It’s been a few years, so I thought I’d write to you. How’s the Great Canadian Novel coming along? I have been typing your name into booksellers’ commercial pages but nothing comes up. I think you need to stop editing and just ship. Real artists ship. That’s what Steve Jobs said. I mean, if that’s the reason you left, you should probably get something from it. You haven’t gotten much else. Not that I blame you for moving to a remote island in the Gulf. We’re incapable of blaming, aren’t we?
In a dossier I sent out to Dokdo Compound I detail the primate act of blaming. I’ve been working there for three years now. I have become their lead primatologist. At first I didn’t think I was right for the job, but it was explained to me that the worst possible qualification for a position in Primatology at Dokdo Compound is a degree in Primatology from a primate University. In primate Universities, the word they use to describe Primatology is “Humanities”. Isn’t that funny?
EPIK treats me well. In response to your earlier question, the intialization stands for “Ethnography of Primate Interaction and Kinship”. They hire mostly primates and some nonprimate anthropoids. Then they send us on cultural expeditions together so that a few of us can write up reports on the others with regard to how they interact with each other and with Koreans. EPIK wants us to capture the experience of how primates behave in an alien culture, because this will be of great use if the reptilian folk decide to travel with primates.
The rest of the job involves interactions with Koreans. I interact with every age from grade one in the school system all the way up to post-retirement. Some employees are assigned to factory workers, business owners, military and so on. I’m assigned to educators and students.
Anyway, blame. Of course I wouldn’t bore EPIK to death with accounts of primates blaming other primates when bad things happen. There’s a file that goes back centuries. By file I am of course referring to an entire room filled with notes that have yet to be digitized. In some ways the NPAs are advanced, but in others… sigh. That’s my next project. Double sigh.
There are perhaps a hundred thousand documented cases, and a speculated 900,000 undocumented cases, of ritual malleus maleficarum slayings in Europe during the early modern period. That was when the state used writers, artists and church authorities (aka the Medieval version of ‘liberal media’) to justify the drowning, beheading, hanging, quartering and impaling of potentially guiltless individuals.
Behind the scenes, European aristocrats were feeling the pressure of the rising bourgeoisie class. Unfettered state control was flying home to heaven as private citizens shot up in caste from pitiable marketplace hawkers to landowners and decision makers. In the rush to maintain some form of authority, affluence and property ownership, aristocrats blamed Europe’s untouchables, beginning with widows and continuing to gravediggers, apothecaries and people who were just considered weird, of having sex with Satan.
This abhorrent behaviour perpetrated by the secular authorities continued from the Middle Ages until about the time of the French Revolution when, paradoxically, liberal media ended the witchcraze crisis and decided that government and the surreal ravings of palm-greased pulpit pilots make dangerous bedfellows.
I used to think that being a professional reader would be a dream job. I love reading. But I love reading about exciting things. I love stories with mystery and intrigue that begin with a bad situation and get better after the main character has an epiphany. A hundred thousand stories of how people were brutally tortured to death without any retribution, never fully understanding what they did wrong, ugh. It just depresses me. Even if they are primates, I still consider them human. I want to believe that there is a right way to do things. I want to believe that everyone has a happy ending to look forward to if they just try hard and have a good attitude. But a hundred thousand stories corrects me.
NPAs don’t believe in statistics. They record everything. Family details, community contributions, locations of travel–nothing escapes the reptilian eye. NPAs have always been there, behind the scenes, hiring people like me to watch and record reality.
I read one story about a woman who assisted the town doctor with remedies. She had a child out of wedlock with a crusader who gave her enough gold to want for nothing. When her child was only five she was accused of the then legitimate charge of Satan fornication by a young aristocrat hoping to make a name for himself. Public opinion changed from hailing her as being a miracle worker, a quasi-saint for her patients and excellent medic, to being a whore and demon-conjurer. She was struck in the rib to produce a third teet as evidence. Her child was chained next to her cell and starved to death while she oscillated from trying to sooth the slowly dying child to hysterically crying for the unempathetic gaoler to take pity. She had confessed many times to many terrible things, and still, her child would not be released. The gaoler, whose emotions had been desensitized, whose humanity had been collapsed, who was nothing more than an unfeeling robot servant of the state, blocked his ears, whipped the defenseless child and continued to torture and defile his prisoner. After the child died, the accused attempted to commit suicide by consuming her own faeces, but the attempt was unsuccessful. It just made her violently ill. Her final words before being made a public example, not of the evils of sin but the power of the state, were croaked out in a hissing whisper to an audience lusting for a repentant statement. She communicated nothing more complex than this: She was the only person on the continent who truly loved God, and His vengeance would terrible, furious, and last for centuries. After that, wise aristocrats started cutting prisoners’ tongues out.
