Knowledge Bowl consisted of David King, junior; Bill Wolfs, senior; Nathan Richardson, senior; Karl Bjornsen, junior; and Patrick Young, senior.
“Some of the games were really close,” joked Richardson. “I mean, we were only ahead by only seventy points in some rounds. But David did his usual performance.”
“I was a little off this year, a little slow. I guess that doing Number Theory homework sort of was overkill. We still won. The school might need a new trophy case,” said King, referring to the plaques from State and regional, as well as the Knowledge Bowl traveling trophy sitting on a table nearby. “The other plaques the team won, I’m not sure where they’ll go.”
When asked if he would predict what his final year would be like, King said, “We’re going out on top as a Triple Crown winner.”
Stone was more cautious. “I wouldn’t guarantee another Triple Crown, but it’s very likely. We’ve got King and Bjornsen coming back and we’ve got a good pool of talent. It will be a good year.”

March 22, 2000
RIVERVIEW ACADEMIC QUIZ TEAM: THREE-PEAT
By: Franklin Brooks
Riverview High’s Academic Quiz Bowl team continued their dominance in quiz bowl competitions by winning the State Tournament for the third time in a row. In addition to winning the State tournament, the team won Knowledge Bowl and was the state’s top team in Knowledge Master Open. With this, they have now won Triple Crown in Academic Quiz Bowl three times in a row.
The Riverview Team that successfully defended their title for the third time at State and at Knowledge Bowl consisted of David King, senior; Jesse Dean, junior; Ian Vinson, junior; Karl Bjornsen, senior; and Levi Janstead, sophomore.
“We had another excellent year in Academic Quiz Bowl this year,” said Steven Stone. “The pieces fell into place this year. David King was the cornerstone this year.”
Bjornsen and Dean echoed this sentiment. “This is one of the best years of Academic Quiz Team we’ve had. Even better than last year,” said Bjornsen. “I have to agree. In addition to making it a triple-Triple [Crown], we’re competing in a national competition.”
“The National Academic Quiz Tournament is a great thing to happen to this team. We’ll have the opportunity to compete against the best high school teams in the nation,” said Stone. “In order to get there, we will have to raise funds. If you would like to donate, that would be great. The team has worked hard and this would be a great reward for them, going to the High School NAQT.”
The High School NAQT for 2000 will be held in Atlanta, Georgia.
Donations should be made to Steven Stone at Riverview High School.

THREE
MCRGES Status Report #47, April 6, 2003 (Earth Time)
To: Council of Elders and Scientific Council
From: Chief of MCRGES
The experiment is continuing as planned. It is too early to make any definite conclusions, but I believe that it is safe to say that this experiment may conclude as being a successful one.
The subject is currently in college and given his high school record, his academic success in college is not a surprise. At this moment, we expect him to pursue a post-graduate degree. Our agents of influence at the college are suggesting that he go to law school given his analytic skills. The A&OP Department, using their extrapolation program (their newest one), state that there is a 97.34% probability that he will enter into law school after he graduates from college.
(ADDED IN MANUSCRIPT)
We have heard from our agents of influence that the subject has signed up for the Law School Entrance Exam (LSAT) and has begun the process of signing up for various law schools. The A&OP Department’s extrapolation program is excellent. I believe it can be used in other fields.
-SMERLON

CHAPTER FOUR: FOR ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE
“Facts don't cease to exist because they are ignored.”
-Aldous Huxley
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound of fury,
Signifying nothing.”
-Macbeth, Macbeth, Act V, Scene v, 24-28
“Though this be madness, yet there is method in it.”
-Polonius, Hamlet, Act II, Scene ii, 205-206
ONE
Entry in David King’s Electronic Journal (Decrypted)
[Note from Editors: This is a confusing and most perplexing document about how Mr. King knew that the Itanimulli, or as he refers to them in this document and later documents, “They,” were involving him in an experiment. How he discovered this plot and the shadowy agents of influence is amazing. One could interpret this in several ways. The first way, is that he is obviously suffering from a psychological problem like paranoid schizophrenia, came up with this theory, and in an amazing coincidence, is soon discovered to be right in all aspects. The second option is that he discovered this plan in some mysterious way. How, we are not sure. His later documents do not explain how he knew since childhood. He never has told anyone how he knew and when asked, he has a strange smile on his face and he states, “I just knew it and I don’t know how to explain it.” From this behavior, one can surmise his is hiding something, though one cannot absolutely conclude he is lying in any way. We will never know and nobody, it seems, will ever know, unless some document shows up.
