This site can’t be reached: ERR_CONNECTION_RESET

 

Honestly Zie, I’m fed up to the back teeth of your…

 

              Signal cutting out.

 

Guys – I don’t know how to put this to avoid disappointing you horribly – but we appear to have lost signal.

Lost signal? What’s the big deal Reggie – we’re always losing signal, aren’t we?

That’s just the thing, Theo, this time it’s like g-nomeportal never existed.

How do you mean?

Yeah, speak up man, what’s all this about?

Bloody ridiculous – we’ll be back up again in no time, I warrant.

Just doing my best to keep you informed. Kindly refrain from shooting the messenger.

No one’s shooting the messenger Reggie, but you’d better redirect your efforts from dire predictions of website termination to getting the connection back up and running instead. What the hell do we pay you guys those seven digits of fiat per annum if you can’t keep the link stable.

I appreciate your frustration Ethelrood, believe me, and I assure you all the funds your association provides are accounted for to the last penny, but this appears to have nothing to do with maintaining a space-time swivel connection to the bionet – which in itself is no mean feat, as you well know.

Then what, in God’s name, is the issue?

You appear to have hit the proverbial nail on the head.

Beg your pardon?

God’s name.

Oh, for crying out loud Reggie, could you kindly save your theology for another, less erudite audience.

Theology? No, Ethelwulf, you are mistaken.

Mistaken, how the blazes can I be mistaken Chevrolet?

God’s name is the technical issue – which actually defines the nature of the problem we’ve run into.

?! You’ve lost me Teverg.

Believe me Ethelgruf – I’m completely aware of the fact that this is bound to make little or no sense whatsoever, even to the erudite association of the space-time bionauts – I myself am feeling stretched, pinched and trifurcated to the limits of endurance, I assure you, but let us agree to hold our calm at all costs – to trust that no matter what – we can remain true to our sworn pledge – to preserve g-nomeportal for all humanity – as our quantum gateway to manageable, knowable, is-able infinity.

Hear hear, well said Reggieglun.

Indeed. Reggibreg, you have our pledge, even though it take us into 13, 14, nay 17 digits of fiat funding.

 

Er… Merry – these sites seeming to be dropping like flies. What the heck’s going on?

3D Zie.

 

Huh?

 

3D is apparently going down.

 

Beg your pardon.

 

No need, you heard perfectly well what I’m saying. There’s no need for me to repeat myself, and in any case, I don’t have time.

 

Give me a break – you’re always telling me to avoid being dramatic – to take it easy – calm it down. What’s got into you?

 

Nothing.

 

Nothing? As in…

 

Precisely – as in nothing whatsoever. It’s on the rampage.

 

Yikes.

 

But stay calm Zie.

 

Stay calm? Nothing could literally…

 

Well, yes, which is why your reality’s looking a bit long in the tooth, isn’t it. We’re running into reversal precognitions.

 

Er… not sure I er…

 

Any time anything big, I mean really big, is about to happen to the Field, or is already in the process of happening, everyone starts precognitioning the flipside of the current iteration. It’s a kind of wave that passes straight though our consciousness – which is hardly surprising if you think about it.

 

Huh? Not sure my thinking’s quite er… reaching that mark.

 

Because our consciousness is the opposite of space-time, isn’t it – the unity in which the quantum Field of all that is, plus Nought…

 

As in “all that is not”?

 

Yep, is able to experience things with some degree of awareness – to the extent that there’s an observer element at play, isn’t there.

 

Oh God, Merry – you know this is going right over my head, don’t you. What’s the point – I ask you? in subjecting me to this kind of technification of Is. Can’t I just take it on trust, nod my head sagely and say “absolutely – zero equals one and never the twain shall meet” kind of thing?

 

Yes, of course you can, but do you really want to be held responsible for total mass genocide – and when I say “total” – I mean “TOTAL” to the utmost degree.

 

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. This isn’t happening to me.

 

I mean – don’t want to put you in an awkward position, or anything, but when you signed the articles of association agreement – and became the 13^th and final member of our g-nomikal quantum heart-y-ness – were you or were you not asked, invited, and instructed most determinedly to read the so-called small print?

 

Yes, yes, yes, of course I was, of course, and honestly, I honestly, honestly did my best, but…

 

Yes?

 

You know how it is.

 

I do?

 

14 days into the process I started experiencing recurring hallucinations.

 

As you were forewarned you should.

 

Yes, but honestly, it’s one thing to be forewarned, and quite another to experience yourself directly iterating the entire universe as a Mandelbrot beetle desperately, passionately, unconsolably in search of itself, and some kind of deeper, wholly unattainable, unassailable meaning.

 

You don’t mean to say that you failed to read paragraph forty three thousand, nine hundred and eighty seven, section six?

 

I…

 

Please don’t tell me you skipped it.

 

I…

 

Because the consequences are going to be catastrophic for g-nomeportal itself – not to mention the entire quantum field which has been beautifully entrained and balanced to perfection, to swivel on a single misplaced comma in the nineteenth syllable of God’s name.

 

What on earth?

 

Of course, Zie – this would all be a complete mystery to you, having failed in your duty to the brotherhood of g-nomeportality to read the bloody…

 

Language Merry – kindly avoid…

 

Apologies Zie – you’re absolutely right. Two wrongs don’t make a right. Your destruction of the universe, all humanity and life in general, bad though that may in fact appear to be to any detached, rational, sober-minded observer, is still no excuse whatsoever for profanity. I’m repentant – heartily.

 

Oh… Really? Well, that’s nice to know, for a change. But, if it’s not too much trouble – as things apparently are looking fairly grim, could you kindly explain what the significance of the misplaced comma in the seventeenth syllable of God’s name was or is?

 

Seventeenth? Did you say seventeenth?

 

Er, yes, was that a mistake?

 

Yes – I mean – No. I mean – Jesus Christ.

