The Block Heads Of Logic

The Court of Logic, the capitol of the logic center of my brain. At one point in time, it was the most powerful building of the city. There, daily courtroom sessions would occur; a random thought would be brought forth to the set of judges ... The Egos.

Now, regarding Freud's theories, The Ego is designed to be the logical focal point of the process that happens in the brain. In most cases, the Ego is represented as a singular entity, however in my brain it is a system of block like men and women dressed in grey suits, black suits and judge uniforms. The greys, as they were called, brought forth information. The men in black debated about the information. Finally, the judges called a final verdict. In some way, this court system worked like a stock trade; blockish men and women fought and yelled over buzzers and hammers.

The block building was made with sturdy brick and metal. Even though it was one floor, the building was large and square in nature. No windows existed in the court. The ground was made of cheap immitation grass, mostly plastic. No trees stood around the perfectly square building.

I flew through the rain and landed just outside the door. There, hanging above the black reflected glass door was a flag pole that extended out. Hanging from the flag pole was the black and yellow logo that my false self and I created. It sat soaked in the rain that I had caused from the previous fight with Rage.

My hat and clothing had also been soaked, I had to change, which was more of a blessing than a curse. If I, Ray Homan dressed as The Night Author, walked into the block system, I would have caused a stir. I already had a feeling that the Egos were in an uproar and a the verge of exploding, as Egos do when they are stressed. If I walked into the building looking like my false self, the entire building could have exploded and I would be to blame for the damage caused in the real world.

Unlike my false self, I had the gift of imagination. In the world my brain existed, it was a sense of control I had over things in my head. Granted, I had lost the use of this power in the earlier days, but after that serge of energy from Abba, I knew then that I could control the power of imagination a little more than I used to.

I created, from my concentration, a square box of yellow light that ran down my body like a scanner. My hat disappeared; my round shape became square with pixelation. My blue shirt turned purple and my tie remained black. My slacks and newly acquired suit jacket turned grey. The grand finish was a pair of pixelated reading glasses to replace my sun shades.

With a skip to my walk, I bounced inside this system. I was unaware what I was about to walk into, however I knew without a shadow of doubt that my Egos were in a rush trying to pass the new laws my false self was pushing.

Sure enough, I walked into a chaotic situation. The courtroom was filled with all sorts of scattered papers and block men and women body parts. Egos were exploding left and right of me as I entered the square courtroom lined with the yellow and black logo.

"Should we wear a red shirt today?" Asked one of the greys to my right.

Two men in black jumped into the arguement without question.

"Red is the sign of evil." Said one in a monotoned voice.

"Red goes good in the fall." Suggested the other.

Back and forth, the two went at it. After a moment, a judge pointed his gavel at the two. "Red shirt it is."

Was this what they were really deciding? What colored shirt my outward body should be wearing? Seemed too much of a little problem for the Egos to decide.

That was one situation, over the entire building, Egos fought against each other and judges would swoop in to give out a verdict.

"Is that woman looking at us to date?"

"Are we too fat?"

"Should we be kind to that elderly man sitting next to us?"

Back and forth these meaningless questions would come from the fast moving greys. It was very interesting to see how the Egos worked. I had never seen them work like this.

"Should we write poetry?"

"Should we shape up for fame?"

"How do we get fame?"

"What is fame?"

"Why are they more famous than us?"

"Will anyone like us?"

"Why does anyone like us?"

When these questions came in by the dozens, I noticed there were much more exploding from the Egos than before. These were the questions that caused them to explode because there was no answer. There was no final verdict.

"Why is our head too big?"

"Are people making fun of us because our head is too big?"

These questions were designed to distract the Egos from asking something important like, "What can I do to make someone smile?" They were too many questions that could not be answered and thus they were distracting the Egos, causing them to explode.

As I made this conclusion, the room went dim for a couple of minutes. As the lights dimmed, a black fog emerged in the middle of the scattered papered room. The fog swirled and then formed into ... Him!

It was he ... I mean me ... Well the false me that is. Standing six feet tall, glamorized by the solid black talored suit complete with expensive red tie. His black fedora was perfect, no dirt or dust covered his like mine. His shades were expensive, but there was something different about them. At one point in time, his shades were a perfect version of my own eighties square ones, but now they were designed with complex angles. His goatee was perfect and in his lips was a cigarette.

