Mountains Last Flower Final Blurb Wit Him A

8/6/2019 Mountains Last Flower Final Blurb Wit Him A

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The Mountains Last Flower

By Victoria Stokastika June-September 2009

Tagline:The mountains coming down! The mountains coming down!!! Arent you going to get off?!

Summary for the Back of the Book (for Agents and Publishers):The Mountains Last Floweris a surrealistic, precautionary

tale exploring the personal and universal denials of Heisen the Scientist, a rather obsessive and reclusive botanist. He refuses

to listen to the warning cries of Gonzo the panicky Child, who is frantically urging him to descend from the unstable,

rumbling mountain. Now required to deal with major sacrifice, the Scientist must consider leaving his once secure home of a

mountainside cabinshack and discontinuing his attendance to the endangered, neon-orange-petalledNeopentaspectavolus granelli,

which has served as a profound source of fulfillment in his later years. Through the interplay of antagonistic dialogues,

Heisens war of ideologies with Gonzo ultimately reveals that he is conducting warfare within himself, as his own suppressed,youthful instincts are conflicting with the implanted, conventional rationalities of adulthood. Yet is Heisen able to come to

his senses in due time such as to escape the erupting heartbeat linked with dragons shedding of the mountains skin?

Biographical Blurb: Victoria Minnich, otherwise known as Stokastika (a seeker of order from chaos), is a Ph.D. student in

Environmental Media / Environmental Science and Management at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Upon asking

the question, What is the definition of science when humans are a part ofthe experiment? Victoria packed up her bags filled

with knowledge and tools in the Life/Earth Sciences and Arts in order to venture down the rabbit hole of addressing complex

human-environmental problems through multi-media storytelling, ranging from illustrated narrative fiction to film-making.

Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.Sir Francis Bacon

Devotions

The Mountains Last Flowerwas written in memory of my grandfather, John Ray Minnich. The creative wheels of this story

began churning upon my first encounter with Duke and Dog in June of 2009 (then speeding up upon the incident of the 6.9

earthquake of Baja California in August of 2009). Thanks to Barry Spacks for challenging and encouraging me to write apoets

story, not a straw mans plight and so this short tale has transformed into a novella, and it took me three months, not three

weeks to write! Big hugs to Jeri Lyn and Steve for letting a troubled mind hibernate among the fruit trees and redwoods of

Sebastopol, California. Much gratefulness to all of my blood-and-mind family for supportingorputting up withme through

such an arduous journey of melding science and art.September 2009


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Part 1

There was this old man by the name of Heisen who lived in a rather small, self-built cabinshack on a shrub-coated mountain,

amidst a vast expanse of sparsely populated terrain, aways-away from any human-infested metropoliscapes. The cabinshack

leaned against the somewhat steep, west-and-ocean-facing slope of the mountain, which was also bordered by a meagerly-

fertile valley to the east, a village fairly near the base to the south, and a scanty continuation of the rugged range to the north.

Despite his past-ripening age, Heisen maintained a lean and surprisingly agile form, giving him the capacity to construct this


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marginally functional, scraggly-shaped cabinshack, sufficient enough to shut out any high winds and mild rains. The old mans

untamed curly-grey-brown-hair-coupled-gruff-beard, horizontally-elongated, thick-lensed glasses, and gazelle-like defensive

posture summed into an epitomized portrayal of a reclusive scholar of seemingly great intelligenceor bona fide geeky-ness in

the leastas if he were a scientist of sorts.

And this man did in fact deem himself as a scientist. Heisen, the Scientist.

Before he trekked across swaths of vacant lands and established himself on this mountain three years ago, Heisen labored for

an incalculable number of yearsperhaps 40?as an odd Professor of Botany in the prestigious, urban-bathed URKLA

University. The man enrolled in this institution as an unfiltered, ever-so-curious, feisty boy with an exceptionally active mind,

who obsessed with exploring the Unbounded Outdoors lacing the fringes of the city.

Yet over time, Heisens unbounded, multidirectional passions had simply become more and more narrowly channeled and

folded and crumpled and scrunched by the myriad of academic and social pressures to a point in which he evolved anextremely specialized, highly resolved adoration for rare and endangered plants, while the rest of his own primary vitalities,

diversely branching mind, and intriguing world around him had dwindled into some amorphous, fuzzy mesh of static

backdrop that mostly bypassed his conscious attention.

The Scientist had come to know and intensely admire these once mysterious plants, such that he perceived them as distinctive,

sprightly, ever-so-changing charactersalmost human-like, with personalities, even morethan human-likefor throughout his

career, he was asking these rare plants all kinds of questions about their color and size and shape and function (internally and

externally, from parts to whole and whole to parts), and why they had come to look and operate the way how they did and

why not any other way, and where they lived and why was this place-of-a-physical-and-living-matrix their ideal or marginally

habitable home, and how they related to their neighbors (their allies and enemies and apathetic bystanders), and how were theyborn, how did they grow, how did they mate, and who were their family members and very distant ancestors

Yet once again and furthermore, the stresses of rigid university conventions tapered the vibrant internal collage of Heisens

adorable floral obsession into merely, and predominantlyoneexpressive outlet oftechnical papers, riddled with academi-Creole

megawords, numbers upon numbers, mounds of data sets, and complex computer computations of nearly incomprehensible

mathematical equations, which were nearly incomprehensible to himself (yet he was too proud to admit it).


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And slowly, over the period of a decade, to the obliviousness of Heisen himself, the demands of the university stripped him

from his childhood pleasures of immersion in the Unbounded Outdoors, as he had become more and more bounded to

exploring the musty-smelling abyss of pre-existing, library-housed scholarly literature, tediously operating highly complicated,

laboratory-confined machines (while several researchers sent him botanical specimens for analysis through classified mail), and

telling stories almost repetitiously of rare and endangered plants to densely packed classrooms of mildly humored students.

And so a boys dream of endlessly frolicking about the remains of Whatever Wildlands had steadily and unawaringly been

devoured and reshaped into the University Mold. But this feisty boy, now Heisen the Scientist, had become very good in his

haphazardly-fallen-into profession, and was highly regarded as an acclaimed expert in his field, exclusive to the scholarly

community, for that was the only community he truly came to know.

Other than his fixation with rare and endangered plants, the rest of Heisens personal family and hobby life remained largely

unknown to his collaborators and associates. And if there were any attempts of addressing such personal matters amidst more

formal discussions, the scholar plainly shied away from group conversations or abruptly diverted or ended one-on-one

exchanges with Can we stay on topic here? or I am anticipating my next meeting, so if you could please excuse me, whichwere so brusque that such dialogue shifts seemed to reach a threshold of borderline social awkwardness. Some concerned

departmental colleagues had observed occasional intervals of silent heaviness and spells of exceptional seclusion about Heisen,

as they had come to jokingly theorize during gossip-mill-happy-hours that this mans highly edited portrayal of his life simply

represented that he was even unknown to himself.

The mind of the Scientist was ultimately perceived to consist of somewhat labyrinthal folds of varying degrees of thickness,

binding and branching interconnectivity, permeability or porosity, and overall well-sortedness in space and time, with most

matters being highly impermeable to the folds, except for the selective-to-most-unrestrained percolation of mental fluids

associated with his inner-dendritic network of plants. And perhaps his head truly paralleled a sedimentary outcrop, punctuated

by the pervasive absence of much-needed, associative lithical material for secure structure, and dominated by unconformities,or major gaps in the tape-recording of his lifetime, where the sole emerging line of strata that composed of a consistent

lagersttten was that of rare and endangered plants, while the rest of the beds and laminations contained diffuse, fragmented,

fossils from the rest of his life granted if fossil bones were even present, let alone any remnants of memoiric casts or molds.

URKLA was once sarcastically nicknamed University of Myopia by a renowned journalist, and some collaborators closest to

Heisen chewed him out behind his back, pointing fingers and labeling him as the poster child for the pun.

And finally, after four decades of extensive, ups-n-downs distractions from his original free-romping train-of-thought, the

Scientist was finally granted his retirement and relieved of routine duties. Though in some respects, the consequence of forty

years of severe constriction of juvenile livelihood was potentially the permanent encrustation of Heisen, to a condition of

coarsened rigidity. With a bland burst of suppressed energy, the scholar essentially wriggled out of some stagnant cocoon, and

glumly blossomed into some novel insect that could be born again as oldwith battered, slightly decomposed wings, and

residual stains of faded orange on his antennae and abdomen. This creature of a Scientist seemed more than ready to abandon

any reminders of his past habitats of University and Metropolis, and was eager to return to the engrossing chatter of the

Uncharted Outdoors.