One also has to wonder why the Itanimulli, with all of their technology, never considered to break into his computer to see if Mr. King had any other secret documents. According to the Itanimulli, that would have been a violation of the Non-Integration Treaty they speak so much about. It is confusing logic and other Itanimulli documents have proven to be unhelpful. No Itanimulli we talked to could explain this logic. We can safely conclude that the logic involved in this decision was based upon personal standards.]
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3:18:57 PM 09/21/04
I’ve resorted to typing my private thoughts into a text file on the laptop computer that I bought last year. It’s been double encrypted with two passwords using a 1024-bit encryption algorithm based upon RSA and PGP.
Why am I using this elaborate security at a paranoid level of encryption for such a meaningless file? One that has my private thoughts? Thoughts that nobody really cares that much about? It’s because of Them, actually They.
“They.” That sounds like the nameless enemy that people with crippling paranoid delusions have. The nameless enemy that inhabits their mind. The nameless ones that are always planning against them. You know, before this, I would have considered this crazy. But now that I know that they exist in real life, and they don’t exist in my mind, I can’t laugh anymore.
Ever since I was young, I knew what I was. I was sure of myself. I knew that life was worthwhile and worth living to the fullest. I was at peace with myself and the world I was living in. I was good and I knew life was good. My mistake was that everyone-the creatures around me were like myself. Those creatures I am referring to are children. But they are part of the plot that involves me. And only me.
I knew nothing about violence or viciousness until I met them. Those little devils that were put in my life to make it hard. To destroy my perfect sense of the world, the way it was meant to be if I was in control. They were different. Sure, they looked like me-that is, human-but they were different in some way. They were not like me, as least mentally.
If I tried to say anything that mattered to me, at least to those demons, they would just stare at me and laugh out loud. Then they would find some way of punishing me for having said whatever I said. The physical hits, the screaming, the teasing, and the taunts of being called a nerd, an egghead. It was the supposedly normal behavior of children. But I knew the difference. They were there to change my personality, to make me be like everyone else of my age. They, the nameless ones, the ones that are involving me in some experiment, are telling them to do this to me. I know it.
And then, there are the adults. They are playing a role in this experiment. I never thought about them while I was a young child. Adults don’t matter to children, at least not in the beginning. We are not that important, despite their fawning behavior, their assurances that children matter and that children are important. They were busy with things that matter little to children. It was only when I grew up did I notice that adults were playing a role in the experiment.
Adults. They do different things. When I was around, they did one certain action, but when I entered the picture, they did a different action, one completely different action. How do I know this? By watching and listening. I would catch them stopping when I was around. One minute, they are talking about something important. When I would walk in, they would stop, appear guilty, look around, and then they would talk about a foolish topic. Something about the weather and how nice it was and how it was terrible during the weekend. When I hid, they would resume talking about their mysterious topic. Things I did not understand, but something that was very important. Something involving me in some way. I knew it instinctively.
As an adult, I know that adults consider children strange in some way and that children should be protected from adult matters. It’s the way of life. They are part of an unwritten code of convention. But it’s not enough. There was something wrong. I had to find out.
After much listening and talking and watching, I found out what the discrepancy was that bothered me for so long. People talked about things, and people did things, but these things were not important. What they were doing, what they must be doing, was important.
They wanted me to follow a basic pattern, one that never changed substantially. I was told to do well in school to get a good education to get a good job so that I could get paid good money to buy good food to get strength to wake up the next day to go to the good job to get paid good money to buy good food to get strength to wake up the next day-this cycle repeating itself day after day until I died. If the pattern changed, the end result was the same. Everyone ended up dead. Everyone was telling me to follow this basic pattern of working and eating, working and eating until I fell over dead.
I know you’re saying right now, “Life does look it is futile, and you know what, it just might be futile. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Even if it is that way, this is the only life that we are given. Just enjoy it as much as possible. Make the most out of it. Live like you were going to die the next day. Be a damn Epicurean.” Can I eat, drink, and be merry and forget about this matter?
You know what, I could do live life that way. But I know that it is all a giant sham, a huge artifice to sufficiently confuse me. Just like Shakespeare said, “All the world’s a stage and we are all merely players.” All these people, this motley swarm are just actors. They have a rhyme and reason to be here, not just make meaningless noises at each other.
