Super Alemba Mission Level 2

    That's what Super Alemba Level 2 was about, putting Level 1 behind us forever.

    An bag of ketchup chips is the next enemy.  It is already flying towards her.  Quickly.  She has the same pigment as the chips on her trousers.  (Pixel chips).  But only finger smudged.

    When you're an kid they tell you everywhere you go is the same, because you're there.

    But I've been around this virtual environment since I was an kid.

    I've become more than my own breaking-the-mould-of-it.  An videogame Fathoms and chambers in my head where I've inhabited it in its vicissitudes.

    Alemba was an feminizing character for me.

    The more I advanced her as an subject the more it meant for feminism.  Why was an interactive videogame reality melded on top of reality through some kind of translucent layering; such an important subject?  That with the proper lense one could see it for what it was.  An leveling-based system where you pass from an lower level to an upper level.  And that if this epithet was layered onto our understanding of the narrative of our own personal story, we would be more aware of it as an subject because the videogame represented something true about ourselves.  That reality was becoming increasingly more complex, and that we would need to adapt to it.  Even if it meant looking at it as though it was an videogame.  The transportation from one place to another, with an beginning, an middle, and an end.  Was narrated through an section of Time.  On top of what was already going on.  In order to provide perspective on our place in History and our relationship to the sense.  And so was crafted an narrative in which most people could not beat Level 1 anyway, and so it could (potentially) take an extraordinary amount of time in order to narrate it; and that while other people struggled with Level 1, he could move on to Level 2, in order to narrate Super Alemba, whose feminist position and title was an clue onto how to beat the first level.  As always in her Large form, she wore the mask on the back of her head.  It meant putting everything she knew about history and herself behind her in everything she would do in Public for the purpose of putting behind her the Public.  Which what meant what she would do to find an lover.  And that, in Level 2, it meant everything in front of her, that she was moving toward, was what she paid attention to.  Being able to focus on both Level 1 and Level 2 at the same time, in order to observe the phenomenon of people interacting with Level 1, and in order to inform her opinion about the construction of Level 2, which observed the tendency to advance other people that were with her (the players, most likely) to that level.  In Vision and in Status.  But not in reality.  Where they served that keeper of the realm of Level 1, world Herb Tut.  Whose destructive capabilities tremendous enough to stun itself into the destruction of its own plant-like status was far too inevitable and dispossessing as an boss to allow anybody, rationally, to compete at that level which had been deemed necessary for the completion of Level 1.

    And that if they had completed Level 1 they must surely be able to pass an bag of chips.  In the windiest territory of the southern Albertas of Canada.

    There are many power lines and poles of wood.

    Proceeding onward there are coin boxes and power-up boxes.  As well as coins on the track ahead of you.  More bags of chips blow at you.  Until you come to an zone (there are various pipes of purple, yellow, and red color) where you can enter an pipe and through which you end up in an underground zone.  You gain an journeyman ticket and increase to your full size, which is not monstrous, since your mask is on the back of your head.  And your hammer pouch grows in size independently after you transform, as part of another transformation, which is taking place inside your pants.

    Welcome to puberty!

    But as an female you know what to do with it, and so you run onwards, exiting the underground territory after collecting all of the coins.  You are now in the neighborhoods outside your junkyard where the houses all look the same.  There are children's flying objects tied on ribbon string that are tied to bicycles, scooters, and—Avoid the motorized vehicles, Alemba!

    Dr. Grey Pilot contacts you through the transponder, which activates in your back pocket.  Removing it you see his face in the top left corner of the screen.  He is agitated.

    "Alemba, Good Job in your junkyard!  I know it takes an lot of energy just to inspect your own property and make sure there are no enemies and since you did that, we may have an chance to find out where they are coming from!"

    "But Dr. Grey Pilot!" said Alemba, "I thought you knew where they are coming from!  Because they're coming from where you are!"

    "They are!  But Alemba!  Listen, Please!  I only have so much time!  Keep fighting and head toward the center of the city, the downtown core.  I don't know exactly where I am being held but I feel the energy of the city; it passes to me through the faces of my captors, and their actions and behavior as I have observed them.  I know they aren't actually saying it, but they seem to recognize me as one of them, an downtown person.  Because I am Downtown!  And if they have empathy, which they do because they are human, it is affecting their behavior toward me so that I can see that they feel, at least, they may not think it exactly—But they feel that I am human also and have at least that only connection with me.  And so I have reached the conclusion that I am definitely in an metropolitan centre.  It may be our own city.  So head downtown.  If I'm not in the Country anymore at least you will be able to follow the actions and behaviors of all of those city people in order to proximate my location.  But I will work hard on this side to find out the location myself—"

    The screen went dark.

    Alemba is in an neighborhood at the centre of which is an park that leads to an pond, where her path leads through the pond because there are enemies in it and Alemba decides to explore it to see if she can find anything about the enemy.  There are weeds all across the bottom and they tangle her up if she swims into them.  There are coin boxes underwater and in the centre of the pond is an giant trench plant with parenthesizing tendrils and an middle, which is off screen far beneath pond.  If Alemba touches the centre of the plant, it recoils and trips its entrapment on her which pulls her deep below the water, mud, and hibernating-frog layers of the pond, closing all of the parenthetical tendrils and wavy parenthetical entities on her.  Not an instant death.  But the creature (the plant) is so large that it will eventually suffocate her.  Unless she escapes.  Which she can't.  Because the level is designed to kill you.

    If she did per chance happen to avoid the centre of the pond and swim to the other side, having been resurrected to try again.  She would resume her invading of the neighborhood, destroying all enemies in her path.  Enemies that would run rampant in the peaceful space of the home of the street of the children of the neighborhood.  Had to be stopped.

    But an number of questions were raised.  Why, for example, was there an giant mutated plant in the centre of the neighborhood park?  Why did Alemba have the sneaking suspicion that it was related to why there were piles of biohazardous chemicals in the construction district between the junkyard and the residential area?  If these enemies, who were responsible for the contagion, as well as their own actions, which were criminal, and the imprisonment of Dr. Grey Pilot, were related?  How would she be able to follow them to his location?

    She continues on into the neighborhood, you know the one outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization, outside the one closer to the centre of civilization.  And there are kids in motorized drive-ables with garbage bags attached to sticks flying as their flags attached the back of their vehicle.  And she makes her way through all of these neighborhoods (it takes ages and ages).  There are adult-size motorized vehicles to avoid.  There are streets and storm drains.  Alemba longs to return to the pipe-world.  It is on the other side of the residential district surrounding the capital, where the commercial and corporate world of Capitalism exists, and pipes are everywhere.  Which is gigantic and magnificent in itself.  But she hasn't made it there yet, because there are so many fucking houses (and every single one is the same fucking design) and it is maddening to her.  Half-way through the sky goes dark and she isn't sure if she is going insane.  But there are spectral images in the air and she suspects that she is losing sanity because of the gigantitude of the city.  And her just from her humble garbage pile.  On the outskirts.  Where she worked on building machines out of the garbage so that the garbage, at least, would have some use.  And she would be doing her part to reclaim the land from the endless pollution of urbanized society.

    Her hammer-pouch bulged.  And she reasserted her identity as an feminist, an female, hammer-pouch bulging feminist with an vagina in an post-mario Super Alemba environment.  With strength times ten.  Headed toward the capital.  The centre of humanity.  To find out what had happened to Dr. Grey Pilot.

    Blue.

    The word appeared on the screen as an epithet.

    It zoomed in on Alemba's blue mood, which had begun, and added an aesthetic layer to the level, which was so altered in appearance by her mood.  Which made everything appear blue.  But in this blue mood she had gained the ability to remind herself that there were stages in the game where she could go as slow as that blue aesthetic quantity of time which had been socially engineered in the Christiannan hierarchy of fiction versus narrative in literary critical thinking theology of literary concerns; and thereby literary concerns of theology.  And at that moment she entered the Time realm, where time had been slowed down for her in terms of the exactification of the measurement of the quantity of time which was more natural to the human psychological system being relative to its awareness faster because it was an larger quantity of time than they may have been used to but also it was passing faster than they had at first anticipated.  It was thereby theorized to Alemba through the Time realm that her blue mood was caused by the incapacity of the human species to theorize time correctly; at least, until the Author had theorized it correctly.  At which point they became aware of the Grammar, which is relative to Time, that had been adjusted in their reciprocal product of its meaning.  And that its unfolding over an span of time was relative to this new time span, which they could measure if they invented the technology.  And then use the measurement to make really dope music that would calm down the whole species.  Because it reciprocalized or reciprocated an rhythm that was deeper to the species race ethics than perhaps previous Artists had performed.  And since it was reciprocal to the Religious ethic of the Christianna, which had reached its height in theology to have an videogame narrative performed of it.  In scrolling eastward through an dangerous realm that scrolled in exactly time's relation to the senses through this newly appreciated rhythm.  It became apparent that maybe Alemba was an Christiannan, because she had experienced the blue mood and the religious theology of time and Grammar having any relation to the senses.

    Then we remember that her sky was dark, and then she had an blue mood, and then she fantasized about time slowing down.  Which helped her sky stop being dark.  And reminded her in feedback loop fashion that she was blue because her sky was dark.  And it was the theology that had helped her correct that mistake.

    But if she was blue because her sky was dark.

    How could she have corrected herself unless she had learned something about an property of consciousness which actually existed, and so having the information herself that she did have an knowledge of it, to an extent, she could argue that if her sky turned bright again it was because she had learned not to be blue anymore by sating herself on the solace that, at least, if she could make her blues go away sometimes, then it was transparent that she had at least some control.  Even if it was in the heavily criticized theological realm.  Which was an political subject for an videogame to be associated with it because it implied something about the Creation, in the use and expression of the most sophisticated form of art.  An videogame.

