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The Hogs of Entropy 0662
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #662
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "The Death Of Mogel"
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
888 888 888 888 888 " by Oregano
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 5/31/99
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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Mogel sits under a hot Arizona sun. Before him is a calm swimming
pool, the surface smooth and untouched. No wind ripples it, no swimmers
splash it.
Mogel stirs for a moment and as he reaches for his drink -- mostly
melted ice in a watery iced tea -- he knocks over his bottle of heart pills.
The plastic pill bottle does not come open but the cylinder rolls off the
table and away from Mogel. The sky today is blue and once again there are
no clouds. Mogel makes no motion to pick up his pills, he knows they will
be there later and he takes a sip of his iced tea, now somewhat warm, the
top of the drink almost completely water. The lemon slice on the rim
brushes the side of his nose and makes it sticky.
Mogel coughs up part of the drink, he wheezes a bit to clear his
throat, but the iced tea has gone down his windpipe. In a rush to get air
he reaches out with the glass of iced tea with his left hand, trying to set
it on the table without looking; at the same time he balls his right hand
into a fist and coughs into it, trying to dislodge the little bit of iced
tea. Mogel has gotten old and not everything works the way it used to back
when he ran the most important ezines in the GloBalNet; back then Mogel had
real power. The tiny Internet where he first tested his wings was nothing
compared to his iron fist control of GloBalNet. People feared Mogel. Now
no one fears him and just taking a sip of iced tea is more trouble than he
can really handle.
[-----]
When the internet was in its heyday Mogel ruled its literary scene.
All sorts of ezines abounded, many had been started by Mogel then passed on
to other editors but Mogel had a vision of something larger that could not
be contained in electronic text. His vision grew so large that the internet
could not contain it. Mogel created GloBalNet and the world changed
forever. Often it was said that what Mogel really created was meaning.
Meaning for all 13 billion people on planet Earth who structured their day
around editorial content shaped my Mogel himself. He found the best authors
and gave them a forum well beyond what the most popular internet authors
had. He shaped the way information was created and distributed, moving
beyond text, Mogel merged words and sound and moving images until all were
one constant stream of information that people grew to rely on, eventually
letting it take over their lives. People were happier, they could find hope
in the GloBalNet; crime dropped, why steal when you can find the answers to
all your problems for free and so lovingly; no more hate and racism, the
information flowed so freely and so full of truth and power that those who
in the past would have been uneducated now saw the burning light of reason.
Satisfaction was the order of the day, Mogel found content for everyone no
matter how grand or how seemingly insignificant they were. Mogel gave and
gave and his empire reached every household on the planet.
But things fall apart, centers don't hold, and anarchy was loosed
upon GloBalNet. Mogel created the world as everyone knew it, but he had
still larger dreams. He walked away from GloBalNet. Would the world wither
away?
Instead of collapsing, the world slumped for a bit but kept running.
Mogel moved to Arizona to put together his larger plan.
The world moved on too.
The warm Arizona air softened Mogel's sharp edges. The clear skies
proved too empty a canvas to paint his dreams on, no ideas would stick and
at the end of each day all his thoughts had run off into a pile of mush at
his feet. Eventually Mogel no longer cared to clean up the mess and he
stopped letting the thoughts come out.
[-----]
Now Mogel sits by the pool whose surface is perfectly still,
unblemished. The sky above is perfectly clear and the sun beats down on
Mogel. A large sun umbrella is centered over the table but it does not
shade him, it was set this morning for an earlier sun, but the sun marched
forward and now attacks at a different angle leaving Mogel in its full
glare. The heat is too much and his chest begins to hurt. He reaches
toward the table, searching for his pills, but only manages to knock over
his watery iced tea.
He gets up slowly when he can't find the pills, you can hear the
strain, like an old machine that needs oiling, all the creeks and groans.
He is confused for a moment as to why he is standing. Then he looks around
and sees the pills just ahead of him and he takes a step forward. His
stride is a little too swift for his slowed mind and his sandal kicks the
pills forward and they roll into the pool. He bends over to reach the
bottle as it floats within arms length and he tumbles in, arms flailing: a
big splash. Phlegm sticks in his throat and his yell is only a gurgle. He
knows it is too late. These waters which a moment ago were so still now
rage and storm and grab at Mogel pulling him under.
After his lungs fill with water. And before all turns forever black.
Mogel wonders if anyone will care and if anyone will remember all that he
helped to create.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #662 - WRITTEN BY: OREGANO - 5/31/99 ]
