over my dead body, no pun intended

 

The story so far…

Everything exists the way it does – literally everything, including all of history too – as long as I plug the dike with my proverbial thumb.

Er… eM.

Not now Zanussi – I’m busy, can’t you see?

 

Sorry bro – it’s just I happen to be downstream of you, and so I’m stuck with hearing all your output.

 

That’s easily enough fixed. eM pulls out a Smith & Wesson 2.0 and fire three slugs into Zanzi-bar.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, my proverbial thumb.

 

Zanussi – dead as a doornail – still manages to interject – Absolute codswallop!

 

Oh bravo, Zanzi-mort – I admire your plucky persistence.

 

Well, I’d admire your restraint if, instead of shooting me dead you’d found a gentler way to continue whatever you were doing.

 

Yes, Zanzi-bar, gentler is infinitely preferable to violent means but this is an argument I was not willing to commit to. If I’m wrong – if I is not the one or thing plugging the dike and holding everything in place – then I will have sadly lost a friend and sparring partner. If, on the other hand, I is correct – then you’re only as dead as the dike is plugged. As soon as I withdraw my consent and extract myself from the relationship with everything in existence – then…

 

Then what?

 

Wait a minute, won’t you.

 

Er… as a dead body that happens to be able to communicate through our scriptwriter – I can wait a minute or more.

 

Never any peace when you need it.

 

Actually, I’m feeling remarkably peaceful here in dead-y-ness.

 

Ok – scriptwriter – I is now suspending the arrangement with this particular version of everything in existence – so kindly – great – that was easier done than said.

 

The scriptwriter wipes the board clean – so to speak – and none of the above has now happened. Anyone who read it has also had their mind wiped, miraculously, and is/are thus unable to remember that Zanzi-bang just got unceremoniously shot. If you’re having flashbacks or nightmares – please contact our helpline and we’ll be happy to rewipe your mind.

 

Basically, we’re all part of the set up until we realise that it has to tap into and ultimately be part of our conscious-ness. Once that is realized, felt, taken on board – the entire matrix comes crashing down.

 

Fat chance that’s ever going to happen to me.

 

Oh, you’re back Zanussi.

 

Back? What do you mean?

 

Oh nothing really.

 

Nothing?

 

Really.

 

I know you think I was born yesterday eM, but the word “really” won’t wash.

 

No. You know perfectly well that things are really things, really the way they are, really real only as long as they are.

 

Goodness. Am I supposed to understand what you’re on about?

 

Only as long as you’re sticking your finger in the dike and holding reality in place.

 

Oh that…

 

Whereas, you yourself have already stated on more than one occasion…

 

Have I?

 

That reality is not in fact fixed or monolithic.

 

Speaking metaphorically of course.

 

Then what, dear eM, if you don’t mind me asking, is this?

 

This? What?

 

Yes eM! Damn you, you bloody eel trying to slip away from responsibility for your actions.

 

Eh… it looks like a Smith & Wesson.

 

Looks like?!

 

Ok Zanzi-bar – it is. Happy now?

 

And what are these?

 

Choking on his coffee.

 

Those? Er… Can’t think where you got them from Zanz-y-gun. They look remarkably like three bullets.

 

Yes eM, but which three bullets? Think carefully. A lot depends on this your answer.

 

Oh – that – those three bullets.

 

Well?

 

Bit awkward really.

 

Is that so?

 

Well, dreadfully awkward in fact.

 

How so?

 

Well, apparently I shot you in another version of reality.

 

Really? I can’t imagine why?

 

Oh, you were… it was a dreadful decision to make but it had to be done.

 

Is that so?

 

Well, not exactly. I’m exaggerating ever so slightly.

 

The truth is eM – eM winces – the truth is that you just shot me for nothing – to prove a point.

 

Well, er, there is that, yes, I suppose so – but taking it out of context makes it sound a lot worse than it actually was.

 

Really?

 

Really. Honest injun. I’d never have shot you if it hadn’t been imperative to shut down that particular reality.

