flattening the curve (with Ogrinoch)

Zina – don’t get me wrong – it’s great to have you here, an’ all…

 

Yes Merry – I know what you’re thinking.

 

You do?

 

Absolutely.

 

Yikes – that word does weird things to me. Use it sparingly, if you would.

Absolutely.

 

              Merry rolls on the floor – likes he’s trying to squash a critter that’s crawling up his back.

 

If you’re quite done?

 

Where were we?

 

I was knowing what you were bush beating about.

 

Oh that…

 

The thing is – Zie’s gone.

 

Yes – but me – how come I’m still here. It doesn’t seem fair.

 

Fair? What on earth has “fair” got to do with it?

 

Er… Ok – it doesn’t make sense.

 

No Merry. Infinity seldom does – unless you’re trapped in a fool’s paradigm – in which case you imagine you’ve got it nicely under wraps, safely under control – until…

 

TSHTF

 

Slap – or AHBL

 

Er… let me see? All hell breaks…

 

moose. For crying out loud Merry – we’re activating our personal infinity drives – do you have to give the game away.

 

Sorry – I just thought that some of our subscribers would find these acronyms hard to follow.

 

Like your – something hitting the fan one?

 

Oh no – everyone knows that one – don’t they. In any case, I was transmitting the signal loud and clear.

 

Wait a sec – you think they’re all telepathic?

 

No – they don’t need to be – not with the signal strength I’m using. A bloomin petrified log can figure out whatever I’m…

 

Yeah right. But they’re never going to learn are they – not if you do it all for them.

 

Er… I wasn’t aware that we were in the business of teaching our subscribers m2m communication techniques.

 

Mindy mind? Of course you were. How else are they going to activate their quantum drives.

 

I wish you’d make up your mind Maria – one minute it’s infinity drive – then you flip to quantum drives. Why can’t you ever be consistent?

 

In other words – why can’t I be Zie?

 

That too.

 

Maria?

 

Huh?

 

You called me Maria.

 

Slip of the tongue.

 

Me thinks not.

 

You’re not paid to think Mary.

 

There you go again.

 

What?

 

You called me Mary.

 

Did not.

 

Ok – let’s review the transcript.

 

What bloody transcript?

 

It’s all recorded, you know perfectly well.

 

Look Mina – if you want to make such a big thing of it – frankly I don’t see what all the problem is. Mary, Zina… just names you know.

 

See this? Zina holds up a female dark matter device.

 

Nope.

 

Exactly.

 

Huh?

 

See no evil, hear no evil. The devil, as they say, is in the details.

 

Look, I’d never be having this ridiculous conversation with Zie. I want him back. Now.

 

I really have nothing whatsoever to do with it, Merry. In fact, let’s be totally honest...

 

Must we?

 

As you’ve decided to treat me like a second-class citizen.

 

I said – there’s nothing wrong with you, it’s just…

 

I’m a woman.

 

No.

 

Then what?

 

You’re not.

 

Not?

 

Zie.

 

Well, a round of applause Merrimus Maximus. You’ve nailed the fundamentals to the flag staff of QCB.

Huh?

Quantifiably chauvinistic biggotry.

 

What ho – have I?

 

Yes. You have. But we have a bigger problem.

 

We do? Er…

 

Sadly, though I’m politely calling you Merry – to avoid causing hurt feelings...  [leading pause]  in actual fact...

 

No! You don’t mean to say…

 

It matters not in the least what I mean to say, doth it, Ogrinoch.

 

Ogrinoch? Yikes. That sounds like some kind of goblin name.

 

Not far off.

 

Why on earth would I have a goblin name, I wonder?

 

Of course, it’s well concealed. I have to hand it to you.

 

You mean – you actually knew?

               Whistling insouciantly.

 

All along?

 

              Still whistling – innocent as a buttercup.

 

And you never let on?

 

Rubbing her lips. Listen Ogrinoch – I’ve done about all the whistling I can manage, for the time being.

 

Ok – so to summarise – you knew all along that I’m merely masquerading as Merry, and said nothing?

 

              Nods demurely.

 

And you weren’t upset by the fact that a goblin was kind of in your space – so to speak?

