Uncle Bob and Aunt Sal

..."Uncle Bob is a highly respected professor in Greenwich, he teaches psychology. " Art announced with more than a little pride.

...The picture of Uncle Bob revealed an amply complacent man who peered at the world through tinted glasses, green by the looks of it. He had little of notice about his face other than his large nose, or else let us say, one noticed little about his face other than his large nose. The nose is what Frank first noticed, and he had a hard time seeing past it to the mans eyes.

..."Well, he certainly looks like a professor." Frank said wondering what Art expected him to say. After all, what was with this infernal trotting out of all Art's relatives supposed to produce in him? He resolved to make a few polite comments about each of them. No sidetracks, nothing superfluous. All the while he kept a close eye on the time, he was determined not to become too interested in anything Art said lest he miss his favorite TV shows that evening. It was imperative that this came to a close soon, otherwise they would be there all night!

..."Continue Art, its getting a little late" Frank urged his friend who had lapsed into a brown study.

..."Of course, of course" agreed Art going to the next picture. "This is Uncle Bob's lucky wife, my Aunt Sal. " (Obviously Art respected his uncle)


...Aunt Sal was apparently quite ecstatic about something, but Frank was hard pressed to discover what it was. " Why is her mouth open so wide? Did something just happen before the picture was taken?"

..."Yup, Uncle Bob and her had just connected psychically - or at least that's what they say " Art said wrinkling his nose a little " I never did put much store in those 'psychic' dating experiences, they seem a little far fetched to me. My Uncle Joe says the reason why he never got married is because his psychic girlfriend left him before they met"...

...Frank shook his head. Despite his resolutions not to interrupt Arts introductions with any rabbit trails, he felt compelled to say authoritatively, " Yeah I totally agree. Have you heard about their latest scam? Supposedly someone connected Internet and psychic dating by creating an online theme park. People payed out the wazoo to get in on opening day. Ticket prices soared - one guy spent a thousand to get his psychic girlfriend there by the online express train. Then they had the great experience of sipping e-lattes, riding the Internets first vertical roller coaster, enjoying the sensations of a lush online cruise. In the end it was proved to be a fraud, merely another 3-D vacation package with vibrating controllers. No psychic abilities, the roses he bought her smelled like lavender - that's what gave it all away."

...Frank rolled to an abrupt stop, Art was staring at him.

..."You really do watch too much TV Frank. Lets continue, next is Uncle Joe and Aunt Ann."

...Frank rolled his eyes. Humbug, his info was way more interesting than Arts deceased relatives. He glanced at his watch. Good grief, it was eight o'clock!

Arts Parents: Nan and Bill

..."My father was an undertaker, one of the few this city could boast of." Art began. Frank choked, "An undertaker! You mean he worked with dead people?"

..."No Frank, he did not work with dead people. His fellow employees were very much alive - let me assure you! He worked on dead people, preparing them for the grave." Art seemed slightly miffed, as though it were a touchy subject.

...Frank cleared his throat, "Um, did that make you - well, feel embarrassed or weird? I mean, having a dad who worked on dead people."

...A sigh escaped from Art. "Remember Frank, I was pretty young at the time. But yes, I remember feeling odd. When my dad's business was bad I felt guilty for hoping it would get better, that would mean more people died. And the other kids thought it was creepy, they avoided our house like the plague."

...Frank shook his head, "That's tough Art, and I thought I had it bad because my dad was a garbage man." A quick glance at his wristwatch made Frank eager to move on. He had a TV show to watch in just two hours. "Whats next?" he asked. "Did he bury a president or something?"

...Forget about my Dads job, he didn't bury anyone of consequence that I know of." Art said with another sigh. "My Mom on the other hand, she was amazing!"

..."What did she do?" Frank asked.

..."My mom was a laser surgeon, she specialized in extreme makeovers and delicate procedures. Why, she saved more people than my Dad buried!"

..."Probably why his business was so bad", muttered Frank, "They could have got something going there you know".

