Robert Petrigliano   Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States
"The case," he said, "is now immaterial, but there was a witness... a witness... a man called... called Prak. A strange and difficult man. They were eventually forced to administer a drug to make him tell the truth, a truth drug."

His eyes rolled helplessly in his head.

"They gave him too much," he said in a tiny whimper, "they gave him much too much." He started to cry. "I think the robots must have jogged the surgeon's arm."

He shook his head loosely from side to side, helplessly, sadly, his eyes screwed up in pain.

"And when the trial continued," he said in a weeping whisper," they asked Prak a most unfortunate thing. They asked him" --he paused and shivered-- "to tell the Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth. Only, don't you see?"

He suddenly hoisted himself up onto his elbows again and shouted at them.

"They'd given him much too much of the drug!"

He collapsed again, moaning quietly. "Much too much too much too much too..."

"Oh, he told it all right," said the man savagely, "for all I know he's still telling it now. Strange, terrible things... terrible terrible!" he screamed.

"Terrible things, incomprehensible things," he shouted, "things that would drive a man mad!"

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Delusions of negation
"I happen to find a certain appeal in the conviction that one is, though otherwise lucid, nevertheless already dead. Provided there were no uncomfortable symptoms of rigor mortis cramping up my hands, nor delusory devils biting at my feet, how liberating it would be to be able to write like a dead man and without that hobbling, hesitating fear of being unblinkingly honest. Knowing that upon publication I would be tucked safely away in my tomb, I could finally say what’s on my mind. Of course, living one’s life as though it were a suicide note incarnate (yet remember this is precisely what life is, really, and I would advise any thinking person to stroll by a cemetery each day, gaze unto those fields of crumbling headstones filled with chirping crickets, and ponder, illogically so, what these people wish they might have said to the world when it was still humanly possible for them to have done so ) is an altogether different thing from the crushing, unbearable weight of an actual suicidal mind dangerously tempted by the promise of permanent quiescence."
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prak Jan 4 @ 5:15pm 
"I like to imagine how I would do my job if my only standard for the quality of my work was 'what I am doing is not explicitly a crime.'"
prak Oct 19, 2018 @ 8:34am 
"You can't think this is dumber than it is and then it gets really sinister."
prak Sep 26, 2018 @ 10:04pm 
"My running theory is that the Hadron Collider created a black hole and switched our normal timeline with this one."
prak Mar 19, 2018 @ 12:04pm 
"Fired eleventh torpedo. Hit. No effect. This torpedo hit well aft on the port side, made splash at the side of the ship, and was then observed to have taken a right turn and to jump clear of the water about one hundred feet from the stern of the tanker. I find it hard to convince myself that I saw this."
prak Mar 5, 2018 @ 6:43am 
"I don't know how else to put this; flying assassin droids."
prak Mar 3, 2018 @ 10:50am 
"It was more like a cautionary tale for existing."