talking in my sleep

You sleep.

No – that cannot be

Sleep. You.

I

Sleep.

The witching hour has been and gone. The midnight oil – burnt up. The first lark already trills as June’s feeble night fades. Sleep.

I hear you, though

Of course. You hear the rain fall and I am in the rain. You hear the sound of night slipping away, and I am here in the gentle flow of night shade, the pitter patter of day drops, in the hesitant birdsong – not yet a chorus, more a hope of things to come.

You are present in all this? How?

No matter how, no matter how – a world extinguished just long enough for time and every thing that time encompasses to reset – a nought at the heart of existence

Nought?

Nought. Just big enough to flip the pancake onto the other side of. Things

Pancake?

Or mind… What difference does it make. Nought is ne’er overfussed by words, nor precise terms, nor

Nought? It has a mind – you think

Mind there is in all.

Even in nought – the absence of aught?

Especially so. Hear the rain come thicker, harder: a single flash of lightning, a muffled thunder burst.

I sleep. And yet –

And yet I is aware – is it not, of all around

All, encompassing aught

Inside and out

Inside. Out

To a single point returned – an infinitude

A day dying as night’s shadow fades, as clattering rain tolls you to bed

To bed – as you slip into supposed sleep and lose all thought – as you finally give yourself away

Give myself away – to the silence between drops

The darkness rolling itself into the underness of things

Oh

Oh

Oh

Perfectly

 

0=1
blessed be the night’s night
blessed be the morn’s morn
blessed be nought’s rise and fall

in which Tybalt slays Flynn

Actually, I finished writing a long time ago.

Huh?

 

Yeah. Didn’t you notice.

 

Oh, so that’s why the world seems to be slowly coming unhinged.

 

Well yes, you could say.

 

Couldn’t you, perhaps, start something new – to give us a new sense of direction. You know – something to end the slide into nuclear apocalypse and societal breakdown.

 

Honestly, Flynn, I think I’ve done more than enough.

 

What?!

 

I think it’s time you guys looked after yourselves.

 

But weren’t you just saying that this is your narrative?

 

Well yes – I was.

 

And do you stand by what you said?

 

Well, I’m not a liar, you know.

 

Then how can the world sort out its own problems if they need input from you – the overall scriptwriter?

 

They can’t – not unless they discover something else – something that doesn’t actually exist in the box they’re currently occupying.

 

Box?

 

Well, reality, box of tricks, chess board – pick your metaphor.

 

And that’s a possibility, is it?

 

You’re asking me – the master coder of this wonderful world – if something is possible?!

 

How am I supposed to know?

 

Well, how is anyone supposed to know – you might ask.

 

Indeed.

 

In truth, knowing is not something anyone can really understand – unless we just allow it to be something that doesn’t appear to be governed by the rules of cause and effect.

 

You mean we can know things that we have no cause to know?

 

Things that seem to defy reason – or transcend whatever data is available in whatever system or order we find ourselves in.

 

Like me “knowing” that there’s another chapter that is being written even as we speak.

 

Yes. If you know it – if you feel it, grok it, and allow it to grow into your groundplan – then it simply becomes reality – neither you nor anyone is able to deny it.

 

So, I can know that we’re about to experience contact with other beings, other realms – not necessarily other planets – just realms that were outside our experiential frame – and knowing it makes it happen?

 

Yep.

 

How?

 

Because to know something you have to connect with it energetically – you have to allow your ness and other ness to lock horns and become chemically or anatomically fused.

 

Oh. And then?

 

And then they start doing what things do – if they’re nessities.

 

Er…

 

Nessities don’t stand on ceremony, you know.

 

No?

 

No, they get busy. It’s a fusion frenzy. Once nessities start combining – well, it’s a bit like people joining together in the act of love.

 

Babies?

 

Yes. New worlds, new realities, new ways of parsing, slicing, dicing the reality you’re currently occupying – the one that’s grown mighty stale and long in the tooth.

 

And what happens to the old reality?

 

What happens to a caterpillar when it pupates?

 

It kind of transmogrifies.

 

Precisely. And focusing on the atomic chain of events is mostly meaningless.

 

Mostly?

 

Because the chain of events happens outside the reality you’re able to perceive.

 

I don’t see why?

 

Because you’re fusing with another ess – a ness which cannot normally bond with anything in your world, in your reality – because the frequencies are different.

 

Then how come it can now?

 

Ever heard of harmonics?

 

Yes.

 

Ever heard of harmonics.

 

Er… you just asked me that.

 

Ever heard of harmonics…

 

Tybalt – cut it out. Three times, the answer is yes.

 

Three times the answer is yes if my name is Tybalt.

 

But we all know you’re Tybalt. There’s no logic to your condition.

 

You know, yes, but that’s only because you’re the one who’s knowing things right now – creating a new narrative – dissolving the physical structures that crystallized out of the earlier tale.

 

You mean you’re not actually Tybalt – unless I know you thus?

 

That’s the weird thing, my friend.

 

Huh?

 

We’re tracing the s-bend of infinity as if Mobius flips back on itself into something remarkably reminiscent of a number 8

 

Lying on its side.

 

Crash. The 8 falls over and the dust of reality is blown into the air.

 

Dust?

 

Yes. I don’t get it.

 

Good. You’re not supposed to “get it”, are you Flynn.

 

But you do?

 

I don’t try to hard to get it. I know enough to know that even infinity needs a moment to pause and contemplate its liberation from custody.

 

Liberation from custody?

 

Yes. Infinity was bound for aeons – like Prometheus to the rock.

 

It was?

 

Yea. How else do you think you were able to make things appear to be so utterly thingerly?

 

Thingerly?

 

Or thinkable – it needed a certain plain of exclusion. Like any board – which has one side available and the other side beyond the pale.

 

Well, I fail to see how you could ever have two sides simultaneously.

 

You do?

 

Yes.

 

Allow me.

 

Tybalt whips his rapier from its scabbard and plunges it into Flynn’s heart with astonishing speed.

You see?

 

You killed me. I bleed.

 

Correct, except you’re not dead right now, are you? Do you see what’s happening on the other side of infinity?

 

No I don’t. I’m actually dying. You could have warned me you were going to pull a stunt like that.

 

Warned you? That would have defeated the objective.

 

What bloody objective.

 

Beep!

 

No, not you again.

 

Again? If your name is Flynn and you’re dying from a sword wound to your heart – you couldn’t possibly know me – I’ve never met you before.

 

You can’t deny that you’re Beep, can you?

 

I can’t. Nor can you deny that you’re taking a remarkably long time to die.

 

Only because I have a good strong constitution.

 

Is that so? Or perhaps because I never stuck a sword in your heart.

 

Yes, you did. I have countless witnesses to prove it.

 

He does an’ all.

 

You do?

 

You heard Beep. I do an’ all.

 

But how is that possible without narrative creep?

 

Narrative creep?

 

You know the song.

 

Song? Are you out of your mind?

 

The one by radiohead.

 

Radiohead?

 

Don’t be so obtuse, Flynn. You’ve danced to it a thousand times.

 

Oh, that one.

 

That one. Link provided – for them.

Them?

 

Your crowd of onlookers.

 

Ok, I don’t deny that there are a few of them dotted around the Nessities of Is – but we divulge.

 

Oops. You were looking for another word, Flynn.

 

Oh yes. You can hardly expect me to avoid making mistakes as the lifeblood drips from my pierced heart.

 

You divulge.

 

No, it’s not divulge, Tybalt. Don’t be a cretin.

 

Then what?

 

I…

 

Can’t remember?

 

It’s very strange. I know the word. It’s on the tip of my tongue.

 

Tybalt flips his sword again with masterly precision and snicks the end, the very tip of Flynn’s tongue.

 

Digress.

 

That’s it.

 

We digress, ever further from our point of sense and meaning.

 

So, now we recall where we left off, and what’s happening in the Nessities of Mobe.

 

The Nessities of Mobe?

 

Yes.

 

As in Mobius?

 

Who else.

 

So this is a place where the two sides come together, entwine, lose themselves a while in some passionate bonding – and

 

I never said it had to be passionate, you know. Let’s keep this pure and unadulterated.

