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Wolfram was a hot, hot kind of guy. When attached to the right circuit, he could be like a little star: Hot, hot, hot. He was a truly bright guy too. Smart, natural, maybe a little on the reddish side of the spectrum, but wasn't this the pride of his family anyway? Back in 1879, his ancestors looked pretty silly, they had round heads, died quickly. He was the new kind, the smart kind, the 100W kind, the seriously advanced kind of guy.
He was able to attract some really good attention. (Not just moths, mind you.) It depended solely on him if somebody looked good, or did not look at all.
It was his job to inspire, illuminate, guide. One of his ancestors even became the synonym for ideas themselves. Who else could claim that?
He was an honest, serious guy. He could make criminals talk, if only left with them for a little while. He could make scary places look beautiful, he could make the invisible very obvious.
He was the sun of the night. He was mighty, truly the center of his universe.
Which made him certainly not believe in a "creator". Those who make their own shadows do not believe in that kind of stuff.

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(Don't tell him that, but Wolfram feels relatively transparent and actually slightly lightheaded, if not even empty-headed... being able to shine the way he does, usually comes at a high price.)

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on August 14, 2003 10:11 PM.

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