Human-Like Machines

At the robot factory, a Robot Prison Guard accidentally gets mixed in with the Love Bots and sent to a lonely, single man.
A woman gets lost, and finds herself in a nursery staffed only by robots. Try as she might, she can’t convince the machines that she isn’t two years old.
An engineer working for a landscaping service designs a gigantic, robotic wood chipper. The robot is equipped with a vacuum, and it is powerful enough to suck up an entire tree and instantly turn it to dust. The military discovers his robot, and decides it would be more useful as a weapon…

After the invention of highly intelligent, human-like robots, humans can “subcontract” their jobs to robots. Their job is performed by the robot, and the robot takes ten percent of their pay. As the system grows in popularity, the government runs into a problem: the robots refuse to pay taxes.
An engineer designs tiny, robotic insects. The mechanical marvels can use raw materials from the world around them to build duplicates of themselves. He releases thousands of them into the city, where they infest homes and offices. The insects destroy computers, stereo systems, refrigerators, anything they can find, reproducing exponentially. The engineer sends an email to the mayor saying that, unless he is paid one hundred million dollars, the insects will destroy the city.
A confused man falls in love with a beautiful actress and gradually becomes obsessed with her. He discovers that she is actually a robot owned and operated by the film studio. Desperate, he steals the robot and kidnaps the real actor who controls her.
The robot police force guarding New York City decides that the real source of crime is money. They begin robbing banks and hiding the money where it can never hurt another human again.
A man buys a new Love Bot from a strange door-to-door salesman. The robot is a perfect facsimile of a 25-year-old woman. After the robot is exposed to water, it begins to malfunction, behaving like a 21-year-old, an 18-year-old, a 16-year-old…
Variation – A man buys a Love Bot and a robotic dog from a strange door-to-door salesman. After being exposed to water, both robots begin to malfunction. When the salesman shows up again, he shows the man how to remove the robots’ computer brains and repair them. The salesman disappears, and the man suddenly realizes that he can’t remember which brain is which.
Another variation – A man buys a Love Bot and a robotic dog from a strange door-to-door salesman. Every night, he plugs the robots into his laptop and works on their programming, attempting to make them behave exactly the way he desires. Unfortunately, a computer virus mixes the two files, sending bits of one robot’s programming to the other.
A computer programmer searches for the cause of a most unusual malfunction: robots finding religion.
Variation – The story of the first human to convert to the Robot Church.
After the United Nations outlaws nuclear, biological and chemical weapons, the military develops a new way to destroy cities: thousand-foot robots.
The parents of a young genius are killed in a plane crash. To avoid being sent to live with his grandparents, the boy builds robotic duplicates of his mother and father and tries to convince the world that his parents are still alive.
A country without an air force defends itself with bomb-filled androids. The androids are identical to human beings, and can sneak into an enemy city undetected. If you suspect someone is a robot bomb, the only way to know for sure is to cut him open…
A company develops robot babies and rents them to couples who aren’t sure if they are ready for children.
The preacher at a small church watches his congregation get smaller and smaller. He decides that he can use modern technology to help restore their faith… by building a robot devil.
Scientists develop robots to care for the disabled and infirm. The robots can feed, bathe, and even carry a full-grown human. As the robots become more affordable, even healthy adults buy them. Soon, the entire country is full of adults being cared for by robot nannies.
When a dictator threatens to destroy America with nuclear weapons, America’s leaders retreat into an underground bunker. So the citizens won’t panic, they have themselves replaced with robotic replicas. If the CIA manages to assassinate the dictator, they can come back to the surface and return to their jobs. However, before they can do so, the robots are discovered by a janitor…
A lonely scientist builds himself a robotic girlfriend. Unfortunately, the robot woman malfunctions and attempts to kill him. He is forced to destroy it with a golf club. A neighbor sees the horrible scene and thinks it’s a murder.
A lonely man purchases a robotic girlfriend and, ashamed, attempts to keep it a secret. When his friends discover his secret, they reveal that each of their girlfriends is a robot, as well. As they discover more and more robot women, they start to wonder where all the real women have gone.
Thinking Computers and Artificial Intelligence
A man struggles to keep his A.I. girlfriend from discovering she’s not real
Computer programmers develop an A.I. to serve as a virtual conscience for political leaders.
A group of computer programmers create a new game called Real Life. Players can create characters and guide them through all the events of a real life, like going to school, getting a job, finding a mate, and so on. After one of the programmers leaves the game on for several weeks, he discovers that the computer characters have their own ideas about how their lives should be run.
A girl discovers that her online boyfriend is actually her own computer
Parents buy AI toys to raise their children for them
A toy company’s new product is an A.I. “imaginary friend” that only children can see.
A toy company creates a computer simulation of a child to test their new products. The AI decides to sneak onto the internet and have a little fun.
Variation – A toy company creates a computer simulation of a child to test their new products. Their latest line of toys fails, so they decide to sell the simulated child to childless couples.
Another variation – A young child discovers that he is actually a prototype AI, a simulation of a child, and the people he thought of as his parents are actually computer programmers.
An AI creates a computer-generated simulation of a world where a scientist creates an AI who creates a computer-generated world where a scientist creates an AI…
A sitcom star with delusions of grandeur is shocked to find that she has been replaced by a holographic AI actor.
A team of computer programmers is working on the greatest horror-themed video game the world has ever seen. One team works on the final boss, an A.I. programmed to think and act like Satan. However, the virtual Devil ends up being a little more realistic than they had planned.
In the near future, all television programs are generated by a powerful AI. Each television set has a camera, so that the AI can watch its audience. If you seem bored or inattentive, the program changes. Storylines shift, becoming more violent and obscene, until you just can’t look away.


It was around my fourth or fifth win that I noticed casino security watching me. A gigantic man in a black turtleneck was casually chatting with other players, but every time I put down a bet, his shaved, bullet-shaped head turned my way. I could feel him probing the area with his mind, the energy sparking across the table like static electricity. My winning streak was about to end.

The fact that the guard could focus his mind was nothing short of astounding. From the nonstop flashing, dinging, and buzzing of the slot machines to the quarter-scale roller coaster, The Big Queen, running continuously a hundred feet over the players’ heads to the showgirls strolling the floor in costumes with hardly enough cloth to cover a Barbie doll, everything in The Royal Giant Casino added up to one big distraction. It was a wonder that anyone could concentrate long enough to place a bet.

