Decline of the American Empire

Two recent events brought home the fact that the United States in a state of decline. First, there was the abandoning of the shuttle program and manned space flight using our own rockets. Secondly, the wrangling in Washington about the national debt. Empires, like all entities, are born, grow, reach their peak, decline and die. The Romans ruled the world for a thousand years, but by the fifth century A.D. Rome itself was sacked by barbarians.

England ruled the seas for centuries; eventually it reverted to a minor European country. The Soviet Union lasted from 1918 to 1991. These are only three examples of the many great empires that have come and gone.

At the end of World War II, the United States reached its peak. We were the strongest, best armed and richest empire the world has ever known. Immediately after hostilities ended, we were able to rebuild the war torn countries, had the exclusive use of the most powerful weapon ever conceived, had troops stationed all over the world, had begun to build the superhighways that span the nation, started the space program and had more wealth and prosperity than ever existed before. The years from 1946 to 1963 saw an empire that was extremely powerful and wealthy.  

Although the years that followed were prosperous and innovative, the slide had begun. First there was competition from other nations in some of our most favored industries such as automobiles, electronics and clothing. Then came unpopular wars that caused us to switch from a citizen (drafted) army to a mercenary (all-volunteer) defense force. Recent events have shown that the decline is accelerating.

Some of these signs are an economy that is manipulated by greed, the neglect of our infrastructure, insane politics where reason gives way to dogma, a government debt that is out of control, growing personal debt, heads of great corporations who allow personal greed to override ethics and the welfare of their own companies, disdain of art, science and education and costly never-ending wars with no clearly defined purpose or conclusion.  

Haunted Chicago

Haunted Chicago

During a visit to Chicago, I went on a tour of places that are supposed to be haunted. Here is some of the history of the haunted areas. The tour is called Haunted Chicago.

1915 Eastland Disaster

On the morning of July 24, 1915, the lake passenger steamer Eastland cast off from the Chicago River dock at the Clark Street Bridge with 2,572 people aboard.

Immediately the ship listed away from the dock, righted herself, listed again and slowly rolled over on her side and settled on the mud of the river bottom.

Some of those on board, all Western Electric Company employees and their families, were able to jump into the water and swim ashore, but 844 excursionists lost their lives before rescuers reached them, making the Eastland disaster by far the worst in the city's history in terms of loss of life.

St Valentine's Day Massacre

For a city that is so filled with the history of crime, there has been little preservation of the landmarks that were once so important to the legend of the mob in Chicago. Gone are the landmarks like the Lexington Hotel, where Al Capone kept the fifth floor suite and used the place as his headquarters. But most tragic, at least to crime buffs, was the destruction of the warehouse at 2122 North Clark Street. It was here, on Valentine's Day 1929, that the most spectacular mob hit in gangland history took place -- the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

The building was called the S-M-C Cartage Company and was a red, brick structure on Clark Street. The events that led to the massacre began on the morning of the 14th. A group of men had gathered at the warehouse that morning, set up by a Detroit gangster who told Moran that a truck was on its way to Chicago.

One of them was Johnny May, an ex-safecracker who had been hired by George "Bugs" Moran as an auto mechanic. He was working on a truck that morning, with his dog tied to the bumper, while six other men waited for the truck of hijacked whiskey to arrive. The men were Frank and Pete Gusenberg, who were supposed to meet Moran and pick up two empty trucks to drive to Detroit and pick up smuggled Canadian whiskey; James Clark, Moran's brother-in-law; Adam Heyer; Al Weinshank; and Reinhardt Schwimmer, a young optometrist who had befriended Moran and hung around the liquor warehouse just for the thrill of rubbing shoulders with gangsters.

Bugs Moran was already late for the morning meeting. He was due to arrive at 10:30 but didn't even leave for the rendezvous, in the company of Willie Marks and Ted Newberry, until several minutes after that.

While the seven men waited inside of the warehouse, they had no idea that a police car had pulled up outside, or that Moran had spotted the car and had quickly taken cover. Five men got out of the police car, three of them in uniforms and two in civilian clothing. They entered the building and a few moments later, the clatter of machine gun fire broke the stillness of the snowy morning. Soon after, five figures emerged and they drove away. May's dog, inside of the warehouse, was barking and howling and when neighbors went to check and see what was going on... they discovered a bloody murder scene.

Moran's men had been lined up against the rear wall of the garage and had been sprayed with machine-guns. They killed all seven of them but had missed Bugs Moran. He had figured the arrival of the police car to be some sort of shakedown and had hung back. When the machine gunning started, he, Marks and Newberry had fled. The murders broke the power of the North Side gang and Moran correctly blamed Al Capone. No one will probably ever know who the actual shooters were, but one of them was probably Machine Gun McGurn, one of Capone's most trusted men.

In 1967, the building was demolished. However, the bricks from the bullet-marked rear wall were purchased and saved by a Canadian businessman. In 1972, he opened a night club with a Roaring 20's theme and rebuilt the wall, for some strange reason, in the men's restroom. Three nights each week, women were allowed to peek inside at this macabre attraction.

Even today, people walking along the street at night have reported the sounds of screams and machine guns as they pass the site. The building is long gone but the area is marked as a fenced-off lawn that belongs to the nearby nursing home. Five trees are scattered along the place in a line and the one in the middle marks the location where the rear wall once stood.

The garage was located at 2122 North Clark Street and the area is now marked by a fenced lawn and five trees. The center tree marks the area where Bugs Moran's men met their deaths.

Hull House

Hull House was constructed by Charles J. Hull at Halsted and Polk Streets in 1856 at a time when this was one of the most fashionable sections of the city. After the Chicago Fire of 1871, the "better classes" moved to other parts of the city and the Near West Side began to attract a large immigrant population of Italian, Greek and Jewish settlers. By the 1880's, Hull House was surrounded by factories and tenement houses and soon after, became one of the most famous places in Chicago.

Although it was never intended to be known as a "haunted house"... it would not emerge from its heyday unscathed by stories of ghosts and the supernatural.

Hull House has long been known as a pioneering effort in social equality. Jane Addams and Ellen Starr Gates opened the house in 1889 to educate and improve the lot of the newly arrived European immigrants. At that time, the overcrowded tenement neighborhoods west of Halsted Street were a jungle of crime, vice, prostitution and drug addiction. Jane Addams became the "voice of humanity" on the West Side, enriching the lives of many unfortunate people at the house.

Exiled criminals from other parts of the city sought refuge on the west side, attracting the "lowest of the lowly" hoodlums. Prostitutes beckoned openly from open doorways to the string of whorehouses that operated between Monroe and Lake Streets. In addition, cocaine, laudanum and over-the-counter patent medicines spiked with opium were available to purchase in district drugstores.

It was a horrible place, and amidst it all were the broken-down refugees and immigrants. It was to this people that Jane Addams' Hull House appealed.

Jane and Ellen took control of the property in September 1889 and opened the settlement house. Addams was granted a 25 year, rent-free lease by Hull's confidential secretary, Helen Culver, and by the heirs to the Hull fortune, who were enthusiastic about Jane's efforts on behalf of the poor. They soon began turning the place into a comfortable house, aimed mostly at women, but affording food and shelter to the homeless and hungry as well. The house also provided education and protection for many and the staff worked to better the lives of the local people for many years to come.

At the time when Jane Addams took over Hull House, several years had passed since the death of Mrs. Charles Hull, but this didn't prevent her from making her presence known. She had died of natural causes in a second-floor bedroom of the mansion and within a few months of her passing, her ghost was said to be haunting that particular room. Overnight guests had their sleep disturbed by footsteps and "strange and unearthly noises".

