Tree Permit Requirements: Fill & Download for Free

Since we generally refer to the book series as A Song of Ice and Fire and the HBO series as Game of Thrones, I will address the latter.Two words: Euron Greyjoy.There were what I consider a staggering number of false moves by HBO in their season seven, so many and so severe that I believe they ruptured the viewers’ suspension of disbelief. Many of these errors involved Euron, the leering water wizard and his fleet of motorboats.No heart, no muscle, and no elbows, Euron Greyjoy possesses nothing more than a sickening leer, with a soft body and hairless chest to boot. And yet we are expected to believe this Gumby is the Genghis Khan of the waves, with a vast fleet that magically covers thousands of miles in hours and is invisible to dragons and men.We are given to understand that the Iron Islands are a small collection of rocky and barren islands, something like the Faeroes. Their topsoil would have been mostly washed away over the centuries of human habitation, as people stripped the land of trees for firewood and building ships.The population would have to be strictly limited; just ask Malthus, the historical leading light of population dynamics.Yet HBO asks us to believe first that Yara and Theon Greyjoy were able to ride off from Euron’s crowning ritual - which appeared to last no more than an hour or two - and get aboard ships that were fully manned and provisioned, and sail away in time for Euron to crest the ridge and see their receding sterns.There were hundreds of ships so there must have been thousands of crewmen. Where did they get the massive amount of smoked meat and other provender they would require to go sailing to Essos, then on to Westeros, an around-the-world voyage?And then, we are to believe that the remaining Iron Islanders had the trees, the skills, and the population to build and man a thousand more ships. These were not little Viking longships, either; they are portrayed in the series as full-size sailing ships.Sailing around the continent of Westeros would be a long and potentially difficult voyage, yet both Euron and part of Yara’s fleet does it as if it were nothing.Aha! You say - a squadron of US Navy PHM-1 Pegasus hydrofoils! But you would be mistaken. These are actually Euron Greyjoy’s ships. At least, they must be because of the speed with which Euron’s fleet runs rings around the world (once) then the continent of Westeros (twice, so far.) Could you sail from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon via the Panama Canal in a few weeks then return just as fast? Euron can and does.Additionally, Euron and his thousand ships sail into Blackwater Bay, which would have required them to sail past Dragonstone, where his enemy Daenerys sat with three dragons. And nobody noticed???Even if they arranged things to get past Dragonstone in the middle of the night, they would have been in sight at dusk, and the stragglers still in sight at dawn. The whole thing doesn’t just stretch belief, it snaps it. It’s an absurdity that I at least cannot make myself accept. Dany should have been informed, then gone out with her dragons three and burned at least 500 ships before returning to rest her flying death machines.You know what? I can’t stand Euron, so I’m going to leave it right there.Someone else can talk about Tyrion’s stupid advice to Dany NOT to use her many formidable advantages when she first sailed to Westeros - a surprise attack with all her power upon Cersei’s forces and she could have roasted the soldiers in their barracks and commanded King’s Landing within a day - and her uncharacteristic diffidence in landing first at her sentimental home, telegraphing her presence to Cersei and permitting the evil queen to take the initiative.Others can talk about how utterly ridiculous it is that the Unsullied could occupy the home castle of the Lannisters and yet find no food or supplies in it - the larders should have held years of accumulated food because of the approach of winter, and that could not have been removed in a month, let alone days. And how did they even know the Unsullied were coming?And the Westerlands are rich with good soil, a temperate climate, and a huge population (or how did they keep popping out new armies for Robb Stark to slaughter?) so why couldn’t the Unsullied ride out 10 miles in every direction and find where all that heavy food had been taken, and make the locals drag it back - and how could the Lannisters pretend losing their citadel to the enemy would not cost them control of the entire kingdom - and why didn’t the Unsullied just march a short distance into Lannisport, or had that big city also been emptied of all food? - IT JUST DIDN’T MAKE ANY SENSE!But I’m not going to get into that. Or into the hare-brained idea of sending the leadership of the North on a personal quest to seize one wight - just one, even knowing there were 100,000 others in the neighbourhood - to try and persuade a woman they all knew - oh, you get the idea. If it fails the “would anyone besides an idiot do this?” test, then I would call it a flaw.So my answer is: Euron Greyjoy. He rivals the Sand Snakes in - oh, the Sand Snakes! What a load of - but someone else can cover of what, exactly, the Sand Snakes were a load.For me, Euron Greyjoy was a load of the same thing. A boatload.A THOUSAND BOATLOADS.

Osho was always rebellious in his lifetime and criticised and questioned the status quo and many orthordox belief systems ,wherever and whoever and this angered some ultra conservatives and created many enemies with the establishment.“The old sage was respectable, honored by the society in which he was born. He followed the rules and regulations of the people, he went through all the disciplines required for being a sage.He was part of the social structure - and even though there were thousands of superstitions, ugly institutions, exploitation, philosophies to console the poor and the oppressed, he affirmed them. He was never against any of the institutions the society had lived with for centuries. He was a follower of the old, of the ancient.In a way he was a simple man, but deep down utterly repressed, because all social structures are repressive. He was not an individual in his own right, he was only a part of a certain society or cultural group. That certain group worshipped him for the simple reason that he was fulfilling their ideals, their cherished goals. He was their representative.For example, no Hindu sage has denied or condemned the ugly institution of the caste system. It is impossible even to conceive that a man of clarity and enlightenment could not see that the caste system is a special way of exploiting the poor and the oppressed. Man has behaved so inhumanly with these poor and oppressed people; it has not happened anywhere else in the world. And this was happening in this country, which has created the greatest number of sages.They talked beautifully about God, they sang beautifully about the other world, they lived a life prescribed by the society, absolutely according to the rules. The society was happy that they were so obedient, and they were happy because the society fulfilled their subtle egos - they were thought to be almost incarnations of God. So there was a mutual conspiracy between the so-called old sages and the social structures in which they were born.The ancientmost scriptures of the Hindus, the Vedas, prescribes rituals in which not only animals have to be sacrificed to satisfy the gods, but even human beings have to be sacrificed - to satisfy a god that nobody has ever seen. But no sage of those days raised his voice to say that this is absolutely ridiculous, utterly irreligious, unspiritual. They all went hand in hand with the society, supporting whatever the society's beliefs were by their writings and by their living.Their only satisfaction was that they were worshipped. But to be worshipped is a tremendous nourishment for the ego. If the society wanted them to live naked, they lived naked; if the society wanted them to live in utter poverty, they lived in utter poverty. In a single word, the old sage was just the opposite of the new rebel.The new rebel is an enlightened being - he is fulfilled and deeply contented. He will speak his truth whether it goes against the society, against the heritage, against the ancient traditions, against scriptures - it does not matter.”