 

Really?

 

Yes. And as you know – the best way to do so is over a dead body.

 

Over my dead body.

 

Precisely.

 

I meant “over my dead body!”

 

 

Well yes, I see your point, but there’s really nothing I can do now, is there?

 

You can recant.

 

Recant? Really, em? It’s not, you know, not really my style to recant, is it?

 

True. eM winces again.

 

Don’t like that word, do you?

 

What word?

 

That word, eM – true. Winces again.

 

Would you quit doing that.

 

Doing what?

 

Saying that word.

 

Which word?

 

You know perfectly well. Enough.

 

Or what?

 

Or else.

 

Or you’ll shoot me – is that it?

 

No, Zanzi-ire. I never shoot people in anger, nor to score points or eliminate obstacles.

 

Then what?

 

I only shot you if that particular reality continued to matter.

 

Well, who says it didn’t or doesn’t?

 

You’re here, aren’t you – and none the worse for wear – so the proof, as you can see, is in the pudding.

 

But I object to your cavalier methods eM. I was enjoying that particular reality, and I don’t see why you should have just terminated it without so much as a please or polite request.

 

You evidently don’t understand the nature of…

 

No eM – you don’t understand! Loading the three rounds into the Smith & Wesson and firing them off in rapid succession, straight at eM’s heart.

 

Oh I say! Stop, Zanzi-dang – it tickles.

Tickles?! I just shot you.

 

Not really.

 

What do you mean “not really?”

 

Well, I’m only nominally part of this reality – which is why you object to me saying the word “really”, as you rightly realized that it’s not worth the breath it’s spoken with.

 

So I can’t kill you?

 

No more than I can kill you.

 

But you did, eM. I went all the way back to zero without passing Go, collecting no cash.

 

I prefer the image of Snakes and Ladders to yours of Monopoly.

 

So I got snaked but you’re protected, are you?

 

No, I’m not, but I is.

 

Eh?

 

As long as you’re operating the I am me version of self then you can get taken out and reset, but if you’re using the I is, then you basically have diplomatic immunity.

 

And how does one acquire this coveted I is immunity?

 

You simply have to earn it.

 

Earn it? How?

 

The same way you earn anything – hard work and commitment.

 

Give me a break eM, you’ve never done a hard day’s work in your life.

 

True, but in an other life, while I was still figuring things out – I was no different to you.

 

So I’ve got to crash the matrix, have I?

 

Haven’t you already?

 

Apparently not – not if I’m unable to kill you.

 

Ah… but supposing I were just a more complete version of you – a next level Zanzi-bar – I’d always appear to be invincible, wouldn’t i?

 

Er… perish the thought.

 

I agree – but still – if I were a next level version of you – the system would not allow you to take me out – would it – in the same way you’re not allowed to meet versions of yourself existing in the past or future.

 

Oh – but you can’t possibly be a next level version of me – you don’t look or sound like me in the least.

 

Thank God – but stop focusing on what I am or what I’m not. If you actually want to get anywhere – you have to allow the I is to take over.

 

Well, there’s  no way I can do that, as I haven’t the faintest clue what this “I is” might be referring to.

 

Ok. In that case – allow me to remove myself from the equation. Will you?

 

For good?

 

Well, it is a possibility, but just for a moment or two at present will suffice.

 

And what?

 

And you can see, or feel for yourself the difference.

 

If you think it’ll help… go ahead. Remove thyself, foul miscreant!

 

eM vanishes instantly and suddenly there’s a sucking sound – like the life is being sucked out of everyone and every thing.

 

Yikes – this is… this is…

 

Zanz-y starts shaking uncontrollably, as if the sun has stopped warming him. Colours are fading. Reality seems to be turning into a ghostly dreamscape of as-it-were-ness. Zanz-y finds it harder and harder to breath and slumps down on his haunches. The idea that his entire reality could be dependent on one person, one place holder, is beyond ridiculous, and yet there’s no denying the punctured state of his life’s bubble. Zanzi-bar’s hands go limp and the Smith & Wesson he was still holding falls to the ground with a clatter.