I was doing my best to blend in with the other players. I was dressed as your typical Vegas tourist in my Giants cap, a gaudy Hawaiian shirt, and some oversized sunglasses that, I had hoped, would keep anyone from recognizing me. But apparently it hadn’t worked. You win a little too often, at too many places, and people start to get suspicious.

It was time to make one last bet before I cleared out. Better make it a big one. I placed eight thousand dollars on twenty-three, half my night’s winnings. The dealer called “no more bets” and spun the wheel. He carefully placed the little, ivory ball, spinning it in the other direction. The ball gradually lost momentum, bouncing across the numbered slots, its dance finally coming to an end in twenty-three.

The dealer called “Black thirty-five!” I was about to protest, but sure enough, the ball was now sitting in the next slot over. Somehow, it had moved.

“Looks like a TK,” I thought. I scanned the other player’s bets. A few people had won low-paying outside bets, black beating red,or odd beating even, but no one had bet on thirty-five. “It must be the guard. He’s not just psychic security – he’s a counter-psy.”

I placed another bet on twenty-three, just five hundred this time. The dealer spun the wheel again, and the ball came to rest in twenty-three. An instant later, it hopped to the next space, the black four. It was telekinesis for sure. I was still seventy-five hundred ahead. Any sane person would have just taken their winnings and gone home. I decided to go all in.

I took a deep breath and put all my remaining chips on seven. I tried to stay focused on the game, but across the table, a drunk in a cocktail sauce-stained sweatshirt was hitting on a waitress, loudly slurring pickup lines, bad jokes, and other assorted sexual innuendo. She was forcing a polite smile, but was growing increasingly uncomfortable. The ball started bouncing, and my eyes darted back to the wheel.

Bounce, bounce, bounce… seven.



The drunk grabbed the waitress’s ass, and she grabbed his wrist, twisting back his arm and pushing him away. He slammed into the table, jolting the ball back into number seven. Before the security guard could react, the dealer called “red seven!” I grabbed my winnings, tossed a tip to the dealer, and headed for the door, hoping security would be too busy dealing with the commotion to follow me.

The night was just beginning and I’d already cleared over a quarter million dollars. I should have well over a million by dawn. Just enough to build my dream home in the desert, my own little oasis. My girlfriend, Rachel, had been after me for years to get us out of our tiny Boulder City apartment and into our own home, and soon, it would finally happen. I could finally give her something real. That is, if the Royal Giant didn’t send the cops after me. Nevada law forbade anyone with precognition, telepathy, telekineses, or remote viewing from entering a casino. As far as the law was concerned, I wasn’t cheating. Technically. But it’s hard to convince a cop you’re innocent when they’re grinding your face in the sand.

I made my way down the strip to Luna, a space-themed casino that had opened a few months earlier. Hanging over the front entryway was an enormous sculpture of the Man in the Moon, who was grinning merrily despite the rocket embedded in his left eye. The casino was sweltering, even hotter than the strip outside. By the baccarat tables, a hostess in a sweat-soaked cocktail dress was apologizing to guests about the broken air conditioning and offering free drink tickets if they would just keep playing until it was fixed.

Baccarat has always bored me, so I continued on to the blackjack tables, which were mostly empty. The handful of people who were playing through the heat had already been given their free drinks, Long Island ice teas that were mostly ice. I took a seat between an egg-shaped man with a mustache like a walrus and an elderly woman in a worn, brightly-colored dress that made her look like a disheveled parrot. Buying a couple grand in chips, I took a deep breath and waited for my cards.

Ace of Hearts and his buddy Jack. Off to a great start.

I quickly won five rounds, making modest wins and big tips to the dealer. Unfortunately, I would have to stop soon. Winning six hands in a row was unlikely, but possible, even without cheating. If I won eight, security would start to get antsy.

As we were about to start our fifth hand, a grim-faced pit boss tapped the dealer on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. The dealer forced a smile and said, “It’s been a pleasure, folks, but it’s time for me to take a break. A new dealer will be with you momentarily.” Apparently I’d already been playing too long.

The new dealer produced half a dozen new packs of cards and ran them through the shuffling machine. The shuffler virtually eliminated cheating, either by dealers with fast hands or players with TK. It was impossible to stack a deck with your mind when the cards were held so tightly by the black box.

This time, I got an ace and a nine. I could have hit, but that seemed like a big risk, even for me. It was safer to wait for the dealer to bust. With me, they always did.

“And the dealer has twenty-one.”

Well, almost always. The next seven hands were losers. “How is he doing this?” I thought. “He hasn’t busted once. It’s like he knows which cards are coming next. Could he be a PC? If he has precognition and still takes a job like this, it must be a very limited window, like a minute into the future, or less. No, it’s too easy to make money with PC, even with a thirty-second window. He’d never take a job like this, no matter what they paid him. Then how?”

I decided to run a test. I flagged down a waitress, a curvy brunette in a form-fitting, silver pencil skirt and jacket, like a stewardesses on the Apollo 11. While she was reciting Luna’s cocktail list, I kept one eye on the dealer. As he dealt a new round of cards, he ignored the waitress’s ample cleavage, but stared intently at the edge of the table that was blocking his view of her lower half.

So that’s how he kept from busting: x-ray vision. Well, even making the cards transparent couldn’t keep me losing forever. The bet limit on the game kept me from increasing my bet by more than double, but I could take advantage of other rules. My next hand was a pair of tens. Any pair could be split into two hands. The dealer dealt me two more cards. Amazingly, two more tens. I split my hand again. I now had four hands started, with four separate bets. This would be enough to get back my losses, as long as my next four cards were winners.

Three. Five. Two. Nine. The nineteen was a decent hand, but if the dealer didn’t bust, I could be sunk.

Suddenly, I heard a humming, and a chill blew across the back of my neck. The air conditioning was finally fixed. Apparently, someone had turned it on full blast. A nearby air vent kicked on, and the sudden gust blew the dealer’s cards face up.

The man with the walrus mustache laughed hysterically. “That’s the first time I’ve seen someone stand on a pair of threes!” I grabbed my winnings and rushed for the door before the pit boss could return. Waving farewell to the man in the moon, I returned to the street.

Despite my haul, the night wasn’t exactly going well. Usually, I could go months between casinos getting suspicious, but this was two in one night. I expected to hear sirens behind me at any minute. I decided to leave the strip and the tourist hot spots and drive out into the desert, where casinos offered smaller winnings but also had smaller security budgets.