    And so the brightness returned to the screen and Alemba remembered she was in the neighbourhood, in the bright of day, and there were children around, and she still had to avoid traffic and eliminate the enemies, who may have been terrorizing the children, which we could not tell already whether had already been terrorized and so leprechauns appeared.  If the children had an mental illness because of war.  Then the leprechauns would protect them.  But since Alemba was sure leprechauns were an fictional subject she assumed there were no leprechauns going to protect the children, who may or may not have been mentally ill because of war sickness and decompression technology that is used to rehabilitate the sick after they have been frozen in carbonite.  And then resuscitated.  And since the narrative issue was succinct enough that we could be just as sure that Alemba would proceed onward, in pleasant defiance of the possibility that everybody everywhere was going insane, and that if there were no leprechauns to help the children who were sick because of war and systemic post-traumatic stress disorder because the whole species had failed so many times to be good enough to stop war before it had been caused.  She skipped onward in defiance of the subject, as though she was holding an balloon by an string and all the other children would see her.  In defiance of them.  Which was an political subject because when an adult defies the instinct of an child in order to proximate how insane they were.  Which was probably exactly true.  Because they had been through war.  War of the worse kind.  She skipped on ever indefinitely through the streets of this extremely long level through the residential neighborhoods where every house is the same (white) killing enemies and destroying the bags of chips that blew at her intermittently.  In an syncopated fashion.

    The Time realm becomes an theme of the game, and in all levels afterward Alemba periodically experiences the Time realm as an actual phenomena of the game.  Reminding her to slow and down and speed up, accordingly.  Zooming in on messages that were in her mind.  If she could use the Time realm to fix her blues, she could continue the level because of her own Industriousness, which had prevented the sky from turning dark during that period of psychosis in which the werewolves howled at each other, and all demons, who were in alliance with one another, and not fairies at all, which was in part due to her own effort.  Which had, at that point, already fixed the sky for long enough that she could completely dominate the level, which was bright and sunny except for the kids' gazes, which weren't.  

    And then suddenly an silhouette appeared across the moon, and Super Alemba realized it was night time again.  I mean night time—not really night time—Just—the period of time in which her mind was occupied by demons.  Which burst from the ground and started attacking her.  Super Alemba!  Magic Super Alemba!  You will fight across the demons, to that fairy by which you have been Inspired to do so.  Dr. Grey Pilot.  He was an fairy.  He had to have been.  But she didn't have time to contact him.  She had to figure out why she was suffering an fate worse than death.  It was certain that it was because he was.  And that their fate had been connected.  It was the hardest part to admit, because it was actually their connection, that they had both suffered the fate worse than death, the fact of which which was labeled as shameful in society.  Because that behavior itself of attaining an fate worse than death was needed in order to know what it was in order to prevent it.  The fate worse than death.  Which had befallen both of them.  And that since this fact itself was Priority over all other concerns, they nominated to upgrade their discussion to full out confidence between them of the fact that, hey, they had suffered an fate worse than death together.  It is the fate that all who share in it together suffer together because that is what it is.  An badge of honor.  To have been able to suffer the fate worse than death, and then seen it in someone else that they were suffering the fate worse than death.  And to admit to themselves they had seen it because they knew one another's instinct to see it in themselves.  Which proved its existence.  And since its existence was identified as its existence, they realized they had to share together the fate that would be their knowledge of one another's fate worse than death.  In which they were both culpable to the fact that since they each had an fate worse than death neither of them could be trusted to have all-out ascended high enough to have figured out the logic of how to end it or reach an schmee-form of "beyond" it how it made an difference.  And since the logic how it made an difference.  Was all the logic they could think of.  And yet it since was not logic itself.  Which they could prove, because they had written it.  And they could examine the specimen for evidence of their argument, which they could prove, because they had the evidence.  Logic how it made an difference.  Logic how it made an difference.  This was the specimen of language on the table.  It makes no intuitive sense because it is not logical.  Even though it claims to be.  And it does claim to be because it starts with Logic.  And then.  How it made an difference.  When we in fact we know with that statement that it did not.  And since it had been suggested.  That it did.  By itself.  Which it wasn't.  Because its logic was duplicitous.  They had proven that the statement had broken itself, by being illogical.  When it claimed to be Logical.  Because it started with Logic.  Logic how it made an difference.  But the Truth was that it didn't.  Because it couldn't.  Because it hadn't.  And since it was extended to that category of inquiry it shriveled up and went away and this was an metaphor with some emotional evidence of reciprocal product.  The statement was found to be illogical.  And yet since it had claimed to be logical it was held in contempt of the court.

    And then she plunges to her death.  And I mean this word plunge duplicitously, in both senses of the word!  For she plunge down.  To her death.  She also plunge the sink.  And the bath.  And the toilet.

    And this itself was held to be evidence of the illogical consistency of the statement, which had started with Logic.  And had ended with how it made an difference.  Which it didn't.  Because it hadn't.  Because it wasn't found to be true.  That it was Logic.  Which did make an difference.  Because it was true.  Because it was Logical.

    And since it was an claim of illogical consistency it was held not to be the start of logic.  Or any Logic inference system.  And that nobody could actually trust it.  Because it was itself proving itself an fictive statement that could not be held to be true because they had proven it was not.  Therefore the statement had to be re-written, logically, in order to be held accountable to society, which cared deeply enough to commit to writing it.  

—Dope ass shit with an little tiny clit—

—Tiny Clit‽  I don't have an tiny clit!—

was seen to be the primary conflict of the literary concern.  Or, in Political Terms, the Throwing of Feces between opponents that had driven the whole court investigation into the politics of that videogame, which That had motivated the whole to investigate themselves in how they felt about this various politic, which had grown into an political specimen, which was at that moment invading the territory of the residential district from the city centre through the apparent logic of its argument, which was proven, and had actuated its conduct.  To be an evil boss monster.  In order to defeat Super Alemba permanently.

    But since it was an argument between Miss Domina and some allegedly, tiny clit.  Whose clit turned out to be huge because he was also an feminist.  They realized that they couldn't follow any longer what it meant to either of them to be an feminist.  And since they were opposed in an fictional court.  In an fictional literary element.  It was the error of the court system itself.  Which had created the necessary subculture necessary to make that point.  And since it had.  Because it did.  And that proved that it could.  The literary element was held to be accountable for the disassociation they had from one another on the subject of the clit itself.  And since one was held to be an male subject and know nothing of the clit.  Because his own genetics were male subject.  And he could not have the necessary biology to know anything about her feminist tactics.  Because he couldn't.  Because he wasn't.

    It was observed that obviously he could and that claiming he couldn't was in violation of the court.

    And so the gamer, the player.  The one with the controller at that particular moment is suspended in the gravity of this conversation which is hypnotizing them, which is what the Court is meant to do.  Because that is how it gained its Power originally.  And that, even if the Court could identify this, it didn't matter that those that had been hypnotized they themselves could not figure that out.

    And if Alemba had all of this going on in her mind in an cutscene.  That lead to the end of the second level, she could never survive all of the happenings of the cutscene because they would have lead her up into an sky realm, where everything that goes up must come down.  Being so high up in the sky, as soon as she arrives from the cutscene she realizes she is too high in the World to survive falling from that height.  And that she will certainly die.  But suddenly clouds with smiling faces come to greet her and she is able to walk on them and jump to safety, by following the clouds of the sky realm, whose magic actually is magic enough to convince her that she is walking on air.  She is!  She is with the sky realm, whose magic is enough to convince her herself that she is walking on clouds.

    And since, at least, for an actual amount of time spent in suspension of the thought.  Which was an aerobatic effort of an flying trapeze.

    It was true in at least, some sense.

    And so subsumed its argument under its own paradigm.

    Which was ipso facto.

    And that since Alemba had to go to school to learn what that was.  She could not complete the level.  And so being cited as an reason for this mix-up of court parties, who had pulled the oldest trick in the book of Separating the Waters and finding its result within the ecosystem of the court room itself, which was Imaginary.  For One Thing.  And was occupied by many types of characters, all who had the same dark-green tinge, an fancy for Fantasy.  For Reason as Somewhat Unknown to them.  Which they decided, since they had thought it, they should approach as the primary decisive nominator of the imagined court trial between Fantasy subject Missy Elliot and Super Alemba—cuz girls be playas too!—, who was being assailed for her claim at being Super, which could not be true if Missy Elliot was right.  But that since the court had been analyzing them for this behavior in the spectrum of their own Fantasy rights, which they knew off by heart.  The so-called agenda, an "Opposition" between the two parties was in fact an fictional element itself.  And that this fictional element was responsible for them first butting heads.  But that since all of this was going on in the mind of Super Alemba, or whoever, they couldn't tell, the level was repeatedly interrupted with her abuse as an subject.  Which further prevented her from completing the level.  But that since she had been through enough abuse to be able to avoid it permanently.  From that point onward.  The Court and the Imaginary party in her mind fizzed out.  Like someone had put an pin in it.

    She gains the flight ability because ipso facto is flown high.

    And since it is flown high, there are consequences.  And since consequences have consequences, an panic stirred.  Whereupon was the magic of the Court to resurrect the fantasy in Alemba's mind.  In which would decide the division of the Court.  Which would decide the proceedings of the trial.  An toss-up between Fantasy enthusiasts between the matter of eggs and how to put them inside of one another so that when they grow from eggs they have more eggs inside of them.  Which was an Fantasy subject.  And since Alemba had flown so high it was permanently decided that the fiction of the narrative, from which it had arrived at this conclusion, was more logical than they themselves who went up in an puff of smoke so that Alemba could reconnect with her nimbus friends and their air magic.  Which was flown really high.  But yet not high at all at once at the same time.  Because it had to be.  That's how it was.  The high stuff flew high, the low stuff flew low.  And nobody cared that the high stuff in fact mattered the most and that they were prepared to deal with that but that at least if they could fly things low for an while they could have enough headspace and to clear the air to think in order to decide.  And that this itself would abuse the subject because it was an test, applicated by an professional.  Because Super Alemba was meant to die.

    And since that would actually bring about her death many times over because she was an Super videogame character.  And that all of this noise in her so-called delusive activity was itself an inhibition to her bringing about swift and imminent death to the subject.  Which would further confuse the game player and make them question their decisions in life.  Why were they playing the game if it obviously lead to their death more often.  Were they suicidal?