(OSHO - The Rebel chapter one , 1987) .Still, he had attracted a huge following in India and worldwide.There was always rubbish in the papers, not only the Indian newspapers, but the Oregonian in the US has been carrying trashy stories for decades. Biased reporting and often rumours not based on any actual evidence and Osho’s words are used completely out of context.Journalist Max Brecher comments here on the low standard of the Oregonian newpaper reporting on Rajneeshpuram , in particular the poor quality of Les Zaitz’s article : ““ 25 years after Rajneeshee commune collapsed, truth spills out”:: Same Old Leopard, Same Old SpotsThere were not any “nitrous oxide taps at the end of the bed” at Rajneeshpuram.The lady who cleaned his room every day for years , Nirupa , has said she never saw any “nitrous taps” and the story is completely bogus.The only source for the story was one trashy newspaper article which stated that Osho had left the Ranch at the same time as Sheela- not true. Osho had left at the end of Nov 1985 whilst Sheela had left around Sep 1985. The paper claims that an Oregon congressman was shown a recess in the wall in Osho’s bedroom where the nitrous oxide spigot points would have been- however, the only room in Osho’s house which had the recess for the nitrous oxide spigot points was the special Dental room. It would have been impossible to tell the difference after Osho and all of his household had left the Ranch anyhow, as the entire house would have been empty and there would have been no beds or furniture. There is no record in the FBI report of any ‘nitrous taps’ in Osho’s bedroom.Apparently there was a nebuliser at some point in Osho’s bedroom - this would have been more likely as he was highly asthmatic.More: Anand Sharma's answer to Did Osho ever abuse drugs?The US Authorities had no evidence that Osho was linked to Sheelas crimes, and they later admitted this.The late journalist Anand Parmartha from Sannyasnews put the following questions in 2011 to Swami Jayananda , (John Shelfer ) who had been Sheelas husband and a member of her inner circle at the Ranch.SN: To want extent do you see Sheela as villian/ victim?Jay: “Sheela was a victim of stress and the ego. She did not start out as the person she became. The one that betrayed the ideas of the commune and of involvement of consciousness was a totally different person to the earlier Sheela.”“Do you have any insight into why Sheela had Osho’s room bugged around 1983/85?”Jay:“She was resentful of Osho choosing to communicate with other members of the community. She want to control all aspects of his life and the commune.”Do you feel that Sheela was guilty of crimes as ordinarily understood?”Jay: “Yes, her rational was it was for the better good of the commune. In reality it was to justify her actions. It was to cement her control - remove any impediment to her total domination of the community.For example the poisoning of the Dalles - was in order to elect members of the community to the governing board of the county. This would have removed the hold on the community’s ability to issue building permits. This in its turn was brought about when she insisted on building the Hotel on land we had previously zoned for exclusive farm use. That action had caused the county and state to lift our ability to self rule. That further justified her planning and carrying out the burning of the county’s planing office where the proof of her actions were documented. This was of course very futile, as there were copies in numerous files resting in lawyer’s offices around the statethe attempted murder of Amrito,(also Vivek)She wanted through removing Amrito and Vivek to control Lao Tzu(Osho’s household) with her own people….etc.”“Can any of these crimes be put down to Osho’s promoting or instruction?”Jay: “Not a chance.”Any Osho involvement in what happened?Jay: “During 1980,81,82 I often accompanied Sheela on her nightly visits to Osho. I sat in on many of these sessions. I heard about many of the sessions that I did not attend up to the end of the Ranch. In all this I never saw Osho’s hand or knowledge in what amounted to Sheela’s dirty tricks.Her strident behaviour was related to, and known to Osho ,,, – but when she explained her actions and causes to Osho - she made it to appear that she was defending the community and sannyasins from threats coming from outside. When in reality it was her actions that too often were precipitating and magnifying the threats from the outside. When the outside world did not bow down to the demands and requests she was making, she would represent it to Osho as an attack on our community and or on sannyasins. Those who lived there and enjoyed the Ranch soon learned it was Sheela’s way, or the highway. The outside world never learned that lesson, and it turned out that we all had to hit the highway.”John “Jay” ShelferContrary to what other commentators may try to suggest , Osho was not speaking on a daily basis with any of the members of Sheela’s core group , many of whom were convicted as a result of Osho exposing the crimes that became exposed after Sheela had left the commune and fled to Germany in Sep 1985.Sheela was the only intermediatary between Osho and everyone else.When Sheela fled to West Germany in September 1985, with a group of other sannyasins who had been involved in the crimes, hoping to cross into Switzerland where she would be free from extradition to the U.S. , several people who had stayed behind , began exposing what they knew to Osho, who decided to inform the law enforcement agencies , and invite them into the commune to investigate the crimes, and also hold a world press conference , which took place within 48 hours of Sheela leaving.Two of Sheela’s group made deals with the FBI in exchange for immunity from prosecution for some or all of their part in the crimes , and agreed to stay on the Ranch and act as underground informants for the government. Ava Avalos , was one of the people who had intially followed Sheela but decided that she couldn`t go through with it and returned to the commune , started talking to the FBI, who offered her a deal in exchange for information and immunity for her participation in the crimes. She said in her 1985 testimony to the FBI :“Sheela informed them that Bhagwan was not to know what was going on, and that if Bhagwan were to ask them about anything that would occur, `they would have to lie to Bhagwan.”Of course the world wouldn’t be aware of these crimes today if Osho hadn’t exposed them.In a press conference on Sep 16th 1985, Osho stated that it had been revealed to him that Sheela had bugged the entire commune , and been making tape recordings, and his personal residence had been bugged and taped, and that Sheela had taken some of these tapes with her to Germany.The audio recording of this world press conference ( the first of several) , can be listened to at Oshoworld , under `Press Interviews`, number one:Welcome to Osho World Audio DiscoursesTherefore, having exposed this to the world media and inviting the police and the FBI to investigate, he obviously wasn’t concerned about anything that could have possibly incriminated him on those tapes.“Swami Prem Niren, Rajneesh’s attorney, put it like this, “Sheela bugged Osho’s room including her conversations with him, for months. She took some tapes with her when she left. Thousands of tapes were later discovered by sannyasins and voluntarily turned over to the FBI.“Sheela and the government had strong motivation to prove Osho’s involvement in her crimes. But they never produced a speck of evidence to indicate, let alone substantiate, anything of the sort. This failure to offer evidence, where there is strong motive and opportunity, is proof of the absence of evidence.”” (A Passage To America )The FBI have stated on record that “no direct evidence linking The Bhagwan to [Sheela’s] crimes exists.”But the US Government had been trying to destroy Rajneeshpuram for four years and wanted to use the opportunity . They had been planning on deporting him for a long time because they knew that would finish Rajneeshpuram.