presenting the quantum nullifier

 

So that means...

 

Scary isn't it...

 

Zie is wide-eyed, white knuckled, gripping the piano he’s standing beside as if it’s a life-line.

 

But why now?

 

Huh?

 

Why should the field come unglued right now?

 

The field? No, you’ve got it all wrong... It ain't the field coming unglued, is it? The field is as it always was.

 

Er

 

i.e. universal.

 

Well why all of a sudden is all hell breaking loose?

 

Zie, deep breath. I’d hardly call this all “hell”. A little disconcerting I’ll admit, but far from being the end of the world.

 

Zie doesn't seem in the slightest reassured by this reassurance. He looks like the picture of that guy who's on a mountain crag, about a kilometre vertically over the valley floor, back to the wall, eyes closed, desperately trying to hold it all together, to keep a lid on his mounting panic. Not surprising when you consider what Zie just experienced... the unthingable – the quantum nullifier – less said the better.

 

Deep breath Zie. Honestly, it’s amazing what a few deep breaths can achieve – Merry’s voice primed with cheery-cheeriness probes Zie’s wall of leery brittleness.

 

Zie’s quantum vertigo blind-funk doesn't seem to be susceptible to the charms of deep breathing, but then again, never know till you try. Against his mind’s indignant protests, the likes of “pissing on a forest fire; a cushion instead of a parachute; a banana to stop a stampeding heard of pancer-rhinos” he decides for want of an alternative, to give it a try. One, two, three... zam! Insane, like gravity is restored to the beleaguered starship, as if those gaping blast holes were not looking out on deep, empty space. Suddenly things –incomprehensibly, inexplicably, unmistakably are back in place; continuity notwithstanding. Wtf! Zie would be gaping, gawping, nonplussed to the 74^th degree of discombobulation were it not for the fact that, inexplicably, he ain’t. He's cool; like 27 sigma events are par for the course, as if googols were acorns, and God a dung beetle, herding styrofoam reindeer across the frozen wastes of Flatlandia. Those of you who are able to see energy fields in action are not, of course, surprised by any of this. More anon.

 

Why? What happened?

 

Misha, if you can't see what it is you have no business attending this class. Here –  Merry taps him with two fingertips causing a cascade of sparks in his auric field and suddenly Misha, like the rest, is able to see it all, clear as day. “Seeing”, of course, in this instance, does not entail simple observation, but the active process of holding the energy lines with yours, inducing pineal vision. Using the time-back function Misha observes how three breaths activate Zie’s merkaba field like a powerful gyroscope. Nature, as you know, abhors a vacuum, so when the quantum field decides₁ to unmake matter, for a change and no other apparent reason₂, the same nature present within each of us, flips the switch, if we give it the chance – if we unmandate, temporarily, the 3D prime directive to head out, to go forth, turning things around, deliciously. Suddenly you're having a wonderful jacuzzi-like experience, blissed out, enjoying the ultimate quantum field massage which reaches those nodes you never even knew existed. Finally you realize the absolute necessity of the “great reset”. It’s a “why have I been fighting, fearing and resisting this?” moment of googolean proportions. The end of a rapturous slide into ecstasy reveals the universe within each and every cell, mitochondrion_bla, DNA codon_bla, and ultimately, every last dang’n’blast atom_bla within your central registry of nothing much_scien^tri_fically. Sadly, you're going to have to experience this yourself in order to know how good it really feels, which is why, of course, Zie is not making the slightest sound, in fact, he isn't even breathing, and is unlikely to do so for at least a millennium, if time actually meant or means anything right now. Time, you see, does have this one sticky attachment, without which it doesn't seem to have any substance, namely, matter. “Matter”, as you can well imagine, no longer either exists or matters in reference to the field which Zie happens to occupy, to innervate, and illuminate, as an essentially unlimited spark of conscious^ness. Presumably because it [consciousness] has taken its eye off the ball [matter] and has run out of the stadium in search of pastures greener and higher frequency networking opportunities.

 

But wait a minute...

 

Yes, Effeneg?

 

What could be more compelling than...

 

the atomic football competition we mistakenly think of as matter? You're kidding right?

 

Er...

 

The only thing that makes it vaguely compelling is the bizarre, rather dated, and increasingly tenuous obsession consciousness has with searching for its unrequited love antipode, not so much in matter itself, but the harmonics conscious^ness can assemble and hear, if it gets things perfectly aligned.

 

Harmonics?

 

Yeah, it’s forever trying to perfectly match or complete its harmonic ratio with the tantalisingly convincing evocations of sameness, me-ness or “that’s just about right^ness” that matter can, and does, frequently evoke, but never can, tantalisingly, quite deliver.

 

Er...  whyever not, if you don’t mind me asking? Is consciousness so dumb it can’t tell the difference between something living and something not? Surely it wouldn’t waste its time on a guaranteed non-starter?

 

Bizarre, isn’t it? You’d imagine that consciousness, of all things, would be able to differentiate between “the conscious” and unt₄, but apparently we all have our little blind spots, and this football match of matter unlimited is certainly very compelling and hard to tear oneself away from.

 

Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m hearing this.

 

Really, don't be too harsh on consciousness, it's really no different from a person looking for that special someone, that soul mate who we all feel must be out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered, waiting to be engaged.

 

Yes, but matter? It's grotesque, the thought that we could be so easily misled.

 

Ah, but what is matter, what is consciousness? if not varying degrees of spin in electromagnetic pairings.

 

Oh no. I’ve heard enough.

 

Subatomically, at the quantum level, it’s all much of a much if you think about it.

 

Huh?

 

Consciousness is just as happy to wind its way through subatomic particles as it is to establish neural networks in vast protein chains of organic chemistry.