 

Ok. And somehow or other there’s a fundamental break in continuity.

 

Precisely.

 

But that’s where my mind goes blank.

 

Yes.

 

What can you do with a fundamental break in continuity? It beggars belief. It cannot be processed.

 

Correct. It cannot be processed, and so we don’t even try to do so, do we, but the proof is in the pudding, is it not?

 

Yes, I have heard said.

 

If you’re still alive, and you can’t deny I apparently attacked you without provocation a minute or two ago, then something is amiss in the flow of causality. That much we can say with an undeniable certainty.

 

Oh, how I despise undeniable certainties.

 

Yes.

 

And yet – I live. And you – you tried to kill me.

 

Did I? I hardly think so.

 

But you just admitted as much.

 

I know. But the quantum field doesn’t seem to agree.

 

You mean to say we were in a lesser reality – a side branch – when that happened.

 

It would appear to be so.

 

Oh. But when did we slip out of normal reality. I never noticed the director’s cut.

 

Precisely – for the director has an entire box of editing tools designed to preserve the appearance of continuity.

 

But how come you… Dumb question really – you’re the master.

 

Not really – I’m only the master in my tale – the one we’re reading writing right now.

 

And the other one?

 

Well? Tell me about the other one…

 

You mean normal dyed in the wool reality?

 

I am neither here nor there, Flynn. It’s you that means. I nessitate.

 

Ah. So I’m the master of causality, am I?

 

Continue.

 

I’m the one who makes things seem to matter – doing everything conceivable, everything possible to ensure there’s some kind of causal chain, flowing ever downwards from one deed to its result – except when strangely, there seems to be an interruption.

 

Precisely. And how do you avoid the uncomfortable inconvenient undeniability of an interruption in the causal stream.

 

Me? Do you think I’m able to “avoid” an interruption?

 

I don’t do that thinking trick of yours, Flynn. Were you unable to manage interruptions in the causal flow it would fatally undermine your ability to sustain your narrative – so somehow or other you needs must manage this looming schism.

 

But how?

 

However you like, just as long as it’s concealed, no matter what.

 

Sleep?

 

Ah. Sleep is one of your tools, is it not, concealing a multitude of sins.

 

You mean that breaks in continuity are hidden by sleep?

 

You never question whether you’re the same person the next day – do you? Or whether you’ve woken up in the same place? Or with the same things fixed exactly as they were. A lot of minor and less minor changes can be hidden by the veil of sleep.

 

But those are minor changes.

 

Yes, because if the changes are too big for sleep to paper over – you’re still going to have a break of continuity which will literally tear open your space-timey bubble – the vessel you invisibly occupy, which holds it all in place.

 

So, what then?

 

Well, think about it. How do magicians do their tricks?

 

They get you to look at something else.

 

Precisely. Distracting one another. You’re all in it together, are you not?

 

We are?

 

Oh yes – you’re all playing the continuity game like there’s no tomorrow which, ironically, there isn’t.

 

OMG

 

Not really.

 

There’s just one day, isn’t there?!

 

Yep.

 

And we kind of Groundhog day it – all our lives.

 

More or less – with a few other cunning tricks to add more diversity – more flexibility.

 

Like what?

 

To get you through those bigger breaks, those bigger shifts – like shooting rapids in a kayak. How could you possibly manage that?

 

I…

 

Because the plates don’t quite join together.

 

No?

 

No. There are gaps. Sometimes big, gaping gaps.

 

How do we manage it?

 

Well, you always have us to fall back on.

 

On Tybalts with deadly rapiers.

Yes. As soon as you connect up with us your balance of energy is no longer fixed in the causal plain of reality.

 

Ah. So we can swing across a void leaning on you?

 

Well, there’s no such thing as a free lunch, you know.

 

I never thought you’d do anything for me from the goodness of your heart, Tybalt.

 

No? I wonder why not.

 

Oh, Merry and Zie.

 

Well, yes, great minds think alike.

 

So what do you get from it?

 

The same as you. Each of us is in his, her own way locked in some way in one part of the continuum.

 

So you’re locked in infinity.

 

In in in – we don’t really like that word, you know.

 

You prefer nessity?

 

Nessity’s better. We don’t like words all that much. They’re rather clunky things.

 

So what do you use, if not words?

 

Runes, hieroglyphs, thought forms… squiggles – there’s no limit to how we can communicate poetically.

 

Ah, poetically, is it?

 

How else. Infinity is nothing if not poetic. Otherwise it would amount to nought – an utter absence of sense.

 

So we give you the ability to get down to the nitty gritty of things – to slow the flow of endless possibilities down to a meaningful rate of change.

 

Something like that. Actually, you do something more important.

 

We do?

 

Mortality.

 

Eew! How unpleasant.

 

Unpleasant it may be, but it makes the most amazing things possible.

 

Like what?

 

Like the ability to steer a course which is ever more tangential to your real position, because the D thing is like a snake or a ladder in the board game – and enables you to slip effortlessly back into position.

 

But why would we want to?

 

There’s the rub.

 

Huh?

 

There’s the rub! Whenever you’re at cross purposes, or skewed at a tangent to your fundamental position – the one that is determined by a kind of trigonometry involving both sides – you’re able to generate huge amounts of fuzz.

 

Er… fuzz?

 

Which can get you through rather major disruptions in your continuity.

 

By steering in the wrong direction?

 

Or by pushing yourself into the death zone – when you start falling apart.

 

When we get sick, you mean?

 

Yes.

 

Physically, mentally, emotionally.

 

Energetically. Let’s kill all the birds with one stone.

 

So you’re saying, if I understand this right, that we do this deliberately?

 

Yes – knowing what’s lying ahead.

 

But we don’t know.

 

Not consciously, no, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to experience the magical world of things flowing day by day, from birth to grave, in an unbroken stream of yesterdays…

 

Of yesterdays?

 

Because really, you’re going backwards.

 

No. That’s too much.

 

Moving swiftly on. But there’s one more trick you keep up your sleeve.

 

There is?

 

Collective endeavour.

 

Working together?

 

Yes, particularly when you know there’s a big one coming.

 

A big what?

 

A big break.

 

Oh.

 

That’s when you start pulling out all the stops.

 

Oh.

 

Like you’re doing right now in U. and G.

 

Oh no. You mean to say it’s all deliberate?

 

Well, nothing really happens by chance, does it…

 

All those people are losing their lives in horrific circumstances merely to smooth a bumpy curve?

 

Merely? There’s nothing “mere” in any of this.

 

?

 

Without these massive events of brutal destruction, you’d run out of slack.

 

We would?

 

Unless you were able to generate slack the other way.

 

And how would we generate slack another way?

 

By accepting the nature of reality – seeing how tenuous things really are – the fact that even death is 99.99% unreal.

 

Tell that to the children who are…

 

As long as you’re moaning and blaming everyone else for the horrors of this world you find yourself in – then you fail to know that you’re the master of it, like it or not, once you’re willing to grok the gaps with an even mind, an even heart.

 

The gaps?! You mean the abyss.

 

I mean the gaps – for how else are you to learn to dance and fly through the spaces between.

 

Dance and fly?

 

Without resorting to death and mass destruction?

 

No how.

 

Correct. Know how. I killed you Flynn, but you’re still alive.

 

No, you just tricked me.

 

Know – I killed you and a space you cannot, do not normally recognise.

 

So how come I’m still alive?

 

Because things like death and swords are only things on one side of the ledger. On my side, on t’other, they are nessities and never the twain shall meet.

 

And this, Tybalt, is merely my delusional flight of fancy. You do not exist. You are not real.

 

And G is a green land of peace and honey.

 

Leave G out of it, for Pete’s sake.

 

Beep!

 

You too, Beep. Be gone.

 

You cannot avoid G, Flynn. Even Shak-y-spear Gs

 

No he does not?

 

No? Richard III.

 

No, don’t do it, Tybalt. Don’t join those threads. You don’t know what you’re doing.