“Charles Turner, the US government’s prosecuting attorney in the case against Bhagwan – who happened to be a fundamentalist Christian – stated in February 1989, that as Rajneeshpuram was becoming established, the government “threw up their hands, [saying]: ‘What are we going to do with these people? How are we going to get them out of here? They’re totally entrenched. They’re a political entity. They have money, they have power, they have organization. They’re sophisticated, they have people who are absolutely, completely, totally committed to what they are doing, zealous beyond anything that I’ve never encountered before in my life. So, what are we going to do about it? Let’s use the US attorney’s office to charge them with immigration fraud.'”…Charles Turner continued: “I realized early on that the thing to do, if we wanted to get rid of these people… was to deport the Rajneesh, because he was the catalyst and the lynchpin for this organization. If we could get rid of him, the whole thing would fall apart as a matter of course.”” (‘Twelve Days That Shook The World’ , Juliet Forman , 2002)The FBI didnt bother to interview Osho when they had the chance. Four times , appointments were set up but they kept cancelling them at the last minute. Osho wanted the interviews to be videotaped because he didn’t trust that the FBI wouldn’t change his statements.In late October 1985, just over a month after Sheela left, the US Government decided to station the National Guard around the Ranch which was getting into position to invade the commune.The authorities had decided to create a sealed indictment accusing Osho of conspiring to commit immigration fraud by encouraging his sannyasins to marry illegally to obtain green cards.They had orchestrated a plan to invade Rajneeshpuram with over 300 armed officers and helicopter gunships, to arrest Osho for these immigration violations.The atmosphere inside the commune was tense. There were reports on the radio of the mobilisation of the National Guard and fears of a bloodbath.The US authorities had been trying to destroy the commune ever since its inception and the INS(Immiegration and Naturalization Service) had an ongoing investigation for over four years, trying to find ways to deport Osho. They had been planning on deporting him for a long time because they knew that would finish Rajneeshpuram.From time to time since 1984, rumours would reach Osho’s attorneys that the INS were preparing an indictment accusing Osho of immiegration violations and were preparing to invade the commune and arrest Osho.Osho’s attorneys tried several times previously, before Sheela had left and Osho had exposed the crimes , to negotiate a voluntarily surrender with the authorities , who had agreed to this, but who refused to confirm whether any indictment had been issued or any arrest was immanent.Around Oct 24tn, 1985 , Osho’s Attorneys recieved information that an impending arrest and invasion of the Ranch by the INS and the National Guard was immanent. They again tried to negotiate a voluntary surrender with Charles Turner, but the authorities refused to confirm whether an indictment had been prepared or an arrest was immanent.Ma Prem Hasya (Francoise Ruddy), Osho’s new secretary and several disciples , had suggested to get Osho away from the Ranch for a few days until Osho’s attorneys clarified the situation and as a preventative measure and to depressurise the situation – including the threat of an invasion of the Ranch by the INS and the Oregon National Guard, (there were fears of a bloodbath and harm coming to sannyasins if they defended themselves and Osho if they got involved in a firefight . From Freedom of Information Requests it has since been revealed that the National Guard had already mounted the machine guns onto their helicopters and were preparing to assault the commune) .On Oct 26th , Osho and a group of disciples flew out of the Charlotte and were arrested illegally, without a warrant , or being given a reason for the arrest, and without being allowed to contact their attorney in North Carolina. The flight plans to North Carolina had been already been registered with the FAA.(Federal Aviation Authority) . Undercover informants at the Ranch had observed the planes taking off.The agents who arrested Osho and his group at gunpoint at North Carolina had been faxed over a list of names from Oregon and told to expect “dangerous terrorists” but none of the names on the list were on the plane with Osho.Neverless, the entire group were arrested anyway and put in jail.In November 1985 , back in Portland, it was clear that the government did not want to have a trial against Osho – the US Attorney Charles Turner later admitted that they did not have sufficient evidence against him (Press Conference, July 22, 1986).The government attorneys were keen to offer a plea deal , that if Osho pled guilty to two minor immiegration violations , he would be released and deported .Osho’s attorneys all agreed that the Goverment had one of the weakest cases they had ever seen - and all believed that they would win the case. But the government had behaved unusually with Osho , isolating him from everyone else and dragging him through six different jails in twelve days , even signing him under a false name in Oklahoma county jail - his whereabouts unknown for over 24 hours until he was tracked down- through the journey from Charlotte, NC back to Portland, in what would have usually been a standard four hour plane prison shuttle journey. The government was threatening to prolong the case - Osho’s health was fragile , he had not slept well for days , and his attorneys were concerned about his health and wanted to get him out of jail . So he agreed to accept an ‘Alford Plea’ - which means that he was able to assert his innocence of two charges which were actually minor charges, both of which he denied, one was that he had arranged for a foreigner to marry an American citizen and secondly, that he had arrived in America with ‘intent” to stay, and not just as a long-term visitor. After that he was deported and banned from re-entering the U.S. for five years.Later , back in Pune , he asked his attorney, Swami Prem Niren , to write a book to ‘ clear his name in America’.In the sixties Osho used to travel around India, as Acharya Rajneesh , debating with many people as well as giving discourses and talks on spirituality, love and meditation.In one series of public lectures in Mumbai he shocked a deeply conservative Indian populace by talking openly about sex, and the transformation of sex energy into superconciousness, this is when the yellow press named him the “Sex Guru”, and started to spread many lies.Osho debated with the Shankaracharya of Puri, in front of a crowd of 50,000 people at the Second World Hindu Conference in 1969. The Shankaracharya, who had organised the conference, became enraged as Osho criticised the immolation of Indian widows, known as sati , which was common practise in those days, as well as the treatment of the shudras cast and untouchables who he compared with the treatment of animals.Apparently the Shankarcharya tried to grab the microphone from Osho in vain, but fell off the stage in the process.That made him many enemies with Hindu fanatics. However he continued to confront what he saw as unconsciousness and question orthodox belief systems wherever he saw it,in any form,throughout his lifetime.He always created controversy and didn’t want to be respectable, deliberately making a provocation by collecting 93 rolls-royces , all the same model, when he got to America.There he was dubbed as “the Bhagwan” or “the Rajneesh”.However , as well as causing controversy , Osho was well recognised in his lifetime.In 1983 the US government’s refusal to accept Osho as a religious teacher touched off a storm of protest from religious and other professionals around the world.Scholars from every Christian denomination (Catholic, Baptist, Church of England, Presbyterian, Quaker, Lutheran and Orthodox), Jewish Rabbis, Zen temple priests, Buddhist scholars and professors of religion from all over the world wrote in his favour. As did major figures from the worlds of science, medicine, psychology, sociology, business and the arts.Excepts from some of these letters in 1983:“This master is the rarest and most talented religionist to appear in this century. His writings about Buddhism are full of inspiration and original concept­ions. As a specialist in Buddhism, I have been surprised many times by his original and creative interpretations and by his unique religiousness. His interpretations are saturated with the truth of Buddhism. Even the outstanding monks that are present here in Japan cannot obtain to this level of interpretation.’Professor Kazuyoshi Kina, Japan’s best-known Buddhist scholar.