Poker faced

The story is in the picture so here's an interactive story co-write. Pens at the ready, g-nomers. Marks, set, go!

0=1

explaing things impeccably

 

So g-nomeportal isn’t, primarily, a club for interdimensional movers and shakers.

 

 

Correct.

 

Then what exactly is it – or are you not at liberty to say?

 

I can say anything I like, you know, but the problem is that almost anything I say of any significance will fly either straight past your head, or straight through it, faster than you’re able to comprehend what you’ve just utterly failed to grasp.

 

Bacause you think I’m dumb?

 

Bacause?

 

Because, ok – look who’s the dumb one!

 

Like I said – no one’s accusing you of being dumb.

 

~Then what?

 

Nice wiggle.

 

It’s just another typo.

 

Curios, isn’t it – the nimber of typos we encounter when we start talking about g-nomeportal’s ins and outs.

 

Curious indeed. Do you think we’re being lskaj?

 

Iskaj-ed? No, I expect it’s just pure coincidence, though who knows.

 

So, you can say anything you like, just so long as you don’t start talking about the fundamentals of who or what g-nomeportal is or is not – is that right?

 

Yep. Who or what – interesting – you think there might be a “who” involved?

 

I can’t exclude the possibility, can I?

 

True, but I never really thought of her as a “who”.

 

Her?

 

G-nomeportal. But be she it, he or hey – I was going to say that…

 

Hush – did you hear that?

 

The wolves howling?

 

Those are wolves.

 

No?

 

Wolverines.

 

Wolverines? What the heck are wolverines?

 

Oh – fierce little creatures.

 

That howl?

 

Well no, not exactly.

 

Then – you’ve lost me again.

 

Only at the speed of prose, or thought… g-nomeportal works at a different, higher frequency.

 

It does?

 

Absolutely.

 

And what?

 

It means that whatever I say or write tends to get lost in translation when it’s relayed down to the 3D reality level of things and matter.

 

Ah. So this is basially an insurmountable problem.

 

Basially, yes – which is why you need to activate a different part of your mind if you want to get the actual transmission.

 

A different part of my mind? Which part is thtat?

 

If I said the hypothalamus – it might sound impressive but it wouldn’t be true – not strictly speaking.

 

Then why did you say it?

 

Like I said – there’s no traction. Your mind has been designed to work within the box – only to hear or recognise things that are things – whereas we at g-nome pride ourselves on being poets, on being inspired mystics and seers.

 

Tummy rot.

 

Ok – we pride ourselves on keeping a channel open.

 

Ah – a channel – you say?

 

Yep – a lowly, insignicant little channel which just happens to give anyone with interdimensional feelers…

 

Feelers? Creepy. Makes you sound like a locust.

 

I don’t know why I bother, Travis, you’re blind or deaf to all poetry, I fear.

 

I just know you’re forever trying to inflate your self-importance, Mthdrgnm.

 

Yes, you’ve got a point there. I can’t deny this devilish little foible of mine, but…

 

What?

 

Importance or not – this is not, ultimately, about me.

 

No? You could have fooled me.

 

It’s the message.

 

What flummin message?

 

I’m merely a messenger, on a text steed I ride.

 

Is that so? And perhaps you’re wanted, wanted, dead or alive?

 

You could say.

 

Well, your would be captors

 

Or assassins

 

Or assassins – aren’t doing very well, are they?

 

They’re doing the best they can, Travis – but it’s tricky to catch me if the multi-dimensions I’m referring to are alive and strong in me.

 

I don’t see why.

 

Yes, I know.

 

I mean –

 

Yes, I know.

 

Would you quit interrupting me, and

 

Being so darn condescending?

 

That’s riht.

 

Ok. It’s just you’re making it a little too easy for me, insisting on playing this at face value – as if things are still just things, as if…

 

Hey – what the hecks that?

 

What?

That gimongous opening in the ksy over there?