..."Good grief Frank!" Art cried, his eyes starting from his head. "My parents would never have come to an arrangement like the one you suggest, its unthinkable! I choose to believe you are joking my friend."

..."Of course I'm joking, what kind of creep do you think I am?" Frank demanded. "Besides, things like that do happen these days. Haven't you ever heard about that policewoman whose husband was a drug lord? Or the oil baron whose son was a speculator? What about that couple on TV, the husband was a recyclist and the woman a mass producer of plastic stuff; together they cooped a lot of money." (The government pays $4.00 a lb for recycled plastic material)

..."That you would even put my parents in the same category as that filth is inconceivable!" Art exclaimed. "Sometimes I wonder if your cranium is entirely okay, you probably watch too much TV."

..."How much TV do you watch?" demanded Frank.

..." Only a total of twenty hours a week, how about you huh?" Art replied.

...Frank knew he was outdone. "You beat me, I'm two hours above average at forty hours a week."

...Art snorted in disgust and then they both returned to their normal selves.

..." I won't continue with my parents story much longer, the truth is, I don't know that much about them myself. They were both pretty busy and I only saw them on the weekends, and then only a couple hours. My dad was always studying the online phone books, trying to guess when his business might get a raise. And my mom was generally consulting with patients who wanted extreme laser makeovers."


















...Art pulled up a picture of a sad looking woman. Frank thought she was nice enough, but rather depressed in her expression. As though wishing to lighten the atmosphere Art smiled and suddenly said -

..."Well, I do have a couple embarrassing memories as a kid that involve my dad. You see, the local thrift stores had certain days when seniors got a 60% discount. On those days my dad would gather hundreds of business cards (Bill's great Undertaking and Co.), myself, and a lunch for the two of us. He would drive to the nearest thrift store and take up a post at the entrance, I would guard any extra outlets and patrol the store. No one got past us. My orders were strict; bombard any senior "looking" citizens with business cards for my dads morgue. I can't tell you how embarrassing it was to approach sweet old ladies with personal invitations for grave duties - at my young age too, it seemed so presumptuous."

...Art had a hearty laugh, but Frank was shuddering. " That's disgusting Art, I cannot believe you agreed to do it."

..."Well, Dad was pretty adamant and it was 'for my good too' as he would say. Those were about the only Father/Son outings we had".

..." Well, the last thing I'm going to say about my dad has to do with my name. I was named after my great-great-great- grandpa Arthur, as you already know. But the reason I even know my great-great-great- grandpa Arthur's name was Arthur is because my dad discovered my great aunt BB through the morgue business.(And it was at a senior day thrift shop) He had never met great aunt BB before, though he had heard of her. When I was born she took to me immensely and told my dad to name me Arthur. Dad didn't want to at first, but one day he said he saw clouds in the sky which spelled Art backwards and took it as a sign. So he compromised and named me Art for short."

... Frank gave a long sigh of relief, "Are you done with your parents autobiographical speech?"

..."Funny Frank, and yes I am. On to Uncle Bob and Aunt Sal!" Art said, picking up the remote again.

..."Wait, you never told me how your parents died!" Frank surprised himself by asking.

...Art bit his underlip, "A tragic blunder involving some new fangled laser device. My mom was testing it on a plastic dummy and my dad had just arrived to pick her up from work. Something blew up and there was a fire, but I don't know the details"...

Meet the Family

...A colorful menu, spotted with photos, came up on the screen. Art clicked vigorously with the remote. "Now Frank, before I introduce you to my family let me give you a little overview."

..."Alright, say - how long do you think this is going to take?" Frank answered glancing at his watch. The time was 4:30 pm.

..."Oh this won't take long. Just let me get started!" Art assured him.

..."My family tree goes back five generations, pretty impressive for these days. My Dad Bill named me for my great-great-great-grandpa Arthur, only I'm just Art for short. There is a story which goes along with that - but we will get to it later."

...Frank listened intently, and only occasionally glanced at his wrist watch. It was only a quarter till five, besides, how long could one talk about deceased relatives anyways? Art was continuing, so Frank tried to give him his full attention.

