Friday, April 13, 2007

In which the serial killer has learnt precision by being a fugu chef

Numble-Pumble was reading the newspaper. There was a new kind of weapon. One that could kill through sound. It was one cell. A cancer cell. A mutation cell. It would allow the ears to hear only a high pitched sound. The same sound that buzzes in your head sometimes. Sound only at the natural frequency of the brain. Numble-Pumble used the article as toilet paper.
Have you ever typed anything out on a computer? If the answer is a yes, good, you are already half way there. Imagine (picture - genesis) that you continue to type things out on a computer right… and like the part of the human timeline that we are in is a damned good bedfellow of the whole “typing things out on the computer” idea. You will type so much out that, one day, you will reach a stage where you don’t need to look at the screen to type. You don’t even need to look at the key-board to type. You can type with your eyes closed if you want. You can type lying down on the bed. Can you type in your sleep one day? Do you always type in your sleep anyway? Does the computer induce you a trance, that takes you over with its hypnotism the moment your human fingers touch a single black square? Imagine a gigantic mountain range of automated hammers. The range has ten monumental, pivoted hammers. These rain down blows on a peppered and parched earth below. The rotting blood of the dinosaurs (terrible – lizards) decayed under centuries of gaian force, were brought to the surface from their decaying hell holes by humans in the search of oil. This oil that has been sucked out from beneath our feet, is processed, and turned into a very useful thing called plastic. Plastic can be made to become currency, cow fodder, Tupperware, jewelry, musical instruments, weapons, clothing, but most inconveniently of all, your keys. The earth is a minefield of plastic. There is a thin coating of plastic all around it, slowly smothering it, slowly reducing it to the dead lizard lords. This is a plastic earth below the mountain range of hammers. Imagine automated hammers against plastic. You’d have a veritable perpetual motion machine. The hammers will bounce off, fall, and repeat. The plastic will never break, the hammer’s force can never be concentrated enough to do it, the hammer might keep getting weaker and weaker, but it will continue to beat at the plastic. If this is happening in a closed universe, however, no energy will ever escape, and it will continue to happen forever.
Realization. This IS, in fact, a closed universe. If not, then we would never have seen light, because the stars from the infinite deeps of unclosed space would have released enough electromagnetism to cover the infinity with light, this universe never came to exist, it was always there, therefore all the light from all the stars would have reached an infinite distance. Therefore the night sky would have shone from the brilliance of imaginary stars. If dark matter existed and absorbed the light, it would have grown so hot, that it would have started radiating light of its own. But the night sky is dark. A marginal fraction of any star light at all has reached the human race. The light of some stars will shine on the earth when the vestigial memories of the civilization of man has disappeared. On that earth formed on an extinct human race below it, new light from the stars will continue to reach the earth. Even when the sun itself goes supernova, and the earth gets destroyed and sucked into the black hole sun, (yes, rock stars read up quantum too, maybe you should start) there will be light that gets sucked into the black hole from virgin starlight still coming towards the rim of the milky way, from across the universe. The photons from our sun, are regularly sacrificed to at least ten thousand black holes, just in our galaxy, and the number will continue to increase as the sun light travels across the universe. Imagine God’s way of containing two civilizations from meeting each other. Imagine a sphere of black holes, scattered across the universe, in a gigantic sphere with earth at its center. Yes earth, that’s where life is, that’s why. Then, No information, can go through the range of black holes right? So each civilization is besieged by black holes, and there are packets of such civilizations, spread across the universe in a crystal matrix, each shielded from any contact or exchange of information whatsoever with the next. Imagine God being clever enough to make sure this proposition can never be scientifically verified. Imagine the maximum amount of time the universe can exist. To explain using relativity, imagine say, the amount of time taken to watch a bollywood film, tied to a chair, and the whole movie playing at one eighth the speed. You are not allowed to sleep or close your eyes or move for any purpose whatsoever for the entire duration of time. Imagine watching a hundred thousand such films back to back. Now imagine that at the end of doing it, you realize that you are at the first frame of the first film. The universe can exist like much longer than that. But then, it will die. And then no star light will reach the earth. Because stars from beyond a specific distance from earth, will never be able to make their light reach us, the universe will die before they manage to do it. Imagine, someday, somewhere, a child will be born, who will not understand the words “twinkle twinkle little star”. And imagine, this being the boundary where God has placed all the black holes. Science has made some claims that it, itself claims to being unable to verify. Scientists just gave mankind a perfectly scientific reasoning not to be able to find a perfectly scientific reasoning to disprove God, and the only people who fell for it were the scientists themselves. Mankind, rest assured, that scientists will refuse to realize the above proposition. Hell, the universe is closed. But it is closed in a very special way. The simplest way to explain is to think of the snake II game on nokia mobile phones. The snake lives in a restarting universe, one that does not end. That is how the scientists say our universe is… it is the best explanation they have, that the universe is neither closed, nor open, but it restarts. If you spacewalk your way straight to glory, you will come right back to earth. Which means light from the sun would go around the universe and come back to the sun. Which means we would keep seeing sunlight bounce back to us from different points in space, and we’d think “Look at the stars!” Which means a lot of blah which means we’d be living in something similar to a static, constant, infinite universe. Nyah, not possible. The universe is cloaked by black holes, and the matrix is located in the same place, enclosing just one civilization, its just one space time area you know, one bit of existence existing over and over again in different permutations and combinations. The black holes drain energy from one existence and secrete the processed energy as the much mentioned dark matter into another existence. Soon, all the energy from all the existences are drawn into the black holes, and all the existences fill up with dark matter. Entropy ensues. Absolute dissolution of energy. Nothing left but black holes in a dead cosmos. Black holes that have nothing but each other to suck on. Black holes that slowly converge into God, and realize the emptiness in the void around him, and promptly explode into the Big Bang to process it.