 

I’m not racist, you know.

 

We do have rather a terrible reputation.

 

I know.

 

And we smell.

 

Yup.

 

And for some bizarre reason, have the rather icky habit of decapitating and ingesting our unsuspecting victims.

 

Yeah, yeah, yeah… Why are you telling me this, Ogrinoch?

 

It’s just a bit hard to believe.

 

Not something you learnt in the goblin school of covert infiltration?

 

Well, no – not at all – you were always supposed to be terrified – willing to do anything to escape us.

 

That’s right.

 

So what gives?

 

What do you think?

 

I honestly don’t know.

 

Perhaps infinity?

 

Well, yes, of course, but that’s not saying much, is it. I mean – that’s like saying “God did it” when trying to figure out the origins of life and the universe.

 

True – but what if infinity is now back in play?

 

Fat chance of that.

 

Go on – run the calculations. I know you can. Where are we on the sliding scale of probabilities right now?

 

Oh, come on Zina – it’s too absurd. They always max out at about six or seven standard deviations.

 

Do they?

 

'Fraid so.

 

Ok – so run this entire conversation through your Sigma scanner – let’s see what we get.

 

If I must… sighing forlornly.

 

Quit putting on the act, Ogrinoch. I know perfectly well you’re a sucker for math.

 

Just playing my part Zina – I’m Merry – remember – aren’t i?

 

If you insist.

 

Holy Gee.

 

Big number?

 

^^^

 

Sorry?

 

Oops – held the shift key down by mistake.

 

?

 

On my keyboard.

 

Oh…

 

666 standard orders of deviation.

 

Gulp! Are you thinking what I’m thinking bro?

 

Yep, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking.

 

You go first.

 

No you.

 

Ok – both together.

 

1 – 2 – 3  demonic forces are in play/ we’re freakin screwed.

 

You see – we weren’t on the same wavelength after all.

 

Apparently not. Hey – look at the transcript.

 

Yeah, what?

 

Apparently you said – demonic forces are in play

 

And you said – we’re freakin screwed

 

Except I didn’t!

 

Me neither!

 

Holy moo – a divergence of sense and meaning.

 

A Babel event. Things are no long reliably thinging.

 

Absolutely.

 

Youch – rolling on the floor again.

 

Oops – sorry bro.

 

In fact – I can no longer be sure if I’m saying what I’m saying

 

Or if it’s you…

 

That’s the 666 sigma event we’ve been waiting for since time immemorial.

 

Hey – speak for yourself bro – I’ve not been waiting for anything of the sort – still less from time immemorial. You make me sound like I’m some kind of second rate sci-fi character from a matinée show.

 

Er… not meaning to pour rain on your bonfire Zina, but weren’t you the one who made a big thing about the infinity drive/ quantum field being back in action.

 

Trust a goblin named Ogrinoch to take me out of context like that.

 

Oh, I’m sorry.

 

Sorry? Give me a break. Goblins are genetically incapable of feeling or experiencing remorse.

 

I… I…

 

Quit faking it Oggy dude. You’d have eaten me by now with no compunction whatsoever, we’re it not for the improbability field surrounding me, that makes it almost impossible to do so.

 

Ah ha – so now we have doofy disclosure, at this moment of heightened emotional tension.

 

Well yes, but eventually the players have to reveal their cards, no matter what – otherwise infinity stops being infinite.

 

Huh?

 

Well, think about it Oggers.

 

It’s Ogrinoch, Ok?

 

Ok Nogs.

 

              Growling, dangerously.

 

Without the occasional finite – infinity simply exhausts itself – like an engine that isn’t in gear. Eventually, the rubber has to hit the road. There has to be some kind of forward momentum.

 

Does there#?

 

Absolutely.

 

Yowl!

 

Ok Dorothy – I’ve had about as much as I can take of this stinking goblin, rolling on the floor like a flea-bitten dog.

 

              Dorothy steps silently out of the shadows of un-ness.

 

Don’t be so hard on him Mary.

 

Don’t you start Mary-ing me.

 

There’s always more – isn’t there Zina.

 

More?