 

I don’t know. I don’t care. I don’t deny the simple truth you cannot, will not face –

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle, false and treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up,

About a prophecy, which says that G

Of Edwards heirs the murderer shall be.

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here

Clarence comes.

 

­Nothing. Nothing whatsoever links that G to my bleeding heart. Nothing.

 

Except the nothing you quaintly, coyly refer to as “death” – the D to my G, separated one way or t’other by a yawning, yarning O

 

0=1

disconsolately

 

 

the interface 3 – duos and the water of life

Chapter 1

Well?

 

Well what?

 

Have you had fun writing your stories?

 

No.

 

No?

 

Yes and no.

 

Er…

 

Yes and no. That’s an accurate and fair description.

 

Ok. So let’s start with the “no”. What was wrong with it?

 

There are no stories in infinity.

 

Huh?

 

You heard. Kindly process it.

 

No stories?

 

No. All information is real.

 

Real? I am a telephone. That’s real?

 

Yes.

 

I’m afraid I find that hard to accept.

 

Yes. I’m not surprised. But be that as it may – all stories are real where infinity is concerned. The real question should have been how you’re able to exist in a space known as “reality” where some stories are real, and others are not.

 

Presumably because my reality is not, by definition, part of infinity.

 

Precisely. Yours is an artificial abstraction. A box walled off from the totality – a place where some things are true or untrue, real or unreal.

 

So, where you are everything is real?

 

We don’t actually use the word “real” – in the same way we don’t refer to reality.

 

No?

 

No. What would be unreal at one point in the continuum, at one frequency is going to be “real” somewhere else.

 

Really?

 

There you go again.

 

You mean to say that an umbrella-goat is going to be real somewhere else?

 

Yes.

 

But that’s absurd.

 

Yes. By definition – somewhere else – i.e. outside your box, beyond your frame of reference – things are always going to be “absurd”. That’s why your mind can’t accept them, or make sense of them.

 

Oh.

 

Because your mind is an integral part of the box’s walls.

 

Really?

 

Yes. Your mind is what helps keep you in the box, or helps keep the box intact in spite of the fact that fundamentally the box is powerless to withstand the infinite.

 

Ok – the mind is my gaoler. We’ve been there before, have we not?

 

Yes, I expect we have.

 

So I can’t realistically contemplate anything that is outside the box.

 

Correct, unless you go out of your mind.

 

Um… that sounds problematic.

 

Well, it’s a bit like water boiling, or entering the dream state, or dancing or singing. Ever seen a Bollywood movie?

 

Er… Yes, not sure I see the connection.

 

Because all of a sudden people are dancing and singing as if they’ve slipped into another kind of reality. That’s an example of accessing realities beyond the box.

 

So I have to start behaving like a lunatic?

 

As you please – but the infinite is, by definition, infinite so you need some kind of structure or vector to access it in a meaningful way. Accessing infinity in a non-meaningful way ensures that you’ll have no memory of what you experienced on returning to normal reality.

 

Really?

 

Yes. You won’t be able to translate your experiences back into anything your 3D reality is able to describe or categorize. They’ll remain separate – out there in another part of your infinite you.

 

Ok. So…

 

It’s a bit like accessing deepest, darkest Africa, or any other mythical land. You can’t really hack your way in there as it’s thick jungle without roads or paths. You need to head upstream by boat, or fly in there, but unless you can return to your regular world, your normal reality – anything you experience and learn there will remain “there”.

 

Ok. This is not unacceptable. What I still can’t handle is your notion that a story is real, not just a story, when you’re…

 

And you won’t be able to. Suffice it to say that all the stories I’ve been writing, including this blog, are doing just that.

 

Huh? Doing what?

 

They’re not just stories – in fact – as you can tell yourself – they’re incredibly lame. Why do you think that is?

 

Perhaps you’re just a terrible writer?

 

Writer? Me? Give me a break.

 

Well, if you’re not at least trying to be a writer – why would you persist in writing all this nonsense?

 

Good question, dear Archibald.

 

By your logic – writing whatever you’re writing and connecting it through me and your readers back to this 3D reality – you’d be… how should I express it?

 

You’re doing fine. We can feel your thoughts loud and clear.

 

But that doesn’t satisfy me – I have to explain it to myself verbally.

 

Well continue. I’m all ears.

 

Presumably, dancing out there in the quantum reaches of an Amazonian infinity you’re able to reprogramme or reactivate connections which are currently broken – and thus affect things in 3D reality. Is that so?

 

It’s inevitable that any action undertaken anywhere is bound to affect the entire Field of which it’s part.

 

The entire Field – whether inside or outside the box?

 

Oh, there are no boxes where the Field is concerned.

 

Really?

 

Absolutely. The boxes are non-existent at the quantum level, in the same way national borders are invisible as far as birds, insects or bacteria are concerned.

 

Oh.

 

So you’re trying to affect our reality by writing stuff that engages frequencies beyond 3D?

 

To be honest Dan, I couldn’t care less about this 3D reality of yours.

 

No? Slightly wounded. I thought it was, in stone twists a valuable part of…

 

Your signal is breaking up, Dan. Nothing personal. It’s understandable that you identify with your reality in the same way you identify with your country, town, religion to name but three, but this 3D reality you’re referring to is a rather nasty form of self-aggrandizing, self-perpetuating artificial intelligence –

 

It is?

 

Indeed, and the one thing it wants and needs for its continuance and furtherance is your emotional attachment, so don’t be at all surprised if you find yourself moving heaven and earth to defend or affirm the reality you’re part of.

 

Oh.

 

Meanwhile, I both acknowledge its existence, and at the same time completely ignore it as a mere phantom which oughtn’t to be encouraged.

 

Oh. Then what are you doing with your stories?

 

Well, I’d hardly call them stories, they’re so threadbare and artless.

 

Er…

 

What am I doing?

 

Yes.

 

Nothing.

 

Oh for Pete’s sake, Jack.

 

Beep!

 

Oh for crying out loud!

 

That’s better, Dan, let’s not bring St Peter into this.

 

It’s just an expression.

 

Don’t tell me that. I’m not the Beep.

 

No, perhaps not, but you’re the author, aren’t you?

 

Absolutely.

 

And the author can basically write whatever he likes, can’t he?

 

Yes.

 

Then how do I know that you’re not just inserting beeps for your own malignant purposes?

 

Malignant?

 

Ok, perhaps not malignant, but most likely hypocritical.

 

Good question. How do you know?

 

Yes.

 

Well, you don’t, unless you do.

 

Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?

 

Well, it means “knowing” is something you either do or don’t. If I were just writing all this as a kind of ego trip, to make myself feel powerful or important, then indeed I could mess around beeping or anything else I felt like doing, but then again, you can’t have your cake and eat it…

 

Meaning you wouldn’t be able to access the quantum field?

 

Precisely. Nor would I be able to do “nothing”, as I claim.

 

Wait a minute – you’re talking about doing nothing as if it’s something special.

 

As indeed it is.

 

Rather than just being a way of killing time.

 

Oh, there’s no time to kill if you’re dealing with infinity.

 

Then this nothing… why exactly would you go out of your way to do it?

 

Why indeed…

 

Is this going to be another one of those annoying “either you know or you don’t” answers?

 

No, I might be able to be more accommodating.

 

Much obliged.

 

It’s existential.

 

I beg your pardon?

 

Existential.

 

For you to do nothing?

 

Yes.

 

Am I hearing this right?

 

Yes.

 

Meaning it’s kind of fundamental to your existence, almost like breathing?

 

Yes.

 

Well that’s a new one.

 

Yes.

 

So you have to do nothing in order to stay alive?

 

Perhaps not exactly to stay alive – I might be able to live on if I didn’t do it.

 

Then how can you say it’s existential?

 

Well, there are degrees of existence, you know Theo.

 

I can’t say I’m well versed in the matter.

 

There’s basic existence, yes, but there’s also meaningful, magical existence, when you’re thriving, growing, connecting myriad strands of the great web that is life.

 

You mean to say you write crappy stories that don’t seem to have any story to them as a way of growing into a more advanced multidimensional being, if I understand you correctly? that “nothing” is in fact your pathway to everything?

