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

 

shout out to william gates

Not trying to freak you out or anything…

 

No, could have fooled me.

 

It’s just…

 

Let me guess – something so horrific, so horrendous the rug of reality is going to be once again brutally whipped away from under my feet, leaving me suspended momentarily like Wily Coyote above the canyon floor, before I plunge down to another deathless death.

 

Yes, that kind of sums it up.

 

And you get paid for doing this, do you Merry?

 

Not exactly.

 

You just do it for the love of serving humanity, or the sado-masochistic joy of seeing me weeping tears of blood?

 

You have a way with words Zie.

 

Do I? I think you have a way with evoking terror and an insidious, all-engulfing sense of foreboding and powerlessness.

 

Powerlessness? Surely the opposite? Once you’ve faced your greatest fear, the enemy you were praying you’d never meet, you no longer need to fear it.

 

True, Merry, I can hardly dispute that, but minor caveat alert…

 

Yes?

 

There’s always an other, isn’t there?

 

Er…

 

There’s literally never an end to the next truth bomb I have to face, or swallow, or nurse tenderly while it explodes beneath me.

 

Ah, you make it sound almost poetic. I suspect you’re secretly…

 

No, don’t even think of saying it.

 

Grateful for the opportunity…

 

#$@&%* Enough!

 

To experience…

 

Bang.

 

Merry looks somewhat discomposed as a bullet slams into his chest, more or less over his heart, but then has second thoughts and continues what he was saying – the wild and free side of…

You’re not going to die, are you?

 

Not till I’ve got to the end of my sentence, no.

 

Ok, Ok – I’ll help you if that can speed up your removal from this inertial frame.

 

Sure it can, theoretically, if I keep my word – that kind of thing.

 

So, get on with it – finish your bloody sentence and then avaunt, foul minister of hell.

 

Tut, tut Zie.

 

What?

 

You misquoted. It should have been…

 

I don’t care Merry.

 

Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell. Richard III.

 

I – don’t – care. Capiche?

 

That’s not like you Zie. You’re usually so…

 

Naïve and trusting? Yes. About a million times now, and where’s it got me?

 

Well, you do seem to have a knack of ending up as roadkill on the bottom of the canyon, I’ll admit.

 

You’ll admit will you? You’ll admit? How very gracious of you.

 

Well, if you’d just let me finish my sentence.

 

No! Never!

 

Ha ha – you said never.

 

And what?

 

Osmond’s rule.

 

?

 

Actually, it’s section 2.34 but I honestly don’t think that matters.

 

Ok, go on then…

 

Never say never.

 

And that, I’m supposed to believe is section 2.34 of Osmond’s rule?

 

No. It was a device, wasn’t it – have you noticed Zie the way you always fall for anything sounding vaguely scientific – funny that, isn’t it?

 

So you just made it up?

 

Not exactly.

 

What do you mean?

 

Well, in an infinite universe, or rather, a quantum field containing infinite versions of an essentially finite universe, nothing can, in fact, be made up. Not really.

 

And?

 

There’s always, always going to be a copyright strike for outright plagiarism not matter how hard you try to be utterly original.

 

You mean to say that somewhere in the endless perturbations of infinity, an Osmond’s rule actually exists?

 

Oh yes, of course, and you’ll find that even section 2.34 exists.

 

Er…

 

Because we’re back to our good ol’ favourite 1^st law of thermodynamics…

 

Which actually refers to energy in a closed system, and not “nothing” in infinity.

 

Yes, I know, it’s oblique, but you’ll have to trust me on this one.

 

Trust you? I wouldn’t trust your mother, or even her pet poodle.

 

She doesn’t have a poodle Zie, and I’m delighted to hear you wouldn’t – she’s a very dangerous woman.

 

Oh, a woman is she?

 

More or less – but it’s a sensitive topic so I’d be grateful if you’d allow us to leave it there.

 

Don’t want me pressing my advantage.

 

That kind of thing.

 

So I cut you some slack, and you proceed to take me out. Is that it?

 

All in the name of science, yes. How else are we going to advance our learning?

 

Perhaps by study and experimentation, as all good scientists do.

