The Imaginary Revolution: Chapter 1

Shhh ... Coming Oct. 15, and you will also be able to hear chapters on Uncle Warren's Attic, thanks to Warren Bluhm the podcaster. Let me know if you happen to find this — and let others know. Viral marketing, doncha know.

The Imaginary Revolution

TENETS OF IMAGINARY PHYSICS
1. The power of the imagination is unlimited.
2. Matter still can’t be created or destroyed.
3. What’s done is done.

Chapter 1. The matter of the cookies.

Let’s get one thing straight from the start: Despite everything that’s been written about him — and most of it is true — Raymond Eric Kaliber was not a saint. He probably would be the first one to tell you that. But what he managed to show about the need for bosses probably qualified him for sainthood in half the religions in the galaxy, and the other half are the religions for people who are clueless to begin with, if you don’t mind my saying so.

Who am I to say so? I’m somebody whose opinion matters — but don’t take my word for it. See, that’s just the beauty of what Ray had to show us. I only met him once during his lifetime, although I saw and heard him speak as much as anyone who was alive then, and I’ve done a lot of reading and studying, so what I’m going to tell you about in this book is my educated opinion. Still, you’re not going to get the complete picture of Raymond Kaliber from one darn book, so go educate yourself about the man and draw your own conclusions.

“I think I’m onto something,” Kaliber would tell anyone willing to listen, “but never take one guy’s word for anything. Check it out yourself.” The good news for Sirius 4 is enough people checked it out to make a difference in the long run.

It’s common knowledge that Ray Kaliber and Badiah Sinclair were childhood buds, so it’s a little strange that the cookie incident isn’t more widely known, but heck, it gives me something to start my book with, so I’m not complaining.

Raymond Eric Kaliber was not one of the first babies born on Sirius 4, so his childhood was fairly unremarkable. Other than the reading he started doing when he was a teenager, there’s not much to say about his youth. He wasn’t abused by his parents, didn’t get into massive trouble although he did the usual stuff that kids do — the same mistakes you and I made with the opposite sex and a few products and activities that young people are supposedly too young to handle. What I’m trying to say is that Ray Kaliber was no more or less a saint than any of us. I suppose he and Badi spent a little more time playing with ImagGames than many kids — like many future leaders, they were a bit nerdy. Nothing wrong with that, I say; all that reading and game-playing and such probably made them more ready to do the kinds of things they would be doing later on.

They were close to inseparable for a few years there, starting when they both were around 8 or 9 years old, and I think the cookie incident must have happened when they both were about 12. I’m thinking that because it wasn’t enough to break their friendship, so they must have had enough good times built up that one nasty thing wasn’t going to make them not-buddies. Still, it changed things pretty much forever, and in the long run that’s a good thing. Think of how much different history would be if Ray Kaliber ended up on Badi Sinclair’s side.

Hey, I’m getting way ahead of myself, aren’t I?

They were both around 12. Ray Kaliber was on his way home from the store with a container of cookies. You know those huge chocolate chip cookies bakeries make, the ones that are so sweet and just a little crunchy and the chocolate chips kind of explode in your mouth? Yes, those cookies. Ray had bought a sixpack of them and was walking home along one of the main corridors.

In those days the encampment at Sirius 4 was already pretty darn sprawling. In fact, even though outsiders still referred to it as “the encampment at Sirius 4,” it really was a medium- to larged-sized city, and in fact there were already more than one of them. This was less than 20 years before Sirius 4 declared its independence, and the Powers That Be were already thinking of themselves as more of a small country than a colony, even though of course it was all indoors. No one was forcing the issue either way, so it didn’t matter that much at the time. But anyway, Ray was walking down one of the main thoroughfares when his little buddy Badiah Sinclair caught up with him.

“Hey, are those cookies?” Badi asked after the usual kid pleasantries were exchanged. You know, “Hey, I finally figured out how to get past the ogre who guards the dragon nest, you have to offer him a blah blah blah,” that sort of thing.

“Yeah,” Ray said, prying open the plastic. “You want one?”

“Absolutely.” And then, after a few bites, “We need to share these with the guys.”

“Can’t, sorry, I told my sister I’d bring her a couple, and the others are for Mom and Dad.”

“Screw that, the guys need them more,” Badi said calmly enough.

“No, they don’t,” Ray replied firmly. “I bought these for my family.”

“Your family can have cookies anytime, the guys can’t,” Badi said. That much was true; their friends were less fortunate — although their parents had made the journey to Sirius 4, which wasn’t cheap in those days, so “less fortunate” is a relative term. “It would be a treat for them.”

“They’ll be a treat for my family, too,” young Raymond said. “And anyway, they’re my cookies. I bought them with my money. I decide who gets ‘em.”

Now, that was an odd thing to set Badiah Sinclair off into a rage, but that’s exactly what happened. “Just give them to me,” he said, giving his friend a good shove. When Ray didn’t hand over the cookies, instead looking at Badi with a mixture of hurt and surprise, young Mr. Sinclair made a fist and slugged his friend. Then he slugged him again, and again. The box of cookies landed on the floor, but Badi Sinclair kept slugging, quietly and efficiently.

Ray Kaliber didn’t slug back. He’d say later it just didn’t occur to him to meet violence with violence, even then. He did put his hands up to deflect the blows from the slightly taller boy.

“What are you doing, Badi?” he said in between flinches.

“Teaching you a lesson about being selfish,” Badi replied between blows.

When it ended, Raymond Kaliber was sitting awkwardly against the wall, breathing hard and coughing a little bit, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Badiah Sinclair, also breathing hard but standing, was reaching over to pick up the plastic box of cookies.

“I’m sorry, Ray,” he said with sincerity in his voice. “You should have just shared the cookies.”

“I was gonna,” Ray snapped back. “It wasn’t your decision who I shared with."

“Well, now it is,” Badi said, holding the box firmly in his hand as he walked away to bring a treat to their less fortunate little buddies.

Raymond Sinclair watched his friend’s back.

“You’re still wrong,” he called down the corridor.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Badi had a point. Right or wrong, he had the cookies now and was going to use them for “the greater good.” Ray hadn’t resisted, and that made Badiah feel sort of bad. The way their friends’ eyes glowed when they saw the cookies made the crummy feeling go away, though.

See what I mean? Everything about how Raymond Kaliber and Badiah Sinclair lived their grownup lives is pretty much encapsulated in that one incident. Life philosophies summed up in a fight between a couple of 12-year-old boys over a half-dozen cookies. You’d almost think I made it up, it’s so perfect, except Ray would tell that story himself from time to time. That’s why I’m surprised it’s not general knowledge, but like I said, that way it gave me a good place to start the book. Otherwise I’d be starting the story 15-20 years later and without a decent metaphor.