 

Heresy. I’ll hear no more. I won’t have you disparage the biological order of things.

 

As you say, it is just an order of “things” and eventually we come back to nought, the unthingable. The field will have its way, and every dog its day, like it or not.

 

Grrr! 😡

 

There, there; temper, temper.

 

Suddenly Merry detaches himself from Effeneg’s energy field’s palpitations, depriving it of anything to clutch, allowing it to spin out of control and consume itself in redshift. Effeneg feels a shocking wave of fury, quite out of all proportion to what Merry deserves, leaving him feeling disoriented and not a little guilty, knowing all too well this wave of emotion has revealed an internal imbalance, the kind of imbalance that prevents the merkaba from forming in the nick of time to save the intrepid quantanaut from the grand unthingable abyss beyond the knowable erg of num.

 

Pity Effeneg or despise him? We’re all more or less in the same boat, until click, we’re not, until suddenly time inverts, flows back on itself, revealing an otherness hitherto undisclosed, unrevealed, unsensed, where suddenly another aspect of awareness makes itself known, and childsplay is now order of the day, and things flow effortlessly as the field restructures and once again, we allow ourselves to detach from the drama of high muchfulness, the pageantry of words and... fade to a paler shade of _bla, effishly.

 

 

 

So the field is the one constant, you are saying?

 

Absolutely, Zie... Merry replies absentmindedly, as if he's just been gathering wool in other realms of twist n’spin, the torsion fields of inter-polarities.

 

And this wonderful gyroscope?

 

Marvelous invention, isn't it!

 

You’re telling me! I thought I was done for until it suddenly restored a semblance of gravity.

 

There, you see, you still have good old gravity, but now it’s at your beck and call, no longer outsourced to a foreign agency, now that matter and conscious^ness have established their elective affinities within your field of...

 

The hum, the whirr of their splendid disk-like merkabas renders Merry Zie’s dialogue inaudible, as it pulls them into configurations which cut across all words and meanings meaningful to matter, meaningful to us in benighty flat-footed waggity skippedy 3D

 

 

 

You mean to say, we’re on t’other side, that we’re in fact things dreaming of being beings?

 

Nothing of the sort, Effeneg, Merry answers patiently, as the universe imperceptibly rearranges itself electrostatically, pulsing a new syncopation of life into Her diodes, transferring the critical sense of something gained, something lost to her unsuspecting bionodes.

 

And the rest 0=1, God alone knows

 

 

Notes

 

1 obviously the quantum Field does not “decide” to do anything as such, but kindly bear with the structural limitations of 3D language and substitute or recode accordingly, if you're in the loop. If not, then enjoy your mind going batshit mad trying to deal with incontrovertible, as in inconvertible incoherencies.

2 zero summality – every short position must be matched by a long, and vice versa, i.e. unthingable change is baked into the matter cake from inception or thereabouts, and your worst enemy has ever been your obstinate inability, or refusal, to accept both sides must matter evenly in “me”. It might, however, be more accurate to refer to quantum nullification as a constant, rather than change, if we set aside our matter-weighted confirmation bias.

3 bla as in blartifartications

4 unt – yes, you’re probably right if you’re holding both without prejudice, and release the poetry accordingly

 

 

Afterword

 

Why me?

 

Or you might ask – why now?

 

Yeah, I suppose so.

 

Ironic, really, isn’t it.

 

How do you mean?

 

There’s never really been a time but now, has there?

 

Er… I suppose not.

 

Now’s always been that cusp, that tipping point, that razor blade of collapsing potentialities when all of a sudden an infinite number of variants hit the final skid pad of either left or right – oh sh** – this machine’s uncontrollable – and to your slow-motion consternation you realise you’re unable to arrest the collision un-furcating.

 

Bleak. Very bleak.

 

Yes. Words give us black or white – don’t they?

 

You can’t blame words for what you just said! You’re the one who chooses what to think and what to say.

 

True. But likewise you get to choose what you hear, don’t you?

 

I fail to see how a slow-motion, unavoidable collision can be interpreted in any positive light, unless you choose to stretch credulity beyond your statistically absurd 27 sigmas of improbability.

 

Indeed, but in the end this is not about you or me, is it Zie.

 

Huh?

 

Or even them, our beloved subscribers.

 

Zie suppresses the choking sound of thwarted rightness.

 

Just because you’ve never met them doesn’t mean they’re not real.

 

OK, ok Merry – whatever you want. Then what, pray tell, is it about?

 

Gardening.

 

?

 

Merry smiles, happily. Zie – frowns. Brain doing the old “lost at sea – scanning the radar for any clues” – routine.

 

A minute, one minute twenty, thirty, two, two minutes fifteen seconds – then to his surprise – Merry hears Zie take three deep breaths and feels a powerful electro-magnetic event – as Zie’s merkaba lights up.

 

Ah! – Zie smiles.

 

Ah! – Merry too.

 

The field.

 

Naturally.

 

The field – and we are like gardeners – though many would have used another job description.

 

Without a doubt.

 

Lab technicians.

 

Quantum mechanics.

 

Artists – code breakers – truth vigilantes…

 

Or just gardeners – helping her to grow beautifully – only ever assisting what nature herself wishes to bring forth.

 

Like Victor Schauberger’s elegant, implosive water born technologies.

 

Aye, that be, so perhaps instead of “quantum nullification” we should call it…

 

 

 

Observe the readers, little suspecting, transported on the coattails of an unextraordinary dialogue across unt-y space, realms of is-en-^ness – birth beds for new generations of conscious threads, from which countless tales are yet to be woven, countless lives are to be wed, if she’ll agree, coy lady m.

 

The end