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Page 4

Chapter 4

  Yet another brave evening, which is presenting another brilliant opportunity for Bob to make his miracle leap outside the box in his wonder bunny suit.

  Just a second, why are you hopping along the corridors, Bob?

  You don't have to act like a rabbit just because you are in a rabbit suit.

  The suit is just for passing through the windows, it's not to disguise yourself as an actual rabbit.

  It's not like you're going to bump into a lost bunny alien that happens to be wandering around and actually make him believe he is facing another fellow of his species (five times bigger and with a human face stuck between the ears).

  But anyway, since Bob is trying so hard to keep up appearances, we'll just jumpitty jump along behind his tail. And while last time he seemed to be wandering around with no aim, now it looks like he has a purpose. Yep, he definitely has a purpose! And that purpose grows clear as he goes straight to Mentoid Joe's Box (tam tam taaaaa).

  "Pssst" goes the rabbit outside the window.

  "PSSST!" more persistently and annoyingly.

  "PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTT" until there is no breath left.

  But then the rabbit realizes no “psst” can be heard from outside the soundproof glass. So he pokes his rabbit head inside the box.

  "Pssst!"

  Without turning his head, Joe throws a remark (that is intended to be condescending), "I don't have time for your pssst, you remarkably stupid creature. Please run along, I have five projects to finish and two more to expand."

  "What projects?"

  Now the rabbit is all inside looking around curious for these projects (curiosity is definitely a sign of intelligence), as if the said projects are lying around the floor like unclaimed socks.

  "The unification of post-quantum fields, the reformulation of pre-existential space spectrum anomalies, the . . . oh my! A HUMAN!"

  Mentoid Joe barely stops his laughter and turns back to his boards.

  "Why am I even bothering to tell you these things? I have more chances of explaining to galactic chickens the cycle of stars than to make you understand the subtleties of time travel."

  "Oooh! Travel! I like travel! Do you like to travel?"

  "Poor, poor bi-lobe-brain creature. What sort of rhetorical question is that? Judging by your rabbit suit, you are going to ask me to help you escape."

  "Oooooh. You are smart! I don't think I have ever met a creature as smart as you."

  Apparently, the little ass-kissing remark makes Mentoid Joe turn around again, with captivated attention and a warm tingling in his eyes that seem to say "Do you really mean it?"

  And Bob, sly as a fox (even if he is dressed as a rabbit), catches that little tingling and replies with a very cunning eye tingling of his own, "Of course I mean it. I'm too dumb to be lying to you . . . of all species."

  "You know, the only other person who told me I'm smart was my mother . . . All the doctors declared me mentally retarded, which I am, don't get me wrong. The mentoid species is a wonderful, mentally gifted species, but when it comes to treating their less fortunate members, they dismiss them like bi-lobe-brain creatures.

  "You mean, you are mentally retarded?"

  "Try to catch up, mister limited frontal cortex mass. I am a mental retard compared to other mentoids. But compared to you I am a million years ahead.”

  "A million?"

  "Yes. You see, every little thing on us mentoids has evolved toward higher intellectual purpose. Take our cranium, for example, it is not made of restrictive, rigid bones like yours. It is an elastic membrane, allowing my brain to expand and match ANY thinking challenge brought forward."

  "And also to pop . . ."

  "Oh, little creature, it will never pop since there is nothing in this universe complex enough to put my brain to such stress."

  Turns back to his boards: "You are so funny sometimes (petting the rabbit Bob on his head), but what can you expect from only a 20-million-neuron density per cubic centimeter?"

  "Sooo, did they lock you up here for being a retard? Is this like the 'special needs' institution for mentoids?"

  "No, no, mammal brain. I have agreed to come here myself. Ever since I was in the nursery school I became aware of the dreadful fact that I will spend my entire childhood being bullied by all the other mentoid kids. 'Oh look! My brain has more circumvolutions then yours! Oh look! I can solve more equations with multiple transcendent solutions then you!' Just imagine the traumatizing effects this can have on a mentoid kid! How can I grow my self-esteem when everyone around me seems to have their first variant theory ready by the time they have their first tooth?"