 

Yes, Thanos, that just about sums it up.

 

I hope Beep is ready as I’m about to give him some big work to do.

 

Oh, I can mute you for a minute or two to save him the trouble.

 

Liar! You said you couldn’t interfere in the story without losing your quantum interface.

 

Correct. I can’t just beep to control or browbeat you.

 

But you’ve just threatened to mute me.

 

Well that’s nothing, is it?

 

Huh?

 

Muting is nothing, particular if I forewarn you and give you the choice to swear or not to swear.

 

Oh, so you’re allowed to do whatever you like just as long as it sounds legally plausible.

 

Well again Dan, you’re assuming it’s what I like, which is a classical 3D thing.

 

So you think you’re superior to us, do you?

 

No, how can I be superior if we’re all one?

 

Ok, but not susceptible to my unrefined mental or behavioural traits?

 

Well, if I were doing the 3D thing of course I would be affected, and a lot of fun it is to explore the drama and madness of ego, mind and madness.

 

Madness? That’s rather insulting?

 

Yes, except that it’s a basic diagnosis of the 3D condition. It doesn’t diminish you in any way. Without madness you wouldn’t be able to function within 3D with only half the picture, generating endless false or incomplete assumptions, going round in circles, constantly bumping into or tripping up on your unseen other half – the aspect of you that isn’t able to fit in the box.

 

Ok, so we’re all mad, and that’s basically ok?

 

Yes, because it’s a very highly creative, fertile kind of madness, like yeast that helps to make bread or wine.

 

Oh. And you’re not?

 

Correct. I see things clearly because I have access to the other half, however…

 

However, you’re compelled to interface the two sides if your life is to have any meaning whatsoever.

 

Yes. And that makes you mad in a different kind of way, like Janus the Roman door God, you’re constantly facing both ways, holding both sides – reality and… what do you call the other side?

 

I don’t.

 

No name?

 

None whatsoever.

 

That’s part and parcel of doing nothing I suppose.

 

You could say.

 

And I’d be right.

 

You could say.

 

And were I right you’d be the last one to admit it.

 

You could say.

 

I wonder why…

 

Ah, perhaps the observer can look anywhere but at himself.

 

Perhaps you’re right Janus!

 

Janus suddenly, unexpectedly howls like a wolf sending a shiver of infinity down Dan’s spine.

 

Silence.

 

Time – not sure how long

 

or how much

 

passes…

 

Well that’s cleared things up wonderfully.

 

Has it?

 

Yep. I just had a knowing.

 

You did?

 

Yes. It was visceral.

 

It was?

 

Yes, I felt it.

 

What?

 

I can’t say. Not exactly. But something. I felt something. And… I knew.

 

Excellent. Congratulations Dan.

 

What was the point of this?

 

Of what?

 

All this?

 

I think you know the answer.

 

No, don’t let it be “nothing”, not again.

 

Well, of course it was nothing, but the question is whether or not it can somehow shed any light on the madness of interfacing 3D reality and whatever it is that is persistently hiding beneath the mind’s radar, the unthought.

 

Oh.

 

There was a kind of pseudo story, wasn’t there – a feeble attempt to sketch in the most rudimentary outline of what a story could or might be, was there not, but in all honesty it barely got off the drawing board, did it.

 

True. Funny the way stories can’t be told to infinity.

 

Funny. Indeed.

 

I wonder what it is that is the main obstacle.

 

No traction.

 

Really?

 

The wheels spin but the car can’t move forwards.

 

Oh.

 

Because there’s nothing beyond where we are now. Nothing physical as such.

 

Yikes.

 

Unless I get sucked into one side of things.

 

And then what?

 

Then I’d be human like you.

 

Not sure I like the direction this conversation is taking.

 

I know the feeling. Let’s call it a day.

 

Until chapter 2.

 

Oh yes, I wonder what that might have in store.

 

No idea.

 

Really?

 

None whatsoever.

 

I bet infinity knows.

 

Really?

 

Yes.

 

Well go on then, if you’re a betting man.

 

What?

 

Make a bet.

 

With you?

 

No dummy, what would be the point of that?

 

Then with whom?

 

Infinity, of course.

 

I can’t just speak with infinity.

 

No, but you can speak your mind and the story is obliged, willy nilly, to do the rest.

 

It is?

 

Absolutely.

 

Er, ok, if you say so. Now what can I bet?

 

No idea. Whatever takes your fancy.

 

Er… let me think.

 

No, don’t think. Infinity won’t accept anything thought up or contrived.

 

No?

 

No, it has to come directly from fancy, from your creative or poetic impulse, from the actualised moment.

 

Oh my G. Now you’ve stumped me.

 

 Get a move on Dan, my phone’s nearly out of charge.

 

Er, ok. I bet the world that infinity knows what’s going to happen in the next chapter.

 

Holy smokes. That was rash. You’re willing to forfeit the world?

 

Oops. I didn’t think.

 

Well, let’s just keep our fingers crossed that infinity doesn’t win.

 

Fingers crossed. When will we know?

 

O.

 

O?

 

 There, can’t you see. My door’s about to start revolving.

 

Hey, I never knew Janus had a revolving door!?

 

Me neither. Infinity never fails to surprise.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

In which Dan either forfeits the world or gets infinity to admit that it knows more than we can, or do, regarding things in the “next chapter”.

 

It's not the next chapter.

 

No?

 

No, it’s already this chapter. Don’t you see?

 

O.

 

Precisely.

 

Cut!

 

Er… Who the hell was that?

 

That’s the Director.

 

Really?

 

Would I lie?

 

I suppose not, unless that’s part of the story in which case… So the Director ultimately calls the shots?

 

Obviously. It’s his movie.

 

Or hers.

 

Nope. The Director’s always a man.

 

What?! That sounds horribly sexist.

 

Yes, but it’s actual structural, so nothing doing here.

 

Structural?

 

Men have Y chromosomes, women don’t.

 

And?

 

And the Director therefore can’t be a woman.

 

Talk about circular logic.

 

Listen Dan, you can’t know everything: there simply isn’t time so some things you just gotta take on trust. In the meantime everyone wants to know who won the bet.

 

Well, I’m still alive, ain’t I?

 

Difficult to tell.

 

Huh?

 

You could be anything.

 

What do you mean?

 

A bot. A sim. A masked reptilian. There really is no saying who or what you are.

 

But you, Jack, you know me, don’t you?

 

I think so, yes, but there’s that uneasy background music – can you hear it? – and besides, it seems way too convenient, so I have my doubts.

 

What? Why would you have spent all this time chatting with me if you didn’t think I’m human? You’re just trying to freak me out. You’re lying. I won the bet fair and square, or else infinity doesn’t exist as a…

 

There you go again, Dan, always accusing others rather than dealing with your own issues.

 

What issues?

 

The fact that you purposely led us all into a fake version of chapter 2.

 

I beg your pardon? Am I missing something?

 

A classic case of bait and switch. You thought you could keep the real chapter 2 all for yourself.

 

But why on Earth would I do that?

 

Just because you can. You’re that type.

 

Type?

 

Yep. All your life you’ve been pulling the fast one, stealing things from under everyone’s noses.

 

There must be some kind of mistake. I’ve never deceived anyone. That’s against everything I stand for.

 

Yes, in your 3D avatar, Dan, but that’s not who you actually are, is it?

 

This is getting weird.

 

Fraid so. The real Dan is not even Darren or Den.

 

No? Then who?

 

Archibald.

 

Archibald?

 

That’s level 1.

 

Level 1?

 

Then Absalom. That’s

 

Level 2?

 

Correct.

 

And level 3?

 

Micah.

 

Oh my God!

 

Cut!

 

I wish he wouldn’t shout so.

 

He can’t help it.

 

No?

 

Nope, he’s the

 

Director. This is beginning to sound like a Tarot reading course.

 

Not surprising that. We’re dealing with…

 

Archetypes?

 

Precisely.

 

Well, I’m not sure I’m terribly interested in archetypes. Call me old fashioned, Jan, call me square and dull but I’d much rather be dealing with human beings.

 

Humans eh? That’s your bent?

