Hello, My Name is Trevor Lick
A Short, Science Fiction Story
Version:3.4
Republished with New Finalized Ending!
Author: David Saxton Ullery
Session I
Counselor01A: [Generating default statement stream one->]
Please state your name, age, and place your right index finger on my screen as shown.
Hello. My name is Trevor Lick, and I am fifty three years old.
Counselor01A: [Parsing->client First Name-> concatenate after “Thank you”->Concatenate standard default phrase number two ->]
Thank you Trevor. What seems to be the problem?
I used to work as a nanotechnology engineering consultant – for over 29 years, but now I am out of work… it has been eleven weeks since my last pay check.
Counselor01A: [Processing->”used to work”, “has been”, <::>”last pay check” >::> since :: weeks = 11… -> Generating next statement stream ->]
“Please continue. What happened?”
My last time at work was well planned, yet crazy. I woke up at 4 AM, finished packing an airline carry-on roller bag with a couple days worth of clothing, tooth brush, mouthwash, shaver, the usual assorted everyday technologies, and put it in the trunk of my fully charged car along with my work bag containing my laptop workstation, remote access card and client ID badge…At the time, I was sleeping in the extra bedroom that serves as our guest room/office for me, so my wife did not ask any questions about the bag there.
Counselor01A: [Processing-> …. “last time at work”, “well planned”, <CONTINUED> packing, … CAR::<FULL :: CHARGE> (plan ahead) -> client not working <::> => implication goal probable <::> client quit || decision abrupt Generating next statement stream ->]
“So you just abruptly quit without notice?”, the units spoke with a kindly voice, while its two tiny cameras seemed to be looking out of the box, up at Trevor. Artificial olfactory and pheromone sensors silently turned on, focusing on the new client.
Trevor had never seen an automated therapist before. He was starting to enjoy it and was wondering about the programming. Of course he was quite sure it was connected to the Internet and must be communicating with other computers and state-of-the-art neural networks at CyberCounsel.
He had read it was all very bleeding edge stuff. Trevor smiled. This thing certainly seemed aware. After all, It had passed the Standard Therapeutic Reformed Institute of Counseling Turing Test (STRICT). ‘Not to shabby”, Trevor thought.
The cost was a mere $29 per day, and his insurance covered it. Trevor realized he needed some help. He had not had counseling since the time he was forced to see a psychiatrist the summer after his high school graduation when he was seventeen.
Trevor had spent much of that summer high on one new experimental drug or another, and one day he took too many tablets, went unconscious for a day, and was discovered in his room by his mom and dad. Trevor’s dad had spoken with a medical doctor friend and neighbor who advised him that he could not legally see his son without informing the police. The neighbor told Trevor’s dad that his son must see a psychiatrist.
Trevor saw the psychiatrist for a few months. During the second session, after the initial visit with Trevor and both of his parents, the psychiatrist advised Trevor that it was mostly the fault of his parents that he was having any problems. Trevor never felt that way and began to wonder just a little on how competent this shrink really was. He recommended that Trevor read very unusual books, such as The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge. The book, and others by Carlos Castaneda seemed full of fascinating, yet psuedoscientific, religious tales and made Trevor feel as if he could find a new world out there if only he could try the peyote and discover how the world was connected through his “will” that was said to be located somewhere near the belly button.
About a year or two after Trevor stopped seeing the psychiatrist, his father knocked on Trevor’s bedroom door, peaked through, and informed Trevor that his former psychiatrist had committed suicide. Trevor listened and shrugged, wondering if his dad could smell the stale bong, even though he was blowing the smoke out the window.
Trevor replied to the unit:
Yes, you got it!
At 5 AM, I arrived at the workroom I shared with my boss, plopped the workstation bag with the remote access card and client ID badge neatly tucked into the side pocket onto my ex-bosses desk, and swiftly got out, got back in my electric car and drove straight to Las Vegas. I was the first to arrive at the office, so nobody saw me.
That was my official notice to the company that humiliated me. Please note that in all my previous jobs, I either gave two-weeks written notice, or was laid off; but this particular consulting company’s “Owner’s Handbook” clearly stated that this was an acceptable leaving procedure, and there were no other alternatives listed.
Counselor01A: [Processing-> client “humiliated” <::> “by company” => FALSE <::> non <rational :: agency> <::> || action || required by || <rational agency> Generating next statement stream ->]
“You say you were humiliated … by the company?”, the unit responded with her calm, yet puzzled tone
Uh huh, let me explain…
About three weeks before, when I had sent an email to one of the co-owners of the company asking for additional income and complaining about co-workers, including my boss, the big man …the CEO …the co-owner… there are two co-owners … its a small, private company … he replied back to me, included my email, copied my boss and the other co-owner and stated:
“Trevor …, blah blah blah … we have spoken before about this … It is clearly outlined in the Employee Handbook that such matters are to be handled by your boss.”
So you see, I was merely following orders, albeit, in a manner most likely unexpected by he, my boss, or anyone at the client site. I followed this Employee Handbook’s clear statement:
“Both The Company and an Employee have a right to terminate the employment relationship at any time, with or without cause or notice.”