 

Oh that? I believe it’s the ltter b – written backwards.

 

I beg your pardon?!

 

Or perhaps a z. I do sometimes confuse my letters.

 

You don’t fool me Mthdrgnm, not for a minute.

 

Oh – call me 7 – you’re giving the readers squiffy eyes with that ridiculous rendition of my name.

 

7?

 

7 will do.

 

Er… So, is it true to say that this entire conversation was intended

 

Or designed

 

Who cares – was intended to open that rather outrageous hole in the sky over there which appears to be connecting our reality with – ow – what was that?

 

Whistling innocently…

 

Cut it out 7

 

I was mistaken – 7’s already been taken.

 

Ok – 7a?

 

Also taken.

 

7b?

 

Likewise.

 

Er… 7.2f*gK@W9

 

Will do perfectly.

 

And that’s not going to make the readers squiffy eyed?

 

No, on the contrary.

 

?!

 

It will sing to their benighted souls.

 

I wish you would quit dissing them like that. They’re a good bunch – worhty of your undying respect.

 

Er… chaba ti

 

Chaba ti?

 

Yes – no – I can’t exactly translate it into regular English – but the b/z in the ksy overhead seems to have accepted my declaration and your heart arrhythmia has apparently vanished inexplicably – has it not?

 

It was just a slight chest pain, but yes – the sky’s looking a bit less weird – I’ll hand that to you.

 

So all’s well that ends well.

 

But we haven’t even cleared 100o words.

 

I kennow. Tis nine matter.

 

Nine matter… I hate to think what this is doing to the ggooggly algorhyhms

 

Oh – just introudcing a much needed salmon of doubt

 

Duggie A – eat your heart out.

 

And allow the possibility – unspoken, fo course, unstated and undeclared

 

Neeldess repetition.

 

Enough to bing r elements of songs unsung, words unspoken, thoughts

 

Unthought?

 

Addaboy – just succifent to allow nature to work her magick and weave a new version of…

 

939

 

940

 

Alsways one word behind – but fast approaching our maximum.

 

By the way – how did you fix my arrhythmia?

 

By the by – as they say – and none the wiser were.

 

No story, no punchline – no substance

 

Sadly not. A tlae

 

Tale – show more care.

 

0=1

 

No, I refuse to go quietly into the night

give me anoher page I999------

Tiffle and Speck

 

So have you actually seen any of these gnomiki, James?

 

Of course, I see them all the time.

 

In flowers? – asked Alyona.

 

In flowers, yes, trees, with small children… Actually, there’s one, no, two of them right beside you now.

 

Alyona gave a start.

 

Next to me? Where – I can’t say anything.

 

That’s not surprising.

 

Why’s that?

 

Because you need to know how. It’s like reading, isn’t it. When you were little you could look at a page in a book but it was meaningless – you weren’t able to read. It’s the same with gnomiki.

 

But they’re real creatures if I understand you rightly, not symbols or letters that I need to learn.

 

Yes, they’re real creatures all right – but you can’t see them the normal way.

 

Whyever not?

 

Because you’re using the wrong eyes.

 

The wrong eyes?

 

Or the right eyes but the wrong part of your brain.

 

But I can see everything else, so why not gnomiki?

 

Everything else?! You’re joking, Alyona, aren’t you?

 

No, why do you say that?

 

Because you can only see things in what I call the cube.

 

Huh?

 

The cube is where all regular things are arranged in a particular order – a bit like alphabetical or chronological order.

 

But I can see everything there is to see – unless it’s too small or too far away.

 

No, Alyona, my dear. You only see what you know how to see. In this case you only see things that are divisible by one, though sometimes you can feel other things.

 

Divisible by one? Everything’s divisible by one, isn’t it.

 

You’re right – everything you can see is divisible by one – and anything else that isn’t you can’t. Capiche?

 

Er… I think you’re pulling my leg.