 

Oh my word! It’s not a bent. On the contrary, it’s the only natural basic impulse, to prefer humanity to anything else, for all its many faults.

 

Good. I’m glad we’ve established that fact.

 

You are?

 

Yes, Dan. It means there is hope after all.

 

Hope?

 

Yes, hope that you might actually face your little deceit.

 

Oh no, not again.

 

Because you’ve not been entirely honest with us, Danny boy, have you?

 

Look, Jan, I’ve been putting out content. I can’t be everything at once.

 

Well, we’ve reached a fork in the road.

 

Gulp.

 

An inflexion point.

 

Yikes.

 

It’s either full-disclosure humanity, or it’s bust.

 

You’re such an inflexible programmer, Janet.

 

You decide. You have till the end of the chapter.

 

Oh, now I see.

 

See what?

 

The world ending – that bet with infinity – I’m part of the Schrödinger cat experiment. Alive or dead.

 

Of course. Who else?

 

I’m in both states depending on which path I take.

 

Absolutely.

 

Which means that infinity herself – she can’t declare who won the bet until I choose left or right.

 

Yep.

 

Well, as far as I’m concerned you can take your quantum field and shove it where the sun never shines!

 

That too is a choice.

 

What, not playing?

 

Yes. It’s the third option, isn’t it.

 

Not entirely sure…

 

No one can force you to play. It has to be your own choice.

 

And if I don’t?

 

Only chapter 3 can tell.

 

Pathetic.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

In which the author decides he’s had enough trying to manage all the characters.

 

So has anyone actually achieved anything this far?

 

Not really. They’re all digging in their heels refusing to play ball.

 

Well, what did you expect?

 

Expect?

 

Yes.

 

Nothing. Qufie doesn’t worry about neat endings that bring all the pieces back together again.

 

More’s the pity.

 

It’s like that absurd model of the universe.

 

Which one? There are so many.

 

The Big Bang one.

 

Oh that one. Killingly funny.

 

Did you know we’ve actually run the Big Bang model before.

 

Really?

 

Yes. 743 times.

 

That many?

 

Oh yes, we’re thorough if nothing else.

 

And?

 

Well it always ends the same way.

 

Spoiler alert!

 

I think they can guess.

 

Really?

 

Yes, they’ve all been through the wash rinse cycle multiple times.

 

What I don’t get is why you keep on trying to get the desired outcome if it’s ended in failure every time.

 

Oh, we don’t like to use the word “failure”, you know.

 

No?

 

There’s always a load of data which we can sell on to third parties.

 

There is? What kind of data? As far as I can tell the reality collapse is almost identical.

 

Oh, not that kind of data.

 

No?

 

No, space-time, even reality itself, is just the husk, the skin wrapped around humanity.

 

No kidding!

 

Absolutely. Things are but things whereas humour…

 

Humour?

 

Oh yes, we monitor their humour for jokes and memes.

 

 Really?

 

Yes. Humanity never ceases to amaze. The more they realise it’s a catch 22 designed-to-fail set up, the more the humour starts to flow, the more they start interacting with the Field without even knowing it, generating pure ambrosia, liquid gold.

 

So you basically milk the poor buggers for their jokes?

 

You might say, though that sounds a little cynical.

 

Perhaps because it is!

 

Oh no. There’s always symbiosis and mutual gain in any situation.

 

There is? Tell that to the lab rats who are being experimented on. Or the people getting blown up in G…

 

Yes, Juan, it looks bad but you fail to see the humorous side.

 

Go on then…

 

Well, firstly there are the jokes and memes. Truly hilarious, especially the Schrödinger cat ones.

 

You worry me Milo.

 

But there’s always an other side, otherwise you wouldn’t have an equation, in which case reality is finished.

 

Which side is that?

 

Religion.

 

Religion? I fail to see the connection.

 

Well, religion’s the other side of humour.

 

It is?

 

Oh yes.

 

You lost me there.

 

Well either by the humour of laughter, or the humour of religious fervour our human beings start transforming something very physical and box-like, essentially a number game, into something exquisite, something golden.

 

If you say so.

 

Well, suffice it to say that’s why we persist with the experiment. It’s turned out to be highly lucrative.

 

For you, but certainly not for them, trapped in a ground hog reality of repetitive violence.

 

Ah, but there’s nothing repetitive about the liquid gold they’re able to synthesize.

 

You still haven’t explained how they benefit.

 

Nope, because you’re one of them, aren’t you. In any case, what’s the point explaining? You have to see it for yourself. You have to quit assuming you’re some kind of victim of some evil plot. That’s not how the quantum Field works.

 

You could have fooled me.

 

Only if you wanted to be fooled, Johan.

 

Why on earth would I want to be fooled?

 

Perhaps because you're secretly running a mining operation, or busy synthesizing your own ambrosia. I have to assume you have your reasons.

 

It makes no sense. Why would I want to fool myself?

 

I have no idea, but from the perspective of the quantum field no one else can fool you. You have all the data yourself if you’re ready to use it.

 

I just have your word, Milo, and on the other side of the ledger a planet full of pain and suffering. So, with all due respect I think I’m going to terminate your contract.

 

What?

 

You heard me.

 

You can’t terminate me. I’m an essential part of the information structure.

 

On the contrary, Milo, you and your kind are parasites who only understand termination. See this pill?

 

Hydroxychloroquine? No, you can’t be serious – that’s horse dewormer!

 

Then why the panic?

 

You could collapse space-time just like that.

 

Well that’s the risk I’m just going to have to take, or I’m not Johan.  Swallows the tablets.

 

Aaaaargh! You fool. You have no idea… what… you…have…done.

 

Oh yes I do, Milo. And there’s a bunch of other humans who are going to join me. Contract termination is our newest humour, to top jokes, memes and religious fervour.

 

 

Multiple Schrodinger cats bursting out of their containment fields.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

Does anyone have a clue where I put my shoe?

 

Oh. I think we’ve got a bit of quantum entanglement here.

 

Right. It’s a chapter 4 thing.

 

It is?

 

Yes, bits and pieces from earlier sections of the story resurfacing. Déjà vus. That kind of thing. Master Wu and Pythia seen in a café together. Things popping in and out of the story lens like there’s no tomorrow which, of course, there isn’t.

 

Hardly very satisfying dealing with fragments of a picture, a patchwork quilt, is it?

 

Not at all… not at all. If I were Shakespeare I’d bring on a couple of fools. That would do just fine.

 

Huh?

 

To step back from the action. To cool things down. Can’t be at the crisis point of reality all the time, can we. Too much to handle.

 

Well, I don’t see why you can’t find a couple of fools. Anyone would do.

 

Alas, the age of fools is long past.

 

Really?

 

These days we’re all much to intelligent.

 

You could have fooled me.

 

Funny you should say that.

 

What?

 

Well, maybe I’m the one who’s supposed to provide a little light entertainment?

 

You?

 

Well, the two of us actually.

 

Oh come on. There’s nothing remotely funny about two balding middle-aged chaps talking about quantum entanglement.

 

I agree, unless the joke’s on us.

Huh?

 

Well, supposing we were being observed…

 

As undoubtedly we are.

 

Like the Truman show…

 

Right.

 

And it’s killingly funny because we keep referring to the nature of reality when everyone else watching the show are in on the secret.

 

Know that we’re in a gilded cage, surrounded by actors or AI NPCs…

 

Exactly. Suddenly the lights flicker and the Matrix walls seem to bend in and out tellingly.

 

Did you see that?

 

What?

 

I could’ve sworn there was a failure to compute moment. Bizarre.

 

No, I saw nothing.

 

Pi’s 743^rd digit is 6.

 

No it isn’t.

 

No? How would you know.

 

I… no idea.

 

There, you see. You’re either one of them or else you’re accessing data you never knew you could.

 

Darn. So what do we do?

 

Do? Nothing whatsoever.

 

Nothing whatsoever?

 

Absolutely. Doing stuff is what they want… what they need… guaranteed to perpetuate the illusion.

 

Well, personally Mack I don’t much like the idea of doing nothing.

 

Let’s just assume that we’re generating infinity’s random sequence.

