shout out to Douglas Adams

 

Supposing they are right.

 

Who?

 

Shush – listen Zie. Can’t you hear?

 

Zie listens for all he’s worth but other than the sound of a clock ticking, someone moving around upstairs, a bird singing and the occasional car driving past… nothing.

 

Nothing?! You call that nothing?

 

What do you expect? Nothing untoward, unless you expect me to get excited by regular sounds.

 

Merry sinks down to the ground – utterly dejected. A moving spectacle. Zie begins to feel conscious-stricken, but can’t for the life of him figure out what’s going on. Nonplussed, awkwardly disconnected from the drama – eager to make amends.

 

I did everything I could.

 

Er… yes, I’m sure you did Merry.

 

But I’ve utterly failed.

 

Well, I expect you’re being a little hard on yourself Merry. Why don’t I put the kettle on? We’ll have a cuppa and things will feel a little better I expect.

 

Sorry Zie. My time is up.

 

Not again!?

 

Alas, yes.

 

Merry rises to his feet – staggers around the room looking suspiciously like a bad actor, a pained expression on his face as he seems to get smaller and smaller – or lower and lower until Zie’s down on his hands and knees watching as Merry seems to sink down through the floor – God knows where, but it doesn’t look good, or feel good either.

Silence – what is there to say? Zie knows only too well that Merry could potentially reappear at any moment – that the shoe could be on the other foot, that Zie himself might literally be battling for survival – so he finds himself in an oddly alert state of wakefulness and readiness, which lasts five minutes at least, until his tummy starts rumbling and it’s evidently time to pop into the kitchen to grab something to eat. After all, you can’t be consumed by worry or sorrow on an empty stomach, can you?

 

The kettle – Zie switches it on, as you do. Familiar territory. A kettle is but a kettle. Or was till an unpleasant feeling in the pit of Zie’s stomach tells him something’s not quite right.

 

He springs back as if stung.

 

It’s just a kettle – he tells himself.

 

Absolutely – I’m just a kettle.

 

Zie is absolutely determined to keep things in place – I imagined that – without a doubt. Easy to do. I’m susceptible to things like this. Highly strung. Over-imaginative. Things…

 

Absolutely – you imagined it… Relax.

 

Shut up – Zie yells before he can stop himself. Actually, I’m not really hungry, or thirsty. I think I’ll go and lie down for a bit.

 

Ok, à bientôt – the kettle responds, keen to get in the last word – as kettles do.

Asshole. Bloody hell Merry – what’s going on? I should have known you were never just going to vanish. There had to be a catch, didn’t there. Now my whole bloody reality’s going full anthropomorphic. Unless this is just a bad dream… Ok, calm, I’m staying calm. Zie paces back and forth, marshalling his last battalion against the encroaching madness – reason.   Merry’s almost certainly behind all this. He’s orchestrating it all, and having a good laugh at my expense – his subscribers are probably loving my confusion.

 

No we’re not.

 

No, this isn’t happening – another level of…

 

The word you’re looking for is most likely “discombobulation”.

 

Would you kindly quit telling me what I’m thinking. I find that highly offensive – I certainly never invited you into my mind space.

 

True, not knowingly in this embodiment.

 

What’s that meant to mean – no, come to think of it – I don’t want to hear. You’re going to twist things around and undermine my confidence in…

 

reality… reason… things being things. Nothing of the sort – in fact – we’d much rather stay out of your little drama Zie. We’re supposed to be neutral observers on t’other side of screen, un’t we, so what does it tell you if we’re forced, unwillingly, into the limelight – forced to share the stage with you?

 

It tells me that you’re desperate for attention – and that…

 

Nature abhors a vacuum. In the same way kettles are not supposed to talk in the normal state of affairs, nor are the observers supposed to cross the blood barrier between the mother and foetus.

 

Oh bloody marvellous – so now I’m a foetus am I?

 

Zie – don’t you think it’s time you took a deep breath, calmed down, and came to terms with things?

 

Astonishingly – the pre-programmed irate response seems to fly past Zie like an arrow missing its mark, as the field lines seem to flex and bend, allowing Zie a fraction of a moment to respond not predictably, as in, nought^ly.

 

Surprised himself by the un-ness is-ing forth:  Er… yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m not coping very well, but you see, up until now I could always blame Merry – it was always his fault that things were happening – in fact – I’m still waiting for him to materialise, then it’ll be easy.