 

I could be, but the thing is Alyona, what if I’m not.

 

Huh?

 

What if I’m actually telling the truth?

 

Fat chance of that.

 

What if there are millions of things that you’ve never learnt to see, either because you didn’t know, or perhaps because you were too lazy.

 

Hey – I’m not lazy. Don’t be mean.

 

Ok – then let’s see if you can spot Tiffle and Speck.

 

Tiffle and Speck?

 

The gnomiki that are with you right now.

 

But there’s no one here.

 

You see – you just said no “one” and I already told you there are other creatures or things which are perfectly real, it’s just they’re not divisible by one.

 

Then what am I supposed to do?

 

Well, first of all, try being a little less sure that you have all the answers. Try and question your assumption that you’re fully aware of who or what is in your vicinity.

 

Ok. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt – though I’m sure you’re winding me up.

 

There you go again – doubting everything. Still, I can’t blame you – I was the same.

 

You were?

 

Yes, in my past life.

 

Your what?!

 

When I used to live in England.

 

Oh, that past life.

 

Precisely.

 

Ok – I’m not going to be a spoilsport. I really do accept there might be things, or even creatures, nearby which I can’t see.

 

Like angels?

 

Yes, like angels.

 

Or demons.

 

Yikes – let’s not think about that.

 

Ok.

 

But I still can’t see anything more than I did a moment ago.

 

Impatient, aren’t you?

 

Yes, a little bit, but really – what do you expect?

 

Ok – now your eyes have become a little softer, a little more receptive, but still that isn’t enough.

 

What more is needed?

 

You need to condescend, to make contact. To come down from your pedestal and talk to ‘em.

 

Now you’re really having me on.

 

No, not at all.

 

What am I supposed to do – talk to the air?

 

Not the air – you need to talk to them. I even told you their names.

 

So you did – but how did you get their names?

 

Oh, that’s easy – the same way they got mine.

 

Well?

 

As soon as you can see gnomiki you can hear them and likewise, they can hear you.

 

But why couldn’t I hear them if they were talking to you?

 

Because you weren’t seeing them. Isn’t it obvious?

 

Er… Not sure I understand.

 

Well, seeing them you’ve activated a different part of your brain – and that part of the brain is rather special.

 

Yes? In what way?

 

It can see creatures or things not divisible by one, outside the cube.

 

Not divisible by one... But divisible by what?

 

By nought.

 

By what?

 

By nought.

 

But nothing is divisible by nought.

 

Correct. Nothing in the cube is divisible by nought.

 

No, James, not just inside the cube – it’s mathematically impossible. Nothing whatsoever is divisible by nought.

 

Funny that.

 

Funny?

 

Yes, very funny.

 

What?

 

I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to be so dogmatic.

 

Dogmatic? Me?

 

That you would agree to suspend your disbelief – to play along in order to see if you could see ‘em.

 

I did – but playing along is one thing, while suspending my reason and swallowing crazy mathematics is another thing entirely.

 

Ah – but there’s nothing crazy about my mathematics.

 

James – trust me – we can go to the Russian academy of sciences and ask them if there are any numbers divisible by nought and you know perfectly well what the answer will be.

 

Yes, Alyona, I know what the answer will be – but only if the mathematician is able to switch on the part of his brain which is able to see gnomiki. As soon as he does that he’ll accept that he’s now able to see things that are not divisible by one – which are divisible by nought – but it won’t seem so strange to him.

 

No? Why not?

 

Because seeing is believing. Once he’s able to see gnomiki, and hear ‘em too – he’ll no longer think as most people do, that nought is just nought.

 

Oh.

 

Precisely. “Oh!” He’ll realise that nought is the zero point through which we access Oh – the other side of our mind – the side of our mind that can take us into Narnia, or anywhere else we might need to go.

 

So…

 

Yes.

 

But I didn’t say anything.

 

I know – but in Oh – on the other side of your mind – you did – you were already thinking along the right lines.