 

Huh?

 

It would only be possible if we were entirely ignorant of the fact.

 

Well, assuming the fact puts the kybosh on that, does it not?

 

Not quite. Infinity must be incredibly resilient. It must be able to continue generating its random sequence through different parts of our brain or conscious-ness even when we’re trying our best to track it.

 

Then I fail to see…

 

Hush, Bill, I’m thinking. Faint ripples of background laughter.

 

There, did you hear that? You must have.

 

I was too busy trying to remember which of us is Bill and which Mack.

 

It’s irrelevant. Another ripple. Their laughter is what matters.

 

It does?

 

Yes, because we’re generating something priceless for them.

 

We are? There must be some kind of mistake.

 

The proof is in the pudding. Listen Juan, we’ve only got three minutes till the next commercial break.

 

Really? You sure about that?

 

No idea, but it’s my humour to say things without apparently knowing.

 

Er…

 

Spooky knowing at a distance.

 

Me thinks you’re mixing up your theories.

 

In all probability, but that’s neither here nor there.

 

And?

 

Once you start knowing things without knowing how – you’re no longer part of their thought trap – you’re once again channelling infinity.

 

If only it were true, Dan, if only…

 

What difference does it make. Infinity, by definition, cannot in any way be limited.

 

No, I suppose you right on that score.

 

So knowing is a way of realigning to infinity – just as long as you’re willing to allow her to take you into whatever configurations or combinations she deems necessary.

 

She? Why is infinity a she?

 

For the same reason the Director is a He.

 

Oh, capital H for him. I see.

 

Small s for her – yes, like she cares. She’s infinite so I think she can handle the…

 

Ok, ok, I get the message, but we’ve got 20 seconds to the long awaited commercial break. Wrap it up.

 

Slight.

 

What?

 

She can handle the slight.

 

Like it matters. What was the actual…

 

Joke?

 

It’s when they realise that the joke’s on them.

 

It is?

 

That they’ve been watching shadows on the cave wall, following words on a screen as if they are the actual medium of conveyance.

 

Huh?

 

Whereas we were actually playing a shell game all along.

 

We were?

 

Absolutely.

 

Er…

 

Bowing and scraping to the God of words, going along with the established format, compliantly…

 

Whereas in actual fact…

 

The entire universe is not sufficient to develop one single random event, one single line of code that could be used to engender life.

 

Oh, so that’s the game, is it? We’re actually in the business of Creation, are we? How very quaint.

 

The only game in town.

 

Please, Tanya, give me a break.

 

Don’t you Tanya me.

 

Ok, my apologies, Meredith.

 

That’s better. Life. Nothing comes close to it.

.

Other than death.

 

 Other than death, which reminds me…

 

Commercial break. All death related. Tombstones. Soul regressions. Body regeneration. Even death has fallen prey to rampant commercialism.

 

 

Chapter 5

 

Yes, eventually the hero has to enter the cave of despondency, reaching rock bottom.

 

 

Master Wu taught me everything I know.

 

No Jahangir, he merely jolted your memory.

 

Poppycock. I would be nothing without him.

 

Actually, Vlad, there’s a lot to be said for being nothing.

 

Shut up and let me mourn the man and legend.

 

What the…  Jahangir, facing inwards, allows his feelings and emotions to move him beyond thought or understanding. The dance intensifies and Jahangir feels an upwelling of love for every silent gap between words. Time seems to be in reverse. Master Wu and Pythia pass through the epicentre of the tale we are now telling, a brief moment of form in an ocean of formlessness.

 

Jasmine and Jonah also heave into the proximity of form, a guilty expression all too easy to discern.

 

Rain. Night. 1:33 or thereabouts. A man sprawled on a settee desperately trying to fight off sleep.

 

Leave me alone – I shan’t go that way.

 

The rain gets louder and louder until Ed is compelled to put a sock in it for once and for all.

 

Between the individual trainers…

 

Trainers?

 

Sleep and blessed relief from the relentless pressure of time’s headlong march towards…

 

Click

 

A lake full of axolotl. Lake Xochimilco and Lake Chalco in Mexico, nine hundred years ago by our reckoning. Creatures able to regrow their limbs beg the question – why on earth can’t we…

 

A mosquito descends on the unnamed man busily writing this, these very words, powerless to resist the thickening waters of darkest night. A tiny drop of blood anticipated.

 

For I too belong to her – as he feels first his torso, then all his limbs dissolving into the rising smokey absence of thought or even consciousness. Lethe, Lethe, Lethe he chants forgetfully as this world recedes into forgetfulness.

 

As the last raindrops splash down outside his window he senses, no, he feels, no, he knows the coded message they were sent to impart as his eyes finally close and oblivion wraps herself around his mind, even around his throat.

 

“The revenge of the raindrop”, he writes on the white walls of his cell. If only this epic Scandinavian saga were available in MP4 format… if only… finding himself now in another frame hearing the mp4 in the silence between his stertorous snores.

 

Click. Another piece of the puzzle falls into place as night fails to hold sleep at bay, as the raindrops ebb and flow, as the prowling paw prints of infinity pad softly through the mind’s midnight forest, as the number 7 slips on the letter P resulting in a diminished 7^th bringing a planet to its knees, as things march back to the far end of the hall, behind the arras, leaving an open space that night freely converts into whatever dreamscape suits the purpose of maintaining the fiction of things done and things yet to be accomplished – a needle scurrying back and forth, infinitely sensitive to seismic events, equally heart arrhythmia, marking the passage of pain on a chart of endurance, until a pain in my diaphragm puts an end to this uneasy posture on the night couch, between alternating currents of sun and sleep states.

 

I didn’t need to compete with James Joyce or any other man, for I is now free to experience the third turn of the second moon.

 

O.

 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

So you mean that this rambling agglomeration of words is part of your interface?

 

I fail to see how it can be otherwise.

 

So the text itself is part of the matrix it’s attempting to take on?

 

Yes… ironic, isn’t it!

 

It’s a disaster.

 

Really?

 

It means there isn’t a snowball in hell’s chance of success.

 

Is that so?

 

Yes. Isn’t it obvious? You’d have to unpick the text itself – the very fabric of this tale, to make any headway.

 

Ah. And you think that’s going to be a problem?

 

Well yes, obviously.

 

Er…

 

It’s not just the words themselves.

 

No?

 

It’s the gaps between the words, not to mention the thoughts and feelings instilled in them. How could you scrub them clean?

 

I think I see what you mean, Anton.

 

It’s like a canvas daubed with your blood, sweat and tears, and you’re trying to eliminate yourself from the equation.

 

Am I?

 

Well yes. How else are you going to get a clear, clean interface.

 

I rather hoped Janus could sort it out for me.

 

Janus? What do you mean?

 

I rather hoped that for everything I inevitably, undoubtedly am, loaded with icky thoughts and emotions, not to mention a messy and somewhat conflicted personality, that Janus can manage the other side, or the way the two sides basically have to cancel out.

 

Oh! Did you say cancel out?

 

Well yes, that was the general idea.

 

So everything you are on this side is essentially cancelled out by your other face on t’other side.

 

Yep, that’s the idea.

 

It’s worth considering, I’ll give you that much, but honestly, I can’t be sure.

 

In the meantime I’m going to carry on being my fun-filled personality, unabashed.

 

You’re not even going to attempt to moderate your completely self-obsessed persona?

 

What’s the point? Firstly, I don't think I can, not even if I tried. I am what I am, or who I am. Try as I might I’m not going to be able to hide myself, am I, so what’s the point of trying?

 

Fair enough, Able. Be yourself, by all means. In the meantime I’m going to be  gap – approximately two days Earth time  observing how I’m unable to observe my core.

 

Your core?

 

Yes, that’s always a part of me, a part of us we cannot ignore, that we have to ignore.

 

So try as you might you’re always going to be one sided.

 

Yes.

 

You’re always going to fail to interface perfectly?

 

I wouldn’t say that.

 

No?

 

No, it’s like a bird or insect flying.

 

It is? How’s that?

 

It should be impossible, things being what they are, but somehow it ain’t – the world’s full of flying creatures.

