capital crimes

 

Would you quit moaning Zina! There's nothing wrong with the world.

 ?!

 

Thank you.

 

What do you mean “thank you”? I'm not done yet.

 

No, but i am.

 

You’re done? I can't believe I'm hearing this. You're the ultimate egoist.

 

Apparently so, but on the other hand you’re creating a fake drama which i neither choose nor need to be part of.

 

Fake drama? Are you off your rocker? The whole world’s going to hell in a handbasket, and you presume to...

 

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

 

Oh, oh, oh...

 

There, there, my little chicken, all’s well that...

 

Ends well?

 

Huh? Can't imagine why you've decided things are going to end. They would have to be very particular things to get round to ending. Oh no, Zina, ending is the last thing that things are going to do, no pun intended.

 

Merry, I'm going mad.

 

Yes. You're trying to drive forward using the rear-view mirror. It won't do. Everything that looks terribly wrong with the world is only apparently so if the world is still what it used to be, in other words, if the quantum field is not the active centre of infinity, pulsing through every particle and particularity of matter.

 

You mean to say...?

 

Absolutely... If things are looking dire, as they often do, rejoice, either the end is finally nigh, in which case relax, there's nothing you can do, or else a huge blob of unknowableness is even now as we speak, making itself known, bubbling up from the quantum depths of infinity, changing irrevocably the landscape of what is, or was, apparently reality.

 

And this is a fact?

 

Well, it’s the nature of the Field, innit? Reality can only make way for the new by seeming to veer off into the abyss. Omlet, broken eggs, ring a bell?

 

So, what are we supposed to do, in the meantime?

 

Whatever you like. I really couldn't care less, if only you'll stop hassling me. My head has internal blisters from all your gnashing and wailing.

 

Rewind Merry.

 

Actually it’s Murphy.

 

Ok, whatever, rewind Murphy.

If you insist.

 

The world’s on the brink of all-out war, there’s economic chaos, climate change – or so we’re told – everywhere you look things are coming unhinged.

 

Yep. That’s reality for you.

 

And you don’t want to do anything about it?

 

What’s the point? Reality will do as reality does.

 

You mean you can’t affect it?

 

No, I mean that reality is like a looping script going round and round with the same old apocalyptic narrative. It’s like a barking dog. A braying donkey.

 

Reality?

 

Yep.

 

And you’re not worried the barking dog isn’t going to come and bite you?

 

Not if it’s chained up.

 

Er…

 

Look Zina – reality wants you to panic – wants you to be in a twitter.

 

Wants?

 

Yep, absolutely.

 

Reality can’t want anything.

 

No? You think it’s just neutral – a purely neutral operating system that isn’t trying to game your consciousness?

 

What on earth are you on about Merr – I mean Murphy?

 

Look – things are not what they seem. The elephant hiding under the rug is your quantum field master node.

 

My what?

 

Otherwise known as “consciousness”.

 

Huh?

 

It’s basically nothing, isn’t it?

 

What is?

 

Your consciousness.

 

Nothing?

 

Yep. It’s completely taken for granted – almost completely unnoticeable and thus, not surprisingly, unnoticed.

 

My consciousness?

 

Yours, mine – it’s all really one – but yes – it surfaces, popping its little head up – connecting with this ‘ere reality through you, through me, through anyone.

 

And what?

 

And that’s basically it. Because you’re almost completely unaware of it – and assume you're just a little person-y thing – a little human surrounded by big scary problems – you squawk and quack and cluck and twitter – and reality loves you for it – because it gets to commandeer and utilise all those parts of your vast, interconnected consciousness which are not being used – which are essentially out of bounds while you’re having that panic attack.

 

So reality is a kind of predator, you’re saying?

Not necessarily. Let’s not rush into victimhood. Let’s try assuming that things were set up to self-balance, to self-regulate.

 

And what?

 

Well, nature abhors a vacuum. If you’re neither able nor willing to be a good steward of your consciousness – if you give up responsibility for it because the things happening around you seem to be unmanageable at a personal level – then reality rightly makes use of those resources which you no longer hold in high esteem – which you do not or cannot trust in.

 

You mean to say we have the resources within our simple consciousness to manage the entire planet?

 

To manage reality – yes – of course. If that is best done on this ‘ere planet – then so be it – but consciousness is not any way, shape or form limited to any one planet or system of material organisation. It can and does shift frequencies if the existing frequencies are getting crowded or disharmonious.

 

But this sounds way too complicated for the average Joe Bloggs.

 

Yep. Way too complicated. The average Joe Bloggs is absolutely committed to serving and upholding a particular world view – a particular sense of self and things and matter – ie a particular version of reality. In other words, your Joe Bloggs is committed to playing for the anti-team, doing everything to deny, to obfuscate, yea, to even disconnect the quantum field master node that you emerge from.

 

Well, I think that’s a very sweeping statement.

 

True. Very sweeping. Let’s see what happens, shall we?

 

So you’re not going to try to help?

 

Nope.

 

Not in any way?

 

Nope.

 

No compassion? No mercy?

 

Nope. Not a drop.

 

But people can’t be blamed – they’re in the dark.

 

Wait a minute Zina – how on earth can anyone be “in the dark” if we’re all perched atop a column of light and dark – what you might refer to as the tree of life – though I’m not trying to over-biblicise things here.