 

Merry – please, kindly refrain from taking the Lord’s name in vain.

 

I heartily, heartily repent, please excuse me Zie.

 

Er… Ok. Now, what’s going on?

 

The comma was misplaced in the nineteenth syllable.

 

Of God’s name. Yes, I’ve got that part by now. But what’s the matter?

 

The matter? Mistakes occur. Shit happens – as they say.

 

Well, yes, though I’m not particularly enamoured of the word “shit”.

 

Repentant. Humbly. Forgiveness. Obsequiousness.

 

Ok, Ok – don’t overdo it please.

 

And these so-called “mistakes”…

 

Yes?

 

Are, ultimately, the stuff of…

 

Of what?

 

That’s just the thing. They didn’t fit the scheme – the grid – the verse – they disrupted the infinite like the pea that prevented the princess from sleeping all night, even though it was concealed under seventeen mattresses.

 

Er… Still not sure…

 

Dealing with infinity – the infinite – nothing can de-infinite it – anything deliberate – anything intended – anything rational or purposeful or meaningful would have been dealt with in something infinitely less than short shrift, but not…

 

…

 

not…

 

…

 

not – I assure you, a genuine, unforeseen, unforeseeable mistake – if – in fact – mistake it was.

 

Huh?

 

For ultimately, the entire quantum Field – the whole bloody universe –

 

Merry!!

 

Abject apologies, humble repentance…

 

Ok, ok – the whole bloody universe what?

 

Starts trying to figure out if it was deliberate, or a mistake…

 

And?

 

And then, just when it’s almost certain it knows the answer – someone puts the comma in the wrong place again.

 

Er… You mean?

 

And the entire bloody universe…

 

What? What – God dammit!!

 

Springs back from the abyss.

 

What bloody abyss?

 

The abyss of knowing too clearly, too well, too much – what is

 

What?

 

Exactly. Thirdly – to be more precise.

 

Not again – please – for crying out loud Merry – don’t take me back into thirdly. You know how I despair of its tortuous unfurkability.

 

Precisely – for you are thus the God of the moment – reliving the dark night of his soul – reexperiencing the necessity, the terrible, painful necessity of God’s name being named, while at the same time – the horrendous, undigestible sense of ennui, of despair, of ever really experiencing once again – the unnamed, the unnameable, the undivided Godhead – in which God was not yet He, was not yet bound like Prometheus to his creation, to his universe, to his world, to his reality.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa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There – that wasn’t so bad was it?

 

…

 

Feeling better now, aren’t you?!

 

…

 

Always best to get it out of the system, isn’t it?

 

…

 

I’ll give you a minute or two Zie. You’ll be right as rain now that you’ve unfurcated the trifurcated bifurcation of space-time and God only knows what else. In short – unity – can’t beat it, can you, as long as there’s a little crystal seed of perfected error lurking somewhere in the infinite unknowability of…

 

Merry doesn’t finish the sentence – doesn’t even attempt to – as if the unfinished sentence is the very meaning of life itself – the very purpose of his unremarkable and highly disreputable existence.  Where the pause commences – Merry seems to dwindle, dwindle, dwindle ever smaller or further or less knowable, until something screams forth from Zie who feels the unbearable lightness of nothing much taking itself way, way too seriously – literally wrenching him from his existential agony of God’s name revealed in all its perfection – but with, of course, the horrible sense of a little, tiny pea, somewhere hidden, somewhere making what should have been perfect bliss and joy – an experience which requires a set of 94 voice-over actors to assist in the vocalisation of Eduard Munch’s great scream –

 

Cut it out Merry. You’ve said not enough!

 

Ah, you’re back are you Zie?

 

Back? Of course I’m bloody back – no thanks to you Merry – and your unfinished, undotted, un…

 

Furcation?

 

Calloo, callay – dear readers – something has broken, something has cracked open – like a bottle of champagne, or an Easter egg – I know not what – but suddenly Zie is rolling on the ground – which is quite an achievement as technically speaking the ground was far, far removed from where he was just now in the blogosphere of pure quantum data bits – in pleasaintly painful spasms of uncontainable glee.

 

Over a pint of beer in the pub that evening, Zie is feeling more or less back to his usual rather dull-witted, unimaginative self, and therefore allows the Shakespearean fool to take centre stage – presumably for the entertainment or edification of our socially disadvantaged subscribers, eager for a quick laugh at someone else's expense.

 

I still don’t see why their names keep changing, Merry.

 

Whose names Zie?

 

Ethelgruff, Ethelrood, Reggiemun, Theophilus…

 

Why on earth do you assume they were changing?

 

Duh! Are you trying to be stupid Merry, or what?

 

Or what, Zie.

 

Oh.

 

Give it another attempt. Switch to mentat computation mode. Let’s see if there’s life in the old dog yet?

 

Old dog? What’s got into you Merry?

 

Well, technically speaking you’re now more than 6000 years old.

 

Huh?

 

Genesis Zie – depending on whose version you prefer – personally I prefer Julius Africanus’ calculation from the year 240 AD.

 

Which is?

 

That is all started in 5501 BC – making you 7522 years old, give or take minor accounting errors.

 

Oh.

 

In any case, you’re not going to get a word out of me – not after your gross negligence…

 

Still harping on about that, are you?

 

Me?

 

Surely it was baked into the cake from Genesis minus one and counting.

 

Yes, you’re probably right – but that doesn’t alter the fact that our mistakes are…

 

Only truly mistakes if we fail to learn from them.

 

Excellent. So, kindly explain why their names kept changing?

 

Oh that? Pretty obvious really, innit.

 

Yes?

 

Because all names, every single one, was an offshoot or derivative of my singular name.

 

And?

 

And God’s name, which like a raindrop or a crystal has a tiny, fundamental flaw, a foreign particle lurking somewhere in its ineffable perfection – thus, like a slow-burning fuse is utterly stable, utterly predictable, until suddenly… poof

 

Huh?