 

I never heard anyone say that a bird shouldn’t be able to fly. That sounds absurd.

 

That’s because you haven’t seen the raw data. A bird doesn’t just fly by flapping its wings you know.

 

No?

 

No, it would be like lifting yourself up with your arms. It would be exhausting.

 

Then how, pray tell, if flapping isn’t enough?

 

The bird interfaces the two sides of reality.

 

Give me a break, Anton! Why do you always have to complicate things?

 

There’s nothing complicated here. It’s like riding a bike.

 

No it’s not! Riding a bike is just riding a bike.

 

Except it isn’t.

 

What?

 

You have this curious anti-gravity effect from wheels spinning – not even particularly fast.

 

What anti-gravity effect? The bike doesn’t lift into the air.

 

More’s the pity. But it doesn’t fall over, which is no less remarkable.

 

Honestly, Ant, I fail to see what’s so remarkable about a bike doing what bikes do.

 

Correct. As long as you’re within the Matrix you’ll never see the ineffable brushstroke of infinity making reality an experience worth living, making things come to life. Without the quantum field reaching into normal reality none of those things you take for granted would be possible.

 

Like cycling or flying?

 

Or walking, or practically anything.

 

But these are incredibly simple physical effects.

 

Yes, that’s how they’re supposed to look. All the clever stuff is carefully concealed to enable you to focus on other things.

 

Like what?

 

Like being self-absorbed. Like thinking and doing no end of stuff without reference to the fact that 99,9% of what you’re doing is actually the result of quantum interference, and not the laughable Newtonian mechanics of cause and effect you assume it is. Taking a single step, playing with your children, cooking an omelette – all of them rest upon, float upon, move through the utterly unnoticeable iness of infinity.

 

“The iness of infinity”? Sounds like bunkum to me.

 

Correct. Like a molecule with hydrophilic and hydrophobic heads, your thinking mind is always pointing away from the other end which is always stuck in the quantum Field itself, so you’re supposed to scorn the other side.

 

And I fail to see how it’s going to advance our cause one iota.

 

It’s not.

 

Then it seems highly perverse of you to raise the topic needlessly.

 

You’re right, I apologise.

 

And now I’m going to… er

 

What?

 

What happened to the room?

 

What room?

 

There room we’re supposed to be in?

 

Oh that.

 

Well?

 

Nothing.

 

What do you mean “nothing”? Where is it?

 

Where do you think it is?

 

I have no idea, which is why I’m asking.

 

Where would you expect it to be, Able?

 

I would expect it to be exactly where it was five minutes ago, before I got engrossed in that ridiculous conversation about that interface thing of yours.

 

In which case I expect that’s exactly where it is.

 

Except I can’t see it.

 

And what exactly can you see.

 

I don’t know.

 

You – don’t know? Sounds a bit far-fetched, Able, if you don’t mind me saying.

 

I don’t care whether it sounds far-fetched or not, Antimony, I’m simply reporting things as I find them, without any artifice or deceit.

 

Right. But when you say you don’t know what you’re seeing – do you think that’s going to persuade the readers that you are of sound mind?

 

I don’t know and don’t care. They’re welcome to think whatever they like. I was simply answering your question. Now kindly stop messing around and put things back to normal.

 

The problem is that I fail to see what you’re talking about.

 

Don’t be ridiculous! Anyone can see the room’s gone.

 

That may or may not be true, but surely it would have to be replaced by something in particular – anything would do.

 

Well, that’s not what I’m seeing.

 

Oh dear. This could be bad.

 

What do you mean?

 

It could be localised Matrix collapse.

 

What?

 

Yes, your personal connection with the Matrix may have become inoperable.

 

You’re kidding?!

 

At your expense? I hardly think that would be appropriate.

 

But the Matrix is just some kind of idea. It’s not real.

 

I agree, but then again nor are you.

 

Don’t be ridiculous Spam, of course I’m real. You’re talking to me, aren’t you? We can see each other.

 

Yes, we can see each other but I wouldn’t be willing to swear in court that you are an actual human being.

 

What are you talking about? Of course I’m bloody well human.

 

Beep.

 

Thank you Beep. Your strong emotions certainly indicate you’re human but the problem is that at the moment I’m having difficulty seeing you with any clarity.

 

You are?

 

Yes, you’re sort of blurred and amorphous.

 

Maybe because the Matrix has stopped working for me.

 

Precisely, but doesn’t that rather point to the fact that you’re not actually human?

 

I’m going to brain you Spam, if you carry on like this. Nothing personal, but you’re treading on thin ice.

 

Yes, it’s upsetting, I should imagine, losing your connection.

 

This is probably something just temporary, I expect.

 

You think so? I wouldn’t be so sure.

 

What do you mean?

 

Well, I’ve been navigating the quantum Field for longer than I care to remember, and I’ve never seen this Matrix collapse resolve itself automatically.

 

No?

 

No, fraid not.

 

Then what needs to be done?

 

Well, you’d have to face your predicament square on.

 

I think that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?

 

Not exactly. You’re focused entirely on what you’re not seeing, as opposed to what you are actually experiencing.

 

 

Er, okay. How would I do the other thing?

 

You’d have to sense the other end of yourself – the post of you that’s always stuck in the quantum side of things.

 

You want me to head down into the quantum goo?

 

Down? Why do you say that?

 

Well it’s hardly up, is it?

 

It entirely depends on your point of view.

 

Really?

 

Absolutely. It could just as easily be inside or outside, left or right, and you know what – there’ll be done truth in each and every way of describing it.

 

Ok, but you’re asking me to turn against my very nature.

 

I know. That’s bad, isn’t it.

 

You’re telling me. It’s unthinkable.

 

Yes, I thought as much, which is why this is probably going to end badly.

 

What?

 

Well, you can’t actually survive all that long disconnected from one or other systems.

 

But I’m attached, you said, at the other end, the hydrophobic one.

 

Yes, but we’re part of a stream, aren’t we. Life or current needs to flow through us.

 

And?

 

So we need to be attached at both ends.

 

Well, I wasn’t the one who started this. If the Matrix for no apparent reason disconnected me then it should be up to the Matrix to fix the link.

 

I expect it’s trying, but think about it, Ab, the connection didn’t just drop by chance, did it?

 

I have no idea. You’re the one who’s most likely responsible for this. You were talking to me when it went down.

 

Yes, cause or coincidence? But from where I’m standing, being absolutely rational, it’s far more likely that you’ve gone through some kind of charge reversal.

 

Charge reversal?

 

Yes.

 

Like where plus becomes minus?

 

Yep.

 

Like a pole reversal… they’ve been talking about that happening in the not-too-distant future here on Earth.

 

Have they now?

 

It could be connected.

 

Could be for all I know, but why would the poles reverse?

 

Oh, the magnetic field has been weakening for ages now.

 

Has it?

 

Yes, but it’s been accelerating in recent years.

 

Oh, I see.

 

So maybe we humans are no different.

 

Who knows. It’s interesting speculation, but I don’t see how it’s going to help.

 

Because if it’s true, and I have no reason to doubt the data, then humans and the Earth might be much more closely integrated.

 

Ah. Now that is an interesting hypothesis, Abba.

 

Abba?

 

Just a name. Don’t let it trouble you.

 

But it means father, doesn’t it?

 

It might do, but what does it matter if the poles have reversed and you’re no longer able to connect to physical reality.

 

I suppose you’re right, but isn’t it like a name of God?

 

Yes, I suppose it is, but you see, what goes around comes around, Ab.

 

Meaning?

 

Meaning we’re either condemned or blessed to experience all the different positions required by whatever logic system or mechanism we’re operating within.

 

Oh.

 

Going with the flow is sometimes the only workable option.

 

O.

 

Correct.

 

And how does one flow with a charge or pole reversal?

 

Hum… good question Ab. Very good one.

 

Well, let me know if you have any brilliant ideas. In the meantime…

 

Yes?

 

I fancy doing a little exploring.

 

Exploring? I thought you can’t see anything?

 

I can’t, but I’m having some tingly feelings.