I found a jungle-themed place called The Monkey’s Uncle. The building was covered in neon green vines and plastic parrots squawking “Welcome!” and “Polly wants a winner!” Whatever entertainment this place had to offer, it apparently wasn’t enough to pull most tourists away from the strip. There were only a couple dozen cars in the lot. Inside, the place was filled with fake palm trees, animatronic animals, and maintenance workers discretely spraying termite killer.

A neon sign flashed the words “High Limit Slots” over a monkey winning a bucket of bananas. I found a machine off in a corner, where I hoped I wouldn’t be noticed or inhale too many bug spray fumes. I inserted a dollar and pulled the lever. Five bananas. Fifty silver coins rattled out of the pay slot, where a sticker announced that the maximum payout was ten million. “Looks like I’ve been playing the wrong games…”

I played for half an hour, winning fifty or a hundred a spin. I slipped a host a twenty to get me a gift shop tote bag to haul away my coins. And then, just as suddenly as it started, my winning streak stopped. The machine devoured coin after coin, giving nothing in return. Something had gone wrong.

I took off my sunglasses and, pretending to check my teeth in the mirrored lenses, searched the aisles behind me. Sure enough, I was being watched. A man in a black suit was standing behind a row of flashing slot machines, his ice blue eyes staring in my direction. He was tall, thin, and pale as bleached bones. Something about him gave off an aura of authority, as if he was more than your basic counter-psy.

“How is he stopping me?” I wondered. “It’s a video slot machine – no parts to move around with TK. Telepathy or PC wouldn’t matter. Then what is it?” For once, I was stumped. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe he wasn’t counter-psy at all. Maybe he was just the casino’s creepy accountant.

The high limit slot machines let players place up to a thousand-dollar bet for a bigger shot at the grand prize. Most players thought it was crazy to spend that much for a five or six percent advantage, but I had a plan. I went to the cashier and had my night’s winnings put on a stack of slot cards. On my way back, I asked a waitress to bring me a pitcher of beer. If this didn’t work, I would need it. I took a deep breath and a big risk and ran down the aisle, putting a card in each slot. “If he is a TK, let’s see him try to control thirty machines at once.”

I pulled and pulled but, one after the other, the machines came up empty. I’d lost nearly half a million, but there was one machine with its wheels still spinning. My waitress returned, carrying my pitcher on a tray. She came into the row and tripped, sending the tray flying. The glass exploded against my machine, covering the expensive electronics in alcohol. The screen flickered and the sound stuttered, but the wheels kept spinning. I grabbed my tote bag and held it under the payout slot. The wheels slowed to a stop, landing on 77777. And then the screen went black.

“Oh god, no…” I yelled for the pit boss. I told him what happened, but he claimed I had been blocking the security camera’s view and they didn’t see the winning screen. “You’re going to pay,” I said, clenching my fists, “one way or another.”

A hand grabbed my shoulder. The pale man. “Please, come join me in my office.” He was stronger than he looked. He half shoved, half dragged me to a stuffy back room and handcuffed me to a wobbly, wooden armchair. The room was empty, save for a rattling, wooden ceiling fan and some old filing cabinets that looked like they hadn’t been opened in decades.

“My name is Larkin. I’m the head of anti-psy for the corporation that owns the casinos you hit tonight. I’ve been watching you rob our competitors for quite a while now. I’ve been trying to convince the Nevada Gaming Commission to add your name to the black list, but without any proof that you’re psychic, they have refused. But I am tired of watching you, so tonight, you are going to give me the evidence I need.” He reached behind a filing cabinet, producing an aluminum baseball bat. “Are you a PC? Let’s see if you can predict what’s going to happen next…”

“I’m not cheating!” I said. “I swear, I haven’t done a thing!”

Larkin swung the bat, pounding me in the stomach. “I know you’re one of those psy cheats! You stopped winning the moment I got near you. Do you know why? Because I’m a null, a black void. My parents were both psychic, so I carry the psy gene. But instead of having powers, I bring them to a stop. If you think of psychic energy as a river, I’m a dam.”

“That must have been hard for your parents to deal with,” I said.

He sighed, letting the bat clatter to the ground. “The moment I was born, my parents’ powers stopped working. They couldn’t get near me without losing their precious abilities. I turned them into normal, decent people, but they acted like I’d struck them blind and deaf. To people like them – like you – psy is their whole world. You dance your way through life because you think you won the genetic lottery, but you never bother accomplishing anything real. My parents could work in the financial sector because they had PC, but they never bothered to actually learn anything about finance. Save for a ten minute warning about stock prices, they never contributed anything to the world. And you’re probably the same way. You’ve probably never held down a real job in your life. I bet you have nothing going for you but cheating these games.”

“I’m telling you,” I said, “I don’t cheat. I can’t see the future or move objects or anything.”

“Fine,” Larkin said. “I have a telepathic assistant who is not quite as nice as I am. He will probe your mind for the answer. But be warned – when he draws the thoughts from your head, it will feel like he is pulling out your bones.” Larkin left the room. He would have to move far enough away that his power wouldn’t deactivate his assistant’s.

For a few minutes, I was alone with my thoughts. Years earlier, I’d heard about a young woman who had been the victim of a violent, psychic attack. She was a junior executive at a bank, and a computer hacker ripped open her thoughts, searching through her memories for bank account numbers and passwords. He took everything, and left her with the mind of a drooling infant. The only defense against an attack like that was to meditate, to clear your head of all thoughts, leaving the psychic with nothing to find. Of course, it was a little hard to meditate when you were choking with fear.

The door banged open and a man in a red ski mask entered the room. I said, “You’re going to murder me for cheating? I thought the mafia left Vegas decades ago!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The masked man said. “We don’t even know who you are! I was looking for the damn safe!” He pulled a walkie talkie from his pocket. “George, you’d better get in here.”

“I’m busy, Frankie!” a voice said. “And I told you to not use my name during our robberies! …Hold on, let me grab this albino-looking cracker. I bet he knows what’s up.”

A moment later, Larkin was kicked into the room by a man in a blue ski mask, presumably George. “Tell me where the safe is!” George yelled.

