3.3 Electromagnetic Theory

The Tarmac broadened to become a road with faint traces of a white line down its centre.
They crested a blind rise and the valley below was revealed to harbour a small town picturesque.
“Welcome to Nullenvoid” said Cajones, “I’m gonna have to leave you to your own devices from here on in.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Atom looked at the cat with little wide eyes, “I don’t know anybody down there.”
“mmm” Cajones sat, his tail described an inverted hook, “You’ll be fine, or maybe not. It’s time for your Induction.”
“Induction? You mean like using rotating magnetic fields to transfer electricity from one place to another?^[3]”
“?”
Atom shrugged, “I dunno where this stuff comes from”
Cajones thought for a while “It may be closer to the truth than you know”
“Whatchu mean?”
“This is where they attempt to transfer their shit into you”

^[3]Editor’s Note: We can only surmise that Atom has dredged up some rudimentary memory of basic electrical theory; presumably Faraday’s Law which explains not only how electrical motors and generators work but also how the battery in your electric toothbrush is charged.

3.2 The Powers That Be

“I thought you said you were taking me to the others?” said Atom as he attempted to shake the puddle-mud-water from his now not-so-shiny new shoes.
“I am taking you to the others,” Cajones replied, shaking a (possibly imagined) molecule of water from his paw, “you’ll have to be patient, it’s been a while since we played this game and I’m not sure that I remember all the rules.”
“Rules? Game?”
“Rules. There’s always rules, even when they say there aren’t any,” Cajones walked away from the hotel, following a wide overgrown track of crumbling tarmac, “This is a game little man, and you (and I) are counters, avatars, pawns - best not to forget that.”
“In fact,” he looked back at Atom, “They never do say that there are rules, they leave you to discover the boundaries by yourself, boundaries that they generally patrol with pain. It would appear that the PTB has no room for subtlety.”
“Sometimes,” said atom, jogging to keep pace, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You will, but don’t let it worry you; just remember that if you find that you’ve never run into the boundaries of authority then you really must try harder.”

Metal Guru

Karol Bak

A diesel engine throbs in the blackness of morning silence
Fumes hit the buttons that transport you through time
To another morning in another life on the other side of the world

Polarised filings of past endeavour viewed through the prism of age
Filigree flavours remembered on perfumed timelines
Lubricate the cusp of the wave called now

The cold bites your mind through the soles of your boots
The morning is a sacrificial anode for your future self
A fact that cannot ally your shivering nor still your racing heart

Polaroid snapshots viewed through panes of obscured glass
These fragile anchors hold you fast against the maelstrom
The present keeps moving intangible mercurial metallic

Voices chant in the blackness of morning solitude
Mist hangs low in the field below the high school
Everything tastes of yesterday

3.1 The Origin of Poetry

il Vaso di Pandora ~ Rene Magritte

The muddy puddle that formed the hotel’s front approach seemed, to Atoms sky-pointed nose, to have a faint tinge of neglect about it. The sky reflected a pale blue in his eyes.
“It’s bigger than It sounds like in my memory,” he said, “The sky, I mean; it seems to go on for ever.”
“Hum, very poetic” Said Cajones
“I’ve never understood what that means,” said Atom, marvelling once again at the complexity of yellow in Cajones’ eyes, “Poe attic… sounds like the murder scene in some horror story told by a scary bloke with one bulging eye.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a species thing,” said Cajones, ruffling the fur at his nape, “Poetry was developed by the ancient cats, the ones that didn’t have to rely on your lot for food.”
“bullshit” said Atom with unconvincing conviction.
“’s true; another one of our many skills, think about it: our thirst for knowledge so strong that we will eat spiders just to know what they taste like (actually you can get quite a good buzz off some of those spiders); the silence required to live among you unnoticed (unless we chose to be noticed); the ability to convey the beauty of the kill with grace; that’s poetry.”
Cajones skirted the muddy puddle in two arcs of ginger then stopped to wait for Atom on the other side.

∞.2 Mad Scientist's Notebook

Entry No. Seven-Hundred-Thousand-and-Fuck-Knows.

