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Growing Connections

Despite minor coincidences between the disappearance of SCO-233 and the death of the man known as Alejandro Borges, there is no apparent connection.

Borges was born in 1953 to a United States Postal employee and his wife, while estimates put the age of SCO-233a at around 3 and a half billion years and SCO-233b at around 4 billion years, both of which are extremely rough estimates due to the unknown affects the binary relationship had had on the life of the stars which would have affected the accuracy of the calculations (the age of the relationship between the binary stars is unknown; there is no way to tell how long ago the bond was formed).

Borges was born in Omaha, Nebraska and attended Fullerton High School where he graduated Salutatorian. He attended the University of Lincoln and graduated in 1975 with a B.S. in Physics. The department records show that his test scores were slightly above average. The student records show that in the fall of 1971, while still a freshman, Borges was place on probation for being a minor in possession of alcohol on school property. After graduating, Borges secured a job working at the Sand Hill Observatory in western Nebraska. The observatory, approximately 15.3 km south of Gering, Nebraska was funded privately, and despite court requests no documents have been uncovered that would lead to the source of the funding. Borges had a total of seven colleagues whom he worked with while at Sand Hill; five of whom are deceased due to natural or ordinary causes, the remaining two, Mr. and Mrs. Johnathan Beauvoir, were classified as deceased after a tornado destroyed the observatory, apparently with them in it, on June 3rd, 2009, however their bodies were never recovered. Borges did not marry and did not have children. He published a total of three scholarly papers: “Binary Star Development in Sector SCO-A, H, and E” published inThe Astronomy Journal 1984 vol. 2, “The Gravitational Instability of Class II Binary Stars” published in The UNL Astronomy and Physics Annual 1987, and “Divine Creation in the Chaosmos: Exploration, Duration, and Potentiality” in Process May 2000; and contributed to one book;Concrescence by Reverend Alonzo J. Holladay, published in 2004. He lived in nearby Gering, Nebraska until he died on April 15th, 2009 of a brain aneurysm.

SCO-233 (also named SCO-HH7, the 7th unique binary star combination discovered by Hilbert Haggelmier, an American astronomer) was a binary star combination composed of SCO-233a and SCO-233b, two class II stars in the Scorpius constellation. Since its discovery in 1975, it had been the focus of a single scholarly paper by Haggelmier, “Binary Star Combinations ABA-HH5, ORI-HH6, and SCO-HH7” published in The New England Astronomer 1976. Beyond that, it garnered little attention until its disappearance on April 15th, 2009. There is no evidence that Borges attended to SCO-233, but it is evident that he was aware of its existence. Borges refers to SCO-233 three times in his journal; the first on January 3rd, 1982:

1/3/82 - SCO-233, 4, 17.2.2.3

The second is on August 28th, 1993:

8/28/93 - SCO-233, 4, 17.2.4.9

The third is on March 12th, 2005:

3/12/05 - SCO-233, 4, 17.2.2.9

The impact of the disappearance of SCO-233 had a moderate effect on the astronomy community. This is due in part to the little attention given to SCO-233 in the first place. Of the few people who ever observed SCO-233 and shared in its existence, none remain. Upon the death of Borges and the disappearance of SCO-233, some scientists of a skeptical disposition even question the fact that SCO-233 ever existed. However, there is nothing to prove that SCO-233 was a construction of Haggelmier’s, or that Borges partook in a conspiracy to extend the illusion. From what we can tell, SCO-233 existed as observed and ceased to exist upon the death of Borges. As far as we are able to ascertain, Borges was the last person to observe SCO-233. Additionally, there is not enough factual evidence to design a relationship any more complex between Borges and SCO-233 than what has been presented thus far. In conclusion, there is no apparent connection between the disappearance of SCO-233 and the death of the man known as Alejandro Borges.

Once and Again: Memories

It was in the eyes of a dream-stalking shaman in the forest that rests on what would become the southern border of the late Taulemon empire. Before that, it was the last word written on the decree of excommunication of Jacob McCullen. Presently it finds itself self-aware and sifting through its scattered memories. In a moment, or later, it will be of a different time, in a different place, with a different purpose.

An artist awoke from a dream and detailed the unique stripes of a tiger he had never seen. Later that day he was killed in the siege of Yorktown, and once again in a head on collision.

On a day separated by exactly 394 years from the death of William Shakespeare, PJ Freeman took a hit of marijuana and wrote that contained within his person lived the memories of innumerable souls; or perhaps he lived in them. What would be separated by a comma, a thought split and sent through space and time is pulled through existence and finds expression in a dream. The sun that rises on this morning is the same sun, and a brand new one from the one that has risen countless times before.

In 1534, Henri Berginni was executed for writing that if there was a God, it was the collective memory of every person that ever lived, and will live. And through dreams, one could tap into the memories of universe, and be one with God.

Mr. Pierson is Dead

On March 23rd 2007, a Friday, Samuel Pierson was sucked into a black hole. No one heard him scream, no one, directly, saw it happen. He was simply there one minute, and gone the next. It is said that light travels at 283,000,000 meters per second, and that past the horizon of a black hole the gravitational pull is so great that not even light, the fastest thing in the universe, can escape. Mr. Pierson was capable of running approximately 3.35 meters per second. When Mr. Pierson vanished beyond the horizon of the black hole, there was no escape. If Mr. Pierson was not torn apart before he crossed the threshold of the dark horizon, we can only imagine what thoughts were going through his head. It would have been appropriate for his life to flash before his eyes. When you are dealing with forces so powerful they can only be understood in terms of abstract formulas and numbers, worked over so that they are safe for us to handle, it is, perhaps, beyond us, and a slightly insulting request, to ask for time enough to allow our brain synapses to fire so that we can watch a replay of a life overwhelmingly opposite in every way, the black hole. It is also said that the closer one gets to the black hole, the slower time moves. This wouldn’t have allowed Mr. Pierson time to philosophize about his fate, however. Time would have flowed normally for Mr. Pierson, so that, lucky for him, his agonizing demise, while it would have stretched over a great time for an onlooker, would have flowed quite normally for him.