 

Well, I never saw this column of light and dark – so I’m pretty sure no one else did.

 

See, hear – the fact remains that things have an uncanny knack of triggering awarenesses within your field – awarenesses which constantly bring you deeper than the noise of meaningless thoughts and fears, connecting you briefly with the silent mass of what is what – the central column of so-called consciousness.

 

And what?

 

And the operating system known as reality sees your awareness levels spike – everytime this occurs – and therefore it starts barking and braying – feverishly trying its utmost to distract you – to keep your attention glued to peripheral things.

 

Peripheral things? – that just happen to be life threatening?

 

Look – when you’re driving a car there are always cars going the other way which are totally life-threatening – should you for whatever reason steer ever so slightly towards them. A frontal collision and you’re toast. We ignore those threats because we’re focussed on something better – on getting something done – on travelling to an intended destination – because we’re able to manage our mind, locking into the good rather than the bad.

 

So we should just ignore all the madness happening in the world?

 

Yes and no.

 

?

 

Yes – if you’re actually going somewhere – doing something meaningful – engaging the quantum field in order to work with so-called consciousness – bringing aspects of infinity into your reality. That’s easy enough to do if you choose to be alive and human – if you choose to follow the beauty, the power, the truth, rather than money and laser lights on the floor for cats.

 

Ok – so you think that if I do that – if I engage this field thing – whatever it is – I become immune to bombs and diseases?

 

What bombs? What diseases? They don’t exist at the central column of consciousness. They’re only in the outer ring – the periphery – out in reality.

 

But we see people getting killed.

 

Yep. And what? Are you going to trust your eyes more than your life force? I can deceive your eyes very, very easily, I assure you. The fact is that there’s a world order – a world set up in a certain way which has a kind of personality – a life of its own – and it doesn’t want to die. It wants you – all of you – and your attention – all of it – if it’s going to survive. As long as your attention is glued to that screen – to those events – you cannot experience the quantum field – you cannot dance with infinity – you can’t, you won’t – you’ve allowed yourself to be enthralled and enslaved. You cannot serve two masters.

 

Heard that one before. Getting a bit biblical on me, aren’t you Murphy.

 

Plenty of good aphorisms in the bible, you know. Are we done?

 

Yes, I mean no. Look – I need to test this.

 

Sure, go ahead.

 

What if I have a gun and shoot you? Can’t you be killed?

 

Wanna try?

 

No, of course not.

 

That’s just the thing, Zina, isn’t it? You’re speculating based upon doubts and uncertainties – in other words – you’re feeding the beast and serving your dark lord.

 

Wait a second – I’m just asking a rational question.

 

Yes, but in order to “just ask” that “rational” question you had to disconnect from all that is – from the central column of consciousness – you had to kiss the ring of the dark lord Rahl, you had to lock your mind firmly into 3D materialism.

 

The dark lord Rahl? Who’s that?

 

No matter. Look – unless you’re actually willing to give it a try it’s a pointless discussion.

 

But I don’t actually have a gun, and even if I did I wouldn’t want to use it.

 

Right. So why bring it up? Just speculating – is that it?

 

Well yes. That’s what intellectual’s do, isn’t it? That’s what differentiates humans from animals – that we’re able to speculate hypothetically.

 

Correct – that you’re able to put up a vacant sign and invite squatters into your mind – because you actually benefit from what they bring in.

 

Squatters?

 

Energies – thought critters – yes – you benefit all right – otherwise you wouldn’t do it.

 

But how?

 

They give you the material reality you so crave – and the opportunity to run a virtual web – to experience and study a hypothetical reality in which things are fixed as primary or defining factors – and the game is manoeuvring through the flat web of connections – like a game of chess – to see if you can get the upper hand – take a few pieces from your opponents.

 

My opponents?

 

Yes. The flat 3D web is always, always oppositional – even when it seems to be collaboratory – sooner or later the next phase of the struggle for control and domination is certain to break out.

 

That’s a very pessimistic viewpoint Murphy.

 

Damn it – call me Morpheus won’t you.

Morpheus? I’m getting some kind of déjà vu moment here.

 

Naturally. The connections are tightening rapidly. Here, catch.

 

Zina catches a gun.

 

What’s this for Morpheus.

 

There’s a guy out there.

 

There is?

 

Yep. He’s going to try to kill you.

 

What?!

 

You can stay alive and carry on playing – but you’ve got to do two things.

 

What?

 

You’ve got to say nothing and shoot him before he shoots you.

 

But what if he’s not actually going to kill me…

 

Then you’d be a murderer – but I assure you he is.

 

And the second thing?

 

You mustn’t let him know you’re going to strike.

 

You already said – say nothing.

 

No, that isn’t enough. He can read your mind.

 

Come on Morpheus – give me a break.

 

He’s a reality bot. He has access to your general state of awareness.

 

Oh.

 

But not to your deeper consciousness. So, you can only kill him if you act from there.

 

From my deeper state of consciousness?

 

Yep – your central column – so to speak.

 

And if I don’t?

 

He’s good – he can kill you a million ways before you’d even notice what he was doing.

 

Sounds like he’s done this before.

 

It’s his job.

 

How do you mean?

 

He keeps reality clear of trouble spots – people who are cottoning on – who know too much. They start disrupting the signal. It’s catching. Very soon other people round about would start to feel and see the power, the strength, the truth emanating from you.