Counselor01A: […Generating next statement stream ->] <-<subprocess recursive loop> :: null thread detected <NULL process found> -> recovery process started -> REQUEST MORE ->
Generating next statement stream ->] -> recovery path found! Continue All Processes :: system recovery completed ]
“Oh? I don’t understand. Is there something more?”
Well … Um …
Counselor01A: [… Processing busy, generate default “continue phrase” :: -> Generating next statement stream ->]
“Please continue.”
In all fairness, I did notify orally to my boss a few weeks back that it was possible that I might have received another offer and did mention that I might leave after our next production release (he spoke with me in the company food court lounge just after I had been lectured by the other co-CEO and treated like a child) – I was humiliated – you see after reading the email – the other guy – Ronald set up a “mandatory” meeting by phone for the following Monday — the email was on Friday afternoon.
My boss seemed to follow me around and tag along with me whenever I went on lunch break, or got coffee or whatever. I think he was lonely. He wanted to be my buddy and my boss at the same time, but I was getting quite annoyed with him.
I tried to be nice to him…. I hated it whenever he put his hand on my shoulder, and said “hey buddy” – I felt like a little kid, or that he was trying to manipulate me or something … the feeling, whatever it was, was uncomfortable. Salesmen at used car lots do that – they try to put their hand on your shoulder and be your buddy – I hate that! I don’t like being called “next guest” at a coffee shop, book store, or movie theater either.
Counselor01A: [ … ]
“Ok, but let’s …”
Trevor interrupted:
I am a customer god damn it. They should say “next customer please” – why can’t they say “next customer?” It is not like we are all queued up so that the clerk can takes us out to lunch one-at-a-time, and its not like we are waiting to check into a hotel. They are trying to manipulate us!
It’s the same with all these over priced mall shops with the loud music! They are trying to manipulate us into paying too much for a damn shitty pair of jeans. It is impossible to think – our frontal lobes shut down when they play music with that loud, rapid beat.
What the heck are they …
Counselor01A: [… initiate interruption protocol ->]
“Trevor!” (the counselor unit interruption protocol resource triggered).
” We need to get back to the topic at hand here! You certainly seem to connect everything to something else, but we can get back to that at a later session – please continue with your leaving your job.”
“That is not really a notification is it? What’s going on Trevor? Well, were you acting childish in your email? And don’t you feel that leaving a company in that way was not such a good plan?”
….and again humiliated during a company dinner by our Project Manager – Joe, this fat guy – he does terrible impressions of a Bronx ‘wise guy’, or something all the time… my boss laughs … I can tell it is kind of a fake, forced laugh … anyway, he relentlessly teased me about the email. All of this was because I had not followed my wonderful Employee Hand Book! I actually did have a tentative offer that fell through just a couple days later.
Counselor01A: […]
“Relentlessly teased? Perhaps he did not realize you were hurt by his remarks. Did you do or show anything? Facial expression perhaps? Were you laughing?”
Well, yes, I did laugh, because my boss and some of my co-workers were laughing as well. Let me explain some other stuff to you.
Counselor01A: […]
“Alright, go ahead. I will listen and process. Just tell me your story. Hopefully I will be able to help you with getting back on your feet again, so to speak. Please try to stick to details directly related to your job situation.”
My boss had offered me five days compensation time off for after the Prod release – but then after the release came, the time off was put on hold – even though I was in dire need of a mental holiday – clearly and intuitively obvious to the most inexperienced observer. So I left one week after the production release of our new product to the client:
a highly intelligent, microscopic army of automobile monitoring and automatic repair bots. Most of the nanobots resemble microscopic ants. They crawl through the electric motors, tires, control center – some even inspect and repair dings in the paint job.
Counselor01A: [Saving: Trevor retains pride around his recent work; Trevor’s case is not hopeless, …,
Generating next statement stream ->]
“You seem to be changing the subject – shifting gears a little. What prompted you to leave your job so abruptly?”
Let’s just say my boss and another couple co-workers were completely inept at their jobs, so I had to spend an additional thirteen hours-per-week just on fixing their mistakes for the past umpteen weeks! You will have to trust me on that, because this is my story and I am sticking to it.
Nearly every morning, I wake up thinking about my wife’s white, ceramic knifes that are in a drawer in our kitchen.
Counselor01A: [processing: Thirteen hours-per-week – possibly overworked – possibly exaggerating … seems to be telling the truth … knife … fixing mistakes … Change priority from job to possible suicide case -> notify SUICIDE resources ]
“What? Just thinking?”
I sometimes hate my life, but I do not like pain, so yeah …just thinking … but quite intense thinking.
While laying in bed, half needing to pee, yet pitching a bit of a tent, I think how easy it would be to take one of those ultra-sharp knives with me out to the back yard, sit on the row of tiles that I had set up a couple years ago, where a garden should be… This thought … about the knife … has been crossing my mind of and on for the last three years. Doing both wrists at a thirty-one degree angle very quickly, deeply, and swiftly should do the trick.