 

Than any one perspective.

 

Well yes, of course, but we still have to work with the three unities, space, time, action – don’t we.

 

Dorothy raises an eyebrow.

 

Unless we’re going to flip our lids terminally.

 

Well, what do you want me to say Mary?

 

The truth – unless it’s unpalatable – in which case I’d prefer you to substitute a lie. Preferably a nice little candy wrapper lie that doesn’t cause too much trouble.

 

Which is what I’ve done.

 

Oh – have you – thanks, appreciate it.

 

But with your 666 sigma event – language – sense and meaning – they’re losing all traction. Reality is turning in on itself.

 

Yikes.

 

Precisely.

 

Is there no hope?

 

Hope? Why would we mess around hoping for hope.

 

Er… perhaps to avoid a fate worse than death?!

 

Perhaps – but me thinks that is precisely what we get if we hang onto hope.

 

Now come on Dorothy! You can’t be serious.

 

No, of course I’m not, as well you know – yet hope, as you call it, implies fundamentally a rejection of the quantum field, a denial of the mysterious, magical power of infinity.

 

Does it?

 

Well yes.

 

Er how?

 

Because you’re still attached to things working out in a certain way, to things matter, but the problem is that things are what need to go to hell, so to speak, in a handbasket.

 

Huh?

 

All those things which were approximates.

 

Oh.

 

They’ve accumulated up until now, layer upon layer – each a little further from the original sense or meaning backing them – clinging more and more precariously to a steepening slope: the final snowflake releases the avalanche.

 

Ah.

 

So hoping that the final snowflake might not fall, or that the avalanche might be avoided, rather misses the point, does it not?

 

If you say so – but what am I supposed to do – give myself up to despair?

 

You could try.

 

It’s too easy. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! We’re freakin doomed.

 

Shallow. Superficial.

 

Ok – it needs practice. But I’m more of a hoper, you know.

 

Yes, I know, but that’s got to end.

 

Huh? Who’s side are you on, anyway?

 

Like Janus, I don’t take sides.

 

Ridiculous.

 

I’m physically, structurally woven into the both sides of the stream. I have the so-called clockwise and anticlockwise vortices constantly keeping me in a state of…

 

Hey? Where did she go?

 

Where did who go?

 

Oh it’s you. Oggers – could you do me a favour.

 

Sure Mary.

 

Quit calling me Mary, Ok – I’m Zina.

 

Yes, I appear to have lost control over my babel functions.

 

Darn. I really can’t see how we’re going to make it through… Ah, Dorothy – you’re back. So would it be accurate to surmise that you and Ogrinoch are actually one and the same?

 

Absolutely.

 

Yowl!

 

If you’re thinking 3Dly, but then again – 3D is now utterly spent. Imploded. Caput. Innit? So…

 

So outside 3D you and Ogrinoch…

 

And Merry

 

And Merry – I thought he was terminated.

 

Er… hello! 3D Merry was terminated.

 

That all?

 

Of course. You can’t terminate a Merry, can you?

 

A Merry?

 

Like a Merlin or a Taliesin – Merry’s are essentially structural features of the interconnected, honeycomb layers of reality.

 

Now wait a minute!? Honeycomb layers of reality? You’re kidding, right?

 

Yeah, I’m kidding.

 

No, you’re not.

 

Oh, well done. You’re getting sharper Mary.

 

Quit calling me Mary.

 

Sure Zina. Whatever you like.

 

Thanks – I know you’re doing it to help me – you’re trying to trigger the Mary chain, aren’t you – my structural Marlin aspect, so to speak.

 

Absolutely.

 

Yowl!!!!

 

Painful, isn’t it?

 

You’re telling me. Is there no way I can alleviate the effects?

 

You could try accepting your Mary, fundamentally.

 

But that would mean losing my humanity – my mortal aspect.

 

No more than sleep does.

 

Huh?

 

You don’t stop being mortal or a regular Joe just because you fly off into the cosmos every night and revisit your unprocessed isness.

 

Oh. You’ve got a point. But…

 

What’s more – you’re not going to meet Merry until you get over this coy fear of otherness. You don’t have to sacrifice Zina or Zie on the altar of immortality. You just have to allow your mind…

 

My mind?