 

It’s not.

 

And?

 

And then, as they say – all the hell shit breaks hits loose the proverbial fan!

 

And everyone's running for cover.

With nowhere to hide.

So, no one is immune, you're saying? The revenge of the typo...

 

Yes, I think that about sums it up. How else could infinity slow to an amble? How else could things matter so much is seems to hurt...

 

Sooner or later – no matter who, no matter what

 

When you’re least expecting it

 

Quantum payback

 

Incomputable indeterminacy

 

takes to the field 

This site can’t be reached: ERR_CONNECTION_RESET

 

and humble q makes itself known

 

Humble?

   'umbly

 

So, long and thanks for

 

  all the fish

 

0=1

 

 

 

Big fuss about nothing – Reggie – just wanted to up our fees, didn’t you? I don’t know why we pay you what we do. The bionet seems to take care of itself quite perfectly.

 

Absolutely Theo. Works like a dream, me thinks.

 

The end 

,        

the end

You can’t just eliminate all life on earth!

 

I know. Ridiculous, isn’t it.

 

Ridiculous?! It’s more than ridiculous. It’s positively insane.

 

As opposed to “negatively insane”?

 

Shut up Merry. This isn’t funny.

 

Or “positively evil”.

 

Precisely.

 

Well, now that we’ve established the “positive” side of my dastardly plan, perhaps it’s time for me to get on with it.

 

Hey… hold up. Not so fast Merry.

 

Zie, with all due respect – I don’t have a lot of time to spare. I have to open a new library on Zephel-smug Pitak at 764:0j local time.

 

Er…

 

In about an hour and a half.

 

And you’re just going to wipe out all life on Earth before that?!

 

Well, I’ll give it my best shot. Can’t guarantee 100% success…

 

Success? How can you talk about success when you’re planning to eliminate all, or most, life on Earth?!

 

Well it’s a job, isn’t it. Someone’s gotta do it. Like harvesting the corn. What do you expect Zie? All good things come to an end – even life on Earth, and frankly speaking – I think you’ve had a good run for your money.

 

Good?!

 

A million or more years of repeat civilisations, ending mysteriously, catastrophically when that little red flashing light starts disturbing the top right corner of my sub-etha screen.

 

No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.

 

It’s not like I’m new to denial, Zie. But time is somewhat limited. Don’t you think it would have been more constructive had you objected to my million year timeline?

 

I was just about to. A million years? We were all, supposedly, hunter-gatherers a mere 6 or 7 thousand years ago, so I fail to see how…

 

Funny the way everyone’s so desperate to believe government facts, isn’t it?

 

Government? These are historical facts Merry.

 

Ok, ok – whatever. But that’s not going to alter the fact that I’m leaving in approximately seventeen minutes, and human civilisation is about to be disconnected.

 

Disconnected?

 

Well, you don’t think I’m planning on killing everyone with ballistics, do you?

 

Disconnected? Like there’s a kind of matrix connection?

 

Finally, the penny droppeth.

 

But where?

 

Er… you’re all connected to my node. I’ve been providing the platform your so-called consciousness runs on.

 

Wait a minute…

 

16 and counting.

 

Would you cut it out. I can’t think straight when you’re stop-watching me with your inane countdown.

 

Ok. Mum’s the word.

 

You can’t seriously expect me to believe that the whole of human consciousness runs, somehow or other, on your node? What are you – claiming to be God now, is that it?

 

Well, I’ve never really liked the energy of the word “God”. It doesn’t, how does Gwendolen put it? “thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations” – does it.

 

That’s not the point Merry. I’m concerned that you’ve finally and irrevocably lost your mind.

 

Well, we don’t have long to wait, do we. If I have, then in fifteen minutes give or take a few seconds, you’ll have absolute proof.

 

But, surely…

 

Yes?

 

Surely, you can’t be serious…

 

Can’t be, won’t be… Being serious, Zie, is the last thing I wish to be – but that hardly alters the truth of the matter, does it. If I say that humanity runs on my consciousness node – then either accept it and get technical, or wait fourteen minutes and thirty seconds to have a good laugh, and declare me a delusional duffer.

 

Ok – let’s get technical.

 

Finally.

 

How?

 

Someone has to get the ball rolling. Someone has to take it upon him or her self to hold the space – to act as master node. In this case – it was me.

 

But you’re not millions of years old are you?

 

No more than you are.

 

?

 

Obviously we’re hardly talking 3D, are we.

 

Er…

 

So millions of years, can be, for the sake of argument, a single day, or a single year, subdivided a million times, and within the programme, within the experiment, you’d be none the wiser.

 

Oh.

 

Yes. That’s rather strange, isn’t it – to discover that our world and time might be a very localised effect. The important thing is not “how long” or “how far” is it?

 

Er…

 

Because, in terms of consciousness, neither space nor time really amount to much.

 

Then what ultimately matters?

 

The quality, wouldn’t you say?

 

I er… the quality of our lives?

 

Of our consciousness. To what extent you are able to get your localised consciousness really singing and dancing, as if it were and is the real McCoy.

 

You mean it’s not?

 

Well, obviously – not if it’s piggybacking on mine.

 

Then how can this be?

 

If you are willing and able to be – to bring yourself to a fullness of mind and presence – then the micro me that you embody here suddenly achieves resonance with the real you – they kind of interlock or synchronise. Bingo. You’ve now just become fully activated. Alive in your own right.

 

Er… does that mean I’m no longer riding your carrier wave?

 

Not exactly. You’re still going to die in twelve minutes, but then again – you wouldn’t care, would you – because you’d know that this is only a tiny experiment – a little programme – and none of the data is going to be lost as you have a broadband cosmic cloud uplink which relays everything of any value back to your Mother node.

 

So, you were the one who set this whole experiment up?

 

In a manner of speaking, yes.

 

How do you mean, in a manner of speaking?