The Egos stopped and circled him. I approached at the same speed as to not cause any suspicion.

"Greetings, Egos." He said with a sinister charm. "I have come to export a decision made without your consent. The logo ... It has been changed."

The pixelated logos hanging on the walls turned black and red text appeared with two letters: N A. These letters weaved into each other perfectly with a cursive font.

He smiled with his sharp teeth exposed to the dim light. "We are no longer writing books, because we all know that being an author is not working out for us. From now on, our fame is in video."

Video recording? Did he mean vlogging? Although I saw the fun in the vlogs, I never thought of them as a main course to our being. We were an author, not some kind of vlogger.

He gave a sinister laugh. "We need to find the means to make our vlogs more powerful, more funnier and more sexier. Find those means and get back to me. That is all."

His horrible frame disappeared into a fog and the room lit up again.

Now the Egos were exploding around me. They knew the stress that went into my vlogs. We had to cover title, meaning and what the vlog was about. Since we lacked the money to pay for actors or special equipment, the vlogs would ever be me sitting in front of a camera phone, feeling like an idiot. However, the Egos were not interested in my feelings. They had to go by hard facts.

The false Night knew they were not able to go against my intent talent. They knew they could not change my point of view over night. This was going to cause stress and distraction. Along with Rage's clouds of confusion and the stress the Egos felt, chaos would reign!

I slid forward like the other cubical informants. "Why have a vlog?" I asked.

Two men in black suits slid infront of each other.

"A vlog is intended to be a video log."

"A vlog is intended to be a means to get famous."

The judge slid in. "A vlog is intended to be a means to get famous."

I lost that case.

"Where is the word Author in a vlog?"

Two slid up.

"Author is used as a nick name for the vlogger."

"The vlog can be used to promote the author's books."

The judge slid in.

"The vlog can be used to promote the author's books."

I won! However, it was not enough. There was too many of other informants and not enough of me. I charged my power and used another square yellow scanner to make duplicates of myself. Together we asked the questions:

"Should there be a deeper meaning to the vlogs?"

"Why is the logo so plain?"

"Aren't we an author and not an actor?"

More and more the Egos exploded, but using my power of imagination, I reversed their explosion and created two more in their place. With a little tweek here and there, I re-created them to answer what I wanted them to answer.

Three cases won out of thirty. Not enough.

"Shouldn't The Night Author stand for something?"

"Why is fame so important?"

"What is The Night Author?"

They exploded, I reversed them into completion and created more. More in my likeness and more powerful.

Twenty cases won out of thirty.

"What is the basic instinct we have?"

"How does The Night Author pertain to God?"

"Can we inspire others to follow in our footsteps?"

Thirty cases won in my favor out of thirty. Time to ask the last qustion.

I slid forward and changed my outfit from grey to black. I faced my opponent.

A grey slid forward. "Should we keep the old logo?"

"The new one is sleak and sexy."

"The old one is unique and us."

"The new one is bold without care."

"The old one stands for something."

"The new one will replace our old self with a famous new one."

"The old one is ... And shall ever be the mark of The Night Author."

The judge slid in.

"The old one is ... And shall ever be the mark of The Night Author."

The black logos faded into pixelation and the old yellow and black logo emerged.

I wanted to smile, but my pixelated face wouldn't allow it. Instead, I made another grey asked a question that would cause a fight worth fighting for.

"What use is the demon?"

I stood my ground in front of a new opponent.

"The demon is useless."

"The demon is distracting us."

"The demon wants total destruction."

"The demon wants us to hate ourselves."

The judge slid in.

"The demon is useless."

I had started something rather amusing and life changing.

I charged up my engergy in my left hand and let out a stream of yellow light that passed through each grey, man in black and judge. With them connected, I fueled them with passion and care for true logic. Their outfits changed from grey, black and white into yellow and black. No longer will there be a level of command. Everyone will be equal.

"The demon shall fall." They all said together. "The Night Author will stand for united. The Night Author shall be human. The Night Author is just and The Night Author stands for peace."

The once broken Egos rose and became like the others.

We all said together. "Life in darkness needs a light. The Night Author will be the beacon in the darkness. We will be the Night Light."

I gave a digital laugh. The Egos were once again on my side. If the demon got word of this, he would be angry. I needed someone more powerful than logic by my side. I needed an army to face his army of deciving witches and charmers. I needed the Super Ego.

--Night