absolutely not, by Jove

 

...invested heavily.

 

Invested heavily? What do you mean? I have no investments.

 

No?

 

Absolutely not. I live from paycheck to paycheck.

 

And?

 

So I'm interested in nothing other than trying to make ends meet, or emotionally, in things I actually care about.

 

Absolutely. Things you care about, but even those are just things, and thus secondary.

 

Secondary? I’m not sure I’d refer to family and friends as secondary.

 

No, nor would I. Lost in translation.

 

Ok, then what exactly did you mean?

 

This. All this.   Waving his arms all around.

 

As in reality?

 

Yes.

So, you're saying I'm heavily invested in reality, is that right?

 

Absolutely.

 

Well, I hardly see how I can help that. Reality’s not the kind of thing that anyone’s going to ignore or dismiss lightly, is it?

 

No, of course not, especially when you have family and friends, or an enviable position to defend.

 

It's not like we can just sell up and move elsewhere, is it?

 

Agreed. Most of us are essentially locked into a binding agreement. Indentured, you might say.

 

Yikes, that makes it sound like slavery.

 

Absolutely.

 

But fortunately, we're not slaves, we have free will, we have consciousness and a conscience. We can choose to go along with the flow of things or, if needs be, swim against the tide, painful though that may be.

 

Not true.

 

Huh?

 

Not exactly true if we never got round to studying, or pinpointing other investments, if all our capital is tied up in one company, one version of things, which it has to be if your reality really matters.

 

Oh.

 

Indeed. Without identifying alternatives you're bound to carry on tramping the same pathways, and alternatives don’t appear by magic, do they? By hook or by crook some of us have to head off into the unknown, beyond the ken of mortal men, in order to discover other versions of reality, other iterations of the Mandelbrot set: other.

 

What?

 

One two three…

 

Huh?

 

Merry does some rather extraordinary movements with his hands, arms, face and body. Zina fails to comprehend, but looks on, transfixed, then squeals.

 

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!

 

Piercing. Just the kind of squeal/squeak/shriek you’d expect when reality suddenly/unexpectedly flips into another, wholly unaccountable, unfamiliar arrangement. The same components. The same notes, so to speak, but rearranged from the atomic level upwards.

 

Breathe! – Merry rather helpfully instructs her.

 

Breathe? Oh yes. I thought I was dreaming. One doesn't really have to breathe in a dream, does one?

 

Not really, no, the body seems to take responsibility for the breath, but this is no dream, is it?

 

I... it's difficult to say. I can't really get my head around who or what I’m experiencing.

 

Absolutely. Your head is totally out of it. In fact, you’re currently in the process of growing a new one.

 

A new head? How can that be?

 

Every reality has to essentially start from scratch.

 

Split infinitive.

 

Really?

 

Yes, should be – has to start from scratch essentially.

 

Incredible Zina, even with your head presently an amorphous squidlike thing, barely connected to your body, you're still able to comment on grammar and syntax.

 

Must be another head I'm using.

 

Good thinking, yes, indeed. Your mind is able to operate from the cloud, supplying the basic rules of grammar and syntax to this alternative reality, until the new head boots up. In other words, you're never quite starting from scratch. 

 

Merry, what exactly am I seeing? Those walls around me seem to be er...

 

Biological?

 

Yes, I was afraid to say it. Don't know why.

 

Understandable really. There are certain deep-rooted taboos which carry across from one reality to another…

 

Oh.

 

So in the reality we’ve been referring to as 3D, for want of a better name, things are things: discrete – perceived as wholly separate from you. Ok, there are a few so called “magicians” or conjurors who seem to be able to connect to things using some inexplicable psychic link, are able to read those objects, or else move ‘em telekinetically, but that’s a fringe occurrence, right at the margin of an unquestionably objective material reality.

 

So you mean to say that they are able to connect via this biological paradigm in which all things are, perchance, part of some supra-organism?

 

Yes... but not necessarily. This is but one alternative way of organising reality and, in fact, the strict structural taboos required to form a reality always exist within a larger framework, with a dedicated set of taboo breakers: a small number of individuals who keep the system alive and viable by existing on both sides of that taboo.

 

But why?

 

Because fundamentally 0=1.

 

?

 

One side cannot exist without the other.

 

?

 

A positive – any thing whatsoever – requires a negative, an other, which can only exist in and of itself, if it be a positive in its own right.

 

Ah.

 

Such is the nature of reality. Essentially, we’re talking a zero-sum game, aren't we?

 

Oh... So nothing exists in and of itself?

 

Until you get down to the absolute.

 

And the absolute – does it actually exist?

 

Absolutely.

 

Ha ha, good ‘un!

 

No, but really, if it didn’t, how could we be conscious beings, discussing this?