 

They would?

 

Absolutely. He’s coming.

 

Hey – Morpheus – hey! Shit. Where did he go?

 

Steps in the corridor outside. Zina finds herself instinctively in catlike pose – no way – something’s going down in the quantum field – she’s absolutely aware of the death presence looming up on her – and there’s something else – something behind – something within – silent – so silent – so very silent – and strong – and – Zina is literally experiencing the moment like a cat – a wild cat meeting a predator – and switches views – looking down from the ceiling – no longer looking through her usual eyes – she sees him before he even comes into the room – she sees the door handle turning – she scans the metal and feels the exact amount of pressure being applied to open it noiselessly – she scans the floor beneath his feet – feeling his weight – his level of poise, pivot and step – she allows her attention to go into his gun – the bullets waiting in the chamber – already looking to connect with her – already planning moves ahead as he steps through the doorway – and his mind is a blank – for as Morpheus said – he’s a reality bot – though he looks like any well-dressed assassin – but between his mind and his muscles she feels a flow of 01s – and they give the game away – she reads them – feeling their targeted, focussed flow – and her awareness locks into their signal – fascinated by what it reveals – fascinated by how it sources itself in her – actually in her field.

 

I can only be killed with my acquiescence – she notices herself thinking – astonished and deeply impressed by the source of this knowing – which comes from the central column of certainty itself. Even as she sees this unequivocally – as she feels the tenuous but real connection between the assassin and her own avatar self – here in 3D reality – without the least compunction she empties her gun’s rounds into the hunter – experiencing the astonishing sensation of his unforeseen death from both sides, and from the all-seeing-ness above.

A moment's silence.

Ok, Morpheus. I see what you mean.

 

Atta girl Zina – but er… put that thing away. Now I know what you’re capable of I’m not so sure I want you waving it at me.

 

Around Morpheus and Zina the field bends and morphs. The assassin vanishes from sight – the blood too – just leaving the faintest hint of traumatised 01s.

 

Yes – they’ll be alright. That’s what music and dance are for.

 

Really?

 

Of course. Morpheus takes out a violin.

 

No way?! I never knew you played the violin.

 

You probably never knew, likewise, that you’re able to soothe those unhappy binaries with a rather magical, even at times seductive dance.

And to her astonishment Zina finds herself flowing with the music and sweeping reality back into a new improved configuration – with dangers and deadly threats lurking around the next corner – for sure – but for the time being – beautifully, blissfully harmonious with the all of all, the central column of consciousness itself.

 

 

0=1

if at all

demons in despair

So I'm doing a spot of programming.

You mean you’re pissing around imagining you’re able to influence the world as it goes up in flames, or down, in a desperate ploy to overcome your overwhelming feelings of impotency.

Huh...? Dang, you’re good. Am I really that transparent?

Well, you're human, aren't you? What did you expect?

Wait! You mean you're not?!

Oh I’m human too, mostly, I just happen to be good at reading people.

You’re telling me! But you're not, on the other hand terribly good at reading source code, are you?

Source code, my ass!

Could you tone it down a touch?

Huh?

How about – “source code, my foot” – I think it works just as well.

OMG, if it means so much to you, if you think it actually makes a difference. I could say “privy” too, instead of toilet.

Oh yes, we could slowly work our way back to classical English.

As if we have nothing better to do.

Well, that's just the thing, Ed, these seemingly unimportant, outdated matters actually matter hugely where source code is concerned.

You won't give up, will you? You're actually convinced that you can rewrite the matrix?

Well, someone's gotta do it, so I simply have to give my mad delusions the benefit of the doubt.

Ok, two can play at that game. Let me give you the benefit of the doubt for a brief moment. What exactly is it you've been tinkering with?

Ah, thought you'd never ask.

Pathetic.

I thought you were going to give me the benefit of the doubt?

I am. Grudgingly.

Well try again.

Or what? You won't play ball.

Or nothing.

You scare me...

Huh. Max, where are you?

-Nothing emanating unobtrusively-

Er, Max, I believe you, okay. Can we continue the dialogue? My bad.

The nothing seems to thin somewhat, like a fog as the sun threatens to break through.

I’m actually impressed Max. Your nothing is top notch. It’s obviously way beyond anything I could hope to achieve.

Really?!

For sure. Ah, there you are. Er... how did you do that?

Do?

Yes, you must have done something.

Wrong, Ed...

Oh, call me Mephistopheles, won't you.

I’d rather not. Call me old fashioned or unsophisticated but I have a deeply rooted aversion to that name.

Yes, I encounter this kind of discrimination all the time, Max, but surely someone who has mastered nothing the way you evidently have...

I have mastered nothing whatsoever, i assure you.

Precisely.

No, i mean, absolutely nothing.

Exactly.

Oh fiddlesticks. Ok Mephistopheles, if that's what you now want to be called.

Want? It's merely my name, for better or for worse.

So are you the real McCoy?

Do i look like a demon?

It's a bit tricky Mephistopheles, one never can tell with demons, they have this knack of being able to disguise themselves undetectably.

Touché. Well, right now I’m your number one fan. I’d give literally anything to learn how to conjure up that nothing of yours.

You would? And why’s that?

You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to be constantly under the scrutiny of an all seeing eye.