Earlier tenants of the house, which included the Little Sisters of the Poor and a second-hand furniture store, believed the upstairs of the house was haunted as well. They had always kept a bucket of water on the stairs, believing that the ghost was unable to cross over it.

Hull House received its greatest notoriety when it was alleged to be the refuge of the Chicago "devil baby". This child was supposedly born to a devout Catholic woman and her atheist husband and was said to have pointed ears, horns, scale-covered skin and a tail. According to the story, the young woman had attempted to display a picture of the Virgin Mary in the house but her husband tore it down. He stated that he would rather have the Devil himself in the house than the picture. When the woman had become pregnant, the Devil Baby had been their curse. After enduring numerous indignities because of the child, the father allegedly took it to Hull House.

After being taken in by Jane Addams, staff members of the house reportedly took the baby to be baptized. During the ceremony, the baby supposedly escaped from the priest and began dancing and laughing. Not knowing what else to do with the child, Jane kept it locked in the attic of the house, where it later died.

Local legend insists that a disfigured boy was hidden away on the upper floors of the house. On certain nights, the image of a deformed face could be seen peering from the attic window.... and that a ghostly version of that face is still seen by visitors today!

The Oriental Theatre

The alley behind the Oriental Theatre is supposed to be haunted. Our guide had us hold out our hands so that we could feel the vibrations from the spirits. Some people who took photos also had orbs on the pictures.

The Iroquois Theater Fire in Chicago, Illinois, claimed 602 lives on December 30, 1903. It is, as of 2008, the most disastrous single-building fire in U.S. history with the most fatalities, claiming 100 more fatalities than the Coconut Grove fire in Boston.   Over 1,900 people were in attendance at the Matinee showing of the popular musical Mr. Bluebeard.
 “Death Alley” can currently be found behind the Oriental Theatre, which replaced the Iroquois.  It’s said that, at times, you can smell smoke, hear screaming, feel cold spots and even actually see apparitions. This is where about 100 of those that perished jumped to their deaths. When they reached the window, they expected to see a fire escape but it hadn’t been installed yet.

Transylvania

Everything You Wanted to Know About
Transylvania  And Were Afraid to Ask

Most of you have heard of Transylvania from vampire and monster movies and books. But what else do you know about it? Where is located? Is Dracula's castle really there? Where is Dracula buried? Is the land dark and gloomy with dead trees all over the countryside? What is its history? I hope to answer some of these important questions and more in this blog.

Because of Bram Stoker’s decision to select it as the homeland of his fictional Count Dracula, it is invariably represented in fiction and film as a mysterious realm where the supernatural rules supreme. Its inhabitants are depicted as backward peasants who hold fast to their primitive and superstitious past, who hang garlic on their windows to keep vampires away, and who would never venture out at night without a crucifix in hand.

Since the publication of Dracula, the myth of Transylvania has been reinforced through films and fiction. The first movie, Nosferatu (1922), refers to Transylvania as “the land of phantoms.” Universal’s Dracula of 1931 established Transylvania as a land of eerie shadows, superstitious peasants and craggy mountains with a castle, enshrouded in fog, perched on a steep precipice. In this film, Count Dracula is portrayed by a Transylvanian-Hungarian actor, Bela Lugosi. Transylvania has been prime real estate for other vampire fiction ands film ever since. A voice-over in Hammer’s The Brides of Dracula (1960) intones: “Transylvania -- land of dark forests, dread mountains and black, unfathomed lakes. Still the home of magic and devilry.” In the comedy Transylvania 6-5000 (1985), the mayor wants to turn a Transylvanian town into a Dracula theme park for tourists. Daughter of Darkness (1989) concerns a woman who travels to Transylvania in search of her lost father (who, of course, turns out to be a vampire). Subspecies (1991) and its sequels were shot on location in Romania, as was Dracula Rising (1993). And who can forget The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) with its “Transylvanian Convention” and “sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania”? The very word “Transylvania” can be counted on to arouse a chill of anticipation.

Where is it located?

Transylvania is in the central part of Romania. It is bounded on the east and south by the Carpathian mountain range, in the west by the Apuseni Mountains.

What is its history?

Transylvania has been dominated by different people and empires throughout its history. It was once part of the Kingdom of Dacia (82 BC–106 AD). In 106 AD the Roman Empire conquered it and systematically exploited its wealth. After the Roman legions withdrew in 271 AD, it was overrun by a succession of tribes, which subjected it to various influences. The Hungarians conquered the area at the end of the 9th century and established their control over it in 1003, when King Stephen I defeated the native prince. Between 1003 and 1526, Transylvania was a province of the Kingdom of Hungary. In 1571, it was transformed into the Principality of Transylvania (1571–1711). For most of this period, Transylvania, maintaining its internal autonomy, was under the suzerainty of the Ottoman Empire.

The Habsburgs acquired the territory in 1683. The Habsburgs, however, recognized the Hungarian sovereignty over Transylvania, while the Transylvanians recognized the suzerainty of Emperor Leopold I (1687). The region was officially attached to the Habsburg Empire. In 1699 the Turks legally conceded their loss of Transylvania. After 1867 the region was reabsorbed into Hungary as a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

After the Austro-Hungarian Empire was defeated in World War I, Austria-Hungary began to disintegrate. The ethnic Romanian majority's representatives proclaimed union with Romania in 1918. Hungary protested because over 1,600,000 ethnic Hungarians people were living in the area, mainly in Eastern Transylvania, and along the newly created border. In August 1940, in the midst of World War II, with the aid of Germany and Italy, Hungary regained about forty percent of Transylvania. The territory reverted to Romania in 1945.

What has all this history have to do with Dracula?

Transylvania is often associated with Dracula (Bram Stoker's novel and its film adaptations), and the horror genre in general. The reason for this is that it is believed Stoker chose the cruel tyrant, Vlad Dracul, (known as Vlad Tepes which means Vlad the Impaler) as his fictional vampire. Dracul was infamous for executing his enemies in an especially cruel manner, by impaling them on sharpened poles.

Where is Dracula's Castle

Bran Castle was originally a fortress built by the Knights of the Teutonic Order in the year 1212. It was known by the name of Dietrichstein at the time. Later on, towards the end of the 13th century, it was taken over by the Saxons in that region in order
to protect the City of Brasov, an important trade center. Vlad Tepes used Bran Castle as headquarters for his incursions into Transylvania. This castle should not be mistaken for the actual Castle Dracula (now in ruins), which is located on the Arges River, at Poeinari. This is the real Dracula castle. Situated on an abruptly rising rock north of the village, Poienari can be reached by climbing 1400 steps from the hydroelectric power station  four km north on the road from the village Arefu. The castle is small, one third having collapsed down the mountainside in 1888. The prism shaped tower that remains was Dracula's residential quarters.

Where is Dracula's final resting place?

The general thought among historians that the body of Vlad the Impaler was entombed near the altar in a Snagov Monastery located on an Island in the middle of a lake accessible only by boat. His head was removed and taken to put on display in Constantinople. In 1931-32, archaeologist Dinu Rosetti, under orders from the Romanian Academy, visited the Snagov Monastery in hope of discovering the body of Vlad Dracul. What he discovered was looted graves inside the monastery, local legend told of how the body of Vlad Dracul lay one step in from the doorway of the monastery. Rosetti did not believe this legend, He went to the worn out and hammered tombstone in front of the altar. Rosetti found the grave beneath empty. He researched the floor in front of the entranceway and. found an unlooted unmarked grave of a nobleman. The clothes of the body pointed to a rich man. A ring was identified as a tournament ring of the kind given at Nuremberg. The skeleton however, had its head.

