the green room

 

The green room?

 

Yep.

 

For off-the-record discussions.

 

Precisely.

 

But why exactly here – in this particular place?

 

Er… the thing is, walls have ears.

 

Very funny eM.

 

No, not all funny really.

 

Walls have ears? Literally?

 

No, not literally.

 

Then er… what exactly do you mean?

 

The entire universe is party to whatever you’re saying and/or thinking. Duh!!

 

The entire universe?

 

Yes Zanussi. The entire universe.

 

And?

 

And that’s not enough?

 

No, I mean – and what? What does it mean?

 

By “the entire universe” you have to understand that I don’t just mean physical space – as if the universe itself is a living being – which, of course, in a very real sense it is.

 

No? Something else?

 

I mean every one in the universe too.

 

Oh. Every single person in the entire universe is party to whatever I’m saying or thinking?

 

Yep.

 

That’s not saying much, is it? I mean – how many people can actually recall verbatim what you or I just said.

 

That’s missing the point, Zanussi.

 

Is it? I rather thought it was a direct hit.

 

They don't need to recall what you just said. If anyone really needed to – they could and they would, but the universe doesn’t waste its time and energy in such frivolous pursuits.

 

Then what’s the big deal?

 

Whatever you say; whatever you said; whatever you’re going to say affects the universe instantaneously. It adjusts accordingly – which is why nothing, or practically nothing seems to happen.

 

Ok. So we’re all part of some conscious web – right?

 

Right.

 

And we’re all pinging energy or ideas back and forth like a game of pinball wizard.

 

Correct.

 

And you can’t really affect anything much because everyone basically knows what you’re going to say before you’ve even said it – because you’re entirely predictable. Right?

 

Right.

 

Unless?

 

Unless you come into the Green Room to have a chat.

 

You mean to say that here – in this particular room – the rest of conscious-ness can’t actually hear what we’re saying?

 

Or thinking.

 

Or thinking?

 

Or doing. Or anything. Yes.

 

Holy Smoke.

 

Precisely.

 

But how?

 

How what?

 

How? How? How?

 

Er…

 

How does the Green Room manage to slip through the net? How come it’s invisible.

 

Good question.

 

Yes, that’s why I asked it. I want an answer.

 

Only problem being that no one knows.

 

No one knows?!

 

Oh, there are theories, of course, but no one truly knows. Let’s just say it’s architectural.

 

Archi-what?

 

Architectural.

 

As in?

 

You know – structural. Like it’s part of the basic, underlying fabric of reality.

 

No. No. This cann0t be. How can the Green Room – even when capitalized – be more than just a green room at g-nome portal. How can it exist in an informational vacuum? It makes no sense.

 

Why not? You might say it makes perfect sense – it’s just you’re unwilling to accept it.

 

Ok – it makes perfect sense – it’s just I’m unwilling to accept it.

 

Because you want all of reality – all places to be part of a continuum. Your mind is, perhaps, appalled by the notion, the idea that there are certain pockets or places which simply don’t fit into the greater scheme of things – which are proprietorial – which serve a very specific function and don’t exist outside that particular function. In other words…

 

In other words – the green room – whether capitalised or not – is exactly what reality requires it to be – a kind of dead zone where all sounds or all notions cancel out. And presumably, reality couldn’t exist without an empty chamber such as the Green Room…

 

Precisely.

 

So we can discuss stuff here and neither the universe itself – nor the collective conscious-ness of humanity – or whatever else the collective conscious-ness comprises – can or will respond, or react.

 

Precisely.

 

And?

 

Well, this gives you the opportunity to discover how powerful or significant words, ideas and thoughts can be.

 

I can do some before and after analysis, you mean?

 

Yep.

 

And what’s going to be the result?

 

How focussed do you think you are?

 

Do you have to ask me awkward questions like that, eM? What am I supposed to do – admit that I’m a blithering idiot?

 

No. No need to torture yourself. We’re all just learning to walk, really, or else learning to fly. It takes time and practise, doesn’t it?

 

So my words basically amount to flappy noise. If we go outside the Green Room now…

Zan complacently opens the door.

 

OMG. Where did everything go?

 

Oh dear Zan – looks like I was mistaken – looks like you shut down the space and time conveyor.

 

Help! I’m sorry eM. I never meant to. I had no idea.

