From: Ranjit Bhatnagar <ranjit@(no spam please)>
Subject: FTSD repost: My Stalker
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
User-Agent: tin/pre-1.4-980818 ("Laura") (UNIX) (FreeBSD/2.2.7-STABLE (i386))
Date: 01 Dec 1998 20:58:01 GMT
Lines: 41
Message-ID: <36645859$0$>
X-Trace: 912545881 201 ranjit@

My stalker is back.

He caught up with me in the gift shop where I was
admiring the twisted intricate things in the counter

It was the same spiel as before.  We were meant to
be one.  Our lives, our fates, are braided together.
Blah blah blah.

He leaned down to put his pleading face before mine.  He
didn't look as bad as I'd last left him, though one of his
irises was missing-- I could see the driver slots in the
threaded socket adapter as he tried to lock eyes and

I smashed his head against the wall a few times, wishing
there were something more substantial there than colored
plastic pushpins: something to penetrate that thick skull of
his.  I cracked his jaw against the counter and then looked
him in the working eye.  "I'm sorry," I said, "but I don't
believe I know you."  Another few thumps.  "Please don't
contact me again."  I gathered up my bags and speed-walked
towards the exit.  

"OK, wait!" he called.  "It was the integrator!"  (And
somehow I could picture it, a tiny shiny machined module
bristling with electrodes, strangely like the jewelry I'd
been appreciating.)  "It was supposed to unify my
processors, but instead it formed the creative core of an
organic mind!  You!"

I stopped dead on the doorstep.  Whoah!  Maybe he has a case!

"You could imagine a couple of three-toed sloths   CAN DEEP, DEEP FEELINGS BE
waltzing to that -- if they were on a really big   EXPRESSED THROUGH PIXELS? 
planet, like Jupiter."  - Peter Schikele