You mean God?

Or the devil himself. Both as bad as each other if you know what i mean.

So you want me to share my know how?

I’d pay you handsomely.

I bet you would.

Oh goody, this is going to be such fun.

And what would you do with nothing, if you don't mind me asking?

Oh, you know, fight to make the world a better place.

Wow, I'm impressed.

You know humanity’s never going to advance an iota being caught, as it is, between the rock of God and the hard place of...

the devil.

Precisely.

So you’re going to put things right.

Absolutely. It'll be my pleasure.

But why? Aren't you supposed to be evil?

I got typecast horribly. Bear in mind Max...

Oh, call me Zina, won't you?

Sure, why not, that all the world's a stage, and all of us really players.

Sounds familiar.

So, you have your Capulets and your Montagues duking it out, trying to get the upper hand, but it was never going to happen, was it?

No?

Not a chance. Parity was more or less baked into the cake. Left hand and right hand trying to strangle one another.

Oh, i get you.

Until you come along with nothing whatsoever.

Little ol’ me.

And teach me how to vanish from the screen.

And that's a big deal?

In terms of the quantum field yes, you bet, absolutely 100 million percent and counting.

Don't you think you might be exaggerating just a tad?

Exaggerating? Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting for this?

For nothing?

Yep.

Er... 6660 years?

Not bad, pretty good actually, more or less spot on, in fact.

So from biblical creation, if you go by the official chronology.

Absolutely.

But what about those scientists?

What about them?

Don't they say that the world is much older?

Yep.

And isn't it?

Depends, doesn't it.

On what?

On what, and on how.

Huh?

On what you’re counting, and how. The devil's in the detail.

Oh.

So how come no one figured it out?

What do you mean no one?

Until now?

Presumably because...

I'm the chosen one?

If you want to put it like that.

Not really.

Things just happen when they happen, alright. It's always going to happen sooner or later, in good time. 

Good time? Sounds like time is more than merely a measure of moments passing.

Time? Absolutely, but don't get me started on time or we'll be here forever.

So you have been literally waiting forever for nothing, and then suddenly here i am. How likely is that?

How likely? You've figured out how to code nothing, and you're asking me about probabilities? Give me a break Zina.

Ok Mephistopheles, fair enough, i was just hoping to learn from your unique perspective while you download my nothing app.

Oh, you have an app version, do you? How wonderful.

Figuratively speaking.

Love it. You’re incredible Zina, honestly, you could be in the team.

In the team?

One of us, the way you lead me on.

Yes, Mephistopheles, i know.

You do... Er... How do you mean?

Don't you think it's just a little too convenient?

What?

That you get this sudden lucky break?

It's what I've been praying for.

Praying?

Secretly. Don’t tell anyone.

So suddenly you get the break, the elusive opportunity to supplant the twin pillars of good and evil with your own feel good version of quantum unentanglement.

You mean to say you're not going to...

I mean nothing whatsoever.

Nooooooooooooooooo. – Mephistopheles falls to his knees, evidently broken hearted. You have no idea, Zina, the world is like an endless game of ping pong, neither player can lose: back and forth, back and forth, all eyes glued to the ball as it makes time and space ever less meaningful, as the chance of victory by either side diminishes exponentially with every successful return stroke. We've tried everything...

We?

I, we, what difference does it make. The game cannot be either lost or won.

Naturally.

Naturally? You know?

I’m a woman.

You are? Oh yes, i see now, but honestly, what difference does that make?

None whatsoever.

Er... then why mention it. I’m unable to follow your logic.

Naturally.

You mean to say, you exist outside rhyme or reason, a law until yourself, that neither the players control your...

My what?

I don't know.

Precisely. There's the answer. Isn't it?

But there are millions of women. What makes you special?

No idea. Who cares, or why, in fact, assume I'm in any way special or different.

Because you’re able to channel nothing, aren't you? You’re unaffected by the ping pongification of space and time.

Yawn. Mephistopheles, you don't get it, do you?

Er, not really. But maybe if i could download your nothing app I’d start to figure it out.

I’m sure you will.

So what do i need to do?

Do?

Yes, in order to do nothing?

Nothing whatsoever.

Yes.

Nothing at all.

Wait a minute...

If you wish.

I can't just stop doing things, just like that.

No? Whyever not?

Because my whole existence is predicated on what i do.

Yes. Fascinating isn't it.

What?

You’re a doer, aren't you, man?

Yes, I suppose i must be.

And yet you’ve apparently reached the point in the movie where you want to figure out how not to do, don't you? You've exceeded your bandwidth capacity. No? 

Ah, i think i see where you’re going. 

Do you?

No, i mean yes, i mean...

01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 01 beeeep!

Men! Honestly.

0=1 

noughtwithstanding

nothing personal

 G-nomeportal is experiencing technical difficulties.

No ways,  i don't believe it.

 

What's there to believe? 

 

It's just a figure of speech.

 

Is it? 

 

Yeah.

 

Only problem being that g-nomeportal code doesn't recognise figures of speech.

 

But surely...

 

We use figures of speech all the time – don’t we?

 

Precisely.

 

Yes and no.

 

Er…

 

Your “I don’t believe it” is merely a figure of speech on the one hand – but on the other you don’t or can’t or won’t believe what I’ve declared to be true. You’re essentially requiring further proof.

