Saturday Scribes: Phenomena

Our philosophy teacher, Dr. Lauder, doubles as a magician, which makes the lessons he teaches rather interesting, to say the least. Why just yesterday he showed his prowess while teaching us about Kant. As is common, he sat in a plain wooden chair in front of a plain wooden table with four legs. The slab of wood atop the four legs is only six inches or so thick, and there are beneath that slab no drawers or other obscuring items. We can clearly see his khakis and brown shoes.

As we entered the classroom, we saw written on the board 'Immanuel Kant 1724-1804'. And on the table in front of the seated professor was a battery-operated frog toy. When the class was seated and settled, Dr. Lauder began his lecture. 'Phenomena versus Noumena' he said. 'One of the many discussion points associated with Kant. I have here a toy frog sitting quite still. If I wind it, it will roll around the desk, and perhaps off it.' He wound the toy and it spun in circles before falling onto the ground. 'You have just seen the toy frog spin and fall. You have witnessed that phenomena.

'Now, I will place the toy frog in this box on the corner of the table.' He did. 'I will knock thrice on the box.' He did. 'And now I would like you to consider the frog. Was that a frog in and of itself? If so, why? If not, why not?' There came a pause.

'It wasn't a frog,' said one, 'but just a crude representation of one'.

'I agree,' chimed in another. 'A frog is a living, breathing life form. And that was a plastic play toy.'

'Fine,' said the professor. 'But when I open this box...' He opened the box. 'I see a real, live breathing frog.' And in fact, there sat in the box a frog with a battery strapped to its back.

'That's not the same frog,' snapped one of the students, obviously frustrated.

'Prove it,' said the teacher. 'I would argue that the toy's action as a rolling thing and its subsequent transformation into this living being that hops - two respective phenomena of the respective entities that I call "frog" - are just two representations of the same thing I call "frog".'

'But they aren't the same thing,' repeated the student.

'You're right. And it will be your assignment for next week in a couple typed pages to explain why. Now let us discuss further...'

Saturday Scribes: Form V. Function

'Good morning, can I help you?' the young security officer asked the well dressed man.

'Yes, I am looking for a Dr. Robert Looney. Is he here?'

'Yes, sir, I believe he's in his office, but you should check with his secretary to see if he is available.'

'Thank you.'

The young man entered through a pair of double doors and found behind the front desk an attractive woman he guessed to be about 40. 'Good morning. I was told to see you about meeting with Dr. Robert Looney.'

'Oh,' she said. 'Well, umm...'

'Is there a problem?'

'It's just that he doesn't normally see visitors. Can I help you with something?' Her reaction boggled the man.

'He doesn't ever see visitors or he doesn't see them without an appointment?'

'Well, it's been a long time since I've had anyone ask to meet with him.'

'When was the last time?'

'Never...' Her voice trailed into oblivion leaving them sharing an awkward pause. She broke it first. 'May I ask what this is regarding?'

He replied, 'The government pays Dr. Looney a significant amount of money to develop unique solutions to difficult problems, at least that's what I was told. And I'm here to check in on those projects.'

'Oh...' She looked down at her monitor and began searching. After about 30 seconds, she looked back up and said, 'You must be Ed Cranston.'

'No, Ed passed away about six months back. I'm his replacement, Jarvis Perez.'

'Oh...' She smiled blankly. 'It's nice to meet you.'

'Yes, so, can I see Dr. Looney?'

'Let me check.' She disappeared into the office behind her and closed the door.

Jarvis heard a brief interchange but could not make out the words. She appeared a moment later and said, 'He will see you now' in her best formal voice. She added, less formally, 'He has a... what you might call a... a delicate temperament. So, just be gentle. Don't do anything to disturb him is all I mean.' She sat back down at her computer and resumed doing whatever it was she was doing.

After throwing the receptionist an odd look, Jarvis entered through the door to find a complete and utter mess. It wasn't an office at all but what looked like a college dorm room replete with bed and desk. Dr. Looney, an older man of about 60, sat at the desk staring at the computer. He was in his flannel pajamas.

'Hello, Dr. Looney.'