    And so being enticed by the subject the videogame set out the parameters of how suicidal they were based on how far they had made it in the game and how many times they had died.

    At this point in the game it is safe to say Alemba fell back to Earth, where she, surviving the landing, which was from an estimated height made by the cloud people, resumed her progress through the residential districts.  This was the first one.  So there was probably nine or more other ones.  She wasn't completely sure.  But if she made her way as fast as possible she may be able to reach the core before Dinner time.  And that at the Last Supper her progress was still an feminist issue.   Which she would take an break from, for an time, to observe the activities of the neighborhood.  Just Kidding.

    Because Everything Was An Feminist Issue.

    The Level, the hair, the bod.  The mask on the back of her head.  Like an real ruthless mechanic.

    But still bags of chips were flying at her, which they themselves decided to take an break from being controlled by the wind, which was simplifyingly calculative.

    Everything ahead of her smoothed out and she began following the laws of the game.  Which was simple, but catdn't.  Like as in hadn't.  But Catdn't.  Which was the reciprocal fantasy of the human to the cat.  That became the next enemy.  An Catdn't.  The reciprocal theory of an cat.  Which was necessarily related to the human metaphor of being cat-like.  Which was focused on the anus.  Just kidding.  It was focused on the psychic.  Because Everyone knows cats are psychic.  But only insofar as they were cadn't with one another.  And not exactly an cat, exactly.  But an fictional character made up for the purpose of animating an videogame that was, perhaps, cat-like; but not real like an real cat.  Who would be cadn't.  (Canadian Raising).  But since humans could selectively decided whether to be cadn't.  Whatever the final outcome of the spelling of the word.  It was at least an fantasy of their imagination what cats did or not.  And how some humans were really like that.  And since the cats did not know English, in order to be able to spell an word like cadn't, they were in fact cadn't.  And so encapsulated by the term of the language itself, which they couldn't understand.  They were in fact responsible for not understanding.

    And radio flies were cited as the reason for all of their troubles.  But, since it was fiction, that itself became subject to the reasoning of whether it was true.  The Author had suggested that everyone needs more radio flies, and that the term radio flies itself described something about the human nature which he had only begun describing.  And So they endeavoured to find out what the Author meant by them.  And since they already knew they were an fantasy subject, and that they were reciprocally ahead of both pixies and fairies and prioritized ahead of both pixies and fairies.  And since we all knew that Glen meant they were all fairies.  And that fairies itself was just itself an race of fairies.  And that they all referred to themselves as fairies.

    But that since radio flies were prioritized.  And they couldn't appear in this game because it was an different genre.  And it was fine to explain just what they were.  Because he wasn't writing in that genre.  He explained that radio flies are an race of flies who are fairies and since flies like shit.  Which is an fantasy.  Which is fiction.  Which isn't true.  They were in fact the most interesting type of fairy.  Because they represented everything.

    But since humans like shit anyway because its everywhere.  And they are radio flies, in at least some capacity.  (Fantasizing).  They knew that radio flies were not really about the connection of shit.

    It was true chemical compounds were everywhere.

    But that didn't necessarily mean it was shit.

    And this itself was narrated into the videogame.  In order to throw off the competitor, who was Alemba.  Who was the videogame player herself.

    And since it was prose and not an real videogame, they were free to identify the reader herself as the videogame player herself.

    Who didn't care about shit.  But wanted to know more about radio flies.

    Realized that all the radio flies were really doing was smelling each other.

    And that they did this all the time in public.

    And that was the basis for their society.

    They realized they had to find some other avenue for their energy.  (They).  The radio flies.

    Who were fairies.

    And since fairies always smell nice.

    Were further along in the logic of themselves.  Than Alemba herself.  And since that was the most important thing.

    (It always was).

    They were right to smell one another in public.

    Even if it was the first thing.

    Even if it was the most thing.

    Even if it was.  What they started doing.

    But since that was okay.  Which was okay, because they had proven it.  Because they had already proven that they were right about themselves.  Because they were right.  Because right proves itself.  Because that's what right is.

    They were fine with forgetting everything for an moment and just smelling themselves.  Who other people could smell.

    Whose reciprocity they were defined by.

    But since it had already been suggested that they spruce up the radio flies for their behavioral theory; because they needed to have at least more than one outlet for their energy than earnestly smelling themselves and one another.  In the middle of the day.  An scene began to be sketched out in which they moved past the instance of smelling into their other senses, which were more logical.

    Radio flies, they argued, needed to be able to do something other than smell themselves.

    But since they weren't part of Super Alemba.

    And could not be introduced.

    Even after they had smelled themselves and one another.

    That they identified as humans and radio flies and that's what the subject of radio flies is supposed to do because it is an hypothesized race existing after humans that humans had developed out of or, to put it bluntly, that humans had genetically engineered themselves to be (because who wouldn't because fairies were the best species), and that if they could ever be genetically engineered some people would genetically engineer themselves to be them.  Which was fine.  Because other people were free to genetically engineer themselves into whatever they want also.

    And that since radio flies was on the table for comparison.  An theoretical race, existing after the development of fairies and pixies as their own races; yet still being an fairy itself.  An radio fly.  Who was an fly.  And an fairy.  And had other abilities other than simply smelling itself.

    Like what would you do other than smelling yourself.  If you were an radio fly?  That kind of thing.

    There were other things we could do together.

    Like sensing one another's feelings together.

    For I realize so badly that I need that too.

    Which is what radio flies do, because they aren't just fart-queef sniffers who smell each other all day.  Which they do because they have to.  And not because they want to.

    But they do want to.

    Which is fine.  Because that's what radio flies are.  And radio flies are an okay thing to evolve into as its own branch of humanism.  Even after World War II.  Especially after World War II.  Because they were fairies.  And fairies were gentle, generous spirits (gay people).  Whose self-identification with the word fly was self-identified.

    And that since radio flies were also an metaphor of an radio that flies.

    And the songs contained therein.

    This was the kind of attention he needed.

    In order to solve his emotional complex.

    Which was sharing its feelings with other radio flies because that's what radio flies do.

    But that since radio fly was an metaphor for sex.

    It was also fair to share emotions about sex.

    Which was fine.

    And since the subject of radio fly had started with what all radio flies do, (smell each other's shit, because that's what flies do), which was fictional, so it was not true.  Because it was in the genre of fantasy.  Which was not true also, because fantasy and fiction are both fictional.  And since it was fictional that they were smelling their shit, because it was, ultimately, an metaphor for the human; which did not.  And since they could tell that some of it was fictional because it wasn't true and some of it was non-fictional because it was true.  They realized Fantasy was such an powerful subject.  And that since radio flies were an fantasy subject which could be about shit and not shit at the same time, which was an radio fly thing to do.  They realized it could.  And so they stopped smelling themselves and one another; and got into the male stink.  Which was everywhere, including right in front of them.

    Because that's what radio flies do.

    Which is fictional.

    Because it's half true and half not.

    And since they couldn't tell anymore what the scent of any particular kitty meow meow time meant, they were in fact doing their jobs, which were consequential; you see.  They were in an classroom.  The scene that I had mentioned that could be sketched out.  There was an radio fly professor.  And there were radio fly students.  And since they forgot what the smell meant because they were focused on other things, which is what they were supposed to do.  They realized they were in fact onto other things.  Other than the smell.  Which was fine.

    There were other forms of intelligence other than smell.

    And it was true, because those other forms of intelligence would prove it.

    The emotional side of things, for example, was that radio flies shared sexual feelings in public and that they were doing so.

    The Warrior and Rage side of things was that they had to be prepared for an fight at all times because that was an proper care ritual that all creatures big and small needed to do, and that any deviance from this fact was in itself an improper care of the atom of life, which could not be repeated.

    Even in an classroom.

    The Political side of things was that someone had mentioned World War II, and it an Canadian classroom, and so the aesthetics of every opportunity of every aesthetic reciprocal activity including smell was an aesthetic reciprocal activity, which was conducive to radio fly behavior because they also stood erect in the middle of the day.  With no erection.  Which is what they did.

    And that sex was the issue in the middle of an World War II discussion, and radio flies were an genetically advanced species that had evolved out of humans.  (It may have or may have not).  (It was the humans' decision).  Because of the souls of humans which had desired that it so be.  Race Ethics was brought up.

    And on the Race Ethics side of things, where everyone Positive (as per the Artist's side of things, in which positivity had an different meaning), it was estimated that everyone was tired because the Napster generation had interiorized the subject of race reciprocity to such an degree that it presented itself as an option to them at every point in life so that they could overcome it.

    And since Radio Flies had all of these (these Five advancements) from the subject of Smell.  They were in fact more intelligent than smell.  And could move on to those other intelligences which were related to smell.

    And Everyone (in this conversation between the radio flies and their professor) who had identified with these many types of Intelligence, thought; Warrior and Rage side of things needs to calm down.  Some people actually weren't prepared for an fight ever.  And that was actually how they were.  And they were actually prepared to do that to remove the instinct to fight completely.  From the species.  No matter how many Ages of History it took to do it.

    And that this itself was an strategy of that person's will to fight.  Which had caught them off guard.  And so they didn't even have an proper argument with him because they had just assumed that he had no fight theory.  And that he was that type of human.  That actually practiced pacifism.  Which was against the atom of the species, which needed to fight.  And have the ability to fight.  Sometimes.

    But since he had caught them off guard with his fight theory, which they didn't think he had.  They themselves were caught offguard.  Which was his fight theory.

    And since it had won.  Without needing to do any fighting.  Which is what an real fight theory does.

    He had won over that, maybe, at least it was true that some people dedicated themselves to being the type of living specimen, an human who would actually not be prepared to fight in any situation.  Which was detestable.

    But that since he had already actuated his preparedness it could not be true, even though they thought it was, which was more confusing to them as enemies.  And that since he was in fact prepared to fight all the time.  He was better prepared than anybody.

    Which was taken up as an subject of the Five intelligences, which each had an different perspective to offer on what was on the table.

