Smiling Logic - Karan Abrari (books you have to read txt) 📗

The phone rang.

Her baby child had just woken up and she was trying to make him cry by momentary touches of her nipples on his lips. She missed his crying wet eye-lashes.

The phone's red bulb sensor twirled around for a human gaze and continued more impatiently as its first five rings remained neglected.

She ran out of the child's room in a rush, lest the boss wanted to give her an urgent commission. The RB-Sensor calmed down eye to eye with her and a rough voice began to talk out of the hall speakers.

Every body appreciated her baby as a genius. He was only three years old and he could convince a child locked TV's mind-scan-remote-control to turn on and show his favorite channel – "Thinking baby TV". He also knew the timetable by heart, so that every morning at 7 he played any shrewd trick on mom to get the chance to watch "Smiling Car", a child-group documentary about how delicate sentiments may get embodied in automobile design. That was while no one knew for sure whether the boy could realize the content.

Mom's wreck turned back to the room, bent over his cradle and began to smell his chest. Once she even kissed the bear with a balloon on his shirt. Then she wiped off her tears and left. Strange!

"Smiling Car" was about to start. The child gave out a phony cry and began to shed watery tears. She returned, took him in her arms, smelled his hair and twenty three seconds later laid him on the sofa in front of the TV set. She turned it on herself and even led the sensor, in her mind, to his favorite channel.

Then she left.

He felt he would learn more by inspecting mom's behavior that particular morning than by watching the program. The phone call had obviously stunned her. He noticed a spiral white smoke rising from the phone's micro speakers. It smelled like a spring garden.

The program on TV was also something. It discussed how believers in love may find an arch in a car's outlook a source of soothing.

They had animated a simulative air run on different car hoods and inspected the ways this invisible motion could impact a viewer's perception of the solid surface. As a super-scientific art work, they had even managed to turn some final, oriented electroencephalograph into a schematic wild rose by modifying a wide sheet of a flexible material against a cool breeze in a sunny-rainy fall evening climate.

Mom had dressed up to leave. She kneeled down beside the sofa and murmured some unprecedented remarks, saying:

"Learn how to survive! They are a lot of people around us, each of whom can function as mommy to you. Try to call them. If daddy fails to return by the sunset and you feel hungry, cry loud so that someone may call the police. Have a nice tomorrow!"

She kissed him on his hair again and stood behind the bare window. She took off her sunglasses and dropped it down on the floor. He had only scarcely witnessed her without sunglasses at presence of the shining sun.

She turned to him once again, yet didn't approach.

She stumbled out of the apartment into the corridor, opened the garbage chute… wiped off her tears.

She looked up to heavens through the ceiling and thanked God for her beautiful life.

Then she was happy in a wink.

She sent a last kiss in the air to him and entered the chute by the head.

She dived down and turned to an everlasting respectable memory, one which the boy decided to try to recognize.

She died her natural beautiful cease.

Publication Date: 07-29-2009

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