The CuisinArt

We are all reincarnations, though short lived ones. When we die, our atoms will disassemble and move off to find new ones elsewhere, as part of a leaf, an animal, a swing set, the tire of a bicycle, or another human.

Atlan shifts focus from the book. He examines the chair he sits in: A dark shade of green. It’s a very peculiar chair, all of a sudden. He looks at the fibers in the carpet, the bits of dirt in his fingernails, the dust on the bookshelf across the room, the indiscriminate hairs sticking to his black turtleneck shirt. He moves to his room.

“Frankly, I couldn’t care less what she thinks of me…Who the hell is she to say anything, anyway…she’s trash…Not yet, I’ve tried it on, but I don’t want to look like slut…Are you sure?… He better, I’m sick of the games.”

Atlan’s room was more of a spacious closet (By Middle Class American standards), occupied by a twin bed (previously stored in the attic for 5 years; where he found the book he now reads), a small end table with a flat surface, which he uses for a desk, and some shelves (enough room for his wardrobe: four pairs of dark khakis, six plain white t-shirts, three hand made wool sweaters, socks, underwear, a few long sleeve tees, and two button down collared shirts for dinners).
Our moon is large in relation to us (1/4 Earth’s size). The moon’s steady gravitational influence keeps the Earth spinning at the right speed and angle to provide stability.

He takes a sip of coffee. He looks at the window, then through it: A child walks down the street, with a small sheep dog in tow. It pauses and squats.

“I’m sorry, I know not everyone is perfect, but if you’re her size, and you aren’t eating raw vegetables 24-7, then you deserve it. And she shouldn’t wear shirts that show her fat stomach. She’s asking for ridicule.”

A little further, is a small movie theatre: singles, couples, and groups walk in and out while the projector is re-threaded for the next showing.

Our planet falls in a perfectly located orbit. 5% closer to the sun or 15% further and we wouldn’t be here.

Atlan examines a camera that he received as a gift from an old man, during his sojourn in Atlan’s mountain town, three years prior to this day. Though outdated, by today’s standards, Atlan never considered updating. He took his first pictures with it- pictures that would garner an offer for a full academic scholarship in the United States.

“Do you really think I care? I have every intention of making her cry. I-do-not-giveafuck… Hold on, I’ll ask him….Hey Atlan, you want to come to a party tonight…Well, do you mind giving me and Sarah a ride? We’ll take a cab back…Thanks, we’re ready whenever you are.”

He breathes in slowly through his nose, feeling the air and the minute dust particles enter his nasal passage. He flips to a new page. He’s now moved to the bed.

An atom is mostly empty space, with a very dense nucleus. If you expanded an atom into the size of a Cathedral, the nucleus would be the size of a fly- but a fly many thousands of times heavier than the cathedral.

He takes pictures of a few pages, which he will print at the local library and mail to his best friend in Cypress, who is serving his required 6-months of Turkey’s military training.

“Ugh, I don’t know. They’ll be back afternoon tomorrow to take Atlan to the University. I will get him back here tonight, and I can’t wait to see her face when we leave together. I bet she doesn’t even show up to class tomorrow”

He examines the palms of his hands, the ceiling, the book, the wood floor (and each crack in it), the rock garden in the yard, and the steam from his coffee. She comes to the door. He examines her outfit, her hair, her makeup, her push-up bra.

“You ready?”

The Unified Field theory allows all of the fundamental forces between elementary particles to be written in terms of a single field. Every single thing, that is a thing, emerges from this field.