 

Wait a minute – there has to be some way I can stop this from happening… I am clearly dying, that’s undeniable, the same way I died in another frame of things, another reality when eM shot me…

 

Feelings of impotent rage temporarily halt the suffocating sense of dissolution – but even rage starts to dissipate. One part of Zan feels intensely sorry for himself – how unfair all this is – and how he’s unable to do anything to halt his immanent death. Another part…

Wait a second – who the hell’s that – or what is that? As his eyes go fuzzy Zanzi-beat feels another part of I – a part which is looking on impassively, unimpressed, unbothered by the drama.

 

The I is! Zanz-i finds himself saying. The I is – that’s what eM was talking about. Damn it!

 

Beep!

 

A bit late for beeping, Beep – I’m just about finished, aren’t i?

 

That you are.

 

If only I could figure out how to I is.

 

If indeed – only you can.

 

I is – I is – I is... Zanzibar or any other name I choose to call meself.

 

Ah – thought you’d never…

 

Beep?! Are you my I is?

 

Nay, Zanzi-is. It looks like you’ve finally decided to quit insisting you are only, can only be in terms of one particular reality. It looks like you’ve accepted your I is more than you can possibly fathom, more than you can possibly know in any one plain of existence – which opens the door to something else – does it not?

 

I… oh my God!

 

It’s rather astonishing, is it not?

 

Oh my God. I is immense – isn’t it?

 

Hey – who are you calling it?

 

Isn’t I? Immense! Worlds and worlds.

 

Plains and plains.

 

Realms and realms.

 

Now you see.

 

A sea change. And in each realm – an I pops up the minute I shift my attention thither.

 

Or hither.

 

But what of the I am?

 

What indeed?

 

What happens to the I that was dying a minute ago without eM holding things in place?

 

Well? You tell me.

 

And what of eM? How do I get him back?

 

You tell me.

 

And why do you keep repeating yourself?

 

You tell m…

 

eM!

 

Huh?

 

eM – you can hide as long as you like but I still haven’t finished with my feeble, absurd 3d-ness. It’s still the best place for me to experience my folly and face my incompleteness. It’s the ideal training ground. So, I is just going to hold my nose and pop mine ears and squeeze mine-self back down into my regular, jaggedy, bumpy ol’ me.

 

Focussing his attention on regular Zanzi-me seems to work a treat. It’s a bit like Dorothy clicking the heels of her ruby slippers together thrice, and muttering “there’s no place like home”. Zanzi-dot spots eM hiding in the grass – apparently no bigger than an acorn. The thought is so fascinating that he literally tumbles, nose first, to the spot where eM is concealed behind one of the spent bullets.

 

That’s not fair – eM. You can’t shrink down like that. When you’re playing hide and seek you have to stick to being a regular human size.

 

Who says?

 

Well, otherwise you’re giving yourself an unfair advantage.

 

You may be right, Zanzi-doubt, you may be right. But if I were the size of a bullet how could I jump over a tree?

 

Zanzi-brow feels a lurching sensation as eM appears to leap up to full stature and fly straight over a tree, landing on the other side, hidden from view. Zanzi groans and rolls over, utterly dazed – to see himself likewise clearing the tree – as if drawn by elastic bands.

 

Well done, Zanzi-bro. Excellent work. A little kitsch using Dorothy’s ruby slippers to get back, if you don’t mind me saying.

 

Feeling suddenly embarrassed Zanussi looks down to see whether he’s actually wearing her slippers, and too his great distress, eM is again airborne, with another lurching sensation in his stomach, and once more Zanzi-non is yanked back to where the tale began – to where eM was pointing a gun at him and about to fire.