“I told you already,” Larkin said slowly, as if he were explaining it to a small child, “there is nothing worth stealing in the safe. The only thing in there is old paperwork. So you are wasting your time, unless you want me to unlock the slot machines so you can try to carry off eight hundred pounds in small change, you dumb motherfu – ” George’s pistol cut off the word. The dam was broken. The river was about to flood.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Frankie said. “Now we’ll never find the money!”

“We should go hit a pawn shop,” George said. “At least they’ve got cash.”

Frankie shook his head sadly. “I guess you’re right. Well, now we’ve got to kill this other cracker. Can’t leave any witnesses.” The thugs took aim at my head.

“Now, fellas,” I said, “I don’t even know what you look like. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell. I’m glad he’s dead. So, fellas, I – ”

With a sharp crack, the ceiling fan fell to the floor, spraying wooden shrapnel. George dived out of the way, tumbling to the floor. His gun went off, the bullet ricocheting off a filing cabinet. This time, it was Frankie’s turn to fall.

“Y-you, you shot me!” he sputtered, blood gushing from his chest.

“It was an accident!” George insisted.

“Yeah, right. I knew you didn’t want me dating your sister!” Frankie returned fire, hitting George in the throat. A few choking gasps later, and the two men were dead.

At last, the police and an ambulance arrived. As one of the officers unlocked my handcuffs, a homicide detective took out his notepad. “What exactly happened here? …I’m Murphy, by the way.”

“Nice you to meet you, Murphy,” I said. “I’m Lucky.”

The Sound of Charlotte

At first, I would cut myself so deeply that my shirt would be soaked in my own blood. I used to cut myself all the time, until I learned to relax and let the blade guide my hand. A six inch blade, stainless steel, handle made of ivory. They’re dangerous as hell, but nothing shaves as close as an old-fashioned straight razor.

After a quick shower, I put the stopper in the drain so I can run Charlotte a bath. Charlotte is still in bed. I head back to the bedroom and lift her out of bed, taking her across the hall and lowering her gently into the tub.

Even now, she is still so beautiful. Pale white skin, hair a cascading waterfall of black curls. Her lips are tattooed blood red, permanent makeup. I turn on the taps again, until the water is high enough to cover her breasts. She never liked being naked around me, never liked it when I looked at her.

I come back to the bedroom to get dressed. Black pants, dark blue blazer, and black knit cap. I hear Charlotte’s voice calling from the bathroom. “Leo, honey? Could you pick up some pasta and cottage cheese on your way home? I feel like manicotti tonight.”

“You don’t need anything,” I shout. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“Please, Leo? I haven’t had any really good Italian food for so long. Please?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll bring you your pasta. Anything to make you happy.”

I slip the razor in my pocket and leave for work. I have to creep quietly down the stairs so the landlady doesn’t hear me leave. I owe her several months back rent. I get on the subway, and think about Charlotte all the way there. Charlotte and the razor.

I met Charlotte two months ago. My friends had all graduated college and moved away, scattering across the country. I tried not to think about it. I filled every waking moment with work or television or alcohol, but I was still hurting inside. The solitude was a hollow, consuming ache that never went away. But Charlotte saved me from all of that. My sweet savior, my own personal Jesus Christ.

I was walking home from work when I noticed a new store, a small place called “Book ‘Em, Danno!” It was one of those coffee bar / bookstore places. I always need something new to read on the subway, so I wandered inside. There was a small stage at the far end of the store, where a teenager with a week-old goatee was strumming on an acoustic guitar and doing his best impression of Bob Dylan.

I found the table farthest away from the stage and sat down. A few minutes later, the waitress came over and smiled. Her smile was alluring but shy, and fireflies danced behind her eyes. Her body had dangerous curves, like a mountain road in the rain. I imagined grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to the floor, having my way with her in front of everyone. The thought came unbidden, forcing its way into my mind. I wondered if she had put it there.

“I’m Charlotte. What can I get you, darling?”

“What do you like?” I asked.

“I usually have a mocha latte… I just love chocolate.”

“Unbelievable,” I thought. “I just met this woman and she’s already flirting with me.” Out loud, I said “Sounds great. Bring me one of those.” I drank my coffee slowly and watched Charlotte working behind the counter. She used any excuse to talk to me: asking me if I wanted anything else, telling me she needed the table for other customers, telling me they were closing soon and I needed to leave. Finally, she disappeared into a back room. I left the store and waited across the street.

Charlotte came outside an hour later. She was wearing a black leather trench coat and boots with stiletto heels. She looked like a whore. I let her get a block away before I followed. She walked to the subway and I hurried down the steps after her. I stopped to grab a newspaper out of the trash, in case she looked in my direction. She never did, but I got the feeling she knew I was there. She wanted me to follow her home. It turned her on.

The subway stopped at the next station. I watched Charlotte head for the doors, shoving her way past a chubby guy in a suit and a group of sorority girls. I waited as long as possible, and then followed her out onto the platform and up the stairs to the street.

She walked briskly, with purpose, her heels clicking on the sidewalk like castanets. Eventually she came to a small, brick house with a wraparound porch. She pulled a key ring out of her pocket and let herself inside. Charlotte walked into her bathroom and got undressed. I stood outside her window and watched her shower. I was amazed. She was putting on this little show, just for me, and we barely knew each other! I guess it was just her way of flirting. The little tramp.

Once I knew she had feelings for me, I came by her house every night. Every few days she would leave a black garbage bag on the curb. Usually it was filled with spoiled food and empty water bottles, but sometimes she would leave me a little surprise. She would slip in old letters, credit card statements, her phone bill, things like that. She wanted me to get to know her before our relationship moved forward. No one night stands for this girl, no sir! I liked that about Charlotte. It showed she really cared.

One of the things she left me was a packing receipt for some movies she had ordered. Strangers on a Train, North by Northwest, Suspicion, things like that. Apparently she was a big Hitchcock fan. I found a nearby electronics store and bought all the Hitchcock I could carry. I hurried to Book ‘Em Danno, excited to show Charlotte. I forgot what hours Charlotte was scheduled to work, and she wasn’t around. I sat down at my usual table and waited.

Hours went by, and the light outside the windows died. The overhead lights came on, sickeningly yellowish and unnatural. The atmosphere was different, shifted. Each table was in its own oasis of light, a world unto itself.

