Lazy Luddite Log


Gumshoe Telepath: News

Once more I develop sufficient concept to generate some content for the next installment of this slowly developing story. Once more it has character development and also gets back to some of the political vibe of the story.

It was an overcast and smoggy day on which we met at the Roundtree. For once I made sure I was on time. Kristen walked in a moment later and sat opposite me in our customary booth. Despite my best efforts my mind flashed back to sitting in the car with her the previous night. It was difficult to see her as anything other than...

Kristen interrupted my thinking by taking my hand. Suddenly I lost my mind. I was totally gone. I was nothing but an awareness that I was who I was. But then that awareness was filled with the content of another mind and I perceived myself in a way that was new to me.

I had never known that I was totally lacking in attractiveness. I had never considered that I was admired and respected in the manner of an older sibling. This was a shock. And in contrast I also experienced fleeting moments of how Kristen felt for those in her life that she was intimate with... the love she felt for him... the lust she felt for her... the total absence of such things for me. And finally I felt the frustration she felt at constantly having to endure my innuendos. I also smelt the faintest aroma of something as she withdrew her touch.


"The mind works in funny ways Derrick."

I was flabbergasted. Rarely if ever do we understand exactly what others think of us and now I had experienced just that. I stared at her dumbfounded.

"I had to do that Derrick. You had to know so that we can get on with our working relationship and get this case sorted."

I considered saying that what all human relations needed was telepathy but then I started thinking. What they needed was for everyone to pay attention to the words and deeds of others rather than just think what they wanted to think. Even a non-telepath like me knew that. I had been a shitskull with Kristen for ages and on some level had always known that.

"I can tell you my mad notion of the twins now" Kristen uttered with a small smile.

"Yes - um - surely even twins would still feel different to your senses."

"Well sure but these two felt like they are both twins and also the product of the most amazing life-long conditioning. I have got a similar vibe from small groups of fanatics whose minds seem to grow closer and closer till personal differences are quashed by group oppression."

"Right. So. Twin telepaths conditioned as assassins for some fanatical cause who kill gang bosses. What is the cause? A sort of ultra-violent Neighbourhood Watch?"

Kristen smiled once more at that. "I wish. There was another thing I detected in my vibesweeps - an excitement at the practice the killings represented for them..."


"Yep. They were passing a test and if they succeeded then the next thing would be something much bigger."

I wanted to say that this was all the most amazing conjecture and that finding evidence of any of it would be like finding a specific pixel in a Summer blockbuster holo-cast. Just then however our attention was drawn towards the bar and the old-school vidscreen showing world news.

The news had that important feel to it and yet it took a minute or so to get what exactly they were reporting. It seemed that the Congress Minority Leader had been killed by one of his own security force. Kristen looked at me with a haunted look animating her face.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking Derrick?"

"You tell me Kristen" I muttered with a raised eyebrow.

We both sat there staring at the screen and wondering whether this news and our case were linked. I will just for now assume that we were both imagining that a Telepath Twin was the killer and pondering what damage the other twin was inflicting on the world. And for possibly the first time ever Kristen and I were united in mind and purpose. We had to get to the bottom of this even if it would take us down a very dangerous path.

The most interesting concept I explore here is that with sufficient practice and good will we can all get that bit closer to 'telepathy' if we pay attention to the way others communicate with us. I wonder if throwing morals into my story is a wise thing to do. In the next chapter I get back more to science fiction and action.

The rest of this now completed story can be accessed via this listing.



Cesspool Anecdotes

I feel like another anecdote focusing on long-term friends. Some recently posted photos on Facebook reminded me of my original share household - The Cesspool - and its assorted challenges.

I moved in with friends Damien and Polly (who had had student household experience at the Animal Farm) and excitement turned to frustration once we discovered how crappy landlords and estate agents can be. But hold on a moment - some of you may be wondering at these household names. What is with that?

It is a kind of convenience. Rather than say "there is a video night at the home of X and Y and Z" you simply say "video night at Cesspool!" The better household names are ones suggested by the house itself or some aspect of the experience of living there. A line from the old Queen song Death On Two Legs ("decaying in a cesspool of pride") summarized how we felt of our landlord once we discovered the twin horrors of that house.

The Cesspool may have once been a nice house. It was solid brick (rather than brick veneer) and possibly as much as a half-century old. The problem however is that it had a lack of ventilation under the floor and this (combined with owner neglect) produced two nasty characteristics.

One was rising damp in a corner of the living room. It smelled. We utilized products that mask smell - in other words we became accustomed to one smell layered over another. This affectionately named Slime Mould was the lesser of the twin horrors. The greater was the dampness under the floor would rot the floors over time. In the kitchen at some past time proper (if rotted) timber floors had been replaced by chipboard. Yes - as we walked in the kitchen we were walking on a laminate of linoleum, newspaper, chipboard, and a foot of empty space above the ground.

By the time we moved in the chipboard was getting decidedly soggy. Then holes formed. In parts of the kitchen the lino was like a trampoline! Chair legs punctured holes in the lino. Then...

Hold on. I have to backtrack a bit because there is an amusing notion forming here - the Curse of Cesspool.

See Cesspool was on Dandenong Road close to Monash Univeristy in Clayton. I was walking home one night and I may have been somewhat absent-minded because as I was crossing the service lane a slow-moving car hit me. The driver - who may also have been absent-minded to overlook me even in my dark Melburnian attire - stopped and helped me. By chance he was a nurse so gave me a quick evaluation then drove me home. I had only been hit by the bumper at slow speed on my calves and then fallen onto the tar on my hands. A bit of grazing and bruising was the result. Nonetheless the driver even visited the next day to check I was still okay.

So here was the start of the Curse. Now we can return to the kitchen floor...

Polly was cooking in the kitchen or possibly just getting herself her nth coffee for the day and suddenly fell into the gaping abyss! We had gotten pretty good and knowing the safe paths across the room but that pattern changed over time and so there Polly was with one leg in the floor and resulting injury that lasted many weeks as compared with my recovery time of a few minutes.

I got hit by a car across the road from Cesspool and got a few scratches. Polly fell into the floor of the Cesspool kitchen getting a more significant injury. We discerned a pattern forming and, like all those under stress, imposed dark intent upon our fortunes and speculated that Damien would be found one morning decapitated in his bedroom! Fortunately the Curse of Cesspool was never fulfilled.

What did we do about all this hardship? Well we asked the estate agent (which I will name if anyone asks me directly) for help. We got lots of excuses and time-wasting and finally we had to call on the Office Of Fair Trading to intervene for us. Legal action was never taken but the mere act of having contacted an authority motivated the landlord to take final action by filling the entire space below the kitchen floor with dirt and gravel then a layer of concrete. Whomever moved in next got the benefit of this change because we moved to better accommodation as soon as we could.

The next home - Flea Circus - was far better. Yes there were fleas in the carpet at the start but that was fixed by flea-bombs set off while we were away one weekend at a FOME camp. Otherwise it was a lovely weatherboard house round the corner in a backstreet and we had a direct relationship with the landlord who worked at Monash so we could visit her to communicate any issues at our convenience.

The Cesspool experience made all of us in our future and separate house-hunting actions much more wary and discerning. I will say this, however, Cesspool had a lovely wide hallway which was fantastic for hall-crams during parties, and we hosted some fantastic parties there. Partying made our twelve months there go so much quicker.

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