Bollywood Night

The poster for The Rising, a new Bollywood film starring Aamir Khan in the window of the local Indian grocery Indo Euro in Phoenix, Arizona

This is the poster for the new Bollywood film The Rising starring Aamir Khan. Often, we first learn of new Bollywood movies from the posters that are on the storefront of our friend Sonal’s Indian grocery store, Indo Euro Foods, on Bell Road in Phoenix, Arizona.

The movies play in Tempe at the Tempe Discount Theatre, and at $9.50, it is anything but a discount. The film got going at 9:30 p.m. and was over just before 12:30 in the morning. Aamir as Mangal Pandey, a historic figure in India’s fight for freedom from English rule, was great in the movie, but the music left something to be desired. Caroline and I both enjoyed the movie and agreed that, with its heavy focus on history, it’s probably not going to do well with the young crowd. Not in my top 10 favorites from Bollywood but definitely worth seeing.

Watched Movie at Home

From our TV an image from the beginning of Pennies from Heaven with Steve Martin, this is the second time this year we've watched our TV

This is the beginning of the film “Pennies from Heaven” with Steve Martin, which is only the second movie this year we have watched together on our TV. “Pennies from Heaven” is a musical that is a difficult film to fathom since it was made knowing how uncomfortable Americans are with this genre. Generally, we want our actors to play the same stereotyped roles we have become accustomed to seeing them in. Steve Martin is a lonely salesman on the road looking for love while breaking into musical numbers taken from old black-and-white films. This movie was a surefire bet for failure.

Viral Reality Distortions

Somewhere in the future, not sure if I am in China or America. It is the time of the Olympics, and China is the host. The opening ceremonies are getting underway to much fanfare, but strangely, American citizens are becoming horribly ill and are discretely trying to return to their rooms. I followed a couple back into their room to determine what was happening; the woman all of a sudden came down with stomach problems.

In a second, the authorities are at the door, and they are looking for me, the spy. I need to get out unseen. Using a finger-shaped stone and a pencil-thick inch-and-a-half-long thing that looks like a quill, I am able to change form. I rapidly change from the image I have of myself as John into a series of shapes and devices that create enough confusion to allow me to throw myself out of the door, which the authorities have blocked to apprehend me.

The ability to change form has been taught to me by a Shaman as the physical world is under assault, and I am one of the people who are trying to bring our senses back to a simpler reality.

Mankind has learned to alter reality by creating a programmable viral life form whose substrate is shared with the space occupied by oxygen, the skies. This genetically designed organism takes on the form and shape of any other organic form it is assigned to mimic. The effect doesn’t last long as the life span of the organism isn’t stable yet, but in the time that it does exist, it is enough to create severe problems.

Thus, it may be that the people who became ill did not eat what they thought, but actually, something quite putrid or poisonous wrapped in a programmed layer of what appeared to be common or known to the victim.

My role is to understand and report back what I am finding regarding this mutation. For now, though, I am quick to disappear. Back in Washington, someone has pulled a pirate veil over the city, which is an illegal façade blanketing a space, used for making a protest, entertainment, or terrorism. Today’s veil is a time-lapse of Washington over the ages; buildings rise, weather, and are disappearing. Scenes of public hangings come on and fade quickly. The changes in transportation are a blur of progress forward.

While this hijacking of reality takes place, finding your destination can prove difficult and often impossible. When I arrive at the building I am looking for, I see Ronald Reagan tending to a state event and then realize that the people or things chasing me are back. With a rub of the stone and quill, I shift form and quickly go up to the center of the building, finding an exit near the top. My escape was timely as the building was being flooded, or was it? Was it just another part of the reality distortion? As Reagan had been out of the office for many years and was obviously another part of the veil, so too was the rest of the imagery. The problem with these charades and illusions is that panic and adrenalin push the senses to accept the altered reality as actual reality even when the rational mind knows what it is seeing is not real. Under these circumstances, one might get tricked into doing dangerous things, which could lead to accidents or worse.

While I am pursued, a new, previously unknown element has been added to the organism; it is now communicating between forms. This raises the question of whether the hackers who are altering these life forms are giving them logical ability. Will they spawn new entities inheriting the knowledge to replicate forms with increasing intelligence, possibly to disrupt life as we know it? But then, how much of this is a mutation, how much is programmed, and how far and how fast can it go on before spinning out of control? The alarm sounds, and I awake.

The Old Hotel

I’m living in an old western town that hasn’t modernized although it is the present. The tallest building in town is an old five-story hotel that now operates as a gang’s operations center. This gang comprises the local government, law enforcement, and criminals. Typically, I walk the main street without incident. On one occasion, I witnessed Eminem talking with one of the gang members about how, when he first met them he was weak and intimidated and that it was that meeting that made him decide to toughen up.

The gang members are supposed to know who not to rob, but even amongst their ranks, there is corruption, and the town is becoming ever more dangerous. A friend of mine walking with two other people is picked up for questioning and taken to the old hotel. I enter the building, not knowing there is supposed to be a guard here. People I run into figure I must be someone because no one who is not a member just walks through here unescorted.

As I stroll the hallways, I become increasingly uneasy as it is obvious I shouldn’t be seeing what I am seeing and I wonder how it is I can walk along without interference. I step out on a fourth-floor balcony to find out whether the people I am looking for can be seen on the street. This vantage point offers a bird’s eye view of what is happening in town. I see two young men running up the street, popping through two different false walls in the façade of houses along the street.

This is a brave move; normally, they should not have to run and hide, but this is another example of the corruption within the gang. As I walk back into the hallway, I happen upon a man who is lifting a few thousand dollars in cash off of someone else’s desk. He looks at me, and I at him; I sense he is stealing the money; he tries to play it that he was not sneaking into or away from the desk, but I know, and I think he knows I do.

I leave the old hotel and go back onto the street, but as I walk away, it occurs to me that this guy who nicked the money got a good look at me, and I didn’t bother to take in much detail about him as I was already nervous about being there. I am afraid he is going to blame me for taking the money, and I will have a severe problem to deal with soon. I figured I had better return and explain what I saw.

This time, as I walk in, a member of the gang slaps a guard and tells him he is not doing his job and to stop me from entering like that. I am told to wait on the veranda. After some time, I began to think that this was going to be considered snitching, which is not cool either. I decided to change my plans and leave.

But the can of worms has been opened now, and as I am a half-mile back up the road, a looming figure steps up with a heavily pock-marked and shiny dark face, not saying a word. He looks at me with the words on his face, ‘Where do you think you are going?’ Without a word, I follow him back to the old hotel.

Through panic about what I’m going to tell whoever it is I am about to have to talk to, I have to make this believable as I am certain I shouldn’t talk about the money, but then it also crosses my mind that at some point they may learn about the money, come to question me about it and then wonder about the story I told them and why on this opportunity I didn’t explain the missing money. Argh, what to do? Wake up; your bladder is calling.