Since it is unlikely that Mr. Pierson had the time to comprehend the dark fate he was sucked into, he, more than likely, missed the irony that; contrary to the horizon we see now, one that fills us with a feeling of endlessness as we observe the hills rolling always into the distance (we follow them only to find more, and more and more until we exhaust ourselves on the infinitely circling and ceaseless planes), the last horizon Mr. Pierson bounded into contained only the end. I often hear the earth-babies and hippy-folks speak with their hallucinogenic tongues that nothing really dies, it is all a circle of life; we return to the earth from whence we came, dust in the wind, they say. In that sense, I assure you that Mr. Pierson is dead. In any other sense of death, I can’t be so certain.

The Life and Death of José “Father” Ramirez

It was seen as a tragedy when the final work of José “Father” Ramirez was posthumously published 17 years after his death. The public was disappointed, and the scholars were speechless. Stories surfaced shortly after Father’s death, claiming to detail his violent and disturbing demise. Most stories, deemed rumors of horrific fancy, were quickly dismissed. It was said that Father cornered one of his housemaids, bound her, raped her, and then murdered her. It was also said that, over the course of the final weeks, Father had kidnapped several homeless youth and made sacrifices of them in a bizarre satanic ritual. The details of the stories vary, but they all involve sacrifice, torture, rape and, in the end, Father, dead.

There had been murmurs for years about a lost manuscript, written in the last weeks of his life, which unlocked, not only the mystery found in the unity of his work, but also the key to his ‘sixth sense’. Like the truth of how Father spent his last weeks, the rumors of the manuscript ended up being much more rewarding than what was eventually produced. As it turned out, Father died while at home in bed, with a hospice nurse there to change his adult diapers when he had shit himself. Father, in fact, had been in an out of a coma for going on two months by the time he finally died. He certainly was in no position to write his magnum opus, his one final work which would bring together, which would complete the story, which would answer all the questions. We often forget, as we frequently get lost in ourselves, about the torture and pain, not fictionally visited upon missing children or housemaids, but that certainly weighed upon Father as he neared the end of his life. He had 60 years and some 213 publications, not including The Taulemon Dictionary which he later rejected, building up the expectations, the promise of an ultimate realization of truth, regarding that missing period of cosmic history.

He is still studied, though, in schools all over the world. There is nothing he could have done in the final weeks of his life that would have destroyed his reputation completely, or the universe that he helped us to understand. One could say, without a doubt, that the project Father had dedicated his life to, had grown, quite positively, to become something much larger than himself. Once the professional world and the educated public got over the disappointment of the final work, it was back to business as usual regarding the rest of Father’s works. There were no school closings or student riots to stop the flow of duration that he unleashed. That is, at once, both the power of his legacy, and perhaps the saddest fact of his life. He was the creator, in a way, of the world we find ourselves in; and his creation has been busy doing what he hoped it would; growing, flowing, living. But with his great accomplishment, he must have known, he would seal his fate. José “Father” Ramirez died on April 2nd 1991.

The Forgetting of Dr. Thorne

In 1999, Walter P Thorne conceived of a doctoral dissertation that would become a catalyst for an unspeakable horror. It was written, successfully defended, and released for professional dissemination and analysis without issue. His work, the culmination of a life dedicated to Philosophy and the natural sciences, garnered moderate praise, and would eventually, by means of an exhausting purge of the unthreatening thesis from the global consciousness, vanish from existence. What was contained in the 327 page dissertation is, altogether, of little importance. All that matters, or all that should concern the historian, is the decision and subsequent execution of the forced forgetting, the excessive and reckless display of power, and, for the sake of civil rights, and in order to maintain the value once placed on the concept of the individual, the name that is both irrelevant and all-important: that of Walter P Thorne.

I am unable to present dates, conversations, list of key players, or additional background to supplement my testimony. I can only share that Thorne presented, twice, his dissertation; once opposite James Lewison, author of "Medicine in Practice: 17th Century Medicine and Mind", and once more at the 23rd Annual Conference of Meta-Psychology in San Jose, Costa Rica.

I can also share that Thorne once spoke to a half-filled auditorium at an unknown university about, and this point is arguable, the late 20th century sublime. This account was told to me well after the fact by a source that I have found to be quite questionable, although the very fact the source knew of Thorne after the abhorrent incident lends either credence to the story, or deems it the ramblings of a mad man.

It is said that if a star's shrinking size nears 1.125 times its critical circumference, the central pressure becomes infinitely large and the star is squeezed into a catastrophic implosion. This is the best way, or rather, the only way that I am able to explain to you the events that I wish to convey. I, while intent on remaining outside events, must admit that I am quite unable to in this case. Nothing escapes the gravitational pull of a black hole, in the same way I am a victim of a crime whose force is beyond my resistance. What has become, not history, but anti-history, is not about Thorne; his individual character is altogether unimportant in the grand view, or story, of humanity. As a star implodes it surely must take some molecules along for a deeply disturbing, and quite unfortunate ride. And at once our past has become all about Thorne.