..."My great Aunt BB is the oldest living relative I've got these days. Other than her there's Uncle Bob and Aunt Sal on my mothers side; and their awful daughter, my cousin, Kara. On my Dad's side I have uncle Joe and Aunt Ann, who are brother and sister you understand. Both of my parents died when I was ten, my Aunt BB sorta raised me"...

...Frank had not known Art was an orphan. He felt a sudden surge of pity "Gee Art, I'm so sorry, I mean, I can't imagine". The right words just wouldn't come. Art sat picking at a fraying seam in the arm of his chair. "Yeah well, things happen - they weren't much a part of my life anyways".

...There was a long moment of pause as Frank thought of his own amiable parents and Art contemplated whatever Art contemplated. "Whats so bad about your cousin Kara?" Frank asked, hoping to change the subject.

..."What a question!" Art cried, apparently relieved. "Oh Kara, she's a greenie if I ever saw one. (Greenie has replaced Blondie and tree hugger in one useful term) All she cares about is her plant "friends", her greenish hair, and her dogs manicures. I have never seen anyone so obsessed with global cooling. She wears parkas all the time; convinced that she might be caught in a blizzard some time stepping outdoors in Texas."

..."Wow, she lives in the country of Texas?" Frank commented, slightly envious of his friends out of country connections. "Yep, she lives in the United Country of Texas, and she can keep it!" Art laughed.

..."Well, where was I ? You should probably hear about each person in order, otherwise it could get confusing. I will start with my parents and work back, and out, until we get to great-great-great grandpa Arthur."

...Apparently Frank didn't have much of a say in the matter. Art did not wait for his opinion either, pulling up a picture of his mom and dad. Frank hoped this would not take too long as he leaned closer to view the screen. He found himself staring into the face of an older man, a face very unlike Arts...

Arts Family Tree

...Frank found himself entering a wide doorway into what appeared to be Art's apartment. He had just been on the most unsettling ride of his life, with crazy Art behind the wheel battling traffic. Anything could happen. As he walked through the doorway Frank could not help but feel appreciation for its ample size. (Constructors built the doors extra wide these days, to accommodate society's obese majority) Yes, Frank was a little on the wide side - but most men were fat so it did not matter. Women on the other hand were extremely skinny, rather sickly looking. Its labeled the Jack Sprat in reverse Syndrome.

...However ample Frank might be, Art was not. Indeed, looking at him Frank did not need to wonder why. The reason Art was so thin was because he was too active. Why, Frank would be appalled if he were Art's size! Besides, girls thought that fat guys were "cool" - at least this was Franks opinion. (The fact that Art had been married and he hadn't did not cross his mind) Remember reader, this is Franks ideas about things, not mine. And he lives in the twenty third century.
...Back to the story...

..."So, is this where you live Art?" Frank asked to start some conversation. Art was really starting to creep him out. "Yep, I've lived here my whole life, like my daddy and my granddaddy before me." Art replied. "You've got to be kidding me - your Grandpa lived here?" Frank gasped. "Oh yeah", Art continued while shoving a stack of pizza boxes out of their way, "And I don't even like pizza!" Frank looked disbelievingly at the stack of pizza boxes about twenty five high - even larger than his stack at home - "If you don't like pizza somebody around here sure does."

..."Somebody did," corrected Art, "It was my Grandfather". "Good grief" cried Frank, "You don't mean to tell me that you've kept them around this long!" Art smiled that queer slow smile Frank had come to know. "I'm an archeologist in some ways Frank, besides, I dare not throw them away lest I loose a clue"... "A clue to what?" Frank said, trying to comprehend his weird and increasingly weirder friend.

...Art did not answer him directly, "Sit down Frank, I want to show you something". So Frank took a seat in one of Art's overstuffed yellow arm chairs. It was comfy and he felt the urge to doze, especially when Art disappeared into another room and did not return. The clock ticked mechanically, its funny that Art should still have an analog he thought. Maybe it was just a decoration, or maybe it had belonged to Art's Grandfather and he kept it for sentimental reasons - after the pizza boxes Frank wouldn't doubt it. A fly buzzed on and on, making such a droning noise that Frank found it impossible to keep his eyes open. He fell asleep.

