Chapter 17 - in which Georgiy Menshikov takes 1,330 years to do nothing whatsoever

1, 330 year later, in g-nome portal readers’ chat room...

ZX81:  Er... guys, anyone know what happened?

Puffball:  No idea. Screen went blank.

Phlegatron:  Me too... I guess that means he did it.

ZX81:  Alright!! Way to go Josh. That was something else.

Phlegatron:  You’re telling me. Never experienced anything like it.

Puffball:  Yeah – like I was right there beside him. Did you feel the vortex?

Bandersnatch:  Hi guys, I’m back. Completely mindblowing. Like being sucked into a blackhole. Did you get the graphics? I couldn’t believe it.

TwinB:  Yo Bandersnatch – them graphics were to die for. How on earth did he do it? I mean I’m just reading text, right, and suddenly it’s like I’m seeing this awesome fractal stuff – completely mesmerising.

Phlegatron:  And feeling it right down in the pit of my stomach. Unbelievable!

ZX81:  Er...guys, I hate to trouble you but there seems to be a problem with the chat room’s time log.

Puffball:  Yeah, I was about to say! What’s with the year 3, 344?

Phlegatron:  Probably just a technical glitch. These things happen. It looks like Josh must have melted some of g-nome portal’s circuitry when he collapsed the Matrix.

7 minutes later – we rejoin the ongoing conversation...

TwinB:  Er... guys. Apparently g-nome portal’s clock measures true time as opposed to local time.

Bandersnatch:  Yeah? What of it?

TwinB:  Well, it looks like we’ve just blanked out for 1,330 years.

Phlegatron:  Oh come on TwinB – you can’t seriously expect us to believe that?

Puffball:  Yeah guys – I just run a scan of current star alignments – I hate to say it but TwinB’s right.

Bandersnatch:  But that’s absurd... we can’t have just blanked out for 1,330 years?!

Puffball:  Banders – I feel you man – it’s absolutely unreasonable but I can’t argue with the star charts. I’ve just gotta accept this.

ZX81:  ‘fraid so guys – we’re gonna have to stare the truth in the face.

At this moment the chatroom erupts in violence. Several of those who had been lurking in the shadows silently following the conversation come stampeding in. It seems to be a case of “kill the messenger” if you don’t like the message. Zargon, Jethro, MihaPi and Talia fight a furious action against ZX81 and Puffball. And who can blame them? Here in the real world we don’t take kindly to being told we’ve lost consciousness for more than a thousand years. Think about it – that’s quite a major insult to your sense of continuity, and to your prized and vaunted conscious-awareness too. I mean, how can I take anything for granted – how can I know anything’s for real if we can collectively be switched on and off like a computer – and who knows – perhaps shifted from one reality to another? That’s bound to make me squirm in my seat, and feel that I’m some kind of lab rat.

Ironically, the abuse heaped on ZX81 and Puffball has the opposite effect. Phlegatron, Bandersnatch and TwinB rally to their defence. More come out of the shadows, CheddarSqueak and Mandrake, Salusa and Vega, to join our heroes – for that is what they are – champions of the seemingly absurd, the outrageous, the preposterous yet simple truth. The same simple truth that takes us out of the chatroom in the year 3,344 to a trolleybus on Moscow’s Garden Ring route B, for at this precise moment in the year 2014 with the entire universe hanging by a thread, a barely noticeable bearded figure of unremarkable appearance, unassuming character and uncertain means is the nexus point where all is to be resolved, one way or the other. Ironically, the fate of the universe could not be further from the mind of Georgiy Menshikov as his trolleybus speeds fitfully between Smolenskaya and Park Kulturi stations, with him lost in contemplation of an astonishingly prosaic nature.

It’s outrageous that the destiny of humanity is at moments like this unceremoniously delegated to the care of such a spectacularly unqualified individual, unless, that is, you are able to look beyond the physical aspect of Georgiy Menshikov and see the sparkling iridescence so carefully concealed within, behind, his mind benumbing normalness. Oh, appearances can indeed be deceptive, for the same Georgiy Menshikov whose chief concerns right now are the potatoes he’s planning to plant this weekend at his dacha, is the unlikely, yet irrefutable key master of the quantum crystal of Arkensor, referred to as the Arkenstone in Tolkien’s Hobbit, and in truth of fact, a transdimensional crystal gateway, the seed stone of a great mother lode, hidden deep within the famed quartz mines of Arkansas, USA. Georgiy Menshikov would have been the first to deny this – being of a highly sceptical nature, far more interested in forest mushrooms and salted cucumbers than sparkly stones. In fact, had he known the truth it would have blown his cover – which was meticulously woven by his transdimensional over-soul to avert all suspicions. Looking at Georgiy Menshikov you could have suspected him of nothing whatsoever, other than being completely, utterly unexceptional. Such is the beauty of 3D reality, in which you as over-soul, are able to design characters in the same way an artist or a writer does, with cunning detachment and not a little humour.