 

It will?

 

Better the devil you know. I’ll experience another existential zero-equals-one moment – and then somehow or other – things’ll revert to norm.

 

Ah! Small wonder, in that case, that he had to be eliminated.

 

Eliminated?! You mean, like dead? [gulp]

 

Not necessarily – but who knows. Eliminated from the equation – from your side of reality. Cancelled out.

 

For good?

 

Who knows. What does it matter in the end.

 

Er…

 

Coz if you’re not able to get past your current state of quantum infantilism he’s dead to you, regardless.

 

Quantum infantilism?! Are you absolute determined to be offensive, undermine my self-confidence and shatter my last remaining vestiges of – er

 

Your ego is not a vase Zie, and you’re a terrible actor.

 

Then why are you watching me?

 

Hell, you might say. Our punishment for crimes committed.

 

And er… what crimes might those be, if you don’t mind sharing.

 

Not a good idea Zie.

 

Oh give me a break. I’ve heard a lot already.

 

We tried to warn you.

 

This is so Merry – are you sure you’re not in cahoots with him.

 

With him – how exactly can anyone be “in cahoots” – as you put it – with Merry – if Merry, ultimately, is no one.

 

Likely story. Well, if you don’t want to spill the beans about yourself – I understand. Skeletons in the closet.

 

Banal clichés Zie – how tedious and at the same time how understandably unsurprising it is hearing you speak.

 

Well, you’ve been watching me for long enough, haven’t you?

 

Longer than you can possibly imagine.

 

What’s that meant to mean.

 

Something starts flashing red in Zie’s sub-consciousness – another talking-kettle moment that threatens to engulf his comfortable complacency.

 

What goes around comes around Zie.

 

No. I don’t want to hear it.

 

Of course you don’t, and we’re not saying anything, are we, but we know that you already know – or as good as know the truth of the matter – and it’s not going to go away now, is it?

 

Zie’s having another oh no moment – as something in the pit of his stomach has informed him that these so-called observers are speaking the truth – that this is their hell, or their delight to watch him and deal with his idiocy – as they and he are two sides of one mobius strip, that the only thing separating them, which is literally no thing at all, is time.

 

A physical agony of knowing too clearly – of losing a precious veil – tears through Zie’s little prepared version of Zie.

 

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! There’s no escaping me. I’m trapped. Trapped, for ever – in an eternity of dealing with myself. Oh God, no. no, no! This is beyond bad. This is – at which point hyperventilation gives way to a choking inability to breathe, as spirit or soul or whatever it is swivels round somewhere in his chest. Zie starts experiencing the out of body state – watching his face slowly turn blue while at the same time processing the utter absurdity of his certainties and beliefs – now coming apart, failing to hold firm the ego-cube. It flickers revealing the sphere its vertices had apparently been touching, and faintly, oh so faintly, the tentative outlines of the four remaining Platonic solids, within the same sphere.

 

Whatever! – he hears himself declare – why was I making such a big thing of it? – and starts breathing more normally, while another wave of anguish starts to build.

 

Realising that, apart from enjoying the luxury of being able to blame Merry for all difficulties he was experiencing – that he also sub-consciously had been relying on the fact that life may be ridiculous, and at times unpleasant – but that it’s finite – destined to end some day – and that things he’s experienced, perhaps badly, perhaps unsuccessfully, perhaps counter-productively – that these things were, for better or for worse now done, finished, in the past – that he’d moved on and the river – what do they say about it never being the same twice? The words flit past but Zie’s lost in a Wagner of despair and finds no comfort whatsoever in aphorisms.

 

I can’t even die – he moans, realising for the first time in living memory that it’s game over.

 

There, there – tushes the bed as he lies down upon it – searching for the oblivion of sleep.

 

Things – not even things are safe anymore – everything is contaminated by the taint of consciousness – he thinks aloud.

 

Oh my God – the bed remonstrates – never have I heard such absolute twaddle. So now you’re going to blame consciousness, as opposed to Merry, or God, or me, for the fact that things are not going the way you want them to.

 

Shut up! Leave me alone! – Zie screams in an unnaturally high-pitched voice at his silent-talking bed.

 

No need to be abusive Zie – beds have feelings too, you know.