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Heisen, now retired, residing in a cabinshack on a ways-away mountain, apparently held two remaining permeable and highly

melding folds of adoration in his life that kept his mind from transforming to complete, unevolving stone. These folds were of

(1) the non-rigorous observations of sunrises and sunsets, especially those clipped by fog (the only free and natural

commodity left on planet Earth, according to the scholar), and (2) the elaborate scrutiny and tending to the great

Neopentaspectavolus granelli, a very rare, and government-classified endangered flowering plant with neon-orange-colored

petals, in which the end of each petal protruded two ornate, and sometimes curly projections that resembled strands of silk. A

sky-blue ball of pistils and stamens bulged out from the converging center-point of the petals, and a neon-green stem

connected the radiant blossom to the lower extremities, which usually displayed four prominent, neon-green leaves, and a

rosette-of-a-base that bore resemblance to a poofy skirt. These mildly fragrant, anomalous plants resided in three small

splotches of communities on the ocean-facing slope of the mountain, just a very short walk from the doorsteps of the

Scientists cabinshack.

A little over three years ago, around the time of his retirement, Heisen received a letter from a distant collaborator pertaining

to the news of the potential existence of a new, unidentified-and-unclassified, neon-orange-petalled plant in the far, far,fareast

of the stretch of terrain aways-aways-away from the urbanscapes enveloping URKLA University. Yet this story was still

uncertain, being carelessly tossed around by the community of botanical fanatics, and yet it tickled the Scientist so fancy that

he declared to the Biology Department upon his farewell gathering that this case was deserving of an expedition.

After dozens of years of system-imposed linearity of life, the newly-spirited Heisen decided to sell his tiny city house and most

of his trinket belongings, sauf a small truck suitable for rough road conditions, and a few vital supplies such as highly-used

clothes and an extensive tool kit (including a few relatively compact gadgets proper enough for scientific data collection). He

soon lost all sight and remembrance of human-swarmed habitats along a very dusty, bumpy dirt road bordered by speckles of

lower-elevation valley shrubs. The scholar finally embarked upon a spontaneous quest into the neighboring boonies to find

this outrageously-described neon-orange-petalled plant, and to metamorphose this swirling academic myth into a concrete

reality, once and for all.


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And it was of simultaneous happenstance in which the Scientist turned on to the right road, which led to his stumbling

upon an isolated, near-coastal village of people who mostly derived their livelihood from caretaking adjacent valley ranches. A

few of the village elders, whose red-botched, dark wrinkled skin all over their forms made them appear to be in their sixties,

knew of the once nameless orange-petalled plants on the ocean-facing slope of the unpopulated mountain closest to their

community. As the elders eagerly welcomed Heisen to the region, for they had never met a scientist before, they mentioned

that two Government Agents traveled through their parish about a month ago, who informed them that these plants, which

were to be called Neo-penta-specta-vol-us gran-ell-i (they showed him copies of the official government papers, as he had to

teach them how to properly pronounce the genus and species) might eventually be enlisted as endangered. The Agentsprovided the amiable, bulgy-eyed Village Head with a stipend that was to be offered to a local resident who was willing to tend

the plants while the Agents took samples to run complex tests back in their cities. The very keen and animated Heisen artlessly

bombarded the elders with questions, such as How long will it take for the tests to run? and Doyouknow if they are rare,

and is this the onlymountain whereNeopentaspectavolusis found? and Was this plant previously abundant and now rare? and

Was this natural rarity or human-disturbance induced, potentially byyouractivities? but they all lifted their hands and

shrugged their shoulders in unknowing uncertainty. And then, the scholar popped out the question, Is there anyone

observing and caring for the plants in the mountain right now?

At that point in time, no one in the village dared to consider tending the plants, let alone set foot on thatmountain, due to the

presence of a supposed dragon, as to which Heisen scoffed and disregarded as voodoo talk (which apparently was a similarresponse of the government agents). He quickly formed a mental fold of near impermeability whenever the locals discussed

and pleaded with him to worry of the dragon.

With great stubbornness, the Scientist still hiked up the mountain, and to his astonishment, two-thirds up the ocean-front

incline, he finally discovered and developed a profound infatuation (if infatuation can indeed beprofound!) with the patches of

neon-greenNeopentaspectavolus, which flickered more vividly than those neon-colored signs clinging to the windows at 24-7 cityquikstop markets. The plants were also quite intriguing in morphology even though they were not in bloom upon Heisens

first encounter. A fondness for the spectacular, mesmerizing views of the turbulent ocean, its lofty fog layers, coastal mesas,

and green-brown-smudged valleys below grew within the old man soon after. Upon return to the community of ranch-hands

from his meticulous mountain scouting, the scholar insisted to the Village Head that he was overqualified and deserving to be

the curator of Neopenta (a shortened, pet peeve name that had organically evolved from the Scientists slip of tongue). And

after a series of arguments and deliberations among the aggravated and marginalized old-timers, the mediating Village Head,

and the anxious Heisen, an informal agreement was forged: to his discretion, Heisen the Scientist assumed the role of tending


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Neopentaspectavolus granelliin exchange for the government-provided stipend, on the condition that the villagers could not be

held responsible for any disastrous occurrences of the dragon in the mountain.

Heisen, the now-proclaimed Sovereign of Botanical Fetish, cultivated a bizarre, yet working relationship with the village

residents. The ranch-hands were curious, yet scantily charmed by his peculiarly dichotomous persona of predominant

introversion, punctured by a rather large island of obsessive extroversion, concerning all matters of rare plants. The Scientist

attempted to be very kind and occasionally act as an attentive listener, especially with the impatient old-timers. But when it

came to the subject of rare and endangered plants, the scholar began to beat his chest and dance around a figurative fire withflowery floral stories revised from his past classroom lectures, as if he were an alpha male ape, demonstrating that he knew

more than anyone else around him. Most of the senior villagers were concurrently amused and annoyed that this man, in his

manners of subtle arrogance, could speak Greek and Chinese phrases intermingled with his English.

And yet again, when it came to several topics of his personal past, Heisen resumed to beat around the bush with his gauche

dialogue diversions. Within a few days of his arrival to the remote community, the elders had charted the boundaries of the

newcomers Knowns and Unknownsor WorthSpeakables and NonWorthSpeakablesand they swiftly determined the

Scientists mind as a sizable pan of impenetrable clay with a trivial streak of sand on the side; the stagnant, murky water of the

pool above could only percolate through the sand, and that is where one overgrown, yet somewhat striking bog plant could

possibly subsist.

Though the scholar continued to discount the dragon stories of the concerned, yet irritated senior villagerswho had lived

in this remote region as long as the old man had lived in the universityHeisen unintentionally offset such lurking

frustrations by donating his off-road truck to the community. In addition, the Scientist rounded up and removed an

assortment of unwanted wood scraps and fragments of broken appliances from the villagers compact yards and back patios,

proposing to use these materials for a housing structure in the mountain.

After a months time of self-assembling the cabinshack, Heisen and the village members evolved a loose routine in which the

old man ventured down the mountain once every three or four weeks to retrieve a small stipend along with his mail, as well as

restock in fundamental supplies, especially in canned goods. He acquired a heightened level of patience to report to the localsthe state of the Neopenta patches while filling out the government data forms (the plant was defined as a unique species, and

had finally been declared endangered a half-a-year after the Scientist had occupied the mountain). And yet the scholar held

very little tolerance for listening to the village ranch-hand chitchat, especially when they muttered about the dragon issue.

Heisen found himself more than eager to depart to his meagerly cozy cabinshack with a substantial heap of provisions,

transported with the support of his sturdy, arching back and trailing, rustic pullcart.

This habitual custom solidified a stressfully synchronized rapport between the solitary Scientist and the village people. Over

time, the ranch-hands crafted an enduring notion of hesitant fascination of Heisen, pierced by ample irritable prickliness. Yet

overall, they did not seem to mind the presence of this obstinate old man, as long as he largely left them to their space in the

valley (chiefly minimizing the chances of receiving a rare plant harangue), and they went out of their way to leave the scholar

to his space up in the mountain.

And perhaps Heisen was happy spending the majority of his days fully absorbed, critically observing, mentally manicuring

the immediate babble of his constructed pastoral universe, including the rhythmic dips, dives, and resurfacing of the cloud-

wrapped sun, and most importantly, the dawdling dances of Neopenta in the ethereal, mist-driven breeze, in which the old

man exercised a policing so extreme that he didnt even allow the birdsto meddle with hisneon-green plants.


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Part 2

Heisen the Scientist appeared to be in exceptionally high spirits these early spring days of late. He was more chipper than ever,

probably because the two year biological alarm clock rang since the last unearthly, spectacularbloom of Neopenta (hence the

nameNeopentaspectavolus granelli!). The old mans first-time witness of such a near-blinding, color-warped specter of biological

fireworks had left him in a stupor, lasting weeks after three full days of aligning blossoms! And the floral display was so intense

that even the villagers could detect the disfigured, neon-orange button splotches on the mountain from great distances!

The fireworks persisted at a landscape scale two summers after the spring flowering, in which an uncommon storm surging

through the faraway region generated high frequencies of lightning strikes. One bolt ultimately ignited a spot fire at the base of

the mountain slope facing the enraged ocean. The vegetation burned slowly, yet the fire perimeters did not expand far, as the

dense fog dampened the canopy, rendering most of the plants close to inflammable. From the safety of his cabinshack door,

the Scientist occasionally monitored the sluggish, creeping, then self-extinguished flames with weak interest and apprehension.