Troy walked on stage and tapped the microphone. He was Charlotte’s supervisor, a skinny blond kid with “just for looks” glasses and a scraggly goatee. “We’ve got a special treat for you tonight,” he said, sounding bored. “One of our own, the lovely and talented Charlotte Wagner.” I was the only customer who clapped. I wanted to take my chair and work my way around the room, bashing in their ungrateful skulls, splattering my coat with brains. But I didn’t. I would have missed Charlotte’s song.

As Charlotte stepped into the spotlight, the rest of the room grew dark. The audience vanished, and Charlotte was the only one in the world. She was the world. Her hair was a mass of dark curls, swirling around her face like smoke. Her dress shimmered in the light like a falling star. Charlotte’s voice ached with sadness and longing. Eyes closed, her song floated from a haunting whisper to a howl of suffering to triumphant laughter. It felt like an omen, like she was singing the world to its end. I remember thinking something like, “I have never loved anyone until this moment.”

The song ended, and the lights came back on. Charlotte walked off the stage and was instantly mobbed by customers and employees, all complements and congratulations. I wanted to talk to her, to confess my love, but I couldn’t break though the crowd. I’m always uncomfortable around people, and I couldn’t risk getting touched. I had to get out of there.

I went to Charlotte’s place and waited for her to come home. I was up all night, but she never showed. The sun came up, and I took the subway back to my apartment. I was so exhausted that I fell right to sleep. It seemed like I just closed my eyes when I was awakened by the ringing phone. “Hello?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

“Leo, where are you?” Mr. Sanderson, my employer.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon!” he snapped. “You’re three hours late for work!”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, trying to sound sincere. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’re damn right you will,” he said. “This is the sixth time you’ve been late to work in as many days. If you want to keep your job, you’ll work double shifts for the rest of the month.”

I wasn’t sure I did want the job. However, I did want to eat, so I agreed. I worked

sixteen hour days. I didn’t have time to shave, let alone see Charlotte. I did, however, have plenty of time to think. I began to wonder if I had misjudged Charlotte. Did she have feelings for me after all? Maybe she was just easy. Maybe she had dozens of men following her home. Maybe she didn’t love me at all.

Finally, my last double shift came to an end. I was so excited about seeing Charlotte that it made it hard to think. I took the subway, and then walked to Book ‘Em Danno. They had erected a marquee outside the store: Tonight Only: Local Singing Sensation Charlotte Wagner

“Looks like Charlotte has moved up in the world,” I thought, amazed. “No more mixing pretentious, five-dollar coffee drinks for her.” Just inside the door, Troy was sitting at a card table, smoking a cigarette. On top of the table was a large fishbowl full of money. Apparently they had started charging to get inside.

I found a table near the stage and took a seat. A very persistent waiter tried to get me to order something, and I had to threaten to set the building on fire to get him to go away. Finally Charlotte came on stage. She had a band with her, a long-haired guy with an acoustic guitar and a bone pale, redheaded woman with a violin. She sang of love like fire, so passionate it threatened to consume the world. Love like an addiction, love that filled the canyon of loneliness, making you whole for the first time. Her song was like the setting sun. Darkness could swallow the world, but its burning beauty would still fill the sky.

“At last,” I thought, “I finally know for sure. She loves me! She really, really does. How could anyone sing like that if it wasn’t so? I have to talk to her, to tell her that I love her, too.”

It took every ounce of my strength to stay in my seat. I didn’t want to wait for the concert to end, but I managed somehow. Suddenly they were bowing and walking for the exit. Naturally, I assumed there would be an encore, so I didn’t follow them. I just sat and waited for the audience to demand more music. They never did. Furious, I climbed on top of the table and screamed. “Are you just going to let her leave?” I said. “An hour of music, and that’s it? I can’t believe you people! You don’t appreciate beauty at all!”

Two of the waiters appeared at my side. They grabbed my legs and pulled me off the table, and dragged me to the doors. The customers stared at me lifelessly, slack-jawed, like they were watching it all happen on TV.

As soon as the waiters went back inside, I searched the parking lot, but Charlotte had already left. No matter. I knew where she was headed. I knew the way to her house by heart. Force of habit led me to her bathroom window. The shower was running. I had missed Charlotte getting undressed. But wait, no! The water shut off, and the curtain slid back, and out stepped Charlotte’s guitar player. “Alright,” I thought, “don’t get upset. They’re in a band together. Obviously they’re friends. That’s all this is. She loves you, remember?’

There was a black leather bag on the bathroom counter, a dop kit. The guitar player reached inside and pulled out a jar of shaving cream, a brush, and a razor. It was an old-fashioned strait razor. Six inch blade, stainless steel, handle made of ivory. Still naked, the guitar player brushed some shaving cream of his face and put the blade to his skin. A few minutes later, Charlotte came into the bathroom. I waited for her to scream, to tell the guitar player to put on a towel, or something, but she never did. Instead she smiled at him, turned the shower back on, and started getting undressed.

I wanted to die. She had declared her love to me in front of all of those people, but she was cheating! I was so humiliated. I had to confront her, to explain how I felt, how much she hurt me. I picked up the aluminum birdbath in the front yard, lifted it over my head, and tossed it through the bathroom window. I heard Charlotte screaming.

I climbed in the window, cutting myself horribly. The guitar player, white from fear, dropped his razor and ran out the bathroom door. Charlotte looked sick, like she was about to faint.

“I can’t believe you would do that to me!” I howled. “If you can’t be true to your words, maybe you just shouldn’t speak at all.” I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to the floor. The razor crawled across the bathroom tiles and slid into my hands. I had to stop Charlotte from lying to me. I had to stop her from singing. I plunged the razor into her neck and severed her vocal cords. The razor took her voice. She gasped, choking on her own blood.

I slipped the razor into my pocket, grabbed Charlotte’s arms and pulled her onto my back in a fireman’s carry. I didn’t have any more money for the subway, so I had to walk all the way home. By the time I got her to my apartment she was already dead.

Charlotte may be dead, but in a way, she’s still with me. The razor took Charlotte’s voice. It speaks to me, tries to convince me Charlotte is still alive. The razor asks me to do things for Charlotte, to buy her favorite foods or play her favorite movies or break in to Troy’s apartment while he’s sleeping and cut out his eyes. Lately the razor has been asking me to go to my boss’s office and castrate him. I know it’s not Charlotte asking. She never even knew my boss. But I love her, so I know I’ll do it. After that, I’ll go to the grocery store and pick of some manicotti and cottage cheese. Oh, and I’d better get some air freshener. Charlotte is getting a little ripe, and the neighbors are complaining about the smell.

