“Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras—dire stories of Celaeno and the Harpies—may reproduce themselves in the brain of superstition—but they were there before. They are transcripts, types—the archetypes are in us, and eternal. How else should the recital of that which we know in a waking sense to be false come to affect us at all? Is it that we naturally conceive terror from such objects, considered in their capacity of being able to inflict upon us bodily injury? O, least of all! These terrors are of older standing. They date beyond body—or without the body, they would have been the same. . . . That the kind of fear here treated is purely spiritual—that it is strong in proportion as it is objectless on earth, that it predominates in the period of our sinless infancy—are difficulties the solution of which might afford some probable insight into our ante-mundane condition, and a peep at least into the shadowland of pre-existence.”
Before I begin, let me add something to my last post: choosing fonts made me feel like those people showing off their cards in American Psycho.
I formatted my local disc D. The problem began some time last year, I think. The drive was always full, but there was almost nothing there, except three things. If I remember correctly, there was a disc image and an .nfo, besides my system backup. I couldn’t figure out what they were for. The eeriest thing about them was that even when I deleted all backups, almost all of the 187 GB of the drive was still mysteriously full, almost as if someone – or some thing – wanted it to be.
My roommate is a computer science student, and a fairly good one, [this is his blog] so I showed it to him. He couldn’t come up with anything, and said I should try formatting the drive. I decided to let it be for some time. After that, my laptop itself wouldn’t start, and I had to get it fixed (still haven’t screwed the lid on, if you read my last post).
It kept reminding me that my drive is running out of space (there isn’t any), so I tried to defragment it. After more than 24 hours, it went from 47% to… wait for it… 48%. Imagine that. It looked like I had no choice but to format it, so I just did. I’m backing up my files again, now, and D looks as good as new.
But what sent me racing on the old Ford over pitch-black mountain roads from that terrible farmhouse in the Vermont hills was something else. I’m sure I saw what I saw, but I don’t know what it could mean.
Seconds before I formatted the drive, it showed it was already an empty NTFS.