The monastery at Snagov suffers great humidity. Most of the remnants of bodies and skeletons in the monastery have decomposed and much that has been found was beyond recognition. If the body of Dracul was there, it probably rotted into the ground before anyone could ever see it for themselves.  (Unless it walked away under its own power.)

Is there any actual connection between Transylvania and vampires?

The word vampire is not of Romanian origin. It is Slavic, akin to the Serb “vampir” and Russian “upyr.” The territories that comprise Romania are mentioned only briefly in early accounts of vampires; Hungary, Poland, Moravia, Silesia and Serbia appear more frequently. During the nineteenth century, the connections became somewhat more pronounced. Joseph Ennemoser referred in The History of Magic (1854) to Wallachia as the land “where the blood sucking vampire hovered the longest, a superstition of the most revolting kind.”

Romanians usually deny the existence of vampire figures in their folk beliefs. To the modern Romanian, the word vampire refers to a supernatural figure that originates in Western culture and may be extended to describe bloodthirsty murderers. During the Communist regime (up to 1989), vampire fiction (including Dracula) was banned in Romania, as representative of the “decadent” West. In addition, there has been a determination to counteract the notion that Romania is the home of the vampire and that the world’s most notorious vampire (Dracula) bears the nickname of one of Romania’s national heroes. This has created a significant dilemma for Romanian tourism officials who are eager to capitalize on Dracula as a drawing card for foreign visitors, but who face strong opposition at home to presenting Stoker’s Count as a Romanian icon. Nowhere is this better illustrated than in the dispute in Romania over a proposed Dracula theme park.

What is Transylvania really like?

The region is known for the scenic beauty of its Carpathian landscape, by far the most romantic and inspiring of Romania's provinces. Mountain peaks rise up to the sky above wooded valleys and sparkling streams, high-roofed wooden churches and legendary castles. It contains a diverse variety of landscapes, including open hillsides with wild flower meadows, rolling woodland pastures, deciduous and coniferous forests, dramatic gorges and mountains. 

The region is an elevated plateau entirely surrounded by the Transylvanian Alps, a range of the Carpathian Mountains. The mountains curve around the region like a wall and in various places spread over the land. The chief rivers are tributaries of the Tisza. The terrain is suitable for growing fruits, cereal grains, and sugar beets. Wine is also produced, and livestock is raised. Transylvania is rich in minerals, including gold, silver, salt, and coal.

Isaac Newton, Alchemist

One of the lesser known facts about Sir Isaac Newton, the man who is credited with formulating the theory of gravity, is that he was an alchemist. Although he wrote over a million words on the subject, after his death in 1727, the Royal Society deemed that they were "not fit to be printed." The papers were rediscovered in the middle of the twentieth century and most scholars now concede that Newton was first an foremost an alchemist. It is also becoming obvious that the inspiration for Newton's laws of light and theory of gravity came from his alchemical work. As a practicing alchemist, Newton spent days locked up in his laboratory. Some say that he succeeded in changing lead into gold.

Newton's private papers and alchemical treatises indicate that he was motivated by a notion that alchemical wisdom extended back to ancient times, that the Hermetic tradition -- the body of alchemical knowledge – had originated in the mists of time and to have been given to humanity through supernatural agents. Newton translated the Emerald Tablet, a famous alchemical work by Hermes Trismegistus. He also believed in keeping his alchemy principles secret.  

Scale Model of the Solar System

I thought that it might be fun to build a scale mode of the solar system. I decided to use the scale of 10 centimeter = 1 billion meters. I started by obtaining an enormous beach ball (1.4 meters or a little over 3 ft in diameter) as the sun. So I went to a softball field and placed the sun at home plate. Next came Mercury, a grain of sand 6 meters (18 feet) away, a third of the way to the pitcher's mound. Venus was 1.2 mm, a tiny pebble and was 10.7 meters from home plate, halfway to the pitcher's mound. Earth was about the same size 1.3 mm, another tiny pebble. I placed it 15 meters from home plate, three quarters of the distance to the pitcher's mound. Mars was a tiny, tiny pebble (0.6 mm) 22 meters from home plate, just outside the pitcher's mound.

At last I began to deal with some substantial planets. Jupiter was 14 centimeters in diameter, the size of a softball. I placed it 77 meters (253 feet) from home plate. I was now in deep centerfield.  Saturn was 12 cm (5 inches), a slightly smaller ball. I had to leave the field to place it 1.4 km (0.8 miles) away. Uranus was about 6 cm (2.5 inches) and was placed 2.8 km (1.7 miles) from home plate, Neptune was 4.9 cm (2 inches) and 4.5 km (2.8 miles) away. Finally there was poor little Pluto, the dwarf planet, a grain of sand, 5.8 km (3.6 miles away).

Of course, I did this exercise in my head and making calculations of paper. I couldn't be done in real life unless one had a large property such as a farm or an estate to work with. What I think this shows is that the solar system is a really big place.

Twelve Events that Will Change the World?

In the June 2010 of Scientific American there was an article with this title. Here are the events that the authors think will cause drastic changes to our society, and my own opinion concerning these events.

1. Cloning of a human being. Although it is illegal in many countries, sooner or later someone will do this. Personally I do not believe this will have much affect on anything. What is the difference between a cloned human and one born through the process of a fertilized egg by a sperm in a woman? Essentially none. At first there may be a great stir, but after a while, many people will accept the idea, just as did when In Vitro Fertilization and surrogate mothers were introduced. Of course one possible result is that males could become obsolete. This was one of the main themes in my novel The Bagod.
2. The discovery of extra dimensions of space by the largest particle collider. According to the article this would "alter our whole idea of what reality is." Maybe to a particle physicist, but I doubt whether a layman would even know or care.
3. Receiving a signal from an intelligent race somewhere outside the solar system. The likelihood of this happening is very small. I'm not saying that they don't exist. It's just that the universe is so large that communication with an ET is impossible. Let's say that an intelligent being in a star system a thousand light years away (in the neighborhood as stellar distances go). It would broadcast "Hello." By the time we received the signal, transmitted a reply and the ET received it, two thousand years would have gone by. Kind of a halting conversation.
4. Number four, a nuclear exchange, would definitely change the world,. Civilization would go under absolutely, if anyone survived at all. People my age have been living under this sword of Damocles hanging over heads since the nineteen fifties. So far we've escaped unscathed. My question is why do the leaders of nations even want atomic weapons. Is it a prestige thing like when I was a teenager growing up in the city, it was hip or cool to carry a switchblade knife? It strikes me that world leaders are a bunch of adolescents playing at mutual destruction much the same way as a game of chicken played with high-powered cars, except it is everyone's life they risk, not just their own.
5. Creation of life. Move over Frankenstein. Although this would give a comeuppance to those people who say only God can create life, most people would shrug their shoulders and say, "That's interesting," and go on with their lives.
6. Room-temperature superconductors. This would definitely help with our energy problems since electricity could be sent over long distances with little energy loss.
7. Machine self-awareness. Considering the state of artificial intelligence today, computers have a long way to go to reach this point. But some day they may. The question is would they run the world more or less logically than humans have. If my computer software is an early example, I would say less.
8. Polar meltdown. This is going on at faster and faster rate. The only solution is to do as Noah did and build an ark. Yet there are still many people who do not believe that the greenhouse gases we produce are causing global warming. It's not likely that our politicians are going to step up to the plate and do what is needed to stop it.
9. Pacific earthquake of tremendous proportions. This has already happened in Japan and has caused not only the loss of lives from the earthquake and tsunami that followed but also a nuclear disaster. A bad earthquake on our west coast would have similar results. And it is coming. I still cannot understand why my publisher moved from a nice safe place in the Midwest to northern California. 
10. Fusion energy. Yes, it would solve all our energy problems and environmental headaches. But is it possible? I remember a few years back a chemist claimed to have invented cold fusion. Of course, it was a false claim. Also, would we imitate the sun and change hydrogen into helium? What do we do with all that helium?
11. Asteroid collision. This is a real possibility and would be devastating to the human race and might even wipe out all life on earth. What are we doing to prepare for this catastrophe? Nothing! Sigh. You have to love politicians. When it comes to problems like this, they simply stick their heads in the sand and hope for the best.
12. Deadly pandemic. We've had a few scares in the past couple of years. There was the swine flu and the bird flu. Both of which turned out to not be very pandemic. I suppose a really pandemic could occur. Again, I do not see much movement to do anything to prepare for one. In this day of modern medicine, I doubt though that a pandemic would be as bad as past ones have been. But I am an optimist.