In aftermath, the lightning strike scarred the mountain with a small, shrub-denuded area, exposing charred soils, which in turn

received a fair soaking from the more usual winter rains. It was as if the mountain were a gruffly bearded man who only

managed to shave off and water-dab a minute fraction of his whiskers and tangled chin hairs.

As of present, Heisen effortlessly endured three weeks of no human contact. Remaining oblivious to his basic needs, he had

not dared to consider dragging himself off the mountain to carry out those accustomed errands among the villagers. Indeed,

the old man was adamant not to miss a single moment of such an extraordinarily melodious botanical performance, as he

fixated with new procedures of high-resolution-scrutiny of Neopenta. The concept of an outer universe beyond the Scientist

and these rare plants was entirely obscured.

Heisens patience and meticulousness amplified, waiting for the protrusion of thatfirstsilky strand, waiting for thefirsttrickle

of orange, waiting for his secondround of the much-anticipated fireworks show waiting waiting waiting as if he were

waiting for the birth of his first newborn

* bumph!* rumble * rumble * rumble * (x 10, with decreasing intensity) * rattle * rattle *ping-cling!*


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until all randomness of arbitrary randomness of space and time multiplied by a generously-dosed prescription of

randomness to the 10th or 11th power!!! Some alternative jolt of fireworks flared at the consciously unacknowledging feet of the

off-guard Scientist! Upon entering his cabinshack to replenish himself with water and fleetingly escape the skin-tingling sun

that eventually vaporized the goopy layer of morning fog, the old man took the form of a clumsy ballerina as he almost lost his

balance at the doorstep with that first ground-jerking pulse, which was then followed by this persistent, yet subdued rumble,

acoustically augmented by the rattling of his dust-ridden tools that were once restfully hanging along the now squeaking

cabinshack walls. The jolt only displaced a wrench and toppled over three trifling, musty boxes of winter clothes.

This earth-beat unrelentlessly transferred into a wave-pulse from crooked toes to thin legs, legs to curved spine, from spine to

twitched head of Heisen, spurring a whirled, panicky shortness of breath, followed by heavy, struggled huff-huff-inhaling,

surging an awareness of bulging beats, waves, rebounding off his internal seawalls of his skull, but having no place to drain nor

dissipate their violent energies. It was beyond a tolerable head acheequivalent to traumatic, mind-pounding convulsions

the Scientist infrequently and inexplicably suffered through in the past, followed by deliriousness, blackouts of split-second

amnesia, with a lack of recollection of any immediate aftereffects. The scholars hammering heart further swelled his

unbearable aches, as he applied weak pressure with his shivering hands to his forehead for some sense of stability. And yet theenraged thumping began to devour, disintegrate, unravel, obliterate several folds of high impermeability as it seemed that the

summation of past randomness of jolting occurrences could no longer allow stagnant subliminality to dwell dormant within

Heisens inner caverns, for these jabbing undercurrents yearned, craved, agonized, demanded with a frightening roar within the

old man to manifest itself into a discrete face. The moaning Scientist managed to limply lean against a barren chunk of wall by

the door and slightly peer up with his glossy eyesfor his neck was too stiffmerely to acknowledge the linear streaks,

shifting dots, and wormy smoke of a homogenously gray universe. Yet, within a few instants, this gray matter spontaneously

formed an infinite number of vectors precisely directed toward the scholar in a speed-of-light-collapsing-convergence-of-a-

Big-Crunch, as if all of reality were to attack and invade his murky hole of a mind. Heisens groans remained largely contained

within the cabinshack as he clumsily banged his knees on the floor. He was being subsumed by the most deadliest andmost

cognizant of protuberating migraines, which was swiftly halted into a split-sec * blackout. * It was uncertain as to whether his

eyes were open or closed, but in another bout of a pressing, rewarped rewind, a diverging, gray-hued Big Bang re-occupied his

perception, except the only difference was that amidst the diverging streaks, dots, and wormclouds of homogenous all-else,

emerged and slowly converged three decipherable, then prominent strata of a yellowbrown hue, originally in a gently-arched

morphology of a rainbow. The distinct streams re-molded into a diffuse, yellow nebula embedded in backdrop gray, swirling

around the Scientist once, twice, threetimes gradually, then more rapidly, as if a planet or planetary system were trying to

condense and consolidate into a consistent, unwobbly orbit around the old manoh! he refrained from conceding to the

inhabitance of aghost!and as the cloud of tanned particles became more and more coherently fused, it sunk lower and lower

to the now distinguishable outlines of the gritty, ragged floor of the cabinshack.

Heisen could not help to notice a novel sensation of dramatic releasereliefan infantile lightness he had long since felt, even

sustained, while simultaneously coping with a major rewiring of his inner totality, which consequentially led to a level of

disorientation among his familiar surroundings. For low and behold, the more finely carved yellow plume churned and

plummeted to a point of a *pop *pop *pop *poof!poof! * bang!* a frantically scampering Child of close-to-out-of-controlscreaming?! As if it were some gray squirrel with rabies?! What is this?!!


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The scholar, still bewildered, blinked once, twice, tentimes, stood stone still on his knees as he watched in a skeptical daze,

then knowing surprise, this frenzied, clamoring Child running about the cabinshack as if it just overindulged itself with a

colossal portion of chocolate chip cookies! And then, as he squinted, dropping his brows, inspecting the finer features of the

Childs unwrinkled, uncharred face, Heisen identified a strange, alien familiarity, as if he were gazing into some projection of

the past, some prehistoric bookmark of his very last shift ofdesiredinward evolution. It was as if a tangy entanglement of Child

juice were squeezed out of the bygone-seasoned orange of a Scientist who was just smashed in an old-fashioned fruit press.

And yet this foreign familiarity somehow prevented the old man from asking the Child some introductory Who are you? and

What are you doing here? questions, let alone exclaim and inquire within himself, What whacky revelations of head aches!

Why am I seeing this nowand not before?! The scholars self-unacquainted instincts furthermore instructed him to engage thishyper kid as a long-time nuisance of a family member he had always unknowingly known. And before the Scientist could even

utter a single word, the bouncy, zig-zag-dashing-about Child squeaked to the top of its lungs, rendering as a blow-of-a-bellow

to the old mans distortive ears:

The mountains coming down! The mountains coming down!!

And Heisen, crafting on-hand antagonistic resentment of this Child, howled back in scolding revolt, Oh shush, shush! You

little beast! What outrageous manners! Dont get your bowels in an uproar! He decided to lift himself from his knees to a

towering stance over the kid, hastily wiping off his slender upper legs. The Scientist barked like a dictator once more, Calm

down, you brutely thing, you!

The Child continued to squawk as it slowed to a skip and a slight hopping by the door, The mountains coming down! The

mountains coming down!!

And the old man beckoned in a gushing, downward, arm-waving blast, Nonsense! You innocent lil fiend! Stop crying

wolf!!! He attempted to ambush the sporadic Child within his arms, yet it was too speedy with its foot-play and mad darts.


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The mountains coming down! The mountains coming down!! I can see it with my eyes! I can hear it with my ears! I can feel

it with my feet! the youngster peep-shrieked a few more times as it hurricaned all over the cabinshack.

Heisen was so provoked and exhausted, he needed to seat himself on a cubic metal case that mimicked a treasure box, as his

lower back leaned against the barren slab of wall. Hoping that this Child would subside its uninhibited energy on its own

terms, the scholar thought that perhaps he could reason with this rodent human. Listen kid! His upper legs provided restful

support for his more-than-ready-to-reproachingly-shake hands. You cant state those claims like so! Besides, who do you

think you are?!

ErrrGonzo! The Child crisply muffled as it decelerated across the room, gawking at the old man with sadistic curiosity,

only to beam the implications of Why not?! along the span of its posture.

Speak up! Heisen blurted in staccato.

Gonzo! My name is Gonzo!! the youngster staggered, yet with righteousness, as if it were just inventing a virtuous label for

itself on the spot.

And for an untrackable moment of near-infinite thinness, the Scientist was confronted with an inexplicable smack, a frank

conceptual blow of unanimous inertia, upon hearing listeningto the existence of such an oddname. And surprisingly the kid,

who was deliberately model-posed as a deranged, midget clown for a Halloween costume store, never bothered to even ask of

Heisens name, as if it were always forced to know him in a dreadful way. The scholar, shocked at the Childs awkward

pressing of its pause button, resumed with a lecturing tone of dignified formality. Listen G-onzo! Heisen resisted to avow

this kids tag term, You cant invent stories from nowhere! You cant just believeyour storiesyour hypothesesand

foolishly, impulsivelyactupon them!

The Child cocked its head and pursed its lips and then bounced and sprinted once again as another faint,faintrumble from

the ground pricked its fright, But I can see it with my eyes! An I can hear it with my ears!! An I can feel it with my feet!!!