You see, God is alone in the nothingness. He has nothing but himself to analyze. He has nothing but himself to dissect and critique. He has no equal, no rival, no nothing. He is alone. He has nothing to compare himself to. He has nothing but himself to find out who he is, and why he exists in the nothingness. God puts himself through tests. He tries to look at breaking himself down into minuscule atomic particles, and making them interact with each other in all possible permutations and combinations. The collected information is processed by black holes, for all light eventually reaches a black hole. Yes, God is watching, but he is only watching himself.
Help. Nothing. Search. Close. Reload. Address. Start-up. Anything. Everything. Full screen. Save. Those are the names of the hammers on the range. And onto the earth, they beat out a story. It is a thrilling story. Neither escapist, nor realist, but still, essentially, fantastic. It is a familiar story. A murder mystery type story.
They had him at the butt. They were even audacious enough to send it for lab testing. Numble-Pumble had carelessly smoked a marijuana cigarette, and had thrown it out of the window. Numble-Puble did this on a regular basis. Every day, a police patrol went by his window. They never spotted him. One day, as they passed him, he hid his cigarette, frightened of the police. One police man, Inspector Mumble-Jumble, spotted him when Numble-Pumble did this action. But he stayed silent, and said nothing, although he had understood exactly what Numble-Pumble was up to. Rumble-Tumble, disappeared into thin air, one day, on his way to Numble-Pumble’s house. The police, had picked up Numble-Pumble’s cigarette butt, and had sent it to the lab for analysis. High THC count. They had his demographic. The butt gave them his saliva, they had his DNA. The police gave a call to a student at the flogged fucked end of getting an advertising degree, and he had told them in detail a complete and detailed character sketch based on the brand of his cigarette. All the details added up to one thing. Numble-Pumble was a serial killer. But they needed a body to prove it. The police used the recently promoted Transpectator Mumble Jumble’s technical knowledge to zero in on incriminating Numble-Pumble. Numble-Pumble was constantly monitored. The food that ended up at his house were filled with nanobots that monitored his insides. Somehow, most of the nanobots didn’t end up inside. One of them ended up sending a constant video stream of plumbing somewhere, and the police was totally baffled. Looked like Numble-Pumble wasn’t a very hungry fellow. They tapped his phone line, read his messages, looked at his gmail inbox, accessed his computer through his internet supplier, and went as far as lacing Numble-Pumble’s hash supplies with truth serums. Transpectator Mumble Jumble went as far as to request closer monitoring using cutting edge robotic insects, but the permission was not granted thinking this to be an easy case.
Pity, that would have gotten them what they wanted. Hidden in the house, Numble-Pumble had another supply of food. He ate from it regularly, which is why the nanobots did not enter inside him. He was safe for a very long time till a nanobot malfunctioned. The nanobot strayed too far down the digestive track, and ended up being excreted. It got flushed, and somewhere in the middle of all the plumbing, from where is sent a constant video stream. Now the police monitored the information from Numble-Pumble constantly, and never found anything for weeks on end. It was like watching a very slow bollywood film, and one that was cubist at that. Amble-Dumble was one police officer who religiously kept looking at the plumbing stream. He was for the whole liberate the nanobots movement. He believed in treating the nanobot as an equal, and he also believed that the nanobot’s fate had taken it to the plumbing. He believed the nanobot to be special, even like a messiah to other nanobots. This nanobot was advising the other nanobots to be different. Amble-Dumble stared and stared at the plumbing stream. He looked at the constant flow of shit going by, and one day he spotted a flash of blood. Amble-Dumble was a Transpectator the next day. Slowly going over the plumbing stream frame by frame gave a lot of information. Hidden in the shit, were human bones and human blood. The secret source of Numble-Pumble’s food was discovered. Transpectator Amble-Dumble was in charge of the team that got the camera-fitted insects to go into Numble-Pumble’s house and find the dead body. These were real insects fitted with tiny cameras. Their instincts drove them to the dead body. You don’t need to train the dog, all you need is a jar of flies. Rumble-Tumble was dead and decomposing in Numble-Pumble’s bed room. This was incriminating evidence.
Numble-Pumble had taken the ultimate step. He had granted the Police credit to every single thing that they could feasibly do. He had thought of all this after Rumble-Tumble died lay dead in his arms. He knew, exactly how to cover up all tracks.
