|
|
Michael
Moore Recommends:
After: The Rebuilding and Defending of America in the September
12th Era
by Steven Brill
$11.20 @ Amazon.com
Bush's Brain: How Karl Rove Made George W. Bush Presidential
by James Moore
$19.01 @ Amazon.com
The Haliburton Agenda: The Politics of
Oil & Money
by Dan Briody
$16.97 @ Amazon.com
Inside Al Queda: Global Network of Terror
by Rohan Gunaratna
$11.20 @ Amazon.com
The Iron Triangle:
Inside The Secret World of the Carlyle Group
by Dan Briody
$16.97 @ Amazon.com
House of Bush,
House of Saud:
The Secret Relationship Between the World's Two Most Powerful
Dynasties
by Craig Unger
$17.68 @ Amazon.com
|
|
|
 |
|
| Visibility
Written by David
E. Puretz
Illustrations by Joshua Patterson
My name is Hamant and I
am a nonentity. I am a Nothing.
Now see me:
Dogs bark, pigeons fly away, squirrels simply dash in the
opposite direction when I approach – other certain mammals
as well sense me, fish of course when I tap the glass—but
to almost all of which has conscious thought, I do not exist.
|
 |
|
There are the gifted
people who have only partially-developed the skill to sense
me, smell me, most will have a distinct underlying notion
in the underbelly of their brain that I can be in their presence.
It’s a talent, a gift, and for these that have an underdeveloped
capacity, but still an above-average ability to sense the
unseen—most will go their whole lives without developing
that ability and will remain that way without experiencing
the truth, without experiencing us…without experiencing
me.
The reason for this is the Normals, the
ones who don’t have the slightest notion that people
like me are out there. These Normals consider it a disease,
an illness, a God-dam syndrome for others to see and talk
with things and people that they can’t. Normals would
consider it the beginning stages of schizophrenia and will
go out of their way to try to prevent it from taking over
a person with maturing faculties of the brain and they halt
their process, impede the development from budding. Being
able to see is shunned in the normal-human community. These
who don’t know of my existence, are notably missing
neurological preceptors in the brain, lacking certain genes
and notably the dopamine-6 receptor which induces a force
field in their brain, a wall, an obstruction, blocking them
from conceiving of our existence. They try hard to pull those
with the beginning stages of the gift out of this advanced
state of sensory perception—seems much like jealousy—they
probably ask themselves, “who are they to know of beings
and things that I will never be able to believe in, understand,
accept?”
And for this reason, many other Nothings like myself remain
in the shadows, consider it futile to interact with the Normal
world, for our existence doesn’t exist in normalcy.
I was urban though. New York City was
my home for I was born in these streets. I wasn’t going
to run off like the rest of the Nothings to live in New Guinea,
Tasmania Greenland even Canada for solemnity or the breeding
grounds of the Maldive Islands in India just because of the
overwhelming millions of New Yorkers all around, all who can’t
ever know me.
It was pride I guess you could say. Pride in Nothing. And
this is how things started. Being in the Normal world was
how I came up with my idea of getting to a new born baby to
try to develop it, ferment its maladapted soul into one that
is gifted-- manipulate him into a fully-sensing able body—possibly
try to perpetuate the gift with my own doing.
I got this idea through Georgia--The most beautiful unperceptive
thing I had ever seen.
|
 |
So
I stalked her. Stalked her sometimes weeks at a time. Never
left her side. Eventually I reached to touch her and she twitched
as I did so. I continued to touch her on her back and I massaged
the buttoning gully above her butt but just within the beginning
dip of her cheeks. I rubbed it and she felt nothing.
But when I put my fingers upon her shoulder she felt it. I
knew she felt something. So I made Georgia my first experiment.
I slept with her, kissed her, rubbed her and she never felt
a thing because her brain blocked her body from sensing such
a thing. But once during penetration, she began to feel perpetually
better and better as I worked the inner tissue. My excitement
turned into utter contention as she bit her upper lip and
began stroking herself where I had been dancing upon her with
my torso. Her legs spread and she had a full on orgasm without
even knowing why. |
|
My life with her lasted
for four months and six days…until Grables entered into
her life--a slickster who considered it stylish to have a
shaved head. He was unalterable—a Normal who would never
be able to know of or comprehend Nothing. He persevered with
Georgia-- called her endlessly. She fell in love with this
man who new nothing of who she really was. Of whom she was
when she was self- perceivably alone. Her little activities,
styles, random acts, acts that I adored boundlessly ended
suddenly and irrevocably as Georgia transitioned from being
in love with herself and with what I had given to an undetecting
soul to falling utterly in love with sappy Grables.
