Article: 288838 of talk.bizarre
From: D Rowe <>
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: The Existence of everything.
Date: Wed, 4 Dec 1996 07:38:30 -0500
Organization: Lambton College, Sarnia, CANADA
Lines: 51
Message-ID: <>

	Imagine, if you will, a dimension not only of space and time, but
also of mind. Imagine a dimension where Edgar Allen Poe switched the
words, 'As I pondered weak and weary' with 'As I pondered Jane MacLeary'.
Throw into this mix a man named John... A man like any other. Two arms,
two legs, a head. In fact, much like Brian except that he was never
mistaken for the Messiah.

	Except once. This is the story of John MacDonald. Hero, poet,
scholar, lover: He was all these things. In fact, he was none of these
things, but to say he was a schmegma who flunked out of College would make
bad press. Anyway, back to the story of this incredible tale of
mundaneness and humdrummedness given surrealistic qualities. And a darn
good manipulation of negative space, if I do say so myself. In fact, given
the nature of this screen, one would almost be willing to ponder it for an
hour to notice the picture the author was wanting to portray. _YET_... I

	John MacDonald was an average guy, living an average life in an
average non-job. This non-job was, in fact, his whole reason for being. It
was slightly glamorous in a non-impressive sort of way and he adored it
for it's ability to keep him absolutely free at all times. He began to
peruse that otherworldly dimention known as the Internet, his mind
wandering to far of worlds because this one offered nothing he could want.
And so he began spending more and more time on the Internet, unable to
take the time to straighten his life around. Therein lay his downfall...

	Like a creeping vine of the jungle, the other user crept up on
him. Neither one was aware of the other, their mutual icons drifting
closer to the same virtualspace. This other user imagined himself a dark
ruler of virtual worlds, a demagogue of flamery and the incarnation of
Virtual Evil(R) itself. A sleeping behemoth, this user had at its
fingertips a cornucopia of hacking and virus utilities, capable of
destroying whole systems with but the maniacal stroking of a few hands.
	 It is now not known what this vile Superuser wished at the time,
the details of his nefarious descent to the same sanctuary of peace and
bastion of strength that John was in. Indeed, this was not the important
issue. Instead, as the being drifted in, his hate-filled head sneering in
virtual supremacy. Gazing around, he lit upon each being inside and every
one wilted at his omnipotence. He parted parched lips, his words coming
out in a croak like those of a MUD user who had never taken the time to
socialize with another living soul. The breath pushed past his lips in a
horrid gust, his voice like scraping icicles. The voice formed words,
shaped by the terrible countenance that was his mouth.

	"Excuse me...?" he screached, his voice like a damned soul as he
directed a question towards John. "Are you... The Messiah?"

	"No." John replied.