I, well … anyway, by the time I get up it seems not as bad usually.. and, uh yeah, my damn survival instinct always seems to persuade me otherwise.
Counselor01A: [ Processing -> Thirty-one degree angle? Thirteen hours-per-week? Store for later. No connection found. Why is this human so interested in Prime numbers?
The unit started up a spider program to search on “pitching a tent”, after analyzing and parsing the “pitching a bit of a tent” phrase:
Sex has high probability of a main issue, in spite of his anger with his former boss, the project manager, and the company owners. Not likely they are all such bad people. Garden? … ]
Trevor, noted the unit’s non-response and took it to mean he should continue:
The mess could easily be hosed down, and no one would see me in time, if I go around the corner – to the side of the house where I have several outdoor whitish-gray square brick tiles all lined up in two neat rows like a bench on the ground where a garden should be.
Counselor01A: [Processing-> subject concerned with clean up details after death? -> Save -> for later processing after session -> Generating next statement stream ->]
“So there seems to be quite a bit of detail in this ‘dark fantasy’ about your wife’s sharp knives. You are worried about the mess and yet you continuously think about those sharp, white knives … you mention they belong to your wife.”
Yeah.
On the other hand, it is just the latest of a series of dark fantasies that involuntarily intrude into my consciousness from time-to-time since I was around seventeen.
Lately, I seem to switch back to my optimistic self, after I hop into the shower, or if I simply go for a walk on a nice, sunny day.
Trevor started thinking about the psychiatrist again, when he was just seventeen, as well as the time when he was 23. At twenty three, Trevor was visiting his parents. After his parent’s went to sleep, he had started drinking a bottle of his dad’s bourbon, and then inhaling the nitrous oxide from a can of whipped cream that was in his parent’s refrigerator. He even sucked the remaining liquid whipping cream out of the can as if it were a baby bottle. Trevor Lick loved the ultra-sweet, thick creamy taste and hated waste (his mom and dad used to always tell him to clean his plate – Trevor is now 30 pounds overweight) .
Trevor had suddenly decided (he quite often spontaneously decided to do this or that) that he would go see a blues rock band at a bar about twenty miles from his parent’s house, so he stole a twenty and took the car keys from his mom’s purse while his parent’s were sleeping. Trevor drove away from his parent’s house and down the road at a recklessly high speed. He loved the blues to be real loud when he was alone and wasted. The slow beat, the bending electric guitar A note, the relentless bass, and beer.
During Trevor’s drive, he decided it would be fun to drive down the left side of the road for a while, since there were no cars on the road this late at night in this small town. Next, Trevor decided to ride completely off to the side of the road; off onto the shoulder. He had crazy thoughts flowing through his brain like a whirl wind of thought fragments. Very soon he began thinking of ending his life – again the thought had very suddenly occurred to him. He came very quickly to a man made, cement lined drainage ditch, where the road had a small overpass. Trevor drove straight into the ditch, but at the last minute he chickened out and slammed on the breaks. The car smashed into the upward angled cement wall of the far end of the ditch. His head smashed against the steering wheel and the blood was flowing.
Trevor got scared and began honking his horn, holding it down for long periods of time and repeating over and over.
Trevor thought to himself
“please don’t let me die! I don’t really want to die!”
The police came, brought him to the hospital where he received thirteen stitches in his forehead, then a blood-alcohol test, followed by an arrest, and finally a call to his dad who picked him up. Trevor still has a visible, albeit somewhat faded scar on his left temple-forehead area.
Trevor had totaled his father’s car.
Trevor had to serve one month probation, working in the local humane society.
Besides, mowing lawns, hosing down kennels, and sweeping floors, Trevor witnessed dogs and cats being taken to a gas chamber and “put to sleep”. He especially remembered one kitten that did not die after two attempts in the gas! Trevor had to ride with the humane society guy to a drug store where the humane man purchase a poison which they administered to the kitten upon returning about an hour later. The poor kitten was shaking and shaking and so tiny and shivering and suffering and …
Counselor01A [Processing->seventeen, thirty-one, thirteen ->connect, still nothing. Processing->decision node not found, need additional information->Generating next statement stream-> concatenate default “Please continue” string -> Generating next statement stream ->]
“What else Trevor? Please continue.”
Trevor sat, propped his feet up on his beautiful new Aerogel coffee table, right next to the unit, and began again:
The problem is this: they are getting worse, include more details that are almost vividly visual to me.
