"I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes. That way I wouldn't have to have any goddam stupid useless conversations with anybody. If anybody wanted to tell me something, they'd have to write it on a piece of paper and shove it over to me. They'd get bored as hell doing that after a while, and then I'd be through with having conversations for the rest of my life."
It's quite cold today.
The sun is sleeping under several feet of cloud blankets, and you can finally see your breath in the air when you go outside. It's raining today, and if it's quiet enough, you can sort of hear each car swishing by, and then some people laughing these sort of muffled laughs.
We don't have indoor-hot-air-machines, so my feet are cold again, but I don't quite mind that. I'd much rather have cold feet than sweaty feet. It kind of reminds me of those nights back in the states when I would stay up all alone to type my blog, anyways.
I haven't typed up any serious posts in a while, stories, stuff, but I came up with a few ideas over at my grandparents' house as I mused over the whole idea of video games. I'm thinking perhaps I could write a short story sometime about a video game creator who creates such a beautiful world in his games, with these amazing people that you would just fall in love with at first sight. And people are concerned, because so many people love his games so much they don't ever want to come out into this horrible reality. In the end, he figures he'd make the game even more realistic, because our reality is whatever stimuli we perceive through our senses, and it wouldn't be any different from reality if it was as real as reality, would it? Our brains could be fed memories and hooked up to a machine without our knowing, but what difference would it make if this were the case?
It was a stupid idea, though, so I figured I'd give the programmer a sort of obsession with an object, which he plays with at the end, symbolizing something, but I couldn't quite figure out what. I thought perhaps I could give him a robot arm, his favorite thing in the world, something his parents hated, and....
Perhaps the story could be about a boy who had a sort of disease, a schizophrenic boy who wanted a sort of device attached to his brain to control his dopamine flow. His parents would be Christian Scientists who adamantly opposed that operation. At 18, he decided to get the operation anyway, but upon waking up, his personality had completely changed because of his change in brain chemistry, and his parents were convinced he had been possessed by some sort of ghost in the machine. For the rest of his life, he works on encoding his personality into a computer, until he finally creates a program that thinks it's him, with all his memories. Upon his death, the program finds its way into a robot who walks to his parents' house. There, he asks his parents what consciousness was. If the program thought it was conscious and thought it had feelings and behaved as if it did, did they have any right to say it wasn't conscious? If it was conscious, what need did anyone have for the concept of a "soul"? And then I would have the boy kill his parents in a manner somehow related to his childhood schizophrenia, involving some object he was obsessed with that could somehow symbolize the mechanical nature of life.
But at this point, the whole story reeked of the second episode of Stand Alone Complex.
So then, perhaps a story about time...
Perhaps I could have a story about a yokai who falls in love with a girl, and each chapter could be a day in his immortal life as the world and the girl grow older and older and older......
I like the Stand Alone Complex one, actually.