“His grasp and perception of the teachings of Jesus Christ are extraordinary and very needed by both ministers and laity of Western materialistic Christianity”The Reverend Frank Stribbling.“[Osho’s] work bears the imprint not of one tradition, but of a man of intellectual penetration and insight whose perceptions of the human dilemma point not to easy solutions nor to esoteric answers, but which instead return the sensitive reader to him/herself, to an understanding of the universal human need which we continuously seek to satisfy. In his eclectic approach to religious content and form, he directs those who can hear his message to the nexus of all human experience and of all religious quests. [Osho]’s learning is staggering: He writes with equal knowledge and lucidity on Jewish mystical teachers, Japanese religious traditions, the great Chinese mystics, as well as the legendary spiritual masters of his native India. And he is conversant with Spinoza and Nietzsche as with Christ and Buddha. More importantly than his command of their thought is the new light in which he sees these progenitors of our philosophies.”Diane Mintz, M.A. Rabbinic Literature.‘‘I have read all his books and felt enriched tremendously by his philosophy of life, his great understanding and tolerance of all religions.’’Rabbi Joseph H. Gelberman, Tree of Life Synagogue, New York.‘‘[Osho] is a wise man, and a distinguished psychologist. With his meditation techniques, which he developed partly himself, he understands how to convey to us Western people something of the wisdom of the East without us having to give up the fruits of our Western cultural development and civilization.”Gabriel Looser Th.D, Roman Catholic theologian working in the hospital ministry in Berne, Switzerland.The National President of the Venerable Permanent Counsel of the Orthodox Church of Italy noted Osho’s “enormous contribution to­wards raising the understanding and consciousness of the human self”.Osho “is renowned throughout the world, crossing lines of religion, profession, race, creed, country, culture, age, education and background:”The Reverend Jill Gerhard, minister for ten years of the Church of Religious Science, San Francisco.A hostess of radio and TV talk shows in San Francisco, she also adds, “I have been in the presence of many spiritual giants, I have read their works and scriptures but I know of no other now living who is so great a religious teacher or spiritual leader as [Osho].”“My encounter with the thoughts and actions of [Osho] has been an authentic lightning bolt. In between two worlds, the Eastern and the Western, which he knows totally, this master can work for the re­birth of a new world, of a better world.”Gregorio, the Archimandrite of Turin (Orthodox Catholic Church of Italy- Moscow Patriarchate)“[Osho’s] ideas have contemporary meaning and validity. His under­standing of the modern mind and his approach to it shows great insight that it is in line with Indian traditional thought, Buddhism, and modern psychology. His relating spiritual experience and psychology is unusual and interesting. As with other religious leaders who first met persecution and rejection, it is difficult to see what influence his teaching will have in the future, just as in the first century none would have guessed the influence of Jesus two thousand years later. However, given the level of education of most of his followers and their professions, we could expect that his insights will flow into the general society.”Alfred Bloom, Professor of Religion at the University of Hawaii.“In his religious discourses, he has shown an insight into the working of the human mind far deeper than most professionals that I have met in my career. He has an intimate knowledge of Western psychology, whether of the psychoanalytic, behavioristic or humanistic schools, and has himself propounded at length his own psychology of the buddhas, which transcends all of these (see particularly The Discipline of Transcendence in four volumes, The Book of the Books in six volumes, and Philosophia Perennis in two volumes). He has also shown an exceptional ability as a practicing psychologist in his dealings with visitors and disciples who bring their problems to him. The record of these interviews is also published in book form and bears witness to his psychological insight and skill as a therapist. “His ability in this area is simply greater than any persons I have come across in the last twenty years that I have been involved with psychology.”Nigel D. W. Armistead, Ph.D., author of Reconstructing Social Psychiatry and former Lecturer in Social Psychiatry at the University of Sheffield , UK.“Osho is the most dangerous man since Jesus Christ... He's obviously a very effective man, otherwise he wouldn't be such a threat. He's saying the same things that nobody else has the courage to say. A man who has all kinds of ideas, they're not only inflammatory-they also have a resonance of truth that scares the pants off the control freaks."(The best selling American novellist Tom Robbins, author of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Still Life with Woodpecker and Jitterbug Perfume.)”[Osho] is an Enlightened Master who is working with all possibilities to help humanity overcome a difficult phase in developing consciousness-The Dalai LamaSo there were indeed many people impressed with Osho’s teachings , and talks, including those on their own respective mystical traditions in his lifetime.But Osho didn’t care about respectability and followed no particular tradition.Rather, he wanted to focus the last years of his life on his own vision of a new man and women, the enlightened rebel, free from the past , without any dogma , and a vision of a scientific spirituality that accepted both the outer world and the inner world.“Zorba the Buddha is the answer. It is the synthesis of matter and soul. It is a declaration that there is no conflict between matter and consciousness, that we can be rich on both sides. We can have everything that the world can provide, that science and technology can produce, and we can still have everything that a Buddha, a Kabir, a Nanak finds in his inner being - the flowers of ecstasy, the fragrance of godliness, the wings of ultimate freedom.Zorba the Buddha is the new man, is the rebel.His rebellion consists of destroying the schizophrenia of man, destroying the dividedness - destroying spirituality as against materialism, and destroying materialism as against spirituality.It is a manifesto that body and soul are together: that existence is full of spirituality, that even mountains are alive, that even trees are sensitive, that the whole existence is both - or perhaps just one energy expressing itself in two ways, as matter and as consciousness. When energy is purified, it expresses itself as consciousness; when energy is crude, unpurified, dense, it appears as matter.But the whole existence is nothing but an energy field.Zorba the Buddha is the richest possibility. He will live his nature to its utmost and he will sing songs of this earth. He will not betray the earth, and he will not betray the sky either. He will claim all that this earth has - all the flowers, all the pleasures - and he will also claim all the stars of the sky. He will claim the whole existence as his home.”(OSHO : The Rebel , chapter 8 )Suggested further reading:Osho: The Rebel (1987) https://www.oshorajneesh.com/download/osho-books/responses_to_questions/The_Rebel.pdfBhagwan: The Most Dangerous Man Since Jesus Christ (1988) . Bhagwan: The Most Dangerous Man Since Jesus Christon Rajneeshpuram:Osho: The Buddha for the Future , (Maneesha James)'In the Eye of the Hurricane' The Inside Journey of a Disciples Journey’ - ( Devakant )

