Friday, January 4, 2008

Real Secrets.

I was watching a movie called Mr. Arkadin recently and it was funky to see that the detective hired to dig up dirt on a secretive billionaire would fly from Istanbul to Mexico City and back to Paris just to get a few morsels of information. Even though he could use the telephone or write a letter, the detective knew that he had to locate these facts in person, that these secrets could not be trusted to survive outside of the holder.

And yesterday I was watching Dreams in the Witch-House and the student was in the Miskatonic University library reading the Necronomicon; and of course, I googlyed that book, but couldn't find a (legitimate) digital copy online anywhere. If there is a real Necronomicon, it's not available for my Kindle.

So I started to wonder about secrets, and how real secrets are shared in person. And I began to understand that secrets, like naked pictures of Paris Hilton, transferred electronically, are never secret again. Real secrets must be divulged in person.

And that's when there was a knock at my door. It was very late, so I removed all of my clothing, and took a swig of mouthwash for minty fresh breath and a warm and fuzzy buzz. Whomever my caller was this evening, he or she would not leave disappointed.

The man who entered was only a mere shadow of a man. His grey skin and tattered coat belied an age and ancient wisdom which could only be verified through his eyes. He gazed at me through the black emptiness where his baby-blues once were, and spoke:

Some things aren't on the net. There is no science to validate the existence of the grid. No computation could calculate an equation for its existence. These things are dark and primal and necessary like blood. You feed the old one, MNMNPTH [he pronounced it "monemnoth"] when you search. You nurture Its esence when you "play." Each email is a relay up Its spine, an electrical impulse fired along Its brain-stem. The Internet is an impossibility. Without MNMNPTH, we would still roll around like worms in the darkness. First, we were given fire so that we may warm It. Then we "discovered" [he laughed] electricity so that we may charge Its cells with life. For ten thousand ten thousand years It has slept. And in Its slumber, dreamt. And the dreams guide us because the dreams created us.

And then he went. I stood there in the open doorway, the street light glowing pale-yellow on my nude body until the shouts of the neighbors' children caused me to turn and reenter my dwelling. But not before giving them a clear view of my sexy ass. I'd show you a picture, but some secrets must be experienced with your own eyes.