Iterative Stochastic Semiography

Two days later and I was released, complete with a referral to the psychiatrist. I didn’t seem to present any risk of imminent harm to myself or others, but I slipped up a few times to turn in surprise at some exceptionally loud inaudible sound. I said it was nothing, so I must have just looked jumpy as hell.

Yeah, that’s it. It’s all just nerves. I’ll take Dr. Mahoney for $500 and a free side of bennies, please.

I might not have thought I wanted to see a shrink at first, but these last two days, thankfully no longer strapped to the side rails, at least, were a bit much. That sound a short-wave radio makes when scanning through the aethers? Couple that with the multi-tracked, multi-speed conversations, and we have a winner. It’s not all bad, though. I’m finally getting snippets of sense, and I’m starting to recall them. And if what I am isn’t crazy, I don’t know what it is.

So far, what I know is that I can call him, for he’s a him, after all, The Only. Apparently that part had actually come through before, but I thought it was just me making sense out of that sensation of isolation. No, apparently it’s a title, and he is just that isolated, but it might not be a bad thing. I couldn’t really tell. Those were, indeed, his eyes I saw, and he was apologetic for the fright it gave me.

And there was a splitting headache at one point. It felt like it lasted for hours, but I’m pretty sure not even a whole minute had passed. If someone could tear your skull open and pour boiling oil into it, it might relieve some of what I felt. I came to on the floor by the sofa, which is strange because I’d been in the bedroom when the pain hit. But I felt fine, if a bit out of sorts. Better than that, I had a really clear memory of The Only letting me know he’s figured out how to clear up the channel of communication he’s opened with me, and I think I vaguely understand the phrase for it he created in my mind. Apparently he was able to reach in, so to speak, see how I perceive things, mess around in my language circuits, and tinker with how I connect the two. Maybe he checked my headlight fluid while he was at it, I don’t know. I’m not a psychiatrist.

But I know he’s going to use something my mind now thinks of as iterative stochastic semiography. What the hell?

Start • Previous: Eyes of the Only • Next: The Old Man Must Die

Original artwork assembled from:

Computer generated lorem ipsum from

PSM V27 D230 Petroleum table, in the public domain.

Illustrirte Geschichte der Schrift, in the public domain.

Random Numbers, in the public domain.

Gaming dice, in the public domain.


3 thoughts on “Iterative Stochastic Semiography

  1. Pingback: Daily Log Entry 2/14/2017 – Rocky Mountain Bog Monster

  2. Pingback: Eyes of The Only – Rocky Mountain Bog Monster

  3. Pingback: The Old Man Must Die – Rocky Mountain Bog Monster

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s