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?


Original artwork assembled from:

Computer generated lorem ipsum from http://www.lipsum.com/.

PSM V27 D230 Petroleum table, in the public domain. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:PSM_V27_D230_Petroleum_table..png

Illustrirte Geschichte der Schrift, in the public domain. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Illustrirte_Geschichte_der_Schrift_(Faulmann)_560.jpg

Random Numbers, in the public domain. http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=43640&picture=random-numbers

Gaming dice, in the public domain. https://pixabay.com/en/cube-play-role-playing-game-craps-568105/

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Author: Rocky Mountain Bog Monster

Lifelong student with interests a mile wide and an inch deep. Autodidact. Pedant, hopefully of the slightly more pleasant sort. Sharer of things learned along the way. Lately of a creative bent.

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