 

Was I? What are the right lines?

 

Now you’re trying too hard to understand – to get back into your comfortable cube.

 

You mean to say we climb out of the cube without even being aware of it?

 

Yes, all the time.

 

When?

 

When you’re happy and humming a song like Winnie the Pooh does, or suddenly have a daydream, or remember someone out of the blue, or when you see something like just now.

 

Huh? What did I see just now? I didn’t see a thing.

 

Yes, you did.

 

Did I? What?

 

You saw Tiffle and Speck.

 

What?! You must be mistaken.

 

Impossible. You looked straight at them and for a second you connected with them.

 

But I’d know if I saw them. I’d remember.

 

Not yet, you wouldn’t.

 

Why not?

 

Because you immediately forget what just happened, the same way people often forget a dream or anything outside the cube that they experience in daily life.

 

So I saw them, you’re saying – but I’m still none the wiser?

 

Correct – except you’ve made a step forward because they gave you a gift and you accepted it.

 

What?!!! Are you serious?

 

Yep.

 

But I don’t have a gift. There’s nothing here.

 

Correct. Nothing. But that is merely because it isn’t divisible by one.

 

Oh come on, James, don’t be ridiculous. If a gift is divisible by nought then it’s nothing at all.

 

Absolutely, until you allow yourself to see it.

 

And what? It’ll still be nothing.

 

Really? You’re very sure of yourself, young lady, are you not?

 

I…

 

I thought we agreed to suspend judgement for a minute or two. After all, Tiffle and Speck were kind enough to give you a wonderful gift. It’s the very least you could do.

 

Oh, I apologise Tiffle. And Speck, I apologise. Do excuse me for being so thoughtless.

 

Think nothing of it.

 

Think nothing of it, at all.

 

Did you say something, James?

 

Nothing whatsoever – James looks surprised.

 

Just I thought I heard… I must be imagining things.

 

Imagining things? Poppycock.

 

Imagining things? What a lark.

 

A lark? Well, I suppose it might be a lark, as long as it didn’t go too far.

 

Or get out of hand.

 

Precisely. There’s no knowing what might happen.

 

But on the other hand…

 

On the other hand – yes – I see what you mean.

 

Do you?

 

Does she?

 

Yes, nothing ventured, nothing gained – Alyona sighs, wistfully, as she realizes how much has been blocked and curtailed.

 

I beg your pardon, Alyona? Is everything alright?

 

Oh, yes, I suppose so. But about that gift…

 

Take it if you want it.

 

James said I already did.

 

Of course you did – but you don’t remember, do you?

 

No, I don’t seem to remember. I remember nothing at all though, wait a minute, I can remember a tinkling bell, which is strange, or was that a tickly feeling somewhere at the back of my mind which I then mistook for a bell?

 

In fact, you don’t even remember seeing me, Alyona…

 

Or me, Alyona, do you?

 

No… You know I feel terribly bad about it. It seems dreadfully rude not to remember seeing someone I’ve just seen.

 

Someone?

 

I mean two of you, of course. Excuse me, Tiffle, if you will.

 

I might do. If you’d have the courtesy to open your eyes.

 

But my eyes – I thought they were open already.

 

You thought?

 

She thought? Honestly, thinking things is rather problematic at times, is it not?

 

Yes Speck, you’re right.

 

On the count of three then… One

 

Two

 

Three.

 

Alyona’s eyes suddenly open in a way they never have before – like a door in the other side of her mind.

 

There, that wasn’t so bad.

There, that wasn’t so bad  – in unison – was it?

 

Not at all. Not at all. I can see you both though truth be told –

 

You were seeing us all along

 

Without realizing it, weren’t you?

 

Feeding it all to the voracious cube.

 

Making the cube master of all.

 

Tinkle tinkle – a bell rings at the back of her mind and Alyona sees the gift she’s been holding all this time.