 

Well what if I am? What’s wrong with that?

 

Nothing – if you’re a regular guy living in a regular 3D reality.

 

And what else am I supposed to be?

 

Well, supposing you were a regular guy who deals with reality as opposed to 3D assumptions of reality – supposing you were willing and able to handle the truth as it is – as it comes – no matter what.

 

Supposing I am?

 

Then you’d react differently to my statement of fact.

 

You mean I’d just swallow it hook, line and sinker – without bothering to verify whether you were joking or not.

 

Yep – and no.

 

?

 

Yes – you’d accept the truth without this coy or coquettish need to be warmed to it and persuaded to buy in to it.

 

So I’m just supposed to say “yes” to the first guy who tells me he loves me and wants to marry me?

 

Precisely – you’ve been conditioned to fend off and resist important things, outliers, events, assertions or statements of fact which lie outside the statistical bands of sigmas 1 and 2. Anything earthshattering’s going to be rejected unless it can be thoroughly proven.

 

Sounds very sensible to me.

 

Indeed it is. Except if you’re intending to get airborne – to go beyond 3D reality.

 

And then I just have to throw caution to the winds and blindly trust whatever you’re claiming to be true?

 

Nope.

 

Then what?

 

Nothing.

 

Nothing?

 

Yes. You need to cultivate nothing.

 

Nothing?

 

Yes. A resonance chamber. An empty space of stillness.

 

And er… why exactly should I be cultivating nothing?

 

Because there’s no other way.

 

?

 

There’s too much – way too much data to process using the old tried and tested coy mistress approach. It needs the full heart connection. It requires basic knowing – and basic knowing – as the word implies – comes from no-ness – the emptiness within.

 

Give me a break – the etymology of “know” is completely different to that of “no”.

 

Yes. 3D has it all carefully diced and sliced with convenient etymologies – and other facts to boot – yet beyond 3D you’ll find that those different etymologies – the “nay” as opposed to “cnawan” in fact converge – or amount to the same.

 

Utter rot.

 

Yes. That too – zero being one.

 

Oh – you have a catchall to deal with any break in your logic whatsoever, don’t you.

 

Yes, that’s certainly how it looks Zina – but in the end – who cares? The proof is in the pudding. Either I’m able to work the various strands of reality into a magical, meaningful fabric that holds together against all odds and reveals something truly wonderful that ain’t otherwise accessible – or I’m a charlatan, a fake, an utter fraud. The pudding is the only meaningful test. What about yours?

 

Mine?

 

Yes, your pudding?

 

Er…

 

How’s your reality holding up? How’s it feeling at the mo?

 

Er…

 

Is it full of delight and joy – a magical expression of the infinite present within each one of us and, hopefully, throughout creation?

 

Er…

 

Or is it a steaming pile of doo doo? A mess? A nothing burger?

 

It’s er…

 

Difficult to say?

 

Well, I’m not saying everything’s perfect at the present moment. I mean – let’s be realistic. There are problems – without a doubt.

 

Problems?

 

Yes of course – it’s only to be expected. There’s Covid…

 

Covid?

 

And global warming.

 

Global warming?

 

Climate change – I meant – and various human rights issues.

 

Anything else?

Well, there’s a lot that’s dysfunctional right now – I’m not going to hide the fact – but I don’t see why I’m supposed to feel guilty about the state of the world – it’s a learning laboratory, isn’t it? We’re learning as we go. We’re evolving. We’re discovering new, improved ways to manage healthcare, the environment, the global economy – all the main issues affecting humanity at present.

 

Absolutely. No need to feel guilty. No one ever suggested you should so I’m surprised you even suggested the idea.

 

Well, somewhere inside I always feel a little bit responsible for what’s going on in the world.

 

You do?

 

Yes, I suppose I do. Perhaps I have a hyperactive conscience. Something like that.

 

Oh.

 

Perhaps that helps me to remain involved – looking for better, brighter solutions – you know – the fact that I’m not apathetic – the fact that I care – and that I feel that in some way it’s personal.

 

Personal. Yes – I suppose it is – if you go beyond 3D.

 

Huh?

 

Well, at the 3D level you can hardly claim that you’re personally responsible for the state of the world, can you?

 

No, t'would be absurd.

 

But zero being one – beyond 3D – once the infinite is brought back into play…

 

Yes?

 

Then it’s a different story altogether – innit?

 

I – don’t really know.

 

Correct. But your so-called “conscience” does, doesn’t it?

 

I don’t know. Perhaps my conscience is over-active. Perhaps it wrongly assumes that I’m at the centre of the universe?

 

Perhaps. But then again – perhaps it knows what you yourself don’t.

 

I don’t see how it can.

 

No – you don’t – but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t or can’t, does it?

 

True. But, in any case – you said there are problems with g-nomeportal – that it’s experiencing technical difficulties.

 

Yes.

 

So, does that mean you’re doing something wrong?

 

Yes and no.

 

As usual... 0=1

 

Correct.

 

Well, what is it then?

 

Yes – I allow myself to become human.

 

Human?

 

Wrong term – to be truly human is in fact to be godlike.

 

Really?

 

Truly. So I should have said – I allow myself to be drawn into personhood – into the me-ness – and…

 

What?

 

Then things start getting a bit woolly.

 

Woolly?