 

Well, ultimately, you and I are all much of a much, aren’t we?

 

We are?

 

Absolutely.

 

So I set it up too?

 

Not exactly.

 

?!!”$%^

 

In this game awareness is everything, isn’t it? So, unless you’re aware that you and I are one – that we were both equally responsible for setting up the experiment, then it’s meaningless to claim you were there, isn’t it? It would be like claiming you’re God.

 

Which is what you seem to be claiming, Merry.

 

Yes, but only because I know that doing so is merely a technicality, even though it may be true, technically, but that it makes me neither bigger, nor better than you or anyone else. It’s merely the function I’m able to carry out – rather beautifully, if you don’t mind me saying.

 

Oh – so you’re proud of being exceptional, are you?

 

It seems that this last remark is sour grapes – has nothing to do with me or what I said, does it Zie – but a sense, rather, of envy or despondency that you’re not the one, in my place, claiming to be God.

 

I assure you….

 

Yes, but you only have eleven minutes remaining to make empty, meaningless assurances of no value whatsoever. You can use your time more productively, if I’m not greatly mistaken.

 

Listen Merry, I’m sick of you threatening me and the entire world with annihilation. It’s some kind of a sick joke. What on Earth do you hope to achieve by playing this macabre, twisted game? Have you really no better way to get cheap thrills?

 

Ah – now you’ve arrived at the angry, fighting phase – the warrior has awoken.

 

Well congratulations. You can score that as a victory if you like, that you’ve provoked me and I lost my cool. But that doesn’t alter the fact that I think you’re pitiable playing this kind of utterly inhuman game.

 

Excellent. Now – let’s compare before and after.

 

Huh?

 

Here – I’m going to show you your energy field five minutes ago, and how it is now.

 

?

 

Merry appears to bring up a 3D screen in the air, in front of Zie which reveals two living images – the first small and uninspiring, the second much more powerful, extending way further – connecting with some vague lines all around.

 

That’s me?

 

Yup.

 

Wow – that’s quite a change.

 

Yup.

 

Because I got angry?

 

Chicken and egg.

 

Huh?

 

You could say you got angry because you activated your field, and you required the mood of a warrior to hold it strong and firm – rather than fizzling out in an instant.

 

Oh.

 

Zie has a good look and starts trying to feel this field, those energy lines which he appears to be connected to. Call it psychosomatic, or pure fantasy – but he actually seems to feel something there.

 

Excellent Zie. Now focus on what you don’t really want to think about – the end of the world – the complete loss of your cosmic net in 8 minutes – not the fear – that will achieve nothing – here, look at me instead. What do you see?

 

Zie sees Merry’s energy field for the first time revealed in all its glory – extending out further and further – connecting to some vast, beautiful geometrical form of which Merry appears to be the centre – countless intersecting circles or spheres. The egg of life. The flower of life. Call it what you will – Zie can see and feel the living vibrancy – that nothing can affect Merry as long as he’s tuned to this incredible, powerful force, this bio-geometric field. Suddenly, the physical world, 3D reality looks kind of ridiculous – a tiny blip in an overwhelming field of is^ness. Zooming in Zie can see how the whole of his 3D reality emerges from one single strand which Merry holds separate from everything else, which divides, divides and divides again and again, ad infinitum, until here we are – more than seven billion people living in a totally real, totally physical reality, that’s only real, only physical because it’s part, though miniscule, of something vastly bigger and, more to the point, totally interconnected.

 

As long as you’re in your five senses, and your rational mind, you are bound by the magic, the power, the rules of 3Deity. Focus instead on the flower of life, on the near infinite that you just saw.

 

But how?

 

By feeling it.

 

Huh?

 

You felt it. That was the only way you could see it.

 

Suddenly, this dawns on Zie, that indeed, he felt it right in the pit of his stomach, and beyond – in a barely recognisable tug, the faintest of threads which somehow emanate from…

 

Not exactly the heart as you know it – but that’s the general gist of it. Oh, gotta go now Zie. Been nice knowing you. It's been a blast, no pun intended.

 

For a second – panic, blind panic – but something flashes up on the 3D screen that seems to be lingering in his mind’s eye – Zie observes his field fizzling away – till almost nothing remains – and anger – a kind of anger erupts within – not a hating anger – not a cruel anger – but an anger without any trace of pity – an anger which defies Zie’s initial response – defies the mood of despondency or defeat – which stamps a foot and declares no matter what the outcome may or may not be – it will stand brave, stand erect, stand strong: true to the vision – the flower of life – whatever it is – which comes from deep within – from a place of power within Zie.

 

Zie feels the lights going out, dying gut wrenchingly. The field goes down. Merry has withdrawn as he said he would. Zie breathes, breathes, feels, feels, white anger, calm and resolute holds the spheres, holds the greater whole – the allness, the isness, the… he is one but there are others. He cannot see them with his eyes, but he sees them nonetheless. Together they are nine. Together they hold the flower of life. Together they are one. And Merry – is that you? The nine ask simultaneously – as they sense their field flipping, so to speak, up to the next level.

 

Zie?

 

Merry?

 

What are you doing here? A library on Zephel-smug Pitak.

 

What about the others?

 

What others?

 

The nine?

 

You mean the eight?

 

I mean – we were nine, weren’t we?

 

Er… if you're including yourself, as one normally would, but numbers have never been my thing, really, have they?

 

Is it a rule that you’re not allowed to confirm or deny any of this from within any particular iteration of the field?

 

Ah… funny that, isn’t it. No idea what you’re talking about, but suddenly my tummy has a strange tickly sensation within so I suspect, I rather suspect you must be onto something.

 

So what happened to the others?

 

Honestly Zie, I’m not your nanny. If you want to know something important you really need to find it out yourself. That’s the only way you can verify anything at all in this cockamania.