Thought Experiments

In a recent Scientific American, I came across an article with the title "Thought Experiments." I had read that Einstein had come up with his Theory of Relativity by using "thought experiments." Of course, his theory has been deemed correct by actual experiments. Until then, it was simply a theory.

What baffled me though about the article was the subheading which was "Some philosophers are doing more than thinking deeply. They are also conducting scientific experiments relating to the nature of free will and of good and evil." What!? This sounded like something I would read in magazine about philosophy or religion, not in a magazine devoted to science.

In the first place, a "thought experiment" is not science, but speculation perhaps bolstered by mathematics as in Einstein's case. This is the kind of thing philosophers, science fiction writers, futurists, prophets and other imaginative thinkers have been doing for thousands of years. One notable "thought experiment" is Rene Descartes' reasoning from "I think therefore I am" as the one irrefutable assumption to several other conclusions, all of which were refuted by later philosophers.

As to the "nature of free will," I believe psychologists have been doing actual experiments on this for some time without coming to any definite conclusions. Philosophers have debated "free will" to death. And then when the author throws in "good and evil" in the mix, these terms have no intrinsic meaning. Every person on this planet has a different idea of what is good and what is evil.

I read further in the article and find that persons the author calls "experimental philosophers" team up with psychologists and publish in journals. "They have spawned hundreds of papers and come up with surprising results and some strong opinions on every side." Note that he does not say that they have come up with any actual scientific facts.

The article blabs on this fashion for three pages, mixing "thought experiments" with some actual studies in psychology in this strange manner. He concludes with "... it can sometimes be helpful, and occasionally indispensable, to have a better understanding of the cognitive processes that give rise to these beliefs." Duh!

Shame on you Scientific American for printing such nonsense.     

Test for Conciousness

One of the most popular themes in science fiction is the robot or computer who develops consciousness, usually to the detriment of humanity, but not always. I've written such stories myself. In For the Love of Kumiko a man falls in love with a sentient android who eventually wishes to be free. The Isaac Project is about the development of a sentient robot. A well known example by another author are the robot novels by Isaac Asimov. Recently the SyFy channel broadcast a series called Caprica.  There are many more examples, too numerous to mention.

In a recent Scientific American article by Christof Koch and Giulo Tomoni, the question is asked, how do we test for consciousness. In other words, how will we know when we have developed a sentient robot or computer? They point out that computers today can do amazing things. Some examples are Big Blue that beat the world's champion at chess and Watson who is a whiz at the television quiz game Jeopardy. The problem with these artificial intelligences is that their intelligence is much too narrow to be considered sentient. They are more like insects that respond to certain stimulus but are unable to adapt to unfamiliar experiences. Actually, insects are probably more adaptable than these machines.

One test that the authors propose is to show our robot a set of photographs in which some things are way out of whack, such as a man floating in midair in a business suit checking the time on his wristwatch. A human, even at a young age, immediately knows that the picture is not reality.

One of pioneers of artificial intelligence, Alan Turing, proposed that instead of asking whether an AI can think, the question should be whether a machine, when queried, will give answers that cannot be distinguished from a human's. The way the test is administered is that a person communicates electronically with an entity out of his or her sight. The subject may ask anything he or she likes. If the subject cannot tell that he or she is talking to a machine, the AI is said to "think."

The authors propose an integrated information theory of consciousness. Many people have an intuitive understanding that the subjective, phenomenal states that make up every day experience relates to how the brain integrates incoming sensory signals with information from memory into a cohesive picture of the world. To be conscious an entity must have a large repertoire of information. This is where the weird pictures come into play.  Any normal six-year-old can tell you what is wrong in the picture. No current AI is intelligent enough to do so.

The Paranoid Era

I believe the decade starting with 2010 will be known in the future as the Paranoid Decade (that is if we have a future). Perhaps it's the nature of modern TV news programs and other media to harp on events that may cause problems. Some are real, some are hoaxes and some are minor difficulties that are overblown. We are told daily that terrorists are coming to get us, that we're all going to die from eating too many hamburgers or from global warming, that our kids are the victims of bullies (like this something new) and that illegal immigrants are going to take our jobs after they rob us and collect welfare. This is besides an all-out atomic war or the earth being struck by a killer asteroid.

This paranoid fever has finally reached Scientific American. In an article about security on the internet, it states that computer viruses and mallware are pretty much unstoppable. The hackers that create them are making them more devious and malevolent. Besides stealing our identity and our money, they can be used to stops power company generators from working, turn guided missiles back on their launchers and blow-up refineries. The article states, "We truly cannot trust anything." Wow! If that's not a truly paranoid statement, I don't know what is.

We've been led to believe that lowering our bad cholesterol and raising our good cholesterol would save us from having a heart attack. Not necessarily so says an article in SA. Recent studies have shown that there are many other factors involved that your doctor is probably not telling you about.

Another article pointed out that the world population is still expanding exponentially, while the food supply is diminishing due to over fishing, higher demand, use of crops for biofuels and so forth.

On the economic front, an article claims that one of the factors that caused the economic collapse of 2008, was flawed mathematical formulas used by financial investment firms. The article states, "Financial investment firms had developed such complex ways of investing their client's money that they came to rely on arcane formulas to judge the risks they were taking on." It also states that banks and investment firms are leading the global economy into a future that is at great risk of repeating the past. Recession now, depression on its way.

Scary stuff huh? Worry, worry, worry.

    

Happy Days Part Three

      After basic training I was sent to Fort Monmouth to learn to operate and maintain microwave communication equipment. The classes were interesting, but the camp was very spit and polish. They had large consolidated mess halls, which meant that when I pulled KP, which was fairly often, I was there from before dawn until late at night, with few breaks. Every Saturday a big parade would be held that everyone had to march in. On the other hand, the base was only one hours ride on the bus to New York City. Hence, almost every weekend that I had off, I headed for The Big Apple.

      During the holidays, I was granted leave to go home to marry Alice, the love of my life. The wedding was small. We were married in a Baptist Church with mainly relatives and a few close friends in attendance. I wore my army dress uniform, and Alice wore a pink suit. The reception was held in a restaurant. But, we were in love and thought it was great.

A couple of days after the wedding, I had to report back to Fort Monmouth. Alice came with me to New Jersey. We rented a room in Long Branch, with cooking facilities in the basement. Two guys in my class at microwave school also lived there. We also became fast friends with another couple that lived there.

      On the night we arrived, we found that the window was broken. I covered the broken pane with cardboard. Also, we did not have sheets that first night. Some drunken friends from my class knocked on their door in the middle of the night giggling and making stupid remarks. However, they gave us a wedding present that included bed sheets.

