Article: 261483 of talk.bizarre
From: (Mark D. Cleary)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Faults
Date: Fri, 01 Dec 1995 18:45:09 -0700
Organization: perenially unemployed nonconformists S.A.
Lines: 23
Message-ID: <>
Status: O

Faults ... or My First Earthquake         by Mark Cleary

It was around 3 in the afternoon and I'd just gotten home from a particularly demoralizing shift at the coffeemines.   I held a tasting today.   I promoted it by standing 6 feet from it and pointing at it.  Not muttering a word.  Still as a statue.   People would walk by, see me and ask themselves "What is that guy pointing at?" as they glanced in the direction of my finger.  Many whispered uneasily under their breath, "Are they PAYING him to do that?" and "What does he think he's accomplishing?" and "Frea
k!".  Judgement can have a sharp edge.  So I stood there for the entire hour pointing, until the pots were empty, the customer's coffee tastes at peace, and I was left savoring each of their silent slashes.  Speak to me of Power, will you please?  

But I digress ... around 3 or so I was reading about Solberg's Tday, family Paintball tournament. Gen X won for the first time ever and he was a 6 megaton detonation of mirth and joy.   A noise began.  I thought it was a remix of that NiN song on the radio.  One I hadn't heard.  Then my little SE/30 began slowly skitttering across my desk as the murmur grew much louder.  I walked over to the window to see if there was a garbage truck backing into the side of the house.


It sounded like that huge earth mover was once again rolling down the street right outside my window.  Only they finished the sewer construction(?) months ago.  Now I was feeling the tremors through the floorboards, up through my boots and into the very hollows of my bones.  The noise was sucking the air out of my lungs.  Or maybe I was just worried.  But the resonance was THAT low.  THIS was Power.

Then it occurred to me "This must be an Earthquake."  My mind emptied, my eyes saw nothing but the door and all I could think of was "Get outta the house!"  I spun so fast my back snapped like a paperclip twisted one too many times. I ran for the door and as I was leaping down the front stairs four at a time ... 

It stopped.

I walked back inside still reeling "I was in an actual earthquake!"  Voltaire was right. "Men talk ... nature acts."  

And I thought of judgement. 

We often judge people by their faults, their failures, their shortcomings.   Is that not where Power comes from?  We judge the power of the earth by the ease with which we move its dirt.  And that is a mistake.   To judge people by their faults is to judge the earth by its faults.


(The newly christened Californian)