With a pinch of angst, the old man propped himself back on his feet and solemnly declared, Listen ugGhhwill you?! You

have to collect datato support your claims! And I mean real, legitimatedata! It was as if Heisen renounced the name of Gonzo

all together.

Though the rumbling stopped, the Child carried on with its ritualistic darting dance in swaggering distress, But themountains coming down

So we have to collect data! the scholar briskly interrupted. His muddled fury elevated as he came to recognize that this

uncontrollable Gonzo was starting to influence, even dictatehis line of action.


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Briefly suspending itself within a skewed cube of sunlight filtering in from the cabinshacks window, the youngster sloppily

jumping-jacked as it blathered away, But the villagers! The villagers said the mountain has a heartbeat! The mountain has a

heartbeat! And the heart erupts once every ten years! And its almost ten! Almost ten!!!

The Child was barely within reach of the now exasperated Scientist, who still desired to pin that little weasel down. He instead

ferociously shook a finger at this taxingly bubbly Gonzo, Listen here, kid! Listen,for once! I dont know where you get your

stories from! Heisen was offended that this youthful creature was forcing him to recollect his past quarrels with the villagers

below. Nowlisten! Those old-timers dont know what theyre talking about! They dont knowanything! All they talk is

voodoo! He shaped his hand into a fist and wielded it mercilessly into the narrow, imaginative space of scornful community

elders in between him and the kids sun-silhouetted shadow. They dont observe with rigor! They cant assume that earth

cycles occur with such consistency, such predictability! Ten years to the T?! Ha! And of course, they dont know the proper way

of coll

And when the heart erupts, the dragon comes out! Gonzo squealed. The dragon of the mountain comes out and sheds the

mountains skin! Once every ten years! The dragons coming out! The dragons coming out!

The scholar spouted off with surrendered animosityalmost a tormenting pleaas he gripped his curly hair and ears with

both of his arms, Bah! Bah! What voodoo! What folklore! What boozy village talk!

They said the dragon rhythms come after the rains! After the fire shaves the plants and uncovers the soils, which are revealed

to the rains! The dragons tears! The Child prolonged its chant while hurdling out of the slanted cube of sunlight, returning

into the residual, dim-mottled ambiance of the cabinshack.

Do you believe infairies?! Do you believe in Santa Claus?!! Heisen challenged with a snicker, as he kneeled down to the

Childs indistinct and unstable eye level.


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But the villagers! The villagers! They saw it with their eyes! They heard it with their ears! They felt it with their feet! Over

many, manyyears! Once, twice, thrice! Once, twice, thrice!!! The kids voice was so shrill that the Scientist cringed.

Now listen, you lil bugger! The old man crept toward the slightly shifting cube of sunlight with bowed knees. I am a

scientist! And I am from the university! he asserted like an authoritarian. And I have a few geology colleagues! And noneof

them ever mentioned any problems with this here mountain!Nothing! No problems! And theywould know better, because they

know theproperway of coll

The villagers! The villagers! They said they never dare go on the mountain! Gonzo fidgeted and paced with a skip. The

Village Head warned that beauoootifulviews come with a price! Beauty comes with a sacrifice!

There is no datafor your claims! Show me the data!!! the Scientist straightened his knees in a rampage. He had heard

enough. It was almost a necessity for his own peace of mind to figure out a method of pacifying this shrieking Child! Then we

shall collect data!

But dont you see with your own eyes?! *yelp *

But we shall collect data! * repeat*

But dont you hear with your own ears?! * screech*

We will be collecting data! * aggravatedrepeat*

But dont you feel

COLLECT DATA!!! Heisen stomped after the nimble Child louse as they both maneuvered toward the door. At that

moment, the scholar exposed an alien familiarity of furiousnessmore so to himself than to the kid, his stern bellowing and

imperious signals, amounting to some elusively desirable plot of whipping this pestly youngster with a beltwhich latently

humiliated him to revisit. The invisible pull of reigns urged the Scientist to break his pace, as his eyes of contempt followed

Gonzos disappearance into the blazing, late morning sun. And dont you daretouch my Neopenta plants! he grumpily called

after it. And yet Gonzo did not even register the request, for it could not even comprehend the term Neopenta.

Despite the fitful scatter of whispery rumbles from the earth below, the Scientist somehow remained unmindful to these

tremors. Perhaps it was the mere evocative presence of that Childchronically absorbing these cogent externalities and

expressing them through its animatingly suffering gestureswho fulfilled as a cyst-like shield of detachment and denial,

buffering Heisen from willfully accounting for and conceding to those outer-worldly trembles.

And so the scholar of recurring disownment spun around while scratching his still mildly throbbing head, and directed himself

toward a mildewy, spider-webbed heap of gadgets at the most unlit corner of the cabinshack, farthest from the crooked door.

The old man had been procrastinating for over half a year to purge these futile clunks of metal, hoping they would appeal to

any villagers knick-knack fancy. But given the current string of incidents, one metal clunk might prove to be particularly

handy. Heisen proceeded to remove and reshuffle a few formerly robust construction tools while intermittently tuning in to

that miniature wild horse of a Child outdoors, still squawking like a parrot, The mountains coming down! The mountains

coming down!


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The Scientist rolled his head side-to-side as he began to mutter as he was thinking aloud, Well, I dont know any geology, and

Im not an Earth Scientist! Im notqualified to do this study! My few friends are, but I dont have any easy access to them back

in the city. And this seems urgent The old man snorted through his nostrils and the grotto of his throat as he was irritated

by that riotous Gonzo. And I need to get that ogresome kidoff my back! Heisen yanked on a few misaligned whiskers along

his chin, And I dont have any funding to pursue such a venture! Its too far from my research interests and Im sure, no

doubt, this is nota hot topic; its notas important as endangered plant research! Now thats a hot topic, big budget funding

And what am I doinghere?! In this danky cabinshack of mine?! I should be with my Neopenta plants right now! This is

ridiculous!

While adjusting his taut, lightly hunched back, and firmly situating his hands on his bony hips, the scholar frustratingly

assessed the encroaching overlay of clutter around two overcast bends within the cabinshack. As a more evident earth shake

surfaced to the attention of the Child, who swerved its rasping objections through the open window, the Scientist re-

descended into the moldy pile in avoidance, griping to himself, But this is the mountain where I live, and this happens to be

my backyard and I have this old contraption my Earth Scientist friend Bernard dumped on me as junkbecause he thinks

Im a nimrod and I value hisjunk! he added in sarcastic reminiscence, And nowhehas the latest model! And I dont know

whyI have this, but here I do have itoh yes, the temperature readings! Thats why I wanted it! And why dont I collect data

with this?!

As if he were a sorcerer with capacities unconstrained by physical laws, Heisen elevated toward the dust-speckled streams of

sunlight his massive magic box, an archaic, green-grayish, rusting, borderline compact, yet still clunky gizmo of a machine

that resembled some prototype of a microsupercomputer that couldbe designed by a modern, geeky 11-year-old kid. With the

underpinning tone of resentful collaboration, the old man thrusted this inane box of buttons and knobs and screens and

antennas out the window toward the alarmed, sidestepping Gonzo and hollered, And we shall collect data!!!

The youngster, who tilted its rump into the air while having one ear to the grassy ground, still delineated the features of worry

across its jittery form. In counteracting his own inwardly cloaked negativity, the Scientist could not help but self-admit a

compelling urge to calm the youngster through a repetitive mode of false certainty. Now kid, we will collect data with this here

contraption!

Instead of demonstrating any preferred note of respectful appreciation, the Child remorphed into a bouncy-ball from its

ostrich position. It fanatically wailed as it flurried about, carving elliptical shapes along the grasses with its feet,

Datadatadatadatadatadatadatadatadatadatadatadatadatadata!!! There is no timefor data! There is no timefor data!!! Dont we

know enough?! The mountains coming down! The mountains coming down!!!

