Oh my. It appears we need ANOTHER ending

Young woman (college age) scours flea markets looking for digital cameras and the occasional memory card. She uses the more interesting photos in her art projects. She finds a little point and shoot and buys it, even though she can’t seem to call up any photos.

Later that afternoon she gets the camera to turn on and finds just two photos. One is an amazingly realistic image of the World Trade Center Towers in mid-collapse. The date and time (the following morning) appear in the lower right-hand corner.

Gruesome, but damned good Photo Shop work. She emails it to an art school friend who is equally impressed. Can’t see how it’s done and he can ALWAYS see how it’s done. Really bugs him.

The next morning the world changes forever. She goes back to her apartment and calls up the image on her laptop. The same image she see from her apartment window. Whoa.

The phone rings and it’s her friend from art school.

“What the fuck!? Where did you get that picture? Where did you get a fucking picture of something before it happened.

[later at friends apartment]

Young Woman wants to take the photo to the police. Hold on, says Friend. How can you explain having that photo. No way, have to think this through. Was that the only photo on the camera, asks Friend?

Young Woman pulls up the other image. It’s a store front with a selection of cameras displayed. One is circled in red. But nothing to indicate where the shop might be.

[We’ll fast-forward a bit and assume they see a street sign or address in the reflection or something like that]

They buy the camera and jump back in the car to take a look. Again, two photos. One a disaster (make it as big and as bad as you like) with date and time stamp for a week from that day.

They have to figure out where the disaster is going to take place and how to stop it. I’ll bet real screenwriters have a name for this kind keep-the-plot-moving writing. This sequence repeats a few times with the girls preventing some and not others.

The final camera only has one photo. Of the Friend shooting Young Woman in the head with a large handgun.

Regular readers know that this is where I stall out. No ending. No way to wrap things up. That, class is your assignment. To the comments!

PS: This is only a little like a story idea I posted a couple of years ago.

Pill to erase bad memories

I first wondered about this back in 2004. A couple of years later, 60 Minutes did a segment on one such drug. Now Dutch researchers claim to have erased bad memories by using ‘beta-blocker’ drugs, which are usually prescribed to patients with heart disease.

“The astonishing treatment could help sufferers of post-traumatic stress disorder and those whose lives are plagued by hurtful recurrent memories. But British experts said the breakthrough raises disturbing ethical questions about what makes us human. They also warned it could have damaging psychological consequences, preventing those who take it from learning from their mistakes.”

Would I take such a pill? I think I might. I haven’t experienced more than my share of pain or trauma but if I’m a better person for it, I’m hard pressed to say how.

“But you are YOU because of the sum of your experiences, smays.com,” one might argue.

Yes, and I’d just be a different person if I took the pill and erased the memories. In fact, maybe I did take the pill. I wouldn’t remember, would I?

And before we leave this topic… how is this different from taking pills that alter our perception of this moment (Valuium, anti-anxiety meds, etc)?

Shredded memories

Tornado2

My friend David, who lives in southwest Missouri, found some… I hate to call them scraps or debris… shredded memories from the weekend tornadoes that hammered parts of four states.

He posted them to his blog in hopes someone might recognize the photo and help get (what’s left of) it back to the owner.

Regular readers of this blog know I loves my photos and I keep iPhoto backed up nightly. And I take great comfort in having many of them on flicker or embedded in a post here.

If you have a shoe box full of photos but lack the time, tools or patience to scan them… send them off to one of the many services that will do it for you. I’d add: then hire a high school kid to put them up on flickr, but a lot of folks are just not comfortable with that. But it give me great comfort knowing mine are safely floating in cyberspace.

When the time comes, I’m going to figure out a way to see that they stay up (out?) there after I’m gone.

Life After Death

“A must read for everyone who will die.” That’s how one reviewer describes Deepak Chopra’s “Life After Death.” I ordered the book after seeing Dr. Chopra on The Colbert Report. The title pretty much describes the book which got a fair amount of highlighter (my measure of good non-fiction). Here’s one graf from page 239:

“In spiritual terms the cycle of birth and rebirth is a workshop for making creative leaps of the soul. The natural and the supernatural are not doing different things but are involved in transformation on separate levels. At the moment of death the ingredients of your old body and old identity disappear. Your DNA and everything it created devolve back to their simple component parts. Your memories dissolve back into raw information. None of this raw material is simply recombined to produced a slightly altered person. To produce a new body capable of making new memories, the person who emerges must be new. You do not acquire a new soul, because the soul doesn’t have content. It’s not “you” but the center around which “you” coalesces, time after time. It’s your zero point.”

I’ve never studied or researched reincarnation, but I’ve always had a curiosity about and openess to the idea. In 1988 I wrote:

“As I think about the idea of a past existence, I feel a fondness for this “earlier me”. A sense of gratitude for whatever spiritual progress he was able to achieve. At the same time, I feel a sense of anticipation or expectation for my “next life”. And some responsibility to that future self. I’d like to move him (or her?) along as far as I can on this “cosmic lap.” To move him closer to…a perfect consciousness? Nirvana?”

“Mixed in with all of that is a sense of relief that I don’t have to complete everything in this lifetime. This is not the only shot I’ll get. And this awareness is vital because we all know –consciously or subconsciously– that we won’t “get it all done” in a spiritual sense. We hope (and work) for progress but a single” lifetime seems hopelessly short.”

Upon rereading the full post, I’m struck by how close I got (to Dr. Chopra’s explanation), given my complete ignorance.

I confess I could never stretch my common sense and logic (and faith?) around many of the stories in the Bible. And my recent read of Richard Dawkins’ case for atheism (The God Delusion) didn’t convince me. But I really enjoyed Life After Death and will read more by Dr. Chopra.

60 Minutes segment: A Pill to Forget

In May of 2004 I posted: “If you experienced the worst day of your life… something truly horrible…and there was a drug that made you forget the previous 24 hours, would you take it? If not, why?”

Last Sunday on 60 Minutes, Lesley Stahl did a segment titled “A Pill to Forget?” From the 60 Minutes website:

“If there were something you could take after experiencing a painful or traumatic event that would permanently weaken your memory of what had just happened, would you take it?”

Turns out there is such a pill. Sort of. It’s called propranolol, a medication commonly used for high blood pressure … and unofficially for stage fright.

It turns out our memories are sort of like Jello – they take time to solidify in our brains. And while they’re setting, it’s possible to make them stronger or weaker. It all depends on the stress hormone adrenaline. Propranolol seems to make the memories less intense.

The people in the 60 Minutes story had no trouble answering the question I posed back in 2004: Hell yes!

Pick one memory

Jonathon Delacour on the movie After Life.

“The premise of After Life is simple. Every Monday, people who have died walk through an open doorway suffused with pale light into what looks like a derelict boarding school. Each is issued with an ID number and assigned to a counselor who will assist them in preparing for the journey to the other side. Much of the film is taken up with these counseling sessions, which commence with an explanation of the rules:”

You’re going to stay here for a week. Everyone gets a private room. Please feel at home. But while you’re here there’s one thing you must do.

Out of the __ years of your life, we’d like to ask you to choose one memory, the one you remember and cherish most. There is a time limit. You have three days to decide.

After you choose your memory, our staff will recreate it on film as exactly as possible.
On Saturday we’ll show the films to everyone. The moment the memory comes back to you most vividly, you’ll go on to the other side, taking only that memory.

Via Halley’s Comment