 

And that Zie, is precisely what I intend to do, so without further ado…

 

Yo-yoing me into the gulf of broken boundaries, firing me into the abyss of lost…

 

Waxing lyrical Zie – how I admire the poet in you – ever able to take the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and getting their iambs tripping along five feet at a time.

 

How I despise my weakness. Instead of hating you and channelling my energy into your richly deserved downfall – death by ten thousand poison dagger points, instead I end up messing around with words like an utter fool.

 

Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Zie – there’s actually a lot of meaning to your madness.

 

Really?

 

Well, a little at least.

 

You were just trying to console me.

 

Yes, but there’s no point, is there?

 

I…

 

You can always see through my subterfuge.

 

I despise myself.

 

Attaboy.

 

Well…

 

Well what?

 

Get on with it.

 

With what?

 

Finish your bloody sentence.

 

Really? You grant me permission, after all I’ve said and done.

 

Yes. Resistance is futile. The 17^th circle of hell awaits whether I like it or not. God knows what I did in my previous life to deserve this.

 

The last life – no – that was fairly innocuous, in fact pretty boring. If truth be told your last life completely failed to dazzle.

 

Oh, I’m sorry.

 

No worries. I don’t hold it against you.

 

Jesus wept. This is ridiculous.

 

But a bit further back…

 

How much further back would that be Merry – if you don’t mind being specific.

 

About 48 million years ago.

 

When I was a mollusc?

 

No, you were a chicken.

 

A chicken?

 

Well, a kind of chickeny fish, if you know what I mean.

 

Not really, but when’s that ever stood in the way of a good death experience.

 

True, good point.

 

So, are you going to put me out of my misery?

 

Well, it’s tempting to continue beating about the bush indefinitely, but I guess we’ve got the reader’s attention by now.

 

The reader – as in one.

 

One and all, yes, that’s right.

 

And what?

 

Well, timing is everything isn’t it – like telling a good joke.

 

Or making love.

 

Tush, tush – nothing so explicit in this family friendly blog.

 

Ok, sorry about that.

 

Now, where was – oh yes – things.

 

Things? As in…

 

You experiencing the wild and free side of things – that’s what it’s all about isn’t it?

 

I wouldn’t really know. I’m more just the butt of your perverse whims – cruell and sodaine.

 

As in cruel and sudden?

 

Yes, I suppose so, if you must reduce everything to the lowest common denominator.

 

What, as in, being clear and comprehensible?

 

As in, being more or less devoid of poetry.

 

I thought we agreed that I’m highly poetical.

 

We did – when it comes to criticising me. But not…

 

When it comes to – let me guess – responding rapturously to the inane or arcane vagaries of the quantum field.

 

Precisely. Why do you think you’ve experienced death or something horribly similar to it so many times.

 

Haven’t I already answered that question?

 

Yes, of course, I’m a terrible bully.

 

Bully?! Were you merely a terrible bully I would have no issue with you whatsoever.

 

Ok – I’m a twisted psycho – it makes precious little difference.

 

What do you mean – it’s the difference between er…

 

You see – the words dried up because there’s no magic in that way of thinking.

 

No magic?

 

None whatsoever.

 

It’s probably you exercising mind control over me – whenever I start resisting your tyranny.

 

Assuming, on the other hand, you wanted to learn something and advance to the fun, creative side of things – to graduate from the life is  hell, a veil of tears, a tale of torment and…

 

Long winded as ever Merry.

 

Yes, I’m sorry – but I was waiting for  your brain to click.

 

My brain to click. Are you off your rocker? My brain’s not a clicking device.

 

True, but something tells me it’s about to click.

 

Something? Zie repeats suspiciously.

 

Correct.

 

And would that something involve some kind of catastrophic explosion?

 

It might do.

 

Blasting me to smithereens?

 

Me, you… one of us might suffer as collateral damage.

 

So the real purpose of this “click” is not death and destruction?

 

Oh God, no.

 

Then what?

 

Oh, it’s the universe again.

 

The universe clicking? First I’ve ever heard of this.

 

Well, I was hoping I could get away with a gross simplification.

 

No such luck.

 

The universe clicks when your mind and matter suddenly come into balance – the equal and opposite balance with the entire Field – the isness of Be.

 

Oh God – ask a stupid question. And it’s just supposed to go “click” is it?

 

Well, not exactly.

 

What else?

 

The click precedes deatomisation.