* bumph-pumph! * rumble * rumble * rumble* x 5 (with decreasing intensity) *rattle * rattle *ping-cling!*

As Heisen groaned and viciously slapped his forehead treading out into the full sunlight, a second outbreak of jab-jolting

fireworks surged through the groundperhaps less shocking than the first, as if the Scientist and the Child were being

plagued by desensitizationand yet Gonzo dizzily buzzed and scuttled amuck more like a horde of bees around the hunched-

over scholar, who thoughtlessly dropped the clunky metal machine on a heap of overgrown grass, unable to pay heed to any

erratic elements around him, for in this unaccounted-for stretch of helplessness, the old mans mind was shuddered by more

rapid, frying-like pressure swells of electrical currents than the first round of more protracted, yet seeminglyuncontrollable,


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agonizing waves. It was as if an ailment was pulsing his limp form that instead dislodged and expanded its own permanent

physical constraints rather than unraveling his malleable, yet impermeable mental folds. Somehow, amidst the frantic zooming

and grass-skidding, the Child feebly watched Heisen crumple into an ever tighter fetal position, still half-upright in a volatile

stance, as if he were ready to collapse to the tremulous earth at any instant. Yet several indications pointed toward an external

diagnosis of a less debilitating head ache, as marked by the Scientists less frequent, huff-heaving of shortness of breath. Once

again, the scholars perception had drifted to those streaks, dots, wormclouds of a gray homogeneous universe, followed by a

vectored convergence of a Big Crunch *blackout, * leading to a series of weighty whimpers in reacquisition of a rewarped,

rewind divergence of a Big Bang, desqueezing the virtuality of his reality, coupled with an inner drainage of colossal release

relief. And instead of locking into focus of three decipherable yellow strata, there emerged three streaks in very apparent shades

of rustic-red, shaping a deeply sloped, upside-down parabola, which placed the old man in a fixated stupor, tracking this now

rouge nebula against the background gray fuzz, whirling around him once, twice, three times, slowly, then more rapidly, in this

second organic manufacturing of a planetary system. The plume trickled down lower, lower, condensing, consolidating, fusing,

exerting reddish-orange flashes of light churned and plummeted to the grassy area below to a point of a *pop *pop *pop *

poof!poof! * bang!* a zealously scampering, ever to precocious, slick-lick-lick of a medium-sized, rustic-red-fur-coatedamiable dog?! What is this?!!

Aoof! Aoofff!! I-hah! I-haahhh! Ihahahhh!!! * wag-wag* lick * lick * slurp * lick * wag-wag* wag*

The Scientist, still perplexed, blinked once, twice, tentimes, straightening out the curvatures of his spine, as he intently beamed

in a surprised, slight smile of a daze, with a notion of novel liberation, a quasi-conscious regression to a state of infantile

lightness. An internal reconfiguration generated another bout of disorientation for Heisen, who was in utter disregard of the

more fretful Gonzo. The Child, who did not understand the groaning convulsions the old man displayed, nor did it recognize

where this hyper doggie gizmo came from and whether it was real, began scurrying about as if it were floundering atop a

flaming bed of coal.


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The scholar squinted, plunging his brows, mentally charting the dogs finer featuresperhaps it was a beagle, or some kind of

all-around, multi-bred mutt of sorts, but it was exceptionally bulgy-eyed and tarnished-red in color. Oblivious to the minor

ground tremors, it barked and yapped around and round until it paralleled the spurts of the frightened Gonzo, expelling its

endless supply of bountiful energy, which seemed equivalent to that of a border collie. The dog continued to stroke and rub

and tickle the Childs stick-like legs with its soft, short hair and rubbery paws until the youngster finally slowed down to

acknowledge the tangible, friendly existence of this canine. The Scientist was appalled to observe this licky-lick mutt even

minutely transform Gonzos apprehensions into a few splashes of giggles, as if this creature were some type of amicable

mediator, capable of easing accumulated tensions between the scholar and the youngster.

After an extended interval of Child-canine bonding and skidaddling and play-hunting and gleeful screaming and * aoofing* and

* ihaahing* in front of the cabinshack, with these two wispwindy beings terraforming butterfly-shaped tracks and trails along

the grass patches, the rustic-red dog decelerated and appeared to shake off all interest in the pursuit of random diffusion of

energy. Its distressing rip away from Gonzo, while radiating a more rigid posture, determined, tunnel-visionary eyes, and

locked jaws clamping down upon its sloppy, slobbery tongue, represented a drastic metamorphosis of disposition, as if the

mutt shed its blossoming coat of diversity for a more monotone regime of ambitiousness, which solely craved for one

insurmountable taskof endlessly, repetitively chasing sticks and frisbees and carrots, incessantly catching and grilling various

manifestations of rodent burgersall with such maniacal fixation and tedious precision, withholding cognizance of most other

potentially pertinent constituents of reality except for the assigned duty at hand. The canines gestalt of a trot beaconed thetrait of obsessive loyalty that breeched insanityloyalty to running for the sake of running, loyalty to sniffing and probing and

collecting for the sake of sniffing and probing and collecting, loyalty to labor for the sake of laborwithout barking a single

question, without a single eye-flutter or tail-wag of doubt, without ever, everwhining a why, as if it were more than willing

and eager to perform the same suite of tasks to its eternal end at the expense of its thirst, its hunger, its need for rest and

perhaps even at the sacrifice of its own life?! And all for the ultimate reward of a mere fleeting, nonchalant pat and rub and

gaze of loyalty and pride from its master?!

In abandonment of the turmoiled Child, the restless dog started to feverishly stride around the Scientist closer, closer,

closer as if it were an under-stimulated Martian Rover who was shipped all the way to Mars without a single missiona

single, bold and perilous duty that needed to be accomplished for the sake of humanity beyond the desires any one specific

self. The tarnished beast of habit stared upward toward the baffled Heisen so desperately, so addictively that the old man

wondered whether this mutt would disintegrate into dust right in front of him, given that he didnt provide this organic

machine with a task.

A task. A task! Thats it!A task! the scholar sparked as he jumped a few grass-lengths off the soil. Amen to my malaise!

Thats it! At that moment, the Scientist derived a strange, alien familiarity, as if he were glancing at, then examining some

extension of his present, old-age inabilities a sheer essentiality of an embryonic ally at hand a mimicry of his own enviable


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veins of compulsion for collecting data with rigor. It was as if Heisen had acquired an extra biorobot device with four

evolutionary limbs and a puppet of a mind. Oh! Such immediate worth, this dog! This rustic-red dog!

The old man was quick to snicker toward the shivering Gonzo, who posed despondently, limply, as if it were chained and

locked in a prison. Nowkid, we will collect data with this here contraption on this here dog! the Scientist then whistled in

jarring notes not even found on the piano, and the canine swiftly responded, breaking all hesitations and spatial barriers, as it

crept up to nosily sniff and lick the scholars tattered shoes. Heisen sporadically scrubbed its fuzzy head for the first time, and

gradually progressed to rub its solid, meaty back, as its tail shot up to near-vertical position. He toyfully tugged on it, as the

mutt wagged voraciously within his loosely clenching hand.

The Scientist then decided to call it Rover Dog.

Rover Dog! the scholar resolutely ordered while the not-too-distant Child origamied its arms, then suspended its fists to its

imaginary jail-cell bars as it still glued its attention to the trifling company of shaky terrains. Now listen here! Heisen spun

around twice until his eyes spotted the clunky metal apparatus, partially dangled and dampened on its side, embedded within a

bundle of overgrown grass just below the cabinshacks window. Wait a second! He retrieved the contraption, shook and

rattled it around with impatience, fiddled with the antennas and wires, receded into the darkness of the cabinshack andresurfaced as promptly as he vanished, flaunting in his palms the occupation of two bulky batteries within plain view of the

anxious Gonzo and Rover Dog, whammed the batteries within a fittingly empty slot just underneath the machines

motherboard, tinkered with three more antennas and double-checked two elusive rows of sensors, casually pressed five

random buttons, then two more, and with a grand grin, as if he emitted a false aura of masterly confidence, the Scientist bent

down as far as he could to plop and fasten the clunky device onto the Rover Dogs brawny back.

The mutt whimpered upon first contact with the chilled, moist metal of the apparatus, but it wagged and jiggled its torso like a

snake, devising an impression of comfort with this extended body part, as if the canine were disposed to alter its identity to

a dilapidated camel. The unwieldy piece of equipment rendered a close-to-deficient portion of a jigsaw puzzle to the Rover

Dogs morphology, as the Scientist managed to obtain a worn belt for steadying the machine as a marginally integral

component of the mutts overall physique. The canine stomped round and round, establishing its innovated posture and

burst of ambition. Heisen scrambled in and out of the cabinshack, only to re-target the shadowy corner where he first

discovered the clunky contraption, as he had come to retrieve the grimy, caked, and moderately torn instruction manual for

the device. He zipped back outdoors and surveyed with gleeand to the Childs dismaythat there was no suggestion of any

major struggle for the Rover Dog to maneuver itself.

After clearing his throat at least 101 times while flopping through the instruction manual, the scholar plunked his knees to the

yielding turf, right beside the still-wiggly canine, and began reading bolded words and phrases aloud with clumsy authority,

while simultaneously shifting wires and buttons on the bulky apparatus. Nowlisten, Rover Dog! You will be collectinguhn a variety of lotsof of data! Several lines ofvaliddata! Ummm, lets see here. You will beAHA! So here

* beep! * * beep! * OH! Aha! Yes, the on button! * wzzzzzzzzzzzz*jjjshhh*jjjshhh*jjjshhh* The machine initiated its

whizzzing, whijjjing, and whirrring, then phasing into obnoxiousjiggerbujhzzing, that eventually droned out as backdrop white noise

* beep * click * beep * You will be collecting data uh on grain size, or rock size! Heisen firmly announced. * Ft! Ft! Ft! *

He flipped a few pages. * click-click * And uhn degree of compaction of the soils, sediments, rock materials! *Jggh-beep *

* Ft! * And and youll also be measuring ummm any signs of movement or recent displacement of any rock material,

ifmeasurable *jt*jt* click-click * Ft! * Hmmm lets see what else here * Ft! Ft! Ft! * And you will be detecting

magnitudes of any ground quakes if there are any!