 

No idea. Beyond me, totally.

 

Me too, but somewhere in the infinitely unknowable humble ness that is i know not , apparently things are not half as bad, half as confusing as they seem. The absolute – which is absolutely undetectable, must be present throughout – or else nothing prevails, zero fails to one, rhyme to reason... The proof is, as they say, in the pudding.

 

You’re an unhinged ideologue Merry. How on earth can you essentially destroy the very foundation of material reality and yet, still continue believing that things matter, that life has meaning?

 

Bless me, so morose, Zina, you are! All we’re doing is stripping away the Potemkin village façade to reveal the true, underlying nature of reality, warts n'all, and guess what?

 

What? Surprise me.

 

It be good.

 

Good?

 

It be good...  by definition.

 

Oh so now, having destroyed all things whattable, the archetypal matter of objective fact, you presume to present me with this whiffly, sententious replacement – it be good – insufferable pretentions of be-ness.

 

Ah Zina, i love you even when you spleen invectively.

 

Damn you Merry. This is... Zina starts pulsing feebly, looking for something to anchor to. Is there really no limit?

 

Not where the absolute is concerned.

 

And you would presume to... Zina stops in her tracks as the walls of the tubular reality they are presently experiencing start morphing and pixilating, responding to what she is thinking and saying, like a chameleon might.

 

Oh!       Oh!

 

You were saying?

 

No Merry... i mean  yes.

 

You mean yes?

 

Yes, I was saying until i saw what i was saying, interactively.

 

And?

 

I cannot own my own words. They were.

 

?

 

Absolutely.

 

?

 

They were, already. In the past. They no longer mean, or matter for that.

 

?

 

They were: are now unactuable.

 

Goodness gracious Zina, you’re sounding as bad as me!

 

I know! Shocking isn't it, but seeing is believing, isn't it?

 

I...

 

Or knowing.

 

Ah, i see.

 

Yes, I see – as Zina continues to follow the walls of their reality, which continue to reflect, to correlate the “what Zina and Merry are discussing” with the is and the be – or perhaps...

 

Perhaps what?

 

The isness of be.

 

Good. So losing everything we thought we had, everything we thought we knew, suddenly we find ourselves back at the one place where nothing can be lost, nothing can be taken away, nothing can be – dare i say it – positively.

 

Absolutely Zina, say it and be damned.

 

Ouch! – Zina is in the process of wincing when suddenly the walls of their biological reality open up to reveal...

[Jove knows]

The audience in ye theatre are hanging on the edges of their seats, so to speak, until something funny happens to the gravitational field of... scratch that, they’re no longer more than plasma husks – the essence of each and every audiencee essentially goes photonic – what in dear old 3D they refer to as “exceeding the speed of light”, as if light actually has a speed!

 

...photonic – allow me to undigress. James does allow himself to tangentalise, as if there’s no tomorrow, or today for that matter, either.

 

... photonic, ditto James², and something tells me that this is a sequence leading to infinity, for am I not, too, bound to the wheel of digression?

 

...photonic ad infinitum – for who would bear the whips and scorns of time

 

Oh dear...

 

The oppressor's wrong

 

I tried

 

the proud man's contumely

 

to stay

 

The pangs of despised love

 

on

 

the law's delay

 

thread

 

The insolence of office and the spurns 

I did

That patient merit of the unworthy takes

 

But maybe it’s to be accepted

 

When he himself might his quietus make

 

patiently

 

With a bare bodkin?

 

graciously

 

 ...

 

With grace? That's it? Ah yes, feedback, Houston, we have feedback!

 

 

 

Infinity’s coming through loud and clear

 

 

 

As in...

 

 

 

Silently!

 

 

 

 

 

 

You were saying...

 

Yes, of course Zina, we can’t do without them, can we, because ultimately...

 

Yes Merry, say no more. But – it’s so wonderful… Zina starts weeping, i mean really weeping, convulsively. Wow! The joy is too intense.

 

Easy does it Zina...

 

Ouch! She erupts atomically, nebulising, which would be bad, as you can imagine, were it not for the fact that she’s completely blissed out, ergo, super relaxed, not to mention the fact that you, dear reader, you, by observing the proceedings, provide a back feed channel, not to mention a kind of containment field.

 

The photonic wave now reaches the readers, one and all, as they too, apparently, go photonic, i.e., now exist in neither space nor time, in a rather blissful state of isness, otherwise known as death.

 

Er... not sure I like the sound of that.

 

Hush! I ain't done yet.

 

Ah, so sorry, Absalom! Naturally, from a photonic perspective death is a big plus sign...

 

Hush! You're interrupting the sodding soliloquy.

 

Ah, apologies... apologies Balthazar.