King James, whose inkfingered scribes produced the Bible that would be the pew stock standard for centuries, was reported to be deathly afraid of these alleged Satan sex enthusiasts. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” indeed! That James VI of Scotland’s (or James I of England’s) favorite author, one William Shakespeare, envisioned himself as a sorcerer in his final play! O Fortuna! History finds primates condemning each other for much more paltry purposes and with much more brutal force than I could possibly find in a small town in Hanguk. It’s all documented in length at Dokdo Compound.
So why write on blame, you ask? In all my research in the archives in the Dokdo Compound I found very little documentation of something that occurs very frequently among primates. Primates will blame each other when something good happens. They even go so far as to blame inanimate objects for good things.
Example. A primate, on the recorded day, receives very little sensory stimuli that might alter its brain chemistry to produce R, Z or Y, which are naturally-occurring adrenal neurotransmitters in charge of motivating a mammal to change its behaviour, which is psychologically rendered as discomfort.
Said primate enters a cafe cloaked in soft, comfortable lighting, wherein a non-intrusive melody lingers in the background. It orders a milk-infused caffeinated beverage in a big brown bowl and a delicate parfait which when served peeks its creamy head above a petite crystal dish with elegant designs on its rim. The primate who serves the dish smiles, which gives off the illusion that it is friendly. No sooner does the primate take a seat than another primate with whom it appears to be affiliated with takes a seat beside it and awaits its order. The first primate is initially startled by the random encounter, but is quickly comforted and soon elated with the interaction it is having with its companion. Once the encounter is finished, it leaves the building after embracing its companion and smiles as it paces down the sidewalk.
The primate returns home and proceeds to blame its resultant happiness in a story published on a primate social network site: It was a great day. I went to this awesome cafe and ran into an old friend. Word, Jordie, I really missed you man. We gotta hang out more.
An analysis of the primate’s brain chemistry tells a different story. As a result of the limited lighting of the cafe, the primate enjoyed a mimicry of natural light, which after one thousand, nine hundred and fifty centuries of primate anthropoid evolution is a welcome break from the last half century’s introduction of overbrilliant electric lighting. The melody is quiet enough to be calming but loud enough to block out many of the ear-slicing automobile noises from outside that primates no longer notice until they’re absent. The rest of the noises were absorbed by the cement walls of the building. The light and sound reduced the rate of the primate’s heart and thus returning its circulatory system to the level it has been operating at for one thousand, nine hundred and fifty centuries. The ancient circulatory rhythm releases a neurotransmitter K, which is best defined as stasis, which, rendered in the primate psyche, is a state in which the natural fear of predators is not at the moment necessary.
The primate alters its own body chemistry by ingesting the narcotic, caffeine. Caffeine is a natural anti-depressant which, when absorbed by the primate digestive system, stimulates the release of both G and L, which are hormones that are normally released through disciplined postures and breathing techniques previously used by individuals, primate and repitilian, to enhance the brain’s ability to concentrate. At the level that primates currently stimulate the release of the hormone through narcotic use, the opposite effect often occurs, and the primate digestive system, mistaking caffeine for nutrition, becomes subject to irregular bowel movements. The parfait also gets absorbed by the primate digestive system as though it contains real sustenance, which it doesn’t. It contains refined sugars, which produce a similar effect as caffeine, namely, elation. If either or both narcotics are no longer used by the primate, their host will suffer terrible physical consequences for a short period of time, including headaches, stomachaches, paranoid delusions, depression, stress-related illness, echolalia and acne.