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The Scientist pressed two more buttons, in which one sounded a lengthier * bzzzjjjjjhhh* and illuminated a dull, red light in the

square middle of the motherboard. He slammed shut the instruction manual, which exhumed a localized cloud of dust. While

propping himself away from the canine, both the old man and the Rover Dog violently sneezed. Oh ya! Yes,yes! Heisen

spouted off amidst his residual sniffing, You are to look for any significant cracks on the ground! Any major fault lines that

could be associated with anyrumbling! The red mutt wave-wagged ferociously and dropped its unruly lick-lick tongue with

uncontainable contentment, now that it embodied a specific search image, and a scrupulous assignment requiring the

execution of a suite of noble, yet arduous duties.

Though he still revealed hints of uncertainty and tender discomfort of his own credentials in the Earth Sciences, the scholar

upon the irking presence of that disgustful Childwas coerced to sprint forward as he hastily instructed the Rover Dog to

chronicle its random walk sampling regime all around the mountain. He even advised the canine to cover and collect data in

higher resolution and frequency within any particular zone that seemed more problematic. In addition, the old man coaxed

the mutt not to worry about the self-operating machine on its back, just as long as that mega-gadget remained secure and

clamored a * chugga-chugga-chugga *fnk-fnk * wsssssjjjshhh* when operating and sampling. Naively gesturing its newfound

purpose with a gigantic slurp-lick on his lower leg, the Rover Dog reassured the Scientist that it understood the underlying

meaning of its masters orders.

After a last-minute sequence of functional confirmations of the whizzing contraption, Heisen finally bid farewell to the Rover

Dog on its ephemeral, yet demanding adventure. You can and mustgo nearly everywhere, but dont you dare get close to

trampling myNeopentaspectavolus granelliplants! he megaphoned after it. And yet the romping red mutt did not register the

request, for it could not even comprehend the term Neopentaspecta-aoof-gran-aoof-aoof-rouff!

Briefly closing its eyes and tilting its nose upward, with an unintentional status signal of petworthy, snooty royalty, the red

canine sauntered right past the sullen Gonzo with such an air of concentration, it was as if it could no longer perceive its

existence. And the youngster simply glared at the Rover Dog as if it were some mysterious, mind-boggling alien, as it steadily

morphed and shrunk in size and shape with greater distance. It called out in mortified agony, You puppet mut! The

mountains coming down! Where are your senses?! You dont need a silly machine!

And the scholar allowed himself to sigh in relief, as his beaming eyes followed the noble mutt disappear into the neighboring

gully, What an extraordinary creature! At such impeccable timing! To think if I performed this wearisome sampling task on

my ownclose to impossible! The old man acknowledged the onset of frailty of his form, given his progressing age.

And YOU! Heisen eyeballed the now very silent, distraught Child, who squatted on a small bare patch of soil, expressing

extreme signs of depressing immobility. And YOU! All because of YOU, kid! We are finally collecting data! the old man

scolded, Are you happynow?!

Gonzo was too drained, too wilted, too fatigued, and perhaps even too stubborn to reply. Its brows sagged as if it discovered

the pointlessness of yelling and panicking and dust-deviling around the same recurring messages to this dense-headed Scientist

It would only sit and remain glossy-eye-entranced by the hazy horizon of the choppy, white-washed ocean, paying petty heed

to a few isolated popcorn clouds floating by.

Fed up with its despondency, the old man glowered toward the lump-of-a-glum-Child, Bah! Youre helpless! Youre

counterintuitive! Will anythingplease you?! Calm you down?! Heisen spat in resentment, and yet he was secretly satisfied to


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witness this rambunctious youngster truly subsisting in a calmer, yet downcast state, who was still powerlessly absorbing the

cryptic perturbations below. Re-inhabiting the shadows of the cabinshack to organize some of the messy interiors, the scholar

excitedly remembered his dear Neopenta plants; hopefully they refrained from displaying their first bloom behind their

caretakers back!

The Rover Dog sauntered away at a consistent pace, knowing that it needed to kick into a second wind as soon as possible,

such as to sustain its Martian Rover persona. It engaged in a supreme sniffing bout, as if it were concurrently attempting to

chase squirrels and conceded to loyalty of the Scientists random-walk needs. The clunky contraption whishjjjedand whirrredandjiggerbzzzjjjed, extracting micro-core samples with its miniscule metallic armsprotruding outward, folding inwardand

recorded readings along the immediate vicinity of the red mutt with its few rows of highly activated sensors, while numbers

were being stored within a very slim, flat internal computer underneath the motherboard. Random walk was indeed the

march of this canine, as it ventured from peak to trough to peak, ridges to gullies, gentle to steep slopes, with all kinds of

rough and smooth surfaces of various rock types, coated by a spectrum of shrub densities. From an aerial, birds-eye view, the

Rover Dogs trail resembled a series of highly packed folds within the anomalously shaped brain case of the mountain. It was

conducting its duty of rigorous, meticulous data collection, yet the mutt was unceasingly inundated with its own sense of

inadequacy, concerned of a gap-ridden census, feeling like it was missing vital information in minor regions, which could

potentially yield major conclusions. Thejiggerbujhzzingdevice, which largely embodied a mode of dormancy and non-operation

for a questionable number of years, was probably not up to parat least for university standardsfor such a significant

task of assessing the mountains levels of stability and prospective risks. As Heisen relaunched his own systematic observations

of the three patches of Neopenta, he couldnt help speculating in the outskirts of his thoughts as to whether the red canines

efforts would suffer from the pervasive Nyquist Disease, in which the sampling resolution would be so low that the resulting

data would not have the capacity to portray the true mechanisms, patterns, and phenomena of reality. Nevertheless, the old

mans forceful fixation on his flowers was pillowing, bufferinghis turbulent mind from any pessimistic wrinkles of insecurity, as

he struggled to maintain a zealous confidence in the red mutt and the machines capabilities.


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While the Scientist pursued his obsessive floral adoration behind the cabinshack, the Child never budged from the front. The

kid crafted a contrasting condition of antsy, cautionary stagnancy; though it registered subtle-to-magnified vibrations of the

terrain, it never garnered any intrigue to expose itself to the scholars passions for rare flowers. Just to lapse the achingly slow

pace of time, the youngster acquired some meditative, attractive focusa distancing attachment of a search image for the dot-

sized Rover Dog against the sun-fading, textured slopes of the mountain. And it would slightly whimper with visual departure,

when the canine rescinded over crests into denser, shrub-filled ravines. The old mans forceful fixation on Neopenta was

pillowing, buffering his turbulent mind from any conscious, pessimistic wrinkles, as he struggled to wheedle out a zealous

confidence in the red mutt and the machines capabilities.

During the red mutts quest, Heisen furtively approached the front side of the cabinshack only once. He wished that nuisance

Gonzo could just dart off the mountain, could just downright bail out of this whole scenario it wriggledno, shoveditself

into, and leave him and his Neopenta plants alone. But no, for some reason, somehow, to the scholars chagrin, the Child was

apprehensively anchored on the patch of bare ground, bundled in trembling aloofness waiting waiting waiting for the

Rover Dogs much anticipated return just as the Scientist had been waitingfor the fireworks bloom of his Neopenta. Except

now, he was surveying his near-blossoms with distractions of friction and worry: tension between him and that kid, and

distress for the canines collection of data. For once Heisen started a project and implemented an efficient suite of routines, he

was adamant to finish it, or the task would remain an ever-growing tumor of preoccupation.

Oh! How unconformities evolved in the mental outcrops of the Child and the Scientist! They were riddled with thickened,

mounting beds and laminations of highest resolution in preservation, then punctured by missing layers of erosional

significanceblackouts, essentiallyomitted chunks of swept-away memoiric sediments in split instants or millions of years?

How can hours compound like years, months, days, snaps of fingersliterally,figurativelyhours upon hours upon hours: was

it the same day? Or was it the staggering, later afternoon of a differentdaybut it was wearing such a similar sunny cast of

weather as the time when the Rover Dog embarked on its zen-like trek of pinpoint data collection! It was a deliriously

doubtful passing of time for both Heisen and Gonzo, for the scholar had been measuring time with the slothsome growth of

the Neopenta patches, and the youngster had been charting time with the gradual amplification of enigmatic grumblings of the

earth

* bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! * rumble * rumble * rattle * wrrrrrrrrrrrr* bjjjshhhzzz* bjjjshhhzzz*fnk!fnk!fnk! *Aoof! * I-hah! * I-haahhh! * Ihaaahhh!!! *

The jolting commotion was great enough to breach the Childs stupor as it leaped to its feet like a once-floored gymnast,

peeping, scanning the proximate environs with new surges of unbottled madness, for this fireworks-of-a-rupture truly

resembled more and more of a massive heartbeat. An excessively panting, exhausted Rover Dog, now with a distinctive limp

on its right foreleg, appeared as a shapely dot over the nearest slope and unhurriedly scraggled closer toward the cabinshack.