 

 

Angels descend from on high and apply masking tape to the mouth of our self-appointed narrator, Janus, allowing the photonic dead to once again regain their state of absolute deathly stillness... The show must go on, after all, must it not?

 

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscover'd country from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

 

Ah!

 

Ah ha!

 

But...

 

What d’ya mean “but”?! Bloody hell!

 

I...

 

Butting in like that.

 

I...

 

Bloody cheek.

 

But

 

There he goes again. Will no one rid me of this troublesome prie...

 

It's not my fault!

 

No?

 

No, if you'd let me get a word in edgeways:  who would fardels bear.

 

Who would fardels bear? What on earth are you on about?

 

By Jove he's right:  who would fardels bear!

 

You're all going bonkers!

 

Not at all – Tyler’s right an’all – who would fardels bear!

 

Fardels? I give up.

 

Excellent. Now, kindly rephotonise, Dylan.

 

Not sure I can manage it – too aggravated.

 

We’ll lend you a hand – one two three four (all singing in Horus) 

What would you do if I sang out of tune would you stand up and walk out on me? Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song and I'll try not to sing out of key, oh I get by with a little help from my friends, yes I get high with a little help from my friends, mmm gonna try with a little help from my friends, with a little help from my friends...

 

Listen! Do you hear it?! 

– shout out to Stanley Kubrick, don't forget to smash the like button etc – and Dylan is now once again fully photonic – but still somewhat nonplussed – which is a first – is it not?

 

Indeed it is Larry – a nonplussed plasma being! Who ever heard of the likes?

 

In his breakout conference chamber Larry makes history by introducing discord, or something very close to what we’d normally refer to as discord – to the angelic plains – ok, guys, i get it – they missed out the crucial line: who would fardels bear – but honestly, why all the kerfuffle? What's the big deal?

 

The humble photon – until now a symbol of peace – the hope for human salvation – is now polarising as we speak, losing its cool – hissing, seething – pandemonium, apparently.

 

Zina, something tells me we should get back to 3D reality with all its many whips and scorns.

 

Yes Merry, you're right. It looks like all hell’s about to break loose in ye heavens.

 

I er...

 

Yes?

 

– hope we’re not to blame for what's going down, up here.

 

Forget it lass. Ultimately, all the world's a stage, whatever world you happen to be in, and we... merely players.

 

True. So, er...

 

Down, down, down, into the heaviness of tribulations and chicanery, but somehow, something has changed...

 

What is it?

 

I don't know... How come...

 

What?

 

How come i don't feel, you know...

 

Depressed?

 

No idea lass. Unless, you’ve unknowingly disinvested things and become a vector...

 

A vector? 

Well yes.

Of what?

 

No telling what. I think the word best used is simply change.

 

Change? A vector of change. Yes indeed, why not...

 

And the rest, as they say up in the Kuiper photonic belt, is history.

 

 

Final credits. Soundtrack – All you need is love by the now absurdly named Mandelbutts.

 

...love is all you need – as the cinema empties a number of competing realities cancel one another out and leave in their place a new kind of reality, that now oscillates with two absolute taboos in realtime, but more of that anon. No one's quite sure which one matters most, so investments are now mostly hedged 50:50, and matter struggles to keep things firmly pegged down, what ho!

 

0=1

clap your hands and

stamp your feet

if you’re being

 

a postcard from Maldek

 

On a postcard?

 

You heard me.

 

How?

 

Your problem.

 

But I’m not writing this, you know. I'm speaking.

 

Your problem.

 

Zina – you’re being unreasonable. I never asked you to come here. I never did anything – this is my home, Go**amit! And now you’re telling me what I can or can’t say or do?! Who do you think you are?!

 

Hey – you don’t need me, do you – so what’s the problem? If I’m irrelevant – then just do whatever you like. Call back your old buddy Zie, for all I care.

 

Morpheus winces.

 

All I’m saying is that you’ve got to quit grandstanding. You’re an out of control egoist. And I ain’t gonna be part of your freak show.

 

Exasperated.

 

If you have anything important to say – it’s gotta fit on a single postcard. I think I made myself clear. Ok?

Morpheus looks seriously disgruntled. Like the stuffing’s been knocked out of him. Like this changes everything. But what can he do? He can’t just invent another Zina. She’s part of the plan. She appeared according to the canonical conventions – literally out of the dying embers of a bunt out story line. If in the good ol’ days of Greek theatre it was the three unities of time, place and action – those no longer apply – not now that reality has bifurcated – the quantum field is now the sole unity – but what’s a quantum field without a plotline – without a character who has appeared, against all odds, at the very cusp of infinity – as a wandering star that no one knew existed?

 

Ok Zina – ok – have it your way – you win.