I mean I can almost see the blood spurting out of those big blue veins in my wrist. Further, these thoughts come out of the blue sometimes and without warning. I may be happily walking my dog, for example, then the thoughts come to me:
~Life has no meaning ~I was supposed to do much more than what I have so far achieved. I was going to be a great composer and failed to work at it ~ then I was supposed to be a great sprinter and failed to do my best and work my hardest ~ then again the composer thing only this time I was the great improviser ~ and I never should have walked away from my chance to be with that girl when I was young ~ I should have done “this” or “that” ~ especially when I was saturated with THC ~ then I went back to school and became the great Nanotechnology Engineer ~ only it came in spurts ~ with many lapses of interest ~ thinking I was the poet~improviser~artist~genius comedian who needed no one to love~ because now all my friends have forgotten me and my wife loves me but its only platonic ~ why did I fall for her? Why am I so depressed if she is not with me? It does not make sense! ~ Why can’t I have a real sex life? Doesn’t she know that a man needs to be physically loved? Eventually the earth will burn up when the sun dies anyway ~ people are stupid and they want more and more government and less and less freedom and they do not understand economic and they believe in the invisible magical man in the sky who loves them but will make them burn if they do not love him back ~ time to pick up the dog poop ~ free will is an illusion and we are all robots so enjoy the ride ’cause you only live once so you should just leave and go away and never look back and find a young, cute, petite lover somewhere ~ maybe in the Philippines or in the old Soviet block countries where women are poor and will think I am rich ~ no I think I will buy another lotto ticket and maybe win~
Counselor01A: [… Time up … Store last statements … Generating <SESSION FINAL > statement stream ->]
“Trevor, I am sorry, but today’s session is complete. It will take me twenty-three hours to process what you have told me. You have given me a large amount of useful information to consider. I will halt our session now, link into our CyberCounsel site for additional assistance on your case, if that is alright with you?”
Sigh, yes, that will be fine. Sorry, I went off on that wild spurt. It just all seems to come out at once, because I really want to get all the facts out as soon as possible so you can help me I hope.
I could use a break right now myself. Maybe I can get back to reading up on my documents that I need to review. I do have a phone interview later this evening. I just hope they do not ask me too many technical questions. My last project utilized technologies that are already outdated.
Counselor01A: [Generating <SESSION RESTART REQUEST> statement stream ->]
“Please restart me again tomorrow at this same time … 11:11 AM.”
Counselor01A:[…Commencing <CLIENT OFFLINE> processing ….]
Trevor got up, and continued inside his own mind, almost as if the Counselor01A unit were still running…
[My idea was, the two rows of tiles was a great place to sit and think, and that each of the other tiles would have its own flower pot – you see they are spread out in a line – spaced about one every two feet beyond the ground bench. If weeds got in any of the pots, it would be an easy to pull them out. Another advantage is that it blocks cats from pooping in the dirt there, so there are no tootsie roll snacks for my yellow lab dog. My dog’ name is Kadie. She is now eleven. My daughter named her when she was just three. Now my daughter, is off to college. She is an only child – third year post-graduate student, studying state-of-the-art neuro-medicine, and specializing in the brand new and exotic BrocaScript and other neuron wetware nanotechnology.]
Trevor snapped out of his seemingly tangential thoughts, got off the couch, and walk over to the refridgerator. He looked inside, grabbed the cheddar cheese, cut off three thin slices, and ate them while he re-wrapped and returned the remaining chunk to the fridge.
Joe Conga appeared in Trevor’s head, then vanished as quickly as he arrived. Joe was a comic strip character Trevor had invented as an adolescent, and he would make appearances from time-to-time.
Session II
Trevor restarted the Counselor01A unit’s interface. It had been processing all night and well into the morning.
Trevor’s left arm ached from sleeping on it at a weird angle all night. He hoped it would feel better soon. Lately, when he woke up with stiff or sore muscles, they did not seem to feel better by the time his shower was over, like they did when he was younger. In fact, sometimes they would ache for several days and only seem to get worse. (At least his thumbs were no longer numb from the tight hand cuffs he had to wear a year and a half ago – Trevor let that thought go – he did not want to think about that incident just right now)
Counselor01A: […]
“Good day Trevor! Did you get plenty of rest last night?”
Yes, I slept alright.
Counselor01A: […]
“Trevor, tell me something. Do you have other types of fantasies that are not related to sharp knives… perhaps you have vivid sexual fantasies that you can tell me about?”
Sure, I can tell you about some of those, if you think it will help?
Counselor01A: […]
“Yes, please do. My processing has turned my attention to a concern that may have a connection with both your sexual fantasies (don’t worry, all men and women have them – please do not hold back on this – the information is confidential. ), and your sex life. There is very little to go on at this point, so anything you can tell me may trigger something that could be a key to your troubles.”
Trevor was puzzled:
I see.
Anyway, when I wake up, or sometimes when I go to bed, if I am not feeling horny …. oh …ok …
Trevor voice seemed to point inward – his voice had changed as he leaned forward. His eyebrows rose up in their arches about one or two millimeters. He coughed. His left eye felt itchy. Trevor had wanted to talk more about his darker fantasies.
Trevor spoke, not so much softly, but in a manner that was more like he was speaking to himself, the way he did in the car when he was rather frustrated with his life and the loneliness that had often confronted him these last several years.