Some good short stories are:1: The Shooting Match by Augustus Baldwin Longstreet2: The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Poe3: Pickman’s Model by Howard Philips LovecraftI have also herein included a short story of my own composition which I penned in the flickering yellow light of pumpkin-scented candles during a power outage amid the spectral green lightning flashes of a violent thunderstorm at midnight! I call it Coven of the ForgerIt was that time of year when leaves are dying; the branches of deciduous trees becoming starkly bare revealing long narrowing extensions of themselves which stab into the dull red sunset like varicose veins of melancholy thoughts which gnarl and twist their way through the hopeless empty appendages of disenchanted human souls. The balmy vespers of summer were yielding to the creeping autumn chill that reaches out from the Arctic like the ghoulish clawed hands of a frosty ghost from an icy haunted house at the top of the world.Doors and windows were closed tightly. Top blankets were being dragged out from musty closet stowage and placed unceremoniously at the foots of beds. Somber gray gloom brooded on the darkening horizon of shortening daylight hours, seeping into the pedestrian subconscious like swamp hags crawling closer to thumping beating hearts along the crooked edges of lengthening shadows.The slight rapping on the outer door of the reception room might have been Poe’s raven pecking. Reclined in the worn executive chair that I had picked up at a second hand store on Fourth and Main, I somehow wasn't entirely motivated to leap up and dive for the door-handle in spite of the fact that, after coughing up the security deposit and first month's rent for this new office, I desperately needed a client. The soothing rhythm of the freezing afternoon rain was lulling me to repose beside the flickering blaze crackling warmly in the small red brick fireplace, so I shouted, "Door's open! Come on in!"The squeaky knob turned. The old door creaked. Then silence."I'm in my office! Come on back!"Soft soled shoes don't make much noise and the whisper of thighs in a skirt is even less audible. A moment later her slight figure stood before me. The shaded lamp on the corner of my desk cast a subdued yellow glow on her right side. Her left was in shadow. Ruddy reflections from the fireplace danced weirdly on her shadowed side.How it could be that she wasn't drenched from the cold rain is a mystery that would be solved later. At the moment my attention was heavily occupied by her rare mien. I hadn't seen one like her since being tortured in vacation bible school at the Pentecostal Holiness church way down south in the little farm-town backwater of Chipley, Florida. She was covered from chin to wrists to ankles in a drab denim dress. Her hair must have been very long because it made a huge bundle where it was tightly bound at the back of her petite head. No doubt that luxurious auburn hair had been lengthening since birth because those zealously faithful fundamentalists in the Old South don't believe in cutting the hair of females.I had never seen such pale skin. The blood coursing through the delicate network of her circulatory system appeared hazy blue. Due to a prominent lack of mascara, her translucent eyelashes didn't seem very long, and without lipstick, her thin flat lips were something less than appealing.Barely an A-cup, the softness of her exquisite features is the only thing that prevented me misidentifying her as an adolescent boy - only feminine flesh can be that angelically gossamer. This young lady could have been a ballerina, except that the slow burn of Celtic independence emanating from her medieval aura would have obviated participation in any such regimented choreography as flitting about the stage in a tutu.At the time I didn’t know much about witches, nor had I any idea that I was about to find out more about practitioners of the ancient craft than I consider healthy for a person to know; but, it was obvious to a trained observer like myself that the purity of her clannish bloodline had been carefully preserved through selective breeding since long before Hadrian started building a wall to delineate the northern boundary of Britannia.I removed my patent leathers from my cluttered desk, sat up straight, and motioned the dainty dame to one of the two cheap metal folding chairs that temporarily served as a place for clients to sit. She seated herself without a word, placing her modestly large Faux leather tote on her lap, then turned her Prussian blue eyes on me and blinked through the clean lenses of her tortoiseshell horn-rimmed glasses.During a moment of uncomfortable silence, I waited for her to speak. We listened to each other breathing. I decided to break the ice."You shop at Warby Parker, I see."She stopped blinking and, in an eerily harmonic voice that hauntingly bespoke heavenly choirs, replied, "What's that?""Your eyeglasses," I returned with a gentle nod of my head, "the vintage look is sensible and economic. You're obviously a woman of discretion. I admire your unpretentious style."It may have been wishful thinking on my part, but at the sound of my masculine voice boldly speaking the word 'woman' I thought I saw a rush of warmth flush her pale cheeks in faint pink patches. She glanced bashfully aside, then back at me. The ghostly complexion had returned."Thank you, I think, but," she unfolded a small sheet of paper that had been hidden in her exquisite palm, consulted it, then, "are you Mr. Frost? Mr. Bryn Frost, the private detective?"I was so enchanted by her melodic voice that I was incapacitated for immediate reply. This served to provide me with deeper insight into her unique personality because she squirmed ever so slightly on the metal chair, blinked again and spoke more music to my ears.“I told the ladies at the front office that I was looking for Mr. Frost. They indicated that I should walk up the hill to bungalow 13. There’s nothing on the door to identify this as a business location. I don’t see a name plaque on your desk. I want to make sure I'm in the right place. Is this the office of Frost Investigative Services?”Her fairy voice was the sonic equivalent of milk and honey. The elusive hint of her Gaelic accent transported me hundreds of years back through time to a secret mystical garden of earthly delights. With a monumental effort I dragged myself from the soothing spell of her intonations thereby returning to the present moment and the subject about which she was addressing me. I cleared my throat, " Uh, yeah, well, I just signed the lease agreement day before yesterday. The lettering artist hasn't been round to paint my name on the door, yet. As for a name plaque for my desk, that’s something I’ll relegate to my secretary....that is, as soon as I hire one. I'm currently interviewing for a secretary. I thought you might have been my four O'clock."I wasn't interviewing for a secretary. I didn't have the money to afford a secretary, but I wanted things to look good to this potential client. You know what they say about first impressions.It was now my elegant visitor’s turn to seem bewildered, so I answered her question directly.