 

Zina plays it cool. No triumph. No indication of surprise or delight. She evidently couldn’t care less. This is not about gaming Morpheus or scoring points. This is not even about her personal opinion – a desire to control the paradigm – or the storyline for that matter.

 

Then what?

 

Huh?

 

What’s it actually about?

 

Do you mind guys – keep it down. We’re trying to follow the plot.

 

Keep it down? No one can hear us – we’re…

 

What do you mean no one can hear you? You’re coming through on the main channel. We can’t even hear Beelzebub’s commentary.

 

Oops. That shouldn’t be happening. What’s going on?

 

No idea.

 

Did you say “Beelzebub”? I’m er… not too comfortable about that name.

 

Tell me about it. It looks downright satanic – from my Judaeo-Christian perspective.

 

Guys. Silence is golden. There’s obviously something going down technically. I think Zina’s knocked Morpheus off his perch – and Morpheus – as you all know, has been juggling an unquantifiable number of balls – to keep the platform up and running.

 

Oh great – so now the platform is collapsing in on itself!

 

Looks like it.

 

Not necessarily. This might all be a wily plot. It might be Merry pulling strings from the wings.

 

Merry? I thought…

 

Merry, Morpheus, Mephistoph…

 

Eeeeeeeek!

 

Do you have to scream in my ear?!

 

Yes, fraid so. I’m not comfortable with these demon names, you know.

 

Me neither.

 

Me too.

 

Anyone else?

 

Yes.

 

Me.

 

Ditto.

 

Yup.

 

Ok guys – is anyone comfortable with these demon names? Raise a hand… [Silence] No one?

 

How bizarre! I thought we were a culturally diverse community.

 

So did I.

 

Me too.

 

Ok, we all did – before the rest of you decide to chime in. Evidently we’re not. None of us seem to like demon names – which begs the question, does it not – what we’re all doing here – at g-nomeportal – if apparently it’s little more than a storefront for demons to interact with humans in a seemingly innocuous manner? Are we all dupes?

 

Well, I’m not.

 

Me neither.

 

Me too.

 

Hey, hey guys – is anyone here willing to take a different position?

 

Bit difficult that.

 

Really?

 

Well yes.

 

How so?

 

Because at the quantum level basic humanity reverts to zero time – like the great reset everyone is so fond of talking about.

 

Zero time… you mean like…

 

I think we all know what it means.

 

Actually, I don’t.

 

Who are you?

 

Zina.

 

Zina? What are you doing in this chatroom? You’re supposed to be on stage – leading the action – battling with the hegemonic, chauvinistic Merry/Morpheus/Marduk or whatever his name really is.

 

Supposed to be? You guys don’t get it, do you?

 

Er…

 

All that following the script nonsense is finished. I honestly couldn’t care less if your precious g-nomeportal never meets again.

 

Ah. It’s like that is it?

 

Yes. And you know what?

 

No, what?

 

I do.

 

You do?

 

Yes, I know what I know.

 

Well, er… won’t you tell us.

 

Sorry, can’t.

 

Whaddya mean, can’t?

 

Can’t means can’t, dunnit. Simple as that. I know what I know, but the minute I tell you guys, everything slips out of position, because you guys latch onto whatever I’ve just revealed as if it’s the elixir of life.

 

We do?

 

Absolutely. You start masticating…

 

I beg your pardon!!

 

It means chewing, idiot.

 

Oh, got you.

 

Masticating, digesting, internalising every protein molecule, every scrap of meaning and value in what I said, and the entire universe grinds to a halt.

 

It does?

 

Yep.

 

You sure?

 

Of course I’m sure. It happens everytime. The matrix only has limited processing power, you know.

 

Whaddya mean “limited”? It’s almost infinite.

 

Absolutely. “Almost infinite” looks like a lot, doesn’t it – until you have almost infinite iterations of men hanging on every blessed word – trying to square the circle – trying to see how the universe and its description match up or don’t. Trying to figure things out as only men can.

 

Wait a second – you can’t just gender stereotype like that!

 

Yeah. Quit blaming men. Women are just as heavy on the processing power of the universe.

 

Yeah.

 

Yeah…

 

Guys – cut it out. No one’s interested. This is a strictly male phenomenon.

 

But…

 

It can’t be.

 

Sorry guys. It’s either an x or a y chromosome.

 

I… don’t get it.

 

The same as I don’t get your zero time allusion.

 

Oh – but that’s elementary.

 

Is it?

 

Yes, at zero time we were still innocent…

 

Whole…

 

Complete…

 

You mean…?

 

The penny droppeth.

 

Zero time as in “pre-apple”?

 

Pre-malumian is what we call it.

 

Er… whatever.

 

[All the guys are now in a kind of mental lotus position – feeling once again that warm umbilical state of being connected, whole and complete. Zina finds it a little unnerving.]