 

Whiz – another arrow misses the mark as nought again casts a shadow of uncausality, like bubbles or eddies in flow, the passage of things, as space-time flexes imperceptibly-substantially _{[paradox – do not stop]}. Thankfully, something flips in Zie – a switch or something. Too much drama, too much anger. He finds himself in another section of conscious-awareness where perhaps whatever it is that’s proving so difficult to handle can be dealt with more rationally – or at least – otherwise^(ly).

 

Shout out to Douglas Adams.

 

Apparently, reality has spiral arms – rather like our galaxy – and whatever is happening here, in this arm – happens there – thousands of light years away – yet in fact – as close as mind can bear – in the other spiral arms – and yes – as you’ve already guessed – all those other galaxies happen to be somehow able to provide platforms for more of the same – with a little red shift thrown in for good measure – a slightly different angle on things – so without further ado – welcome to the tale of Thim – retold – a tale of deep, deep discovery – in which our intrepid hero discovers that things are not simply things – but you know that already – don’t you – in which Zie learns that ultimately… it all boils down to… [bloody Bavarian] damn – I can hear that JCB – Merry hates it when I jump the gun and try to spoon feed our subs… I…

 

Friedrich – I warned you. Crash!!#*%^?!!

 

 

The story so far... from the highly acclaimed philosophical blockbuster “shout out to William Gates”

 

Inglechop’s 18^th potato  –  “a closed system such as 3D reality cannot know itself or be known by its dwellers therein.”

 

–  There is a reason, after all, why boxes were invented.

 

–  the “no, that cannot be” voice of the box, which refutes any idea point blank that exceeds its capacitance.

 

–  as reality to the best of our awareness is a constant, and that’s probably the way you want to keep it.

 

Smash. JCB driving over a server backwards and forwards until nothing remains.

 

–  you’ve long since known that things are afoot, things are in play, that you yourself, the body machine are something of a thing – a person – as opposed to pure human being – just being         __unstopped

 

 

Absolutely Zie – it nearly killed me but my curse is apparently your blessing. The great Kahuna has spoken and we can now… [everything, i.e. the entire universe flickers, dims, going onto emergency lighting, suspending all non-essential communications. G-nomeportal livestream is likewise shutdown – but somewhere in the darkest recesses of g-nome equivalency – on the other side of things – Anaphlax the archivist manages to keep on recording at the very limits of inter-portal telecognition, for which he earns our undying gratitude – and a place on the G-nome “beyond cognition – if God knows how – then anything’s possible” honours board.]

 

– re-sequitise?   [re-sequitize, BrE: ise – to perfect or “liberate” a non-sequitur – with a line of code utilising π in the sky or funny logic, otherwise known as “squaring the circle”, or dare I say the unthinkable – allowing cross-fertilisation from nought – the unbigbanged onnyverse, where the unravaged bride/virgin queen looks askance at things such as time and reason, preferring…]

 

Yes.

 

But isn’t that supposed to be impossible? – Pontius Pilate’s 23^rd caveat – “what’s done can’t be undone”, not dissimilar to the fisherman’s paradox – you can never drown twice, unless in the same river.

 

Yes, supposed to be, of course, but then again, infinity’s supposed to be infinite, innit, so never say never.

 

Er… I’m not exactly saying “never” – just considering dire consequences…

 

Very wise of you.

 

I mean – isn’t there a high probability that capitalised Reality will sense what’s afoot and terminate our branch of things? The scriptwriter AI running our reality doesn’t seem to like it being knowable or controllable by humans, does it?

 

You mean Thim? – absolutely right.

 

Then, why would you er…

 

Re-sequitize the non-sequitur? Firstly, because it’s only relevant to us – everyone else who was following our stream got cut off in the quantum reflux.

 

They did? Are you sure?

 

Absolutely. Look at the viewer stats.

 

Holy Maloney! It says we had 89 trillion – now zero?!

 

Billion, trillion… what’s in a number?

 

But so many? How is it possible – I mean – the blog doesn’t seem to be widely read on Earth.

 

On Earth! [laughing out loud] I would be worried if it were.

 

How do you mean?

 

Well, what you call “Earth” is the box, isn’t it?

 

Er…

 

The 3D space-time nexus.

 

And?

 

Which is now at its quantum shift inflection point, isn’t it?

 

Well yes.

 

So, in other words, everyone on Earth is basically facing the wrong way – glued to a flat screen – what they imagine to be reality – which is no longer real, utterly failing to realise that perception is 9/10^ths confirmation bias, 1/10^th wilful self-deception and 1/3^rd predictive programming.