'Yes, yes, please sit. No pleasantries,' he blurted in his rather high-pitched voice. 'I am working, you know. Very busy. And sleepy. But no matter. What do you want?'

'Yes, well, my name is...'

'I said no pleasantries, sir. You may leave.'

'Fine. I'm curious to find out about the projects that you're involved in for the government.'

'Which government?' he inquired forgetting that he had just asked Jarvis to leave.

'The U.S. government,' Jarvis answered, a bit perplexed.

'Oh yes. Oh yes! The most recent is a new locomotive. It is a beautiful machine. Limitless in its performance. Incomparable in its aesthetics.'

Jarvis, having not dealt with the man before, was stunned - if only for a moment - by his description. 'You built a new train?'

'Train? Train!? No, not a mere train. It is a locomotive that rivals all that have proceeded it. More sleek than the bullet train, more classic than those developed in the golden age of locomotives.'

'Can I see it?'

'Yes, indeed!' he squealed. He reacted as a child readying to show his latest trinket at show and tell. He pulled from a pile of papers a sketch, colored with crayon. 'Here it is.' He thrust the paper into Jarvis' hands.

Jarvis took one look at the page and asked, 'Why is this locomotive better than others?'

Without hesitation and rather indignantly, Dr. Looney answered 'Can you not see the beauty in its design?'

'Okay, then how does it work?' Jarvis replied.

'I've only been able to make the sketch,' he said, 'I'm working on the functionality at present.'

'How long have you been working on this project?'

'I believe it's been five years. Why?'

'Oh, no reason. We will be in touch.' Jarvis placed the paper on the desk and departed, wondering if he had just entered, and thankfully left, the Twilight Zone.

Saturday Scribes: Music (Theme)

Words:

• elbow
• crows
• merchant

Eddie approached the house where he had lived just two short weeks prior. He carried in his left hand a worn paperback. He knocked. The door opened.

The young man standing in the doorway folded his arms across his chest; he made no indication that he would allow Eddie into the house.

'What do you want?' the young man asked.

'Jason, I'm sorry that I had to leave, but...'

'Save your buts, Eddie. It's been two weeks. What do you want?'

From behind Jason, Eddie heard the eerie tones of Jason's music lingering. The high nasal voice combined with the synthesized sounds of a piano. Eddie sighed. 'Look, I was wrong to leave in the way that I did. I should have told you. But I'm going home. Starting new. Away from this place. And I need the money I lent to you.' He paused. 'I don't need all of it right now, but I need about half so I can move back home and get a place. That should hold me over. Then you can pay me back with the rest later.'

Jason's eyes flickered with indignation. 'You stab me in the back and then ask for your money? No. Get out of here.' He moved to slam the door.

Eddie moved his arm to stop the door. He felt most of the impact on his right elbow and shuddered with pain. The book dropped from his hand into the house. He pushed against the door forcing Jason - even with his adrenaline - backwards.

'You got no right coming in here.'

'Jason, let's make this easy, okay? Just give me half and we'll call it good.' He picked up the book and flung it onto the couch. 'Oh, and I took this by accident.' The Merchant of Venice bounced on the putrid green cushions.

Jason retreated back into the makeshift dining room, seething with anger. 'Ironic that I'm the Jew, ain't it?' he spewed venomously.

'Jason, we had a plan. We had our music, ideas for a band, everything ready to go. But you decided to go in your own direction. To stab me in the back and find a bunch of losers with musical talent. I wasn't good enough for you. I was holding you back. But my money sure wasn't. Well, if you want to do this on your own, then do it. Just give me back my share.' He stepped closer to Jason, almost threateningly.

'You left me with all the bills, all the cleanup from that party, all the follow-up with the cops, and I owe you something? You're the one who should be eating crow. Get the hell out of my house!'

'Jason, there aren't enough crows in this world to make up for what you've done to me in the past. But I don't even care about that. Just give me the money, and we can call it good. Go our separate ways. Do what we want and whatever. What about it?'

'Eddie, I don't have the money. It's spent.'

'Unspend it.'

'I can't.'

'Well, then we have a problem...'