topless robot

Why haven't I posted lately? I'm reading other awesome blogs. Boing Boing is one. Topless Robot is another. Check out The 10 Greatest Spaceship Chases Ever. The top two entries are particularly great.

the experience trap

This article will encourage other near-future librarians out there.

the box: a short, short story

Randolph found the box the day he discovered his wife kissing her physical therapist, a man he was grateful to. He saw Rena’s red mouth meet Melton’s mustache and stopped on the stairs, his eyes at floor level. She turned her key in the lock, and they stumbled into the apartment. Randolph remained where he was, one foot above the other.

He strained to hear the sounds coming through the walls. He heard the thud of their bodies against the futon and the creak of the metal frame underneath it. He heard laughter, Melton’s first, and then hers.

Randolph took the four flights to the ground floor of the building. He plunged into the cold air and walked to the end of the block. He went inside the Bodega to a refrigerated case and stared at the colorful labels on the bottles. He didn’t want cold air on his face, but he finally opened the glass door and took a root beer. He paid the clerk with a ten and a dime. He told him to keep the change.

The box sat near a garbage bag outside the Bodega. The bag was open, and newspapers spilled from the top. The wind pressed his slacks against his shins. Brushing the papers aside, Randolph knelt near the box. He set the bottle on the pavement and touched the box with both hands. It would have been a cube but for the shallow indentation of the screen on one side. Randolph ran his hands over the other five sides, searching for cracks. The surface was black, smooth, and cold. It was about a foot long on each side. It weighed about five pounds. He left no fingerprints.

A dim wash of static filled the screen. Randolph watched the static, but nothing happened.

He twisted the cap from the bottle and drank from it. Sticky liquid leaked over the sides of his face and into his ears and hair. He vomited into the garbage bag. He wanted to be angry, but when he felt anger he knew it would flow inward, not at Rena or Melton.

Two years before, a drunken teenager hit Rena with a stolen Cadillac as she jogged along the West Side highway. Her legs sustained compound fractures. The blow fractured several vertebrae. The doctors performed emergency surgery and warned of paralysis. Rena and Randolph each sank into depression, and Melton rescued them. Melton helped her walk again.

Melton pushed Rena’s wheelchair on their short walks during visiting hours. He gave them backgammon lessons on Saturday mornings from 9 to 11. “Don’t take it so hard, Randy,” Melton would say. “Your wife has a certain resiliency.” He made you believe his mantras were facts. Randolph trusted Melton, even loved him. He wanted to erase the kiss from his mind.

The box formed an image of Rena and Melton in the bedroom. They were fully clothed. The box made no sound, but Randolph saw Rena gesture toward the door. She held both hands over her face and turned away. Melton’s face filled the screen. Randolph tried to understand how that face made him feel. He thought of Melton’s words, “a certain resiliency,” and how they had lifted him. Melton left the apartment. Rena tore a paper towel from the dispenser by the sink, wiped her face with it, and threw the wad onto the counter. Two smudges of mascara marred the paper towel.

The box flashed into static then went black.

He thought he might cry out of relief. He put the box under his arm, but he couldn’t bring himself to go home. He dumped the trash from the black plastic bag and put the box inside it. Then he went down the block for a slice of chicken pizza. He took a paper towel from the dispenser and pressed it into the top of his slice. Grease soaked through the paper towel. He wondered if he could trust the box. Did it show him what he wanted to see? Or did it show him the truth?

When he got back to the apartment it was empty. He went to the counter to find the smudged paper towel.

money ball

Check out this new Slate article on Money Ball and how it relates to the Mitchell report.

jfk speech

I found this John F. Kennedy speech refreshing. I can't really imagine a presidential candidate saying those words today. But maybe I'm jaded.

One of my favorite lines: "I believe in an America where the separation of church and state is absolute."