# language packs researcher of big science henry swanson: once a week we get to walk steadily to a small warm next to one of the old chemistry labs and read as much as we can in the allotted time frame hundreds of books in this room with many places we can visit and explore we have to take part in this learning activity consisting of reading exercises taken out of this immense language pack a series of several hundred quality laminated cards with neatly printed text and full color pictures apparently the deal is to read them and answer questions on the back or reality pseudocode rnd scenarios based on what the cards say us and other researchers get this subcultural process going where we try to existentially reach as far into the cards as possible one researcher we know is up to level 8b another up to sub service level alpha 18/12c right now we're one of the highest explorers of the pack every week we manage to get through 12 to 15 cards within two hours right now we're up to white wizard towers of magical infinity overlooking mountain streams and the mystical ancient hunter forest level 7115/b75 up here the air is pure cold and thin and one floats among silent dreaming clouds in an adventure filled land of talking black dragons and sarcastic trees rolling green forever hills and cosmic pirate ships abound there is however this one quiet researcher who sits alone in the corner of the room everyone knows of them but not their name maybe ada blunt pigtails big saucer eyes and a small sharpish nose who according to local myth has reached as high as level 31 bardo hyperprime goldenstar x9 a set of language cards a good third of the way through the second box wow the second box each box contains 12 packs of 100 cards way out there we gather in our tight reading circle around the campfire at base camp knowing in our bones we'll never ascend to their level before we leave the 2nd year not jealously or disappointment rather just acknowledgement that certain hills in the datascape cannot be climbed before chi condenses into one's bones in any case they're all alone up near the top having no longer any means to easily communicate down to our reading and comprehension zone at their level they must be designing whole solar systems in their head one day we sneaked look in at the second box our flabby psycho stunned by word visions such as quotidian immaterial nadir and cacophonous they fly off the page and into our open skybird reading comprehension heart we try reading several paragraphs but we've no real idea what's going on neither a good andor bad thing as we often get good mood tones and hyper aesthetic responses from these accidental back pages in life's alien telephone directory they communicate more to us than any actual official or intended meaning supposedly there by default we're never tested on this language pack concept it's just something the schooled can read and enjoy but which is also vaguely educational the teacher who runs this scheme is a silent pretty woman in our minds a friendly witch who lives in the secret magic forest inside the magic cards long thick black skirts big gold loop earrings and multiple jangling bracelets their hazelnut hair hangs long down their arrow straight back they sit in silence knitting and caring for us we occasionally look up at them and they smile back and we feel warm and safe and therefore actually educated for once they're ace and often bring packets of chocolate digestives to share small furry woodland animals hide in the warm folds of their skirt we neverquite find out what this class is called a crazy mobile library of the imagination random metaphysical anomaly locally manifesting in super dull uk educational spacetime the rest of the time is fraught with humiliation the constant knotted stomach sense of still forever yet more terminally boring unanswerable and worthless questions two years later our best ever friend cool mike sit outside in our favorite hangout spot discussing our mutual experiences in deliberately underfunded uk public education our favorite spot is this shallow stone alcove two large dusty blue doors with peeling paint at our back nobody knows where these doors open to they've never been opened and it's this unacknowledged mystery draws us back every break time whatever the weather we're here talking together in a dimensional free energy sense we're still there now talking about wonderful things of clouds and castles hi adventures in far off lands about neat rock bands from canada about awesome playspaces like car wars about comics and wicked programs for the zx spectrum 48k home personal computer nobody else around us does this because they only want to play team sports and get gold stars for being square and obedient busy chatting about who fancies who this week and who's rising in the pop dross charts we however sit here up against the dusty pale blue doors leading to a secret location and observe others from our detached and cheerfully alienated critical distance one day mike says hey what about that oldskool reading thing we used to do we're like ah yeah it was brilliant hey let's go check out the room it was in we soon find it the door is open and we creep inside white walled emptiness awaits us the cupboards now bare of quality imaginative reading materials dusty shelves reach all the way to a high pale green ceiling a large color television on four black plastic wheels stands alone by the time smeared window overlooking bare playing fields of autumn a stack of gray plastic chairs rests behind the door there isn't even nothing in there anymore whatever it used to be filled with the happy laughter of researchers wandering barefoot in their imagination is long gone it all must have moved on down the road years ago oh how many countless sensitive souls suffered in hated uk systemic anti education how soul crushingly bored and worried it made us yet to this day we often wish we could visit there once more just to hang out again with our best mate cool mike and talk the days away the day before we were destined to never see each other again we both felt lonely and sad back at the lab a sudden pang of saudade overtakes us cool mike we loved you as our brother and still do // [[republic of bob contents | imaginary pastime republic of bob]]