The Beginnings Of A Revolution – II
If you wish to read the previous part of this story. Here it is.
At the Doctor’s:
” Hello. …. Nice design sir. ….Actually, I am a great fan of fractal art. ……I have got a big collection of …”, said the doc., before his welcome greetings were abruptly disrupted by Domar, who thought it best to nip the doc’s welcome greetings in the bud, than to repent after being tortured for about 13 minutes by the Doc’s speech on fractal art.
The disruption by Domar went something like this, ” Er.., er…, er……., DOCTOR“, starting as a murmur and ending in a scream. The true picture can be understood only if one combines the dialogues of the doc and Domar. ( Directions for combination: put in the words of Domar, ex: ‘Er’, in the first ….. appearing in the doc’s speech, then ‘er’ in the …. before ‘Actually’ in the doc’s speech and etc. ). Having the doc’s attention now, Domar brought his volume down to a more respectable level. He said, ” Er.., Doctor, actually, it is not an art form on my friend’s shirt, it is crow shit”.
Then, there was no speech from either party for the next two minutes. To a naive mind, this would defenitely have seemed very strange considering the eagerness with which each party wanted to exercise their vocal chords in the recent past. A N.M observing this situation would have called it – ‘the lull before the storm’. But no. The Doc didn’t speak because he couldn’t. The Doc couldn’t because, his brain wouldn’t let him. His brain wouldn’t let him because, it couldn’t. Well, to cut a long story short, his brain was too busy going through a wide range of feelings, it just didn’t have the processing power to let him speak. Even if it had that extra processing power to let him speak he would have only moved his mouth without making a sound ( which in the strict sense is not called speaking anyway ), which he was infact doing presently, because, his brain didn’t have the processing power to think of what to speak. Such was his condition. Domar didn’t speak because he was too embarrassed to do so. And He was in a state of near coma.
For completeness’ sake, the Doc’s range of feelings are being listed here.
Sympathy, Hatred, Rage, Fear, and a hundred other feelings which cannot be described by a single word, lets just call them Others.
Below is a description of his feelings as a function of time.
Then finally, the Doc managed to speak: “Crows shit at a shittery”. He then spoke for the first time at the Doc’s ( his teeth clattering all the while ): “No sir. This really is crow shit. You can test it if you want”.
The Doc, after about 100 unsuccessful attempts to convince the visitors that crows shit at a shittery, that if what He described was true then it was against the laws of the nature, and so on, finally agreed to take He’s shirt and subject it to some lab tests. This, the Doc did, not because he was convinced that it was crow shit, not out of sympathy, but out of concern for his own well being, for what if whatever He said was indeed true? Is it safe to be in the same room as someone who has just been shit on by a crow? Is it safe to breathe the same air that He was breathing? Being a good doctor, the Doc decided that it was in the larger interests of humanity to test the stuff and more importantly, to get rid of He and his friend immediately from his own vicinity.