Monday, September 21, 2009
The thought-junkie slid the needle in with confidence, like it was supposed to be there. Smooth and practiced, it dove under the skin, squarely into the vein, and began leaking sophisticated, abstract information into his blood. The high was stunning and abrupt. It was vertigo and a tidal wave of hard logic. He knew so much about nothing at all. There was never enough. There was always more to know, more to vivisect. There were always holes to be knocked out, patched, and knocked out again. His mind was a dead nerve, killed by over-stimulation. As his tolerance and dosages increased, he became less a beast, and more feeble and useless. All that was magical became logical. Solid answers backpedaled, not breaking eye contact but stepping further away. The more you take, the more you need. There is no end to the hunger for fact. Almost everything made sense.