pc. ch.4.

Chapter 4.  It was nice to know they were still there.
    I was dragging down the hill, a big sack of rocks and a crate of clementines.  Sweetness ensconced in an orange leather-like orb.  An Osage orange.  A bundle of energy.  Cough cough.  Tap tap.  They say the rocks and clementines will help for just about anything that ails you.  But what if it’s simply your own mind?  That should be the simplest to cure.  Maybe it’s the most difficult.
     It was different.  I looked at all the tranches, scooped up the memories that lingered, and bundled them into a looming tower.  I made 8 of them.  Like a big circle.  The voices in my head were now towering above me, shouting down in an empirical cacophony.  I no longer knew what anything meant.  The thoughts in my head were fighting for clarity.  Thoughts boiled down to controlling the most basic functions.  Brush of a twiddling fly.  Swoop the hair out of my eyes.  Clean the sweat of my brow off of my sleek, superfine spectacles.  Push the triangle, make circular motions on a white plastic pad.  Constantly and continually adjusting until the balance was visible, until circumstances changed and all principles of stare decisis were defenestrated.
     I stepped back and took a look in almost wonder.  I couldn’t even imagine what I was looking at.  Black towers of thought shooting up into the sky, past the flowing Northern lights, green red amber.  Was that violet purple lavender?  Skating around the edges.  My favorite.  Everything above me was buzzing around.  Thoughtless thoughts, bouncing and scraping and screaming at each other, each vying for dominance and prominence.  Dang.  These thought waves functioned in a perturbed manner, scattering and colliding until something had to give way.
     What gives, Haruki?
     My thoughts began to dissociate with the ones above.  I could feel the freshness,  the moist breezes, lapping around and calming and cleaning all that is new.  Swaddling in blankets and feeding fresh fruit and fish.  Like a phase shift, painting a plot of serenity.  Serendipity.  Succotash.  Sassafras.  And of course, damn Yankee, sarsaparilla.
     It was like I was energized.  In between the spewing black cauldron of the towers was some kind of field.  My sensors and detectors indicated both electric and magnetic fields.  How could that be?  Some sort of lawyer field.  Oh no.  That could be quite dangerous.  I had no idea what effect that would have on my all-too-soon bare-my-soul thoughts.  Although there was nothing to bear.  All the detritus was bouncing around the evil black towers above.  Lingering was just pure thoughts, soul and fire and ice.  Nothing more.  Things seemed to be bouncing.  Thoughts happy and speedy, then slow and solitary.  Every six hours or so there would be a phase shift. 
     It was like the cross section of my thoughts were decreasing in their individuality and finding commonality, bouncing around wildly until they began to oscillate in unison.  But I found, once a memory intruded, the oscillations would slow, and thoughts would unfurl in a slow, moldering dirge and then ramp up into zippy uncontrollable disconnected maze of hyperactivity.  Neither was controllable.  Both lasted for months. 
     I took a sip of my porter and let Ray lie in the sun, after we left the towers behind.  They were still standing.  We could visit anytime we want.  See the old and introduce the new.  It was nice to know they were still there.