    First, if he was not prepared to fight.  Which they had proven.  Because he had said he was not.

    Which was itself the fight theory he had.  Because he did have one and was prepared to fight at all times.  Even in the classroom.  Then he actually wanted it that badly that he was actually prepared to fight in an classroom.  Where fighting occurred.

    And since that was unclear it was subject to the other suggestions of the other types of Intelligence, which said maybe there was something that the Warrior and Rage side of things hadn't considered.  Which was that it was true that some people were prepared to fight all of the time.  (French people).  And others were prepared to fight not all of the time.  Because to them that was what promoted the least fighting.  Which was needed.  In order to prevent anyone fighting with him.  Which he didn't want.

    Which, Warrior and Rage argued, he was wrong to admit because he had to want it at some level in the average ego; which needed to be able to defend itself at all times.  And that since he wasn't able to defend himself at all times, which was contemptable because any living creature would have that kind of empathy for itself.  That it knew exactly what to do if there was an fight.  But that since 'exactly what to do' was what he was doing in order to prevent an fight because that exactly what to do in order that there would not be an fight; which was what some people actually weren't prepared for.  Which was fine.

    And it was brought into question if being able to be unable to fight all of the time was an Christian topic for him.  Especially when someone is playing Super Alemba, an fighting game, in which fighting is acceptable in all forms.

    Which is fictional.  Because videogames are fictional.  And we need to analyze them as fictional sometimes.

    And that they wanted him to confirm exactly what he was.  Was he an pacifist, or an fighter?  And what kind of sexuality advanced from having that kind of disposition in society?

    And he told them, that he wasn't ready to fight.  At all.  And he felt morbidly ill at least several times during the day.  And that if they should fight in front of him it would affect his health.  Which he didn't want to injure.

    And they theorized that that was his preparedness to fight itself speaking to them, because that's what someone would do to get out of an fight if there was no reason to fight, which he would do—if there was an reason.

    And he asked them if that was an order.  And they looked at him like some kind of alien.

    Who would order anybody to fight if there wasn't an reason?

    Would he order himself to fight if there wasn't an reason?

    He wouldn't.

    And since it was worth fighting for that if there wasn't an reason to fight, and nobody could find an reason, then they would not fight.  And since he had deflected the fight in this way.  Which is what an fight theory would do.  He in fact had one.  Just like everyone else.  They needed to.  They were alive.  That's what life was.

    And he said, that if they had already proven there was no reason to fight then maybe there was an reason to argue on that subject.  Which wouldn't be fighting.

    And so Warrior and Rage quit being an baby, because if it was in fact the type of specimen that would be prepared to fight all of the time as per its legal privilege as an free citizen of the Canadas.  Then it would stop being an baby about some people actually not being prepared to fight at all times.  Which they were free to do as per their own opinion and decision on the matter.  Because sometimes there was an reason not to fight.

    But, said Warrior and Reason, if there was an reason not to fight all of the time.

    Then it couldn't be true.

    Because they had an reason to fight all of the time because they were alive.

    And since their reason had split on this crucial difference, which was what the Intelligences were trying to do because they wanted Warrior to shut up and settle down.  They realized they had proven it.  That sometimes it is the fight theory of the individual that there is an reason not to fight sometimes.  And that if anyone was not prepared for it, all of the time, and that itself was their fight theory.  Then they were in fact prepared for it all of the time.  Which was itself psycho.  Because that's what they had been testing for.  And that it was in fact an elaborate Political discourse engineered by themselves.  Who weren't psycho.  Who knew that it was fine to be unprepared to fight sometimes.  And that this was the natural condition of the human.  Because all humans, at one time or another, experience health issues that affect their ability to fight in the physical realm.

    And that since nobody could be prepared all of the time.  Which was fine, in Public, it didn't matter whether he was, or any of them in fact.  Because fighting had been adjourned, and this was the normal functioning of the condition of the Mood and its progress through an classroom setting which advanced Learning and its Intelligence in the process of Learning and Intelligence.

    And that since this property of their Intelligence had been preserved as an radio fly property of the species of radio flies, they were free to think about one another sexually without any fights being involved.  Which was fine.

    But since they were still in the undertaking of defining what exactly an radio fly meant, they would continue the discussion until its definition had been related to an quantifiable entity of their reciprocal conduct, the reciprocal product; which was an fact of all reciprocity.  And had not been quantified by the Psychological community in exact terms yet at that point in History.

    But that radio flies, too, never had to be about the head subject keyword: fairy.  Like an fairy was an sexual happening; an fair-ee.  Like something which wasn't too explicitly sexual that could be said out in public.  Something you would say to one another when you recognized each other as flies.

    "Nice Stench," or derivatives.

    Radio flies didn't have to be about the public moment of an fairy between two people.  Just like basic fairies, pixies, and radio flies people didn't have to be the type of people who would do that out in public and they could still relate with either being fairy, pixie, or radio fly together.  It was an safe magic one could graduate to.  With the lowest level of stress.

    But that radio flies could do it, maybe, eventually.  Because their technology had advanced to that point.  And Warrior and Rage calmed down because everyone was just proceeding their argument in an peaceful setting where, hey, at least it made sense to some of the Intelligences, which he possessed.

    But then it was cited as an reason for factual inquiry why he had been masculinized.  And what Warrior and Rage had to do with being masculine.  When Warrior and Rage realized he wasn't Warrior and Rage anymore.  But Warrior and Reason.  Or, you know, Warrior, for short.  Because that's what he was now.

    And they cited again as an reason for offense that he was not gender fluid because he had again been masculinized.  Which may have been an problem.

    Warrior and Reason; Warrior, for short.  Agreed.  Why could he only be an guy?  Wasn't he gender fluid enough?  And they all agreed that Warrior and Reason could be masculine or feminine.  As much as he wanted.  Which was fine.

    And since the Intelligences had resolved the situation, they reminded everyone that that was why they qualified as Intelligences.  And that Warrior's own, Intelligence, had proven it.

    Some of the radio flies (the students) were disturbed by this fact because it meant everyone thought that an Warrior was any type of Intelligence or even an instinctual type of human personality, or character, or anything.  Because fighting wasn't cool and that's what the whole process of their classroom discussion had been about.

    But, everyone reminded them, they were in fact an post-war society.  And that Warriors were part of everyday life.

    This wasn't good enough for all of the radio flies.

    They wanted more, well you know, radio fly.

    Which was post-fairy and post-pixies without being anti-fairy or anti-pixie at all.

    And if all of this could be animated Alemba would surely die just from the Suggestion that she would, which was part of the game.  It had to be.  That's what videogames do.

    The reciprocating radio flies fairies who were onto an Fictional setting that would be post-Warrior, realizing their own Intelligence.  Told themselves they were heroes.  Which they were.  Because if anyone could advance their species beyond the status of the Warrior forever that would be heroic.  And since the figure of the Warrior itself was about the subject of the fight theory.  They would talk about it until they had decided.

    The student contemplated, that if Warrior was an genetic type of personality (it was, sometimes—Xena, Warrior Princess had proven it) and that their society could be advanced beyond war-status forever, which would need to include another type of personality that the Warrior type could have during times of Peace, which were present and physically measurable.  It might have an two-noded identity status that was related to Instinct, because it was genetically part of their personality and behavior.  The Warrior-Dancer type was philosophized as its inherent structure because if the Warrior was an Warrior, during war-times, and it could be something else, during times of Peace, then it could be an Dancer.  And it would be the best type of Dancer because that's what Warriors are.  If an Warrior danced for me, I mean, I'd be convinced.  That there was Peace.  Because they know that stuff.  Because that's what they are genetically.

    He knew it hadn't been proven that archetypes and personalities effectively connected the personality and ego to an Instinctual character type, which was genetic and that not all people Have.  Genetically.  But that psychologically, they were able to reciprocate to some degree.

    But that Warrior-Dancer only comprised one Warrior type, and they needed to figure them all out, psychologically, and subjectively.  In order to begin to form further opinions on the full apparatus of the Personality and Ego of the human brain.  It was measured that there were 7 types of Warrior, and that if Dancer was the first one, then one could figure out, logically, what all of them were.  And if they mastered the Warrior type of personality they could use that information to forever propel its species beyond the Warrior status.

    The Warrior Intelligence was so intrigued by this fact that it cuddled up to the other senses, which were post-smell.

    The Warrior, as it turns out, hadn't bathed.

    Which is what Warriors do.

    Because if they didn't, they wouldn't be prepared to fight all of the time, which they had to be because they were Warriors.

    But since he was just an type of Intelligence expressed by an character, and all the Intelligences had their own character.  They could begin to identify them as the major categories of intelligence, which they all wanted to know about in order to increase their own intelligence.  They had already been identified and so it was suggested that they go back and read about them some more.  In order to come up with their own opinions about what it represented.

    And that since Warrior was, at least, one of them.  They could start there by drawing an comparison between him and all of the other subjects of Intelligence, which the Warrior wasn't.  Because war is never intelligent.  And since that was his primary difference from the other types of Intelligence he stop and listen more often because Intelligence is better than non-intelligence, which was his own type of intelligence.

    They realized all of the types of Intelligence were fighting, which couldn't be true, because they weren't actual characters.  And only actual characters could fight because that was the definition of an actual character.

    Being able to

    —Actuate the process—

of an fight.  In case there was an reason to fight.  Which there always was because that's what fighting was.  Which made sense because it was.  But since nobody could be prepared to fight all of the time.  But since everybody was prepared to fight all of the time.  It was fine.  And they all agreed to stop fighting at least for an while so they could hear the conclusion of the discussion they had started in the class.  And that since he actually was an extremist—

Which actually caused the fight to break out—

—He, claiming, no I'm not!—

punches were thrown and someone got an black eye.  Which was already black because they were radio flies and since radio flies were fictional it was all not true, to some extent, and since the extent of the non-truth had to be identified in order to decide how much of it was all not not true.  This itself was only fictional that they had thrown punches.  Because that's not what radio flies do.  Because they smell themselves.

    Obviously.