There has to be a meaning to this. There has to be some meaningful explanation, not some damn meaningless babble. I’m not going to believe that I’m waiting for Godot and this is an existentialist sham. It must be an insanely complex plan. It has to be planned.
I know what the plan is for me, just only me. I am special in some way, but I just don’t know how. I just know. It’s an instinct.
It’s kind of like Shakespeare. It’s a play to divert me, to confuse me, to make me busy so I can’t think about what this giant mess is all about. All these tiny details are microscopic red herrings to lead me away from the true meaning of why this is being done. Everyone is part of this plan, every one I see is a part of the plan. A lot of you are a just puppet, mindless robots without any sense. They just do what they are told. No thinking at all.
But there are the important people, the real agents of influence, and the ones who have specific roles in this plan. They have power. They are the true conspirators. There has to be some troubleshooters out there who force me to play the role I’ve been given. I’m not going to play this role. I am going to be independent from them. I know I will.
It’s part of a conspiracy. I know I have been chosen for special attention. It can’t be a joke on everyone. I’m the only victim.
All of the creatures, the controllers, the agents of influence, have been set up to look like me. I can’t prove it, but I can find a way. They’re here to prevent me to from knowing that I am the center of their arrangements. I am the center of the universe. This is the key fact.
I am the only sole individual. There aren’t millions like me. I can’t communicate with the other millions or billions. I try to communicate my thoughts and I get wrong answers, confusing contradictions, meaningless words. The millions are just shells. Empty shells.
The best I can do? I will do as Hamlet does. I won’t feign madness, though what I write about sounds like madness. Pure and simple madness. No, I shall use Hamlet’s strategy that Shakespeare writes about. I shall make them think what I want them to think. I will let them assume. I will pretend to play along, to pretend to be docile.
They will think I am unaware of their ambush, their tactics to get me back into the fold they want me in. But no, I will circle around and ambush them. And when I do, they will be in for a very big surprise. That I guarantee.
What will I write about publicly to fool them? I think I will catch them like any good fisherman. Toss out a cunningly crafted piece of bait. When they bite, I will snare them and reel them in. The best bait? Casually talk about their plan. Yes, talk about the one that I shouldn’t know about. Toss it around, pretending to be blind, as if I don’t know. Just as a joke.
Let’s see how They react to this monkey wrench tossed into their plans. I can just imagine what would happen. They aren’t going to win this round.
At best, just like a game of chess, I win with a checkmate. At worse, instead of a win, I end up with a stalemate with neither side winning. There might be many stalemates before one side breaks down strategically and loses. I can handle a stalemate…forever.
Hamlet said it best (English major speaking here):
For ‘tis the sport to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petard.
-Hamlet, Act III, Scene iv, 213-214
I’m going to blow them up with their own weapons. It’s going to be fun.

TWO
“The Meaning of Life”
As a former Philosophy major (as well as English) in college, there were many basic questions that we tried to find the answers to. These were the really deep questions that have fueled the greatest minds in civilization. Questions so fundamental that no matter the country the person was born in, no matter the background the person was born into, no matter what beliefs they followed, people have consistently asked these questions. From the beginning of human history, all the way to today, and all the way until the end of time.
The question that has nagged everyone-including myself-has been “What is the meaning of life.” Yes, the question that people think every philosopher devotes their entire life to answer. It’s true. Philosophers spend a lot of time trying to answer this question. I’m one of them, though it’s now an amateur hobby that I do when I have free time and not my entire life. Despite asking myself this question, I haven’t figured this one out. Every major religion has tried to give some meaning to this question. Nobody has come up with a satisfactory answer that everyone can agree completely to.
It seems like that everyone in human history has tried to find the meaning of life. Whether the person is a philosopher, a poet, a mythical ordinary every man, they have tried to define life in terms that people will understand. The definitions and explanations for what life is have ranged from the amazingly philosophical to the sublimely ridiculous.
Forrest Gump, in a bit of homespun Southern wisdom, stated that “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” This is an apt and simple meaning for life, but it seems to be lacking in a way. Sure, it seems that you never know what you’re going to get in life. If you, however, look in most boxes of chocolates, you might notice the little diagram they include. The one that tells you what chocolates are which and what fillings they have inside.
There is also an industry chocolate code. The little squiggles on the top and the shape of the chocolate also tells you what is inside. Technically, you can tell what you’re going to get. The only problem is that you might want the caramel nut, but you get stuck with a chocolate you hate. For me, it’s the vanilla cream center. I absolutely hate it. If you over think it, you know what you’re going to get it life and in the end, you get stuck with something you will loathe.
