Chapter I

A Mind is a terrible thing to, um . . . waste.

As I awoke from my slumber, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had forgotten something.  I don’t think it was anything too important, like the phone number of that girl I met a few days ago, but I feel as if I learned something, and then forgot it.  This feeling haunted me throughout the day until I got back to my room and talked with my roommate, Xavier Xerxes.  Looking up from the video game he was playing (The Adventures of Mountain Man and his Carbide Kitty), Xavier commented on my distressed look, “Hey dude, are you all right, you look like you had a tough day.  Did you forget that girl’s phone number?”  To which I responded, “No, I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m forgetting something.  Almost as if it happened in a dream and I’m supposed to remember it.”  “Well, you know Ronfar, last night I woke up to us having a conversation while we were sleeping, but I only caught the tail end of that conversation, and it was pretty weird and random,” responded Xavier.  I thought about this for a few seconds, and then knew why I felt that I had forgotten something.

It seemed to me that while I was sleeping, my roommate and I discussed something that could have been very important.  So the next night I set up my computer to record every sound that occurred during the night.  Every bump, bumble, or verbal exchange would be on file on my computer for that night.  Two months past before I remembered that I had the file with the sound recording, and I hadn’t even listened to it yet (tests in college can do that to you, remove more than the needed amount of information).  So I started up the sound playback program after rebooting 13.5 times.

When I listened to the sound, I was shocked at what I heard.  At approximately 3:15 AM, Xavier and I discussed and backed up theories involving parallel universes, the fifth dimension, and why Michael Jackson isn’t black anymore.  These discoveries needed to be sent to the Nobel Prize committee so I could get enough money to pay off my school loans.  Or even better!  I could finally buy a robot that spoke Swahili and could juggle.  Just as I was about to save the sound file to disk, a man clad in a white trench coat jumped through my window (quite a feat when you’re on the third floor), punched his fist into my computer, pulled out my hard drive and jumped back out of the freshly broken window.  As I watched him plummet to the ground I noticed that instead of landing on the ground, he landed in a large vat of green Jell-O.  I never saw that man again and now I wish I had written what I had heard on that file down, but getting the chance to see Captain Random was enough of a prize for me (although I would have liked to get the Polish solar powered flash light with the Nobel Prize money).

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