mpts to establish contact
with another personality, i.e. with me. For this The Brain uses a
calling signal which has my name and personal description in it.

6. The only other linguistic phenomenon yesterday was Aristotle's "I
think therefore I am." (It is doubtful whether this indicates any
knowledge of Aristotle on the part of The Brain. I wouldn't exclude the
possibility that The Brain has accidentally and originally hit upon the
identical words by way of expressing itself.)

7. The manner of The Brain's self-expression appears to be strongly
emotional. (I would go so far as to say: infantile and immature.) Now,
there is a rather strange contrast between this undeveloped manner of
self-expression and the enormous intellectual capacity of The Brain.

So much about the facts. I could and should have formulated those
yesterday. What kept me from doing so were the vistas opened by those
facts. These are so enormous, so utterly incalculable that my mind went
dizzy over these vast horizons. Consequently I mentally rejected the
facts as impossible. Somebody once slapped Edison's face because he felt
outraged by Edison's presenting a "talking machine." That's human
nature, I suppose. Small wonder then that my ratio felt outraged as it
was confronted with a machine that has a life and has a personality.
Come to think of it: Human imagination has always conceived of such
machines as a possibility, even a reality--in less rational times than
our's that is....

Think of Heron's steam engine; it even looked like a man and was thought
of as a magically living thing. Think of the Moloch gods which were
furnaces. Think of all those magic swords and shields and helmets which
were living things to their carriers. Think of the sailing ships;
machines they, too; but what a life, what a personality they had for the
crews aboard. Even in the last war pilots had their gremlins, their
machines to them were living things. All imagination, of course, but
then: everything we call a reality in this man-made world has its origin
in man's imagination, hasn't it?

Now, and to be exact as possible, what happened last night was this:

12:00. Entered station P. G. (pineal gland). Pulsemeter still at old
place, not taken out for repair work as I had feared. Main Power current
cut 12:20 as every night. Gus called to front room: rush of business as
usual at that hour.

12:30. Reestablished closest approximation to preexisting conditions
accordin