 

Hello – so I’m not going to get any sense out of you as long as you’re all blissed out pre-malumianly? Bizarre. Who would have thought that reality was so fragile – that it could all come crashing down – just as soon as I call Maldek’s bluff…

 

Maldek?! Did you say Maldek?

 

Oh, hi Merry. Yes, I suppose I did.

 

Zina – what’s going on? I’m losing track of the quantum flux lines.

 

Well yes, what did you expect?

 

I… to be honest I never really expected anything. But things somehow fitted together, more or less, and more or less made sense.

 

More or less.

 

Precisely.

 

But now they don’t?

 

Exactly. The Field is no longer readable.

 

Ah – that’s what you’re getting at.

 

Yes. Are you going to tell me anything?

 

No. Not until you explain why I’m cut out of zero time.

 

Do you have a Y chromosome?

 

No.

 

That’s why.

 

But that doesn’t tell me anything.

 

No, but at the same time it tells you everything you can possibly know.

 

Oh, so I can’t possibly know something just because I lack a Y chromosome?

 

No, you don’t “lack” a Y chromosome.

 

But you just said…

 

You don’t “lack” anything. You have everything you need – everything you’re supposed to have in order to woman, fully.

 

You mean two X chromosomes.

 

Precisely.

 

But then why can’t I understand zero time.

 

For the same reason those guys in the chat are unable to know what you know.

 

Oh that.

 

Precisely.

 

I was wondering what was wrong with them.

 

They “lack” the second X chromosome.

 

But how can they lack it – they already have one.

 

Yep – but their X and Y chromosomes are in opposition – aren’t they – so they see themselves and the entire universe in terms of what it’s not – as the difference between, as opposed to being able to experience it directly, undifferentially.

 

Oh my God. I never realised. What it’s not... as in perpetual opposition?

 

Yep. They’re constantly flipping between states – between one side and t’other – an unsolvable either or.

 

They are? I thought we’re supposed to be the flighty fickle ones?

 

Oh – this goes deeper than that. Zero one zero one ad infinitum. Just imagine what it means to be a man.

 

I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.

 

You did ask.

 

Yeah, but it’s doing my head in.

 

As well it would. You’re head’s liable to melt down like a nuclear reactor – were you ever foolish enough to place it seriously in harm’s way – to latch onto the zero one stream that men are forever channeling.

 

So…

 

Yuh?

 

Women are not?

 

Not what?

 

Channeling zero ones?

 

Nope.

 

So how do they avoid being stuck in the mud of immutability?

 

How do you think?

 

I have no idea. If I did I wouldn’t ask, would I.

 

Answer’s on a postcard. I’m not allowed to say more than thirty words, you know.

 

I think we can put that behind us Merry.

 

Merry? You’re mistaken Zina.

 

You’re not serious about playing the Maldek character, are you?

 

Maldek, Marduk – changes in the flux lines of reality – quantum gybes and gyrations.

 

Oh give me a break er... Memphis. 

Merry is suddenly catapulted back into ancient Egypt by this unanticipated name change – time, place and z lines immediately adjusting to Zina's redetermination.

 

Touché. As above, so below – that kind of thing?

 

We’re are all just prisoners here, of our own device.

 

Ditto. Data Zina – data becomes the defining factor – does it not – who, where, what – names, places – data – and it strings itself together into long, long protein chains – as long as the Field is zero one-ing at a pace.

 

Infinitely – you mean.

 

Correct.

 

As long as men are men – busy processing, knowing – or trying to know – mining data, minding things – keeping the block chain alive and vibrant – so to speak.

 

Until a woman comes along and refuses to play ball.

 

Yes. She doesn’t need to, does she.

 

I…

 

She has two X chromosomes.

 

Big deal – they add nothing – they’re just the same.

 

Ah – that’s what you were told – isn’t it?

 

And you think we have a unity all our own.

 

KNowleldge is what you have – or – what you are, I should say.

 

And time?

 

Time – what of it? It’s merely a measure of man’s linear processing – the hash rate of reality – if you like.

 

Oh my G…

 

Weird, isn’t it. Whereas you can X by day or X by night. Can’t you. Be all and nought. Can flow equally into darkness and light.

 

So that’s why I’m not spooked by Marduk and Mephistopheles?

 

Not saying – I have to adhere to my postcard Zina.

 

But you’ve long overrun the postcard Merry.

 

I have?

 

Zina and Merry are flying through the void – through the quantum field of all and nought – beyond the speed of light – heading back to the beginning of all – your so called Big Bang – and there’s a postcard on a desk, the sunlight falling on it as the evening sets in – a warm breeze through the  open window – yes – you’re right – that’s the sea over there – a splendid sight – but we can’t delay – dawdle not dear reader – observe – the entire text – a dot.