 

Correct, Zan, I was teasing you. And thus it always is. Can’t take it all too seriously,  can we?

 

You mean to say the same thing happened to you when you first came in here?

 

Oh no – in my case it was much more traumatic.

 

Really? I’d like to know how.

 

My teacher Q decided to wind me up. Got me to negate all matter, just to test my “power”.

 

And?

 

And I experienced the abysmal void when I popped outside with him.

 

The abysmal void?

 

Yes.

 

And – is that bad?

 

I can summon it now if you like.

 

No, I think we’ll pass that one.

 

No, we really ought to see the other side of things. And so, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, the abysmal void it is...

 

Please eM. I don’t feel this is a good idea.

 

Don’t worry Zan – the whole of reality is – without a doubt – a big deal – but unless you’ve actually flipped the coin and seen the other side – you just have no idea what big really is – or nought – or empty-ness, for that matter.

 

I think I’m going to be sick. Would you kindly stop scaring me, eM. It isn’t funny. Not in the least.

 

Ok – it’s up to you, Zanzu. I really don’t care.

 

You don’t? Oh, thank you.

 

But you had a feeling didn’t you – an intimation. You sensed a hidden threat – or a vast potential that has eluded you every moment of your waking existence.

 

Well, I suppose so. Something lurking and oppressive.

 

There’s nothing “lurking” or “oppressive” about infinity, Zan. That’s merely your personal response – until you’ve learnt to handle not-ness, all-ness or what we might otherwise refer to as indefinite-ness. Were it truly evil, truly horrendous – it would have left its mark on me.

 

Zan starts laughing hysterically.

 

Not in that way. It would make animals howl or children scream whenever they saw me whereas in actual fact…

 

In actual fact, the opposite is true. So, how do I explain this? How are you able to carry the limitless forces of darkness and yet remain human and apparently “loveable”.

 

Ay, there’s the rub…

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,

The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin?

 

Er… is it absolutely necessary to go off into Shakespeare ramblings like that? It’s a simple enough question and there must be a perfectly simple explanation.

 

Of course there is. And it’s here in the Green Room – if nowhere else – that you can figure it out. The question is – how?

 

Well, trial and error might work.

 

Hum… Do you know anything about statistics, Zan?

 

Not a great deal. Why?

 

Well, we’d need to consider all the atoms in the universe and then multiply that by all sentient life forms – organic and inorganic.

 

That, I take, is a rather big number.

 

You could say. But, if trial and error is your preferred method – then fire away. You might be the one to succeed where none have before.

 

There – you’ve just gone and kiboshed my excellent plan.

 

Really?

 

Well, I’m hardly going to proceed now, am I, after you just informed me that none have ever succeeded.

 

But this is, don’t forget Zanz, a particularly personal experience. What works for you almost certaintly wouldn’t work for anyone else.

 

The thing is – eM – I really don’t know what I’m looking for.

 

Well, you are aware that the entire universe appears to hang from a thread, in a rather disturbing fashion.

 

Yes. I think that much is clear.

 

And that usually we’re blissfully unaware of this.

 

Thank God.

 

Because the entire universe – everyone and everything are constantly eavesdropping on one another's every thought and word and action, including thoughts and words and actions as yet unspoken, unperformed, undecided.

 

Right.

 

And that in some way all of us appear to be moving like cogs in a wheel – like grains in suspension – unable to individuate – unable to hold a course or intention that is absolute or fundamental – that isn’t merely a reflection of the general consensus – or my particular response to it.

 

Yes.

 

And that, therefore, we don’t really exist in the sense that our conscious-ness has not yet emerged from the playpen. It wiggles, waggles, dribbles and oggles like all the other as yet half-formed conscious-nessi.

 

Oh, eM, this is all rather gloomy you know.

 

Ah, but the good news is that here in the Green Room we can have a lot of fun.

 

We can?

 

We can get to the bottom of things.  

 

But what about all these frightsome statistics you were throwing at me, a moment ago.

 

What about them? The fact is that you’re here, right now, and what was the chance of that?

 

Er… One in a million?

 

Raised to the power of a million, and the same again a million times repeated, and that's just for starters.

 

Oh.

 

Precisely.

 

Well, now that we’ve established the fact that I’m special – I think I’ll just go back to feeling helpless and depressed, if you don’t mind.