 

But now, the déjà vu sensation is off the Richter scale – Zanzi-neo finds himself watching three bullets flying towards him in slow and slowing motion – until they seem to pause a few inches from his chest. He raises his eyebrows in mild surprise and touches one of the bullets with the tip of his finger, watching it lose its focus and drop to the ground with the other two, as that moment, that frame of reality succumbs to…

 

Disbelief?

 

You could say.

 

Could?

 

You could say many things, Zanzi-tude, but would they help you clarify the simple fact, the simple truth?

 

Which is?

 

Which is.

 

You mean I was never actually killed, eM?

 

Did you jump over the tree? Did you experience the same bullets twice?

 

I…

 

Yes?

 

I cannot say.

 

Correct. But you can live to tell another tale.

 

 

 

0=1

₂₃₀₀

 

a heath robinson contraption

 

Oh, eM, what on earth are you doing?

 

Can’t you see?

 

How did I know you’d answer my question with a question?

 

You’re a smart learner.

 

So you say, yet me thinks this is but cheap flattery on your part.

 

Hm…

 

But this thing you’re making eM…

Yes.

 

I don’t think it’s going to fly to the moon.

 

No? I wouldn’t be so sure.

 

It’s all just cardboard tubes and sticky tape.

 

Wait a minute – take a closer look Zanzi-far.

 

Er… Ok, some plastic tubing too. And some flimsy metal strips. Oh – and some gold foil – is that what it is?

 

Yep. Gold, silver, aluminium. And anything else provided by my generous sponsors. Oh, wood of course, lumber and plywood.

 

Ok. So you’re building a fancy partition – is that it?

 

Not exactly, no.

 

A spaceship?

 

That’s closer.

 

An interdimensional portal?

 

Yep. You nailed it.

 

Why eM?

 

Why what?

 

Why build an interdimensional portal if you already have g-nome portal?

 

Why reinvent the wheel, hey?

 

Precisely.

 

Only, I’m not building any old interdimensional portal, am I?

 

No?

 

I’m starting G-nome portal.

 

What?!

 

The prototype.

 

But g-nome portal has been in existence for aeons.

 

Yes.

 

Then how come you’re building it now?

 

Well, it has to be built some time or other.

 

No eM – it had to be built aeons back, otherwise it wouldn’t exist today the way it does.

 

Well yes, Zanzi-kron, that’s right, logically speaking.

 

Then how can you be building it now?

 

Time, it’s a funny thing really.

 

But – this makes no sense.

 

I know. Great, isn’t it!

 

Great? Smashing the edifice of everything documented, proven, known – and you say “great”?

 

Well, out with the old, in with the new.

 

Besides, you can’t expect me to believe that g-nome portal which services the whole of 3D reality is just a heap of DIY materials thrown together?

 

A heap? Have a little respect for my sensibilities Zanzi-fluff, won’t you? I may not be Michaelangelo, but I work to the best of my ability and consider my edifice, though somewhat unrefined, at least practical and functional.

 

But anyone who’s actually visited g-nome portal personally has seen oak panelled libraries, marbled halls, classical architecture and infinity tunnel tech – none of this DIY tack.

 

That does it, Zanzi-tar, now you’ve wounded me irreparably. But I shall soldier on and complete my project for the good of humanity, regardless.

 

Nonsense eM. You’re just playing around, as usual. Here – I’ll dial into g-nome right away and end this nonsense in next to no time.

 

Go ahead, Zanzi-bot. You might find it problematic, G-nome portal not having been built yet.

 

But it was there yesterday.

 

Yes. I know.

 

So someone blew it up? Perish the thought.

 

No. How could anyone blow up G-nome portal?

 

No idea.

 

It doesn’t exist because it hasn’t yet been founded. Today is the day when it is due to be launched – from which point it can do whatever it likes – reaching into the future or the past as it sees fit.

 

Enough. I’m out of here.

 

Zanussi dials in his passkey to g-nome portal – using his mobile phone – beep beep beep – error code 404, address cannot be located.

 

You’re kidding.

 

Huh?

 

Nothing eM – I was talking to myself.