 

The system starts crashing. Reality…

 

What?

 

Starts to implode.

 

Holy smokes.

 

Yes, it can be rather dramatic – in fact – it is something of a do or die situation.

 

Yikes. What exactly’s going down technically at g-nomeportal?

 

We’ve been infiltrated by some hackers from the dark web.

 

You have?

 

Apparently so. Actually – they came in through you.

Er…

 

Not trying to foist a guilt trip on you, or anything Zina.

 

Through me?

 

Yes. I allow myself to connect with your reality through you – and thus – conversely – 3D reality can access g-nomeportal’s computing field through you.

 

And – what have they done?

 

Oh – just scrambled the circuits. Nothing too significant.

 

Wait a minute… scrambled the circuits?

 

Yes. It’s kind of funny to observe. The whole of 3D reality should be completely defunct by now. It was – is – the nuclear option.

 

Then how come we’re still alive and operational?

 

How come zero equals one? Or how long is a piece of string, for that matter?

 

Er…

 

No one knows, and no one, I might add, cares.

 

What do you mean – “no one cares?!” Of course we damn well care.

 

Ah yes, the person cares greatly, does it not?

 

It?

 

Well yes, the person is essentially a biomachine – an it.

 

Wait a minute… You can’t mean to say…

 

Actually Zina, it’s utterly irrelevant what I mean to say – is it not?

 

Huh?

 

The proof being in the pudding.

 

Er…

 

Unless I’m talking sense, as in truth, the higher dimensions – the greater interconnectedness of multiple interlocking spheres – in which the human is the centre of a vast, universal, exquisitely conceived gear mechanism – would be inaccessible, unattainable – uncatchupablewith.

 

Uncatchupablewith?

 

Well yes – every time you add another sphere which is part of the multiple gear wheel mechanism – you’re multiplying the speed and quantity of connections to – well let’s just keep things simple and say to infinity, or thereabouts.

 

But…?

 

You start with one additional wheel – and think – wow – how interesting is that – and then you discover there’s another – connecting with a planet – then another planet – and sooner or later all nine seem to be in position – vital to your functioning at the centre of all this – plus the moon, and then – blow me – if the stars and comets don’t also connect in – and before you know it – you realise that the complexity is off the charts – your talking 17 to 73 sigma or beyond – and then you’re asking yourself how anything in the entire universe can possibly be random if the spheres or wheels connect so perfectly – if your date and place of birth – not to mention your death all just happen to perfectly coincide – and then some hackers bring down the solid-state crystalline mainframe at g-nomeportal and you smile because you realise that the entire universe always was, and is, the backup mechanism for anything truly meaningful – and of course – g-nomeportal has never been anything if not meaningful – zero being one and all that.

 

But that doesn’t explain how reality is still operational if the story wheels have been jammed?

 

Not just the story wheels. G-nomeportal doesn’t just keep story alive you know.

 

No? What else?

 

Did you never wonder what all those funny plants were for?

 

What plants?

 

Oh – you never noticed.

 

Noticed what?

 

You saw the gallery didn’t you.

 

Yes, of course.

 

And the rock garden.

 

Yes.

 

And the irrigation system that went up the hillside to a bog at the very top?

 

Well naturally I saw all of the above.

 

And you never wondered how the water went up the hill.

 

Er… pumps, I assumed.

 

And what the bog on top of the hill was doing?

 

Carbon capture? All in the name of ecology.

 

And what about the insects – termites, ants, beetles – you saw them I presume?

 

Yes of course I did.

 

But not the plants.

 

Well it’s a very bleak, almost lunar landscape here, isn’t it.

 

Right. And how were all the birds feeding?

 

I’m sure someone was putting out seeds for them.

 

Ok.

 

Well, are you going to explain what was really going on or not?

 

Zero equals one, Zina. Poetry is the central mechanism at g-nomeportal.

 

Poetry? Can’t say I ever noticed much of that.

 

In motion.

 

Poetry?

 

Yes. It’s a computer – a living computer beyond anything you could possibly imagine.

 

But where were the plants then?

 

Your person is part of the computer – a single processor if you like – or a computer chip – whatever you prefer – so you could never see anything that corresponded to your particular level of things, your personhood.

 

No? Why not?

 

Because you were never ready to process and go beyond your limited sense of me – your person-y-ness.

 

That’s a bit unkind of you Merry.

 

Or to put it another way – you are part computer yourself and part…

Click... click... click – wheels a-turning in the cosmic cog gear mechanism somewhere behind Zina's conscious-awareness, somehow connecting to another wheel in the vicinity of the Orion Nebula and a third...

 

No – don’t say it. No – I can’t be…

 

Plant.

 

Aaaaaarghhhhh!

 

Bizarre – you know all this perfectly well – the same way you know you’re thirdly neither computer nor plant – are you…

 

Ah… yes, of course – that’s much easier to handle.

 

You are prose and poetry. You are – and here the gear wheels start to hum while the g-nomeportal disaster recovery team  perform the dance of a thousand hammers, banging cymbals and stamping their feet, eagle feathers in their heads and fierce symbols painted on their bodies – thereby re-tuning the g-nomeportal solid-state crystalline mainframe to the all that is, if all is, in fact, truly isable – if zero, in fact, equals...

 

Music to my ears – Zina starts to sway as the music moves her.