 

Excellent. Just as long as you agree to be cunningly helpless and depressed.

 

Cunningly?

 

As in, conningly.

  

You mean like kenningly?

 

Precisely.

 

You think I can know things when I’m helpless and depressed?

 

I think many things – but you cannot help knowing things, regardless of whether or not you’re willing to give them credence – but the helpless and depressed state can be a great way to slip past the buffoon who likes us to believe we have a clue – who likes to get us to ignore all contradictions, and to ignore the architecture of reality here at our finger tips.

 

The architecture of reality at our finger tips – what can this mean?

 

It means your body, not just your mind – your body is an integral part of the architecture, isn't it. It's where the rubber of mind hits the road of matter, isn't it?

 

Uh?

 

It means you need a conscious state that allows your body and your mind to heed the song of silence – the song of the soul – the murmurings of in-finity – without which you’ll constantly be heading off on a wild goose chase.

 

I’m doomed. Freaking doomed.

 

Excellent. Stay in that wonderful state of conscious-ness. Experience the doom with ever greater acuity.

 

Must I, eM? It’s a rather painful experience you know.

 

Just like childbirth.

 

You’ve given birth, have you?

 

Not exactly. Um... just like smoking your first cigarette.

 

Ah. Now I know what you mean. It goes against the grain. It rubs against the fur.

 

Precisely.

 

And the universe?

 

Never really mattered, did it?

 

Never mattered? No, I can’t agree with you there, eM – not when I think about what’s happening in that vast, terrible world – the pain and suffering.

 

Ah. Good. Thinking are you – selfish little mind.

 

What?

 

You would think, would you – and never bother to feel the matter in your body?

 

I…

 

Don’t understand?

 

No, I don’t.

 

Pride ourselves on caring, do we? Caring about the suffering of others – yet look outside the Green Room – open the door – what do you see.

 

Must I?

 

Open the door. Do it. Now!

 

I…                                                            Oh.

 

You see?

 

Oh.

 

Suddenly the universe is not so big. Suddenly it’s not so terrible, is it? Suddenly – when mind and matter stop going their separate ways – suddenly what do we see?

 

Who is it?

 

You’re asking me?

 

Well, yes, kind of.

 

And you don’t know?

 

I…

 

Really?

 

I know.

 

Who is it?

 

Me.

 

What? I can’t hear you.

 

Me.

 

I beg your pardon.

 

It’s me. It’s me. But different.

 

Yes. It’s the other you that you are not – and yet it is you – completely – and you have seen your self – and yet you live – and yet the universe remains in tact. How can that be?

 

I was going to ask.

 

So go ahead.

 

How?

 

How what?

 

How can that be? How?

 

Incredible, isn’t it?

 

I’ve seem my self – and yet – is it really me?

 

Ah – you can do better than that.

 

I can?

 

Go again. Ask it.

 

But – I’m fearful.

 

And what? You’ll never have an other opportunity.

 

Really?

 

No.

 

Oh…

 

Go.

 

Zanussi opens the Green Room door again – and looks out at him self. He summons the will, the clear intent to ask “who are you?” but the effort to do so – before the question has been uttered – before the words have been spoken – a wave carries him across and he is standing on the other side – watching a figure in the doorway opening and closing his mouth, somewhat comically, as if the words need to be spoken – as if sound or matter make any difference whatsoever.

 

What did he say?

 

eM’s voice startles Zanz for a second – and the universe feels like a kind of membrane – a flesh – a jelly holding them both apart and together – like a north and south pole of a magnet – but then eM’s silence seems to draw Zanussi back into his standing in the doorway-ness.

 

He said…

 

Yes?

 

He said…

 

I beg your pardon, Zanz – you seem to be repeating yourself.

 

Oh – I… flustered for a moment – Zanussi is still on both sides – looking out and in – and yet already – he’s hearing his answer – like the entire universe has already formulated it and is speaking through the figure standing in the green doorway.

 

He says – yes. Apparently.

 

Apparently. As if there was ever any doubt.

 

Yes to what, Zanussi?

 

The question I formulated. The question I asked with all my being. The question that the entire universe registered and…

 

What question, Zanussi?

 

I… it makes no sense.

 

Excellent. Truly, truly, you have spoken – indeed it makes no sense – and yet – now you know, conningly.

 

 

0=1

_{2377 mure or lees}