The visual stimuli of the crystal dish has been employed by one culture or another for most of the one thousand, nine hundred and fifty centuries that this particular primate has been evolved in this particular form. Likewise with the image of the smile. These are processed in the primate’s frontal lobe, where connections are made between visual cues and expected results from those cues, which is a process known as D, or in other words, “rationality”. D is an adaptation of the modern primate’s brain shape that has varying levels of usefulness for the purposes of its survival. The glint of inscribed crystal is reminiscent of the glint of precious metals, which are longlasting and fantastic conductors not only of electricity and heat, but more importantly of S, or as it has been previously called, aqua incendiaris, the “eternal flame”, or most recently, perpetual energy. Primates would have discovered this a long time ago, but they decided instead to use earth destroying methods to mine those precious metals to create anything from currency to glamour items, which they will kill each other to possess. A primate smile is associated in the frontal lobe with the shape that it suggests and connotes according to NPA research, unlike primate data, which often lead to the conclusion that phenotypical adaptation has bequeathed to primates a unique system of behavioural analysis. Whichever version you accept, the result of the frontal lobe’s acceptance of the authenticity of a smile displayed by another creature, primate or otherwise, is the endocrenal release of B, H and high amounts of O. B and H produce the effect of a physical state of relaxation and O sends a signal to primate’s brain to register trustworthiness.
Finally, we have the interaction with the fellow primate, which is an exchange of the pheromones T2 and T9. It began with a shock, which was a momentary obstruction to the effects of the neurotransmitter K. Then the pheromones supplied T2 and T9, which would not have diffused if the guest was unwelcome, in which case the primate’s body would have prduced R,Z and Y, thus negating the effects of the environmental controls. T2 and T9 are perhaps the most important body chemicals of all the ones previously listed, for they govern the primate’s states despite interference from other sensory stimuli. Furthermore, the content of conversation, after T2 and T9 are processed by the primate’s endocrine system (which happens in roughly one fifth of a second) stimulates connections between neurons. If the primate’s companion wished to do so, it could take advantage of the pheromonal exchange to incite completely spurious neural connections, and they often do, either out of morbid curiousity, or simply out of ignorance in a process termed L.
The final result at the end of the interaction is that rather than seeing a series of biochemical reactions, the primate blames its friend for the wonderful experience, and becomes addicted. Or it blames the coffee. Or the parfait. Or the conditions of the cafe. That’s a friend the primate will see again, coffee and ice cream it will again consume, a cafe the primate will again visit. The collision of chemicals was the perfect balance to produce what was termed by the primate as, “a great day.” The possibility of this actually happening in the primate brain is so unlikely that the primate will deliberately identify all future experiences with any of these things with the hormones, pheromones and neurotransmitters that were released, even if they are no longer released. Thus, an addiction to an imaginary or symbolic stimulus is formed, although the primate will psychologically render disappointment in the form of desire. With no real stimulus, the primate becomes frustrated and increases the need for doses of the aforementioned stimuli. Often when the primate is accustomed to a drug or neural pattern, dysfunction can occur. The primatological archives in Dokdo Compound are filled with evidence to support this, and are lacking much evidence to contradict this unique form of delusive dependency.
The combination of the aforementioned biological triggers that are activated through the registration of sensory input have a single effect. They produce one chemical in the primate’s body that it is always searching for, and has always searched for over one thousand, nine hundred and fifty centuries.
X comes when you get addicted to heroine.
X comes when you get addicted to people.
X comes when you feel good about donating to a charity.
X comes when you feel good by crying after heartbreak.
X comes when you can smell the rain before it drops.
Or maybe it doesn’t come for any of these things.
The individual primate defines X.
We want to know how to produce X.
We want to know how to trigger the release of X so that primates will take care of the planet and each other. The problem is that when one primate finds X through philanthropy and ecology, that primate becomes the person who finds X by philanthropy and ecology. The one with the most X from this activity hordes it and no other primate can benefit from it. From a reptilian perspective, this is very unusual behaviour.
But now that my telempathy is being activated, I can hear thoughts clearly in Dokdo Compound. I hear other primatologists comment that our work is useless. We will never find X. Most of the researchers at Dokdo Compound have agreed that apathy is the best route, and we ought to save ourselves. How does one compete with that? They are not wrong. Primates have wreaked havoc on the planet and their people. All in the search for X.
If our brains produced X, we speculate that we would all receive its benefit and seek to derive it from the most noble activities. Not possessing it, however, we cannot with certainty say that would be the result. One wonders if NPAs in the past have tried to hybridize the anthropoid species. I’m not funded for that research.
But Erik… you did your own experiment, didn’t you?
Am I it?
Is the experiment working?
Or is it going terribly wrong?