I’m inclined to think that the large proportion of those who swim in the waters of this ethereal experience that we call technology; who return to these nodes again and again; do so simply as a result of their medication (prescribed or otherwise).
I don’t seek to divorce myself from the above only to take notice of it.

Introspection ~ Max Sauco

2.5 A Sense of Proportion

Mr Monkey ~ Vinicius Quesada

On descending the threadbare staircase they found a man behind the reception desk; a small badge pinned to his breast announce him to be DESK CLERK.
Atom could not decide whether this was the man’s name or his function; what, he asked himself, can a desk do that would generate enough paperwork to warrant a clerk?.
The desk clerk stopped whistling to ask “Yes sir? Can I help with anything?” Then tilting his head to the side as if listening with one ear only (the other perhaps content to wax lyrical to its owner on the benefits of aural hygiene) he raised his eyebrow in Atom’s direction..
“Um… are…there any messages for me?” the end of Atom’s question rose hopefully.
The desk clerk shifted with discomfort and made a charade of checking the pigeonholes behind him then bending to check behind the desk, opening and shutting drawers, lifting his shiny-shoe encased feet to check their soles.
“No sir, no messages” he sighed.
“Never mind him” said Cajones, “If you want to know anything, ask me.”
“Every time I ask you something I end up with ten more questions”
Atom made for the revolving door; Cajones followed.
“Oh, and sir,” said the desk clerk after them, “No pets in the room: Health & Safety.”
(XXX^[2])
“That was disgusting,” said Atom, “and you didn’t even bother to eat him”
“There’s plenty more in the henhouse.” Said Cajones
“But did you have to… ugh”
“Yes, I had to; d’you think those skills come easy? Or cheap?” Cajones licked his paw, chewing in between his claws to ensure a thorough job, “It takes years of training: physical and mental; you need hand-eye coordination second to none; you gotta be in top shape; not an once of flab; all this added to a modicum of mime skills and a whole lotta balls. It would have been rude not to do it.”
“Ok look, I know I know nothing (It’s about the only thing I know) but everything inside me has been nagging at me that cats shouldn’t be able to talk… and now I know why.”
“No need to be so indignant Pinky, it’s not as if I wasn’t provoked. Your lot have nuked whole continents for less.”

^[2]Editor’s note: The section imagined here has been removed by the PTB. Their hallowed members, ever concerned for the fragile stomach of the common man, deemed the content too graphic, and frankly gratuitous for general consumption.

2.4 Trust

Jeanloup Sieff

“So what’s your gig then?” Atom tugged at the cuffs of his shirt and rotated his shoulders in the mirror, “Now that we’ve established that I have no idea what mine is.
“Babysitter.” Cajones blinked his eyes slowly in the mirror; Atom was obliged to blink back, it was rude not to having been given such a significant signal of trust.
“Am I to trust you?” he asked.
“It’s just a word; a word that cannot contain its meaning” said Cajones, his yellow eyes growing as the pupils contracted, “One and a half syllables ( tru-th) to convey such a nuanced contract.
I am all you have at the moment.”
“And this suit” said Atom, turning to admire the seam in the back of his brown jacket.
Cajones licked his flank distractedly, a task leaving him unable to speak for the duration of his duty.
“You can trust me…” he said finally, “…just as far as I can see you”

Slime

There appears to be no place for the truth on the television news. Rather, any emerging truth is quickly swamped with the static interference of idiot voices; any clear water muddied with propaganda. Turn on your television, this is not the news, it is the voice of corruption, the opiate that numbs your desire to know; your willingness to learn. Turn off your television, it is the collar of servitude chained to the pillars of greed to which we return daily to sniff our own piss.

