"We are small, but the universe is not."
A voice told him as a herd of Triceratops, hundreds of them, raced by in syncopated rhythm to the song "Wingsuit" by Phish which was streaming on his cranial feed. It was a spectacular sight. The thought occurred that it was almost like being there, almost like the real thing, but he knew such thoughts were a waste of time. For this was his reality--50 yard line seats for eternity.
"As long as you keep moving, you comfort your sense of proportion."
Not wanting to hear the voice, he adjusted his concentration to mid-alpha wave pattern 32-14ax. The dinosaurs disappeared. The display returned to the background default of the Orion Nebula. Phish kept playing
"Enjoying yourself son?"
I am not going crazy, you're just the voice of my subconscious. I don't have time to waste trying to figure out what unresolved psychological conflicts give rise to all this, and I am not going to listen to what you have to say.
"Why do you not wish to hear what can be heard so easily and therefore deny hearing anything at all?"
"Why do you not wish to see what can be seen so easily and therefore deny seeing anything at all?"
"Why do you not wish to feel what can be felt so easily and therefore deny feeling anything at all?"
You think that if you keep repeating it, I will pay attention? What am I doing talking to a voice in my head anyway? He returned to his monzu training remembering that this voice, like all patterns of thinking represent the bittersweet human compulsion toward repetition and completion.
"You are doing fine, your thoughts are nothing more than meaningless clouds passing across an endlessly blue sky."
What can I do to rid myself of this infernal voice?
He switched the display to random. He was now in a courtroom pressing a case against an insurance company for breach of contract. His client, lets call him "Mr. X" had procured a life insurance policy on a spider. The spider, named George, was a male golden orb weaver. At the death of the spider, the insurance company was supposed to pay Mr. X $4000. Which was all well and good I supposed. Only one problem--how to prove that the spider had died? Never fear, it was simple deduction. The date of the life insurance policy showed that the Mr. X purchased it over 10 years ago. Indeed, Mr. X forgot about the policy and only rediscovered it in an old box from his prior homestead. Obviously if Mr. X forgot about the insurance policy, he would have also forgotten about the spider and could not prove that the spider had died. However, in his closing argument to the jury, he eloquently pointed out that the average male spider (who is not a tarantula) lives at most 2 years and that it would have been scientifically impossible for George to still be alive. Then in a masterstroke he tugged on the juries heartstrings which the final thought that Mr. X had paid premiums to the insurance company for the policy which adjusted for inflation would have totaled more than ten thousand dollars thus the life insurance policy was, in retrospect, a poor investment for Mr. X and it would be grossly inequitable to allow the insurance company to retain both the premiums and the death benefits.
"Bravo, bravo....you are quickly becoming one of my favorite archetypes, I think I will call you the bored attorney"
Concentrate, breath, the voice will eventually go away.
"No, you have it all wrong. I'm ending the program. You're next version will be much more interesting, I promise."
Never worry about what other people think of you, because no one ever thinks of you.
No comments:
Post a Comment