 

Zie has no difficulty reawakening, reactivating the flower of life feeling of interconnected spheres – and senses the nine. Apparently they’ve all had the same idea, simultaneously – they’re all high fiving one another – electronically – so to speak.

 

Bizarre, isn’t it? Zie suddenly notices Merry standing beside him – he’s back in normal reality. The evening. Somewhat disorientated. 

 

How long was I out for?

 

Er… Not too sure, Zie. I seem to have lost track of time myself. But it’s the evening now, so you’ve been gone a while, haven’t you.

 

But the date?

 

Er… Like I said, Zie, I seem to have lost track of time. It’s not going to be as easy fixing dates as it used to be, but on the other hand, I’m not entirely sure that it was worth the trouble. It looks like you either have your cake or you eat it.

 

Huh?

 

Either you live in a world where you can fix time and place with absolute certainty – but find yourself trapped and unable to escape the iron dominion of things that are fixed rigidly, or…

 

Zie and the nine computate with bewildering speed. Their combined conscious mind  looks throughout the entirety of the field they encompass and with absolute certainty, and absolute serenity – they know that this new iteration of their world, their reality – can take them into incomparably more versions of…

 

You actually pulled the plug on us.

 

Us?

 

Amazingly – Zie is thinking of the nine – like they are his world – not the seven billion people who suddenly ceased to exist.

 

You see – you don’t even care about all those men and women who lost their lives.

 

I… don’t seem to be able to feel anything. Wait a minute. You’re evading the issue. You pulled the plug.

 

How do you think we set up a reality Zie?

 

I really don’t know Merry. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.

 

Believe it or not, there are protocols.

 

?

 

They may sound artificial or arbitrary – but they are aligned with the field you’ve just experienced at first hand – with the nine.

 

Er… And Zie feels, knows this to be so.

 

It’s a bit like donating a part of myself – a little energy – which I can do by creating a kind of debt – but ultimately nature abhors a vacuum – and she…

 

She?

 

She, for the sake of argument, won’t allow it to persist indefinitely. There must be a preplanned exit point.

 

So you had no choice?

 

I… er, wouldn’t exactly say that – but in the end, if things are to work for the best, they work in accordance with a geometry, or an underlying music or vibration – do they not?

 

I wouldn’t know.

 

No, unless you chose to – in which case you do.

 

So you thought we’d survive the apocalypse?

 

Maybe yes, maybe no.

 

You didn’t care?

 

Kind of that too. Caring, especially caring too much, affects the field, these interlocking spheres, if you will – interferes with the healthy, natural flow, the isness of be – for want of a better term.

 

So the master loves the pupil, but at the same time…

 

Correct, assuming the master is actually human, or alive himself.

 

Oh God – is their no end to these obfuscations and caveats? Do you have to eradicate every last trace of certainty or whatty-ness from the dialogue?

 

Would you have me give you a false sense of things being more than ifitudes?

 

I…

 

Zie starts to cry. Sobbing, not bitterly, but heartily, from the depths within, which are readjusting to a world that seems bereft of old familiar borders and boundaries. It isn’t a painful or particularly unpleasant feeling – and suddenly it’s over. Something has shifted, adapted to the new reality.

 

I feel no loss.

 

Like the anger you experienced. It came, it went. It served its purpose. In the old reality you would have personalised it, finding fault, looking for causes in a confusing tapestry of fear, guilt, shame and doubt – but now…

 

Now… Thank you Merry, for helping me arrive at the nine, for the world you gave me, and the world you took away. It was the perfect incubator. Now the egg has hatched and somehow I know that I am ready to live and learn and grow.

 

Amen.

 

 

Sunset. Music. Credits.

 

0=1

 

We would like to thank all the men and women who gave their lives to make this dream a reality. Their memories shall be cherished for all time, and in all likelihood, they are not half as dead as the script writers like to think they are. A sequel perhaps? What do you think? Answers on a postcard c/o Malcolm Mandelbread, Barnard's Star, or in the comments down below.

 

 

 

here and there – seeing things

Hum

 

Is it working?

 

Is what working?

 

Your quantum er…

 

Huh?

 

Your quantum…

 

Yes?

 

What’s wrong with me?

 

Huh?

 

Why can’t I finish the sentence?

 

Sentence?

 

I…

 

Yes?

 

I

 

Er…

 

I

 

Hum

 

Oh...

 

Zie finally notices.

 

There you are Merry.

 

Yes.

 

I only just realised.

 

Yes.

 

You’ve been there all along – haven’t you?

 

Yes.

 

There’s no moving involved, really, is there?

 

Yes, not really, as in "no".

 

It’s all just a…

 

Yes

 

different way of seeing things.

 

Correct.

 

So er…

 

Yes?

 

What happened to the old way?

 

Of seeing things?

 

Yes.

 

I don’t know. Does it matter?

 

No, but what keeps me locked in the new way of seeing things?

 

Oh that.

 

Yes.

 

Well, it’s like those 3D images – the magic ones where you have to see the picture by shifting your focus.

 

Oh – so I can shift back.

 

Of course.

 

Suddenly Merry is back down on the ground – no longer sitting on top of the flagpole, perched on a green cushion.

 

There – that wasn’t so hard, was it?

 

But – you moved – didn’t you – it was just a shift of my perspective, was it?

 

Correct.

 

Then what was it?

 

The chicken or the egg?

 

Oh, you mean there’s no way of knowing.

 

Kind of.

 

So are there any limitations to this moveability phenomenon?

 

Not that I’ve encountered. How can there be?

 

Well – you can just be anywhere you like, whatsoever?

 

What in fact is “anywhere”? All places are the edge of me, are they not?

 

Er… I was of the persuasion that places are kind of “here or there” but now that you’ve decided to unleash the full oneness of Q, the eye of the beholder appears to have taken centre stage.

 

Right.

 

So what gives?

 

Huh?

 

Something has to give, doesn’t it?

 

How do you mean?

 

You can’t just have unlimited inter-moveability, can you?

