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wrong I've done to Julia. Did I ever really wrong her? What exactly did I do that was unlawful or
socially unacceptable? The lights turn on.

The feeling I get seeing the lights turn on is indescribable. I guess it could only be associated with
the dependence that all first-world countries place on electricity. When I look around the living
room I see the smashed remote, and then laugh. Now I'm staring back up at the light. MAX 50
WATTS.

I turn on the television, but it's not on the channel I usually have it on. It must have reset. On the
screen is an animated movie playing about a wolf that befriends a deer. It reminds me of a story
about a woman who could tell apart one gorilla she had raised from other gorillas who looked
exactly the same simply based on the behavior of her gorilla.

I eventually lose interest in the movie and go into that half-asleep mode. Not really sleeping, not
really awake. Not really dead, not really alive. However, I do have a dream that takes place in a
dystopian-apocalyptic setting. As if one or the other wasn't bad enough.

In the dream there is something wrong with one of my legs, and I'm trying to run away from
something, but I'm not sure what it is exactly because I never see it. I have a radio attached to my
hip, and on the radio I hear about people being arrested for crossing a certain property. I wonder to
myself how there is still time for civilization when there is barely anything left to be civilized
about.

There's a knock on my door. It's morning, and I don't feel like I was sleeping. At the door it's David
and Sarah, with Lynne behind them. She's still mad at me for acting like a child. Sarah tells me
they are going away with their grandmother, but that they will be back. As they begin to walk away
I stop Lynne and I ask her if she is going as well. She says no, she says she has to work, she doesn't
smile as she turns away. Man, what did I do.

For a second I feel humility, she doesn't even say goodbye. For some reason it reminds me of the
one time I saw my father cry. He was a very strong person, so to see him cry meant something was
disturbingly wrong. Like our planet not being in the correct orbit space or something. If you asked
me, I'd tell you he was grieving for his wife and his young son, but that's just me and my
assumption. He would never tell anyone anything.

And just like I remembered something from reality, I remembered something from fiction. The
dream with the switches on the walls; I now remember seeing another popular list of words. The
seven virtues. Chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness and humility. I grab the
composition notebook from my bed and write down those words next to the other words I saw in
that dream.

If I keep remembering words, eventually I will have them all, and I will be that much closer to
having the master list of words that make a person who they are. Behaviorally, sociological,
psychologically, genetically, biologically.

Chapter 36:
COMMON COMPLEX