      When my graduation from microwave school neared, I learned that I was going to be sent to Germany. Alice returned to Chicago, and I was sent overseas in a troop ship. The worst part of the troop ship was the fact that we were crowded into the hold of the ship which had little ventilation. As a result, there was always the stench of vomit from the seasick. Because of this I spent as much time as possible on deck. During that time, I wrote Alice long, long love letters each day that we were at sea. One Italian guy from Brooklyn was very funny. He used to go around saying, “Watta we, gaw-bage.”

      After ten days in the North Atlantic, the ship landed in Bremerhaven, Germany, where I awaited my assignment. During this time, I went bowling with another soldier. Not realizing how strong German beer was, I got drunk on a couple of beers. From Bremerhaven I was sent to Karlsruhl, Germany for more schooling specific to the type of microwave equipment that I would be working on. One funny thing that happened while I was there; a shepherd brought his herd of sheep onto the base leaving a real mess of sheep manure in the street between the barracks.

      When I finished my schooling, I was assigned to maneuvers, which meant my outfit took trailers full of microwave equipment out in the country and set it up there. The major in charge of this operation was an alcoholic whose hands trembled in the morning until he had his first drink. In one place they had set up, the sergeant had the latrines dug out in the open instead of in the woods. One day I was sitting there doing my business, and a German hiker came by and waved to me. Also, a glider club held their outings on this hill. One day the outfit was inundated with Germans with gliders. Also, whenever the major would arrive by helicopter, curious Germans appeared out of nowhere. When we was ready to move the equipment to another location, we were supposed to wait for an engineering outfit to take the microwave tower down, but the cocky major got impatient and decided that his outfit could do it by themselves. He had the tower hitched to jeeps by wires. Something happened when it was tipped at forty-five degree angle, a wire broke or the jeeps couldn’t hold it, and it came crashing down, breaking the microwave dish.

      About this time Alice was preparing to come to Germany to join me. I tried to get an apartment in Karlsruhl because I thought that was where I would be stationed. But I was sent back on maneuvers and wasn’t sure whether I could even get leave to meet Alice at the airport. Finally I received permission to meet her plane at Frankfort Airport, which at that time was quite small. When Alice disembarked, she and I fell into each other’s arms. I brought her back to Karlsruhl, and we stayed in a German hotel. Too soon I had to return to duty and another trip into the wilds, while poor Alice had to stay in a hotel where no one spoke English.

      The place that my outfit set up the microwave equipment was on a wooded mountain outside of an air base. Then disaster struck. One evening, I and four other guys decided to take a truck down to a Gasthaus (tavern) at the bottom of the hill. This was a real German place where they served potent beer in liter steins. As a result we all got plastered. It was a cold night, so we decided we could fit everybody in the cab rather than having people in the truck bed and freezing.  I sat on the right with the mess sergeant Peter on my lap, and we headed up the mountain.

I fell asleep. Suddenly my head snapped back and banged against metal. A sharp pain shot up my right arm. Then everything was peaceful; too peaceful. We should be moving, bumping along the mountain trail. Still groggy from beer, I tried to sit up, but something bulky was pressing me down. When i opened my eyes, he sobered instantly. That something pinning him to the seat was the inert body of Pete. His head and shoulders were stuck through the truck’s smashed windshield. At first he seemed lifeless. But then his back heaved slightly. With a rasping snort, his breath came slow and irregular. I sighed with relief that he was alive.

      The other two passengers were on Junior’s left in a twisted heap. Ray, the driver, however, was gone. “Ray,” I called. There was no answer. Dimly I saw that the door on the driver’s side was swinging. On my side, the exit was blocked by the rigid oak we had hit. I was trapped between the wreckage and the unconscious men. Although I was numb from cold, moisture formed on my forehead and palms. Don’t panic, I told himself. Ray will be back soon with help.

      Hours seemed to pass before I heard footsteps. Someone flashed a light in my face. “I’m stuck,” I said. “Get Pete, he’s hurt bad.”

      Working slowly the rescuers pried my buddies loose from the contorted steel. Once my exit was unobstructed, I slid sideways to escape, but my spine became jelly, and I collapsed. Carefully the medics lifted me onto the frozen ground. As I lay there with my shoulder hurting, I asked for a cigarette.

“Too much gas around,” replied the sympathetic Air Force sergeant bending over me.  “I’m afraid to light a match. The ambulance should be here any minute.”

      Ill from the smell of gasoline and desiring a cigarette, time dragged slowly. Soon, however, I found himself in the emergency ward of Landstuhl Army Hospital with an IV in my arm. Exhausted, but too uncomfortable to sleep, I waited for the dawn. As I lay there, I worried about Alice. Would they be able to find her to notify her what had happened? By morning, I drifted into a nightmare filled half sleep. I was awakened by resonant voice of my company executive officer. “How are you feeling, Vadalma?” he asked.

      I managed a feeble grin. “A little under the weather, Sir. Captain, how’s Pete?”

      “He’s in bad shape, but out of danger. The other men are doing well.” The deep lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. With a sly grin, he said, “I know you’d love to keep chatting, but you’ve got another visitor.”

      I turned my head and almost cried with pleasure. Standing by my bed was Alice, looking very beautiful although her chestnut hair was disheveled and her deep blue eyes red rimmed. She bent down and kissed me hard, took my hand and said, “Everything’s going to be fine, Honey.”

      I was in the broken bone ward, which meant that no one was really sick, only injured. My injuries included a dislocated shoulder and a hairline crack in his pelvis. The doctors put a body cast on me with a rod that held up my arm until my shoulder healed. Alice came to visit every day. She was billeted at the local BOQ (bachelor’s office quarters), which was really a hotel for people visiting patients. Around the second day, my back start hurting, and I had trouble breathing. The doctors discovered that I had a collapsed lung. Before they took me to the operating room to fix the problem, they gave me morphine. I was talking to Alice and then nothing. Suddenly I was back in my hospital bed, continuing the conversation as though nothing had happened.

      Alice and I made good friends in that hospital. One Air Force guy, Pat, had a crush on Alice. He asked me whether she was my sister and followed her around. He had a broken collar bone so that the cast that he had on made his arms stick out. Another Air Force guy, Jimmy, had a broken leg. He was also in an accident.

      After I had healed some and was in recovery, I could get passes to go into town. One of the guys said his girl friend worked in a certain bar. So a bunch of the recuperating men and Alice went to that bar. It turned out that his girl friend was a topless dancer. Also, the place was raided by the M.P.s (military police) after we left. Alice and I went out with some other guys too. One night Pat, Alice and I got a little smashed. Somehow a drink got spilled on Alice’s lap, and we rushed her out of that place and got the giggles about the incident.

The End of Secrecy

As I watch and read the news lately, I'm struck by how much confidential information is part and parcel of it. One day it was the Murdoch scandal where reporters from a tabloid had hacked into a victim's cell phone. Another week it was a congressman who got caught posting erotic pictures of himself on Twitter. A few months back, Wikileaks posted classified documents from the State Department. And so on and so on.

In addition new types of crime have become prevalent, such stealing personal information by hacking into various web sites.

In addition, many repressive regimes are unable to control information coming from and going to other lands. This has been the greatest asset of those rebelling against their policies.

All of this has to do with the information age where information, even when hidden, can be obtained by those who seek it out such as reporters and even average citizens. The time seems to be coming when secrecy whether by governments, corporations or private citizens is dead. Nothing can be hidden.

Personally, I think this is a good thing. If we know what those in power are really up to, it can only aid us who are down in the trenches. 

Catch-22s of the Free Enterprize System

Sometimes when I read some of the silly statements that are written about economics, even by so-called experts, I have to wonder. Mostly, I feel that very few look at the big picture. For one thing, they write about such things as "labor" or "business" or "consumers" and so forth as though these things did not consist of human beings and were somehow not related to each other.