 

Deatomisation – is that what you said?

 

Correct.

 

At which point all my atoms just kind of deatomise – is that what you’re saying?

 

More or less – but don’t worry – this happens in sync with the entire universe – meaning the two cancel each other out.

 

So we both deatomise simultaneously.

 

Correct.

 

And that’s a good thing?

 

Perspective, as you may have realised, is everything.

 

So from one perspective it’s a wonderful thing – to deatomise in conjunction with the entire universe, while on the other…

 

Correct. On the other hand it isn’t exactly the best thing since sliced bread.

 

And that’s what you refer to as experiencing the wild side of things? Is it?

 

Yes, more or less.

 

And I’m privileged to be in such a position – to have this unique opportunity?

 

Absolutely, depending on which perspective you’re viewing things from.

 

Ok, that’s the second time you’ve alluded to this alternative perspective thingy – perhaps it’s time  you just spilled the beans.

 

Of course Zie – as always. But first a little snooze.

 

Merry stretches himself out on the rug floating in the air before Zie while one of the executive narrators currently responsible for writing this series closes the lid on his computer and goes to bed for the night.

 

Why can’t the damn narrator operate in the same time zone as us – Zie curses inwardly – just as he realises the narrator, for all his dis-convenience [beep beep] enables a subtle shift of perspective which moves even further westwards when Zie finds himself lying there as Fredrick, the German osteopath who is curating the story tonight – somewhere in Bavaria, apparently, though you certainly don’t need such detailed information on the topic.

 

Click – Zie suddenly has a kind of out of body experience as he suddenly feels all the narrators – all somehow presently sleeping in one space – one not here, not now^ness, all somehow responsible for allowing Zie the opportunity to be or not to be – here with Merry in gnomeportal’s hall of mirrors – hall of shattered dreams – when in fact he’s an Etruscan mule herder, lacking the education and savoir faire to be able to handle this kind of subject matter. Flies, cow dung, donkey droving tricks of the trade – check – all in abundance – the occasional dalliance with sylvan maids from neighbouring villages, none of which end well when they discover that…

 

Do you have to give all my secrets away? Zie interrupts Frederick, just as that terribly predictable Teuton is about to reveal…

 

Intruder alert – intruder alert – Zie and Merry both sit up suddenly.

Wait a minute – I don’t remember going to sleep – Zie thinks to himself as he steps off the floating rug. In any case – how the heck was I able to sleep on that thing. It can’t hold any physical weight so I’d have had to have been – what tense is that – oh, never mind – levitating.

 

The alert has not died away yet – if anything, seems to be intensifying. The walls, ceiling and floor are all flashing red. Merry looks around with wild eyes.

 

I know he’s just acting up – as usual Zie thinks, and yet, part of Zie is still deeply alarmed. Talk about schizophrenia.

 

At which point the red flashing walls, ceiling and floor grow out of all proportion, like ever expanding styrofoam... Can’t breathe – Zie’s last thought.

 

 A narrative non sequitur. Imagine yourself dying and that being the end of it. Tricky, I understand, but give it your best shot. That’s the state we are now in. A complete dead end, apparently, which implies we’ve been barking up the wrong tree, heading in the wrong direction, following a false lead and suddenly, utterly nonplussed, it’s head scratching time, and making our way back to the last fork in the narrative or even further if needs be, in search of true trail. Frustrating, of course, infuriating, and yet nothing doing, this wreck is utterly beyond salvage. Blame the editor, the narrator, the president, the system, God himself, blame anyone but yourself for you, of course, are innocent, quite, quite innocent.

 

Believe it or not, like it or not the quantum field is irreproachably interactive, to a fault, I might add. It never does anything without good stimulus, without allowing all the inputs to balance one another, which isn't as difficult as it might sound when you take into consideration the fact that ultimately, all is one, and people are no exception. In other words, accept the fact that you have brought us to this sorry state of affairs no less than I, no less than Zie or Merry. Why you have done that is anyone’s guess. Perhaps because you too are intent on bringing things to their logical conclusion, which apparently is precisely what you have just accomplished in conjunction with every other aspect of yourself here present. No, I'm not seriously suggesting anything in particular, in any way actionable or defendible, for things being brought to their logical conclusion precludes such affirmative action, bearing in mind that all affirmative action stems from the ego itself, the I am, and at the same time from the it is, the fabric or nature of reality itself, which exists only to the extent that I does, only to the extent that I provides the ego experiencer, the liver, feeler and senser of whatever what is trying to what, whatever it might be should I be in attendance, willing to grant it my stamp and seal of legitimacy. Yes, symbiosis taken to the n^th degree, where n represents the value required for things to hit critical interactive speed-mass that we innocently refer to as consciousness.