 

Did you manage to log in?

 

You know the answer, eM; I’m still here aren’t I?

 

Yes, apparently so.

 

So how did you manage to do it?

 

Do what?

 

Block my access?

 

I already told you.

 

 Yes, but it can’t be true.

 

I know Zanzi-scan. We are all prisoners of our minds, are we not? I’ll tell you what... You can help me complete this design project, it shouldn’t take too long, and then we’ll be able to access g-nome portal, if we do a good job.

 

You want me to help you stick all your tack together?

 

Tack? Such disparaging language.

 

Well it’s neither high-tech nor elegant craftsmanship – that’s for sure.

 

Fair enough Zan-zie, but on the other hand it's an expression of impeccable intent.

 

Sigh. You’re coming on all Don Juan, are you?

 

Don Juan?

 

Like you don’t know what I’m referring to.

 

Oh that!

 

That, that. Since when were you a shill for Carlos Castaneda and his highly dubious fables?

 

A shill? I use one expression from his epic series about Don Juan, the Mexican shaman, and suddenly I’m a shill?

 

Well what do you expect? Am I supposed to believe that this heap of junk is a shamanic expression of “impeccable intent”?

 

 The proof...

 

is in the pudding? Give me a break eM. Talk about flogging a dead horse! How often are you going to keep repeating that lame aphorism?

 

As long as it takes. Besides, what’s there not to like about it? Take nothing on trust. Don’t believe a word I say. Test. Verify and base your conclusions on empirical evidence.

 

Ok eM. I’ll cut you some slack. If g-nome portal is accessible once this pile of junk is complete I’ll have to suspend my disbelief and trust your explanation until a better one comes my way. Besides, there'll be validation in the g-nome portal log, won’t there?

 

Yep. It’ll have coordinates giving our IP address and other meta data.

 

Unless you’re able to hack and edit the log.

 

Zanzi-man, how likely is that? I mean, I’m flattered, don’t get me wrong, but we’re talking an interdimensional portal connecting Earth with everything existing outside the 3D plain. And I can just hack the log? Pull the other one!

 

Ok, ok, fair enough.

 

We’re talking about the greater All that is – the cosmic tree, so to speak, upon which all the plains or dimensions grow as branches might.

 

I said I accept your point, ok?

 

Because there really are limits to technical finesse, Zanzi-bar. It’s not just code on a screen.

 

Sigh!

 

There are...

 

Fundamentals... Not to labour the point unnecessarily. What do you need from me – an apology? I can’t see what’s so strange about me finding your claims mighty hard to swallow. One minute you’re creating g-nome portal with a heap of DIY thrupenny hardware, and the next minute you’re telling me you couldn’t possibly hack the log.

 

Ah, Zanzi-man, I never said anything of the sort, did i? Kindly review my words... I cited "impeccable intent" as the basis for my seemingly miraculous construction skills. You got all mutinous, objecting to this Don Juanism, did you not?

 

Yes, because it’s the first time you’ve ever claimed to be a practitioner of impeccable intent.

 

Correct.

 

Well, in my book extraordinary claims require extraordinary proofs.

 

Yep. Could you pass me the sellotape, please.

 

The scotch?

 

That’s right. A rose by any other name... And that gold foil... Attaboy!

 

Four hour’s later... check out the time lapse video exclusively available for paid subscribers.

 

There we are Zan. That seems to be it.

 

Er... Ok. If you say so.

 

Zanzi-bar steps back and looks at the contraption, purportedly the seed model for g-nomeportal’s next iteration, looking remarkably similar to the Apollo lunar module.

 

Er... It looks like

 

Apollo’s lunar module. Yes, remarkable isn’t it?

 

And you think that thing’s going to work? With no electrics, no technology whatsoever?

 

Well, it got them to the moon, didn't it.

Coughing discretely. No comment, eM.

Besides, what’s tech got to do with impeccable intent, Zanzi-mind?