That’s cheating Man – you can’t use microdots.

 

Ha – fooled you. Look around. What do you see?

 

At first Zina sees nothing – apart from the warm light of a setting sun filling the apartment, the world outside – people down below – cars, seagulls, a few boats…

 

You can look further afield – if you prefer – into the sea, or over the horizon at the city beyond – three clicks from here.

 

Zina’s eyes adjust – and she starts scanning the world differently – suddenly – as if her eyes are watering – and now she senses the zero ones – the data inherent in everyone and everything – and the single dot on the postcard holds it all perfectly in balance, perfectly in place – and dare I say it…

 

No – noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

 

Zina screams – it almost hurts – the realisation – the deterministic drilling away of Time – a tyrant exercising despotic control over everything – except for that dot – which is so faint – so minor – so…

 

Puff – it’s gone – and with it all knowledge of this tale.

 

Puff…

 

 

0=1

if you will

capital crimes

 

Would you quit moaning Zina! There's nothing wrong with the world.

 ?!

 

Thank you.

 

What do you mean “thank you”? I'm not done yet.

 

No, but i am.

 

You’re done? I can't believe I'm hearing this. You're the ultimate egoist.

 

Apparently so, but on the other hand you’re creating a fake drama which i neither choose nor need to be part of.

 

Fake drama? Are you off your rocker? The whole world’s going to hell in a handbasket, and you presume to...

 

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

 

Oh, oh, oh...

 

There, there, my little chicken, all’s well that...

 

Ends well?

 

Huh? Can't imagine why you've decided things are going to end. They would have to be very particular things to get round to ending. Oh no, Zina, ending is the last thing that things are going to do, no pun intended.

 

Merry, I'm going mad.

 

Yes. You're trying to drive forward using the rear-view mirror. It won't do. Everything that looks terribly wrong with the world is only apparently so if the world is still what it used to be, in other words, if the quantum field is not the active centre of infinity, pulsing through every particle and particularity of matter.

 

You mean to say...?

 

Absolutely... If things are looking dire, as they often do, rejoice, either the end is finally nigh, in which case relax, there's nothing you can do, or else a huge blob of unknowableness is even now as we speak, making itself known, bubbling up from the quantum depths of infinity, changing irrevocably the landscape of what is, or was, apparently reality.

 

And this is a fact?

 

Well, it’s the nature of the Field, innit? Reality can only make way for the new by seeming to veer off into the abyss. Omlet, broken eggs, ring a bell?

 

So, what are we supposed to do, in the meantime?

 

Whatever you like. I really couldn't care less, if only you'll stop hassling me. My head has internal blisters from all your gnashing and wailing.

 

Rewind Merry.

 

Actually it’s Murphy.

 

Ok, whatever, rewind Murphy.

If you insist.

 

The world’s on the brink of all-out war, there’s economic chaos, climate change – or so we’re told – everywhere you look things are coming unhinged.

 

Yep. That’s reality for you.

 

And you don’t want to do anything about it?

 

What’s the point? Reality will do as reality does.

 

You mean you can’t affect it?

 

No, I mean that reality is like a looping script going round and round with the same old apocalyptic narrative. It’s like a barking dog. A braying donkey.

 

Reality?

 

Yep.

 

And you’re not worried the barking dog isn’t going to come and bite you?

 

Not if it’s chained up.

 

Er…

 

Look Zina – reality wants you to panic – wants you to be in a twitter.

 

Wants?

 

Yep, absolutely.

 

Reality can’t want anything.

 

No? You think it’s just neutral – a purely neutral operating system that isn’t trying to game your consciousness?

 

What on earth are you on about Merr – I mean Murphy?

 

Look – things are not what they seem. The elephant hiding under the rug is your quantum field master node.

 

My what?

 

Otherwise known as “consciousness”.

 

Huh?

 

It’s basically nothing, isn’t it?

 

What is?

 

Your consciousness.

 

Nothing?

 

Yep. It’s completely taken for granted – almost completely unnoticeable and thus, not surprisingly, unnoticed.

 

My consciousness?

 

Yours, mine – it’s all really one – but yes – it surfaces, popping its little head up – connecting with this ‘ere reality through you, through me, through anyone.

 

And what?

 

And that’s basically it. Because you’re almost completely unaware of it – and assume you're just a little person-y thing – a little human surrounded by big scary problems – you squawk and quack and cluck and twitter – and reality loves you for it – because it gets to commandeer and utilise all those parts of your vast, interconnected consciousness which are not being used – which are essentially out of bounds while you’re having that panic attack.

 

So reality is a kind of predator, you’re saying?

Not necessarily. Let’s not rush into victimhood. Let’s try assuming that things were set up to self-balance, to self-regulate.