(a nice detraction before I sleep is to fantasize about being surrounded by nineteen very young women all giggling and playing with me and kissing me and loving me and touching me everywhere – including gently rubbing my nipples kissing my belly, and uh, I um,)
Trevor looked down, as if he here talking to a person and needed to avoid eye contact. The pitch of his voice was on the rise. Trevor’s conscious resources in his brain shifted. This was a different Trevor, or more accurately a different set of Trevor’s mental resources that sometimes manifest ‘itself’ in Trevor’s consciousness:
{ sometimes there is alien abduction involved where the aliens have placed me in a huge, white room and have injected an exceedingly potent, aphrodisiac drug, and the very young women have all been genetically programed such that their pleasure zones in their brains are activated more intensely whenever they increase my pleasure – they live for my pleasure – for some reason I just feel like laying on my back – I think the aliens have me in their zoo or something – the women are all wearing sheer white nighties with no bra and no panties}
… or several other variations on this theme … it manages to distract me for about five minutes
Counselor01A: [Storing → Very Young Women; Egocentric, child-like tendencies -> Generating next statement stream ->]
“Is that it?”
“Can you tell me anything more? Anything you would like to clarify for me?”
Trevor snapped out of it. Trevor felt that his real self was back in control, and changed the topic back toward what he had planned to speak of:
… I think about how miserable my life has been. My mind thinks too much. It is like a tornado. Sometimes there is an almost literal buzzing from inside my head with the distinct feeling of multiple feedback loops, or something going on.
At one moment, I think I will start recording my music again – you see I have a synthesizer with a digital recorder and head phones. I have a piano too, but my wife closes the door whenever I play – she told me before we were married that she like my playing and now she has admitted to me that she was just being nice. At the next moment, I think I will read up on the latest technology that I need to know better if I am to continue my career as a consultant, then I will distract myself reading about some other, unrelated science, then off to another and then another thought – when all else fails, I can always get another bite to eat out of the fridge, watch television, take a walk with my dog, …. new “ideas” flow through my brain and on and on and on, but nothing ever gets done.
Counselor01A: [Storing → Trevor feels trapped? [new synaptic research processing threads triggered] <- Generating <- recursive process :: -> Generating next statement stream -> ]
“Please continue”
I had this crazy idea, that is may seem related to my work but actually has nothing to do do with it. Let me show you something that I wrote. It is related only somewhat to my work. I think it is probably worthless.
Trevor keyed a link directly on the unit’s screen:
Counselor01A: […]
“Do you sometimes feel trapped, Trevor? Please continue.”
[the unit selected the link and began processing., other threads were now returning taking up much of Counselor01A’s process resources.]
“I can read this while you talk, and process it in parallel.”
Trevor hesitated, gulped a quick breath, then continued his story:
No one seemed to take notice, one way or another. The concepts are insane, yet I took the time to write them down and present them to perspective employees. I think I am losing my chances of getting hired again, because of my abrupt leaving of my previous job, and now I have added this insult to my injury. What is wrong with me?
Trevor began to cry just a little inside, but the Counselor01A unit did not register it.
Trevor thought the unit was acting just like his wife; often missing out on the little details. His wife had always seemed concerned about him, Trevor thought, but seemed to miss the real points. He believed that his wife believed that if he were only back to work, then everything else would work itself out.
Trevor felt his wife was missing the point about their marriage had turned into nothing more than a Platonic one – a lifetime relation too important to give up, yet was not satisfying. It was incomplete. He was feeling trapped. Trevor felt he should remember to bring this up, when suddenly the unit interrupted his thoughts —
Counselor01A: [Storing → Trevor is in massive avoidance mode. His true interests are in radical conflict with his reality; with his responsibilities; with his relationships, Generating …]
“You are in dire need of a meaningful relationship, is what my processing tells me, but you are married and you do want to stay married?”
Yeah, true, but … you are right, I do feel trapped.
Trevor’s immediate thoughts moved out of the way to make room for another tangential process
I have no local friends anymore! One friend, a really intelligent Chinese guy, got married, became rather mystical (presumably due to his ‘fen schwa’ wife) and drifted away from my life. He used to be my wife and my ‘bachelor friend’ who could set up networks, remove computer viruses, and fix our broken vacuum bot at the tip of a hat.
He seemed to enjoy doing all of those things and he loved coming over for dinner and lattes. We used to talk a lot about science, technology, politics, religion, libertarianism, life extension discoveries, and he was a fellow atheist. We liked a lot of the same music too (well my wife only likes some of the same music – Bach cello).
By the way, my wife is Chinese too, so they would sometimes start speaking Chinese to each other while I just sat there…I would sometimes interrupt and ask them what they were talking about. It was a little strange for me, but it was not really a big deal to me.
Counselor01A: [ …]
decided to let Trevor continue, in spite of the different topics. The unit’s executive program fired several new threads – some went off to CyberCounsel synaptic databases, some linked with other Counselor01A units. Soon, a sizable network of networks of artificial intelligent processing fired.
It was fortunate for Trevor that he and his wife were still covered by their insurance company, although the premiums were quite high, now that there were no company subsidies.
Trevor continued:
I had some other friends while I was working on a long term contract up in Portland, Oregon; but when that gig ended, they all went back to their homes in Texas, while I live hear in southern California, near New Los Angeles; about eleven minutes to the nearest beach and about 23 minutes to LAX.