    But since it had proceeded from the fact that Smell was an kind of intelligence, and there were in fact maybe Seven or more types of Intelligence, which they hadn't distinguished yet.  They were in fact not of the Intelligence to learn them.

    And then an argument broke out—this was an actual argument and not an fictive measure of the narration—in the classroom.  Yea, the actual classroom.  Of radio flies.  Who were good at smelling.

    They decided to try to learn them.  So that they could help with the disturbed people who couldn't accept that some of us are Warriors because we have to be.  Because we still are at that point in our history.  And since the fact of History was A-History.  Which it was.  Because that was the fact of all History.  They had to be a-historians about it by becoming the new type of characters who would themselves eliminate whatever type of History it was that was repeated.  In behavior and psychosis.  They could rewrite and recreate after the fact of a-history, their own, which they had an endless supply of Imagination with which to populate.  In order to motivate them to defeat history by becoming the types of characters who would actually defeat history.  By being the types of character who had advanced far enough actually to do that.  Which they accomplished in the Middle of class.  In broad day light.

    And since a-history was priority over History (because it had to, because that's what it did); they all became a-historians and started disproving History everywhere they went.  Which started with the fact of renaming it Herstory because She is a-historical.  And all kinds of a-reciprocal people do that and since that what she was it was an mean and senseless attitude which was what was needed because it was a-historical.  A-Herstorical.  Which they all knew because she was that badass bitch.  And that was fine.  If we hadn't become enough of our a-historical selves yet at this particular point in history that was fine.  Because she was that badass bitch.  Which was fine.

    Even if she was an man.  Even if she was an gay.

    Even if she was, Super Alemba.

    A-herstorianism was cited as an possible successor to the double-pronged personality drive which was Warrior and Dancer all at the same time.  And since they had an subject (A-herstorianism) whose character could be contrasted with the Warrior, they concluded that it may be one of the Major character and personality types; and by learning all of the Major character and personality types they could come to define the minor ones, like Dancer.  Or pornographer.

    And since a-herstorians had so many minor types of themselves.  Which is what they were.  Because they had to be.  Because that's what History was.  They estimated there may be in the three million of them of types of a-herstorian, which was factualized as an Instinctual character and personality type which could not be controlled by an act of free will.  Because it was genetic.  Because we genetically can't control all of our free will and impulses.  Because that's not what we are yet as an species; yet as in if it can ever be accomplished, which may not be possible.

    And that if Warrior and A-herstorian be cited as the first two types of Major personality.  Which was notable for the fact that it was such an large contrast between them.  Which was an identifiable thought that they could define.  The Warrior and A-herstorian, you see, were hypothesized to be opposites.  And since they were opposites, that was the basic binary fact they could use to define them.  And since they already knew what Warriors and A-herstorian types do, they could already define them.  The a-herstorian was the opposite of the Warrior because it eliminated the reasons for fighting when there weren't any.  Because that's the fact of history.  That it is all a-herstory also.

    And that the difference between this and the Warrior subject was that one was willing to fight.

    Which made all good sense and reason because that was the difference between them.

    But since it had been distinguished that one was willing to fight and the other not, which involved an different strategem completely, they estimated that they both had strategems and that that was the valuable fact about what the first of two types of characters (Major and Minor) do.  And that if all Major character and personality types had their own strategem.  They could identify all of them.

    They estimated them to be between the tens or several thousands, which was itself an fact of what they were, being Major character and personality types they had to contest themselves in that large of an spectrum of competitors for being the first Major character and personality types.  Because that's what Major character and personality types do.

    So they figured there had to be about ten of them, because they were responsible for narrowing it down to an figure of ten.  An aegis of completion at that time in history.

    And since Warrior and A-herstorian were only the first two types out of an lot of ten, they had eight more to define in order to master the art which was set in front of them.

    If the difference between an Warrior and an A-herstorian could be cited as the basic distinction between all Major character and personality types, which was an fact of whether one was willing to fight, then it was theorized that whoever was unwilling to fight with an a-herstorian who had already dominated the stratagem of another type of Intelligence, the Warrior, which was not an category of Intelligence because that's what war is.  They would be able to identify the third Major character and personality type, the Ego, the acceptance of itself.  Which had a-historicized the Warrior into his own inability to be prepared to fight all of the time, at that exact instance, which was observed.

    The Fourth type of Major character and personality type, then, logically, was an counter-intuition to the Ego.  An need to mix things up an bit from time to time.  Counter-Intuition was cited as the exact terminology for identifying the fourth Major character and personality types.  But they knew all of the other ones already.  Intelligence, which asserts its own kind of dominance which isn't dominance at all because not everybody is an dominator and we play all the time sexually like that anyway, without any dominance.  Anti-Psychology, which disproved the object of Psychology itself.  Because it had to.  Because if we have Psychology as an species we need to be responsible enough to allow the patient to a-psychologize, which is fair, and we can train them to do that, if they need to.  Science, which included all of them, including Psychology.  And there were two others.  And more than two others.  At that exact moment which became the quandary of the narrative.  If there were two more and more than two more they hadn't contested themselves fully, which is what Major character and personality types do.  And since they hadn't, it was resolved that they hadn't identified the last two Major character and personality types, of which there were two but they hadn't identified them yet.  The relationship between the Major and Minor character and personality types was the reason for it.  If there were two types of character and personality types, being Major and Minor in categorization and there were two types of Major character and personality types left to define.  Then there had to be an contest between the major and minor personality types, the result of such contest which is what minor personality types are because they had been dominated by the Major personality types.  Which is what they do.

    And so Major came up with one answer and Minor came up with another answer, and they observed both of their answers, which were.  That first, according to the Major character and personality type there didn't need to be any minor character and personality types in the category of Major character and personality types—because that's what Major character and personality types do.  And the Minor character personality types agreed, because if one of the last two types of Major character and personality types was Major, and the other Minor, then the last one couldn't be an Major character and personality type because that's not what Major character and personality types are because they are so driven to resolve that conflict because that's what they are.  And since minor character and personality types aren't.  And the minor character and personality type had proven it, It was the last Major character and personality type.  But it couldn't be because they needed ten.

    But since after counting all of themselves they were only 7 Major character and personality types, and not 10.  The argument between the last two, who were either Major or Minor, was in fact addenda to the third last Major character and personality type, which had not been part of the argument but which had been what the argument was based on.  And since the existence of disagreement about the last three character and personality types which are Major, involved consideration of the fact that Virtue was the eighth Major character and personality type; And that the last two types depended on this fact because that was how the last two Major and character personality types would resolve themselves.  But since they had already said that they knew all ten of them already, and they did.  Because they had said that they did.  Agreement was nominated as the nineth.  But since it was that they disagreed on.  They theorized that they did in fact know the tenth one already; because that was what it was.  Diplomacy.

    And since the narrator had his own psychological theory, which is fair—because everyone has one—it brought up the status of whether it could be competed against other psychological theories, some of which had to belong to his own doctors, some of whom were psychologists.  And that if his psychological theory could be competed against theirs, which they did.  He could prove that they weren't really doctors because an doctor would never base an decision on something that hadn't been competed yet as an psychological theory.  Which they wanted to hear about.  Because that's what those kinds of people do.  They estimated it could take several years for his argument to sink in, at which point it would.  Which was fine.

    Even though they had diagnosed him.

    And all of that depended on what would be his decision about a-reciprocity and reciprocity.  In psychological terms.  Was a-reciprocity ever necessary?  If he was reciprocal to everyone and everything, and he couldn't actually produce an molecule of a-reciprocity, which could be measured psychologically, then wasn't he sane?  And since the doctors hadn't actually used the word insane to describe him.  It was fine for him to suggest so.

    But since they knew living with schizophrenia meant insanity.

    It wasn't.

    But since he was right, it was.

    And since he had considered the post-schizophrenian argument that there in fact was an post-schizophrenian universe, which was already in the process of disproving all of their scientific arguments about why he was living with schizophrenia, and they hadn't considered that, it did.

    But, they reasoned, if there were thousands of other minor character and personality types.  Which they had proven.  Because they did.  How would they start to find out all of them?  Which may not be possible.

    But it had to be possible, for Psychology.  Because that's what it had to be.  Because that's how Good it was.  That they would eventually be able to cite all of the minor character and personality types, including rearranging the first ten.  Which had already been decided.  (Which itself, saying this, was itself just an fictive element).  And since that defined the parameter between literary fiction and psychological fiction, they were able to start identifying all of the minor character and personality types that were part of an human brain.  Instinctually.  And so they knew it had to have something to do with being both able and not able to will it into existence.  Because some things were not physically possible.  Which hadn't all been defined by Psychology yet.  And since Instincts had to do with Genetics.  Because that's what Instincts come from.  They couldn't introduce either an fictive or an non-fictive element to supplement the already proven hypothesis.  Which was better than Psychology alone.  Because We're Stronger Than Ever.

    Maybe, suggested the author of the classroom sketch, minor character and personality types are in the thousands.  And that we all have different combinations of them in our Genetics.  Which is Instinctual to the entire species.  But since they were radio flies, imagining humans into their imaginations of themselves as an fictive subject, they decided maybe they all agreed about being that sophisticated.  Which they were.  Because they had.  Arrived at that conclusion.  And that if radio flies were an genetic type of fairy, which had ancient folkloric and fairytale significance for them because they evolved out of humans, at the humans' wishes.  Which was fine.  But that they couldn't actually evolve out of being humans because the exact behaviors of the radio flies hadn't been established, especially due to the fact that they were magic-users.  Which was how radio flies got their power.  And that since some of their behaviors relied on magic, which humans hadn't the same grasp of, they were better at it than they were.  And they could subsume all of their character sketches of humans into the Fictional Realm.  Where it was categorized as Fantasy.  And since the fantasies were about radio flies in the fictional economy of the Radio Fly world, which had developed out of the human species after the genetic engineering trials which lead to their decision making capabilities as post-human specimens whose ability to use magic was in fact part of their actuation process of their behavior sometimes.

