I think about these things all day. The integrated circuit (ref. #U101) probably contains only 2 or 3 KB of actual storage capacity. But at only 17 cents when bought in bulk (orders of 101-200) I could run away with a great deal. Maybe my system would build up quicker if I started with such a small EEPROM size. Like a weightlifter hefting loads, I too could condition my physical being to influence my mental being. Fuck the spiritual.

I believe that falafel is the perfect food. Sure the food court is crowded but I never have falafel made on a Monday. Even on Tuesdays I sometimes find myself getting behind on the preparations of this Middle Eastern species of delicious grain. I must learn to conquer my laziness. The Pita Express is a real savior in this regard. Thank god I found a table so quickly. I can hardly wait to cram the fiber-enriched product down my gullet. Wait a minute. Maybe that was just an acid flashback but I saw something in my peripheral that really concerns me. No, probably another flashback.

I would know better than to make that connection in parallel, wouldn’t I? And I definitely have confidence that I can ‘will’ myself to subjugate a diode bridge. I’m sure of it. Sometimes its thoughts like these that really get me sweaty. I feel energized and the pain in my lower back and abdomen isn’t so bad. It’s starting. I can feel it happening right now. Today’s Monday. No delivery until Wednesday. Looks like another late-nite raid at Radio Shack. That garbage is akin to McDonalds' cheap product. Made with the cheapest ingredients. You are what you eat, right? But I’m not waiting until Wednesday.

I refuse to be distracted from my falafel. God, this lemonade is great! The acidity clears my taste buds; it thoroughly washes my palette. What a great combination of flavors. I never understood the chips though. It’s fries all the way.

Ok, that wasn’t a flashback. What the fuck is that guy eating? I can’t let him see me watching him. He seems too out of it to notice, like he’s having a conversation with himself. Fucking freak. He doesn’t deserve the time he’s stealing from my lunch. I hate this goddamned food court. I’ll start eating in the fucking stairwell if I have to. Oh my god, that sick fuck is going to bust his teeth cranking like that on those stale Macadamias or whatever they are. I need to get out of here.

The amplification should account for loss in the alert generator. Fucking mail-order! I need to have my order teleported to me or something. When the technology arrives, I’m there. I can’t depend on some schmuck making $10 an hour being late in building something that could destroy his whole world. This project is bigger than him. It’s bigger than these oblivious ants wandering around this shopping mall. But it’s not bigger than me. I am exclusively the only thing – being or inanimate object – that is bigger than IT. Because I am saddled with the duty to carry out what I know to be as important as God’s work. And in the execution of my plan to carry out this duty I know that where ever it leads me and whatever I find next to accomplish on my list of demands, if I die I must have reached my destination.

But if the CPU oscillator’s timing crystal is brought more than .7 Hz off its resonant frequency by the natural metabolism of my body, having been ill adjusted by the overly warm environment (humidity especially) of this shithole, this MALL, the 1.5 microfarad fixed capacitors will not give me the stored voltage I’ll need to power the CPU itself! I’ve got to get out of here.

I better slow down, save some fries. I’m starving but I need an excuse to sit here, to watch this deranged fuck. ‘Receiver Electrical Parts List’? There’s post-it-notes on the floor with 4 character codes on them: C113, U100, U101… What is all this shit? He must have found it in the garbage, maybe it was already on the table when he got here. Probably can’t even read or write his own name. Why did he have to fuck up MY lunch? Go eat your goddamned resistors somewhere else! Maybe I should just call the cops, that would be the sensible thing to do. The humane thing.

Where is that theory/maintenance manual? I need to check the overall frequency stability of the unit. This could be major. How could I be so stupid! There is no room for events unplanned for! But wait -- I can feel it now, something’s reacting. I can feel the blue magnetism burning in my guts. The huge, stored amperage is radiating from my brain down to the RAM halfway through my small intestine. The power and synchronization is building me up; it's enforcing me with a might that can only grow larger. Exponentially, my cells become ionized -- negative voltage accumulating near my feet, then flowing out into the earth. It feels good.