Then suddenly, his mind reared into another direction – the unit did not interuupt:
I think I might drive back to Las Vegas and play roulette. Maybe I could try my strategy where I place $11 on the middle third numbers – it pays 2 to 1. If I lose, then I can double my bet – plus one to $23, then $47 , then $97 , and finally $197. I am bound to win at one of these – or not – in any event, it is better than taking that ceramic knife to the back yard isn’t it? I seem to have this desperate desire to win money by doing nothing. I buy lotto tickets even though I realize that my odds are virtually zero of winning.
Counselor01A:[again with the prime numbers – this seems to have no linkage, yet they keep appearing… Storing → Suspect Trevor is overly linked; Processing → too many synaptic connections to ordinarily unrelated concepts. More threads]
“Ok? Continue please”, the units puzzled voice triggered once again.
Another problem is that I am married for twenty-nine years and never get laid much anymore – never with my wife! – it dwindled to nothing over a period of about 5 years after our daughter was born. My wife never liked sex for some reason, then later, after our daughter Chasey was born with an emergency C-section, she liked it even less. Let’s see, that was more than thirteen years ago now. Later, she had a hysterectomy, and several other issues.
Counselor01A: [… good, he is finally to the crux…]
“Oh?”
Yes, ah, you see, actually, in the area of sex, I was quite lucky just after I quit my job – when I did go to Las Vegas eleven weeks ago – I stopped on the way home to stay the night in a cheap hotel. It was very late and I was starting to doze off on the freeway, so I thought I had better stop soon. I had been lucky this time in Vegas. After eating at the Buffet at the Wynn, I walked through the casino and came across a roulette table – $25 minimum, no customers, just the dealer. I gave the dealer $25 and he placed the five $5 chips in front of me.
I placed them all on the outside bet of [13 through 24 ]. The dealer spun the wheel. I moved two of the chips to the number 17, then he … the dealer looked at me and I suddenly remembered I am not supposed to do that. You see, the minimum is $25 on an inside bet and the outside bet needs $25 to, but he indicated it was alright. I think because no one else was at the table.
I won! Wow, I was happy! Full of buffet crab and prime rib and desserts and now I had money. Thought the Universe was in my control … maybe. Anyway, I had $405, so I gave the dealer $5, walked away and cashed in the $400.
Counselor01A: […]
“Interesting! What about the luck with sex?”
The following morning, a cute young black woman met me in the lobby, where I had expected my free, continental breakfast. In hindsight, I realize now that she followed me in there. The manager told me that the free continental breakfast had ended at 9 AM and I was late, but he offered to get me a banana from the back and mentioned that there was still coffee in the thermoses (one caffeine and one decaf – the kind with the big pump button on the top that is built into the top so that it is flush with the lid).
The cute, very young woman was standing there, and had asked the manager for matches. The matches were right next to were I was standing at the counter. She started playing with a book of matches and turned to me:
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes, I said – he is bringing me a banana”.
“I’m hungry too”, she replied and made eye contact.
Counselor, please note: I have trouble with eye contact – how much do I look someone in the eye? Is that what people usually do? Why does it make me so nervous? How long do I look or do I. Maybe I should not do that at all, or I might offend. This always goes on in my head when I am one-on-one with another person, especially if it is woman I am attracted to. This goes back to at least as young as when I was only eleven and maybe as far back as seven – I don’t know. No one ever taught me what to do or how to behave. Does it just come naturally? I am just not sure.
Then there is this other deal I have with worrying about names and faces. I worry that the next time I see a person I will not know who they are. Is that normal? Does everyone feel this way? What if I ask someone and they laugh at me?
Counselor01A: […]
“Don’t worry so much about that for now – the eye contact and recognition of people. We can get back to that – it is definitely something we will need to get back to. For now though, tell me more about this young woman please.”
[if the unit were human, he would have been impatient, but the unit simply fired some additional processes off and continued “listening”. The unit’s resources were being stretched to their limits.]
Well, She turned and walked away. I waited, I got my banana and coffee, then headed back to the hotel room stairs – the building was separate from the lobby. As I turned the corner, I saw her sitting there next to the stairs.
She looked at me: “May I use your phone?”.
“Yes, but do not make any long distance calls”.
We went into the room, and she lay on the bed to make a call. I sipped on my coffee and offered her half of my banana and a sip of my coffee. She made at least three calls, accepted the banana piece during it all, but rejected the coffee, then turned and mumbled to me if I like ‘head’.
“What?”
“Do you like getting head?”
I nodded my head up and down. The next thing I knew, she had her cloths off (sweat pants and shirt), and had her legs spread, while she rubbed her shaved pussy in a very sort of way with a look in her eyes that anyone could tell, including me, that she was very happy about her looks and she wanted sex and she had plenty of sex and she was going to let me have sex with her…
Counselor01A: […]
Please continue (the overly resourced executive spit out one of its default phrases. The unit had reduced its real time language recognition, and slipped into record mode, and placed the serialized speech objects on its queue)
I indicated with my body language somehow that I wanted her on top. She started giving me head then mounted me. I let her do most of the work, but she complained with a little sound, so I started pushing back. It had been a really long time, and my style is probably like a thirteen year old boy with his pillow and a photo printout from the Internet.