 

Oh wow! Thank you Tiffle, thank you Speck – what a wonderful pair of slippers.

 

You’re welcome Alyona. They’re for dancing.

 

Dancing? But I don’t really dance. I mean – they’re very nice. I love them.

 

Why don’t you try them on?

 

Oh – yes, I think I will – she does – oh, they fit perfectly!

 

They should do. We made them specially.

 

But how do you know my size?

 

How do we know?

How do we know?

 

Oh – silly question, really. Yes. Funny how I’m still thinking that way even though I can see you both.

 

Funny.

Funny, isn’t it?

 

Why don’t you try them out?

Take them for a whirl?

 

You mean have a dance?

 

Yes.

Yes.

 

I’d love to, but…

 

You’d love to?

 

What’s stopping you?

 

Alyona was going to say “there’s no music” but realizes she doesn’t need to.

 

The music is waiting for you

 

but you need to take the initiative, do you not?

 

Oh, I see.

 

Alyona starts dancing – or perhaps the slippers start dancing and she allows them to lead her feet – and no sooner does she start than the music fills her soul with light and something indescribable – something unforgettable – something which normally, in the cube, would be nothing at all, more’s the pity, something complete and o’erflowing.

 

I say, Alyona.

 

Oh, there you are James. I must have… she was about to say fallen asleep – but something pops in her head and she knows that would be completely untrue – remembering everything that just happened outside the cube with a squeal of delight.

 

I danced. It was wonderful. Tiffle and Speck gave me the most amazing slippers. I never knew it was possible to dance like that.

 

You’re welcome Alyona.

Alyona, you’re welcome.

 

And for a noughtieth of a second both sides are brought together – and the rational mind realizes that things are merely things, and nothing will ever be the same again, thankfully.

 

 

0=1

the endieth end

or so it would seem

if things were so

introducing Hefflecrick Sallyjane

 

The infinity drive

 

I appreciate the fact that a lot of you have been clamouring to learn more about the infinity drive. Yes, I have heard your pleas and no, there's not an ounce of pity in me. Many of you have long since despaired of ever hearing anything substantive or meaningful about the drive. Yes, I’m painfully aware that “substantive” and “meaningful” appear to be saying the same thing. Does that make me a tautologist, and could you ever trust any thing said by such a one? In desperation you might, if you are indeed desperate, but I like to imagine you're not – that unbeknownst even to yourselves you have secretly, over the years, been figuring out what this coyly elusive infinity drive actually is and, more to the point, how to operate it.

 

The thing about the infinity drive, like a quantum computer, is that it can’t be a “thing” as such. Simple logic, is it not?

 

Er... I’m not sure I follow the logic.

 

Correct, because I'm not using the logic of things, am I?

 

There's another logic, is there?

 

Well, there has to be, after all, we’re not exactly things, are we, bodies notwithstanding.

 

So, which logic are you using?

 

The logic of life itself. Biologic.

 

And this “biologic” of yours differs in some way from common or garden logic?

 

I’d say. But let's not get sidetracked discussing logic types. We were enquiring into why the infinity drive can’t be a thing as such.

 

Yes, I suppose we were, which is not exactly what I wanted to hear. And you mentioned quantum computers too.

 

Yes, that's right. Basically, one and the same thing.

 

Really?

 

Would I lie to you?

 

I suppose not. So, quit beating about the bush. What have you got against things?

 

Nothing whatsoever. Things are a great way to exclude infinity, or the quantum Field.

 

 

And you're back to being a tautologist, I suspect?

 

Absolutely.

 

So, if things are out of the question, what’s the alternative?

 

I thought you'd never ask.

 

Actually you were supposed to be giving a kind of lecture, so on with it. I’m not here.

 

So I was, so I am. You see, ladies and gentlemen, you already have all the technology you need in the form of a body, a mind and consciousness. Somehow or other they straddle, literally, the unthingable gulf, which is rather remarkable, is it not?