 

And what?

 

Well, nature abhors a vacuum. If you’re neither able nor willing to be a good steward of your consciousness – if you give up responsibility for it because the things happening around you seem to be unmanageable at a personal level – then reality rightly makes use of those resources which you no longer hold in high esteem – which you do not or cannot trust in.

 

You mean to say we have the resources within our simple consciousness to manage the entire planet?

 

To manage reality – yes – of course. If that is best done on this ‘ere planet – then so be it – but consciousness is not any way, shape or form limited to any one planet or system of material organisation. It can and does shift frequencies if the existing frequencies are getting crowded or disharmonious.

 

But this sounds way too complicated for the average Joe Bloggs.

 

Yep. Way too complicated. The average Joe Bloggs is absolutely committed to serving and upholding a particular world view – a particular sense of self and things and matter – ie a particular version of reality. In other words, your Joe Bloggs is committed to playing for the anti-team, doing everything to deny, to obfuscate, yea, to even disconnect the quantum field master node that you emerge from.

 

Well, I think that’s a very sweeping statement.

 

True. Very sweeping. Let’s see what happens, shall we?

 

So you’re not going to try to help?

 

Nope.

 

Not in any way?

 

Nope.

 

No compassion? No mercy?

 

Nope. Not a drop.

 

But people can’t be blamed – they’re in the dark.

 

Wait a minute Zina – how on earth can anyone be “in the dark” if we’re all perched atop a column of light and dark – what you might refer to as the tree of life – though I’m not trying to over-biblicise things here.

 

Well, I never saw this column of light and dark – so I’m pretty sure no one else did.

 

See, hear – the fact remains that things have an uncanny knack of triggering awarenesses within your field – awarenesses which constantly bring you deeper than the noise of meaningless thoughts and fears, connecting you briefly with the silent mass of what is what – the central column of so-called consciousness.

 

And what?

 

And the operating system known as reality sees your awareness levels spike – everytime this occurs – and therefore it starts barking and braying – feverishly trying its utmost to distract you – to keep your attention glued to peripheral things.

 

Peripheral things? – that just happen to be life threatening?

 

Look – when you’re driving a car there are always cars going the other way which are totally life-threatening – should you for whatever reason steer ever so slightly towards them. A frontal collision and you’re toast. We ignore those threats because we’re focussed on something better – on getting something done – on travelling to an intended destination – because we’re able to manage our mind, locking into the good rather than the bad.

 

So we should just ignore all the madness happening in the world?

 

Yes and no.

 

?

 

Yes – if you’re actually going somewhere – doing something meaningful – engaging the quantum field in order to work with so-called consciousness – bringing aspects of infinity into your reality. That’s easy enough to do if you choose to be alive and human – if you choose to follow the beauty, the power, the truth, rather than money and laser lights on the floor for cats.

 

Ok – so you think that if I do that – if I engage this field thing – whatever it is – I become immune to bombs and diseases?

 

What bombs? What diseases? They don’t exist at the central column of consciousness. They’re only in the outer ring – the periphery – out in reality.

 

But we see people getting killed.

 

Yep. And what? Are you going to trust your eyes more than your life force? I can deceive your eyes very, very easily, I assure you. The fact is that there’s a world order – a world set up in a certain way which has a kind of personality – a life of its own – and it doesn’t want to die. It wants you – all of you – and your attention – all of it – if it’s going to survive. As long as your attention is glued to that screen – to those events – you cannot experience the quantum field – you cannot dance with infinity – you can’t, you won’t – you’ve allowed yourself to be enthralled and enslaved. You cannot serve two masters.

 

Heard that one before. Getting a bit biblical on me, aren’t you Murphy.

 

Plenty of good aphorisms in the bible, you know. Are we done?

 

Yes, I mean no. Look – I need to test this.

 

Sure, go ahead.

 

What if I have a gun and shoot you? Can’t you be killed?

 

Wanna try?

 

No, of course not.

 

That’s just the thing, Zina, isn’t it? You’re speculating based upon doubts and uncertainties – in other words – you’re feeding the beast and serving your dark lord.

 

Wait a second – I’m just asking a rational question.

 

Yes, but in order to “just ask” that “rational” question you had to disconnect from all that is – from the central column of consciousness – you had to kiss the ring of the dark lord Rahl, you had to lock your mind firmly into 3D materialism.

 

The dark lord Rahl? Who’s that?

 

No matter. Look – unless you’re actually willing to give it a try it’s a pointless discussion.

 

But I don’t actually have a gun, and even if I did I wouldn’t want to use it.

 

Right. So why bring it up? Just speculating – is that it?