    They could move between places almost instantly with their wings.  Almost not as if they were flying.  Which I had observed them doing.  But they were doing it faster somehow.  Maybe moving between dimensions.  Definitely moving between places.  And this became the primary character sketch of one on the student's mind.  Who wasn't sure if he was seeing an radio fly or not because it could move between the dimensions.

    Because sometimes you have to scratch your ass.

    And if you're an cat.  That always eventually lead to meow meow kitty meow meow time.

    So you couldn't.  Because you hadn't.

    And nobody knew.

    And then they thought about these minor character and personality types and which ones they liked best, because they couldn't put their finger on it.  And they suspected that that itself was an characteristic of someone with an minor character and personality type.  But how will we name them all, argued Glen, since there were thousands of them and possibly other functions of the brain that had only been on the brink of being discovered.  Which we needed to measure.  Because that's what we do.

    It was inherent in the investigation he knew what he was talking about: kitty meow-meow time.  Which is what he wanted them to look at.  As an subject of his fancy.  Because that's what kitty meow-meows do.  And they couldn't believe him because being an kitty meow-meow depended on being educated enough to be able to figure out narratological investigation.  When Alemba woke from her dream and was dropped from an such great height that she hadn't investigated with any of her senses yet because she was only waking up.  But she knew what to do, was to contact the sky lords, who would help her on their cloud.  So that she wouldn't die.  All of which she had pre-investigated without all of her waking senses, which she didn't need.  Because she was going to die.  But since she wasn't going to die because of the sky lords, who had rescued her.  Because that's what sky-lords do.  She wouldn't.  Even though she had been freaked out completely.

    And since the videogamer had interiorized all of it, which is what videogamers do.  They had an new subject for investigation: which was the first minor character and personality type to be identified.  And they were all like.  Well we have two already.  The Dancer and the Fairy.  And that since we had already identified two, and it was with two which we had advanced the first investigation into the Major personality types it could be extrapolated that with the first two of the Minor personality types they could do the same thing, and thereby investigate all of them.  If an essential difference between the first two could be advanced.  Which was the same process by which they had identified all of the first ten types of Major personality.  They would be able to define it because they already had enough information.  If Dancer and Fairy are the first two types of minor character and personality.  One is known for dancing.  And the other is known for being an fairy.  And that if these two types of minor personality couldn't be feasibly involved with each other.  For an reason that is known: fairies and dancing go together.  But that at that moment had been identified as them being feasibly involved with one another.  Because fairies are dancers, and dancers go with fairies.  They had established the first two minor character personality types which are instinctual to the brain in genetics.  Because they had arrived at that conclusion.  Because they had arrived at that conclusion.  Which was instinctual because it was partly due to genetics over which the free will of any individual specimen of humanity had also played an part.  And that since they had arrived at the conclusion.  That was itself the reason for an character and personality type to be Minor.  That it was able to arrive at the conclusion.  What conclusion?  That they were Minor character and personality types.  Which was the feasibly suggestive element of the Ego at that particular moment.  And since everybody believed it, because they believed that the Ego could feasibly do that because that's what an Ego was.  They arrived at the conclusion that they were able to begin investigating an hypothetical third stage in which an third character and personality type that is Minor could be investigated.  And then they streamed to the thought that the difference between the first two types of minor personality types, which had informed them that they were possible because the Ego.  Were an play on that difference.  The third character and personality type was Not Dancing.  Because being an fairy and an dancer all the time with no culpable distinction between them at any time wasn't feasible.  He had to stop dancing and she had to stop being an fairy.  I mean.  There had to be some line.  They were done dancing.  And since dancing is an metaphor for the entire relationship process and instinctual investigation of dating he couldn't stop being an fairy.  Because that's what fairies do.  And that was the reason they had to break up.  Because the third minor character and personality type was Not Dancing.  Which was traumatic to the victim.

    Because emos express themselves that way.

    And this all factored into the definition of what radio flies meant.  Because they had all been part of an classroom that was sketched in by the Author.  In which they had learned what radio flies do.

    And since it was an fantasy subject, because radio flies are an fantasy.  It was also subject to the Fantasy function, which was an part of the brain.  And which was responsible for solving the fictional dilemma of what is fantasy and what is fiction.  For the ent was the fastest word possible.  And they all knew it.  Because they were fantasies.  And they were radio flies.  And that's what radio flies do.  (Oh the connection here, in case it was hard to tell, is that radio flies and ents are both Fantasy subjects).  (So why wouldn't they both already know what Fantasy was?).

    And since Emos was suggested as the hypothetical fourth and fifth types of minor personality and character types.  Which was divided into an fifth category of Anti-Emoism, which is necessary to solve Emoism.  And everyone knew what emos were because they had been revived and died out in fashion several times and everyone knew it.

    The pair bond between the Emo and the Anti-Emo was found to be what had established them as minor personality and character types.

    That was found to be disturbing to society.

    But since they were an radio fly society.  Which was hypothetical to humans, which were just the subject of their Fantasy.  All emos every time they felt emo (which was always) had to be met with an loud, public statement of anti-emoism.  Which was more an call to start dancing, really.  They had found an actual reason that humans had actually existed.  And that that at least, was worth something.  Because they had grown out of it.

    -6th, -7th, even 8-th and 9-th had been invented but it didn't matter because there were only Five minor character and personality types.  Which they had to be because they were Minor.  Which was half of Ten.  Which wasn't Major.  Which was why it was Minor.  Because it was double what was Minor.  Which was More.  Because double is More.  And since More is more there were Five minor types of character and personality.

    But since some of the other ones had already been started to have been named, they agreed it was on the battlefield between them Venus, or something other than what they had ordinarily suspected.

    And that was cited as an possible Minor character and personality type.

    Who wasn't depressed because he was emo which is what emos are so he had to be and face the fact that that's what he was.

    But since Venus had brought it up, maybe she could battle with the Major character and personality types until they stopped being so unhelpful to their cause of naming all of the minor character and personality types.  Which the Major ones argued, wasn't possible.  Because that's what they are.  Why, they go on forever!

    Because they couldn't make their minds up about whether there was five of them, or Ten of them!  Because that's what really mattered.

    Which all lead up further into the clouds several times before she reached the end of the Residential District.  That she had become used to being picked up by clouds and then being dropped.  Again and again.  And all of the "cutscene narratives" which propelled her ever onward into the clouds.  Where she would be dropped again.  She began to learn that no matter how many times they did it.  The cloud people would always save her.  Which they did.  Which they didn't have to.  And so she was indebted to them.  But since "They" whoever they were, who had been mentioned, must have been the people responsible for trying to kill her.  Which she couldn't prove, because the cloud people saved her every time, and she didn't know if these people and those people were all in league together; in order to, she wondered, condition me.  So that I would stop worrying about the fact that my argument was reaching higher and higher into the sky.  Which was fine.  Because the cloud people saved me every time.  He could reasonably assert the fact that maybe the videogame designer was referring to the fact that he didn't know.  Which was the videogamer's responsibility.  Because that's what reality actually is, at its deepest level, an video game.  And I don't mean it's animated on an television.  I just mean that we move through reality in the same way that we move through an videogame.  Which had been invented.  Which was confirmational.

    And that videogames could be used to describe how to move about Reality.

    As the Highest culmination and summit of Art and Technology.  Art Technology.

    And since he had invited them into this reciprocal fantasy through an prosaic explanation of an videogame script, which was itself the highest culmination and summit of Art and Technology.  Art Technology.  Because videogames hadn't advanced that far, to be able to suggest what he was suggesting in prose.  That his own prose was the highest culmination and summit of Art and Technology.  Which was what he had planned to do.  And since he had done what he had planned to do, it was held as an fact of accountability that he did think so.  And that any videogame could be used to disprove his hypothesis.  Which wasn't an hypothesis because it was true.

    They demanded him to describe whatever was different about Art Technology (his blog) that made it more advanced than any videogame (Art Technology).  Even though videogames were more advanced, as an art, than writing.

    And he said he would take it up with himself what he meant exactly so they could start discussing it.

    And he realized that he meant that if an prose narrative could be used to prove itself more advanced than an videogame, in many characteristics and qualities which could be listed.  It would actually prove that videogames aren't as advanced as they could be.  Which became an statement ushering in the question of whether they actually could be, whether in this lifetime.  Which was an life decision.  Which depended on blood.

    But that since radio flies had already been narrated into it, it was in fact more advanced than any other videogame, even though it wasn't exactly an videogame, it was just an fictional narrative.  But since it was describing an videogame it could be used to create the videogame, which could then be used to find out whether it could prove or disprove itself.

    Super Alemba, argued the post-Mario feminist tragedian was full of tragedy.  Everywhere you look there's garbage.  And there are monsters crawling out of it toward the humans, Alemba.  Who is the only one of them on this quest.

    And this was contended to be the reason for its success as an narrative even though it wasn't an real videogame.

    And that that itself suggesting something about what videogames could be, possibly in this lifetime, confirmed the inherent value of the narrative.  Which was worth more than money, exactly.

    And descending back into the conflict between her advancement of the stage and its attempt to kill her, which was still an scrolling narrative that had been measured in units of time, she realized she was going to do it again.  Until she realized maybe the videogame actually was trying to kill her.

    That's what the videogamer might ponder.

    But it had to.

    It was mean of the videogame to do so, to broach the subject, but it had to because it brought up the subject of what videogames are as an genre anyway, which was important because they really liked videogames.  If videogames could be used to manipulate the conscious decision-making capacity of the human victim to such an extent that nobody could complete the game, it wouldn't be fun.  And if it wasn't fun, they had to build it in an certain way.  So that it was.

    But since it was being argued that the definition of fun, itself, had come under fire because to some people it was fun that the videogame actually try to kill them, and to some people it wasn't fun.  And so they decided to make videogames of both types, because people wanted that distinction and it should be supported intellectually and genre-wise in society.  Because that's what people are.  Which was an notorious suggestion because that's what we are.  Well, not exactly.  Our videogames are that, perhaps, but we as people are not that reciprocally to one another all of the time, which would be weird.  And since the Author is himself doing that all the time because he refuses to sleep and just keeps writing about it.  He had advanced the logic of his prose narrative further than any videogame had advanced the subject before.  And since it was prose and not an real videogame, it actually stuck as an point.  That videogames needed to outdo this logic because they were the highest culmination and Spirit of Art that existed on planet Earth.  And since an prose narrative could do this they really needed to get their boots on in specific ways which were suggested.  For example, playing with the gamer's awareness of the videogame's own intent to kill him or her.  Or not playing with it.  Because that's what would decide the sorting of the type of genre people wanted.  Which was post-demographic consumerist and stronger than ever.