  Bob is trying to digest this new piece of information after succeeding in understanding the "I am a mental retard" part.

  Of course, Joe is a retard . . . but compared to other mentoids!

  Try to catch up, Bob, try to catch up.

  "And after I finished my nursery cycle I understood what my life will look like when I reach kindergarten. Just imagine witnessing every single day your dreadful stupidity. Being less capable of modelling n’th dimension systems, being always last when comparing brain circumference . . . I mean, what dating chances do I have later in life with a brain size this small? Every mentoid knows that girls love big brain circumferences. It seems size does matter and all the males of any species face the same familiar situation . . . no matter in what corner of the universe they live or how many millions of years they are ahead . . . or behind (looks at Bob)."

  The fat bunny with a human face nods in full agreement.

  "But as you already know, behind every under-developed intellect there is a soul struggling for acceptance and for freedom of self-expression. However, the future that I had in store was not a pretty one.

  "In mentoid society a toddler with a severe mental deficiency like myself would never find his place. I will be kept away from advanced theoretical systems for fear I might injure myself, I will be spoon fed mathematical models that were dumbed down for my sake, I will never have a chance of getting a post-physical system theory accomplished. And the worst part? Being bullied by the mentoids geekier than me and every single kid laughing at my theories like they are the human quantum theories."

  "I understand you, Joe. Kids were mean to me when I was little."

  "Somehow I find that very hard to believe, but given your exceptionally limited cerebral mass, I am forced to agree with you."

  "And you know what I wanted to do, Joe? I wanted to run away . . ."

  But it seems that this last sentence makes Joe raise a single eyebrow.

  "Oh Bob, how simple minded you are. You really think you can pull me into your little plot of escaping this place?"

  "Me? Oh, no, not me. Far from it!"

  And Bob stops in front of one of the boards full of tiny little scribbles. With the utmost wonder in his eyes.

  As you have all figured out (and by you I mean everyone except Mentoid Joe), Bob doesn’t care at all and is not interested in the doodles and the scribbles, but he sure noticed Mentoid Joe is!

  "Did you make all these by yourself?"

  Mentoid Joe stops pacing all of a sudden. And Bob sees it and smells the opportunity!

  "What is it? It looks fascinating!"

  "You think?" the naïve Joe says, falling into the trap.

  "Yes. I have always liked complex stuff, but this looks quite amazing."

  "Oh, you’re just saying that! You have no clue what it is."

  "No, no. I see you put a lot of effort into it and I bet it took you an awful lot of time. I am genuinely interested. Just let me know the basics. Throw me the generals, and maybe I can understand."

  "As a stupid mentoid, I was always fascinated by the extent of other species' stupidity. I admit, it made me feel better about myself. I even thought of making a dissertation for my 23rd PhD, but I had too many things filling my time. Anyway, I digress."

  And then, overcome with joy, he says, "Ok, ok, I will tell you but only because it
tickles my ego when I see humans bathing in their complete idiocy."

  Pause, because Joe looks at Bob with a look, saying, "I just called you a complete idiot and I am waiting for your reaction.”

  But Bob is all ears (and no clue).

  So Joe has to give up and continue

  "Do you know how everyone interested in science comes and says: 'The mysteries of the universe are hidden from us! We have to discover the mysteries! Search deep and long for these mysteries! Maybe they will reveal themselves!'

  "How come they never wonder if these are really mysteries?

  "Take for example the case of discovering gravity: in the seventeen century some guy of yours called Newton discovers gravity. And he discovers it as if until then there was no gravity at all. As if this wasn't the mother of all the obvious things! As if you didn’t have it all around you! Oh nooo, gravity needed to be discovered! For thousands of years, the humans prized their intellect, from making symbols on cave walls and inventing the wheel to building great temples and civilizations . . . and then they needed an apple to fall on their head to become aware of gravity!

  "Oh look! Gravity was hidden under a rock for ages and it took centuries and centuries for humanity to search and here comes mister Newton and pulls it out: 'Aha! I got you now, Gravity! From this day forward, the whole world will know your name! And also your effects!'