Rumble-Tumble headed over to Numble-Pumble’s house one day. Numble-Pumble had promised to get him some good hash. Bumble-Humble came up to Numble-Pumble. Bumble-Humble was a scared little thing. He said to Numble-Pumble “Hey Rumble-Tumble is a friend of yours?” and Numble-Pumble admitted that he indeed, was. Then said Bumble-Humble “But he has been wicked to me. Cruel even. He has betrayed me and stabbed me in the back and assaulted me with textbooks.” And Numble-Pumble was quick to anger. He turned to Rumble-Tumble and asked him if it was true. But Rumble-Tumble had taken out a thin aluminum ruler from his hand, and was whacking Bumble-Humble with it before Numble-Pumble could finish. Numble-Pumble was scared. He pulled off Rumble-Tumble from Bumble-Humble. And Rumble-Tumble was dead, just like that. Rumble-Tumble’s hands were, for some reason, red even in his death. They were bleeding. Numble-Pumble asked Bumble-Humble to leave him then, and he cleared up the body, and hid it in his own room. He did not know how to dispose it, so he decided to eat it up bit by bit. And he knew how to cover up all tracks. He did not attempt to hide his cigarette when the police went past. He was invisible. The police didn’t see him. For some time that is. Numble-Pumble made a mistake in his calculations. He once entered his own home when the police went past. They saw him entering at that time, and they thought that someone was breaking in and entering. They came to question him, and they found the body. Numble-Pumble confessed that he was, in fact, the murderer.
The next day, Bumble-Humble came to meet Numble-Pumble in jail. They talked. Bumble-Humble consoled Numble-Pumble as best he could, and walked out of the police station weeping. Amble-Dumble was the only person not feminist enough, to think that a man crying was a weird thing indeed. He followed Bumble-Humble with his eyes. Bumble-Humble stopped crying ten steps away from the police station. He went to the local drug dealer, Yumble-Zumble, and shook his hand and purchased some hash. He then looked at the station. His eyes went wide for a second, like round and glassy, and he looked unsure of himself for just a flicker of an instant, and then he laughed, and walked away. The next day, the day when all convicted murderers were exterminated, Amble-Dumble had a talk with Mumble-Jumble, and the two decided to do something. Maybe at the end of it, one of them could end up as the Transpectator. Mumble-Jumble went over Rumble-Tumble’s body closely, and noticed something no one had noticed before. Rumble-Tumble’s hands were red, even in his death. This was because, something had cut through the fork of his veins just above the knuckles on both his hands. Amble-Dumble and Mumble-Jumble realized this too late to save Numble-Pumble. Numble-Pumble died in the electric chair not knowing he was an innocent man.
Amble-Dumble and Mumble-Jumble knew what had happened. They had known who had cut the wrists of Rumble-Tumble. It was Bumble-Humble. They covered him thoroughly, even getting his butt.
The next day, the unfortunate and wrongful killing of Numble-Pumble was not splashed over all the headlines, because Bumble-Humble was not convicted yet. The media knew it, but they could not convey it. They had to resort to allegories. The readers thought the authors of the media were dead, and that was unfortunate. It was not Amble-Dumble and Mumble-Jumble’s headache. As far as the police was concerned, the case was closed. It was taboo to open up a closed case. But Amble-Dumble did it anyway, and Mumble-Jumble used a PowerPoint presentation distributed rapidly as an Orkut virus to alert everyone of the atrocity that Bumble-Humble had committed. The next day, a lot of people were chasing Bumble-Humble down the road with sticks, stones, dinosaur bones and other such weapons surviving after the third world war.
Bumble-Humble was running down the road and wondering how it had come to this. It had all been planned so perfectly, yet it did not go off well. He ran to the police station in search of safety. At the head of the mob was the infamous Fumble-Gumble, a man whose guardian angel was said to be the green fairy herself. He was wielding a club. Bumble-Humble ran along a little faster now. But the mob surrounded him. Engulfed him with blows. He wriggled through the confusion, and reached the police station. Amble-Dumble and Mumble-Jumble were waiting for him. With loud cheering from the crowd, they too, hit Bumble-Humble. Bumble-Humble looked nervous, and scared, and his pupils dilated into large orbs, and he fell to the ground dead. In his hand was a piece of paper that Mumble-Jumble got out before the crowd reached the body. The crowd went into a rabid frenzy of celebration, and Fumble-Gumble ended up clobbering himself with his own club. It was the night of the four bodies.
Amble-Dumble and Mumble-Jumble looked at the piece of paper. It was about some cell that could kill people by making them hear only sounds of the natural frequency of the brain. They began to think what it was about, and they reasoned that it was probably a clue to something. Sure enough, they had a buzzing in their brain. Just before his brain exploded, Mumble-Jumble understood why it was the perfect murder. Five bodies. One mastermind. Everything made sense. Bumble-Humble’s eyes had been giving him away all the time.
Yumble-Zumble was satisfied. He was the perfect serial killer. He was doing it for a simple reason. He was stupid, and did not like people who thought too much.

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