Basically economics consist of supply and demand. If you are selling a product or service, the price you will get for it depends upon whether prospective buyers want or need the product; that is the demand. The other factor is the amount of the product or service available. The price goes up when demand is high and supply is low. It goes down when demand is low or supply is high. A good example of this is in my field, writing. The demand for written material is fairly high, but sadly too many authors are producing more than can be sold. So, for most authors, prices for their books and e-books are low compared to the effort put into their production.

The other basic tenet of economics is that profits are based on the monetary value of the quantity of items sold minus the cost of producing the items. For example, if I sell ten widgets that sell for a dollar a piece and the cost of making those widgets including overhead expenses and advertising is ninety cents, my profit is one dollar.

This brings me to the first catch-22 of the free market economy. One of the biggest expenses for most manufacturers and retailers is labor costs. Many businesses will cut costs by laying off people and moving their base of operations to a country where labor

is cheaper. The catch-22 here is that employees are also consumers. With no salary they cannot afford to buy stuff. If many businesses cut costs in this manner, former employees (consumers) can no longer afford to buy what is offered, and you have a recession. That is why the "trickle down" theory of economics does not work. You may reduce taxes for corporations, but what good does the extra money do if nobody is buying their products?

There is a truth that says, "money goes to money." Supposedly, in our economic system everyone has an equal chance to become wealthy. This is ridiculous. People who have money to begin with have a thousand times better chance of becoming wealthier or at least staying rich than a poor person has of even getting mildly well off. The poor have less access to education, don't have connections to people who can smooth their way through life, and are less likely to even get employment since many are minorities who are discriminated against. Also, they are usually unable to present themselves to a prospective employer in a manner that a middleclass or rich person can.

Many conservatives advocate taxing the wealthy less and giving less to poor people. This is a recipe for economic disaster. Very wealthy people must make a real effort to spend their money; usually they save most of it to give to their heirs. Poor people and many middleclass people, on the other hand, spend every penny they can lay their hands on and usually go into debt. Spending is what drives the economy, not saving. 

Even those who advocate a free laissez faire economy don't believe their own propaganda. When a large bank or corporation is on the brink of failure due to bad policies by the people who run them, they are the first ones to cry to the federal government to bail them out, with the claim that such-and-such company is too big to fail.

Another catch-22 of the corporate economic system is that the people who run large corporations are out for their own profit even if the stockholders suffer in the long run. They cook the books and use various schemes to make the company seem as though it is making money even when it is really losing it or making bad investments. Thus their huge bonuses and golden parachutes are ensured. Most of these people came up the corporate ladder not by their ability to manage but by their ability to play office politics.

The final and most important catch-22 is the monopoly power of large banks and corporations. They and their lobbyists have the ears of the people in government, Democrats as well as Republicans. In a sense, they are the government. Politicians need their money to get reelected. They own the media. They hire the best propagandists in the world, the Madison Avenue advertising firms.

We should listen to the words of Thomas Jefferson, the greatest of our founding fathers:  

"Experience demands that man is the only animal which devours his own kind, for I can apply no milder term to the general prey of the rich on the poor."

"Experience hath shewn, that even under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have, in time, and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny."
 

"I hope we shall crush in its birth the aristocracy of our monied corporations which dare already to challenge our government to a trial by strength, and bid defiance to the laws of our country."
 

Seven Deadly Sins and Apple Pie

 

The seven deadly sins, as proposed by Pope Gregory the Great in the sixth century, are pride, envy, anger, sloth, greed, gluttony and lust. Although these sins lead down the path to hell, they are not only committed every day by many Americans, but encouraged by our culture. Hence, my premise is that the seven deadly sins are as American as apple pie.

We pride ourselves as a Godly people, generous and kind, favored above all other nations by the Almighty. Ah, but isn't this the deadly sin of pride. We're proud of our country. In war we say, "My country, right or wrong." We encourage pride of our sports teams, of our school, of our workplace and above all ourselves. It's common these days to talk of self-esteem. What is self-esteem, but pride in ourselves?

Our capitalist system encourages Americans to envy those who have material possessions that we lack. The essence of advertising is to induce envy. We are bombarded night and day with advertising. We hide beautiful scenery behind billboards, ten minutes out every half hour on television is devoted to advertising, most of our Sunday newspaper consists of commercial flyers, the Internet flings advertising at us from every direction.

Many Americans are angry and full of hate. They hate the people of countries whose leaders have quarrels with American policy. They hate people who are different from themselves, people with a different shade of skin, people who worship differently or don't believe in a deity at all, people whose sexual orientation is toward their own sex, people whose ancestors came from a land different from their own ancestors and above all people whose philosophy and political view differs from theirs. I've spoken to people who say we should drop bombs and torture people of nations who they consider America's enemies.

Sloth and gluttony go hand in hand. Look around. Americans are getting fatter and lazier every day despite exhortation by the government and news media about the bad health effects of bad diet and lack of exercise. Of course, on the other hand, a good percentage of advertising is for fast food restaurants, luxury automobiles, labor saving devices, sweets, and alcoholic beverages. Video games, computers, high-definition television keep us sitting for hours in front of a cathode-ray-tube.

Greed is the essence of the American way. No matter how wealthy and materially well offwe are we want more. We're the richest nation in the world, yet we begrudge sharing any of our wealth with people of other countries. People cheat, steal and perform any sort of immoral, dangerous or disgusting act for money. Look at some of our popular television shows, The Apprentice, Fear Factor, The Price is Right, are all based on the premise that people will do anything for money. Las Vegas, state lotteries, and church bingo depend on people's greed to prosper.

Finally, there is lust. Again we're encouraged by advertising, television and movies to lust. Sex exploitation is everywhere in our society. The advertising man knows that "Sex sells." 

There you have it. As you can see, we love our deadly sins. Perhaps, instead of "God Bless America," the motto should be changed to "Satan Loves Americans."

Recipe for Disaster

Contrary to the propaganda put out by Fox News and the Tea Party advocates, it is not government that is driving our country into becoming a third world land. One of their favorite sayings is that large corporations and wealthy people are "job creators." Nothing could be further than the truth. For example, in the first ten years after Wal-Mart came to Iowa, that state lost 555 grocery stores, 298 building supply stores, 161 variety stores, 158 women's apparel stores, 116 drug stores, and 111 men's apparel stores. Now such huge retailers have multiplied all over the country. In addition, most of the products sold are made in countries outside the United States. And we wonder why unemployment is so high.

Because government does not regulate polluters effectively, mainly due to obstructionism and lobbying by the advocates for big business, especially big oil, there are less than 4% of our original forests left, there are over 100,000 synthetic chemicals in commerce of which only a handful have been tested for human health impacts, and 4 billion pounds of toxic chemicals each year. Forty percent of the water in waterways in the US has become undrinkable.

We are our own worst enemies. With 5% of the world's population, Americans consume 80% of the resources and create 80% of the waste. If the entire world consumed as much as Americans, we would need three to five planets to sustain us. The average person in the US consumes twice as much as he or she did fifty years ago. We see more advertisements in one year than people saw in a lifetime fifty years ago. We spend three to four times as many hours shopping than our counterparts in Europe do. Average house size has doubled since the 1970s. Each person in the US makes 4.5 pounds of garbage a day, twice as much as we did 20 years ago. And for every one can of garbage a household puts out, 70 cans of garbage was required to make the junk we throw out.