Douglas Adams, the famed science-fiction/fantasy writer, humorously stated in one of his books, that the meaning of life was 42. His meaning for life, at first glance, seems to be ridiculous. This definition for life makes no sense what so ever. What does “42”or any number have to do with the meaning of life. It should be something vaguely related to Zen or at the least, deeply philosophical.
But examine his meaning of life a little deeper. It truly is an accurate meaning for life. The answer is just like the question: absolutely meaningless. It’s akin to the old Zen koan asking if a cow or any animal in general has Buddha sense. The answer to the Zen koan, “MOO,” is a ridiculous answer to a ridiculous question. Why bother trying to discover the meaning of life? To sum, there are much better things to do like living life to the fullest.
Shakespeare, in his plays, said that the world was a stage and we are merely players in life. We all accept various roles as we age. Which seems to be valid. After all, as we progress through life, as we age, we become children and then teenagers and then adults. We take on the role as students, sons and daughters, possibly parents and grandparents. We have jobs-the average person change occupations at least eight times in life. And we accept them smoothly in general. Sometimes, not so smoothly. But, in the end, we go and accept them. After all, it is just another part, another role we play. There are so many roles to play in our lives, some of these roles we play at the same time. How to play both roles skillfully can prove to be a massive problem, a total headache.
Like the other metaphors, there seems to be a fundamental problem with this poetic description of the world, the people that live in the world and life in general. If we are all merely actors as Shakespeare writes, and the world is a stage, then we are all following some kind of plot that has been determined earlier by some unknown person. Whether or not this plot is a well-scripted plot or a poorly scripted (even non-existent) plot, does not matter at all. Everything, including what we do, what we say, is not done by us with some kind of free will. It’s all planned for us. Just follow the script and things will be fine. Sure, some amount of ad-libbing and personal freedom is allowed, but it is very little. To think that all our actions have been pre-planned is disturbing. It goes against what most western minds think. We can’t change what will happen next. Nothing we do can change what will happen. It is the will of God, Allah, or some deity/deities up in the higher reaches.
Hmm…that would be an interesting question. What if Shakespeare and everyone else who have had this similar idea were right? What if the world was an elaborately designed stage with all the buildings and trees and everything else created just to make the ruse seem real? What if everything we did was elaborately scripted and we are all actors or worse, puppets controlled by some higher power of some sort, not necessarily God? But let’s take that to an extreme degree. You’re the only person that exists in this fantasy world. The only independent person there. Everyone else is there to get you to conform and follow an established set of behavior. One giant conspiracy and you are the sole focus of this conspiracy against you. Yes, it is one person against the entire world. I’m not sure how I would deal with that type of situation. I’d feel much better if everyone was part of this delusion.
Those of you out there in electronic world might be thinking, “There he goes again. He’s just like the stereotypical philosophy major. Thinking too much and not doing enough living life. What’s the point of asking this question? You’re over thinking everything. Do something else.”
You’re absolutely right. I am thinking about this question way too much. But it’s just the way I am and the way my mind thinks and the way I act. I can’t change that.
It’s time to study for a test tomorrow. Income taxation. Why did I ever decide to go to law school after graduating from college? I seriously should have done something different. You know, I think that I should have gone to California to be a stand up comic. Why I didn’t decide to do something else, I’m not sure. It seems like a waste of talent to be a lawyer when I could do something else…something I enjoy.
God, it is going to be a long night.
That’s it for today. Stay tuned for another rambling from the edge.
Posted By DKing on 09/21/04 at 11:53PM, CDT

Part Two

2006-11-03T05:55:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER TWO: EARLY HISTORY
“The unexamined life is not worth living”
-Socrates
“Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.”
-Douglas Adams
“No man is ever old enough to know better.”
-Holbrook Jackson
ONE
Mind Manipulation Department Status Report, February 8, 1982 (Earth Time)
To: Chief of MCRGES
From: Head of Mind Manipulation Department
We have arrived on Earth and the necessary equipment was located where it was expected. The delivery crew was extremely professional and should be commended for their accuracy as well as their punctuality.