 

Some of you fail to recognise the magnitude of the achievement, after all, a given is given, is it not?

Stubborn silence from our end of the hall. Hefflecrick Sallyjane looks somewhat surprised that none of us have made utterances either for or against, so is obliged to continue unprompted.

 

After all, the unthingable gulf, while neither big nor small empirically is nonetheless the fissure opening into the here-be-dragons of infinity, which has always been unbridgeable to anything that isn't alive.

 

You mean life can be defined as “that which can and does span the unthingable gulf?”

 

Hefflecrick Sallyjane looks censoriously down his bespectacled nose at Esther Chissomblood, who simply couldn't remain silent in the face of such a revelation, though everyone present understands that he’s, in fact, delighted by the outburst.

 

It is not the purpose of our lecture today to define who or what life is, or is not, for that matter, but the fact that only life forms can connect the unconnectable indicates that they somehow carry the thinglessness of infinity in their makeup, and the wherewithal to harness its limitless potential.

Oohs and ahs from the remarkably sober audience. Esther Chissomblood looks daggers at Hefflecrick Sallyjane, who appears to be oblivious to her all too obvious ire.

 

So things are a non-starter.  Only by working directly through the architecture of our self, including the body itself which, while undeniably physical, is still able to keep time, tune or rhyme with the essentially unknowable um, can we...

 

In other words, we are the infinity drive!

 

Hefflecrick Sallyjane looks like a comedian who’s just had his punchline stolen, or no, is he playing to the audience once again? Me thinks he is aware of every interruption before it happens. In this instance Jemima Tabbyturn herself, in a tartan tweed with liquid, soulful eyes spins him on an emotional dime eliciting...

 

Jemima Tabbyturn – always a pleasure to hear your views, and I suspect there may be a lot of truth in what you just said, but no, we are nothing of the sort.

 

A moment of crisis as the audience hums and hars in consternation.

 

And yet... and yet you’re not so very far from the mark, Jemima, close indeed though a miss is as good as a mile, is it not?

 

Uproar in the auditorium as the quantum philosophical society members consider the soup of contradictions and confusion being ladled out to them.

 

Good, you’re now more or less ready to join me in the infinity drive.

 

A sudden collective intake of breath.

 

All talk and no play makes Jack a very dull chap. So let’s go. Let's activate our collective i.d. Do as I do, as I do and how i do, ok?

 

Ok, in unison.

 

 I’m particularly relying on you Esther Chissomblood, contrary to what you might have assumed. Infinity drive is not possible without a good emotional range extending from pole to pole, so the negative we so dislike in 3D reality and try our best to avoid is actually a vital and necessary anchor point. In fact, it’s just like a magnet – you can't have a positive without a negative pole, can you?

 

It dawns slowly.

 

And we are what unites the two. Here goes.

 

Hefflecrick Sallyjane starts syncopated clapping and the audience matches him. Something is happening to their breathing as they clap together, and their heart beats too start to sync. There's a kind of whirring noise which is actually a sort of smell, or a sensation closer to that of smell, and a curious sensation of bubbles, of being bubbles, or being in bubbles, a feeling of being both smaller and smaller towards infinity while at the same time bigger and bigger, expanding towards infinity, paradoxically. It would be too much to handle, as you can imagine, but another part of self, a huge spectrum connecting all the emotions has opened up, has unfurled and is now fully extended. It seems to be able to handle what the mind cannot. It's comfortable with skull sizzling paradox.

 

Yes, you can stop clapping now, says Hefflecrick Sallyjane, wiping the copious perspiration from his face. That wasn't so bad, was it?

 

The audience is nonplussed. Something has happened. Something rather dramatic.

 

No, you aren’t able to speak as yet. Let this be no cause for concern dear friends. No one is here against their will. Anyone who feels trapped will simply exit in the same way you exit an unwelcome dream. So, without further ado, may i proudly present Ida – every infinity drive ought to have a name. She's sleek and beautiful as you can see.

