No Working Calculators  by Will Hunter, Community           I had a dream last night that the sun was replaced by a gigantic eyeball. Whenever I went outside, the eye would watch me. It stared at me. I tried to get away from it by running inside, but all the doors were locked. I desperately tried to smash a window, but no matter how hard I hit, it would not break. Then I turned around, and the eye was getting closer, rushing at me. I woke up screaming just as it was about to hit me.         As soon as I woke up, I grabbed a sheet of paper from the stack I kept next to my bed. I fumbled for a pencil, then wrote my dream down. I have been keeping track of my dreams lately, hoping that they will give me some sort of clue what to do about the conspiracy. So far they had been fairly insightful, but this one seemed unclear, and I knew that it would take me a while to unveil its hidden meaning.         I hoped that my notes were safely hidden from the conspiracy because if they found out how much I knew about them, they would have me killed or operated on. I had taken every precaution I could think of to keep my dream journal safe from their eyes. The entire thing was written on typewriter paper in pencil. They would not be expecting that.         I also avoided using a #2 pencil when I wrote it. They always demanded that I use a #2 whenever filling out papers, so I knew that they must have that type of pencil monitored. I had an entire drawer full of #4 pencils which I had collected over the years, and I used these when writing anything important. The rest of the time, I used their precious #2 pencils in order to keep them from knowing that I was onto them.         My important papers were kept in a safe that was in my bedroom, a place they could not easily infiltrate or spy on. I had bricked up the windows long ago and had lined my entire room with tin foil, cleverly placed under the wallpaper where it could not be easily found. The tin foil, like all the #4 pencils, was also fairly difficult to get; by the time I discovered its properties in blocking their sensors, the stores no longer sold it openly. They only sold aluminum foil, which probably helps them read your mind instead of blocking them.         After adding this latest dream to my journal, I returned to my bed and slept until morning. I woke up around nine o'clock and went to work at the fast food restaurant which employs me. I loathed working there, but it was necessary. I needed money, and the conspiracy had worked very hard to make everybody dependent on money. It made people easier to control. Maybe if I had caught on to them earlier in life, I might have found a way to live without it, but unfortunately I was in their power in this one respect. I minimized their power over me by refusing to keep my money in a bank.         Instead, I kept my money in my closet, in small bills. The larger bills had tracking devices in them. You could see these when you held the bills up to the light. I didn't want them to be able to know how much money I had, or exactly where I kept it, so I avoided using those bills.         By the time I finished my shift at work, I was anxious to get back home where I could be alone again. The restaurant was crowded today. I hate crowds. They keep staring at me.         When I got to my apartment, there was a package on my doorstep. I looked it over, wondering what it could be. It had my address on it, typed on a label, but it had no return address. I didn't know who it could have come from, unless it was a part of the conspiracy. I became very suspicious and thought for a moment. It probably wasn't a bomb, I decided. If they wanted me dead, they could probably poison me through the water supply, or maybe just shoot me as I walked down the street. I didn't know what the package could be, but I decided to take it inside and open it.         I set the package down on my desk and pulled out the knife I kept in the top drawer. I gently slid the blade under the tape that was sealing one end of the package. The tape came off, and I gently opened the box. It was filled with little styrofoam pieces; ones shaped like the letter "s". Somebody was trying to tell me something.         Several hours later, I had completely analyzed the entire contents of the package. There were exactly six hundred thirty-seven pieces of "s" shaped styrofoam, a McClownBurger Mug, and an envelope with my name on it. Inside the envelope was a certificate for being employee of the month. I put the mug in my kitchen and wrote down "Styrofoam", "s", and "637" in my notebook. I could figure out what they meant later.         I sat and read for a while: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I like that series. It makes sense. I avoid television because of the radiation it sends out, and because the strong magnetic fields it produces can cause cancer. Besides, the television is just a tool used by the conspirators to control and manipulate the people. The news is biased and subtly changes the way people view the world and themselves. For example, I keep hearing people talk about Jeffery Dahmer, O.J. Simpson, and the Menendez brothers with touches of awe and reverence in their voices. The media practically makes killers out to be heroes. The "anti-drug" ads on television are of such low quality that nobody can possibly take them seriously. This type of blatant reverse psychology makes me sick. Those bastards in control want everybody to be on drugs; it makes them stupid and easier to control. It amazes me that people don't realize this. I run into hippies and new age people all the time who realize that there are puppetmasters behind most of the world's events. They even realize that the CIA is behind a lot of the manipulation going on. They even realize that the CIA has been caught selling marijuana. Somehow, they add it up wrong. If they know who the enemy is, and they know what the enemy wants us to have, why to they think they can win by taking it? That is what separates me from these people; I am logical.         After reading for a while, I made sure that my doors and windows were all locked and nobody could get inside without alerting me. Now I am going to sleep for the night.                                                          ¥   Last night I dreamt that there are no working calculators. I don't know that this means, but I will figure it out. I think that I am on the right track, that I am figuring out more and more about the conspiracy. "No Working Calculators." I wonder what it means. Douglas Adams had the same revelation, I know he did. In the Hitchhiker's series, the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything is, "what is 6 x 9?" The answer is "42." People think that this is funny; that he is making a joke. Now I realize that he is trying to tell us something. In another book by Adams, the main character gets a calculator which gives the standard answers as long as they are less than four. If the answer is greater than four then the calculator would say, "A differing shade of yellow." Another calculator reference. Yes, I am sure that he had the same revelation.         All the calculators give the exact same answers to our questions, and these answers make up our world. But what if these answers are incorrect? What if the calculators are wrong? What if there is another explanation for everything? One that They won't tell us about? What would the point to this type of conspiracy be? I am not sure. There is one thing that I am sure of, however. There are NO working calculators.