  "And all I could think of is: 'That gravity was there for BILLIONS of years, before your monkey ass species became self-aware! You lived with gravity by your side when you went to sleep, you ate with gravity, you picked your nose in gravity, you peed with gravity . . . every single second of your life was filled with gravity.'

  "This thing is out there all along, staring at you right in the eyes and you call it 'hidden?! How was it hidden? How was it a mystery?

  "You can't use the term 'discovery' when there is no mystery to discover! The 'thing' that you 'discovered' was there all along! It's not like anyone could hide it.

  "'Breaking news! The government hides the existence of gravity!' or 'Company X kept the existence of photons an enigma for years.'

  "How can you hide gravity?

  "How can you hide a scientific fact?

  "How can you hide something that is and by non-existing will overthrow any aspect of the current observable universe?

  "You can't hide atoms, you can't hide electromagnetism or friction or surface tension! You can't make a secret out of reality, because reality is the stuff that is.

  "So it's not 'the world is full of "mysteries' but in fact it's 'We are too stupid to see.' There are no 'hidden' truths, just we, the species that is too blind. The species that can lie to itself about it.

  "Every single species in the universe that developed something similar to science NEVER 'discovered' anything and in the future we will never actually 'discover' anything.

  "You just become aware of Stuff as you grow out of your stupidity. And that Stuff is there laughing in your faces since you started crawling out of the mud from the pre-Cambrian era.

  "'Hey look, electrons! Me, sentient species, great discoverer!'

  "No, idiot, it's 'Hey look, electrons! How was I so, so, soooo stupid for the last several millennia NOT to see them? How was I able to explain simple stuff like objects bumping one into other until now?'

  "And maybe, maybe, after the species understands there are no 'discoveries,' they will continue walking on this line of thought: 'I wonder what other stuff is staring me in the face while I pick my nose, wondering about the wonders of the universe?'"

  Now Bob listens like a quiet little child that knows if he will ask anything he will just get another hour of gibberish talk. So he nods and whenever Mentoid Joe changes tone he says “Mhm” with a very deep and thoughtful face.

  But all he can think is "What is it with aliens and their monologues? Everywhere I go, they all seem so eager to unload the half hour talk-talk-talk, all by themselves. As if I understand a word of what they are saying. I guess they are all so lonely in these cages and the only way to have a conversation is with themselves. Or me."

  Mentoid Joe continues.

  "So the problem sits with us. Even if we are part of the universe, even if we are in the middle of its blinding obviousness, we need the scientific process to 'discover' something that was here all along. But the stuff that is does not need a process to validate its existence. It is us who need the process to make reality accessible to our sentience. That is why I have embarked on the journey of creating a system that eliminates the 'discoveries' and enables direct access to 'reality.'"

  Long pause from Joe, letting the idea sink deep into Bob's head.

  And since Bob is a mountain of intuition, he feels he needs to say something smart.

  "Whoaaa.”

  "Whoaaa indeed! However, I don’t know why but it seems I can’t finish this endeavor. It seems like I am starting it over again and again."

  "If you can think of everything you told me, escaping this place, it's just a kid's play for you. You can figure out all the doors and codes and stuff. Not like me. You said it yourself, I'm stupider than a hamster. Honestly, even a hamster can figure out the exit."

  "Bob, there is nothing to figure out; everything is in plain sight. Obvious blinding plain sight.”

  "Yes, but does that mean you will help me escape?"

  Joe wants to say something but then takes a long look at Bob and realizes that if he continues his eloquent dissertation about the humans' inability to see past their own skull, Bob will have the same blank stare and make the same stupid remark.

  So Joe continues elegantly:

  "In the end, the human species is one of the most awesome species in the universe . . . gifted with a great future and showing amazing promise. And as for your escaping request . . . then I will be glad to show you how to open a door."

  "Yayyy! We will be like two brothers! Two dumbest creatures of their own race escaping together."

  In Aisle 3, box C (Would you look at that! It seems that the bunny aliens also have numerals and letters. How convenient!), a crazy rabbit is bouncing drunk-happy and hugging like mad the mentoid who loathes every paw that is violating his private space.