Chapter 1: College
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Rebecca Jankowski had studied at Yale University in 1977. Coke-bottle horn-rimmed glasses and cock-eyed optimism. 17 at the time.
Her initial studies had been in psychology. She had considered it as a way to understand the capriciousness of her parents and peers, and had therefore attempted to follow through to its sources.
And it was within that time that she had developed her thesis on what she considered 'The Thousand-Mile-Per-Hour Car'.
According to her, were a car to be published to the car driving world that could travel at one thousand miles per hour, not only would a human's motor functions and ocular capability not be able to withstand such a wealth of power, the highways (better yet streets) would be incapable of sustaining one's human ability to achieve top speed without either disintegrating the car or theirselves entirely.
She had gone on to refer to this as manic deprogression.
Manic deprogression went on to be how she explained mankind's jealous zeal at building bits of technology that were beyond the evolutional grasp of their own current capabilities.
Consider a film playing at one thousand frames per second. Not only would it not look real, it would look beyond real, more than we could hope to ask for. It would unsettle us thoroughly.
At her young age, she had considered this a threat.
In order to convert highways to a car of such speed would not only force us to commit ourselves to an impossible degree, already rendering the invention (however grand and progressive) as fruitless. It would also require us to convert the curves of highways, the declines and inclines, to accomodate the invention itself. Therefore, we would be left in the dust, and the invention wins.
In our need for more, it isn't that we create beyond what we can fathom. Creation is an admirable goal.
It is when you begin to restructure your natural life for the sake of said invention that you have compromised the inventor. Not to mention the producer, consumer, and public.
"A woman installs a television within her small apartment, one that takes the space of a large living room wall. The quality is perfect, the sound is awesome, yet it unfortunately does not fit within the living room of her home without removing the couch. The loveseat can stay, only seating two, yet the couch that sits three can no longer fit.
Can she help it if they make these things so big these days, these televisions?"
For the sake of the example, she makes a decision to lose the couch for the sake of the television, and that is a case of manic deprogression.
Chapter 2: Television in the 80's
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She had continued her studies to fruition and had considered them to be profound.
Upon finishing her education, she had entered the 1980's, which were full of terribly impossible tasks.
After World War II was an idea that had separated the right and the left in terms of politics.
The smoke had cleared, and American society was relieved at the idea of there being a brand new beginning.
We were going to get it right this time. Never again. Never forget.
The right had flown into religious doctrine, planned housing, purity of behavior.
The left had flown into mysticism, free-thinking communes, and freedom of expression.
The left had awkwardly examined Eastern philosophy and metaphysical meaning, while the right had held staunch the traditions and values of God awkwardly.
Back and forth they had gone, yet within the early 80's they had agreed upon one thing.
The children must be protected.
For once, after much trouble and trial, they were able to relate that such a precious gift must be defended at all costs. Although the left was busy defending the physical and emotional well being of children, the right was busy defending the moral and spiritual safety of same said children.
So, in 1981, they had collectively formed The Children's Benefit Program.
There had been plenty of fears in previous decades considering those of political or behavioral disrepute, yet by the early 80's the focus had been laid upon Satanists and child molesters. It had been refered to as 'stranger danger', an inimitable and undefineable threat that had no sure meaning and took little to no prisoners. There wasn't any assured way to define this threat, but what was more than certain was that it had to be stopped at all costs.
Rebecca Jankowski had been called in November of 1982.
Her recent studies had proven effective, those concerning the causes of color and shape within maximum security penitentiaries.
Her execution of slight images upon less than stable minds had led to a slight decrease in violent altercations and rapes within house. More significant than nothing, and worthy of her soft eager series of experiments.
She had worked with cards of her own, all of which she had designed over many months. They were intendent upon registering certain actions, expressions, and emotions from men that had commited any number of unspeakable acts. Namely against unwilling adults.
The results were often cathartic, most often because people paying the price for such acts are already desperate for anything that looks like God. She had offered that in the form of cards, in the form of media.
She had reffered to this as 'messaging' them.
Their responses were often passionate. They were living in a prison, after all. They had often said the right things, their time being convenient enough to do so.
Her studies had shown there to be an interesting difference between crash courses and standard tests. Not so much an improvement of their behavior, but an unspoken willingness for them to comply. She had at first thought that it was in the cadence of her voice or the carefulness of her demeanor, but had quietly realized this to be wrong. She had ignored it at first.
"Subject 197 had fought terribly in the latest study, yet after having messaged him, he had proven more docile.
He had been less receptive to the thought of rape than before in interviews. In conversation, he has been less aggressive."
A member of The Children's Benefit Program had contacted her.
They had asked her about a study that she had recently done concerning children and television.
In 1980, she had become increasingly troubled about the existance that television had had in children's minds. This was based off of visiting a brother of hers and seeing his daughter staring into a television with what she had considered 'beyond full intent'.
The brother had tried to communicate to the girl to no end. She was entranced and otherwise completely unavailable. Her brother was forced to discontinue communication to the subject and had shut the television off from behind the specimen.
The daughter had lost all rational faculties and thrown a fit. It had occured to Rebecca as an unreasonable and unfair set of events.
It was not because the girl had not gotten her way, it was because the girl hadn't a way to enter media and a way to get out of it. There was no middle. There was no lubricant.
Therefore, she had conducted a series of studies with kids ranging from 5 to 11, where children were given opportunities to watch cartoons and suddenly be cut off from them.
Over that time, she had developed a series of cards that would guide these little angels into being sucked into media and (at the end) shat out of it.
She had designed effective cards that were what you would show such children.
The 'enter' is a rectangular card. A green rectangle, within an orange rectangle, within a green rectangle.
What gets the child 'out' is a card:
A grey outer rectangle. Within that, a white rectangle, and within that another grey rectangle.
What was unsettling is that the cards worked. The kids were less anxious, and after many series of questionings, they seemed to be better off.
And they were. Far more receptive to playground activity, more healthily reactive to social stimulus, far more willing to participate and play. More innocent than usual.
Television had been the exclusive culprit at the time. Within that decade it had been the only fear.
A smaller message to subdue, for then.