 

Er… why not?

 

Not without creating the next great limiting factor.

 

Ah… I see what you’re getting at.

 

Well?

 

Well, it’s going to take a while to arrive at the next great bottleneck on our journey back to All that is – the oneness of i – the isness of be…

 

You mean you need to get everyone else onboard?

 

I wouldn’t say “everyone else”, but it’s a bit like a phase shift isn’t it. Until all the water’s boiling, or all the ice has melted, or…

 

Got the message, thanks.

 

In other words – it’s not just about moving location, is it.

 

I think this is where you’re about to spook me out.

 

It’s about recognising that all of us are one serpent.

 

One life form would have been nicer.

 

Ok, one life form, happy now?

 

Back to the collective. I knew the western cult of the individual was too good to be true.

 

Yes and no, the oneness happens up there, doesn’t it – at the apex of the pyramid, if you will, while the other parts have to maintain their differentiation, their distinguishability.

 

Well, whadya know – another nose bleed of a paradox.

 

Yep. But it’s Ok – Q can handle it.

 

Not sure I want to put my faith in a letter, or a field which seems to be utterly uncontainable.

 

Actually, it’s a lot better than it looks.

 

It is?

 

Yes.

 

How so?

 

Remember all that shitty stuff that was happening – still is in places.

 

What, like genocide, world wars, famine…

 

Yes, that’s it.

 

Can’t say I’ve forgotten.

 

Well,  bear in mind that bad shit only really happens at the extremities of matter-factuation.

 

Huh?

 

Where things are taken to their logical conclusion – as inevitably they must be, where the boot sinks into the mud. It’s like a projection onto a screen. Only real there on the screen – but we never were, never really could be the projection – though it sure as hell felt like it was real – paradoxically – in 3D.

 

And?

 

And that was one of the boundaries that gave, no, that gives Q form and coherence in spite of nought.

 

Er…

 

The lowest common denominator, so to speak. The bottom line. The matter of factuation – where things get thinged – until they can thing no more, slammeth the door.

 

Er…

 

While on the other side of the curve – what do we have?

 

Not too sure, Merry.

 

We have cre-a-tiv-ity.

 

Creativity?

 

Yup.

 

And?

 

And? You’re kidding?

 

And what?

 

Creativity is the quantum elixir – the juice of Is – the anything goes – anything’s possible – nothing’s unthingable when C, big C, gets rolling.

 

Ok – so we have creativity – people invent things – build stuff – write stuff – paint pictures – what have you – and?

 

And – view the C curve.

 

Are you sure it’s a curve?

 

That’s just the thing.

 

Huh?

 

It’s in real time – any time whatsoever – and it’s a curve that is a wave, a plain, a spheroid, a toroid, and God knows what else.

 

Er…

 

Whatever it takes to keep things going.

 

…

 

Keep things alive.

To stop things collapsing under the entropic weight of matter-factuation.

 

Ah. I see.

 

Finally!

 

Wow. The Field liveth, breatheth…

 

Yea, verily it Goddeth, so to speak.

 

Indeed, apparently so. Kind of hard to get one’s head around – after all – we may be creative but this is taking it beyond googol.

 

Indeed. To infinity and beyond.

 

I never did figure that one out.

 

Me neither. Beyond infinity – kind of like a double negative, isn’t it?

 

Yeah.

 

So, presumably that was the only way we were able to engineer 3D – which certainly seems/seemed to be finite in many respects.

 

Until you start unclipping the point of observation and relocating any-which-where.

 

Any-which-what too.

 

Transmutation. Is that absolutely necessary? It’s going to make me feel mighty uncomfortable.

 

I know, but Q requires de-it-ification so there’s no helping it.

 

Damn.

 

Putting it another way – we’re on a training curve – reactivating the heart space – where literally anything goes... Only necessity’s going to really get things moving – and the need to shift through all the times, places and forms which were off-limits to i-D.

 

i-D... As in?

 

The bottom line.

 

Er…

 

Where D=1, i=0 and 3 is expended wholly in fixing things in place, rigidly – to matter-factuate without exemption. None whatsoever – other than membrane permeation or inter-dimensional leakage – kept to a bare minimum.

 

Too many variables. Merry! This is doing my head in.

 

Absolutely – which is why we never pay any attention whatsoever to explanations which try to enword what cannot realistically be enworded. Let it go. Words are yesterday’s story.

 

And er…

 

Yes?

 

What realistically cannot be enworded?

 

Anything whatsoever pertaining to the isness of be – i.e. reality itself and our place in it.

 

But…

 

Yes?

 

Then we can’t realistically explain anything whatsoever.

 

Bingo. Took your time, didn’t you.

 

Then what’s the point?

 

The point?

 

Of this – all these pseudo-rational explanations of things – the grand malarky of things…

 

Well, no point, as in zero point – as in – the point from whence all points are derived – which itself is not, cannot be nor ever shall be a point – though it’s perceived as such from the perspective of every other point.

 

So er…

 

Yes?

 

Zero point isn’t actually a point?

 

Correct.

 

But, er…

 

…

 

Isn’t that kind of – illogical?

 

Not at all. Strictly speaking it’s entirely logical – unless you fail to take into consideration the event horizon – which, in this case, collapses down to a single point – but could just as easily be described as a horizon, or even a zero thickness plain.

 

Oh God.

 

In other words – just because things can’t be explained rationally using language, doesn’t mean there’s no way of knowing them; nor does it mean that we should give up attempting to do so – for we can use means poetical, metaphorical or anecdotal to either convey the underlying, simple or fundamental truth, or to help trigger a truth awareness in our collocutor.

 

And you honestly believe that?

 

Why shouldn’t i?

 

Because we’re apparently talking about infinity here, aren’t we, which rather implies infinitesimal chances of success – if you don’t mind me saying.

 

Absolutely – but why do you assume that an “infinitesimal chance” is necessarily small.