Drowning in Advertising

If you take a ride in the country in Europe, to an American it seems like something is missing. Finally you realize what it is. There are no billboards to spoil the scenery. Nowhere except in America are people inundated with propaganda night and day. What is worse, because we've become so used to being overwhelmed with the stuff, Madison Avenue and others keeps thinking up more ways to get our attention to buy their products. 

Take the Sunday newspaper, for example. My paper delivery person struggles under the heavy load of thick bundles of newsprint. After I take out all the ads, about five thin sheets are left and even those have advertisements on them. Every day, when I go to my mailbox, I pull out tons of junk mail, most of which goes directly into the recycling bin. Out of every hour of television being broadcast, twenty minutes is devoted to advertising. And even when no commercials are on, shows like the morning network news are mostly devoted to demonstrating various products or are come-ons for new movies or TV shows. Even theaters that show movies now put on ads before the feature. Video tapes and DVDs contain advertisements.

And the Internet is almost all advertising. When I go to get my E-mail, besides the usual tons of Spam, there are pop-up ads that cover the ads already on the web site. Does that make sense? Now, with everyone having a cell phone glued to their ears, I'm sure someone will find a way to broadcast commercials during lulls in the conversation.

Don't get me started on telemarketers. They invariably call in the middle of a meal. When you tell them that you're not interested, they keep on talking. Then they wonder why you hang up.

Now they have robots to do the talking.

Yes, we Americans are drowning in advertising, which inspired me to write a short story, Psychic Pop-Up. Here it is:

George Slimey was somewhat daunted by Pricella Lucretia, vice-president of sales of the Pharmaceutical Institute Laboratories Ltd., his largest client. She had jet black hair twisted into a complicated bun, a pinstriped power business suit over her overabundant curves, thick red lipstick in a mouth twisted into an expression of contempt and mascara laid on so thick her eyes seemed sunken in her pale skin. There was something almost demon-like about her. She lit up one of her skinny evil-smelling cigars with a gold lighter. She pointed it at Slimey. "What we want are results. Not bee ess. Despite all the money we've tossed down the drain, your ad campaign, flashy as it is, has not done anything for sales on Perkup. In fact, last months sales dropped to their lowest point. This is your last chance, Slimey. Next month we move to another agency."

            The product she alluded to was a dietary supplement which was touted as a pill that energized a person, gave them feelings of well-being, ensured rapid weight-loss without dieting or exercise,  lowered cholesterol, rid the person of wrinkles, improved sexual performance and slowed aging. Actually, no valid scientific tests except PILL's own lab reports had ever shown that it did any of those things. On the other hand, the side effects were horrendous, dry mouth, palpitations, itchy rashes, stomach cramps, diarrhea, possible blood clots leading to heart attack or stroke. Although it had been hushed up by handing large sums of money to their relatives, two healthy test subjects had died twenty-four hours after taking it. Originally it had been developed as a chemotherapy agent to fight colon cancer. Not only was it ineffective in fighting the disease, the cancer cells actually seemed to spread faster with its use. Also its effect on the patients was devastating; some autopsy results seemed to show that the people who had been taking it, might've died, not from the cancer, but from the product. Since PILL had produced an over abundance of the substance, upper management decided to market it as a supplement.

            Slimey rolled his eyes and smiled sickly. "You must give us time, Pricella ..."

            "I don't like familiarities from business associates. Ms. Lucretia, if you please." She puffed out black smoke into Slimey's face.

            "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. But, as I was saying, we need to get the campaign rolling."

            "So you say." Her face became as red and ugly as a lobster with outrage. Smoke from her cigar curled around her head to form horns. When she opened her mouth, her pointed bicuspids seemed extra long, and her tongue flicked in and out like a snake's. "As I said, because you've done well in the past, we're allowing you an extra month. If sales don't improve by a week from today, it's ..." She slid her forefinger with its long sharp nail across her windpipe.

            Slimey wiped perspiration from his brow. "Don't worry, Pri... Ms. Lucretia, Slimey Enterprises has never let a client down."

 ***

            After Lucretia left, Slimey called Robert Kissheiny, the account executive, into his office. "Bob, how's everything going with the PILL account?"

            Kissheiny smiled pleasantly. "Splendidly, George. Things couldn't be better."

            Slimey pounded his fist on the desk. "Crap. That evil female, Pricella Lucretia, was just here." He shook a finger at Kissheiny. "She complained that sales have been awful on Perkup."

            Kissheiny's face drooped until he resembled an aging bloodhound. "Oh, Perkup. Sorry George, I thought you meant their other products."

            "Look Bob, PILL is our largest client, and Perkup is the product they want results on. I placed you in charge because I thought you were our most competent ad exec. If we lose this client, not only will you be out on the street, but I'll personally see that you never work in advertising again. What exactly is the problem?"

            Kissheiny looked about to burst into tears. "It's the product itself, Mister Slimey. Word has sort of leaked out about its ... uh ... less desirable characteristics. We've tried everything to laud its marvelous curative powers. We've run humorous ads on TV day and night -- including, mind you -- during the Super Bowl, put full size spreads in newspapers and magazine, had telemarketers call people at all hours of the day and night, put pop-up ads that are impossible to suppress on all the most popular web sites, and constructed huge billboards on all the most scenic highways. Our salesman have lavished huge gifts on physicians in every major city to recommend Perkup to their patients. We even tried sky writing. Nothing seems to work."

            Slimey rubbed his chin. "The trouble is that none of those things actually make the consumer buy the product. Some of our surveys seem to show that people resent saturation advertising for some reason. I don't know what this country is coming to. Anyway, the onus is on you, Kissheiny. You've got to come up with some new ideas. Or else ..." He slid a finger across his Adam's apple.           

***

            Kissheiny spent the rest of the afternoon at his desk staring out the window, hardly moving except to chain smoke several packs of cigarettes. He knew his career was in the toilet. He'd tried every approach he could think of to sell that poison, Perkup. By next month, there would be no more six digit salary, no more luxury limo complete with driver, no more wood paneled office with its own bathroom and shower, no more thousand dollar tailored suits, no more dates with beautiful models. He'd be back on the streets selling cheap watches out of a suitcase. He racked his brain for some new method to get the public to buy Perkup, but came up empty.

            He unlocked the bottom left hand drawer of his desk and slid it open. He stared into it at the items lying there; a revolver, a package of shells for it, and a bottle of Jack Daniels. He took out the whiskey, took a big pull and replaced it. He removed the pistol and shells, slowly loaded the pistol and raised it to his head. Before he could squeeze the trigger, his secretary buzzed him. "Yes, Doris," he said in a quaking voice.

            "There's a woman here to see you. A Madam Zolarago. She says she has an appointment, but I can't find her listed on your calendar."

            Madam Zolarago, he thought. He'd forgotten that he'd made an appointment with a new psychic. He was a great believer in astrology and the occult and often visited psychics. Quickly, he put the gun away and locked the drawer. "Send her in."

            Madam Zolarago was a middle-aged woman on the plump side with enormous breasts, wearing too much jewelry, too much makeup and unfashionable garments. Thick black unruly hair hung to her waist. Dark eyes gazed intensely at Kissheiny in a way that made him uncomfortable so that he had to turn away.

            Nonetheless, he rose and put out his hand. "Good afternoon, Madam Zolargo. I'm sorry, but I almost forgotten our appointment. I've had a lot of things on my mind lately."

            As she shook his hand with pointed carmine nails like stilettos, she said, "I see that Mister Kissheiny. You seem to be a troubled man. Your aura is very dark."

            "You're quite right. Some business problems ..."

            She plumped down in a guest chair without being asked. "Perhaps I can help. Although I sense a troubled soul, I see a great light in your future. Sometimes things seem darkest just before the dawn -- as the adage goes."