...Art finally emerged from his energetic rummaging in the other room, only to find that his friend was snoring. "Frank, Frank, wake up buddy" he said gently tapping his friends shoulder. Franks tired eyes flew open, "Sorry Art, I couldn't help myself!" he apologized. " No P", Art said sitting in the yellow chairs mate. "So what do you have to show me?" Frank asked. "Its my family tree, on a high definition 3D DVD." Frank was impressed, not with the fact it was 3D, but because Art had a family tree. "That's cool, how far does it go back?" he asked. "Five generations, all the way back to my great-great-great- Grandpa Arthur, the guy I'm named for."

...Art reached over, popped the DVD in and picked up a remote. Frank got the feeling that he was about to meet a whole family of Arts and wandered if he was up to it, and Art never did anything half way."Let me introduce the folks to you Frank, meet the family" Art said with pride...

Franks Parabola: Becoming an Intercept

...For a few seconds the room was so quiet only the faint electronic buzz computers make could be heard. (Even in the twenty- third century computers "buzz") Then the Boss spoke. "Whats going on boys?" he inquired in a condescending tone. Frank stole a quick look at Art, who had shoved the cell phone in his pocket and now looked positively wild.

...Since it was evident that Art either wouldn't or more likely couldn't speak, Frank cleared his throat. "I must say you gave us a bit of a start sir, we just talking about um- you!" Art made a slight sound, something like a fish out of water. "You were talking about me eh?" asked the Boss. Frank only hoped the last of his and Arts conversation had not been overheard by his Boss as he launched into an impromptu speech. "Yes, and a marvelous topic it is sir! I must say you run a tight ship around here; the floors are always spotless, the desks are immaculate, the windows well washed, the staff punctual, your picture on the wall perfectly reflects the establishment, Oh and the floors are really clean-quiet immaculate"- "Yes Frank", the Boss interrupted, "You already said that but I appreciate your approval. However you are rather quiet today Art."

... Franks head whirled, he had to intercept the Boss before Art gave them both away. From the way Art looked at that moment, Frank was sure it would only take a short second of eternity to send them both packing if he but opened his mouth. Frank saw the problem something like this.

...Imagine a coordinate graph; on it a parabola has been set in motion by the Boss between Y-intercept Frank, the vertex Art, and back up to Frank as an unknown coordinate. Now Frank would rather not find out what his other coordinate might be if the Boss met up with Art at the Parabolas vertex. In fact it is a good thing for Frank that this situation is not an algebraic equation because the answer looks messy. For now all Frank had to do was make sure that he was the vertex, not Art. (Math people will get what I'm talking about, the rest may want to pull out their dusty algebra books and review the section on Parabolas)

...Intercepting the Boss would be tricky, but Frank had to try! Art was looking more and more like a cornered cockroach and less like a respectable employee every second. "Er sir, Art is not doing so well today-yeah I think these peanuts were too roasted or something." The Boss looked incredulous "Peanuts too roasted, I've never heard of that." Frank nodded vigorously and tried to look sagacious. "O yes, there was an article about it in the International Geographic last week. In fact I'm not feeling so well myself." Frank rubbed his stomach for added effect- hoping the Boss would forget about Art.

...It worked, the Boss grew concerned. "Wow, I wonder if its serious- you know I eat peanuts myself- could I see the bag?" he asked. "Sure" Frank said handing him the package. "Oh my, the same brand! I really should go see about this" the Boss exclaimed laying his hand across his own stomach and inching toward the door. For a moment Frank wandered if he had missed his vocation, perhaps he should have been an actor. "You do that sir, I wouldn't take any chances!" he called after his Boss.

