E=mc to the infinity power.
Dec 20, 2001
“It’s the best of times, and the best of times”. So said the New York Times on what was looking to be the biggest year for Wall Street ever, the DOW up another 150 points and still climbing. So said the smiling face of Wild Bill Opus, the week’s new addition to the billionaire’s club, proudly showing off the microchip minicamera he had finished marketing to every Law Enforcement agencies and their underground affiliates in the former Soviet Block, with a profit that would have bought-off Stalin, Lenin and even Korinsky. So said the shelves at Kwick-Mart, offering every tax-paying, job-holding American a shot at owning the Pando Panda doll l for 29.95, at FAO Schwartz for a mere $2,000 and change last year. So even said the story of the fireman from Queens who rescued three kids and their dog from a blazing inferno in Scarsdale, then was crushed by a final collapse of the roof that burned for three hours afterwards.
Tina Korinska, M.D., Ph.D.,knew it was putrid brown bullshit in glorious black and white as she opened the paper on the 7:23 Greenwich to Penn express. She put the paper down and treated herself to a glance of the morning blue sky still left by dawn, outside the tinted window. The world beyond the horizon reeked of possibilities, but as for the realm of the ‘real’, it was samo-samo, the pheromones of aftershave, cologne and pine-scented Alpine sprayed over her fellow commuters and their smooth-textured First Class cattle car seats. She turned the page and was overtaken by a black and white photo that suggested the reality of the grandest and boldest of colors.
The world outside Metro was still rough, cool and ruggedly individualistic to the new Marboro Man atop his White horse in the autumn brown Montana high country. But a closer look under the hat revealed the Cowboy hero to be a Jersey model in boots that never left Manhattan, wearing jeans that saw action riding other actors and agents rather than livestock. And the backdrop could have just as well been a touched-up photo of taken in Teaneck, New Jersey off the Route Four Shopping Mall highway. Then there was the hard evidence of something very wrong, aside from the always-present fact that the Health Columns were sponsored by cigarette companies. Tina wished she had not done her current events homework and questioning, but she had.
The American DOW was up again this week because the Korean, Russian and Chinese homeless rates had hit at an all time high last month, due to disasters of Nature which might not have been natural in origin. Entrepreneur Wild Bill Opus was in reality the tamest operative for the CIA, roped into a private contract with ‘the company’ after the IRS nailed him on tax fraud and the FBI was going to fry him for corporate espionage. Pando Panda’s irresistible smile was sewn on by overworked and underpaid eleven year-old Mexican factory laborers who had not smiled themselves since the Ides of March Millennium WTO Free Trade Agreement . Inside rumors on the Conspiracy and Cover-Ups talk radio show, airtime of 2 AM, confirmed that the hero of the Scarsdale Inferno was no angel, lounging with a cool gin fizz in the Virgin Islands as his own spouse after having collected on his life insurance policy.
Trickle down economics DID mean people on top pissing on everyone else below them on the platinum-polyester totem pole, clear enough to anyone reading between the black and white newsprint. But gray seemed like a comfortable color to wear today, on the inside and the outside. Tina recalled the conversation with her therapist that morning which made her get on this train of upper-tiered White Niggers on the way to another well-paid day at Master’s plantation.
It was only an hour earlier, in the pink room where most of her internal evaluations and external strategies were devised. Doctor Tina looked at herself in her bathroom mirror, adjusting the off-white, not-quite light-black business-suit custom-tailored to look both procedural and seductive, then noticed something under the big baby-blues that were her most powerful weapon. “Wrinkles?” she noted. “I’m only 26 and I’m getting wrinkles under my eyes?” she protested to the reflection looked at so often but stared into only today.
“What are YOU looking at ?” Doctor Korinksa demanded of the face on the other side of the mirror. “Is that self doubt? What the fuck are you doubtful about!!!?. We’re supposed to be a team. You lure them in, I catch ’em. I didn’t bust my pretty little ass so that you could be old, doubtful and, most pathetically, reflective….no pun intended.”
But the eyes kept saying something else to Tina, in a language with no words that she was, to her fear and horror, able to understand clearer and clearer since ‘that’ case started.
“No, I’m not thinking about that case. He’s just a patient, and I’m a shrink. He’s an N value, one statistic who doesn’t fit into the bell shaped curve. Not yet. I’ll get him to fit into the curve I’ve got, or make up my own curve. I have drugs, electrostim units, MRIs that can map out his every thought. I’ll figure out a way to make him better, make him behave and, who knows, maybe even make him happy..”
The reflection broke-open a slight smile, Tina noting, again, a body that must have been ordered at the time of conception from a Vogue catalogue. Hips big enough to be noticed but well below the ‘birthin mamma’ size.. Breasts that were supple, firm and elegantly voluptuous. Chiseled face with harsh lines saying ‘cool’, sweet if she chose to manipulate it. Naturally-blonde hair, in a professional shoulder-length style that always fell into the right place at the right time, and, if she wanted it that way, for the right man. And as for who that man would be, the one who would rescue her from her goals and remind her of her dreams, and visions—
“No, Doctor Reflecto. That old geezer isn’t going to lose his virginity for the third time in his new life of ‘enlightened madness’ with me. I’ll fix him up with someone, Hmmm…Who do I know?”
Tina pondered the dilemma as she put on the mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow that made her ocular portholes look “bigger to the human eye, but smaller to the cosmic Soul”. The left-handed compliment was made by patient 124.ry, assigned to her by the World Justice Agency for psychiatric evaluation before his trial.