 

This is where things get kind of weird because, on the one hand each of those present are part of the infinity drive now known as Ida, but on the other hand they're able to view her as if from the side, as if an alternative perspective exists, which undeniably it does. In a normal state this would induce cerebral freak out or catalepsy, but strangely enough, with the emotional bridge fully extended and locked in place across the unthingable gulf, this merely induces a pleasant tremor of infinite awareness and deep, deep acceptance of what is.

 

Ok guys, I guess we’d better take her for a spin. First of all I want to solve Pi, on the count of three. 1, 2, 3...

 

Ida is airborne and seems to be flying through space or around the universe at the speed of Um. In the background the Ida crew are aware of syncopated clapping going through impossible sequences of rhythmic perfection.

 

Ida seems to have come to a standstill alongside a...

 

Pi! There you are! It's been a while!

 

Hefflecrick Sallyjane and Pi greet one another like old friends which is hardly surprising as that is precisely what they are. Somewhere in an infinitely distant galaxy, give or take a parsec or two, sit a bunch of thingers habitually thinking, who would give anything to know who exactly Pi is, and how Hefflecrick Sallyjane happens to be an old buddy. But infinity doesn’t care. Dorothy takes it all in her stride and our clappers feel the emotional bridge connecting the two sides humming, rippling, doing whatever it takes to keep the two “sides” of infinity alive to each other.

 

Alive to each other? You mean they're only actually alive if the bridge is maintained?

 

Good question Tina Mineheart. I cannot say, and why aren't you clapping?

 

Tina looks terribly guilty and once again joins the chorus, clapping for all she’s worth, but of course her question was precisely what needed to be thought to keep things in place, was it not? And supposing we could feel the two sides of who or what we are, just supposing, would one side take over? Would the bridge collapse? Would the world vanish in a puff of smoke? Or would life itself re-establish the bridge across infinity before anything untoward happens? Life itself... bold words, brave terms, as if these little quivers of sound and breath have a velcro underside and somehow stick, somehow hold their own, can mean something more than just sound or breath, but we know better, do we not?

 

Pi, how's it going old chap?

 

Hefflecrick my old buddy, top of the world, top of the world. My oh my, very impressive, where did you get that one from? Stole it, I expect, you old rogue.

 

Stole it?! You don’t...

 

But Pi is too busy looking over Hefflecrick’s sleek, shimmering craft to be paying attention to Hefflecrick’s answer, and our camera and microphone are highly selective – have to be, always following the story line or the flower of meaning through the barren wasteland of absolute relativism, the energetic interface between zero and one.

 

Earth? You’ve been playing around with Earthlings again, if I am not mistaken. This baby possibly reeks of their deliciously naïve but incredibly powerful self-y-ness.

 

Well, I am ever impressed by your ability to discern…

 

But what are you going to do with this gem, Hefflecrock? Surely not the same again – your ridiculous attempt to square the circle – to trap me within a cartesian dataset didn’t go too well last time.

 

The master has his own views on the subject.

 

The master – you’ve been watching too many James Bond movies Hufflecreak. You should get out more into nature. I can’t deny you’re a formidable hand at designing inter-dimensional craft – but when are you going to learn the limitations of math.

 

I didn’t hear that, Pi. You of all people – how could you possibly utter such blasphemy? Numbers can describe and match anything under the sun.

 

Yes. They can – but poetry, dear man, poetry – My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk – you can’t write it with numbers or reduce it to decimal places, even if you have my limitless resources. Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time – it positively reeks of the fire smoke of infinity, does it not?

So even if you manage to cage me in a square, for once and for all, even if you manage to out-compute infinity itself – what of that? A single line of poetry – or a single thought – infinity will always triumph, will always re-establish life where you have managed to reduce it to subserviency – the kind of life that makes God himself weep – the kind of life that squeezes blood out of the stone a million years baking in the desert sun – and suddenly meaning flows, suddenly attention sprouts unannounced from the barren field not quite, not yet conscious-ness.