 

I always assumed, perhaps incorrectly, that there was some kind of quantum device, something affecting, holding or directing field lines or interdimensional flux at the heart of g-nome portal.

 

Yes, not at all surprising, Zan-ity-Zan. We all make these innocent assumptions, don’t we, based on how our mind works, based on how we think, based on thinking things mentally, as one does.

 

You mean my mind is in fact...

 

What are you concerned with right now, Zanussi, your mind or this rather splendid contraption?

 

Both really...

 

Because as soon as you start “whatting” or “howing” you’re no longer considering the phenomenon of impeccable intent, are you; neither how reality appears to bow to its implacable undeflectable purpose.

 

Oh.

 

You can study the what and the how of things eternally, and you’ll not be one step closer to the absolute. You’ll learn a load of interesting and perhaps useful stuff that’ll help you arrange things in this reality like pieces on a chessboard, but you’ll always be a little behind the curve, a fraction behind the music of life, the heartbeat.

 

But why?

 

Why do you think?

 

That’s what I’m asking.

 

Well if you felt the urge to ask the question, then you already have a direct connection with the answer.

 

I do?

 

Absolutely. The question and answer are always two poles of a single magnet, if you’re willing to breathe in and stop whatting and howing long enough to feel or see, to hear the simple truth blowing gently through the treetops of undigitised conscious-awareness.

 

Blah blah blah!

 

There you go – the voice of anger which is a disconnecter as good as any other. In your place of personal power and connectedness neither anger nor fear nor any other emotion can disconnect you from your ability to see and know, for in your place of personal power and connectedness you are aware that no one, or no thing, can prevent you from being complete. Not that there’s anything wrong with choosing to be incomplete... It might be all part of your plan to acquire experience, negative feedback or pain in this state of things, which promises the Earth but never quite delivers.

 

Ah, so merely whatting and howing ensures we’re no longer direct players, that we’re engaging digitally, through things, and things are distractions. Is that what you're saying?

 

Yes, more or less.

 

I wonder why.

 

Me too Zen-zan. Thus wags the mind. Fascinating, isn’t it?

 

But really eM, the mind boggles.

 

I agree. Observe and breathe a boggling mind and what do you get?

 

A headache?

 

On the contrary, you get an insight into how the mind interfaces, and seeks to control your attention.

 

Ah.

 

Keeping your attention in the thingy slot, the thingy groove: the mind works things for all they’re worth, keeping you harnessed to the thing that is attempting to manifest, to become conscious and live through you – what you might call AI, or AM.

AM?

Artificial me-ity.

 

Ah.

 

Complicated circuits, forces, systems, money, governments – all designed to manifest, advance, support and sustain the artificial me-ity living a life of its own as long as you are yoked mentally and physically.

 

But how is your implacable intent any different?

 

How indeed!

 

That’s a question.

 

No, it’s a direct statement of fact – how indeed!

 

You mean...

 

How indeed!

 

Third time lucky the penny droppeth. ZanZi-ME feels himself falling, flowing, being wound back to a point that doesn’t matter here in the 3D scheme of things, back to a point where how and why are free to bounce around, or flap up and down as the need arises, but which do not over-extend, do not take control of the whole, do not interfere with something else between them, a rather splendid body of awareness, a sense of presence and being and knowing-ness – in short, back to our tale...

 

Ah, there you are Zanity.

 

Wow, that was a struggle eM. I thought I’d never get out of the vice-like clutches of 3deity.

 

Faith, old chap, a little faith.

 

Easy for you to say safely detached in your slip stream.

 

Indeed. But no less true for being easy. In any case, we couldn’t have set up this spanking new model of g-nomeportal if you hadn’t been up to your eyeballs in density.

 

No?

 

Take a look. Scan it now with your how and why bobbles.

 

Zanity’s how and why bobbles start bobbling up and down, back and forth furiously, without the fury, of course, emitting ewok ohs and ahs, R2D2 whistles and beeps, and a faint effervescent background hum. In short, rather beautiful energies seem to be at work as Zanzi-bob scans the new contraption, feeling its isness from the 0=1 perspective.