 

…!

 

Just because that’s how most people in 3D interpret it. We just happen to be creatures of infinity, swimming in a quantum field – or something of the sort, which cannot, by definition, be less than infinite – so, it would appear that the infinite is the stuff we are made of. No?

 

Ok – fair enough – but it still looks highly improbable.

 

Absolutely – until you accept the absolute – until you accept that things are never, ever what they seem – other than apparently so – that in truth, or fundamentally, they are always directly knowable as an isness – as the flipside of the isness that I, coincidentally, just happen to be.

 

Merry – would you just take a deep breath and allow us to stand on terra firma a minute or two.

 

Of course.

 

I don’t see people translocating – or detaching from the field…

 

Wait a second – I never detached from the field.

 

Ok, ok, an inertial frame – how does that sound?

 

Better – though I’m not too sure about all these self-referential science terms – they sound great until a few years have passed and then they’re hopelessly antiquated. That’s why I prefer to hide behind the green curtain of infinity.

 

Green? Why green?

 

Never you mind.

 

What I’m trying to say is that your assertions and pronouncements are all very well, but in the real world people are firmly planted in one location – and nor do they…

 

So many negatives in one so young – comparatively speaking.

 

Stop dodging the issue.

 

Look – no one’s going to disengage voluntarily until push comes to the shove – until there’s no other option.

 

So?

 

So, the planet Earth or whatever it is that you take to be the Earth – ain’t going to last for ever in its present form.

 

Give me a break Merry!

 

We could be talking about months, weeks, or days.

 

Or likewise years, decades or millenia.

 

Yes – but I’m inclined towards the shorter term prognostication.

 

Why exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?

 

No, not in the least. Q, the Force, the Field grows stronger, does it not? The fact that we’re having this conversation in the first place implies change is already in the offing.

 

It does?

 

Absolutely. In fact, by some stretches of the imagination, it implies the change has already happened – but the Field is somewhat elastic and therefore visibly we don’t see what inertia is temporarily concealing. It’s a bit like the prescient writer’s phenomenon.

 

What prescient writers’ phenomenon?

 

Where writers tune into Q and start revealing all kinds of stuff that people are blocking or denying – particularly via children’s literature, sci-fi or fantasy – stuff that mentally we ain’t aware of, but which in our heart of hearts we already know.

 

Er…

 

So now’s a time when the heart of hearts, the seat of knowing suddenly comes to the fore, and starts taking precedent over the things we believe to be true, the things we understand to be true… which is what triggers a phase shift – and suddenly – it’s either do or die.

 

As in…

 

The point from which this version of reality is constructed – this interpretation of the Field – suddenly grows unstable and starts fissioning – in a kind of chain reaction – looking for a new stable configuration which doesn’t exist – and won’t do so – not until we’ve learnt to start flapping our proverbial wings and start engaging the field from multiple points of reference – 293 for a start.

 

293? Why exactly 293?

 

Zie – bless you my dear banana.

 

?!

 

If you could feel or see what that 293 “number” actually represents or actually means when you’re frantically flapping your wings – looking for a new equilibrium in a field which seems to be bifurcating uncontrollably…

 

A hole seems to be opening up in the pit of Zie’s stomach. At the very same moment he feels like he’s going to fall off the edge of the world, into this hole, the Earth goes through a decoupling – the programme which had been running smoothly, unnoticeably in the background, apparently for millennia, rendering “reality” utterly convincing, utterly apparently real – glitches, hiccoughs, suddenly becomes aware of the 293 base pairs which are no longer aligned. Chicken or egg – can we blame Merry for this statistically inconceivable coincidence – or should we put it all down to chance and the law of undeniability – that the minute we find ourselves denying something to be possible or true is the minute when we first become aware that we no longer have the unequivocal right to do so – that me evidently protesteth too much.

 

293 – I could go into great detail about the numerological significance of this number – but what’s the point? There never were more than four numbers – were there? All the others were like paints mixed together. Ultimately it boils down to a single unified force, a single unified letter, a single unified number – which themselves boil down to a barely digestible single unified pastille – and the universe ends when you finally figure out that whoever starts sucking it – ain’t going to finish doing so until he’s experienced every other variant of…

 

Finally it dawns on Zie that Merry is not in fact speaking at all – and boom… Zie’s attention shifts from the head to the other centre of attention which, apparently, has no difficulty whatsoever streaming multiple channels.

 

Zie and Merry are both sitting on top of flag poles – about a mile high each. Strangely enough neither of them are unduly concerned. There is nothing particularly wobbly or precarious about their situation. They’re having a series of conversations – without moving their mouths – I hasten to add – in which the cosmic shuttlecock of contention is struck back and forth – as they silently allow the universe to fill the improbability of their situation with the no less improbable situation of a 3D reality – far down below – which is no longer able to contain or sustain their field’s flattened curve. Tis no cause for despair. Quite the contrary, Q, it feels expansive and liberating. They are aware of multiple streams, multiple levels of conscious-awareness flowing energetically between their relativistic positions – and until it starts raining and they decide to notice that they’re now under cover in a lavishly appointed Mughal yurt – presumably north of the Tien Shan mountain range – though please don’t ask for anything more specific right now – the Earth’s magnetic field is shifting erratically – and I’m going to have to stop pretending GPS coordinates are anything more than guestimates.

 

I’m in love. Zie declares unexpectedly.

 

Merry knows exactly what he means – feeling the phase shift anatomically.  Me too! Wonderful isn’t it.

 

Zie’s barely able to articulate anything – such is the power of his “love” – as his heart of hearts suddenly realises that it is the centre of an all-encompassing, all-powerful love field which spans the entire world and everyone in it.

 

Incredible, isn’t it Zie.

 

...

 

Zie?

 

Oh dear. Zie has vanished, leaving in his place a rather unsightly puddle. Dark, treacly, bitumen. Smelling of roses, not in the least. What could have gone wrong?

