I’d set my alarm for Now, and it had gone, as described, so I upped, as necessary. Pausing only to sip on a PowerJuice® I embarked and began, the flow led me towards Mash, in Logovila. A big swine was going down, seeping. My job, such as it was, was to ease its stupor, and for this, I required a tardis. Having entered the reverential code of confidence, the entry slipped and I was forth, spread across the problem like a one-being solution. I smiled, which isn’t easy when you’re being spread across a problem, although it was actually quite an amenable problem, we had met before, these encounters had by way of a ritual about them. Ritual writ large, and with social consequences.
Who am I to care about consequences? Here’s a pillar, suffering, righteous, full and tottering, and if I don’t attend to it, I won’t attend to it and the vibrations will cause an event, much like creation, but not as good or as longlasting. Time, I suggested, for some monotony. Interesting times, indeed.
The judge sat me down, where I was resting, and began his instruction, regarding me as he regaled me, interpreting me as he introduced me to the subject I was to occupy that day. Metapillars were needed to counteract some very obvious dangers, many of which were manifesting internally in all sorts of interesting ways… remember, we’re aiming for tedium! At least you know what will happen with it. So I was to be the foreman on the Metapillar Construction Ethos, a new team of engineers with skills so obvious we should brook no bargaining. Don’t let the ice in…
The Redundant Architects™ have been moaning again, it seems… they knew the nanobuilders were coming, and they could have got on board, but no, they insisted their outmoded ‘Innovative Technique’ was the right way for building buildings, even though most of us had cottoned on to the fact that universal harmony was better adhered to, so designing builders that could be naturally attuned to such harmony seemed the most reasonable way of achieving these effects. Why they still insist on training these new architects who will never design a real building.. I overheard some of these talking the other day. They tell of a fantastical island in the middle of the ocean where human beings design a building before its built! Yes! And these are the rationalists…
“You’re on,” I said to your honour, just as he was leaving.
“You’re just swapping one kind of hassle for another, and calling it progress,” he replied, in the shape of a wandering interlocutor, dressed as an agitator, acting like a riot.
“So you say. I’m off hunting for buried pleasure.” I love a good ritual parting, and began my treatment. Today, we dowse with the electronic tonic, that which renders us not as we would otherwise be, but isn’t everything? By which logical proximity we can but surmise: all is as it should be, except for that which isn’t, and maybe not even that. I am not to say, for I don’t know, as knowledge is only transiently useful. I ordered the cringe, hardback edition, publishers discretion, subject to criticism – no work of art is complete without the stain of criticism. Fuck the purists, they have such sweet orgasms, god I want to fuck a purist.
Soundbergs 