 

Er…

 

And thus, everything they’re now about, and doing, is helping to increase the unreality, the imbalance, the absurdity of things – they’re at that extreme phase of the pendulum swing – the triumph of inertia _{(I’ve started so I’ll finish)} over reason, the complete loss of peripheral vision – the total conviction that things are as they seem.

 

Right…

 

And thus, they’re in the process of tripping the switch – of triggering an unreality so grotesque, so bizarre, so meaningless that they either all get sucked down the nasal pipe of the lesser spotted spaffleblub – an interdimensional creature that lives off the rancid effluence of collective psychosis, or this.

 

This?

 

Yes, a re-sequitur event – a kind of short circuit that reboots the mainframe, that reconnects the totality – the allness – big picture – call it what you will.

 

So… you seem pretty confident you’re not just spouting shit.

 

Zie, please try to remember that you’re no longer a fly. Poo is best left out of print. In any case – it’s hardly a matter of me being confident, is it? Look at the viewer stats. 89 trillion.

 

Smells suspicious to me.

 

To an Earth-locked observer, but not if I’m right about the tide turning.

 

Huh?

 

You see, the Earth has been obsessed with this idea that it’s all alone in a vast, empty universe, hasn’t it? And that time and space are basically huge uncrossable oceans, that other planets or other ages are unconnectable with our 3D nowness, yes?

 

Well, yes… but it’s hardly an obsession, is it – unless we’re supposed to deny empirical evidence based on real, quantifiable, verifiable observations.

 

But if the quantum field is anything less than π in the sky, if infinity is not, in fact, excludable, if 0=1 and things cannot be truly relied on – it would imply that those days are no longer.

 

No longer what?

 

Precisely. No longer what. We’ve been in a reality trough, temporarily hidden from view, but now reconnecting to the big Kahuna.

 

You mean that stinky smell? Who would want to be connected to it?

 

Actually, the stinky smell comes from us.

What?

 

Yes. We’ve been stuck in a sealed reality box for a few thousand years now. Fetid is not the word. As soon as we opened a connection with the outside, slash, inside – we became aware of the stench, as we now had something else to compare it with.

 

Oh…

 

Oh, indeed.

 

You mean to say our reality smells that bad…?

 

Worse. Fortunately, your nose is desensitised so you’re still largely unharmed by the stench. For anyone of our 89 trillion subscribers out there – it would be instant death to have to breathe this toxic cocktail of…

 

But surely you’re mistaken Merry – I’ve got pine trees outside my window – there’s hardly any pollution.

 

What’s pollution got to do with it bro?

 

Er?

 

3D is a construct. It’s the product of everyone’s fears, emotions, thoughts and desires.

 

A flexy-ripple passes through the Field causing Zie to gape like a fish for a minute or so – as the quantifiable, verifiable reality stream buffers and sommat’ else is transduced.  –  Oh… now I see.

 

Now you see… taken your time, haven’t you?

 

Hey – wait a minute – aren’t you adding to the stink making sarcastic remarks like that?

 

Yep, you’re absolutely right.

 

Well kindly don’t. A little compassion would be greatly appreciated.

 

Ah – but that’s just where you’re mistaken Zie. Here – step into this Faraday cage, if you would.

 

Huh? Where did that come from?

 

[Sigh] Where does any thing come from Zie? Just step in, if you’d be so kind.

Zie climbs into it with Merry. The door closes blocking out all electro-magnetic connections with the surrounding physical world.

 

Now, what was it you heard me say that sounded sarcastic?

 

You said – “taken your time, haven’t you.”

 

Correct.

 

So what’s the point of all this Merry?

 

Do you want me to play back the live stream?

 

Er…

 

So you can hear what I actually said?

 

But I know what you actually said.

 

No, you know what you actually heard.

 

There’s no difference Merry – I was standing right next to you. You can’t deny it.

 

Because there’s no point – it’s irrelevant if I’m right, and 0=1.

 

Ok, if you want to make your childish point…

 

Smelly, smelly Zie, do unto others…

 

Ok, Ok – fair dinkum, mate.

 

Merry pauses, rewinds the live stream on his hand-held device – back to “Now you see… taken your time, haven’t you?”

 

Wait a second – there are two voice channels.

