Complete and utter darkness filled the little room. The blackness, thick and heavy, hung in the room's corners, like pitch on a pole. In the north corner of the 12 foot by 12 foot room sat an over sized chair. Lost in it's floral pattern slouched a woman. With feet dangling over the edge of the cushion, not quite able to touch the floor, her feeble frame suffocated against the furniture's high back, and overstuffed wings and arms.
The room was a black hole of nothingness, where light and sound escaped away from. The woman sat trying to think of only the blackness, the emptiness, the silence. In this way she figured she could shift old thoughts downward, to make room for new. She found it hard to focus on nothing, as even the smallest idea would slip inside her head and germinate. How was she to stop her brain from filling to the brim?
"What would happen if my brain filled completely up with thoughts, old and new? Would the brain explode, expand, shut down, stop all together?" Staring comatose into the black void of space she attempted to control her thinking. STOP THE INPUT! However after hours, days, months, she could not stop the thoughts.
"If I cannot stop the input, the stimuli, can I instead reorganize their placement? Can I create a place for new ideas? Can I rid myself of the old and useless information to make room for the new vibrant concepts that have been so recently collected? Yet how do I define 'old'; is it hours, minutes, seconds? Or are they days, weeks, months, years? It is a conundrum. How do I decide what has value, for what appears useless now, may surely have worth one day? Once gone what will I do?
The brain was too immense for her to comprehend. The main center for sorting and compartmentalizing information, both eternal and internal, this organ operated as the body's mainframe. A giant muscle in charge of processing all thoughts, ideas, concepts, and stimuli. It held trivia gathered from the many hundreds of books she'd read, memories from the places she had visited, conversations with people she had encountered. How was it all stored? How was it organized and cataloged? As chaos scattered about, or orderly in files and shoe boxes? Was it alphabetical, numerical, or by subject? She could not stop thinking.
Then her original question surfaced again, "What happens when my brain is full? When you're full do you start forgetting, do you begin going backwards replacing old thoughts with new? Or does the recent input leave first, the old input last? Is this what leads to senility? Dementia? Death?"
She slumped in the blackness trying to concentrate on the darkness, on the vacant void of space. Stopping the input, filling her mind with NOTHINGNESS. Her old thoughts sifted to the bottom, somewhere making room for the new thoughts that would come. Thoughts she could not stop from being collected and stored somewhere inside her head.