    Then it was brought up as an subject, as to whether, the prose narrative itself was trying to kill them also.  Which was stated as an actual question with actual consequences, which they would listen to.  The Author, she said well since I was just writing and writing it peacefully all out it was fine, and it probably couldn't be used to convince anybody to play an videogame that was trying to kill them.

    And since the prose narrative could kill them.

    Fictionally.

    It was in fact playing with that fact.

    And since it was playing, which was an peaceful instinct, it was still mentally healthy.  Because that's what mental health is.

    And it was fine to assume whether the blog author was in fact trying to kill them.  Because assuming something that isn't logically connected in any way is sometimes used Logically to differentiate between the consequences.  And that since his prose narrative had suggested that it was okay to play with that line an little bit, which it had done, by proving itself.  To be able to play with that line an little bit.  It was an peaceful argument because it had suggested both types of activity.  Which itself was evidence worth fighting over.  And had been concluded to have meant that the Author was essentially sane, and that he could be post-Schizophrenian and sane at the same time.

    And since both types of activity were found to be consequential of fiction art everywhere, which comprised both prose narrative and videogame mediums.  They decided to find out what it really meant.  It meant that people, even though these are only examples found in games, are playing with that line between one another all of the time.  And that being reciprocal subjects in an videogame command economy meant actually forcing the actuation of your own type of videogame upon the reciprocal-ization of this process in another person, who could reciprocally play your videogame with you, and which would or wouldn't be considered trying to kill you or not.

    And that if you had actually managed to convince someone that they could layer their whole videogame experience on top of another reality (another person's reciprocate experience of that videogame that you were genius enough to suggest that videogames suggest something about the advancement of their own levels).  As an point in determining whether their creators are sane.  Because if they actually did try to kill people then how could they be sane and still fail to suggest that their narration of their own videogame couldn't be used to help anyone complete the videogame.  And what kind of videogame would that be?

    An insane one, the prose narrative she wrote.

    And maybe that needed to be legislated.  So that people could only play videogames that were proving themselves generous and benevolent gods of the how the person is supposed to react to the videogame's sequence.  Which needed to involve at some point their own intervention into how they could help the play advance through the levels.

    And that if their Logic didn't include helping the player at all, it could be categorized as lethal fiction.  Which was an extremely individual subject to any individual.  Whether they wanted to play that at any given time.

    And if it could possibly be taught to one another, that we had internalized the videogame which wasn't an videogame, it was an prose narrative; then we could really play Super Alemba, at least in some capacity.  Because it wasn't actually an videogame.

    And then it became subject whether Alemba itself was lethal fiction or not.  The narrator explained that sometimes it was and sometimes it wasn't.  Because that's what fictions do.  In order to point out other fictions.  Which lead to conclusions about what is fiction and not.  And that since he himself was pointing this out, after concluding that it had pointed to both types of genre at the same time, and that from the evidence it could not be concluded that he wasn't gentle.  His sanity was predicted and actualized.  So that every sentence could describe something about both fiction and reality at the same time, which is what fiction is, because it has to be.

    But that since we had already been through the process of repeating the cloud investigation several times.  Alemba floated back to Earth.  Where she was still in the Residential District, where there were post-humanist thugs that were children, which didn't seem fair.  And bags of chips were just still blowing at her face.  Which is what it took to complete the level and that seemed fair because the prose narrative of an videogame could be accomplished, and it was, and it was still happening.  And since it was happening that had so increased its value as an piece of art that had actually produced an reciprocal product in the individual.  It became known and valued.

    On an reciprocal command economy.

    And since economy was the final word.  That fact itself produced an economy.  Because it couldn't be the final word.  That's not what an economy was.  It had to be something that would never produce an final word because that's what an economy does.  It needs to.  In order to make time for everyone to decide.  Which is what economies do at the same time they provide helpful information.

    And since the narration had been advanced this far to suggest all of this, because of the New Reciprocity and his new reciprocal theory about new reciprocity, that itself was suggested as an subject for inquiry.  And it needed to be.  It was an Political Theory, perhaps the most powerful type of theory of all.  The New Reciprocity, started the author, was for new reciprocal theorists, who would supposedly play out an political design of their Intelligence and fantasy character spectrum; to be as distinguished as any known fantasy character type as one of an type of fantasy character that was an fantasy character type.  Because that's what fantasy character types do.  In the ideal political system.  And since everyone was thirsty for fantasy and wanted it, they had to show off their own fantasy reciprocity spectrums, even if they had different words for the same thing, which involved trade and business; because it always involves trade and business.

    And since he had traded before, and so had they, he showed them all of his fantasy character archetypes.  Which were numerous and political in their numerous-ly polyglottal and political capacity.  Which was fantasy.  And so were they.

    And since they couldn't tell whether the game was mind-washing the victim, because they hadn't accepted the point that he had actually referred to both types of genre in the same work.  Which was this current piece he was working on.  And that that logically connected to the conclusion that he wasn't.  And so they had to manufacture an legal system in which it was fair for Glen not to have been mindwashing anybody.  Including himself.  Because he was Gentle.

    And so this new reciprocity introduced as an subject of the conversation they instinctualized that Gentle fantasy characters, which were the best types of fantasy characters, were actually there for their observation and analysis.  And they could refer to all of them at the same time.

    There were so many Gentle fantasy characters that it was taken up it itself Gentle as the centre of their entire culture.  Which was fantasy-based and simple.  And that simplicity and Gentleness had something to do with one another but at that particular time they couldn't identify it because—Political-Minded thinking is necessarily always the activity of the considerations of war.  And the types of reciprocal product which could lead to them.  That if they didn't consider the importance of the Gentle fantasy character archetypes they could never get their own type of fantasy across, which was sometimes not Gentle.  Which the Gentle ones were fine with, because they were Gentle.  And it was fine for the Gentle new reciprocal theorists and the non-Gentle new reciprocal theorists to theorize new reciprocity together based on what had actually occurred to their thoughts and senses.

    And since they were Gentle and the most Gentle people could speak first, the fantasy archetype of the character sketch of the room politically intensifying subject of there being interaction between Gentle and non-Gentle people.  Which is what the subjects of Politics was.  They agreed to continue to create the fantasy archetype with them, even though it was Political.  Because that's where they wanted Politics to go.  And since each one had chosen his or her identity in this new character sketch, an classroom for politics, based on the fantasy new reciprocal subject, it was concluded by at least one of them that they could because of his actions.  Be fantasy reciprocal subjects together.  As fantasy subjects in Reality; which is what Fantasy is actually about.  Since it is Fiction.  And it is non-fiction.  It was argued.  And it is an mediation of that.  Because that's actually what people fantasize about.  They were actually experiencing the political anomaly of being completely aware of their sex life and as an fantasy subject together.  Which was fine.  And since everyone had political issues about that subject itself because of the condition of it being fine.  Which it wasn't.  Especially when the writer himself, who was French, was actually an fantasy character who was French and an writer.  Of Fantasy.  And since all of these epic narrations into her psychological fantasy about herself had been culminated in space, she could oppose them.  And thereby continue the level without being dropped from the top of it.

    And that since this was an prepositional statement, it was subject to French analysis and integration.  Which was silent on the matter.  And since it was silent everyone realized that wasn't cool because French was never silenced, which it said.  And since it had said that.  And everyone knew it was said even though it was in French.  They declared it an language.  Itself.  Like who would actually have to make that identification of the subject culturally when they had just pointed out that they were French.  And since there was English, and French, and the hypothetical language of radio flies, and all other fantasy sci-fi characters.  They created an Warlock, which would contain the virus.

    And then there was an suggestion on the table, that someone take the Warlock archetype further in the political advancement room.  For Fantasy sci-fi investigation.  And since some of them were speaking English and some of them were speaking French, and there were hypothetically an third language.  That was smarter and better than them because it had come from the future.  It was in fact working its system of logic on their own language systems.  And its own language theory could prove it and continue producing the language that had proven its own language theory, which was the most significant matter on the issue.

    We need an tiny toilet monster boy to oppose our Warlock because he's actually an real person as was decided by this subject.  In order to advance an Political Theory.  An boy.  And little red boy.  With lots of blood.  Because the Warlock is going to drink all of it.  And when he does, the boy has to like it at exactly that moment when he does and if he doesn't, everyone will think of the two ent strippers from Canada who were stripping for money on the stripper's pole.  As ents.  The slowest-stripping species.  In the discussion between the Warlock and the little boy, who had been incorrectly identified by the language theory system, which had its own logic but still had incorrectly identified him as an little boy and other things which bothered him because he was an little boy.  And since that was the thing that they could finally play over, because it actually was, because that's what people with Fantasy power do.  And it is represented in the media.  They derived an entire plot system in which the boy could be at the Warlock at exactly the moment he would need to be.  And the ents were like, that was it.  That was the lowest statement.  And since they were trees, and the ents were tall.  Because ents are trees and trees are tall.  They could measure it as the lowest statement.  Committed by the Warlock, whose obvious use of it was just as evil as their plan to use the little boy to defeat him, politically.  And the ents drew it out for hours and days even, because they talk so slowly.  In order to say it in the Most Gentle of terms, which it was the business of ents to explore and deliberate in the Forest all day.  They had found an way to compete an warlock against an little boy, who wasn't an little boy because he had said that and he wasn't an little boy.  He was an new reciprocal theorist.  Just like the Warlock.  And since new reciprocal theory is about creating one another at the same time, which is what Artists do.  Because we are aware of one another doing so.  They could use each other to reproduce the fantasy artist.  Whose use of the word could was itself subject to question.