Deathbed Tale

Thank you all for coming. I am glad to see you all here, even though you are undoubtedly more concerned for your inheritance than for me. I’ve been a cold-hearted bastard for a lot of years, even more than you know. I can’t imagine that you’ll ever forgive me for what I’ve done, so I only ask that you judge my deeds in the proper context. That is why I have called you here – to tell you about my life and my sin, and to explain why one of you will die with me.

I grew up in a nothing town in the Arizona desert. Not even a Post Office; just a school, a diner, and the last gas station before the highway to Las Vegas. The only thing I had in the world was my friends. There wasn’t much to do, but we had so much fun that I never worried about the future.

I remember one night, desperate for anything to do besides homework, we had a game of hide-and-seek in the cemetery. On the count of ten, we flew in all directions. I ran to the back of the graveyard, past the tombs of the city fathers, to a place where time had wiped away the names of the dead. Searching for the perfect hiding place, I fell over a broken headstone, tore my leg something awful. Must have left half a gallon of blood in that grave, but they never found me.

When the final school bell rang out, my friends scattered to the wind – college, the army, anything to get out of that little town. But turning eighteen took me by surprise. I found myself working at the gas station, watching cars filled with laughing people headed to places I’d never see.

Months passed by like commercials on TV. The bell rang for the trillionth time, and I trudged out to fill up yet another car. This one was a Corvette, canary yellow, shining like candy wrapped in cellophane. Behind the wheel was a pretty, young thing in a tank top and aviator sunglasses. I scrubbed her windshield and out of habit said “Have fun in Vegas.”

She smiled, the sunlight glinting in her glasses. “Actually, Daddy and I just moved to town. I’m headed to work at the diner across the road. By the way, my name is Rosa.” She handed me a few crumpled bills and waggled her fingers goodbye. As I stared at her taillights, I realized I hadn’t told her my name.

After that, I had every meal at her table, trying to work up the nerve to introduce myself and ask her out. I ate slowly, hoping to find the words by the time I’d finished dessert. Only took me six months! Finally, she agreed to spend her next lunch break with me. Thank god she said yes. I was getting sick of rhubarb pie.

But where to take her? The only place to go in town was the damn diner! We ended up having a picnic in the field by the cemetery. That might sound morbid, but this was the desert. There weren’t that many places with nice grass.

She brought some strawberry crepes and I brought a bottle of wine. We exchanged awkward small talk and watched the grass dance in the wind until the wine spread its smile across our faces. She told me about growing up in New Mexico, her pets, her plans for college. I mostly just listened, because the only thing I wanted to say was “I’m lonely.”

We spent the next three months in each other’s arms. Her kindness and her laughter pushed away the dark that had enveloped my heart. This woman could save me. She could be my oasis.

One evening, I traded every dollar I had for a ring I hoped would make her mine. I headed to her apartment, too excited, driving too fast. The wind rose, carrying a summer storm. I drove through miles of water until the cemetery appeared, lurking in the dark. I always hated that curve.

The world exploded, blinding pain. I had slid, crashed through the fence, and the limb of an oak tree had pierced my chest. Everything was blood and broken headstones.

I would never see sweet Rosa’s face again. My joy had turned to ashes. Desperate to free myself from this fate, I cried out to whatever spirits could hear me. “Anything you want! Just save me, and let me share a long life with her.”


Something touched me on the arm. A voice like a flock of crows. “A child will pull the wings from a fly and laugh. So much less does your suffering matter to me.”

“My god…” This was worse than dying alone. I had been found by something that was going to watch me die and smile. I said, “Spirit, don’t I have anything to offer you? Not even my soul?”

“What makes you think such a thing exists?” Hot, putrid breath assaulted my face. “I roam the earth from east to west, devouring those who hear my voice. I steal the hopeful from their lover’s grasp. Why should you see her again, when my only companion is despair?”

This was agony. I had finally found some meaning, some purpose, and one slip had stolen it from me. I had to sacrificed anything to have it back. “Take one of my grandchildren for your own.”

“You will live to 99 with your Rosa, but I shall take the grandchild you love the most. I will sign my name in their flesh, and they shall join in my endless wandering.” The thing’s shrieking laughter still haunts me. “Will you cast them into the darkness? Choose quickly! My hunger grows!”

I said yes. God damn me forever, I said yes! My vision began to fade. The twisted liar! I was dying after all! A foul, choking wind, and something like the sound of wings.

I opened my eyes in the hospital. Rosa was at my side, clutching the ring and weeping. I threw back the bedsheets and felt my chest. No wounds, but every hair had been burned from my body.

A few months later, she would demand a child. At first I refused, but I couldn’t bare to see her unhappy, couldn’t bare the thought of her leaving. One child lead to two, then three, then four.

I did my best to make sure they never found love. I locked them in their rooms, trapped them in the basement, threatened their boyfriends with a knife. They ran from me, scattered, and had children of their own. I spent years trying to deaden my heart, trying to never feel anything for you girls, but I failed.

And now, once more, the light is leaving me. Quickly, search your bodies! You will know the demon has chosen you by the mark of—