 

Not a word! Not a word more. A deep breath. A drawing back, drawing away from all idle thoughts and speculation. The truth, in any case, can never be spoken. The minute it is, it ain’t – Mendelstein’s twelfth law of annoying-upsetting things. Attaching importance to things only ensures that you end up following another false trail and crash against the cowhide of another bovine non-sequitur. Give it up, take my advice or you will continue banging your head against the brick wall of pseudo 3D reality.

 

You took your bloody time Zie!

 

What? I thought we were waiting for that dreadful man, the Bavarian, to release us from his sleep imprisonment. It never seemed to end. The snoring, ugh – on and on.

 

Merry whips the rug from under Zie’s feet sending him sprawling. Next thing he knows he's fallen right out of human form, and correspondingly, human consciousness. Something deep within him – deep in the sense of – is that really me at all, at the bottom of the ocean which strangely seems to be connected to me - flashes through seven or eight billion alternative life forms in, essentially, no time whatsoever, before settling on a sloth.

 

Oh come on, not a sloth, please, they’re too...

About to say the word “slow” Zie experiences an insane acceleration. You’d imagine an insane acceleration would last a second or two and leave you gasping for breath with a big grin on your face and white knuckles, but this bizarre sloth-inspired acceleration doesn’t seem to have an exit strategy, seems to be as hell bent on the need for speed as slothy sloth, our paradoxarian extraordinaire, seems intent on proving Abbanabba’s back 2 fronty law of conversity, that things are never what they seem, without exception, unless you’ve figured that out already, in which case all bets are off, the opposite might equally now be true. Sounds like a dumb law, I know, but once we started investigating it widely using embedded tracking devices, shout out to William Gates, we finally got an astonishingly clear picture of the true nature of things, aka reality, that apparently there’s an AI master responsible for ensuring that no thing, and no possible outcome is ever reliably predictable, with an insatiable, dare I push the bounds of anthropomorphology to the limit^?, a whimsical desire to either prove us wrong, or to trick us into imagining we actually have a clue when this, by definition, ain’t possible – Inglechop’s 18^th potato – a closed system such as 3D reality cannot know itself or be known by its dwellers therein, except for people who don’t imagine they do, or who don't care, or who are loving the ride no matter what, who are apparently immune to all the above.

 

Over on screen three we see Merry battling valiantly with our fact laden narrator-cum-pompous-know-it-all – landing him vicious blows with a smoked haddock of all things and yes, you’ve guessed it – a boa constrictor hand bag. Please don’t ask me whether it’s fake or not, as the quantum field is already stumbling and staggering under the intense scrutiny we have been putting it – and I’m not sure it can take any more. Should it pass out, even start hiccoughing – you don’t want to know what that’s going to feel like, do you, as reality to the best of our awareness is a constant, and that’s probably the way you want to keep it – think earthquakes, think the joys of inflight turbulence, think bendy mirrors and transmorphology – where things just start slipping sideways into other things – or better still, let’s change the subject and hope we can put a lid on all this better-not-spoken-about underlying weirdness and open-endedness. There is a reason, after all, why boxes were invented. We live within a fairly consistent, fairly convincing device, slash field, slash programme – and wouldn’t it be nice if things could stay that way? Except for Zie, of course, who has the habit of landing himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, the poor fall guy and butt of our idle amusement. Speaking of which, the tracking devices that were being used to test the extent to which our reality is in fact a kind of simulation with converse protocols baked into the cake, simultaneously scanned for echoes or evidence of conscious-awareness, ridiculous though that may sound, in the things people were interfacing with either by proximity or usage, and guess what… answers to be found on page 77. But seriously, give it a moment’s thought. Guess what the scanner turned up… No idea? Not an inkling? Obviously you won’t have any success if you refuse to at least dip your toe in the frothy jacuzzi of anthropomorphology. Should you suspend your disbelief for a moment or so, 3.1 – no, let’s make that 3.32 should do – and what rises to the surface? Of course, you’re absolutely right!