Once we arrived at Riverview and got settled, we began Stage One of the Mind Manipulation section of the experiment. Our agents began the process of reconnaissance, identifying potential agents of control that will best influence the test subject. We decided that since the subject was in his early formative years according to Earth standards, we would choose people in his elementary school. As he progresses in age and in the local educational system, we will change the agents of influence to suit his developmental stage in life. Full descriptions of suitable agents of control while he is in elementary school are enclosed in the attachment to this status report.
After careful analysis, we believe that the people mentioned in the enclosed attachment will prove to be the best agents of influence. They shall suitably manipulate the subject’s way of thinking towards the goals MCRGES have set out.
-Glaron
ENCL: Agents of Influence List

Analysis and Operations Planning Department Status Report, February 8, 1982 (Earth Time)
To: Chief of MCRGES
From: Head of Analysis and Operations Planning Department
We have arrived on Earth and the necessary equipment was located without any problems. The equipment arrived in excellent physical condition.
After searching around Riverview and the surrounding environs, we have located a perfect site to hold all of this equipment, as well as set up the main headquarters for A&OP. It is a warehouse located outside of city limits. There were some difficulties with the unusual practice that humans call “bargaining.” Once we began to understand this Earth process, we bargained with the warehouse owner [Note from Editors: To most readers, his is confusing as it can be inferred from previous documents that the Itanimulli have had an interest in Earth for a while and they have been monitoring the planet--i.e. newspapers and so forth. Why they would not understand “bargaining” is unusual. After reading several other Itanimulli documents, we have found that the concept of “bargaining” is considered deceptive on their planet and therefore, is not used] and obtained the warehouse at a much lower price than expected. The warehouse, once cleaned, can be modified to a more useful configuration.
There is, however, a problem. In your experiment proposal, there is a section marked “Physical Environmental Factors.” Sadly, we cannot proceed in planning operations or even begin to analyze data until we receive a report from the Physical Environment Group. We have not heard from them since arriving on Earth.
Despite this inconvenience, this division is ahead of schedule and is beginning the implementation of Stage Two of A&OP Experiment Schedule.
-Praxitel

Secure Communications to Head of Physical Environment Group, February 20, 1982 (Earth Time)
To: Head of Physical Environment Group
From: Chief of MCRGES
Where is your report you should have sent to the A&OP Department? Also, where is your Status Report for me? It is two weeks late!
-Smerlon

Response from Head of Physical Environment Group, March 1, 1982 (Earth Time)
To: Chief of MCRGES
The delay is regretted and will not happen again. The scientists we have sent to analyze the physical environment are suffering from sensory overload. They are overwhelmed by the erratic climate of this sector of Earth. It is a very unusual place. One minute, it is cold and wet with frozen precipitation called snow and another form called sleet; the next, it is warm and sunny. Quite confusing. I dread to discover what may happen in what the humans call spring. We have sent our report to A&OP just one Earth day ago and according to the head of A&OP Department, they have begun the analysis.

TWO
Mind Control Research Group Earth Station (MCRGES) Status Report #11, September 2, 1988 (Earth Time)
To: Council of Elders and Scientific Council
From: Smerlon, Chief of MCRGES
I humbly and gratefully thank the Council of Elders for granting me the opportunity to head MCRGES as well as granting me permission to conduct my experiment. In addition, I also humbly and gratefully thank the Scientific Council for believing in my experiment.
Everything is going according to plans. The subject of our experiment is progressing nicely in his early education. He has exceeded all of our expectations. According to Agent of Influence #14312, King has taken IQ tests and has scored in the super-genius level. He has skipped two grade levels and may be advanced to the third grade. He, however, according to his parents, both having their minds modified to follow our suggestions, is studying mathematics reserved for high school students.
There may be some problems with his social development. Because he is so bright intellectually, using Earth standards, the younger agents of influence—the children we have developed—as well as non-agents of influence, resort to verbal and physical taunts. I believe that despite having a possible negative influence on his social development—causing him to become excessively reclusive—he should develop in the regular fashion. It might influence him to follow the proposed suggestions much more readily. The Analysis and Operations Department will conduct more detailed analysis on this and will extrapolate the most likely results.

THREE
Excerpts from A&OP Department Extrapolation Report
TOP SECRET
ANALYSIS AND OPERATIONS PLANNING DEPARTMENT
EXTRAPOLATION REPORT #00013-MCR192-18367TSD
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[Note from Editors: This warning printed on the cover page for the A&OP Department Extrapolation Report sounds very similar to warnings printed on classified documents written on this planet. It is interesting to note that despite being from an alien planet, certain aspects in government never really do seem to change from planet to planet.]
