Encyclopedia Brittanica, 15th edition, 1974, three volumes. It was Mortimer Adler's attempt to, "systemise all knowledge". He was a blatant racist, when asked in a 1990 interview why his Great Books of the Western World list did not include any black authors, he said simply, "They didn't write any good books." Prat. It worries me that his work is stuck in my head. With a focussed effort I respond, "Yes, they made me memorize an entire encyclopedia."
But I digress, I tend to do that...my parents were self made late in life, obsessed with me doing well. What better way to set me up than to make me learn everything they thought. They tested me at every meal.
"Can I have some ketchup mum?"
"Of course honey, but what's the longitude of Bratislava?"
"Erm, forty seven degrees and...6 minutes north." Out came The Book.
"Sorry sweetheart, it's nine minutes north."
"...can I not have any ketchup?"
"No honey, your chips are fine as they are." She'd say reaching for the sauce.
They weren't bad people, they only wanted the best for me, just misguided. I know a little bit about everything now, makes me popular in pub quizzes, however I know a lot about nothing.
I live in Brighton now. Population: one hundred and fifty five thousand nine hundred and nineteen. I live alone. I tried living in the country for a while, get some peace, but I couldn't keep all the latin names from bursting into my brain, flora and fauna growing and humping all over the place, racing for sun and berries, trampling all over each other. The city's no better, but I don't have to look at single minded wildlife anymore, humans at least destroy themselves in more interesting ways.
In normal conversation I try to be as vague as possible, pushing the facts back down into the black of my mind. People think I'm arrogant or stoned, but the alternative just outright unnerves them so I can live with it. It means my friends are somewhat shallow though. My girlfriend thinks I'm the strong silent type. When I do say something it's always, "Wicked smart!"
It does take the zing out of sex though. "Sperm, male haploid cells containing half the random DNA recipe race down the uterus to the Ovum or egg, the female haploid cell containing the other random half of the recipe. Each egg is approximately 43 times larger than sperm cells. Unlike sperm ovum are finite, numbering around 400,000 when a woman reaches puberty, with around 1000 dying every month. Gestation lasts approximately 37 weeks and up until week 24 the fetus only has a 50% survival rate outside the womb. All fetuses initially develop gills; vestigial remnants of evolution until human DNA kicks in and they develop no further. Fish babies. Better hope the condom doesn't break. Condoms have been used for around 400 years, the original being sheep intestines, or turtle shell glans caps in Japan..."
"Honey? Honey?!" I look at her, focussing, remembering where I am, "Honey you zoned out, you haven't said anything for five minutes. What's wrong?"
"Flashback. 'Nam." The Viecong were actually a Vietnimh sect renamed by the US to aid propaganda.
"'Nam?"
"You weren't there."
Relationships can be tough.
Every so often I walk to the country, find a cliff and yell as many facts as I can, vomiting them out of my system. It can take hours until I'm spent, roaring myself hoarse, tasting blood, can't talk for days, no conversations, no questions. Lying panting on a hill I breath easy for twenty minutes, wind rushing over my skin, that stuff on the outside of my body, what does it do? System error, unable to retrieve data. I crash my own system - peace. It was lying there that I got the idea.
The first time went pretty well. Walking into the bar I spotted an ideal candidate: skin head, not too big, waiting alone for friends. I walked straight up and pushed him, I expected him to hit me immediately but I guess this just hadn't happened to him before. He blinked at me. I pushed him again and called him a puff. Right arm pulls back, locks into position, aim calibrated, the arm pistons forward leading with the shoulder, connects with temple, you know 37% of broken fingers are a result of punching someone. I hit the ground and try think of Bratislava's GDP...nope, nothing. He walks off disgusted, I take it in intensely, not analyzing a thing, just a man walking away from someone he punched in the head. I grin to myself and enjoy the growing warmth on the side of my head.
I stood up twenty minutes later having been carried to the pavement by bouncers. My balance was a bit off but I was hooked, heh, right hooked. The next one didn't go so well though, same set up, but on his second punch (this guy was more aggressive) he slipped on a beer bottle and cracked his head, hospitalized for a month. I lay gawking, right eye swelling fast. People saw it, knew I hadn't floored him, but picking fights isn't socially responsible behaviour. And that's how I ended up talking to the counselor: compulsory court sentence.
"As a child, your parents forced you to memorize an entire encyclopedia?"
"...Yes, they made me memorize an entire encyclopedia."
"You poor thing, tell me about it."
"That's asking a lot, you know how much is stuck in my head? How many volumes?"
"That's fine, I love to learn. I'll stay as long as it takes." She smiles, a slight blush.
"Whatever you say doctor"
"Kate, call me Kate."
"OK Kate, let me tell you about Bratislava."
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