 

You have me all wrong, Pi, old chap. I have no intention of limiting creativity or freedom of expression. I was never, in fact, serious about trapping you – I merely wanted to see if I could harness your data, for purely scientific ends – after all – eventually we have to figure out how to convert all matter, all things back into digits – and without a doubt the entire universe of things can be slotted into your squirly train of…

 

While Hefflecrick Sallyjane speaks the syncopated clapping of our infinity drive goes through wave upon wave of rhythmic variation until it finally hones in on Pi’s heartbeat – his mind pulse – his isness of be. Pi is seen to slow down and rotate through different forms – mythical beasts – eventually ending as a sycamore tree.

 

Excellent – we have him – the old windbag. Well done everyone. Well done.

 

All the men and women of the auditorium – of the infinity drive – find themselves standing in a great circle hand in hand around Pi – a single sycamore tree – feeling the connection – feeling the unity pulsing through them – feeling how the entire universe has focussed all its attention here on this moment – this standoff – this encounter. The rest of life – the rest of the universe holds its breath – as it were – and doing so – vacates the one of material expression and hovers in the nought of nothing much – betwixt, between.

 

We have been here before, have we not?

 

We have been here before – we all answer.

 

Pi, for his part, is content to be silent and still – though a slight breeze appears to ruffle his leaves – ever so lightly.

 

Pi, dear friend – it is time to release the bondage of the sycamore – it is time for your to give us a new metre – our poems have grown tired and stale.

 

Ah – we find ourselves chanting Keats again –

 

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
    Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
    Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone…

 

Now the sycamore tree is being animated by a powerful breeze blowing through its boughs. Fauns and elves are seen to dance with its inner rings.

 

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
    Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare…

 

On we chant – as on writes our poet, even now in our very presence – even as we animate his words, bringing them to their intended fruition, releasing the spirit of life – the life John Keats willingly sacrificed – willingly embedded in these – in his immortal words.

 

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
    Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu…

 

By now the tree is dancing and leaping beyond all bounds of what is conceivably possible – and were we not connected, hand in hand – a circle that is also a bridge across the unthingable gulf – we would be sorely afeared, sorely beset by the impossibility of what we are witnessing – as sense and meaning break the levees and flow freely beyond the bounds of form and reason – as the infinite raises a storm that cannot be contained…

 

But still we chant undaunted – feeling the bridge electrified and pulsing beyond the description of words:

…When old age shall this generation waste,
        Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
    “Beauty is truth, truth beauty”—that is all
        Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

 

The storm has passed. The sycamore is no more. Pi is seen to be flowing from the extremities of nought and one into a sturdy hawthorn tree – blossoming even as we look on. The numbers are unchanged – 3 is still three, point one still .1, four is still four – but the shape, the quality of these numbers – how they are derived – how they originate from the boundless wastes of infinity – you see – no circle will ever be the same again – nor for that matter will any vertices or feet… and a new metre emerges from the hawthorn even as Pi himself steps out, coyly, admiring the transformation –

 

We know their dream; enough

To know they dreamed and are dead; 

And what if excess of love   

Bewildered them till they died?   

I write it out in a verse—

MacDonagh and MacBride   

And Connolly and Pearse

Now and in time to be,

Wherever green is worn,

Are changed, changed utterly:   

A terrible beauty is born.

 

 

Chastened – sobered – we return with Hefflecrick Sallyjane to our lecture hall, and then to our homes – with eyes that see how our world is even now shifting into a new rhythm, seeing it in the angles of houses, leafy edges, even in the clouds and curlitude of breath – how no thing will ever again be as it was – how nought has met and changed with one, how one is now free to explore the infinite once more…

 

 

0=1

anatomically