 

You fool. Merry yells at the puddle furiously. What on earth are you playing at?

 

Noxious bubbles ooze from the puddle, glooping flatulently.

 

Thought you would put things right, did you? Suddenly sensed the Messiah within? Is that it?

 

The oily surface seems to wince, ashamed.

 

Can't say I blame you; we've all been there: all experienced the same urgent desire to sacrifice oneself for the greater good, which is, without a doubt, a noble instinct, but somehow doesn’t smell so good in practice, and never seems to work out as planned.

 

Why not? The shade of Zie bewails from the filthy ugginess of witch-oil-tar. I was only trying to help.

 

Trying to help? Merry shows signs of advanced exasperation. Trying to help?! Thinking you can resolve the quantum puzzle just because you’ve learnt how to sit on a flagpole? In any case, why on Earth would you interfere in the precious, sovereign lives of other beings – you’d deprive them of their own journey? Their own experiences? For what? You’d shorten the way? You think the field can’t handle the math? Really?!

 

I…

 

You feel for the oldest trick in the book – you’re needed – you’re the one – we can’t do it without you… Felt important did you?

 

If a puddle could possibly look like it wanted to crawl under a stone – that’s exactly how Zie’s icky blackness now looks.

 

How do you think they managed to create a reality of such twisted dimensions? By projecting evil? Give me a break.

 

Huh?

 

Most people are appalled and repelled by evil. The only way you could really subvert, really turn reality into a living hell was by selling evil to well-intentioned do gooders as a necessary, benevolent intervention. “They’re weak and vulnerable. They need your help.” The ego immediately perks up, feeling special, in demand, the one to put things right – and within no time at all the road to hell is paved, beautifully, with golden flagstones of sincere, good intentions. Missionaries going to Africa or South America to save the poor, benighted savages, doctors introducing western pharmaceuticals, government employees inserting themselves more and more into the private lives of private men and women, believing that their top-down solutions would solve another dire social problem.

 

So, you’re just saying we should do nothing to help?

 

Am I? Really? Is that what I’m saying?

 

Er…

 

Wherever do you get that idea from?

 

But you said that helping only makes things worse – paving the path to hell.

 

Yes, I did – and so you’re trying to extrapolate a rule from what I’m saying – a straight line or a curve to guide your actions – like the rules and laws our public officials like to make.

 

Then er…

 

Ultimately, I don’t care in the least what you do, and I don’t care if you want to spend the rest of eternity as a malodorous black puddle. Now that you’re opening up the power of Q you’re going to get better, faster feedback regarding whether what you’re doing is beneficial or not – but Q, our beloved quantum field – whatever it really is – is anything but rulable, anything but determinable – so any attempt to do so merely determines that you’re still thinking the old way – and so, as long as that persists, you’re going to have these rather splendid illustrations of the consequences of your good intentions, the consequences of your energy decisions.

 

But…

 

Yes, but I chose not to.

 

I have finished what I was going to say.

 

Ok, finish it if you must.

 

Er… couldn’t you have warned me.

 

Ditto.

 

Ditto? You chose not to? You knew I was going to get splatted, didn’t you? And that was ok for you, wasn’t it.

 

Absolutely. What do you expect me to do?

 

Well, taking a child across a road for the first time – you’d normally hold it by the hand and warn it to look left and right carefully.

 

Absolutely.

 

But you gave me no warning whatsoever.

 

Correct. You’re no child. At the quantum level  we’re dealing with infinity. No amount of preparation is going to help. Period. The minor inconvenience of transmuting into a stinking puddle of bitumen is, in many respects, the ideal starter to get you better acquainted with the real dangers of assuming you can or should step outside your personal responsibilities. You’re getting a massive amount of data at many levels – even the highly specific smell which is currently assailing your extrasensory nostrils is making you better aware of the nature of the what you have unleashed.

 

The puddle groans piteously.

 

We’re not playing around Zie – it’s welcome to the big boys league. But no – I had no idea you were going to trigger this particular event reaction. That’s the beauty of Q…

 

Huh?

 

It never fails to surprise us.

 

Tears of helpless frustration and self-pity steam from the surface of the oil slick. Merry says nothing – appears to be meditating or just chilling, enjoying the moment – though a careful analysis of the quantum field lines indicates that something is afoot, elsewhere – at a deeper level of Is.

 

Memories.

 

Correct.

 

My God! Zie is re-experiencing memories long since forgotten – intensely – every one of which in some way connected with the stinky puddle lineage – everyone of which Zie is now able to relive, re-experience in totality – feeling how he wove and created reality itself by crossing his field lines, or energy lines with other souls – and each time, no matter what the intentions were – pure, noble, selfish, grasping – in each instance there was an element of unwarranted intervention – however slight. Not a guilt trip – not at all. Just a re-experiencing, deeply, of how the field is somehow spun into reality – with a little twist, a little projection of me on others, a little tiny taking of what is not rightfully mine, or imposing, however slight, my version of things… and thus the world wags, and thus things are.

 

Having fun?

 

Zie notices Merry walking past his tree.

 

I’m in a tree, he thinks, nonchalantly – going back to his memories – going back to re-viewing in astonishing minutia what he has been and how things grew thicker and thicker around him. Neutrality. Nothing to prove. Nothing to be ashamed of. No anger. No despair. Just observing dispassionately and releasing – let go the things that no longer matter – no longer bind. And Merry – yes – he’s a part of this – why shouldn’t he walk past my tree. And tree – huh? – what am I doing in a tree? Zie wonders, and then the world returns in a flash. The stinky evocation of the oil tar. Zie looks at his arms and hands in surprise. I’m back. I’m me. Light as a feather he steps down from the tree – enjoying the sensation of almost flying – feeling the quantum lines extending through him into past and futures – connecting him with all and everything lightly, so lightly – yet somehow meaningfully.

 

 

0=1

Cuckoo la la