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Futurama By Arthur

November 24, 2003 10:35 p.m.

Sorry it took so long for me to add an entry. This is about the first time I took mushrooms. It was... surreal.

Futurama

It has to be done with a pure heart, the old woman cautions. If you have bad intentions, the vision will evade you, tempting you to take more and more until it finally kills you.

I shudder slightly at her grim warning, and the old woman looks at me sharply, her black eyes narrowing so much they are almost buried in the sagging skin around the sockets. She looks like a death head, and again I shudder involuntarily.

You have done this before, haven�t you? She questions, her eyes ordering me to tell the truth

Yes, I lie, trying to deny the imperative in her gaze.

A pure heart, her voice whispers, even though her mouth doesn�t move, and I amend my answer to a wavering No, the syllable passing my lips and filling the room.

Good, the old woman replies, surprising me. This, she indicates a small pile of fungi on the table; this is not what you buy from some child off the street. It can kill you. It would do so with pleasure.

I feel like I should laugh at her words, but something in this smoky, poorly lit room has convinced me that she is telling the truth. My throat is parched and gritty, as though I strolled through the Gobi on a windy day.

She hands me a large bottle. Drink this. It�ll wet your throat and settle your stomach. The hallucinogen will take longer to work, but we�ll both appreciate the water when you aren�t puking all over the floor.

I sniff the water, making her smile approvingly, then drink it slowly as she explains the purpose of the ritual.

You take the poison to find enlightenment, and the Dalai Lama flashes before my eyes, speaking Tibetan or whatever language it is that the Dalai Lama speaks. I choke on a giggle and idly wonder if the water is spike with GBH or something.

You�re only nervous, the old woman soothes. I wouldn�t spike your drink.

I giggle at this modern phrase leaving such an aged mouth. She draws herself up sharply, her whole personality shrinking in upon itself. Maybe you aren�t ready for this, she says as she moves to grab the mushrooms from the table.

I hold out a hand beseechingly. Please, I come in supplication, I say, reciting the mantra that had allowed me through the door. I seek enlightenment. I want to learn the mysteries of time. Even as I recite the words, I wonder why on earth I came to this dark room with this ancient toothless hag, delivering words that seem more and more fantastical as I repeat them.

Fantastical or not, the words calm her anger, and she settles herself back to the floor, her hand moving away from the mushrooms. I get the uneasy feeling that she orchestrated our last exchange to test me for some reason.

Fine. As I was saying, this removes the construct of time from your brain. All the thoughts you�ve had are already at your disposal; all your memories are available to you. This makes all the thoughts and memories you are going to have available as well.

Seems like a lot to ask of a few mushrooms, I say doubtfully, as my mind tries to wrap itself around the concept of a world with no time. It doesn�t work.

Shut. Up. The old woman says forcefully, dragging my mind from its lack of time contemplation. Can�t you be silent for thirty seconds running? I get the feeling this little outburst wasn�t orchestrated, and I shut my mouth abruptly. The gift of the hallucinogen is a double-edged sword, the woman continues serenely, and I again wonder why I am in this room listening to this strange creature ramble on and on about enlightenment and swords. I know I want to try mushrooms, and Davey said this was the best place to go, but really. I just want to get high. It shouldn�t be this weird until after I�m stoned.

The woman hasn�t noticed my wandering thoughts, and I decide to focus on her words again, out of respect for the elderly.

The mushrooms will reveal the future to you, but it�s only random snippets. You won�t understand what�s been shown to you until the time it happens. She tosses a sidelong glance my way. It can drive you insane, twenty-twenty hindsight before something even occurs. Do you think you can handle it?

I think about the strange prophetic dreams that already plague me, and the years I have worked to calm my urge to figure out what I was being shown. I�m ready, I reply.

Okay. Finish your water. I drink the remaining contents of the bottle and look at her expectantly. She divides the pile of mushrooms in half and shoves one half my way.

Eat them slowly, she warns, but don�t stop until they�re all gone. Wait a few minutes. The effects will kick in soon enough. Try not to throw up until you absolutely must; it�s a poison and your body will try to expel it, but that�s a risk you have to take. Chew them thoroughly, so that it won�t take as long for your body to digest them.

I place one cap in my mouth and chew. They taste almost like normal mushrooms, like shadowed forests and deep valleys, but there�s something primeval in them as well, something like loam and history.

I sit back. So far my stomach remains calm. I look for the old woman, but she�s moved to somewhere else.

Lights appear in the room, multicolored bulbs in all the sockets. They illuminate murals of astonishing beauty. As I look at a picture of a stream in the mountains, I realize the water is actually running. I crawl towards the mural, try to place my hands in the water, but no water is there, even though it�s moving and I can hear it. The leaves are blowing in the wind and

*snap* KILL THEM ALL, a voice shrieks in my head. MAKE THEM PAY, and the vision of a plane flying into a tall building and where did that awful thought come from I�m not violent then

*snap* You�re just my shadow, I say to a girl. You�re not even a real person. She replies, I�d rather be your shadow than anything else and I say Okay, fine and turn cruelly away and I wonder how I can be so disinterested in her loss of individuality then

*snap* You�re just a toy, idiot, I say to a strange boy lying on my bed. Stop being so melodramatic and how can I be so malicious to this boy and

*snap* I�m empty, I�m completely empty a desolate whisper which I recognize as my own then

*snap* I HATE YOU I scream at Davey, an older Davey You ruined my fucking life! I wish I�d never met you! and how can I ever hate Davey then the stream comes rushing back and I hear the leaves again, and someone sobbing and retching and then

Nothing. ***** Arthur

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