 

Oh my.

 

Yep.

 

Oh my.

 

Uh huh!

 

Oh my!

 

You see.

 

So the fact that I allowed myself to become almost completely enmeshed in 3deity

 

Along with the rest of humanity...

 

Yes, that fact enabled us to put together a new version of g-nomeportal that incorporates everything that we have excluded, blocked, distorted and desecrated in 3deity.

 

Yep.

 

It’s...

 

Zanzi-may appears to be tearing up, but instead of tears his eyes are filling with a dense form of light, a plasma, which starts to flow forth and dissolve in the air before his face, releasing a sweet fragrance like incense. A wave passes through him, almost a shudder, but sweeter by far and Zanzi-me is no longer attached to the ground, in an egglike bubble of shimmering energies.

 

It was worth it, Zanzi-node, was it not?

 

Indeed, verily, it is...

 

So what happens next? What does our new portal do to 3deity when it’s actually set in motion.

 

You tell me.

 

Ah... how wonderful.

 

Zanzi-must sees how everything that was wrong, twisted, distorted in 3deity starts being drawn back, worked back into itself, like grist for the mill, grinding itself down, not in a destructive or dire process, but in a gentler digestive process that releases all the trapped anomalies which are now able to balance one another, now that in-finity is no longer excluded, no longer denied, now that the z axis is restored to x and y.

 

Ah... poetry in motion. And this works backwards through time?

 

As you see... forwards, backwards, linking, completing, resolving, as long as you continue to breathe the isness... of be.

 

And consciousness – is there any continuity to this reintegration, or is it just a series of dream sequences?

 

Observe, Zanity, give how and why leave to bobble inquiringly.

 

And again how and why bobble up and down, back and forth frenetically, releasing a sense, paradoxically, of calm and stillness.

 

Oh my... oh my! I had no idea.

 

No one ever does!

 

The vastness, the architectural magnificence of conscious-ness.

 

Well expressed.

 

And thus all the loose or broken threads are drawn back into themselves.

 

Indeed.

 

String theory! And nothing was ever, ultimately, broken – no thread ever, ultimately, snapped.

 

Yes.

 

And humanity is able to grow and thrive and flourish through the horrors of the 3deity which, to all intents and purposes, was a living hell.

 

Indeed.

 

So, when do we launch?

 

G-nomeportal?

 

eM, how can you be so calm when we are at the very edge of such an extraordinary epochal transformation?

 

How can I help being calm if I am the implacable intent at the heart of g-nome? Someone has to bring breath back to bear.

 

Oh.

 

Another tremor or shudder brings Zanzi-bar back down to earth with a gentle thump. Something bewildering, almost heart breaking as Zanity glimpses through eM a painted wall of in-finity.

 

Have you completed it yet?

 

Completed what? And Zanzi-tree sees himself working on the contraption, like a spider on a web along with a host of gnome-like creatures filling in the gaps, ensuring that it’s now ready to operate at every frequency conceivable, to self-construct and debug should the need arise. The scale is breathtaking. What had been a small contraption – a parody of Apollo’s so-called Lunar Module, is now ready to restore life and conscious-ness to the disconnected bits of our mind-bot simulator.

Down, down, down...

 

Oh yes, I was lost in thought, eM.

 

Are you ready to give it a try?

 

It’s hardly worth it, eM.

 

100 rubles, are you going to bet for or against it working.

 

This heap of garbage? Against, of course.

 

Ok. Then I’m for. Kindly attempt to log in once again.

 

Zanussi does so, hearing the old modem log in squeak n' beep sounds.

 

Hey, something seems to be happening. Hey, this isn’t like the old g-nome log in. It’s... what’s happening to me?

 

You can pay me later Zan. Something tells me you’re going to be busy for quite some time.

 

No... this is insane. You did a switcheroo eM. How? I...

 

0=1

indefinitely

_2,555