— Where 'tis due.
“Oh, for a muse of fire that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention!
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!”
Act 1, Scene 1, “Henry V”
towards indeterminate targets –
but, do I digress?
Lightningspits fractaltongue, limning and briefly streaking Stygian sky above Pembrokeshire-upon-Essex, near Breugheledin. Hyena wind and demon rain pelt Town as never before (save during antecedent apocryphal apocalypse). Formerly sanguine and parallel streets, distraught with melee, cloister together, intersect, seek comfort in numbers. Shall afore- and above- mentioned streets then wear ‘penitential garb of’ suit for purporting such inconvenience towards innocent readers? Narrator knows not now… Degrees of char (and ensuing characters) shall decide. Malcolm preferred to make tea inside its pot, before shrill whistle sibilantly proclaimed availability of said brew, lying in steadfast recumbency within said vessel. “The Crush steams atop the platform, just as Crisis lurks near an immature Holy” thought he, pouring a cup in the fashion of all natives of Dortmundshire. Drobny himself, Cranstonton-bred, trode downstairs holding razor and lotthering-can, and crosses himself thrice intoning: “Yoknapatawpha! Stern to barracks! Introibo ad altare Dei!” Malcolm watched in silence, familiar with Drobny’s arcane penchant for conflating Faulkner with Joyce. Feigning grace, he retorted: “Where is my tetrakyt?” Malcolm, too (fond of quoting Beckett), well knew the word to be ‘tetraktys’. Instantly, Drobny replied “Eleemosynary, my dear Wattson. Your tetraktys is missing. The game is indeed apaw.” Despite occasional quarrels, Drobny and Malcolm enjoyed this joke, especially during violent storm wherein Drobny might have opportunity to urge Malcolm to re-enact Ben Franklin’s experiment of great historicity – flying key and “tetrakyte” into a bolt of lightning. “If the game’s ‘afoot’, Drobny, then it must be a dactyl.” “Iamb, trochee…” Drobny enumerated “Anapest!” Malcolm interrupted. “Mrkgnaiow!” said Cat in reply, also fond of Joyce. Lying at Provident intersections of Cartesian XY-/ XZ-/ and YZ- planes conjoined to form alleged, imagined, hypothetical, subjunctive (or supervenient) ‘corner’ of Room, Cat lay curled-in-ball waving Tail lazily. “I don’t mean you, Cat” moderated Malcolm, aspiring to placate Tessercat. Indeed, said cat’s name was “Cat”, a consequence of student days at Camford University and remembrance of first readings of “Cratylus” (Plato’s paraphrastic Socratic dialog on names, based on work of namesake philosopher who ultimately renounced both names and language, communicating only by gesture of finger). “You’d make a pithy Thackeray, wouldn’t you Malcolm?” said Drobny. “I suppose so” Malcolm said, with some degree (Cantorian infinity less than other infinities) of poignance. “Beans for dinner, is it?” “Aye” said Malcolm, pointing towards simmering pot adjoint said previously gratuitously exploited and abandoned tea-kettle. Beans it was. Beans, indeed! Moral ? (A cynic cheats inside a wrath.) Malcolm had a girlfriend who lived downstairs. Her name was Kaylee Hamilton. Kaylee was strictly orthogonal, by all reckoning, and offered Malcolm the favor of caring for Tessercat, sometimes. Never one to trust appearances, Malcolm hired detectives to watch her conduct during fictive trips he had not taken, all to better test her honesty. His own senses of irony and honesty were perhaps lacking, one might conclude, although Malcolm himself had no inkling of this. Malcolm well knew the danger of allowing an arbitrary observer to watch Tessercat. Schrodinger’s wave equations and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principles had taught him the possibility of Cat being dead, upon return… Ruminations on the ‘Psi function’ ( Ψ), ‘the Schrodinger operator’, and ‘Markov chains’ kept Malcolm from being fully comfortable whilst Kaylee carefully ‘not-watched’ his Tessercat, so as to least disturb the most proximal orbit of Tessercat’s furthest electron. Still, all that Malcolm asked of Kaylee, as caretaker, was that she strive to keep the probability of Tessercat’s existence as close to “1” as possible (scaling precipitously from 0 to 1). Shrewd Schrodinger’s short shrift shared shyness with Kaylee, Tessercat, and Malcolm. Drobny could only smile at the obviety of it all. Tessercat, moved more by pity than sympathy about the emotional impact of its absence on Malcolm, simply spread 5-dimensional wings on such occasions, and flew (discontinuously, relative to 4-D spacetime) to other points in the plenum – x,y,z,t’ for instance. Instantaneously discontinuous in spacetime, Tessercat was never away long enough to be noticed (being absent), but always far enough away from harm. Drobny thought Kaylee to be “a bland, blind, blonde”. Kaylee thought Drobny to be “a rabid river rabbit, riveted to rudiments”. Base as Kaylee thought Drobny to be, she still had deep admiration for Malcolm, who had once removed a spider from her room. Spiders being nearly extinct, in this year (Anno Domini), Malcolm had tried to preserve its existence for ‘posterity’s sake’… However, posterity had other plans, and Malcolm’s effort to save said spider was met by furious wrath of the Heavens (i.e. lightning-bolt [proximal lightning-bolt, many microns away from said spider]) which ignominously vaporized Arachnid without warning, pomp, or circumstance. Returning to said scene with pocket electron microscope, Malcolm observed that the bolt of electricity from the heavens had actually missed the target… not enough to save the life of said arachnid, but definitely not a bull’s-eye strike. “God missed!” he shouted.