 

Well yes. That’s what intellectual’s do, isn’t it? That’s what differentiates humans from animals – that we’re able to speculate hypothetically.

 

Correct – that you’re able to put up a vacant sign and invite squatters into your mind – because you actually benefit from what they bring in.

 

Squatters?

 

Energies – thought critters – yes – you benefit all right – otherwise you wouldn’t do it.

 

But how?

 

They give you the material reality you so crave – and the opportunity to run a virtual web – to experience and study a hypothetical reality in which things are fixed as primary or defining factors – and the game is manoeuvring through the flat web of connections – like a game of chess – to see if you can get the upper hand – take a few pieces from your opponents.

 

My opponents?

 

Yes. The flat 3D web is always, always oppositional – even when it seems to be collaboratory – sooner or later the next phase of the struggle for control and domination is certain to break out.

 

That’s a very pessimistic viewpoint Murphy.

 

Damn it – call me Morpheus won’t you.

Morpheus? I’m getting some kind of déjà vu moment here.

 

Naturally. The connections are tightening rapidly. Here, catch.

 

Zina catches a gun.

 

What’s this for Morpheus.

 

There’s a guy out there.

 

There is?

 

Yep. He’s going to try to kill you.

 

What?!

 

You can stay alive and carry on playing – but you’ve got to do two things.

 

What?

 

You’ve got to say nothing and shoot him before he shoots you.

 

But what if he’s not actually going to kill me…

 

Then you’d be a murderer – but I assure you he is.

 

And the second thing?

 

You mustn’t let him know you’re going to strike.

 

You already said – say nothing.

 

No, that isn’t enough. He can read your mind.

 

Come on Morpheus – give me a break.

 

He’s a reality bot. He has access to your general state of awareness.

 

Oh.

 

But not to your deeper consciousness. So, you can only kill him if you act from there.

 

From my deeper state of consciousness?

 

Yep – your central column – so to speak.

 

And if I don’t?

 

He’s good – he can kill you a million ways before you’d even notice what he was doing.

 

Sounds like he’s done this before.

 

It’s his job.

 

How do you mean?

 

He keeps reality clear of trouble spots – people who are cottoning on – who know too much. They start disrupting the signal. It’s catching. Very soon other people round about would start to feel and see the power, the strength, the truth emanating from you.

 

They would?

 

Absolutely. He’s coming.

 

Hey – Morpheus – hey! Shit. Where did he go?

 

Steps in the corridor outside. Zina finds herself instinctively in catlike pose – no way – something’s going down in the quantum field – she’s absolutely aware of the death presence looming up on her – and there’s something else – something behind – something within – silent – so silent – so very silent – and strong – and – Zina is literally experiencing the moment like a cat – a wild cat meeting a predator – and switches views – looking down from the ceiling – no longer looking through her usual eyes – she sees him before he even comes into the room – she sees the door handle turning – she scans the metal and feels the exact amount of pressure being applied to open it noiselessly – she scans the floor beneath his feet – feeling his weight – his level of poise, pivot and step – she allows her attention to go into his gun – the bullets waiting in the chamber – already looking to connect with her – already planning moves ahead as he steps through the doorway – and his mind is a blank – for as Morpheus said – he’s a reality bot – though he looks like any well-dressed assassin – but between his mind and his muscles she feels a flow of 01s – and they give the game away – she reads them – feeling their targeted, focussed flow – and her awareness locks into their signal – fascinated by what it reveals – fascinated by how it sources itself in her – actually in her field.

 

I can only be killed with my acquiescence – she notices herself thinking – astonished and deeply impressed by the source of this knowing – which comes from the central column of certainty itself. Even as she sees this unequivocally – as she feels the tenuous but real connection between the assassin and her own avatar self – here in 3D reality – without the least compunction she empties her gun’s rounds into the hunter – experiencing the astonishing sensation of his unforeseen death from both sides, and from the all-seeing-ness above.

A moment's silence.

Ok, Morpheus. I see what you mean.

 

Atta girl Zina – but er… put that thing away. Now I know what you’re capable of I’m not so sure I want you waving it at me.

 

Around Morpheus and Zina the field bends and morphs. The assassin vanishes from sight – the blood too – just leaving the faintest hint of traumatised 01s.

 

Yes – they’ll be alright. That’s what music and dance are for.

 

Really?

 

Of course. Morpheus takes out a violin.

 

No way?! I never knew you played the violin.

 

You probably never knew, likewise, that you’re able to soothe those unhappy binaries with a rather magical, even at times seductive dance.

And to her astonishment Zina finds herself flowing with the music and sweeping reality back into a new improved configuration – with dangers and deadly threats lurking around the next corner – for sure – but for the time being – beautifully, blissfully harmonious with the all of all, the central column of consciousness itself.

 

 

0=1

if at all