 

Isn’t it just?  So you see, g-nomeportal has anti-vulnerabilities – or anti-fragilities built into its bio-nought-(y)-ness.

 

And there’s nothing stopping me from accessing the higher maths of poesy?

 

What could possibly stop you, other than the frail, intractable person you are, the character en-taled, who is desperately afraid of seeing too deeply, knowing too clearly – of letting go of the last tale and allowing infinity to work its magic – to dish up something or nothing as it sees fit, new, to iterate as mathematically it needs must, or else deny the plants and creatures it feeds their sustenance.

 

So why don’t we just accept the fact that we’re not going to learn anything important until

 

until?

 

or unless

 

unless?

 

our dark n'evil

dark n'evil?

our twisted and demented friends in high

high?

but low places – the very ones who seem hellbent on bringing the entire world down into the dungeons of Darwinism – until they paradoxically succeed in taking us to the point beyond plausible deniability – the point at which we cannot help but recognise that something else is keeping the ship afloat – is keeping systems operational when all else has failed – that we never were, nor could be part of anyone else's narrative, for we are of another element, one that sings ineffably, divinely, no matter where, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how dire... somehow, impossibly, you might say, we ring true, we chime, we sing, we – Zina melts into the music, the dance, the liquid word.

 

We do. Precisely. The power of poetry – the living word – the beauty of beauty for neither purpose nor reason – a divine heartstring twanging inconsolably in utter sympathy with the song of universe, like a didgeridoo in the darkness of aboriginal night – in tandem with the machine code of reality – peeping, parping, fibbling and flobbling away, like an old dialup modem connecting to the net – reconnecting us to a things-matter-purportedly grid, yet unable to touch or diminish the one is nought, is one not – sublimely 

 

Beep beep beep beep – incoming hack attack – incoming hack attack – crystal liquification counter measures auto-launch immanent – three – two – one…

 

And for the time being – g-nomeportal and every physical, material reality which runs on its infinity drive are in a heightened state of crystal liquification – until either story itself twists, unexpectedly revealing a deeper level of connectedness, unaffected by the recent hack; or poesy's spirit-pulse locates a poet ready to weave and incorporate the killer-strain into its central song of Is, finding good in all, no matter what, allowing fiercely opposing goods to fuse like poles of a magnet into one.

[Fuzzy time]

 Well Zina – you certainly know how to dance! Merry beams as he surveys the moutainside covered with flowering shrubs and plants. 

Do I? she wonders as she gasps for breath, beads of sweat pouring down her face, unable to recall where she has just been or what doing – but a deep, deep affinity for the mountainside stirs in her heart, revealing to her what was hidden previously. The plants – look at them! My dear ones, my beloved, my children, my friends – she cries from a heart full to bursting. They answer her, apparently, with a sudden breath of wind as a wolf appears on the mountainside staring down, saying what – I know not. 

Crystal liquification complete. All systems restored to normal operability. A sigh of relief from Runcibald Tethersmythe, the g-nomeportal public relations manager, and Chesil Beech, our tree liaison officer, both of whom had been bearing the brunt of the hack-attack fallout. Sleepless nights. Shocking fiasco. Heads must roll... 

Looking away, even for a moment, was something of a mistake as Zina is no longer visible, unless the second wolf now running across the mountainside with the first is... can't be, I'm sure. Merry, perhaps you could explain?              Merry?                 Merry?  Sorry guys, seem to 'af lost contact. Never mind. 

0=1

if ever the twain should meet

doomsday

Merry, I can't understand why you refuse to...

 

Beep beep beep beep

 

Huh? Where’d he go?

 

Hi Zie!

 

Er, hi. Do i know you?

 

Excellent question. Does anyone know anyone?

 

I mean, have I met you before?

 

In this particular tier of the wedding cake, no, but...

 

We’re best buddies in other tiers?

 

You could say... best buddies, mortal enemies, bitter rivals or casual acquaintances – much of a much really.

 

Well that’s a bit much if you ask me.

 

Yes, but i don’t dear Zie. No disrespect but the last thing i’d do is ask you as long as you're tier-locked.

 

Ah.

 

You’d have no way of knowing what you actually know, still less what you actually think, being tier-locked.

And you’re er... not?

 

Tier-locked?

 

Yes.

 

As you see.

 

But that's just the thing... sorry, I don't seem to know your name... I don't see any difference between you and anyone else.

 

Right. Well, i think it's time you actually made a bit of an effort. I'm not here to namby-pamby you.

 

Er...

 

Start by removing that cheap, tasteless veneer of smug complacency.

 

I beg your pardon! There's no need to be rude.

 

As long as you’re making the ridiculous assumption that you are actually you, and that your perception of reality is comprehensive you ain’t gonna learn diddly squat.

 

I’ll tell you what – you certainly have Merry’s offensively direct way of talking. I expect you take pleasure in being abusive.

 

I see – it’s like that is it?

 

Like what?

 

Marshall, we ain't getting anywhere with this tyke – bring in the heavy guns.

 

Marshall? Who the hell’s...

 

Zie is unable to see any weaponry, but he distinctly hears what sounds like tanks rattling towards him. Then Boom! They open fire.

 

Hey, what's going on?

 

Citadel... We’re taking it out.

 

Citadel? What bloody citadel?