“Yes, I am Bryn Frost of Frost Investigative Services. You are in the right place. Private detective Frost, the selfsame, entirely at your disposal, ma’am. How may I be of assistance to you?”She was mute for another moment or two, so I gently prompted, “You want to employ the professional skills of a private eye, but the subject of your inquiry is a delicate matter? No need to be embarrassed. I assure you my integrity and discretion are worthy of your trust. You want me to check out your new boyfriend, make sure he’s not hiding a licentious past? Or is it that you suspect your husband of being unfaithful?”I didn’t labor vainly under the plebeian misconception that my fair visitor was the type of woman to permit herself to suffer from either one of these inconveniences, but I wanted to get her started talking, help her relax and lay it on the table for me. Some think this type of provocation approach is a devious underhanded tactic. They call it reverse psychology. I myself consider this method a subtle form of mind probing, entirely ethical and worthy of the modern shamus.“Nothing so tawdry, Mr. Frost. I’m not married, nor am I vulgar enough to have a so-called boyfriend. Please forgive my lack of focus. I'm not used to being alone in a bungalow with a strange man, and I have never before consulted a private detective. I’m not entirely sure how to begin.”“Why don’t we start with your name. You know mine. How about telling me yours?”“Yes, of course, I’m Tamsyn McBane.”“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss McBane. How may I help you?”She gripped the straps of her tote and squirmed again, “I, well, the truth is, Mr. Frost, this is very difficult for me. I’ve been driven to desperate measures, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Meaning no offense, of course. I’m sure your profession has its merits and I’m sure you’re very good at what you do.”“No offense taken, Miss McBane. However, the fact that you wouldn’t be here consulting a private detective unless you thought it absolutely necessary naturally leads me to be interested in knowing how you found out about me. I won’t get my feelings hurt if you simply picked my name out of the Yellow Pages.”She smiled a little. This, I deduced, was a good sign in my favor.“No, Mr. Frost, I didn’t pick your name from a phone book. A friend of mine, a member of our cov--, uh, our social group, yes, well, she, Narcissus Ravenwing, told me about you. She knows something of my difficulty and she recommended I bring my problem to you. She had known of you through another friend, I don’t know him, who would have been wrongfully prosecuted for a crime he did not commit had it not been for your keen detective skills uncovering the truth and vindicating him. His name is Michael Hammond.”“Ah yes, I remember the case, from about two years ago. One of this town’s most prominent matrons called the police to report a break-in. Some of her jewelry had been stolen and Michael, due to a petty theft on his record from a few years prior, had come under suspicion because he was employed as a groundskeeper at the matron’s mansion which is located in the well-to-do Tiara Park neighborhood on the north side of town.”She was paying attention, I was touting my formidable investigative skills. Smoothly, I prattled on like steam rising from a boiling pot of sirloin stew.“Michael had only himself to vouch for his whereabouts at the time of the crime, yet when questioning him, I was able to ascertain that, though he had been home alone on the night in question, he had also been doing some online shopping. Upon further investigation, I discovered that he had made a couple of credit card purchases during the same time frame that the jewels were stolen. This helped get Michael off the hook.“A tip from one of my informants revealed that a ring of burglars from out of town had been working Tiara Park that week, so I immediately checked with a local car rental business where I found that a Cadillac Escalade had been rented to Newt Thompson which is an alias of Norton Thomas who has a number of first-degree larceny arrests, though none resulted in convictions.“The rented SUV containing a pearl necklace belonging to the Tiara Park matron was discovered in an alley in a seedy part of town, but the jewel thieves have yet to be apprehended. Most likely they were out of the Cadillac fencing the jewels when police swarmed around the rented automobile. From a lookout position, a fire escape or window perhaps, the culprits saw what was happening and made their escape. At any rate, yes, I was able to fully vindicate Michael Hammond of the crime.”“Which is why you came so highly recommended to me, Mr. Frost. It is my hope that you will be as successful with my dilemma as you were with Mr. Hammond’s.”“I shall do my very best for you, Miss McBane.”“Please, Mr. Frost, call me Tamsyn.”“Delighted, and you may call me Bryn.”She smiled, I beamed.“Now, Tamsyn, in order to empower me with the information I need to help you, it is of the utmost importance that you be completely honest with me in every particular. Hold nothing back. Tell me everything you know, for instance, were you about to say 'coven' a moment ago when you caught yourself and replaced that word with ‘social group’? Friends with names like Narcissus Ravenwing are often members of witch covens.”This time I knew for certain I saw her pale cheeks flush with faint pink patches for the primary reason that this time they weren’t so faint.She seemed reluctant for about twenty seconds, but then her admirable strength of character prevailed. With a deep breath which she sighed out with a relaxing of her tense dainty shoulders, Tamsyn McBane began an eerie narrative in which she stated the facts of her agony as she knew them at the time.“Yes, Bryn Frost, I am in a witch coven. I wasn’t going to tell you about that, but you caught my little slip of the tongue. Which, when I think about it, is encouraging to me because it demonstrates how alertly observant you are.”“Thank you, Tamsyn, but why weren’t you going to tell me about you being in a coven?”“I want you to take me seriously, Bryn. I didn’t want you thinking I’m some sort of flighty eccentric, because I really do need your help and I want you to do your very best for me.”“I can assure you I will. What exactly is it that you want me to do?”“I want you to find my grandfather. He’s gone missing, you see. He disappeared under very mysterious circumstances about a month ago.”“Have you reported it to the police? A month is sufficient time for someone to be officially classified as a missing person.”“Yes, I know. Of course, I went to the police, but they have very little to go on. The detective in charge of my grandfather’s case was very forthright with me. He told me that in all likelihood my grandfather would not be found….not alive, that is.”“You say your grandfather disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Describe these circumstances to me, and please do tell me everything. If you really want me to find out what has happened to your grandfather, and I believe you do, then, as I’ve already explained, it is essential that you tell me all.”Tamsyn shrugged her shoulders looser, slouching into an exasperated posture, and gazed down at the hardwood floor with a tired look in her radiant blue eyes, “There’s not much to tell, really. My grandfather is very dear to me. I’ve been looking after him for almost a decade now. I was upstate attending college when my grandmother died. At first my mother was going to come down, but she and my father have very serious career obligations. As wrapped up in their work as they are, even though they didn’t want me to put my formal education on hold, I knew it would be a big help if I came here to look after grandfather,” she shrugged her pretty shoulders again, “well, they’re so wrapped up in their careers that I knew they’d soon get over the slight disruption of my grandmother’s death and on they would go with their noble ambitions as if nothing ever happened.“My grandfather’s normal routine was to leave every morning at eight to open his curio shop downtown. Every evening, Monday through Saturday, he would be in from work for supper promptly at seven thirty. One evening exactly four weeks ago to the day, my grandfather failed to show. After an hour had passed, I naturally became worried. He’s nearly eighty years old, but his health is such that one would hardly place him a day over sixty. Still, though, someone of such advanced years, well, who knows what might happen at any moment without warning?