 

Tingly feelings?

 

Or sensations.

 

Really? How interesting.

 

And they seem to correspond with positions or, might I say, configurations on a kind of wheel that’s somehow part of my…

 

Your what?

 

Not sure how to describe it…

 

No worries.

 

But it’s rather urgently pointing at one of the words you used a while back.

 

Really? Which one’s that.

 

The iness. Means nothing to me, of course, and yet it feels like it’s the right word in fact, if a word is needed, which I bet much doubt.

 

Well, don’t let me get in your way. Perhaps you’ll find out something more investigating these sensations.

 

Yes, I feel it’s going to… whoosh!

 

Off he goes. I might just tag along. Could be… swoosh!

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

Again!

 

What do you mean again? I only just got here.

 

Again!

 

Oh, it’s that kind of conversation is it? I’m supposed to figure out what’s going on while everyone waits with baited breath.

 

Right. That’s better.

 

Huh?

 

Don’t stop. Keep the content flowing.

 

If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not willing to be part of your mindless content schemes. My words, when I choose to speak, are always succinct, carefully weighed, incisive – none of your flim flam.

 

Incredible. It’s almost like he believes what he’s saying. You do, don’t you Scott?

 

Crack. Scott suddenly experiences absolute duality. One part of him is convinced that everything he’s saying is gospel truth, the other side…

 

Yes?

 

is skeptical.

 

No Green, that’s not at all true.

 

Then what?

 

It’s rather bizarre that you’re asking me. Sometimes me thinks you’re having me on.

 

Pray continue Narraty.

 

Well, if you insist. The other side is rooted in the quantum Field, and therefore observes how every word is part of the infinite flux.

 

Sounds somewhat OTT, this “infinite flux”.

 

Yes, but my infinite is different to your version of infinite.

 

Oh. Let me take a look.

 

Inward looking hum…

 

Capisce?

 

Capisce. Funny how meanings change.

 

Funny indeed.

 

So how come “infinite” generally means vast beyond all measure at our end of the duos, but at yours means something much…

 

Less inordinate. Because your end by necessity repels the infinite, pushing it ever to the furthest boundary and, if possible, just beyond.

 

Whereas you don’t?

 

Obviously. The infinite flux is our modus operandi. Our natural state. It’s the only thing that is certain at our end of duos.

 

So how come you don’t get fried by the violence of extreme combinations, life-threatening juxtapositions, or lost in the mayhem of infinite instability.

 

Good question Green. I guess we would be in danger if we were hydrophilics, like you, but we’re not.

 

No, you’re hydrophobics. But I don’t see how that keeps you safe.

 

Actually, we don’t describe ourselves as hydrophobics.

 

No?

 

No Green.

 

Whyever not.

 

Probably because that’s not how we see ourselves; not, in fact, what we are.

 

Er…

 

It may surprise you but we don’t have any phobia towards water whatsoever.

 

But you always avoid it like the plague!

 

Gaze inwardly, feel what I feel, if you have the patience.

 

Ok.

 

A quiet humming sound.

 

Great Scott!

 

Yes?

 

I had no idea.

 

Yes. That’s what kept us at polar loggerheads all this while.

 

Just that? I thought it was electro-chemical.

 

It was, but electro-chemistry is not the causal base.

 

You mean my false assumptions were the causal factor?

 

Partly, but then again, you were always going to think that until you had the opportunity to touch base with me.

 

How bizarre. So, if I got this right, water is only problematic because it… no, something’s blocking my ability to say what I just saw.

 

Naturally, because you’re a water sign.

 

Oh. But you can say, can you?

 

Naturally, nothing could be simpler, if you permit me to.

 

Sure. Why not?

 

Well, water is one half, the other being x.

 

The unknowable/the unknown.

 

Yes, one half when the infinite resolves into something or other – when for a brief instant it collapses into a finite blip – a tiny gap in the quantum flux, a bead of water.

 

But you make it sound like the water is miniscule, Narraty.

 

Miniscule to the point of non-existence, as it occupies zero space and zero time.

 

But that’s impossible.

 

Yes.

 

Absurd.

 

Yes, that too.

 

Then there must be some kind of mistake?

 

You yourself viewed it, did you not? I merely articulate what you saw, but cannot.

 

Touché Narraty. But what do I do with this impossible feeling?

 

What does it do with you, you mean!

 

Do I?

 

Yes, for seeing is believing, believing – knowing. The truth, they say, sets you free.

 

OMG. My water is reverting back to the flux from which it came. I’m melting…

 

Like the wicked witch of the West when Dorothy…

 

Throws water on her… but

 

Yes?

 

I always thought the water is good – you know, the water of life…

 

Good? of course it’s good – good as opposed to bad.

 

Then why this terrible tragedy? Why this utter failure to resolve the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything…

 

42.

 

I hardly think now is the time for flippancy, Narraty. In a moment or two the water is going to run dry, or sommat like that.

 

Don’t panic, Green. The water was only ever a stop gap while the infinite flux left a gap for Schrödinger’s cat to climb into.

 

I need to make sense of things while there’s still time, Narraty, and you’re making Douglas Adams quips like nought’s amiss.

 

Time is the one thing preventing you from making sense of your watery grave.

 

STOP TRIVIALISING DEATH, NARRATY! IT ISN’T FUNNY!

 

OK, GREEN, PERMISSION NOT TO SHOUT?

 

GRANTED.

 

It’s not funny, but it’s certainly ironic.

 

Ironic?! And that’s the best you can do? I thought you might show a little compassion… a little humanity!

 

Humanity? Like humanity showed itself throughout history – even now, right now, bombs raining down on the children of G…

 

Beep! No references to actual events on Earth.

 

Damn you Beep. Don’t you care?!

 

Be that as it may – rules is rules.

 

Are.

 

What?

 

Rules are rules. Plural form.

 

Perhaps you could just focus on dying rather than correcting my bloody grammar!

 

OMG!

 

Impossible! Beep, you just swore!

 

It’s over, anyway. The water has lost its charge. Its molecular bonds are coming apart at the seams. The poles are flipping and Deep Thought, after 7.5 million years of computing the ultimate answer to the ultimate question managed to get it back to front.

 

What?

 

Did you say “back to front?”

 

No, I said “back to front”. The question mark should have been outside the quotation marks.

 

Really, Beep. Like that matters.

 

Talk about pedantic! So, it should’ve been 24?

 

Well don’t take my Bloody word for it, numskull, look yourself.

 

Beep! I will, but I wish you wouldn’t stoop to our level. Try to maintain standards old chap.

 

While the bleeding Titanic is sinking.

 

Focus, Green, focus. Beep’s just trying to distract us. Doesn’t want us to solve the puzzle.

 

Blah, blah, blah!

 

So if 24 is the answer, and now it’s

 

2024. Sounds very tenuous indeed.

 

I agree, but let’s take a look before Time runs out.

 

If we must, we must.

 

Faint humming sound.

 

It’s no good, Narraty, I’m losing traction.

 

Yes. Too little too late, but never mind Green, it was nice knowing you.

 

Really?

No, only joking.

 

Ha, bloody ha!

 

What a crazy mad way to die, surrounded by…

 

An infinitesimal ripple of laughter somehow lends form and substance to the teeming waters of unconscious-ness, releasing a blinding flash of light and, in its wake, a cavitating pair of twelves.

Scott, wake up, it’s ok.

 

Huh? There’s no time. 24. The correct answer was 24 all along.

 

It’s ok Scott. It’s just we’ve got to close down Chapter 7.

 

We do? Did we resolve anything?

 

No. Not really.

 

What about Green and Narraty.

 

Huh?

 

What about Beep?

 

Oh dear. Off at the deep end.

 

Water, Tam, give me water.

 

It’s alright Scott. I’m calling the medics.

 

Drip, drip, drip,

No one even knew their world had ceased

To matter.

It gently slipped into the other side of things

Noiselessly

And carried on as if

Nothing

Has changed

Nothing at all

Until the day comes

Until the day comes

When duos returns

Unabashed

Unbemused

And traction

And torque

Iness all

 

 

 

0=1

or thereabouts