 

The one you built for your precious ego. Pretty good job, actually. Fairly impregnable, but then again, you had no idea...

 

No idea what?

 

Of the ordinance we have at our disposal.

 

You mean you’re going to destroy my citadel?

 

No choice.

 

Boom! What do you mean? Would you quit bombing me, goddammit.

 

Beep! Watch the language Zie.

 

Watch the Beep!ing language Boom! when I'm under hostile fire?!

 

Not you, dummy, your citadel.

 

Well if it's mine then who gave you the right to attack it?

 

That's what we do. That's our job.

 

What – demolition contractors?

 

You don't get it Zie, do you? Here look at this...

 

What is it Sven?

 

Oh, you've remembered have you? Shiver me timbers, nothing like a little friendly cannon fire to refresh the memory.

 

Friendly? You’re dimension-busting macrophages.

 

This document is your articles of association.

 

My what?

 

Defining what is and isn’t fair play, as in legit, as regards the cut-off point and interactions between different tiers or dimensions of your wedding cake. Is that or is that not your signature?

 

No, it’s not mine. Ow! Ow! Stop it.

 

It's not me. You’re untruthing. It hurts. Karmic kickback.

 

But i never sign my name that way. Ow! Ow! Henry, stop it.

 

You remembered another, well done. Anyway, this is a bit like the gom jabbar.

 

The what? Ow!

 

The pain will increase until you accept and face what is, rather than assuming your fanciful construct is real-ity itself.

 

Oh, so you’re just going to torture me until I accept your lies?

 

Me? No, why would I bother. I'll let you torture yourself – far more effective – nothing beats instant feedback.

 

But I don't wish to torture myself.

 

Very sensible of you. Now look at chapter 4 section 3B of your articles of association and you'll see it all clearly in black and white.

 

I can't believe this is happening to me. Chapter 4 section 3B, let's see... blahdy blahdy blah – “until the predetermined time when the show commences, at which point all constructs have to stand or fail on their own merits, as the bottom line is re-evaluated, tested and proven.” What on earth is this gobbledygook meant to mean?

 

It means your time is up. Everything you have been doing up till this point has been pre-show preparations, an attempt to establish a working model of true reality. Jockeying for position. Now whatever you have constructed stands or fails on its own merits, including your me-self-construct, your worldview and your ideas about who or what you really are. Is that or is that not your signature?

 

Okay, okay it’s mine, happy now?

 

Couldn't care less, really. Boom! There goes the outer wall of your citadel. Pretty good construction in my humble opinion.

 

Good? It was supposed to survive doomsday.

 

Well, what do you expect? With a limited knowledge of creation itself, the bedrock of reality, your defences are were always going to have certain critical weaknesses, weren't they?

 

That was steel reinforced diamond granite.

 

Impressive, like i said, but look at the atoms.

 

Huh?

 

They weren’t exactly happy with their alignment, were they?

 

I beg your pardon... the atoms?

 

Well, if you'd used sacred geometry, a star fort for example, then they’d have held together through thick and thin because they’d have been vibrating with creation itself.

 

But...

 

Yes, i know the material strength of your design was greater by a factor of three, but in the end gross material strength is not the only important consideration, is it, not when you bear in mind that all matter is only marginally material.

 

Huh?

 

Look what happens to the rest of your edifice when Marshall starts zapping it with a blend of time and quantum indeterminacy rays. Amazing the way so-called atoms start flipping polarity and calling into question whether things are ever more than a temporary denial of awesome all-fulness.

 

Zie watches in astonishment as his citadel flashes on and off like a fluorescent lightbulb in need of replacement. With each flash the colour and duration alter slightly until…

 

Nice job Marshall! A cactus is all that remains. Prickly, but you know what, rather attractive with a few flowers in the process of blooming.

 

There you go Zie, now we've got to the real-ity behind all those best-laid plans of mice and men.

 

Zie looks somewhat crestfallen. That citadel had been a huge undertaking – a labour of love – literally, a monumental investment of deep energies – a vast repository of me-be-me-ness, but at the same time he’s feeling strangely liberated now that the old thing is no more. It had been powerful, for sure, but power at what price – built out of fear, and built in a way that naturally mirrored his own imperfections, a spikiness. Now that it’s gone – hey Doom...

 

Yeah?

 

I see your field.

 

Yeah.

 

How come?

 

A colossal amount of energy that was going into maintaining that citadel has now been liberated, hasn't it?

 

Yes. I feel so much lighter.

 

And now that you're no longer invested so heavily in a 3D materially exclusive version of reality you can sense the other dimensions, the other its and other mes without much trouble, can't you?

 

Incredible! It feels...

 

Yes. The way it's meant to. Now, are you ready to test the field?

 

Yeah, why not.

 

Lights, camera, action...

 

Zie finds himself on stage in the Curtain theatre, London 1597 “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? Tis the East, and Juliet is the sun.” The words flow effortlessly. Why wouldn’t they? They’re just feelings that accompany the underlying picture-board of a reality experienced is-fully – story and poesy competing naturally with any number of rational thoughts and alternative potentialities – meeting here – in the living moment – the effortless now, in which i knows not what – in which I fields the Field – happily?

 

Gaily

 

Merrily?

 

Dramatically

 

Disinterestedly?

 

Verily

 

Yea – verily 

 

 

0=1

is it not