...Then he and Art were alone again. "Oh my gosh Frank, that was too close! And you were marvelous!" cried Art, speaking for the first time. "Yeah well", Frank said and was about to boast a bit about his incredible acting talents when Art jumped up. Seizing him by the shoulders Art exclaimed "Lets not waste anymore time, come on!" Frank found himself being whizzed down the hall and out the door. "where are we we going?" he gasped. "No time to talk, you'll see!" his impetuous friend cried. Art was definitely an unstable vertex.


A note to the side: I am not a "math person", at least I'm not brilliant in it :) But nor am I a "math hater", I do enjoy new mathematical concepts when they are properly explained to me. I believe I am a writer; at least I love to write! Because of this I enjoy seeing parallels between the mathematical world and real life situations.

Paranoia and Cell Phones: The Problem with Art

...Several weeks had passed since Art had begun reading the "blog". He and Frank had not discussed the matter further, and to tell the truth, Frank was not overly concerned. What Art did was arts business, he wasn't about to get involved. (That would be an expensive expenditure of precious energy)

...But today the matter was brought up again in a way which rudely jolted Franks complacency and drained his carefully reserved energy supply. Frank had just walked into his office, a bag of salted peanuts in hand, when a knock sounded on the door. "Come in" he said. The door opened and Art came in so quickly all Frank saw was the passing blur of his white face.

... "What's wrong?" Frank asked in surprise, pausing in the middle of putting a peanut in his mouth. "I just had a close call", his friend replied, "The boss thinks I'm taking too long editing the blogs I'm assigned." Art plopped down in his chair, mopped his forehead, and held out his hand for a peanut. Frank raised his eyebrow as he gave him one and sat down in his own chair, "So what?" His friend looked at him in disbelief, "So what? What kind of question is that!" The disheveled Art cried. Suddenly he looked up and scanned the ceiling, "I think the room may be tapped" he whispered.

...Frank felt himself choke on a peanut and when he recovered he could only stare at his friend. "You think the rooms tapped?" he finally blurted. "Yeah" Art said, still whispering. "Why on earth would anyone want to listen to anything you or I have to say?" Frank questioned further. Art looked a bit sheepish as he rolled his purple chair next to Franks orange one again. "Remember Frank, I'm reading the blogs!" he said in the softest voice he could muster.

...Again Frank could only stare. The seemed to be getting hot and something red flashed before his eyes as he became angry. (An unusually strong emotion in these days) "You've been reading Blogs" he cried, the small goatee on his chin quivering. "I thought you were only going to check out one Blog, now your saying Blogs plural!" Franks friend tried to hush him, "Keep your voice down Frank before someone hears you!"

..."Why should I care if someone hears me?" Frank continued even louder. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do, I'm going to march over to the Boss' office and spill the beans!" Art cried out in horror, "No Frank, don't do that!" "And why not?" Frank asked trying to calm down because he was feeling so extremely uncomfortable. "Because I've found something important, worth investigating, and if you give me away I'll never get to the bottom of it." Art said.

..." How important, what about?" Frank asked, not sure he wanted to know. "It's been passed down in my family for generations-just two words" Art began, while rolling his chair away from Frank. He opened a drawer of his desk and began rummaging through stacks of paper and candy trash. Frank had never seen the inside of Art's drawers and could not help but make a mental note that his drawers were better organized. Absent mindedly he opened up one of his own drawers for a peak and felt a glow of satisfaction that his drawers were indeed tidier.

..."Ah ha!" Art cried suddenly, and Frank jumped while slamming his drawer closed. " Here it is Frank" Art said rolling his chair over yet again. Franks friend held out an antique cell phone, well preserved for its extreme age. (People do not use cell phones anymore, they use brain cell phones which are implanted above the ear for permanent use.) " I procured a charger for it off of X-bay and keep it juiced" was Art's explanation as he flipped it open and turned it on. Frank wanted to laugh at the stupidity of its design, imagine the inconvenience of having to flip it open to use it. Art had gone to the text message screen and pulled up something. He now held it up for Frank to read the two words displayed on the screen. "Christianity Undercover".