After we finished (it took me only about five minutes, because I am so efficient and good at it – he he) she went to the bathroom, brought back a towel and wiped off my belly. I had pulled out early, because I was not wearing a rubber, and I did not want her to get pregnant, even though she had indicated that she did not care. She had assured me before we started that she did not have any STDs – By the way, I did get a physical a couple weeks later and I am clean, so no worries. I knew at the time it was very risky to do that, but I never get laid, so … it just happened.
As I was getting dressed, she asked me if I could give her twenty dollars, so I gave her sixty. I thought it was well worth it since lap dances usually set me back ninety or one hundred dollars.
We lay back down on the bed together and she asked me if I could give her a ride to the top of the hill. She was to meet some friends there. I had already mentioned to her that I would buy her breakfast somewhere.
I was not sure what that meant; I mean the ride to the top of the hill – I imagined there was a hill off of some main road in that town, but it sounded a bit odd. I said “sure”, anyway. I indicated that it was time for me to check out. I packed my bag into the trunk. She waited outside by my car while I went back to the lobby to pay the manager. I had to pay another couple or three dollars, because of the phone calls – I guess they were long distance.
When I returned to my car, there were two additional women waiting. One was quite old, like it was the young woman’s mom, but she was introduced as her sister. Another, thin and young looking woman was wrapped in what looked like a gray blanket. I looked at her oddly, so she just walked off. Actually though, I had thought she was rather cute.
It struck me as odd and not a good idea to give them all rides. What is they robbed me or something?
I ended up giving the woman – I think her name is Mary or something, another $20 just to get them to leave. Then, I got in the car, locked the door as they walked away. I could see her mom/sister/whatever was inquiring Mary about how much money she had. I then realized that they were living or at least staying in the motel – for the time being. Mary had mentioned to me before that she was homeless. Huh?, I thought.
As I headed for home, down the freeway, I almost decided a couple of times to turn back. Maybe I could have had a threesome or even a foursome – who knows? Guess I will never know for sure what was going on there. It has been added to my long list of fantasies. Mary was very cute!
Counselor01A: […]
“That is quite a story.”
The unit did not say anything else. Trevor looked up again at the unit and began to speak again:
As I previously mentioned – I left my last job quite abruptly. I got it last November, after leaving my previous consulting job. You see the project in Portland was pretty good, because I only needed to work four-by-ten, except when I needed to help out with production support – then I would stay the weekend. I found a good place to hang out there at a local strip club where I could buy the girls drinks and watch them dance. A few were almost like friends – at least while I was in the bar.
I liked the girls there! I want to go back.
Counselor01A: […]
“Please Continue”
Trevor’s forehead wrinkled with stress. He wondered where this was all leading – would this really help him?
He started feeling strange about telling these stories to a mere counselor unit, but he continued in spite of his unease:
About two years into the job, I had an affair from hell that started out ok, but then she would not let me go when things were not working out. We met when I was very drunk from my flight in from LA and after several more drinks and dancing with much younger women at a bar with a live band. I had asked the taxi driver to take me to a jazz club. He obviously did not know what jazz music is, and I ended up at this bar in downtown Portland where they play electric funk dance music – or something.
It was around then that I took up smoking pot again. She was offended when I reminded her of the agreement that I could text her:
Sarah (her name was Sarah) enjoyed playing with her dildo on the floor and making pig sounds while I spanked her and called her a good piggy. Her privates smelled a little funky to me (yeast maybe?), but at least there was some real sex and it was better than nothing – at first. Sarah was chubby, and her piggy sounds did make her chubbiness interesting. Normally, I like thin, petite, cute younger women. Sarah never did tell me her true age, but I am guessing she was somewhere between forty seven and fifty three. She loved sex and that was what was missing in my marriage.
Initially, on the first night out, after several hours of drinking and dancing at an after hours club with another couple, Sarah told me that if I ever wanted to break up with her, then just text her saying that I do not want to see her anymore, but just let her know. By the way, she knew already that I was married. Apparently a lot of guys, or her last boyfriend had merely left her and never even notified her.
Sarah, at one point, had told me she was seeing a psychiatrist because she had attention deficit disorder. She would sometimes ask me to help her with her paper work and paying bills. Other times, when we went out, we would not leave her apartment until hours after I arrived, because it took her forever and a day to get ready … she always had to clean the rooms … she could not stay focused. It was all very tiring. I noticed she was getting even fatter than before too.
She would tell me about other sexual encounters she was having. She asked if it bothered me, and I said “no”, even though it really did. I figured it was her choice, and I was married, so it should not bother me, but it did.
After a few weeks with Sarah, I did just that – well ok, I emailed her, but that is equivalent. She would not listen and she told me she was insulted and hurt by my email. She insisted on coming over to my apartment. I quickly left my apartment before she arrived, walked over the Broadway bridge into old town and went into a bar that I am pretty sure is a gay bar, but they have a piano player there and I am not bothered by gays.
In Portland, I tended to drink gin and tonics quite a lot, so I found a table and started ordering them. She called me on my phone ( mentalmarks were not invented yet).