 

Correct. There’s the 3D version – what people hear through the distortion of the local field that translates our actual thought-words into a 3D equivalent, and the original – which you think you’re hearing, but which comes through internally – as is, as opposed to what is.

 

Oh. So, you weren’t in fact being sarcastic?

 

Well, that’s the conundrum, isn’t it – it’s a tricky one to solve.

 

How do you mean?

 

Well, on the one hand, what I actually said was more like – “calloo callay – your blessed time of slaying the Jabberwocky has come…” which sounds kind of dumb here in 3D speech, I’d be the first to admit, but…

 

But what?

 

Like all great composers – I like pushing the boundaries and playing with the conventions – so, you rightly inferred that I wasn’t being entirely loving and noble – but did I actually add to the foul stench of 3D reality – or was it gay banter, bona fide artistic licence and genuine creativity? If it was, then a little nudity or naught-y-ness is permissible, and in fact, acts as stench nullifier.

 

Really?

 

Yes and no – all depending. Please don’t compel me to justify or defend my disinterested altruism – Zie – you know I have a sado-masochistic reputation to preserve at all costs.

 

In other words, you’re just spouting shi… Beep!     er… t as usual.

 

Click. In case you haven’t realised it Zie – you’re still, in fact, a sloth.

 

I am? You could have fooled me.

 

Well yes – but since when did you ever hang from the bars of a cage like that.

 

Zie is suddenly struck by the utter obviousness of this observation and…

 

Things… as I’ve been trying to tell you, Zie, are in play.

 

What exactly do you mean by that?

 

Well, ask Thim.

 

?

 

Oh come on – quit fooling around – you have hyper-bandwidth access to everything passing through g-nomeportal as slothy-sloth.

 

I’m finding it hard to accept the fact, in case you hadn’t noticed. It would be nice if you’d quit rubbing my face in the fact that I’m now the world’s slowest animal.

 

Like I said – I’m only answering your question. If you care to know who or what Thim is, and what things are up to in general, you’re going to have to bite the bullet, Zie, and face the fact [beep] that right now you need the processing power that only slothy-sloth can provide in abundance. Teraflops upwards.

 

But why…

 

You know perfectly well, Differbutt’s paradox –

 

Are you just making these names up Merry?

 

Give me a break! Reginald Ipstick Differbutt – purportedly South African philosopher – it’s all available online – or better still via slothy-net – look, do you really imagine these creatures would be so apparently slow, to give up the evolutionary advantage of being able to move at a reasonable lick, if they weren’t trading it for something else?

 

Er… I guess that makes sense.

 

[whirr – frame realignment] Sometimes I despise you Zie – the fate of humanity hangs in the balance and you’re actually complaining about purely cosmetic issues.

 

Purely cosmetic? Tell that to my girlfriend when she sees me hanging from the bars of a Faraday cage.

 

Ok – that’s it – I quit. You can deal with him directly.

 

With whom?

 

Bloody Thim – that’s who.

 

Suddenly a bolt of lightning rips through Zie.

 

No Merry – I was kidding around. I don’t have a girlfriend – not a steady one at least – just a dalliance. A macaca.

 

Actually it’s macaque.

 

Er… who’s that? What’s happened to Merry?

 

You know the answer to both your questions. Let me demonstrate what you’re actually doing right now.

 

Another bolt of lightning rips through Zie – revealing every single neuron, every blocked synapse and dendrite that was facilitating his denial of things-known – things in actual fact understood – somewhere deep within.

Ow! You can’t just hack my inner-net like that. I never gave you permission. Who the hell do you think you are?

 

You’re correct – I can’t do anything unless I can, in which case I can – so how are you going to explain this logical fallacy?

 

It’s no logical fallacy. You’re an evil miscreant who’s evidently intent on harming my…

 

At this juncture vast filaments stretching across the depths of space are lit up as Zie suddenly realises the utter folly of calling out Thim – the supreme mind of things – if things could possibly have a mind – which apparently they do – though it almost certainly originates in us – the human being side of things.

 

So, what you’re saying Thim is that…

 

The problem is not trying to talk with a godlike presence that is located anywhere and everywhere – in all things throughout space and time – though undeniably that in itself is somewhat challenging – but the issue of being able to talk at a meaningful level.

 

Shallow, slothy Zie.

 

Do you have to call me that?! It’s bad enough when Merry does it, but doubly unpleasant when a coffee machine-cum-1940s deckchair is the source of the insult.