So with that I disappeared again. Expunged from being but
something yet again.
Grables knocked Georgia up and during her beginning stages
of pregnancy I developed the idea--the urge to try to manipulate
her future son Grant into a fully seeing body. I owed at least
that to Georgia.
********
One of my oldest memories
I have of Grant was from about thirteen years ago when he
was riding in the backseat of mom’s car with me to his
right moments before the car accident. I remember the peacefulness
I felt in the car prior to the crash. Grant had injured his
leg and after numerous time-consuming and painful operations,
the doctor made an executive and professional decision to
have the lower half of his leg removed. I luckily walked away
from the accident without a scratch.
Baby pictures of Grant before he was in the accident which
Grant often peers at while riding amongst the house in his
wheelchair depict a happy contented boy always staring amusedly
slightly to the left of the camera; in reminiscence, he was
laughing at one of my face morphing acts that I often performed
to amuse him. After Grant’s accident I changed my body,
played with my talents, all the more constantly to battle
his beckoning depression which, if it weren’t for me,
would have taken him over completely. Georgia and Grables
still were unaware of my existence. I put all my effort towards
Grant and Grant alone for a long time. I became his confidant,
his guard, his chauffer, his protection against the bad things
in the world, the hate, his misery, despair. And it gave me
solidarity aiding to Grant, taking care of my chum; I was
a part of him—a part of his consciousness. I was part
of his identity. And in my world, he was all that mattered;
he was all I concerned myself with. |
|
Grant’s family and everyone else associated with Grant
for that matter began suspecting of my existence through Grant’s
seemingly strange ramblings and rants, when in actuality we
would be having a deep and passionate conversation. I tried
not to chat with him too often while others were around but
he grew into the fashion of speaking with me without a care
for who else was in the room. Occasionally Grant would confide
in a Normal someone and inform them about my existence—I
threatened him that if he spoke about his gift to Normals,
they would try to punish him for it.
Certain classmates were his confidants
and although they didn’t speak of Grant’s so called
“imaginary friend” to anyone of authority, they
still certainly didn’t believe in my existence.
Years passed and we became closer. We
were just as inseparable as always. To the rest of the world,
Grant was a lonely child, one who spent his days and nights
alone, apparently muttering to himself, laughing unpredictably
and random-like, utterly confused he is they thought. |
|
 |
But Grant
had deep comfort for he had someone to spill his secrets to,
confess his sadnesses, discuss life and the world that the
two of us encumbered. Georgia and Grables became unperceiving
beings. They were stuck in their ways. After being with a
bland nomad like Grables, Georgia had in turn become something
similar to that: a common Normal completely oblivious to her
true surroundings. Ignorant—almost unconscious beings.
Most children grew out the
imaginary friend phase by this time his parents thought, but
their Grant was special.
By the age of fifteen,
they had diagnosed Grant as a text book schizophrenic.
He was taken out of school
by his parents and sent to an informatory for the gifted.
He didn’t mind for he knew that I wouldn’t leave
his side. We traveled together in the backseat—I to
his left and silent parents up front. At the informatory,
Grant was surrounded by other children who had befriended
other Nothings like myself. |
After a level of comfort was established between Grant and some
of the other gifted children--the other regulars who lived there
on a daily basis as Grant did, he began to introduce myself
to them. Which I found to be exhilarating. It was as if my scheme
had finally come to fruition. I had trained a normal child into
being just as gifted as the other self-proclaimed born-gifted.
|
|
At first, many of the kids at the informatory are reluctant
to bring their chums out of the shadows for they are notably
selfish with us—especially was the case with Grant.
But he came around soon enough as all the young gifted do—and
brought me out to meet my allies: other Nothings and other
young gifted natives who acknowledge and accept.
For one of the first times in my life, I was surrounded by
those of a similar nature to me-- the invisibles, the Nothings,
the nowheres. But we were here. And we were together.
And
there were more of us out there. And I learned that there
has been an uprising —many more like me who have made
it their destiny—to be known. |
|
|
|
|
