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