The following document, EXTRAPOLATION REPORT #00013-MCR192-48367TSD has been formally classified as TOP SECRET. The classification has been determined according to the regulations set by Itanimulli Document Classification Level Standards DSD-903.7(f)(1)(B). This document is not meant to be photocopied, reproduced, distributed, or disseminated by any means outside of those personnel that are authorized to see this document according to 9A Itanimulli Statutes and Codes Section 3041. Any violations of this statute will be punishable according to 30 Itanimulli Statutes and Codes Section 701 by the Itanimulli Judicial Council.
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I. INTRODUCTION
This report is to analyze whether or not psychological and verbal taunts by agents of influence the same age as the subject will result in negative social development characterized by extreme social introversion or a tendency to avoid social contact with people.
Negative social development like Earth conditions of social introversion—the tendency to avoid social contact with people—is not common among Itanimulli. In fact, according to all Itanimulli psychological journals and studies, such mental conditions are nonexistent. This is due to the high quality and to the technological advancements in Itanimulli pharmacological substances and psychological therapy. Going into depth and detail describing such differences would be unnecessary and much too lengthy for this extrapolation report. In addition, describing the standard Earth treatments for mental disorders in full technical detail would be unnecessary and much too lengthy for this extrapolation report as well for obvious reasons.
[Note from Editors: We have removed certain sections of this lengthy report because including all of the information would have been lengthy and unnecessary. Nothing informative or relevant has been lost from the deletion of certain information. For example, the rest of the introduction was removed as it described standard Earth treatments for mental disorders in technical detail, thereby taking up nearly twenty pages.]
[This section has been deleted.]
II. METHODOLOGY USED
[This section has been deleted.]
III. DETAILS FROM TEST RESULTS
A. Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI)
The MMPI has gone through several revisions to make the test more modern so that it the test was up to date as to reflect the issues that did not concern the psychologists of the 1940s, the date the test was first made. After carefully testing the test, psychologists and statisticians restandardized the test to resemble results that accurately resemble the current mix of age, sex, race, and education of the United States as a whole. We asked the test giver, Agent of Influence AOI-4PSY—the school guidance counselor and psychologist—to give the latest version. AOI-4PSY complied with this request.
[Note from Editors: This section has been deleted as it is not needed. We have just saved you from reading at least thirty pages of information that is not needed to understand the meaning of this report.]
According to the test results, the subject has a higher level of social introversion than most children of his age do, but not at a level that would indicate a definite diagnosis of said psychological disorder. Given the possibility that the subject might be lying, the special lie-scale results were checked and they were at normal levels. Therefore, one can conclude that the subject was not lying while taking the test.
D. Rorschach Inkblot Test
Since the previous tests are easy to score, yet highly restrictive in the answers one can give on them, we asked AOI-4PSY to give several projective tests, or tests that permit an unlimited range of responses. This type of test is not foolproof, as most subjects do not respond well to these tests when asked certain questions like “Tell me about yourself.” Such invitations, when made by psychologists, strangely, according to Earth researchers, do not produce any response except lengthy periods of silence followed by, normally, an embellished or untruthful response. Most humans respond by telling an embellished version of the facts that make them look better, or in some cases, more psychologically deviant. This depends on the situation and other factors that somehow bother the human mind in crafting responses.
The assumption of this test, is that by being given vague instructions and 10 cards that have randomly shaped ink blots, the subject will respond by telling the psychologist a significant part of ones personality in some meaningful way. The psychologist records everything the subject does—including eye blinks, length of pauses, and so forth.
[This information has been deleted. See above for reasons why.]
The subject’s responses to the Rorschach Inkblot Test were standard responses for a child of his age. They were the exact responses that all psychologists receive from psychologically normal people. The psychologist believes that the subject might have read a psychology manual about Rorschach Inkblot Tests and memorized standard responses. The coincidence is too good to be just a mere coincidence but suggestive of implying cheating. This response is telling in one way: the subject wants to appear normal so he does not feel left out. One can assume that he is left out and he feels different from his peers. This suggests that the subject might be suffering from social introversion, but according to AOI-4PSY, this kind of behavior is normal for children.
Again, as with earlier tests, the results are highly suggestive of social introversion, but not at a level that may lead to extreme social developmental problems.