This is Not a Haiku

Neil Krug

Black days lived in the light of change
Watch the empire fall in
upon its cardboard ramparts

2.3 Finance

Chris Anthony

“Who’s paying for all of this?” Atom smoothed the front of his brown suit; checked his profile in the mirror, “The clothes; the hotel room?”
“You are,” Said Cajones, “Who else would it be?”
“But I’ve haven’t got any money”
“They don’t want money.”
“Everybody wants money, what else is there?”
“What have you got?”
“Um… all I’ve got is this tie…”
Hissed Cajones, “The tie is one of the things you owe.”
“Well how do you pay for your stuff then?”
“I’m a cat stupid, I don’t pay for anything. I don’t have anything (‘cept my balls)”
Atom wondered if Cajones was playing with him (like a cat plays with a mouse) or whether he was being taught a lesson in the intricacies of accountancy.
“Okay, what I mean is what am I going to be expected to do to earn these services that have been afforded me and these things I have been given?”
“Heh, you catch on fast… for a two-legger.”
“Hang on… these services and things that I did not ask for?”
“Bingo! You’re a teenager!” Cajones turned to the mirror, "They grow up so fast"

Political Prisoner

via This Isn't Happiness

Catnip

2.2 Fashion

via This Isn't Happiness

Atom stuffed the tie into his pocket.
Cajones licked his flank, “Choices you make about the stuff that you wrap around yourself are no concern of mine,” he drew his legs under himself, stood and arched his back, this action being severely restricted by the ceiling, which creaked in protest (ceilings have feilings too).
“In fact…” Cajones paused to breathed out a long (and relaxed) breath, a breath which, warm against Atom’s face, caused him to wrinkle his nose “catbreath”.
“In fact, I really don’t give a shit whether you wear the tie or not; it’s all the same to me: I have a fur coat that, while not to everyone’s taste, being, as it is, ginger, nevertheless is that well tailored that it covers all of me (Up to and including my balls and excluding, for very valid reasons, my nose, eyes ears and anus).”
“Yeah but you don’t have a tie do you?”
“No…”
“I could sell you this one… it would go well against the white patch at your throat and would contrast nicely with your eyes.”

2.1 Collar

via Everyday I Show

The mirror reflected Atom dressed in the items of clothing left for him in the obvious places. He held a blue, red and white striped tie across his hands while his mind clutched at the fragment of familiarity he saw in this reflected image; the mirror said nothing.
“You look like a little furry brown mouse in that suit” said Cajones from the quadrant of the room he’d chosen to relax in.
Atom looked down at the ginger leg whose paw (the size of his face) rested an inch from his shiny new shoes, “You’re not gonna eat me are you?”
“I’m not, but something else might” Atom was disturbed by the fact that the cat could not give expression to its words other than with its eyes with their intricate fractal-like yellow-patterned irises and pupils that dilated and contracted to something more than the variations in light.
“I can’t tell whether you’re lying or not,” he said, “You give me no clues”
“We never lie^[1],” said Cajones, “We merely bend your truth. I’m saying to you that this place is dangerous, but only if you place value on what you see in the mirror and in the questions you think need to be answered.”
”Well, there’s no way I’m wearing this stupid tie, I’ll say that, what’s the fucking point of it? Doesn’t keep my neck warm, doesn’t keep my collar closed (there’s a button to do that)”
“That’s just an old power appeasement symbol,” said Cajones, “Helped certain a type of “ambitious” person feel as if he were more powerful than the fact that he pushed paper would suggest.”
“And since you did ask,” Cajones continued, “Ties were developed to serve the purpose of little flags that identified members of secret societies to one another”
“I’ll take your word for that,” said Atom, “all the more reason for me not to wear it”

^[1]Editor's Note: Cajones’ word may be called into question if one were to place this statement alongside the one made in instalment 1.1
When that particular Atom asked whether cats lie, Cajones answered: “Of course we do”.

∞.1 Mad Scientist's Notebook

Introductory Offering.

Despite the disappointment of these trials so far, my curiosity in the face of the new, the unknown, the profound thoughts of others, remains unquenched.

The fact that the cat has hung around this long echoes my curiosity.

This particular specimen appears to spark with all cylinders; practises smooth gear changes and has scrubbed up well.

I shall now attempt to remember how to operate the maze.

Jonathan Viner

Say What?

			Posterity was a vaudeville joke audible only to those with front-row seats
							Roberto Bolaño