Barely recognizable in its grungy varnish of dark-brown soot, the once red canine quivered as if all of its fragile limbs were

ready to cave in and crack underneath its torso. It retained just enough energy to plop itself in bowed mercy onto the squirmy

and shaky feet of Gonzo! The bulky device awkwardly positioned along the mutts spine thundered a wissisisssssjjjjjzzzhhhing

noise, as if it needed to vent compulsory plumes of heat, as if shifted into a cluckercluckerfsjfsjfsjjjzzznon-data-amassing standby

mode.

The youngster, who was tormented by the decaying company of the broken-record Rover Dogwho was about to collapse

from unadmitted overtirednesswailed once more, Oh! Oh! Rover Dog! Youre back! Youre back!But the mountains still


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coming down! The mountains stillcoming down! Gonzo aggressively stomped into the cabinshack and easily stumbled

upon a jug of water, a shallow pan, and a dented can of pickled meat in order to offer these visceral necessities to the subsided

canine. Yet the mutt was so wiped out that it had difficulty lifting its head to drink any water placed right beside its snout.

Sluggishly responding to the novel acoustic inputs of racket from the front of the cabinshack, Heisen labored to part himself

from his Neopenta plants. At first the old man was jealously annoyed to encounter the Childs generous deed of spoon-

feeding the crumpled Rover Dog, but he quickly diverted his internal spotlight toward the chunky data-crunching contraption,

now tilted at a hazardous angle over the side of the dogs back. In a status of visible salivation, the scholar sloppily pressed an

assortment of buttons on the lower section of the motherboard until finally some rather long receipt-like sheet of paper

smothered with symbolic letters and numbers beaded in lengthy columnsbegan to unravel from a thin, perceptually

bypassable slit on the side of the machine opposite from the motherboard. The Scientist was so glued with the outpour of

numbers that he didnt even consider attending to the somewhat failing gasps of the device, nor removing the now very

weighty piece of equipment from the strained back of the canine, who was too weak to moan in complaint. The grappling

Gonzo, still tipping the pan of water to the mutts sliver-opened mouth, watched in disgust the old man, who seated himself

on a partially shade-coated, rudimentary wooden bench by the door of the cabinshack, and indulged in scanning, scrutinizing,

dissecting, and assimilating the anarchic array of digits of so-called data for a seemingly long, longtime. Heisen muttered

oh-so many instances during this numerical orientation, as he kept yearning for his former university office computer, though itwas unfeasible to transport and operate in such a remote region without an electrical grid. Yet gradually, his own computer of

a mind started to generate some elementary associations, patterns, relationships, perhapsprocesses, perhaps even some vague

sensation of a profound equation oftruthacross the multitude of figures, while inquisitively talking to himself aloudYa,

indeed, aha oh, ummm, really?as backdrop tremors continued to churn the undersides of the earth.

Nevertheless, the conundrum of variables sprayed across that curling receipt rendered to be in a murky shade of

incomprehensible jumble. Was a mega-computer truly needed? Or was the primitive mainframe of the Scientists brain

enough to suffice a synthesis? Some patterns wereidentifiable by eyesight, yet was the scholar unadmittedly overwhelmed by

the overload of information?! Was he braving himself to conjure a coherent reality of visual connectivity that is ultimately too

multivariate for numerical analysis?! Or maybe, the present summation of inner and outer pressures formulated these folds of

tangled impermeability within the old man, preventing the craft of any conceptuality?!

Did Heisen come to perceive this extensive tapestry of numerals with a pre-existing notion in his head?! A presupposed filter?!

A preconceived hypothesis?! An underlying motive of a counter vision?! That could have either encouraged or hindered the

Scientist to see whatever order that he came to see in his informal magic prance of statistics?! And the chaos he chose to tune

out?! Was he just another plagued victim of congruent emotional dissension, yet entirely irrational dissonance?! Elaborating his

final, yet still evolving conclusion on the state of the mountain to be complete inconclusivity?!

In a resolving and astoundingly self-gratifying inference that happened to oppose the Childs proposition of the mountainscoming down, the scholar solemnly lifted himself from the bench and gained some level of awareness of his immediate

surroundings. He found Gonzo alone, engulfed by its droopy eyes, with an empty pan by its side, poking at the dying clunky

machine with an extremely low battery charge. And strangely, this youngster was besieged by a faint, reddish, smokey spiral of

subliminal heaviness inexplicable to the senses of the Scientist.

Wheres Rover Dog?was the only mildly concerning question that popped into the forefront of the old mans streamlined

thoughts, but as soon as he attempted to toss this trivial fret aside, Heisen was bombarded by this brash wave of mysterious

overcast as soon as he was in contact with this fading, red nebula which then swirled about him, condensed to a dwindling


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layer of mist along the soil, and vaporized toward no source in particular. However, the scholar was swift to accept this

cumbersome mass of air as he consumed more burden through the unwanted, enveloping accompaniment of that Tumor of a

Child in his environment, in his mind. And perhaps to the fortunate or oblivious witness of Gonzo, the Rover Dog had

soundlessly vanished into a red-brown haze, evaporating as fast as the sun-exposed mid-morning fog fissioning, discretely

to diffusely without a bark, a moan, a whisper, a sniff or lick good-bye. Did this canine dissolve from the sheer dire

fatality of its exhausted existence?! From such a rampant, savage task of data collecting?!

One way or another, the Child radiated a dampened aura of trauma from the mutts ethereal departure. It crouched on its

knees, as if it were ready to implode in unbearable energy, as if the absence of the mediating Rover Dog fueled it with another

mound of chocolate chip cookies. Whereas Heisen, who was so pre-occupied with vaporizing this pestilent Child Tumor,

stormed up to the youngster and thrust the crinkly, coiled receipt of data into its face while sneering with pride, AHA! Aha-

ha! There is inconclusive evidencedemonstrating the mountain is coming down! Or mostof it, that is! You can sink your story to the

bottomof the ocean! Alas, for now! He then unexpectedly hesitated as his tongue rolled over itself. There needs to be more

rigorous data analysis The old man retracted the sheet from the Childs stone face. I will send this research to my geology

colleagues His eyelids wavered in uncertainty. But this is the first, substantial sweep of assessing the conditions of the

correlations His voice re-boosted its self-assurance. And they are weak veryweak, dear Child! Ha-ha!

The kid was more appalled and unyielding than ever, as it sprung to its feet much like a slinky, while the scholar more

complacently resumed, There should be no concern, for the data shows general stability of the

The mountains coming down! The mountains coming down! Gonzo couldnt help itself but interrupt in a nerve-jerking

scream like an intolerable brat in a riotous dance of a temper tantrum, And I can see it with myeyes! And I can hear it with

myears! And I can feel it with myfeet! And these are my senses! And this is the story of the villagers!

The youngster arm-and-hand-waved, fervently delineating several deposits of lines and shapes that provided a consolidating

impression of a painting on an airy canvas, in which Gonzo was trying to overlay this prototype upon the Scientists dot-

riddled paper. The somewhat smudgy, numinous image of the Childs data, which elevated and suspended off the ground,

resembled some form of an elementary graphic model of the status of the mountain, except this model was daubed in a hasty,

homogeneous blurry style of Monet. And despite its degree of fuzziness, this imageerrr,paintingmay have elucidated more


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And these truths are to inform decision-makers! To inform policy and management! And to inform any change of behavior,

change of mentality! Numb to any tremored commotions, the scholar extracted a sole finger from his gripped fist to heave

into the unsteady air.

But arent you Gonzo peeped.

Im not here to impose mysubjective opinions! I am not here to change the system! Science is to inform policy, not to be

political!!! Heisen fumed.

going to get off the mountain. the Childs voice tapered off.

* bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! * rumble * rumble * rumble * rattle * rattle * rattle * wssshhh! *

The infuriated Scientist stopped dead in his tracks as the misaligned kid adjusted to the unstable ground, almost bumping into

the mans bony legs. He redirected his bruised, crooked finger toward the whitened face of the youngster, right in its widened,

nerve-filled eyes, How DARE you call me a POLITICIAN!!! Youyouyou little rat!!! How DARE

youINSULT me!

Whether spitting was intentional or not, Heisens miniature droplets of mucous flared from his mouth onto Gonzos puffy,white cheeks. The scholar repositioned his stiff lower back to a stretched, standing posture, with bracing support from his

hands. As a jab of pain shot from his spine, fireworks-ploding to the far reaches of his form, the Scientist bellowed, I am to

discover WHAT IS!!! Not to create what OUGHT TO BE!!!

But, but, but the Child softly retorted. When we learn something new, dont we unthinkinglychange the way we see?

Change the way we think? The way we do? Change the way we even maintainourhome, our land? Its tune lightened even


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further. And how much do we needto know to change our views? Change our doings? Our home? Must we be burned by dry

shrubs? Cracked by cobble? Drowned with mud? To finallywake up and see?!