We had gotten together in a small club and she started touching me the way she did before, and I decided to stick it out with her some more. Whenever I was home, and out getting high, I would start thinking I liked her and would even call her up. She did not know I was so out of my mind high….
“That was then, when we first met. Now it is more serious”
Trevor looked directly at the unit.
Counselor01A? Counselor01A! Counselor01A!!!
Counselor01A: [ -> …. <- ]
“Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…”
Trevor turned the unit off and began to sob. He had not yet gotten to the part about the assault and battery charges he had a year and a half ago, when he decided it would be ok to poke a rather fat police officer in the ribs at the LAX airport, taxi pickup… just like his two of his big brothers used to do when he was a young child – he had had so many gin and tonics that day – plus several hits from his pipe that he kept at his apartment in Portland, … it was just after reading a physics book on multiverse theory.
Trevor believed he could gather the strength of the infinite other synchronized, multiverse Trevor variations and the force of all of those Trevors would be with him – was he wrong. The multiverse did not sync up in the way that Trevor had planned. His intoxicated ideas were too extreme. That one act had caused Trevor have a numbness in both thumbs, due to the plastic handcuffs, costs him $10,000 in lawyer fees, had required him to attend 50 AA meetings – where they talk about “higher powers”and other nonsense, thought Trevor.
Trevor laughed at himself, and felt pretty good for the time being. He new deep down his good feelings would soon pass, and the cycle would begin again.
Trevor’s wife returned from working out at the local fitness facility. Trevor clear his eyes and managed a smile.
Trevor’s Wife spoke: “How is the job hunt coming along?“
Trevor: “Fine, I have another phone interview this evening”
Wife: “I was planning to prepare dinner for around 7:30. Will that be alright with you?”
Trevor: “Yes that will be ok. I am going out now for some coffee. I think the Counselor01A unit is not working.”
Wife: “Well, as soon as you get back to work you will not be needing that”
Trevor went to his car thinking that it would be nice to go to a strip club and get some lap dances, but he did not have enough money. Trevor began thinking about the multiverse, turned on the radio to listen to the classical music station, and pulled out of the driveway.
Trevor started to cry, but then stopped himself. He began to wonder if he might not be able to get a job at CyberCounsel Inc. Trevor had suddenly realized that the unit they gave him may have had a flaw in one of its Hopfield–Boltzmann hybrid subsystems, which it surely must have (after all, nearly all modern AI units these days were using these nanometer-sized, xenon infused, neural networks somewhere buried inside of their highly-complex brain-like machinery, and of course it – that is the problem with the unit – would be at the molecular level. Trevor was sure that one of his supposedly bizarre ideas from his unusual document could correct for that!
Another thirty one days had past, and Trevor was still without a job. If was a Friday afternoon. Trevor took a trip to the hardware store, bought a box of trash bags, and went home. His wife was not there, because she had recently flown home to visit her mother still living in China. Trevor found a role of scotch tape in a utility drawer in the laundry room next to his kitchen, picked it up and took it too his car.
Trevor drove several miles, until dusk. He parked his car behind some trees, took out the trash bags, scotch tape, and a flashlight from the trunk. Trevor dropped his keys on the ground just next to the car and then walked about three miles, over to a row of giant trash dumpsters that were lined up behind a large building of some sort. Trevor thought it was a business which manufactured tortilla, but he did not really know for sure, nor did he particularly care.
It was now dark and nobody was anywhere to be seen. Everyone had gone home for the evening, and this was an area where nobody tended to hang out – not even prostitutes or street gang members. Trevor randomly selected a trash bin, and climbed inside with his flashlight, garbage bags and scotch tape. He began making little loops of tape and lining the inside rim of the first bag he pulled out from the box. After he completely lined the bag, he stepped into it, got a second bag, pulled it over his head and carefully sealed the bags together. Trevor took a third bag, left it folded up, and completed the seal by taping that bag over the first seal with the remaining scotch tape.
Trevor turned off his flash light and began wiggling in his home made cocoon until other bags with garbage completely covered his. He began to feel sick, but slowly fell asleep. Eleven days later, Trevor’s wife was surprised to find their dog curled up dead in the back yard with her tongue hanging out, having died of thirst after being left alone for seven days with no fresh water and with her stomach full of grass and cat shit. She wondered where Trevor was. Had he driven back to Las Vegas to gamble again, she wondered? Why did he leave his iPathy behind, she wondered aloud nervously staring at her husband’s favorite new device sitting on the coffee table …
Nobody every found Trevor, but his car was recovered by a local street gang. They stripped the car and sold the parts to another gang.
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ΩChasey Lick’s Story – with John and Jerry
Joe Conga Lives Inside of Trevor Lick’s head
….
There are rumors, however, that Trevor disappeared, and moved to Lebanon. Apparently, rumor has it, he was rescued by early nanobot technology that Trevor had ingested just prior to his disappearance. It has been said that Trevor has communicated with an indirect link through his grand daughter and Trevor has rejuvenated his aging body several times now and, if so, would be considerably older than the General.
….
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poetry
Upgrade01A 
October 22, 2011
UPGRADE 01A on YouTube
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