 

The bigger mind.

 

As in the conscious awareness.

 

Sure, that’s the other name for it. Allowing it to go beyond the boundaries of the rock you’ve attached yourself to is a sensible business decision when that rock is no longer able to protect you.

 

But why not? It’s my home. I trust it.

 

Like you trusted your Mother’s womb, back then.

 

I think a rock and a womb are different things.

 

Yes, you think, but fundamentally, the rock is the thing that replaced the womb when you came out into this world. Your petra. Upon this rock I shall build my church – as the interdimensional Master Yeshua, or Jesus, said.

 

Ok. So the rock…

 

Was your connection point to the next iteration of womb – the 3D platform, which, by-the-way, will still be accessible.

 

It will?

 

Sure. The same with your previous reality.

 

What? I’m still able to access my mother’s womb?

 

Believe it or not, yes – it’s one layer of your connection to all that is. It doesn’t go away, just because you’re “born”, in the same way your loved ones don’t just go away because they “die”, do they?

 

I… I wish it were true.

 

Wish and it becomes true. You cannot prevent infinity from manifesting every wish – somewhere, somehow.

 

If only…

 

The only question is whether you’re willing to allow your mind to stop avoiding, to stop denying the reference frames, the slides, the plates, the spheres, the…

 

Ok, I got the message.

 

The – you got the message? – ok, where otherness is manifesting, because it sure as hell ain’t gonna manifest in 3D reality – except as a kind of shadow, or thumbprint.

 

Oh.

 

You get a kind of hyperlink – but you have to actually click on it, and then be willing to follow it to its source – which necessarily takes you beyond the matter of fact – the rock’s circumference – your precious 3Deedee playpen, diddly dum, diddly dee.

 

Diddly dum, diddly dee to you too, Dorothy.

 

Necessity, being the mother of invention – you ain’t gonna make the move until something like this happens…

 

Like what?

 

              Dorothy waves her wand and a single snowflake appears in the air in front of Zina. A single, tiny, beautiful snowflake that flutters down, down, down until it lands on the floor at Zina’s feet – but Zina observes the floor growing translucent – and sees – to her horror – that she’s not really standing on terra firma at all – that she’s on a steeply inclined snowfield – and the snowfield seems to have come alive – rumbling, sliding, slithering, twisting, careering, joyfully cheering and leaping back in a mad dash towards entropy…

 

 

Well that's that, says Ogrinoch as he twizzles the shop sign round to closed and marches out. Business has been good. More and more customers have been eagerly purchasing his so-called infinity spheres – which are like miniature planets – with weather and wind, and hard to believe it, I know, little volcanos and earthquakes. Each one, apparently, is able to model infinity, and once the customer learns to tune into its signal, “to feel it and know it” as the literature says – they are then able to access the computing power of the quantum field itself. True, this can be done autonomously, without Ogrinoch’s infinity spheres, but that requires a level of mastery few are willing to study to attain. A shortcut – you can become a Yoda – but dare we trust the Ogrinoch’s of this world – who are apparently of goblin extraction? Perhaps they have an agenda all their own – which they are seeking to impose with these innocent and oh so convenient devices… I cannot say for sure. There’s always a trade-off, is there not, and one suspects that the level playing field of today, will sooner or later become the perilously slippery slope of tomorrow. But we’ll deal with that tomorrow when it comes, won’t we. And in the meantime, let us observe the latest infinity sphere in Ogrinoch’s shop – the Zina cube – as it’s called. Paradox being what it is, no one seems to object to the fact that every sphere is in fact a cubed cube – though looking at it you’d never guess. Looks as round as planet Earth – assuming ducks can fly and lambs can prance.

 

 

0=1

absolutely

_____________

a dot

.

 

Babel monitors, babel scavengers, babel macrophages, babel bots – busily restoring order and before you know it –

I’m not

>> 

 

She hath exited the stadium

3 unities sneak back on stage

and gnomeportal reverts to unny, unny, unfulness

flattening the curve to a deceptively straight

line

99.9

>>round up to nearest integer

 

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