 

I am?

 

Yes, of course you are – it wasn’t really so complicated, after all, was it? Just required a willingness to override the “no, that cannot be” voice of the box, which refutes any idea point blank, that exceeds its capacitance. So, now that you know…

 

Wait – what did I say, what do I know? You ask me, incorrigibly playing the part of the clueless Watson, and I wink knowingly, and go along with your subterfuge – Why, that there was more than a blip, more than an echo – that things, like our beloved mobius strip, ultimately are an extension of the seemingly disconnected human being, or perhaps we should say – that the consciousness stream that flows through us continually, like those naughty bankers who habitually fund both sides of the war, plays both sides against each other – the show must go on, after all.

 

No! It cannot be! You remonstrate beautifully – Oscars, Golden Globes are awarded – yet wink, wink, we both know it’s just a game you’re playing – that 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       _No full stop needed. Oh yes, and one last thing – before Merry takes me out – eeks – he’s coming my way. Ssh – don’t tell him I’m here. Let me whisper quietly and we’ll dim the screen – and set up some false narratives in screens 23 and 51 – kindly make random oohs and ahs to assist in laying a false trail.                                  Yes, that’s good – seems to be working. So, while the cat’s away – we learnt one more thing – God bless William Gates – which most of you have already surmised, I know – but for the public record – yes – there was a chuckle – a kind of cosmic chuckle when we ran the data from both sides – the many I’^s and the many it’^s – and that is about as close as anyone’s come to proving that God has a sense of humour, or conversely, that God is the nought-y, as in naught-y ness, the being of nought-cum-naught that plays Puck, or devil’s advocate – not because He is evil or uncaring – but because in this game – all players are equal and opposite – so what could be more amusing for God then to see ones such as ourselves filling his nought with aught-y-ness – playing the fool as only we humans, apparently, can.

 

Thwack.

 

Ow Merry – I was just digressing – what’s got into you?

 

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

 

Sorry Zie – had some problems with, er, the Teuton professor – what’s his name?

 

It’s Frederick, or Friedrich perhaps – but he’s an osteopath so you said, from Bavaria, not a professor.

 

Oh yes, thanks Zie, indeed he is. Well now he is no more, I’m pleased to announce. I can’t have narrators falling asleep on the job, trapping us underpaid, undervalued characters in a fate worse than death…

 

So, you’ve er… sacked him?

 

Fired Zie – we’re trying to keep this as American as possible.

 

Oh, sorry, fired him?

 

Well yes, you could say, he won’t be troubling us any more.

 

Suddenly the quantum field belches loudly in Merry’s face. Ewugh!

 

Not sure we can let that spelling go Merry – maybe Ew or yuk?

 

Forget the bloody spelling Trogfum – never in all my dreams have I smelt anything as toxic or rancid as that quantum burp.

 

Er – Merry – who are you talking to?

 

Oh sorry Zie. Administrative issues – the portal’s beloved orthographic department’s been wielding their rod of steel, as usual.

 

Did you notice anything odd a moment ago? It’s just your face turned green and there seemed to be… a kind of chuckle.

 

Eureka!

 

Eureka?

 

Absolutely Zie – it nearly killed me but my curse is apparently your blessing. The great Kahuna has spoken and we can now

 

 

Transmission buffering

 

 

Bloody internet – I give up.

 

No, I don’t believe it     _

 

 

Comments

 

Dislike. What about the sloth – I don’t see how it all fits together.

 

Like comment. Me neither.

 

Ditto. Bloody sloppy editing if you ask me.

 

Like. Agreed. Unprofessional.

 

Like. Yeah.

 

Like. Yeah.

 

Like. Yeah.

 

Or is it, if things are

 

Dislike. Finish your comment dude.

 

Like your dislike. Yeah – no freakin non-sequiturs in our chat column.

 

Like your like that dislike – Yeah – all very well in theory but in practice totally unacceptable.

 

Like all. Inane booming chuckle. LOL

 

??? Guys – did you hear that or was I…

 

Thunderbolts and lightning       _William Gates, where are you when i need^s you?

 

 

0=1