“But why? Why” – you naturally ask, “does this transdimensional crystal belong to such a complete non-entity? Why not a hero or a great spiritual figure? Why not me, for that matter?

Why indeed! Such is the nature of reality. Nothing is quite as it seems, and at the end of the day, when we revert to the isness of be, all of us are mere players in the human drama. In any case, why do you contend that the crystal, whether or not it be “transdimensional”, is any more significant than the man himself? Let us presume that the crystal is not completely powerless and is, somehow, able to choose its rightful owner. Remember that Georgiy Menshikov no more knows that he is the key master of the Arkenstone than you know your higher functions. Furthermore, he never physically has this starlike stone in his possession – is merely quantumly entangled with it – yet this does not alter the fact that it belongs to him, that he is its keeper. It does, however, help explain why his potatoes grow as well as they do, and why he’s so good at finding mushrooms where no one else can.

So, beloved readers – when Josh collapses the Matrix, the Earth and all humanity with it, vanishes into zero point where it recombines with “what Earth is not” – the other side of the equation. You might imagine that this is a violent and destructive moment, as indeed, you might imagine the birth of the universe, the so named “Big Bang” was, but if this were so, if Big Bang had truly been destructive, it would have blown to smithereens the platforms of conscious reality – which evidently didn’t happen, or we’d not be here to discuss it. You might also imagine that the two sides, when they finally meet, simply cancel one another out with nothing whatsoever remaining – and that would be a perfectly logical assumption to make, but in practice, it is consciousness rather than matter that calls the shots, and consciousness lives on in a state of suspended animation, neither here nor there, patiently awaiting the day when it may or may not emerge from its quantum state of indeterminacy. There is, of course, no guarantee that this will ever happen, but there is at least the possibility – all things being equal.

“So you’re saying Josh was able to destroy the entire Earth and all humanity? That’s – er... outrageous.”

I agree, it’s shocking that one person is capable of collapsing the whole of Reality as we know it, and the whole of that Reality is none the wiser – for no thing has happened – as nothing is happening. In fact, nothing can happen as long as the whole of reality is perfectly snug in the Arkenstone of Arkansas, in a quantum state of absolute indeterminacy known by g-nomers as “what indeed”.

“But if nothing can happen – then how come we’re here, back in reality where things happen and things are real?”

Good question... But how would you know for sure whether you are “back here” or merely holographic beings imagining all this from within the Arkenstone? The answer is you don’t, unless you notice certain inconsistencies such as the physical discrepancy between your calendar time and the star formations overhead, or tune into your body clock which does, in fact, keep perfect time regardless of whether we’re aware of it.

“So how then, does Georgiy Menshikov save the day, if indeed he did, and why does it take so long?”

Unlike the rest of humanity, Georgiy makes absolutely no attempt to rationalise what is not happening. He simply continues thinking about the potatoes he’s planning to plant this weekend, then the wild forest mushrooms he’s eager to pick, and the salted cucumbers he’s so fond of. Nothing else really matters to him. The fact that his trolleybus seems to be taking rather a long time to get from Smolenskaya to Park Kulturi on the Garden Ring barely registers, for he knows and trusts that good things come to those who wait patiently, and thus, the mountain gets bored and decides instead to come to Muhammad.

“The mountain? Which mountain is that?”

I was speaking figuratively, excuse me. I meant, of course, the quantum mind which can’t help but notice that there is one point of certainty and predictability, namely Georgiy Menshikov's slow but consistent thought process, in its otherwise wholly indeterminate state known as “what indeed”.

“But what about everyone else – surely they’re thinking too?”