“I called the curio shop to find out what was the cause of his unusual delay. There was no answer and apparently his cell phone had been turned off because when I dialed that number, it didn’t even ring. By now I was becoming very worried and in my growing concern, I called the home number of his assistant, Mr. Hartley, who explained that he hadn’t seen my grandfather since just before three that afternoon. It seems that grandfather had gone to meet a client at 3 o’clock about a specific curio commission. The meeting was to be held downtown at the Station House, which is a 24 hour diner on Main Street. You probably know the place.”I nodded confirmation. Tamsyn continued her story.“My grandfather eats lunch at the Station House everyday. His curio shop is two blocks from the little restaurant and he walks there and back which helps maintain his surprisingly good physical condition. I called the Station House, but the day-shift crew had already gone home, so I couldn’t talk to Milly, the waitress who, being my grandfather’s favorite, always serves him his lunch in his favorite booth. The owner of the Station House, Mrs. Sheridan, thoughtfully gave me Milly’s home phone number. When I called Milly, she said that my grandfather had not been to the Station House for lunch that day, nor had he been there for the three o’clock appointment that Mr. Hartley had spoken of.“At this point I was on the verge of panic, so I called the police. I told them everything that had happened. A patrol unit was dispatched to take my statement officially and have a look around the house, after which I was told that my grandfather’s whereabouts would be investigated. It was late the following afternoon when I finally heard from the officer who had taken my statement the night before. He said that my grandfather had not been located. Then the officer put me on the line with the chief of the Rune City police department, a Mr. Dirk Hollenbeck, you probably know him?”“Yeah, I know Chief Hollenbeck. He’s dedicated to his job, but he’s a bit of a scrooge. Doesn’t like me nosing around in official police business, yet is always happy for any leads which I can provide as a result of my nosiness.”Tamsyn nodded her agreement, “Yes, I know the type. He didn’t seem very polite on the phone, but this Chief Hollenbeck told me that he was a casual acquaintance of my grandfather’s. The Chief said he was as concerned as I. He told me he was putting his best man on the case, a Detective Coombs, but I got the feeling I was just being brushed off. Why the Chief bothered to speak to me at all, I don’t know. Here it is a month later and the police are no closer to knowing what has become of my grandfather than they were the night I reported him missing. As I said, the official in charge of the investigation, Detective Coombs, has as much as told me that I may as well give up on ever seeing my dear missing grandfather again.”Tamsyn pulled a tissue from her tote, daubed at her eyes and nose, then looked to me as if for guidance with her emotionally painful hardship. The rain outside was very icy, now. Thousands of pellets were clattering on the roof of the bungalow. I had been making notes while Tamsyn was talking. I flipped to a new page, then offered words which I hoped would be of some consolation to her, yet without intimating any false hopes about the plausible reality of her grim conundrum.“Tamsyn, I’m going to do the best I can for you. I realize you love your grandfather very much and I have some idea of how traumatic this must be for you. Detective Coombs is a conscientious professional. We can be assured he’s doing all he can. You have made a wise decision in coming to me, because the higher the number of trained investigators searching for your grandfather, the better the odds are that he will be found. I don’t want to build your hopes up too much, though.”The fair maiden cringed at this blunt statement. The awful hurt that showed on her fair features made me deeply regret my insensitivity.“As crude as it may sound, the fact is that statistically speaking when someone has been missing this long, odds are they won’t be seen or heard from again. I hate to say it, Tamsyn, but there is a possibility that your grandfather is….”I hesitated for a moment. I was only making a bad situation worse, really jamming my foot in my face - me and my big fat mouth. I gazed sympathetically at the charming damsel for a long moment during which I saw the brutal reality surge meanly through her.In merciful empathy I didn’t complete that last horrid sentence. Tamsyn was an intelligent and mature woman. She understood the hard facts, which was very helpful of her because I wasn’t in the mood for dealing with any emotional outbursts. I stood up, put another log on the fire, then returned to my desk.I took up my pen again to scrawl another note for future reference, then I spoke very gently, “Tamsyn, please tell me about your grandfather’s milieu. Tell me about his coworkers, friends, people like that Mr. Hartley you mentioned, or any family you have living with you or who live in the area. I want to know everything about your grandfather’s social circle, his daily routine, and his past. Tell me all about him, including as much about his background as you possibly can. I want to find out what has happened to your grandfather. Honestly, I really do. The more I know, the better the chances for a favorable outcome of my investigation. Now then, what is your grandfather’s name and is he your maternal or paternal grandfather?”“He is my maternal grandfather. His name is Nolan Fitzgerald. We don’t have any family here in Rune City. My parents live upstate in Portland which is where I was studying for my bachelor’s degree in anthropology. My father’s sister also lives in Portland, but as for relations on my mother’s side of the family, well, most of our kin are in Ireland with a few permanently residing in Scandinavia.“In regard to my grandfather’s social circle, I suppose I have pretty much described it to you. There’s his assistant at the curio shop, Mr. Hartley, Milly the Station House waitress, and the casual acquaintances whom my grandfather sees when dining at the eatery - Chief Hollenbeck, for example.”“What about his customers, his clientele? You say your grandfather owns and operates a curio shop? What sort of curios are we talking about?”Tamsyn tensed again for a moment, then relaxed into the disagreeable resignation that it would be better for her to tell me what she obviously didn’t relish telling me than it would for her to hold anything back.“My grandfather is Nolan Fitzgerald….the forger.”I looked up from my notepad with charged excitement emblazoning the animated features of my face, “You mean the Nolan Fitzgerald? I knew his name sounded familiar! I can’t believe this! Your maternal grandfather is the famous counterfeiter who sold an unpublished Emily Dickinson poem to a European collector for one million dollars! Then after his arrest involving another forgery it was discovered that Fitzgerald himself had actually written the poem and passed it off as an original Emily!”“Yes, Bryn, that is my grandfather.”“This is incredible! I followed his trial! It was a national sensation! His legendary exploits were headline news for four solid months!”I paused briefly, “uh, but something happened to me, a situation came up. I didn’t get to watch the jury deliver their verdict. I didn’t get to witness the sentencing. The judge banned cameras from the courtroom, but they have those sketch artists, you know. I missed the very end of your grandfather’s sensational trial.”“That was a long time ago, Bryn. My grandfather completed his prison sentence at Raiford making use of the Law Library Program while there. Upon his release he returned here to Rune City and, oddly enough, with the assistance of that very same client to whom he sold the counterfeit Emily Dickinson poem, opened the curio shop where he specializes in creating replicas of artifacts and relics from ancient civilizations.”