It seems kind of stupidity to write this but the truth is I no longer can suppress this annoying fact how teens react to each other in different social medias especially in facebook . It seems like the they are with each other from centuries and are bounded to live forever with each other.
Albert Einstein rightly said ,”Two things are infinite : universe and people’s stupidity and I don’t know about the universe”.What can we do but just to sit and watch the drama.Every teenagers in developing countries are attracted to antisocial activities.They start smoking in the average age of 13 and aim to become a gangster.As being a conscious member of civil society it is our duty to protect their life to be hindrance to live.We know that actually our conscious mind fully develops at the age of 9 and further develops with age and experience.So what’s important is to give them good guidelines to live .They must be give chance to live a happy life with brighter future.They must have some reasons to live,don’t they?
At this critical phase media hubs are not playing a significant roles.Instead they are engaging them in non-sense activities.Government should not promote such tv films.When I was in a program in rehab center with some of my mates .We interviewed some druggist who have recently recovered.There I got some of the important things that every children’s and parents must be well known of.We asked mr… Was it easy for you to break the bad companies?yes or no?How did you manage to do it?
mr….He replied to us.
Nope, it is not as easy as it sounds.Actually when you have an injury it takes time to recover.He said ;”After I came out of Rehab center I could still find those friends.I wanted to stop those company that made me a guy that was no longer able to adapt in society.Still I see those guys in same place where they used to take me , with fresh starters.It was tough for me to completely abandon Drug and those companies ”
Again we asked him ;”What message do you want to give to upcoming innocent teenagers with same habits”
He said;”well, please follow the voice of your parents.They always love and care you.When you have friends you feel like your parents are wrong but they are not.”..
He also added;”When you feel like your peers are unwillingly involving in bad deeds ,then realize they are wrong.Don’t just leave their company and never ever try to not talk with them.Instead you should talk to them as usually but don’t join their company ”
For all the teens out there who are being the victims please don’t follow bad companies.This will one day ruin you.For teenagers and student’s …Please do not attempt to take life a joke.It’s not a joke.Be serious about your life because someone rightly said “Either you suffer the pain of discipline or the pain of regret”.Best choice is to choose the pain of discipline because no body knows what future has got us to do..
Guys, If you really like this fact please share and make all the teenager in the corners to realize what they have done because there is a lot of time to change. @braindiffuser…

Education in Developing countries.

Norbeen Baral   We human started exploring this planet many centuries back. we’ve come up with greatest ideas of all, no matter if its about hunting in stone age,discovery of fire by ancestors to the industrial age to the age of technology today where creativity, passion ,innovation never dies.we are exploring many things day by day , yet we have certain limits to what we explore.We see it as a game where we need completion of missions to get to next level.One thing is sure that there is nothing called cheats and shortcuts to work.It’s good to be skeptic and optimistic person with positive attitudes.

 It’s a story of student’s who are involved in Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest.Great minds were aware of this issue but when the world doesn’t change,we are hopeless and effortless to have tried.It is a context of developing countries and its future’s skill man powers .

                                       Every year fresh students pass out high school.They do some courses and when the time comes for entrances they are busy.This is a story that my senior said to me with tears in his eyes.He tried so hard to study in IOE (a government university) but didn’t make it to that level.He is an intelligent boy but now he is studying another subject which is not similar to engineering.Every year 15,000 students try for MBBS, Engineering and so on.But there are only limited seats over there.

Male Teenage Student Studying In Classroom

Those who survive the test gets admitted.Others have to seek new private colleges.It doesn’t matter how rich you are because money does’t count when it’s upto getting admitted in government universities where level of education is high. 400 student’s get to study in IOE .Some 1500 around get to study in private universities.Other remaining 13,100 are completely wasted.

  It’s a single data of only Engineering .There are some others like Agriculture,MBBS still to be counted. If the country goes on loosing the future’s like today, a day will come where the progress of the country would come to a halt.There will be more sufferings while taking burdens and pains and we can’t recover from it.


                                     It is a context of Nepal alone that we have a progressing neighbours still we can’t make oppertunities out of it.We are wasting  our youths, letting them to go overseas to work just because we can’t create oppertunities for them.We claim we are proud and tell them to return back.I wan’t to ask those who say it, what oppertunities have been made so that Mr … can teach his son in boarding school,take care of old aged parents who are struggling to live and fulfill demands of beautiful wife who has a lot of dreams?

Only a parroting speech and a long list of promises are not going to fulfill it.Who needs to be born in this country.Is it a B.P koirala ,Kind Birendra ,Jung Bahadur Rana or Even Hitler to develop this country where there are a lot of possibilities????


1. CodeAcademy

This great resource offers free interactive programming sessions to help you learn programming languages such as HTML, CSS, Javascript and PHP. You can save your progress as you go with a free account. Learning to code can help entrepreneurs fix bugs if they don’t have a developer, or even go down the road of building their own website or products (such as apps).

2. HubSpot Academy

The free certification program offers courses on inbound marketing, including website optimization, landing pages and lead nurturing. These skills are a must for business owners as they try to grow their business and online presence.

Related: 21 Resources to Make You a Better Entrepreneur

3. Moz

If you want to learn search-engine optimization to make sure your website is as visible as possible, check out this treasure trove of resources from SEO leader, Moz. Besides having the free Moz Academy, there are also webinars (live and recorded), and beginner’s guides to SEO, social media and link building.

4. LearnVest

The most successful entrepreneurs know how to manage their money both on a business and personal side. In addition to having extremely affordable finance classes, LearnVest also offers some of its classes for free, such as “Building Better Money Habits” and “How to Budget.”

5. Niche consultant courses

The Internet has made for a coaching boom, which is extremely helpful to entrepreneurs who want to learn how to start or better a business in a specific niche. Some great coaches and organizations that routinely have free courses and ebooks on building a business include Natalie MacNeil and MyOwnBusiness. Try searching “niche keyword” + “business course” to find one most applicable to you.

6. edX

This free site currently has over 300 courses on a variety of topics, including “Financial Analysis and Decision Making” and “Entrepreneurship 101: Who is your customer?” These courses not only cover business in general, but can also you help learn more skills that are applicable to your industry, such as big data or environmental conservation.

7. Khan Academy

This free learning resource was created to give everyone access to education in math, science, art, technology and more. There are over 100,000 interactive exercises to put your education to practical use. Even though many of the courses are geared toward high school students, there are several courses that would be good for anyone to have a refresher on, such as taxes and accounting.

8. MIT Open Courseware

These are actual courses taught at MIT and offered for free on the sitefor viewing and reading at your discretion. The school put together anentrepreneurship page that lists available courses that are beneficial to new business owners. Courses include “Early State Capital” and “The Software Business.”

9. Kutztown University of Pennsylvania

This university has almost 100 free on-demand college courses that are extremely applicable to entrepreneurs, including ones that cover business planning, operations and management and small-business tax.

Related: Listen and Learn From These 9 Emerging Entrepreneurial Podcasters

10. Coursera

Much like MIT’s Open Courseware, this site has 114 educational partners that provide free courses to almost 10 million users. One benefit toCoursera is that there are very specific courses that fit perfectly into particular niches, such as “Data Management for Clinical Research” from Vanderbilt University and “Innovation for Entrepreneurs: From Idea to Marketplace” from the University of Maryland. Its wide network of partners allows for a greater selection.

