Monthly Archives: October 2013


There was a people who were ruled by a just leader and they had as well a unique form of punishment. Whilst others might have resorted to the death penalty, these people had something else.

That something else was what they called the Round Cube, also known as the Token of Madness.

I assure you it is absolutely impossible to grasp the idea of the Round Cube, let alone imagine it. This is my best attempt at describing it:

It takes the physical appearance of a cube, a perfectly solid cube made of some hard material, probably wood. Yet when you hold it, it feels like a sphere. You look at your hands clasped firmly around the corner of the cube, yet your hands tell you they feel a smooth surface. It is something the mind simply cannot comprehend. Most people, when put in a room with the Cube, eventually cannot resist the temptation to hold it.

Most of them go mad as their minds try feebly to make sense of something that just cannot make sense. A few, however, managed to keep their sanity through sheer mental strength. A very small few. In fact, only two people have walked away sane after interacting with the cube.

The first person is, of course, the man who created it. By what means we do not know, except it took him years of seclusion and hard work. His name is Famfhurst.

The second person is… yours truly. For what crime I was punished for I cannot tell you, but I can afford to say this:

It is my duty, till the end of my life, to be in the room, uncover the cube, and watch the sentenced person till he loses his mind. Then I cover the Cube, escort the man out, and return to my quarters. There, I must be ready to attend another sentencing within ten minutes’ notice, as well as talk about the history of the cube and explain what it is to people like you.

There is, of course, much more to the story, but I’m afraid my time here is up. See that guard there behind you? That means I have to be present for another sentencing.

Such is my life, staring madness in the eye, day in, day out, always on the brink of losing it, but never weak enough to slip and fall.

I wish you a pleasant journey, stranger.




My trusted friend,

I hope this letter reaches you in good health. It has been so long since we last wrote and I am happy to hear of your success in Turkey. That you should get wind of The Device was a little surprising, yet what can elude you? I received your telegram not a day ago and immediately began writing my reply the moment I was met with a window of free time. I hope this answers all your questions:

It is indeed hard to comprehend but I shall attempt to describe the fascinating invention of Dr. Frank Oumvach, before the unfortunate Fire wiped everything away, including blueprints and the inventor himself.

As we all know, language acts as a limitation to thought. An irony, yes, but very true. Dr Oumvach was an extremely ambitious person who constantly challenged to improve himself and the world around him, so it came as no surprise to everyone when he proposed his device: a device to block out the linguistic faculties of our Brain, completely numbing the rest of the brain to its existence. What he hypothesized was that when the Brain forgot about that part, the freed up ‘resources’ could then be redistributed to other parts of the brain. In addition, he postulated that there existed another ‘plane of thought or existence’, one where ideas manifested as purely ideas; free from the shackles of words, yet free to morph into imagery.

It took much time (and a few accidents) but in the end he got the machine to work! The only unfortunate thing is that the Fire happened just after the completion of the first test.

I remember vividly how Dr. Oumvach yelled his experience to me, shared his thoughts and as much details as he could, as we crawled, coughing, through smoke and heat to get to freedom. In my fright and panic I could not help but feel so amazed at his dedication to his work.

Alas he was struck by a falling banister which ended his brilliant life. It was at that moment that I swore to bring all the information he had left me with, out to the world, and do my very best to reconstruct his device.

It has been a year now and progress is slow… that is, until I went back to the old mansion. As I walked carefully through what remained of the building, I came upon that very spot where he had died. I did not recognize it all at once, but there it was, I was sure of it.

I was so sure because I heard my name being whispered, yet there was no one around. At the same time it was unmistakable, the pronunciation of my name, that could only have come from the tongue of Dr. Oumvach. Yet how was that possible?!

I was terrified yet excited and after steadying my nerves, approached the spot again. There it was! My name! I heard it so clearly.

‘…Dr. Oumvach?’ I tested

‘Good! Quick…lab,’ came the reply.

I had no reason to hang around so I made my way there as fast as I could.

And there it was, in the darkness of the basement, a whisper. Like I said, language is extremely limiting, and you now have the unfortunate position of being the recipient of an incomplete idea transmitted through the written word. I cannot think of any other way to describe it, except that I saw a whisper.

I approached it, and it ‘spoke’.

It was Dr. Oumvach… or at least a part of his mind. I use the word ‘spoke’ loosely because there were no words, rather immediate understanding as I stood there waiting. I was made to understand that the device had unbound the ‘essence’ of his mind. Free from dependancy on his body, it attached itself to the fabric of that spot of space, to remain coherent. And from that spot it could reach out weakly to nearby areas, influence the minds of creatures around, but ultimately, could only Understood minds when they were near enough.

Yes, I have decided to call that process Understooding, as I find no better way to represent that amazing phenomena.

Barely five minutes had passed and I was equipped with the knowledge needed to reconstruct the device.

By the time this letter reaches you I should be ready to begin the first phase of tests. I apologize if my writing began to sound hasty towards the end, but I have just been summoned back to the lab; a component has failed and although a minor setback, I cannot help but feel anxious. I am extremely eager to complete rebuilding the Device and I think our years of friendship leaves you not at all clueless as to how I tick.

I really hope you can make it here soon, there will be much to discuss and more discoveries to be made.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours always,

Krem Schteinger



I step into the gym and the bars and weights and benches are usually like they were the last time. The olympic bar is still 20kg; no change there. The squat rack stands quietly at the corner. I pick up a 5kg dumbbell and it feels light. It used to be quiet a weight in my scrawny hands. I’m not big now but wow this 5kg feels light. In my head I’m telling the dumbbell ‘Man, you’ve gotten lighter!’ and it replies ‘No, I never changed, you’ve gotten stronger’ and the conversation in my head probably stops there.

The 20kg plates will always be 20kg plates and I know how many to add for what exercise. I can always count on the weights, they never let me down. They sit at their spots waiting for me to pick them up. I’m the only one who changes, a different person every time I step into the gym.

The weights never let me down. I enjoy being in their presence. I hope they enjoy my presence too, even though I can’t stay the same. I hope I’m not a hypocrite. I enjoy being able to count on them, I really do, I hope they stay that way always.