“Let’s see, who do I know who wants to get laid by a Sean Connery wannabe with an Oliver Stone paranoiac complex, and….A Forrest Gump view of the world that’s…dangerous, to himself,,,and to others”
Tina stopped, considering the facts of the case and the consequences. 125.rj, demanded to be addressed as ‘Albert’ to his enemies, and ‘Al’ to his friends, and not a all by anyone in-between, particularly because to Al and Albert, there was nothing between a friend or an enemy, except, perhaps, a woman.
Playing around with the imagery, and the ease by which she could hide her identity from the old man on death row who had recently lost his, Tina pondered the possibilities. Her generically-perfect body could be used as a manacin upon which any facade could be constructed to break into the core of the n-value that didn’t fit into any bell-shaped curve. “Maybe a Crystal, with three Y’s, big hair, and a biiggggg smile on a really, like, happy day. Or Crystal with a k–no, three ks–and a snake tattoo between my breasts on a real angry day. Or Crystal with double st’s, Mistress in black leather showing Albert something about the mathematics, and pleasure, of giving, and getting, cruelty…Yeah, he’d like that one.”
Tina toyed with the Dominatrix motif, putting her hair up, pumping up the B plus-cup breasts that were made for black leather. Maybe that was the way to get the secrets out of him. Though he had been laughed out of both mainstream and affiliated-‘alternative’ science a decade ago, the upper-ups at the World Justice Agency thought former biophysical medical researcher Alexi Dmitrosowitch was dangerous, The WGA wanted Alexi silenced. But there would be extra professional points if the secret held by the High Priest living in an out-of-sight cabin in the off-to the-side state of Maine was found out.
In wars of men vs, men, or men vs man, everybody talks during the interrogation process. With most men it takes ten minutes, with mot women, half an hour. Stats proved it. But all the mathematics in the world couldn’t prove, or show, what the one-time Nobel-nominee in physics was up to behind his big, wide open and tortured eyes. Mistress Tina might have a shot at it. The truth serums made him drowsy, pain made him shut down, and hypnosis only opened up the passive portions of his brain, the real secrets buried in a place where science and physical definitions couldn’t go.
“E equals mc to the infinite power,” Tina found herself muttering to her own shrink behind the mirror,, recalling Albert’s montra, and lifeline. “He kept saying that this is what it’s all about. Energy is converted to mass. Mental thoughts are energy, and energy gets converted into mass, something we can touch, Good energy makes for good things in the world, creations of wonderment such as a Beethovian symphony, a joke that makes us laugh, or a child being born who makes us smile. Bad energy creates…..”
Tina stopped. It was so improbable. The collective energies of greed and selfishness merging into a mass, a person, who was none other than….
“The antiChrist?” she spoke out. “The world is being destroyed, set up for the fall of falls, by a creation of everyone’s stupidity and cruelty. That’s what Albert said. Like the other Albert said, there’s only two things that are really infinite-space and human stupidity…Even it it’s true, what a dumb thing to publish, And what a stupid thing to name your top ten candidates in a full page ad in the Times. Then asking everyone else to do name their ‘ten’, take a secret vote, and the most popular antiChrist fries. What a dumb…dumb thing….Albert, Al, has already given his life for,”
The train eased into a firm halt. Rye, NY—already. Another platform completed. Another condo high-rise behind it. Another patch of woods converted into ecology-house lumber. Another atyptically-typical passenger, a Yuppette-in training, symetrically-dyssymetrical black main streaked with red, white and blue, pierced in every orifice above her neck, and probably between her legs. On her Walkman radio blasting out even through the earplugs–ABBA Gold. “Waterloo” and “Dancing Queen” meant nothing to the cool-to-be-cruel neo-hipster, neo-hippie, neo-punk, but it registered in Tina’s overchallenged, now overburdened, mind. Had she stayed at home, the day would have devolved into reading a novel about someone else’s fantasies, catching a half hour of talk-chat gossip on the tube made-over to look like news analysis or turning on the oldies tunes, those chord progressions and mind-controlling sounds proving that say it’s okay to linger in bed for another ten minutes, ten hours, ten days, or ten years.
ABBA was the scariest of all, a mathematical chord and note progression which fit all the criteria for mind-numbing and head-addictive potential. Tina set her alarm to blast out “Dancing Queen” every morning, no matter how late she got to bed. It kept her from spending her divorce settlement and inheritance as a couch potato manna at home, living in the past, with the soulmate who was not with her any more, and who perhaps never existed at all. Tina was his Dancing Queen until one day, both of them found new partners. Guy found his new squeeze in a gal who , upon more intimate examination, had a bigger reproductive cannon than he ever did between the legs. Tina betrayed her vows by affiliating herself firmly with the most jealous of jigalos—her career. But throughout it all, ABBA lingered as a reminder to never go backwards.
Then again, ABBA Gold was the top seller in the UK back in 98. “No….this is America”, the voice inside Tina schreeched out so clearly, in diction that sounded much like her mustached, big boobed, big-hipped Ukrainian Grandmother, the only woman she ever respected or trusted, an Old World Bubba who lived through starvation by Stalin in ’31 and internment by Hitler in ’42. “America is strongest country in world. If the Nazis and Fascist steal our gold, we build economy on platinum, onions or potatoes. America will always be strongest and richest country in world because God wills it so.”
Tina had entered college as an agnostic and emerged from grad school a devout atheist. But, Bubba was never wrong, and, even if God was continuing His a two-thousand-year lunch break, this was America, land of the free and home of….depraved.
MJ Politis, Ph.D., D.V.M., H.B.A.R.P. (human being, aspiring Rennaisance person)