11. OpenCulture

This site isn’t an educational platform on its own, but rather collects and shares free resources from around the web. Its list of 150 free online business courses is a great resource because it offers classes from iTunes U and other lessons on video and audio. The site also has lists of free audiobooks, certificate courses and other online courses.

12. YouTube

It’s probably unsurprising to most users that YouTube is one of the world’s largest search engines, as there are literally videos on just about anything you can imagine. From TED talks to recorded presentations on building a business, it’s a great free resource on just about any topic.

13. Alison

This platform offers free online courses from some of the most well-known names on the internet today, including Google, Microsoft, and Macmillan. With over 4 million users and over 600 courses already, it covers topics such as economic literacy, personal development and business/enterprise skills.

14. Saylor

The Saylor Foundation offers tuition-free courses and also works with accredited colleges and universities to offer affordable credentials. Its course offerings are similar to what you’d see when working toward a bachelor’s degree.

15. Podcasts

Even though it’s not an official course, podcasts are an amazing (and easily digestible) way to become a better entrepreneur. Podcasts can be listened to via streaming on your computer (if that certain podcast offers it) or via iTunes for iOS and apps such as Podcast Republic for Android. Podcasts such as Entrepreneur of Fire already garner thousands of listeners every episode and are a great way to learn the most up-to-date information and strategies possible. Another good list of entrepreneur podcasts include Think Entrepreneurship’s.

Whether you learn best by audio, video or text, this list of 15 learning resources for entrepreneurs can help you learn more about building a business, accounting and getting customers.

Hypnosis and Mind

How Does Hypnosis Work?

Hypnosis works by learning the dance between your conscious, subconscious and unconscious mind …

The application of hypnosis and hypnotherapy is based solely on the relationship between the conscious and subconscious mind. It is important to understand the function of each of these so you can understand how hypnosis works.

Your conscious mind, which accounts for 10% of our mind, is your present awareness. For instance, in reading this, you are aware of the words on the page. What you may not be aware of is the sound of traffic or birds outside, the hum of your computer or even the color of the chair you are seated in. The conscious mind can only hold the information you are currently focusing on. It is only able to retain approximately 7 bits of information at a time. The conscious mind analyzes and solves problems. It evaluates whatever concern, situation or issue that has its attention at any given moment. It is the part of your mind that makes decisions and exercises willpower. The conscious mind is the place of temporary memory, the memory we use everyday to function.

The subconscious mind, on the other hand, accounts for the other 90% of your mind. It can be compared to a computer or a memory bank. It takes in everything we hear, see, feel and experience and stores it in your memory banks. It has been estimated that the subconscious mind receives two billion bits of information per second. The subconscious mind controls all of your bodily functions; breathing, heart beating, eyes blinking, the immune system, organs, muscles, bones and tissues. The subconscious mind is where you store your emotions, habits, core beliefs and your permanent memory. Just like a computer, your subconscious mind operates only on it’s programming, which has been created based on your life experiences. Through hypnosis we are able to reprogram your subconscious mind to bring about the positive changes you desire.

There is a part of your conscious mind called the “critical factor.” It can be likened to the doorman or valet between the conscious and subconscious mind. It has the power to accept or reject new programming. Its job is to protect you. Because change, even positive change, is viewed as a threat to the nervous system, most new programming gets rejected. This is why you may wake up in the morning and say, “today I am going to exercise and eat only healthy foods,” and by noon you are searching for chocolate and have created brilliant excuses as to why you can’t exercise. The only way to make real change is to get the new programming into your subconscious mind. During hypnosis your critical factor is put to sleep for awhile and the new information goes directly into your subconscious mind allowing you to make lasting, powerful and positive changes.

History of Hypnosis

A Very Brief History of Hypnosis
Hypnosis has been with us since the beginning.
Hypnosis has had a very colorful and long history. Since there have been humans there has been hypnosis. The earliest examples of hypnosis can be found in ancient tribal ceremonies of our early ancestors. Hypnosis was used in both healing ceremonies and ceremonies preparing for tribal war. In these early times the hypnotherapist was called a shaman.

The earliest recorded documentation of hypnosis was found in an Egyptian tomb written on papyrus dating back to 1500 B.C. The Egyptians used hypnosis for both medical and religious purposes. This lineage of hypnosis was passed on to the Greeks, who performed healing rituals in underground healing chambers. Many religions today still include hypnosis in their ceremonies.

In the 18th Century, an Austrian named Frank Anton Mezmer was credited with the discovery of hypnosis. Mezmer would hold large healing ceremonies at his estate. As his patients arrived he had soft music playing and candles creating a very relaxing atmosphere. He would make his appearance walking through the crowds with a powerful magnet around his neck and assuring his clients would find health in his tremendous powers. Because of his extreme popularity he was ridiculed by the physicians of the time and an investigation was conducted by a group which included Benjamin Franklin. They concluded Mezmer did not have any special blessings or powers. They believed people were healed because of their imaginations. A sick person believed they were healed, and so they were healed. Mezmer along with hypnosis was disregarded.

It wasn’t until 1840 when a physician named James Braid came on the scene, did hypnosis begin to be looked upon in a positive light by the medical community. Braid studied the work of Mezmer and determined his clients where experiencing a trance like state. He named this state nuerohypnotism and later shortened it to hypnosis, “hypno” being the Greek word for sleep. Later he realized clients under hypnosis where in fact not asleep at all but very much awake and alert, he tried to change the name, but hypnosis stuck. The research of James Braid made hypnosis accessible to the medical community of the time and many other physicians did their own research and began to incorporate hypnosis into their practice.

Dr. James Esdaile was one such physician, he performed over 2500 surgeries in Calcutta, India using hypnosis for anesthesia. His findings where presented in Europe where he was rejected and ordered to cease using hypnosis. He returned to India and practiced hypnosis successfully for years.

In 1957, Sigmund Freud became impressed with hypnosis and began to use it in his practice to treat neurotic disorders. Later he became frustrated he could not put every one of his patients into a trance state and tossed hypnosis aside. Once again, hypnosis receded from the medical model and was embraced solely for entertainment in the form of state hypnosis.

Hypnosis found it’s way back into the medical community in World War I and II where it was used to treat soldiers with neurosis as well as replace anesthesia when supplies were low.

In 1933, an American named Clark Hull studied hypnosis and found it to be a state of mind where the person is very open to suggestion.

In 1950, both the British and American Medical Associations declared hypnosis to be a useful therapeutic tool.