I know what it’s like to FEEL capacitance. That’s like trying to explain ‘red’ to a blind person. It’s like describing the concept of reading to an autistic kid. Where do you begin? With the advent of the written word? Spoken word, even? YOU will never know the difference between fixed and variable capacitance, the latter adjusted by standing in a magnetic field produced by an open-coil transformer wound with hundreds of feet of 1 gauge solid core copper cable. The feeling of knowing – UNDERSTANDING – the exact value, down to the nano-henry, of your own electrical worth.

Shit, he’s getting up. Ok, be cool, take your time. Let him get a lead and wait till it’s safe to follow. There’s nothing worse than the ignorant scums who won’t return their trays or pick up their garbage. It reminds me of high school; I always wanted to clean up that cafeteria. Just leave me alone with some 409 and give me a couple of hours. I would take out all the trash and clean the muck that has accumulated in the grease of the folding hinges that work to conserve space. I despise myself for doing it but I’ll lose him if I have to walk across the aisle to the trash and recycling island and back again. Damn, he left half of that technical paperwork and he’s hauling ass towards the steps. C’mon man, I really don’t feel like running today!

U122? It must be C101. Or were those the generic Radio Shack LCD’s? I knew I’d pay for this lack of organization. It’s spoiling everything now. My mind’s eye must have cataracts. I could have sworn that there were some extras lying on the workbench, maybe in that little tray on my soldering iron’s base. Why can’t I remember? Think, dammit…. I still have time. Can’t arouse suspicion by sprinting through here like a madman. Why is it that the insane always run? From what, really? Themselves probably. Poor bastards. But there’s no time for frivolous garbage. No time for contemplating a mindset which I’ll never comprehend. I need to learn to worry more about that which affects me directly. That which is meaningful. Not that which is not. What happened to the old regimen – wake up early, then push-ups, sit-ups, read the new tech documents, 5-7 U102’s, 10-12 C113’s…that’s when progress was made. I’ve done half the work of those days in twice the time.

Oh, fuck it. I’m not sure if it’s a bigger waste to stop now after getting all sweaty or if I had just stopped after seeing my lunch ruined. At least then I could have saved face and not expended this wasted energy. It’s my own fault; what business of mine is it if some fellow wants to eat micro-electrical components? I make a big enough deal about getting my falafel. But that’s different. Well, it’s for a higher cause! Funny, I say that now just after downing falafel made by some fool who makes $7 an hour. What does he know of God’s Work? How much does he have to tell about bearing the load and having the responsibility of building a superior lifeform from a terribly inefficient human? That falafel might have been par-cooked the night before. And what do I do? Eat it anyway. This isn’t what I was taught. When did I become so sloppy? I chastise my former high-school peers for leaving saliva-caked milk cartons on the floor. Then I go out and eat bad falafel, the likes of which could easily and severely stunt the progress of this plan. It’s time to buckle down. No more garbage. No more waste. I shall make Monday’s falafel Sunday afternoon. I shall salvage what I can from the freezer and ditch the rest. No more bad falafel – no more excuses either. This is too big – bigger than me. If I fail, someone shall surely take up the slack, correct? I can’t dwell on these things any longer. If I get down to the grocer before they close at 7, I can prepare a fresh batch for tomorrow morning and eat some when it cools around 11. It’s time I prove a bad choice wasn’t made when I was appointed to carry out the exercise which will eventually change time. ‘More falafel, less time’. That will be my new motto. My mantra, by which to ingrain the discipline I need to be alert, ready and constantly working to achieve my goal.

Because I am saddled with the duty to carry out what I know to be important as God’s work. And in the execution of my plan to carry out this duty I know that where ever it leads me and whatever I find next to accomplish on my list of demands, if I die I must have reached my destination.