Yes and no. You see, in “what indeed” anyone who asks questions and starts trying to understand what's going on, finds himself in mental quicksand from which there’s no way out. The rational mind keeps looking for something definite, something real, for something that matters, and finding nothing continues searching ad infinitum. It doesn’t know how to let go. Georgiy Menshikov, on the other hand doesn’t...

“Doesn’t what?”

Doesn’t bother, at all. He’s never paid much intention to reality and has no intention of starting now that it’s at its lowest ebb. His potatoes, mushrooms and salted cucumbers are his refuge, his bomb shelter and our salvation, for he avoids trying to understand what cannot be understood.

 “So you’re saying that Georgiy Menshikov spends 1,330 years doing nothing – simply thinking about potatoes, wild forest mushrooms and salted cucumbers?”

Oh no, more than that... Sensing that he has all the time in the world he slows down his thought processes until they match the resonant frequency of the quantum mind, so that his thoughts, trip the switch of indeterminacy and start to materialise around him.

The quantum mind gets involuntarily drawn deeper and deeper into his slow, powerful thinkings, and using Georgiy Menshikov’s thoughts as the seed crystal, it births and grows an entirely new reality around them. Within the mythical Arkenstone of Arkansas, the quantum mind is like a womb in which the seed grows into a child. 1,330 years later, critical mass is attained, the picture is complete, and the decimal point is inserted.

“You’re kidding?! A decimal point? Whatever for.”

Well, the picture is complete – nothing more can be added or subtracted from Georgiy’s powerful slow thought and so the quantum mind is compelled to insert the decimal point in recognition of this.

“And what?”

Georgiy’s masterstroke – he has one more thought – a thought he has kept in reserve all these years, carefully biding his time.

“Well? What of it?”

Oh nothing important really – but the quantum mind has already inserted the decimal point so this additional thought triggers Creation as now we have 1.1 – something more than complete – more than whole, more than 1. Something that confounds the quantum mind’s 0=1, and thus material reality pops once again out of the quantum vacuum of “what indeed”.

“So what was this amazing thought that caused Earth to reappear from nowhere?”

You don’t want to know – you’ll think I’m being trivial.

“No I won’t. I think I have a right to know. This is important.”

Ok, but don’t blame me if you feel disappointed.

“Come on, spill the beans.”

Er...[embarrassed pause] cabbage.

“Cabbage?”

Yes, cabbage. He suddenly remembered after 1,330 years of ultra slow powerful thought that he’d completely forgotten about planting cabbages. He needed seeds.”

“So you’re saying that the Earth was saved by one man’s desire to plant a row of cabbages at his dacha?”

Actually two rows, but yes, that’s more or less right. Such is the nature of “what  indeed”.

“So this is Big Bang, so to speak? The moment of Creation.”

Yes, or what the goblins refer to as the 27^th moment, only there is no bang, there is no explosion, there is no thing in particular to write home about – merely that which Is. At this precise moment the quantum mind, which is wholly outside time and space – inserts Georgiy Menshikov’s additional thought as a replica 1 within 1, and as long as the two switch on and off and exchange places in perfect contra-unison, the isness of 0=1 is not disturbed, and the mother Mind can continue in her state of sublime indeterminacy.

“And that does it?”

Yep, that does it. That’s enough to reset reality as we know it – a single breath, a single heartbeat of the quantum mind. Naturally, no one on Earth notices the lapse of 1,330 years barring a few g-nomers, nor the uncharacteristically flushed expression on Georgiy Menshikov’s face. It’s a solemn moment for him, and without quite knowing why, he announces to no one in particular his new name, Georgiy Bogdanov, which is mysteriously the name he now sees written in his passport – a gift you might assume, from the not wholly indifferent quantum mind.

Eventually, bits of this astonishing story filter through the semi-porous strata of the collective Mind, and four hundred and seventy six years after the event, the whole world gathers in what had been the very spot where Georgiy Menshikov, now publicly remembered as Georgiy Bogdanov, re-emerged trolleybus, Earth and all, from the quantum vacuum.

Yes, the celebrations are great indeed. Yes, humanity rejoices and gives thanks, with trolleybus parties, speeches and re-enactments of the “big sleep” as it’s now called, with festively decorated cabbages, but no, it completely fails to notice the presence of utterly unremarkable Svetlana Ulyanova in its midst, who has within her, energetically speaking, the same connection to the same Arkenstone as Georgiy Bogdanov – and who is thus, to all intents and purposes, the very same person.