It was the first time the youngster had ever faltered, had ever considered twice to utter a word. And and arent you going

toget offthe mountain?!! Arent wegoing to get off the mountain?!! I need to get off the mountain! Help!!!Help me!!! It was the

first time this seemingly independent, unruly Gonzo asked for the old mans help.

* bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! * rumble * rumble * rumble * rattle * rattle * rattle *ping-cling! *

Still so driven, soprovokedto break away from the Child Tumor, so determinedto bask within the sole neon-orange-petalled

streaks of optimism, lingering in his lifes well of floundering pessimism, Heisen persisted in his struggled, tremulous march to

the back area of the cabinshack, while blurting over his shoulder, I am what the world iswhat it iswhat it is,WHAT IT IS! I

dare not venture to that dark sideof the forest! Of all that canpossiblybe! Of all needingchange! Of all needinghelp! It is OUT

of MY HANDS!!!

* bumph!-pumph! *bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! *bumph!-pumph! *rumble * rumble * rattle *

The youngsters eyes spilled a stream of tears during the most unrelentingly audible, tactile, even visibly discernable trembling

of the earth below. I wanna get off the mountain!I wanna get off the mountain!!!

Go! SHOO!!! Go away you lil bugger! You pestly thing, you! Get offMYmountain! Leave me to MYplants!!! The scholar twisted his

torso to maddeningly flail his curly drape of a data receipt in front of the Childs face, hoping it would serve as a sorcerers

wand for receding the vaporizing the kid, just as the Rover Dog had petered out to a vague imprint of heaviness. And yet the

old man had to swiftly yank away the receipt as soon as the moping Gonzo had almost used the tail of the roll as essential

tissue paper.

Realizing the futility of beridding the youngster, Heisen fiercely wrenched his head and acutely, yet droninglyrepeated: There is

inconclusive evidence from the Rover Dog! There is no incentivefor me to move off this mountain!


With each thrashing step forward, with each resisting stomp toward Neopenta, the pounding in the Scientists mind swelled,

inflated to an internal raging warfare, as he drastically attempted to barricade and gun down any budding alternatives than the

course of action he was currently carving. He refusedto reveal to the weeping, abandoned Childlet alone admit to himself

how he could not face up to being proven wrongby the local villagers, for he was a professor, and he was neverwrong and healways kneweverythingthat was required to be known. He refusedto cut strings from his self-constructed stable home of a

cabinshack, immersed in the serenely brilliant Neopenta plants and the ghostly fog-eclipsed sunrises and sunsets for the last

three years for perhaps it was the first time in overfour decadeshe had established a self-desired routine of restful calmness!

He refusedto renounce his bond to the Great Outdoors and relocate himself to any human-infested habitat of this planet,

especially those resembling the locale of a metropoliscape! He refusedto acknowledge that he no longer craved to interact with

so many humans, let alone with this rabid Gonzo, one of the most distressing nuisances of all! He refusedto be reminded of

those awkward transactions and selectively maneuvering conversations within the social matrix below. Flat out, Heisen


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repelled any relations with human fleshpotentially even the flesh of his own form! The very last thing he needed was to be

reminded ofanyof his black box past, anythingat all.

And such a summation of a conceivably irreducible way of life on the mountainof mere plants and sunscapes and the

cabinshacksomehow kept the scholar in one outwardly sensible piece, urging him, moving him perhaps tunnelinghim,

even corneringhim forward to this ultimately insignificant, yet converging point in space and time of the ongoing,

hammering, now, now, now. And just for this apparently infinite span of a spliced moment, the Scientists accumulation of

interior maps subconsciously rattled, jiggled, and peeled away in a poundingly painful silence.


But dont you want to get off the mountain to SAVE YOUR LIFE?!! YOU HAVE TO GET OFF!!!WE HAVE TO

GET OFF!!! While Gonzo shrouded the old man with ceaseless, jittery exclamations, it began to notice a horrifying paleness,

a whiteness pervading across Heisens body, a whiteness of failing combat, a whiteness of malfunctioning detachment, a

paleness of no longer desiring to deal perhaps even with himself.

* bumph!-pumph! *bumph!-pumph! *bumph!-pumph! *bumph!-pumph! * bumph!-pumph! *rumble * rumble * rumble * rattle *ping-cling! *

Through a few erratic blinks, even more erratic as the grounds fluttering heart, the scholar tried to tap into the Childs clamor

once more but alas! The rim of the Scientists left eye pricked a glimmer of radiant neon-orange. His neck creaked slowly to

the side, only to detect a hairline of this overwhelming hue, and a sliver of a strand of silk scarcely jutting out from one of the

first bloomingNeopentaspectavolus granelli. The old man desperately envisioned to sprint toward the budding grandeur of an

emerging idol of a flowerthe luminous flourishing of one of the last remaining absolute lovesin his lifebut he could only

proceed in the clumsiest of his frolicky bouts, with arduous straining of peripheral muscles and tendons when coordinating his

strides with the reverberating earth. Heisens vocal slurs festered as they were shoved back into his tightened throat whenseveral racketed regions of his mind were blasted with micro-bombs, as he was challenging himself to decimate all else that

could possibly be perceived, And besides if the mountain doesshed its skin what is the likelihood it will affect

me?!

The Scientist labored to seat himself by the most promising of Neopenta plantsthe one flower seemingly destined to first

open to its full glory. And, oh gracious! It had been two unbearably prolonged years of a tiresome wait, just to witness, just to

splurge into these biological fireworks! Drenched in his inner-outer blockades of thundering rumbles, the old man finally

began to distinguish the fruits of his self-overbearing patience a shy, slothful breaching of crimped petals. In a supersensory

hyperengrossment, the scholar jerked and resettled once again, digging his scraggling shoes into the soil, clutching to more

gangly strands of grass, clinging to already-dislodged pebbles and just staredandfocusedand staredandfocused at the sheer

opening of this firecracker display of a terribly bright, orange-flowered fleshy shoot amidst the golden hour of a glowing

sunset as if he were bowing down to the magnificence of an Earthly SubDeity. And there was almostan instant in which the

near-blinding orange allowed Heisen to successfully obstruct all elements from his fixated mind including that swarming,

ominous Child. The augmented, peach-like illumination of the core bands of petals, punctured by the centrally-placed sky-blue

fluffball of stamens and pistils instilled the fleeting splendor of quietness, the deceptive placidity of a static blur embracing this

crisply distinct blossom.Alas!it was just the Scientistand hisNeopenta, ScientistNeopentaat last


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And again, out of fortuitous unexpectations, a warped bedding of time evolvedmuch like a marker etch, no! a blazing scab,

no! a permanent tattoowithin the scholars interior realm. Were they re-shifting folds to be tumbled and deposited into near-

lagersttten preservation? Or to an entire erosion, erasure? At the fringes of sacred idleness between the twothe old mans

piercing mental consumption of Neopenta down to the flowers crux of arbitrary pseudoexistence, to which it could not return

an equivalent replyGonzo the Child, upon its graceless, creeping advance (who had never come across any Neopenta plants

before, and never aspired to even seethem) inadvertently and passingly laid, and even restedits sporadic, fretful yet curious,

darting eyes upon this extraneously blistering orange for the very first time and paused in its glimpse with ephemeral

fascination and scrutiny. Its head bobbled playfully, with a reverential esteem for change of topic to all that it pursued

aligning with any childs intuitive motives of seeking, exploring, inspecting diversity, uncertainty, and non-linear dendricity

only committing to a transient, whimsical liking of any particular sub-system belonging to a more extensive, perplexing atlas of

reality. And quite soon after, to the tampered vexation of Heisen, the youngsters eyes sprung off, pulled away from such a

dazzling bloom in its innocent, youthful protocols, treating the flower like a toy to fondle and rightfully place and then

disposingly forgetwithin a matter of minutes, seconds ready to progress to the next intriguing item of the assembly line of

cerebral sparkles. And with this inter-linking-and-severing of the Childs halfhearted stare, a most outlandishly fundamental

nuclear reaction of near-complete displacement and rearrangement of atomic structure continued to detonate upon the

Scientists eyes to a brief blindness of a broken spell as if the interplay among the three unwillfully elucidated a recalibrating,

pervasive perceptual poisonbetween the scholar and Neopenta.

Was it a beauty too emptily profound?! An attraction too unnecessarily true?! An animate divinity of too much insignificant significance?!

Surrendering to the foreign, choking barrage of bending-and-fracturing accretions of mucky, caking layers ofimpermeableclay,

compounding into even thicker and chunkier folds between the old man and his precious flower, this mere state of shock

within this rudimentary domain of pristine veneration instinctively sparked Heisen to let go.

Let go.

As if his unkempt, overly hyped significance for Neopenta never held any significance at all.

The domino sequence of brokenbonding folds led to the Scientists detection of a discrete debility lurking within him, which

near-instantaneously distilled into a red-brown hue of a dust cloud, then reconsolidating to a flighty, bouncy, ever-so-

8/6/20

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