Exclusive: Lonely Billionaire All Bummed Out!

After his last disastrous gig, The Inventor, architect, engineer and patent-holder — his liability for which is pending,  according to his attorneys  — of Pandora’s Box, sought solitude and silence.

His next project, The Library of Babel, was at least critically accepted, and Borges sent him a share of his own royalties, though revenue from even an anthologized short-story can’t compare to the infinite helix of data contained within, and surging without,  the Library of Babel!

He needed something.

“I need something,” he lamented. “Some thing. Gee, but what?”

Again The Inventor sequestered himself, and again his efforts bore fruit, big fruit this time, bigger than the scion of 80th-generation-seed GMOs.

“This is a thing. This is a big thing,” The Inventor dictated to his box. “Scratch that. This is a huge, world-shaking,  mega-monster giggly-goodly god- damned thing!”

He bowed to the standing ovations of audiences who would soon not be imaginary.

“All you gotta do,” he began, but checked himself to get a grip, hold back the giggles, then the tears. He continued.  “All you gotta do… is plug the Library of Babel into a fucking wall!”

And so The Inventor  sparked a galaxy of screens with knowledge; entertainment; social networks; political journals; blogs; 24/7 extremist rants and cute cuddly animals with “Cheer up, enjoy your day!” messages available in every available language and format; Big Media Conglomerate Network’s (WBMC) News Comedy Music Idol  Sports Portal, and lots and lots of quality pornography

But still, the man who brought all the word’s knowledge to the User”s fingertips (but little, if any, wisdom, which said User, the undersigned, must select from the Library’s infinite collection of data at User’s own risk; The Inventor, Inc. assumes no liability for poor judgement) was alone — though in a much, much, bigger house — and tortured, tortured, tortured. Tortured by genius — or the odd, almost intangible remorse spawned by a well-intentioned but colossal fuck-up…

Adam Engel has traveled the farthest regions of cyberspace, where Dark-matter meets Doesn't-matter; and Anti-matter, despite its negative connotation and dour point-of-view, excercises rights of expression protected by Richard Stallman's GNU/Free Software Foundation and CopyLeft agreement, if nobody and nothing else. Having spent many years studying Boobus Americanus (Summum Ignoramus), allegedly the most intelligent mammal on earth -- after its distant relative, Homo Sapiens -- in various natural habitats (couch, cubicle, bar-stool, ball-game -- televised or 'real-time') -- Engel has thus far related his observations of and experiences with this most dangerous of predators in three books -- Topiary, Cella Fantastik, and I Hope My Corpse Gives You the Plague (the combined international sales of which have reached literally dozens, perhaps as many as seventy, with projected revenue to top three digits by decade's end! Truly a publishing phenomenon). Engel is Associate Editor of Time Capsule Books, a division of Oliver Arts & Open Press, published in limited editions for a tiny, highly specified, though eclectic, target-audience: people who actually read books. He can be reached at adam@new.dissidentvoice.org Read other articles by Adam, or visit Adam's website.