the quickening

 don't you think you should slow things down Merry?

er... me thinks not.

you don't think so?

me thinks not. big difference.

er... what's with the lower case script.

it matters not.

[sigh] so we're back in that Shakespearean me thinky thing again, are we? don't want to take responsibility for your own decisions? don't want to be a loud and proud I am what I think.

bloody descartes.

Oh - he's to blame for all the confusion, is he?

well, partly to blame, yes. cogito ergo what have you... damn nonsense if you ask me.

it's called being modern - and accepting that I is the rightful owner of am -- as opposed to an impersonal thought process which you can later forswear.

CUT

Was it good? Did our philosophical dialogue pin them to their chairs?

Actually, it was a distraction.

A distraction?

A smokescreen, if you like.

You're kidding?

Nope. Used it to get past the censors. 

What bloody censors.

Them that control the flow of mind y thought.

Stuff and bunkum.

So you think -- but then again -- you don't have a whole lot of experience outside the realm of things and me skipping along happily.

Oh -- and you're mister knowledge and experience, are you?

I'm a gamer -- with an innate sense of how the game is structured, how it was written, for what purpose, by whom, and how it can be used or turned to my own advantage.

Arrogant fiend.

That too. Listen Zie -- don't take it personally but I have to create waves from time to time.

Waves?

I need to -- and that's not because I like manipulating things -- but because -- look out -- they're on our trail.

Suddenly Merry and Zie are Neo and Trinity -- racing from those ugly as hell agents who are determined to put a stop to all free thinking wave making.

No -- I'm not going to describe the fight scene. Frankly I don't have time. Just use your own imagination --- or better still, make this an interactive experience. You can be Merry or Zie, Neo or Trinity -- whatever you prefer -- and we're not just talking hypothetically, are we?

no?

Oh no -- for one of our hermetic principles 

don't you mean "unities"

yes, i suppose i do really. One of our unities is that of person. You are me, I am you -- particularly when you're playing me.

Oh what fun.

Calloo callay 

he chortles in his joy

Paf paf

pow pow

crack 

smack

dodging

leaping 

weaving 

diving

moves you've never seen before

moves you can't even imagine

moves that involve bifurcation --

of time

of space

of person-y

in short a right ripping fight scene with techno punk CGI to boot

to boot two

to boot three

and if you, dear follower of our outrageous channel -- are not sweating and puffing

if you haven't yet dented the fabric of reality

of made minor incisions in it

minor incisions? why so lame? lurid lacerations in the fabric of reality -- 

That, after all, is the way to defeat the agents, innit?!

Absolutely, they're so busy trying to stitch up the cuts and gashes that they have no time to take you out

But

Huh?

But

What?

But isn't it dangerous? What if I irreparably damage the fabric of reality and it basically comes apart at the seams.

Then bully for you, old chap. You've called their bluff. They're responsible for the fabric -- not you.

They are?

Absolutely. But they've been so busy trying to micro manage your existence and keep you locked in little squares that they failed to pay enough time and effort to maintaining the fabric itself. Their bad.

And they can be held accoutable?

Duh! Think about it.

I am.

Is you?

Yes, but me no sees the logic.

Simple, as always, for a knower of nought y nought.

Go on then. Elucidate.

They are the beings of the fabric. They kind of die or implode if the fabric tears beyond repair -- if it de-hermeticises. 

They do?

Absolutely.

Oh wow.

Not trying to kill them, or anything -- coz they ain't exactly organic beings at all.

No?

Nope. Not at all, in fact.

But they are beings?

Kind of. But not in the way that we are.  

Oh.

Look -- they belong to the fabric, and the fabric is kind of alive and sentient. 

It is?

Naturally. The same way you are -- but you don't belong to the fabric -- do you?

No.

Who do you belong to?

I...

YOu don't know, do you?

Not really.

You don't know. How absurd. Still, tis no matter. 

Wait a minute. Why do I have to belong to anyone?

Or anything?

Well, you hardly just appeared from nowhere, did you?

I...

You don't know. Never bothered to really give it much thought -- did you. Not to matter.

But I like to believe I'm my own master.

Do you? Well, imagine it, if you like. Your mind. Your play. Belonging doesn't necessarily mean you're a slave, you know.

Ok. Then who do I belong to.

Duh.

no really.

God knows.

You mean you don't?

No, I mean God knows. 

God -- I don't really believe in God.

Whatever. It matters not.

But you're implying that there's a God who has all the answers, whereas I don't accept that. I believe that the answers must exist independently, somewhere, objectively. 

And? Are you trying to blind them with mind numbingly dull philosophy?

No, I'm trying to understand.

Ok Zie. It's simple. God, by definition is the process, agency, presence or being that knows who you belong to -- by definition. In other words, we can tidy things up by simply saying you belong to God.

Yowl.

Naturally, you don't like this because you're mind has been infected with agent bots.

It has?

Absolutely. 

REally?

Yawn. The last thing they want is for you to be working with the force, the field, the energy, the presence, the oneness, the isness, the I-know-not-what that God, by definition, is -- no believe required -- let's keep this entirely technical.

so if I belong to God -- then does that mean that I'm supposed to defend the fabric of God in someway?

Yep. The fabric of God -- nice one. It is a kind of fabric -- or a kind of field if I'm not mistaken.

How?

No idea. Your guess, not mine. 

And if I don't?

You'll die a miserable death -- as the agents will get the better of you -- 100% guaranteed.

But I don't want to serve God.

That's very noble of you -- but you seem to be infected with some kind of erroneous definition.

I do?

Yep. You're basically saying you don't want to defend, value or cooperate with your very own life stream -- the source of all that you are that is good, beautiful, magical, creative etc.

You know how I feel about God.

Yep. Well, if the agnets can die because they have failed to maintain the fabric of reality -- too busy chasing you -- too busy trying to snuff out the presence of God they sense in you -- then why can't you make the same crass mistake in your own way? You're expendable. Your death will be just a meaningless statistic. Sooner or later someone will come along who senses the isness of be.

The isnesss

of be -- and turns the tide -- stops being a slave to the matrix, to mind bots that impose alien, reptilian thoughts on you -- and starts to flap dem wings.

Dem what?

Dem wings.

No what are you on about?

The wings of wonder.

Oh dear. 

The wings of wonder that unfold and spread when I is ready to really unleash the God flame, the power hidden within -- the 

dragon?

the

butterfly

the

Merry starts flapping, flapping, flapping -- creating ever bigger, ever wilder waves. The sky darkens. The sun rains black night down onto Earth and suddenly all the bats of hell are flying round, screeching in delight.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! Make it go away. Make it go away.

Never. Only God can do that.

I... Ok, you bastard, you win.

Flap flap flap flap....

Dear God -- rekindle the light of day in me now.

Like nothing ever happened.

Like nothing happened suspiciously.

Or we can do the lesser version -- it doesn't always have to apocalyptic, you know....

Another time, Merry. I'm feeling somewhat... 

Ha ha ha

0=1