Another relaxing friday night in front of the computer, thought James. Settling into his well-padded swiveling chair, he turned on the power switch. His terminal loaded immediately; He had set it to, since it was almost all he used his computer for anymore. He had forsaken what he had left of a social life in his town for the modem, as when he called boards his personality was changed, almost magically, from the shy, inverted James into the violent, outspoken Bovaline. "What board to call," James thought. He knew so many; Purple Reign, Digital Inferno, Schweppetek. Eternal Insanity, yes, that was the one. He had not called Eternal Insanity for a few days, and was already missing it. He missed the full-blown configuration the sysop, MindCrime, had set up. He missed all the messages, where he could be himself. No, not himself; He was a great actor, but while he never got on a stage in his life, he did act - Whenever he called this board, he became the great Bovaline, and he felt as though he could do anything. Could he? Sometimes he wondered. Sometimes he wanted to try things, but something held him back. He wanted to fly like a bird, most of all. He just wanted to know how it would be, the wind rushing by his face, propelled by nothing but Bovaline's powerful muscles. He knew he could never do this, but still a part of him wanted to try, wanted to just jump into the air and fly off into the sky. He was startled out of his thoughts when the modem screeched. He recognised the connect as a 14,400 connect before it even showed up on the screen, as he had memorized all the sounds a modem can make from his extensive use of them. The opening screen showed up. "Wow, he changed the welcome screen again!" It seemed as though every time he called, something changed, something that made it even more real for him, drew him further into the guise of Bovaline. He immediately entered the messages menu - That was where his friends were, and he was anxious to talk to them. The first message he saw was one telling him he was a pathetic little fuck. His veins in his forehead were close to popping out. No one, but NO ONE, treats Bovaline that way. He wrote back another flame message, and continued. The next message told him to please keep his posts on topic, or he would lose access. This was too much. He quickly pressed Alt-H and exited the terminal program, and turned off the computer. "Damn it, why couldn't people see how great I can be? Why can't they all love me? DAMN IT WHY?" Something had to be done. He was too tense. First he grabbed his squeeze-man his mother had bought for him after he throw a chair at his door, so he would have something to take out his anger on. He ripped it in half and threw it at his back wall. He knew what he had to do; He must fly. Bovaline must fly today. He walked out onto the back wall, knowing he could not do it, knowing that the great Bovaline would guide him through the air. As he stepped out onto the foot-wide ledge, he looked down, and his mind raced with second thoughts. But the thoughts were banished with one look up at the sky, he saw that the sky was his domain and he must control it, be one with it. The people below screamed; One ran for a phone. For a while he just sat there, high up above the city on his ledge. After a while he decided it was time. He got up, gathered a breath, and flew. He went up for a brief second, but quickly plummeted towards the ground. What had gone wrong, so wrong that he could not fly? He knew... He was having doubts, and that was wrong. He tried to believe, he DID believe with all his heart that he could fly. His mind flew to the clouds, he bounced on the rubbery surface of a cloud, and lay down to take a nap. He felt something on his wrist but was too tired to stay awake. He woke up in a dark room. Getting up he felt around, and discovered it was a room made of clouds. "This won't be so bad," he decided. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Mrs. Jacobson, we have some bad news for you. Your son has a rare genetic disorder, which is what caused him to jump off your apartment building. He still believes he can fly, in fact, he believes his padded room is a cloud at this very moment. But don't worry, we'll take great care of him, we're very experienced with patients of this sort." "Is there ever any hope for him," Mrs. Jacobson said between tears. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Jacobson. I'm afraid your son has no hope; his disease has given him a case of Eternal Insanity." SAUCE00'Eternal Insanity' CounterPoint Blade Productions 19940827«P