19th
Tesla: The Pigeon Years
May 19, 1942
Day four hundred of my self-imposed exile here in the Hotel New Yorker. My patent battle with Edison rages on: I wish him worms. Compounding my frustrations, Bernice the pigeon and I are fighting. Apparently the worst sin a man can commit is commenting favorably on the plumage of any bird who is not Bernice—in this case, a macaw. A PHOTOGRAPH of a macaw, I might add! Irrational jealousy: Another scourge that eugenics will someday eliminate
Henceforth, I shall record my thoughts in an electronic medium I call an “ElectroDiary.” One day, every citizen shall have his very own ElectroDiary, on which he can record his own daily musings AND read the entries left by others on their ElectroDiaries. Eventually, we shall all read one another’s thoughts, as they occur to us! But by that point, with any luck, the Earth will have been destroyed by an effulgent cosmic Being shaped like a pigeon, yet composed of pure energy
Perhaps there is a way to transmit photos of macaws over the ElectroDiary? I shall conduct experiments… quietly. At night. While Bernice sleeps.