IV. SUGGESTIONS FOR YOUNGER AGENTS OF INFLUENCE
According to AOI-4PSY, it is common for children of the age of the school-aged agents of influence to engage in physical and verbal taunts, especially when it comes to pointing out children that are, in some way, “different” than them. By “different,” this term is used in many ways and with many definitions, as depending on the situation it is used in.
Humans do not grow out of this behavior, but engage in more passive-aggressive ways of taunting those that are different. The worst offenders engage in physical violence that can lead more mentally unstable humans to lash out violently and end up injuring or killing others.
The younger agents of influence should end up tiring of this behavior. If they do not grow out of it, AOI-4PSY suggest that these agents of influence should go to psychologist where a diagnosis of a mental condition will lead to chemical and psychological therapy. This therapy will cure such mental afflictions and reduce it to a level that will not stunt social development that will seriously affect their adult life.
Our extrapolation program suggests this course of action. In addition to this course of action, it has prescribed the exact therapy that will lead to the best mental state for this experiment to succeed. The diagnosis and prescribed course of therapy is listed below:
[DAGNOSIS AND COURSE OF THERAPY INFORMATION DELETED]
The Rorschach test has come up with a helpful diagnosis, one that should please you immensely. AOI-4PSY states that the results of the test show that the subject is extremely resilient psychologically and has a well-defined sense of self. This should negate any negative psychological damage caused by the constant taunting. AOI-4PSY believes that such mental toughness will prove to be helpful in the future. Some coaxing to engage in more social situations may be needed, but such training should not prove to be too hard to implement. Examples are listed below:
[SUGGESTIONS DELETED]
[REST OF SECTION III DELETED]
IV. CONCLUSIONS
After having the subject take standard Earth psychological and personality tests, along with more advanced Itanimulli psychological testing, we have come to the conclusion that any serious risks of negative social development are unfounded. There is a less than 0.0015 percent chance [Note from Editors: How they managed to calculate this figure with such a high level of accuracy is beyond our comprehension. We are of the mind that this figure is obviously made up to make their report sound more scientific] that such serious risks of negative social development will happen any time in the near future (within 20 Earth years).
The subject may possibly suffer from a minor avoidant personality disorder and possibly, a schitzotypal personality disorder, but this is nothing to worry about. The schitzotypal personality disorder is common with those people who show extreme creativity like Mozart and other creative persons. People with avoidant personality disorder can grow up and be successful people. Despite the low probability of serious negative social development, we should closely monitor his mental condition.
-Praxitel

FOUR
MCRGES Status Report #17, April 17, 1990 (Earth Time)
To: Council of Elders and Scientific Council
From: Chief of MCRGES
The experiment is progressing very well, despite some unexpected problems. Not understanding the mind of humans can be problematic. This, however, does not mean that we will violate the Treaty written by Sardigon. [Note from Editors: Why he is taking the moral high road seems contradictory. He and his staff have already begun to think like humans and have acted like humans in order to not be discovered as being an alien. Isn’t being on the planet already enough of a violation of the Treaty? Again, why this is not a violation is due to personal standards of a violation and not based upon any law or standards. This can be, for an Earth-related example, compared to the old Earth television series Star Trek (and the related spin offs like Next Generation, Voyager, Deep Space Nine, Enterprise) and the Prime Directive where there would be no interaction with alien races that may change or alter their way of life and so forth. The crew violated it every episode and found a way out of such violation.] The staff, quite understandably, would like to better delve into the minds of humans, but I have strictly told them not to delve too deeply into this subject, but to strictly stay in the mindset of the neutral observer. To solve this problem, I have imposed strict guidelines. Any serious violators of the non-integration policy shall be sent back to Itanimullis as quickly as possible for an appropriate punishment. [Note from Editors: In reality, the amount of punishment given to people who violate the Itanimulli Non-Integration Treaty is very minor, despite the high and reverent level of importance the Itanimulli give this law. In general, the punishment is the equivalent of a slap on the wrist. It is a few mind modification sessions and a small fine.]
The subject is following the course of action that we are influencing him to follow. He is obtaining the highest grades in his classes and is the school’s gifted program. In addition, while in the school’s gifted program, he is independently designing a course of study that fits in with his advanced mental intelligence, which according to the school’s gifted counselor, is in her estimation based upon IQ tests, “less than one in a hundred million.” His social development is normal despite the taunting from children, including the younger Agents of Influence. He shows some sign of social introversion, but it is minor.
We expect the most out of this subject and he is exceeding the expectations we are setting for him. He shall be an exceptional person and an extrapolation is not needed to determine this.