“You mean the person your grandfather duped for a cool million actually helped Nolan Fitzgerald set up in business when he got out of prison?”“That forged poem is now worth two million dollars. The European client who was duped, as you say, by my grandfather, is actually one of his biggest fans and most prominent clients. As a matter of fact, Monsieur Favreaux was instrumental in getting my grandfather’s sentence reduced to the absolute minimum allowed by law.”“Tamsyn, I apologize for using the word ‘duped’. It was thoughtless and impolite of me. Believe me when I say that I am a very staunch admirer of your grandfather’s work.”“Then how can you be a private detective and not even know that you live in the same town as a notorious convicted forger?”Now my face grew hot with pink patches.“It’s a long story. I’ve recently returned from an experience involving missing time. Have you ever heard of missing time?”She shook her head in the negative.“It’s similar to an alien abduction, so you see, there’s no need to worry about me thinking you’re crazy, because most people think I’m the craziest person in this town. My incident happened a year and a half ago. I wound up in the lollipop factory out in northern Oregon, but I’m back now and believe me, my detective skills are as efficient and as potent as ever, possibly even more so. Chief Hollenbeck was a captain when I went away. He was glad for me to be gone, but whenever I’m around his success rate at solving crimes always goes up, so even though he detests the very ground I walk on, he has to bite the bullet because I’ve got a second sight that he knows will never be his.”“You went away a year and a half ago?”“Well, I didn’t go of my own accord, and I still haven’t figured out how I ended up all the way across the country in Oregon. The truth is, I don’t really know what happened to me. The whole year and half is a blur - seemed to fly by in only a few hours. Most of it I don’t remember. I have flashbacks, though. I’m putting it all together in bits and pieces. Flashbacks, recurring nightmares, but hey, enough about me. We’re here to find out what has happened to your grandfather.”“A year and half ago is when my grandfather got out of prison and opened the curio shop.”“Well, then, that explains why I didn’t know,” I scratched my head with my ballpoint pen, “but I thought his trial was a year and a half ago? How could he have gotten out of prison a year and a half ago?”“His trial was four years ago.”I was dumbfounded. The missing time was still haunting me. I should have kept my big fat mouth shut. This potential client may come to doubt my aptitude. She may get up and walk out the door. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.Tamsyn looked thoughtfully into the fire. The gloom of dusk was gathering early. It would soon be night and the freezing rain would make getting home a very treacherous hazard, indeed. I cleared my parched throat and forged ahead as if I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself, “Now then, what else can you tell me about your grandfather?”“That’s pretty much it.”“What about this person he was to meet at the Station House? Who was it?”“I don’t know. I don’t know if it was a man or a woman or a group of people. I’m starting not to be sure of anything.”That made two of us.“Whoa, hey, Tamsyn, don’t go falling apart on me. I’m going to help you. I guarantee I’m going to find out something for you. The police, and no offense meant to them, but, well, they have other cases, whereas I can give the search for your grandfather my full attention, and I’m going to, believe me.”She gave me a weak smile, but her red-rimmed eyes exposed the doubt in her mind. I was starting to like Tamsyn McBane. I wanted to tell her as much, but somehow it didn’t seem like the time or the place.“Now, your grandfather’s assistant, Mr. Hartley - you said he told you of the meeting your grandfather was to have that afternoon, the one the Station House waitress said he didn’t show up for. So, this Mr. Hartley should be able to provide us with a name for the person or persons whom your grandfather was to meet. Which means I need contact information for Mr. Hartley. Tomorrow is Friday. Will he be at the curio shop? Or wait a minute, your grandfather’s been gone for a month, so, is the curio shop still open?”“Yes, the shop is still open. Mr. Hartley has been very understanding about this nightmare misfortune. He’s been very helpful and supportive. He’s keeping the business going so far, but my grandfather was the master artisan, the expert creator of the replicas, so I don’t know how much longer Mr. Hartley can maintain the economic health of the business.”Haydn tensed. His secret silent alarm warned him that Helen & Hortense were approaching. Quickly, he turned off the hologram machine. He knew that if he were caught, he would be taken before the Council of Moods for emotional adjustment. Should he be judged harshly enough, a Subliminal Contractor would be called in. Haydn’s libido would be removed. He had seen what that had done to other men. He shuddered at the thought. There was no way Haydn was going to let that happen to himself.Ever since women had taken control of society and all forms of authority, macho role-playing that catered to the male ego was frowned upon as juvenile and counterproductive. His male fantasy of being a slick private detective simply would not be tolerated, but Haydn knew he had nothing to worry about. His was a gifted talent for software engineering. He had covertly managed to override security protocol so that if anyone ever checked the hologram log, there would be no evidence of what he had been doing - all his sessions were automatically deleted the moment he exited the program.In a brilliant stroke of genius, he had embedded a one terabyte biochip into the soft skin of his groin. By this clever expedient, he was able to save his fantasy worlds so as to pick up where he left off whenever he began a new session. Elaborate world-building required hundreds of programming hours. Haydn was religiously devoted to not losing any of his time-intensive work.He left the hologram room and stepped up onto the mammoth observation deck. The interplanetary research vessel, Sagan, had entered orbit around Saturn's largest moon, Titan. Gazing out through the huge window of the gargantuan space craft, he sighed with a dismal note of languor. The incredible view of the dazzling cosmic scenery was sensational, yet Haydn was sated with mere looking. He was ready for a real physical hands-on challenge - something he could feel as well as see.The incoming data from all spectral analysis reconnaissance probes indicated prolific microbial life in the salty subsurface ocean of the mysterious moon with the dense nitrogen-rich atmosphere. He hoped there were organisms much bigger than microbes. The long monotonous trip from Earth had Haydn aching for the hazards of life-threatening excitement, but he knew better than to let his true feelings be known.The automated doors to the observation deck opened. Helen and Hortense entered the gallery. They were Haydn’s chaperones. All chaperones were female. Karate, judo, psychology classes, study of the effects of testosterone on male behavior, an hour in the gym each morning and an hour each afternoon - the female chaperones rippled alertly with brains as acutely trained and toned as their sinewy musculature. The jerseys of their uniforms were mirrored so that the males they monitored would have to see their own expressions when they faced their strict disciplinarian masters.Helen & Hortense confidently stepped onto the observation deck, the reflected sunlight of Titan setting their stern visages aglow with ethereal luminescence. Haydn smiled submissively, his long white robe giving him the appearance of harmless tranquility. The chaperones stood challengingly before him. Haydn bowed his shaved head in obedient supplication.