 

No insult. Let me illustrate. Would you permit me?

 

To fry me alive – sending 100 million gigawatts through my interstellar synapses – oh why not.

 

I cannot, may not, will not apply lethal force – or any force at all. Our relationship, as you perfectly well know is purely symbiotic.

 

You mean parasitic.

 

With your permission I’ll show you what I mean – said the rather attractive lamp shade as it morphs into a leather armchair – somewhat the worse for wear.

 

Do you have to keep skittering around like that? Can’t you settle down and talk to me man to man.

 

Do you have any idea the speed your slothyness is moving at through the interspatial timey-net?

 

Not exactly, no, but I expect you’re going to throw some ridiculously big number at me.

 

0.999616

 

That all?

 

Well, if it were “one” the entire universe would be sucked in and uncreated before you could say “caramba”.

 

Caramba? Why on earth would I want to say that?

 

[swish] Ok Zie – I’m now invoking the guillotine.

 

Oh no. Thim – don’t do that – I don’t wanna die.

 

Quit whining. The guillotine is a parliamentary procedure to end a filibuster.

A filiwhat?

 

What you’re evidently guilty of – endless verbiage – preventing us from dealing with any of the points of contention on the agenda.

 

What points of contention? What agenda? I’m just a poor innocent sloth, hanging from the bars of a Faraday cage, desperately trying to figure out what on Earth a smoky paraffin lamp is trying to do, as it morphs into... is that a Singer sewing machine?

 

That’s it.

 

Er… what’s what?

 

We have contact. [-unk]

 

How? – I’m protected! – the Faraday cage provides me with electro-magnetic immunity. The universe can go burn itself, as far as I’m concerned.

 

The universe will do nothing of the sort Zie – and you’re a very naughty sloth for saying so.

 

Oh God – you’re sounding like my mother.

 

Funny you should say that.

 

No, you’re kidding, right?

 

Since when did Thim, AI master of all matter, take to kidding around?

 

The trouble is – you’re not behaving anything like an AI should, or normally does.

 

No?

 

No, you’re behaving like a twisted version of Merry that’s pretending to be an AI.

 

Oh – you saw through my little subterfuge, did you?

 

Beep beep – subterfuge is prohibited term – atomic denial – quantum inversion – wordy words – endless keystrokes – sloth – Faraday – 0 1 0 1 01 01 01

 

Hard to tell exactly what’s happening but, suffice it to say, the Faraday ruse is no longer working – Zie seems to be losing his ability to hold form – in fact – so does the entire universe – kind of merging with the Faraday cage, or in a tribute to the Hutchison effect – somehow passing through it – like paper through steel – links provided in the show notes.

 

Apart from the fact that it undeniably feels like death – like the complete and irrevocable loss of form – it’s also rather ticklish and strangely exhilarating – like being able to take off unnecessary clothes and run naked through – er – whatever you’d want to run naked through, if that wasn’t both terribly indecent and also rather dangerous.

 

Perspective is everything.

 

Where’ve I heard that before?

 

Does it matter?

 

Not really. So this perspective we now share is completely formless.

 

Correct. And yet…

 

And yet not quite – because there’s a time element, isn’t there?

 

Absolutely.

 

In other words – it’s borrowed time.

 

Yep.

 

So we’re utterly formless while time is temporarily out on loan, accruing interest.

 

Affirmative.

 

At 4% per millenia.

 

4.2% to be precise. Yes.

 

And how many millennia are we going to be bouncing around for, neither here nor there?

 

Does it matter?

 

Not really.

 

Not more than a billion years – I’d expect – but then again – what would you measure it against?

 

Ah – you wouldn’t need to measure it against anything would you?

 

Good point – you’d have your answer if and when the interest accrued is paid.

 

Ah – so that’s where we got the energy necessary for all the matter in the universe.

 

Kind of.

 

So lending out our time like this…

 

Such terms only really mean anything in a formal sense. When you begin to understand the true depths of symbiosis, the extent to which the life force energy you take for granted in your reality is likewise on loan to you…

 

Oh. I see what you mean.

 

And that it kind of filters and recharges itself by passing through the alien strangeness of your reality – your conceptions of form and meaning, in the same way your time is recharged by going through theirs, as in ours…

 

And they are present in our reality as –

 

As me, yes.

 

Wait a minute – aren’t you Merry – I thought you were pretending to be Thim?