            Her saying that seemed to take some of horror of his situation off his shoulders. Perhaps she was right. What was it that Slimey was always saying? Oh yes. There are no problems, only opportunities. If he could come up with a unique method for getting people to purchase Perkup, he'd be a hero, probably get a huge bonus of stock options. If Madam Zolarago could predict the future, maybe she saw the solution.

            After swearing her to secrecy, he told her his dilemma with Perkup.

            She placed her fingers to her temple and went into a trance. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. "Yes, that's it. You must see Professor Belial at the university."

            "Professor Belial?"

            "Yes. He's a friend of mine. You may mention my name. He has something. I'm not sure what it is exactly. But I have a vision. In my vision, I see a look of delight on both your faces when he tells you of his discovery."

            Kissheiny became excited. He hoped she was right ... but of course, she was right. After all, she was a medium with an excellent reputation among true believers like himself. "Really? Thank you, Madam Zolarago. By the way, how much is your fee?"

            She waved her hand. "I never charge a fee. I simply enjoy helping people. Of course, if you would like to give a donation to my nonprofit organization."

            "Of course, of course. How shall I make out the check?"

            "Madam Zolargo's Psychic Institute."

            He was feeling expansive and wrote the check out for a substantial amount. He felt as though Madam Zolargo had saved his life.

***

            Professor Belial's office was in an obscure corner of the university, in a basement actually, after Kissheiny made his way through a labyrinth of corridors, laboratories and stairwells. The room itself was gloomy and a mess. Hundreds of ancient books lined the walls and spilled over onto the floor. Belial's desk was covered with them along with charts, strange talismans, broken pencils and a large magnifying glass. Belial himself, as he stood to greet Kissheiny, was tall with shoulder-length brown hair, a VanDyck style beard and mustache, elf-like ears and the most penetrating eyes Kissheiny had ever seen under bushy eyebrows.

            "Madam Zolargo recommended you to me," Kissheiny said after their initial greetings.

            "Yes, she told me." Belial's voice was a deep baritone that somehow seemed to fit his sharp features and cruel mouth. "Are you interested in the supernatural, Mister Kissheiny? That is what I do, y'know. Psychic research."

            "I am, but she told me that you've made a recent discovery that may help me in my business."

            "May I ask what business you're in?"

            "Advertising. I'm an account executive at an agency."

            Belial stroked his beard. "Yes, I suppose that my discovery could be an aid in your business. I never thought of it in practical terms before. I was simply doing pure research."

            Kissheiny brightened up considerably. Perhaps Madam Zolargo had been right. He had been having doubts. "What's this discovery?"

            "Are you familiar with the term, human aura?"

            "Yes, it's like emanations given off by the soul."

            "Actually the aura and the soul are the same thing. But, as you say, it gives off emanations. In people with strong ESP potential, these emanations can be intercepted by them. I have found that these emanations can be amplified to the point that thought transfer or telepathy can be done by anyone through my Psychic Enhancer. Would you like to experience a demonstration?"

            "Yes. Of course." Kissheiny felt that this all very interesting, but he wondered how it could help him sell Perkup.

            Belial went to a cabinet and brought a metallic box that contained several dials and meters. He plugged it in a wall socket and attached an aluminum band which he placed on his head. Suddenly, a voice in Kissheiny's mind said, "Are you receiving my thoughts?"

            "Oh my! That's something. It's as though you were speaking directly to my brain."

            "Not you brain, your aura," the voice in his head said.

            Belial removed the band and turned off the machine. "Well, what do you think?"

            An idea began to form in Kissheiny's mind. "Suppose this enhancer of yours was increased in power, could it direct your thoughts to several people -- at say a great distance?"

            Belial twisted his mustache. "I imagine so. I've never tried. It would be an interesting experiment though."

            "How would you like to become a millionaire?"

            "A millionaire? Surely, you're joking."

            "No. If it can do what I think it can do, you and I will be rolling in dough."

            Kissheiny put Belial on the company payroll as a consultant. He hired an engineering firm to build a duplicate of Belial's machine only with a thousand times more power. It was ready in a week.

***

            Robert Drudge was at his desk shuffling papers from his in-box to his out-box, when a sudden thought came to him out of the blue, almost like a voice in his head. It said, "Want to improve yourself. Get a better job. Take Perkup." Right after work, he went to the pharmacy around the corner.

            Oliver Crude and his mistress were going at it hot and heavy in a hotel room. It was taking him a while to get to the point of the whole thing, when suddenly he rolled off of her and cried, "I know what I need. Some Perkup. I'll be back in a little while, baby. There's something I have to get at the drugstore."

            Hundreds of similar scenes were happening all over the city. Pharmacies and other stores that sold Perkup were getting more customers than they could handle and soon ran out of the supplement. Orders came into PILL faster than they could be filled. The manufacturing division went to three shifts to keep up. Doctors' offices were jammed with patients with symptoms described in the small print on the Perkup labels. Several seemingly healthy people died suddenly from a mysterious malady that had health officials scratching their heads.

***

            Pricella Lucretia flicked ashes somewhere near the tray on Slimey's desk. "Well Slimey, I have to congratulate you. Your ad campaign is finally doing some good. Bring out your contract, I'm ready to sign for another year. In fact, we've got a new product in the works called Zoom which we'll have ready to market as soon as we have the bugs to worked out. We had to fire the head of the research staff. He kept putting out reports that said that Zoom was dangerous even to handle. Can you beat that? What a fool."

            "Yes. Good help is hard to get. Some people choose integrity above company loyalty. Not my employees though. I weed out the bad apples quickly. As far as our ad campaign, far be from me to crow, but it was simply a matter of a new approach that I came up with the account exec."

            Actually Slimey had no idea how Kissheiny had turned things around. He made a note to ask him soon. He slid the new contract over to Lucretia. She read it over carefully and placed it on the desk to sign. As Slimey handed her a pen, she suddenly put her hand to her head and looked pained.

            "What's the matter, Pricella? Aren't you feeling well?"

            She grimaced at him. "I've got to see my psychiatrist. Lately I've been hearing voices in my head telling me to take Perkup. I must be having a breakdown." She quickly signed the contract and left the office in such a hurry that Slimey didn't have time to tell her that he had also been hearing voices. I wonder who her shrink is, he thought. Maybe I should see one too. It's the stress of this job. It gets to you after a while.

***

            After the success of Perkup, Kissheiny realized what a gold mine he really had with Belial's invention. Any product could be sold that way. People could ignore TV, radio and newspaper ads, hang up on telemarketers and buy antipopup software for their computers, but they could not ignore what was in their heads. He resigned Slimey Marketing and opened a new ad agency in partnership with Belial called Psychic Advertising Industries Network (PAIN for short). When word got around about his success with PILL's premier product, clients by the hundreds waited outside his door to sign up.

            At first he kept the Psychic Enhancer a secret, but soon industrial spies obtained the plans. Their employers made incremental improvements to get around patent infringements and began their own mental ad campaigns. Before long, everything was advertised in this manner. This had a disastrous effect on civilization. People's head became filled with slogans and jingles and nothing else. No one could think of anything else but the crazy ads in their brain, which became more numerous, louder and more insane every day.

            And that's the true story of how twenty-first century civilization ended -- not with the holocaust of an atomic war, not with a mile long meteor slamming into New York City, not with coastal cities being inundated by the rising of the oceans, not with people gasping for breaths due to pollution from automobiles and industrial plants, but by walking around like zombies unable to think about anything except soda pop, hamburgers, stomach remedies, sexy cars and other products that filled their otherwise empty heads.

            Actually, not much had changed from before the Psychic Enhancer came into general use. 

The End