..."What does it mean?" Frank asked. "I'm still not sure" replied Art, "But I came across a link in that blog on blogeology I showed you last week". Frank shook his head, "Why does it matter?"
"It matters to me Frank, that message has been in my family for years and no one knows what it means" Art said. "When I found a link about something similar I came across a trail, I think I'm on to something!" Art was excited now. "I can't stop reading the blogs!" he cried.

...A slight noise at the door caught there attention and they turned with their hearts in their mouths. The door swung open and there stood the boss.....

Episode 3: A Higher Integer Order

...In the twenty third century school many subjects were taught, but they were mere shadows of their former prestige. When Frank was a school boy he had been briefed on many admirable subjects, whose sole worth was in their title; such as "Algebra", "Calculus" or "English Literature", what a ring they had! But that was the end of their worth for Frank. He had fumbled through "Algebra", for example, without really understanding it, or even trying to. But at least he had the satisfaction of saying he had done it! The school world was divided into two groups; those who studied so intensely they forgot why they did so and knowledge became something of an elusive god; and those who could care less, didn't really "know", and otherwise became the majority of society. Frank fell into the last category.

...But Frank's friend Art did not. At least in Franks opinion, and he ranked Art in the "Higher Integer Order" while putting himself in the "Lower Integer Order". You may be wandering what integers and algebra have to do with Franks thought processing, but these two terms are quite possibly the only things he remembers from his algebra class. When the teacher had held up her enlarged palm pilot pointer towards the projected chalk board and announced "Today we shall look at higher and lower integers", Frank thought she had said intelligence orders. And even he was corrected on the point by a friendly classmate. he could not stop thinking of it in that way.

...Now this is not to say that Frank felt inferior to Art. In fact he secretly was proud of his own uncommon good sense, relaxed lifestyle and easy personality. Someone like Art could be tiresome, dangerous and not all the way there at times. It is at such a moment we find them now.

..."I say Frank, come have a look at this blog", cried Art from his comfortable work chair. Frank wandered if it would be worth getting out of his comfortable work chair to have a look, but Arts repeated demands caused him to get up with a sigh. Pushing a wisp of unruly brown bang out of his eyes he leaned over Art to read the blogs title, "Blogeology". Frank looked at Art who looked back at him. "Well", Frank said shrugging his shoulders. "Don't you see the date on the last post!" Art exclaimed. Frank looked down again and read the bold date at the top of the page, it read, "2008". It was odd, even Franks dense perception could gather that.

..."I thought Blogeology didn't become a branch of service until 2180" he said with a puzzled frown. "Odd! I say its more than odd!" Art exclaimed, spluttering with excitement. "Don't you see Frank, this is a fabulous find. Someone in the twenty-first century had the idea of blogeology before it was ever invented!" Franks impetuous friend said with more spluttering. " Well, I'm glad you find interest in it Art. But it looks like a normal blog to me, we are always finding this sort of thing you know" Frank answered while edging back to his seat.

...Art just sat there, stairing at the screen. Frank shook his head, here was another fine example of the downsides to being a higher integer. "Frank" Art said softly. "Uh huh" Frank answered absent mindedly, while returning to his editing of the 2008 election campaign. "I'm going to read this blog, it looks interesting" Art said. Frank snapped back into reality with a rude jolt. "What, read the blog!" he cried aghast. (For those who do not know, TSB's used a computer program which highlighted the areas to be deleted or "fixed". The program did most of the "reading" and TSB's were under solemn oath not to read the blogs if at all possable)

...Frank stared at his friend in disbelief, "You could lose your job or worse!"Art turned around to face him and wore a strange expression on his face. "I know, but I can't help it. There is so much I want to know, and no one will give me the answers. I feel its in there somewhere, just waiting for me." Frank cleared his throat, Art was in one of those moods. " Please don't tell the agency, okay Frank?" Art pleaded. Frank felt stuck, he could tell the agency, but then he would lose his only friend.

..."Alright Art, I won't tell this time but its not happening again" he said. Art smiled, and Frank went back to his work. If Frank had not been wearing his ipod delux, the size of a flea, and turned up high, he would have heard Art mutter "We will see".