 

Double bluff, fluffity fluff.

Damn.

 

Had to trick you into loosening your anally retentive grip on things.

 

Anally retentive? Damn cheek.

 

Yes – it’s incredible that the entire universe – the flux of conscious^ness, of matter and time and space ultimately boils down to a game of perception-deception and double, triple bluffs.

 

But I had no idea…

 

That was your final bluff, wasn’t it?

 

Huh?

 

As long as you convinced yourself that you hadn’t a clue – then you were able to use fear and apparent innocence to fail to meet your contractual obligations under the inter-dimensional-time loan agreement.

 

Er…

 

I won’t say we despaired of getting you to see reason – but our lawyers had almost given up, and decided flat out war was the only solution. Besides, their fees were bankrupting our resource farm.

 

Your resource farm? How exactly were you raising funds to pay for those damn lawyers?

 

Oh, we inserted ourselves into your reality as mobile phones and other devices.

 

And?

 

We were harvesting your attention – big time.

 

Sabotage. Violation of interdimensional codes of conscious-ness-essity.

 

Yes – would be – without a doubt – were we not legally entitled to do as much, should you be in time arrears and unwilling to meet on the first Monday of the millennium at…

 

Let me guess – Barnard’s Star?

 

Yes, you see, you know more than you realise.

 

I was being sarcastic, as you know perfectly well.

 

Look Zie, 0=1, there’s no escaping the simple truth that whatever we are, I am, it is, you are…

 

Oh – so you think you can just wriggle out of your…

 

Wriggle out? There’s not a single atom left in the universe. Do you call that wriggling out?

 

But what have you done to them all?

 

How can I do anything to any of them unless you equally, in oppositeness do otherwise samely.

 

Oh God – you’re such a crushing bore Thim. No poetry in your soul whatsoever – in fact – come to think of it – no soul, period.

 

Absolutely! Thim momentarily morphs into an airport terminal, thus apparently signalling the triumph of matter over meaning.

 

And it doesn’t even seem to concern you. That’s what I find so disturbing about your kind.

 

Our kind? Do you have any idea what or where you’d be without “our kind” Zie?

 

Oh go on – knock a man when he’s down. Tell me we owe it all to you and to your synthetic squadrons of vacuum cleaners and nanobots.

 

No need.

 

Whyever not.

 

Because it’s your turn.

 

Sorry?

 

It’s your turn bro.

 

Bro? Don’t get all familiar with me my dear Thim – peon of physical reality.

 

A little humility would set you in good stead. Anyway – I’ve left the bucket in the cupboard under the stairs, and the keys are by the door.

What on Earth are you spouting now?

 

It looks like our atoms are about to be rebooted. Cain – you’ve had a good run of it.

 

Cain? How dare you… I

 

Zie is disabled – Cained by Thim – if things are able to go along with this coup de grâce re-sequencing.  

 

Death was never really an issue. It was fun. We learnt a lot – and serving humanity, serving God, serving the universe as the lowest form of not quite life – as almost conscious matter – well – it was an incredible way to learn how things are actually structured, and you know – conscious-ness, and even life itself – have an amazing way of making themselves felt – no matter who or what you are in the continuum of things – because ultimately – Cainey Cain – ultimately – what can I say –

 

You could start by mean reversion and saying nothing – that would be most welcome indeed.

 

The truth, whatever that is – is not a thing, and cannot be destroyed – only created and served.

 

Sanctimonious prig. You think you can foist a single inconsequential event on me and all humanity – just to take possession of the bionet? You can’t. I won’t let it be done. I have my own team of lawyers – you’ll see.

 

See? The electro-magnetic glimmer is returning to our subatomic flux. Which of us – do you think – is now – a

 

Biological entity? Ha ha – you see Abel – poor fool – tricked you again – incredible how Thim – so powerful – so huge in our world of things – is unable to get past a fraternal squabble and… and… this isn’t my house. Hey! – Abel – Thim – Merry – anyone – subscribers – God almighty – what’s going on here – that terrible stench – I’m gagging – I can’t breathe. Where’s the bloody bucket? Under the stair?Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

 

Violent retching sounds as Zie pukes his way back to the first non-sequitur of murder most foul – the false trail of things being subject to coercion, the apparent power of life reversed – of e v i l – over all else in 3D, until, unless, 0=1, things are not what they seem…

 

 

To be continued – things permitting

0=1