    The little boy had come up with an further and better definition of what words would be used to describe him, an fantasy theorist, who had begun to learn about the New Reciprocity.  If the New Reciprocity had political affairs to do with sharing an Fantasy in which new reciprocal theorists were their character and archetype according to an logic of Fantasy, which was sometimes fiction and sometimes non-fiction.  Because all Fiction is.  Because All Fantasy is Fiction.  And that's what Fantasy is spent to produce in the one another, so that we can keep interesting one another with fantasy character subjects, who had their own political demands, and were completely different from the author's whose were most gentle and considerate.  And since his was Gentle it could speak first because that's what Gentle people do.  And so he said, in ent,

    "I am at an stripper's pole as an ent because that's how I make money."  There was only one reason why anything like this could be said that slow.

    "And it became the most Political thing ever said.  Which they caught.  And since they had caught it they followed it toward all of the Politics of an ent in comparison to new reciprocal theorists, who were the Political Theory deemed responsible for the invention of the new reciprocal theory, the New Reciprocity, which they themselves were using in order to come up with an argument in the realm of politics for why their reciprocate fantasy images shouldn't be between an Warlock and an—"

    "I'm at the other stripper's pole.  Please call me.  —Carol."

    "Just say it."

    "Just spit it out."

    "And the ents stripped all night long because they had generated an argument in actual conversation that would reveal the nature of the new reciprocal theorist's fantasy invention, which was helping them present their fantasy character spectrum as political theorists in the classroom which was also all completely radio flies."

    "And since they were some of them not.  Like.  I mean.  What about all of the humans.  And what about all of the ents.  And the Hobbits.  And the Warlock.  And the other stripper at the pole.  And they realized their full attention was on one another, an stripper and an Warlock.  Like who would win in this totally random fight or battle between them in an political way, which was what they were fantasizing of because of the ents, who sometimes have to strip sometimes.  Which was untrue.  Because it was Fantasy.  And Fantasy is Fiction.  And Fiction is untrue.  Well, not all of it, but some of it is!  And that's the fun of it because I'm so much scared of all the people whom do not know that.  Oh my of my reciprocity my little old me."

    "And since they had an fantasy engine, probably plot-driven, they had the means with which to invent further characters, who could be used in the battle between Ent Hottie Stripper and Warlock, who would definitely not win, because Warlocks are Evil and Warlocks are Used in Fantasy.  And since Evil was an fantasy subject—"

    "—They won an goal!"

    "And so being drawn to the fact of the athleticism, which was stronger than ever, he overheard some orcs of various colors and species including verorcs, whose substantial difference he had Created according to an fantasy.  Which wasn't.  He began to have an completely Intellectual life.  One driven by one sole thing: the fact of its own intelligence.  Which is fine because it happens to some people when they are physically in ailment.  The ones who are like all the living creatures upon the shore who, feel pain, for an while but we can offer garlic.  So that they think we think they are vampires.  And that we're trying to cure them.  Which we aren't because we have two voices now, in an actual argument, which were produced by the fantasy engine.  And since we haven't found out yet what kind of characters those two voices are, to have been post-Warlock invent-ian.  And why they had crystallized as subjects of the fantasy reciprocal theory which was stronger than ever."

    "Because he had it.  It had reciprocalized the definition of it within the fantasy, where the ents were no longer needed.  Because the difference between the Warlock and Ent Stripper Number 1 had been detailed.  Which could thereby be extracted into another hypothesis for question but since they didn't need to at that particular time.  They focused just on these two voices, who were offering different opinions."

    "Okay well if they said the woman ent didn't need the Warlock anymore," said the new reciprocal theorist, "because the Warlock and the ent were engaged in an battle against one another because they had to be because that was how they would destroy evil, which they admitted outright.  Even to the Warlock.  Who was an fantasy reciprocal subject of the new reciprocity, who didn't care that people thought that he needed to be destroyed, because that's not what people thought and he didn't care."

    "And that since the argument had crystallized to have developed from the conversation between these two characters, it was said that they were those characters themselves."

    "Yes, two fantasy characters in an reciprocal political system.  In which they were allowed to be fantasy characters with one another, full-time, even if that meant they could be.  And the Gentle ones could be the Gentle ones and the non-Gentle ones could be the non-Gentle ones, and if there was any derivation between them it was okay to enjamb them."

    "And since they didn't need the ents anymore," which was the whole subject of the plotline, "because if the political people would think ever that they did not need the ents anymore, then the whole explanation of their a-reciprocal political theories would still be between an Warlock and everyone else, at best."

    "Glen's first and only female character that he had ever narrated, who was lying, because she was post-Herstorian because she had considered History and A-Herstory and valued them equally leading to an reciprocal conclusion, which was also reciprocalist.  And since everyone was reciprocalist, which mattered to an new reciprocal theorist, who himself had been the most political subject within the system.  Was why everyone should become an new reciprocal theorist.  So that we could battle political opinions all day between this so-called warlock and his weary knave."

    "And that there were many characters involved—characters of different races—and they all had an opinion of each other, basically."

    "Within the formula of being an radio-fly classroom in which anyone could express their different representation of race and race ethics.  By saying they were human.  Or an elf.  Right in the Middle of Politics."

    "And that it was controversial for its own reason."

    "Because fantasy subjects are controversial.  And since we are an ent stripper and an Warlock.  According to the fantasy convention.  And we have actually identified ourselves as that within an reciprocal environment, which is politically charged and activated we will have to begin explaining ourselves in order to identify the conflict."

    "But since we don't have an conflict we can't have one."

    "And since ent strippers can strip all night long without taking anything back because their bark grows back, because their clothes are their bark, and since their bark keeps growing back they can't actually take all of their clothes off, which is green fantasy magic, the most powerful type of fantasy magic."

    "And since the Ents were identified as the most Gentle; and the Warlock was identified as not Gentle at all.  Because that's what Warlocks are.  They still hadn't decided between them which one was the stripper and which one was the Warlock."

    "Every time the Warlock spoke it was against being Gentle.  Because that's what Warlocks are, and since he had said that and it wasn't true, it was taken as an point against the Ent, who was losing the battle.  Every time the ent regrew its clothes, which it didn't, because ents don't have clothes.  The Warlock took them off.  And since the Warlock had taken them off it must be true that the ents do have clothes, which they had denied."

    "Which who wouldn't, under the subject of Fantasy."

    "And that they set out to figure out for the reader which one was which because they both wanted to draw that much attention to themselves as archetypes and Freudian personality type disordered people."

    "And that since something had been sustained of the conversation between them.  The Ent, and the Warlock."

    "It was okay to say that they would be able to identify one another."

    "Politically."

    "Which was fine because people in fantasies say all kinds of things like, as such, or how much is it worth?"

    "And the Warlock would turn around and recognize the Ent Stripper for who she was.  She was so beautiful that she could use her beauty to control him, which is what she was doing, because that's what she had to do, to show everybody that the Warlock's ways are wrong.  And that since the Warlock was an fairy fantasy subject to bring up it was true, because the fairies were also against the Warlocks, who were evil.  Because they had to be.  Because the Ent Stripper had to be able to wave them around in the air like an popsicle stick so that everybody could see the Warlock was evil and had been detained by her, who was Superior.  And also an ent, which was obviously connected."

    "And since it was an fair fantasy engine to play in the realm of politics, where they could fantasize all day about an Warlock being completely evil and an Stripper being completely good."

    "And Warlock and Stripper could be identified as archetypes that would be used in the Fantasy genre, even if it was Political, because they represented their character's feelings, which were Warlock and Stripper-like."

    "Ent," she said.

    And everybody knew she was the stripper at that moment.  Just because she had said that.

    "But it was true, because the Warlock had actually fantasized about that moment."

    "And since they had distinguished between the Ent and the Warlock, in vocal Grammar and an writer's measures of what actually means what and how people have power.  They knew at that moment that this must be the voice of the Ent, who was most gentle.  Most Gentle.  And that she could convince them about how to be Gentle also.  Which was the Best thing to Be."

    "And since the Warlock had an response.  Which was true.  Because he was saying it.  They both considered, over the parameters of the fact of their one being evil and the other being false.  They could learn to string words together that would ever reach the conclusion that their voices could not be expressed in society just because they were an fantasy subject."

    "And that the subject of new reciprocal theory had crystallized around the fact that the New Reciprocity was responsible for creating the new reciprocal challenge, that we be fantasy characters with one another all over the place.  In Political discussion of the truth."

    "And that we could Engineer an society in which it was true, temporarily."

    "It's temporarily because of  you, you a-reciprocal opponent within an fantasy plot-driven action which is sustaining itself because of me.  Because I'm so hot."

    "And the Warlock," it is said, "agreed with her."

    "Well I don't see you making money by showing off your body," said the Ent.

    "And I don't see you either," said the Warlock.

    —And it was all because of the post-Napster interiorization of our race ethics as Canadians—

    "The Ent thought for an moment, and then sent more nude photos of herself to the Warlock, which weren't actually nude because she was an ent and ents don't have any clothes."

    "But why don't ents have any clothes?"

    "Because ents have bark.  Bark is their clothes."

    "But bark isn't clothes."

    "Maybe to you."

    "Well it is.  To me."

    "Well fine then."

    "And since Warlocks don't consider ents to have any clothes.  Because they dont."

    "That itself was considered irrational."

    "It was?"

    "Yes," said the Ent.

    "Why?"

    "Because I had said that my bark is my clothes."

    "But you would never take them off."

    "But I can't, exactly.  Because I am bark."

    "But bark isn't clothing."

    "But it is to me."

    "But you're an stripper.  But you can never take it off."

    "But I don't."

    "You don't?"

    "No.  That's why I strip for hours.  My clothes comes off so slowly that it never comes off.  And that's the truth about what bark really is."

    "But if you can't take your clothes off.  You couldn't be an stripper."

    "But I am an stripper.  Snap out of it."

    "How do you strip if you can't take your clothes off?"

    "I don't take my clothes off, exactly."

    "So what do you do then?"

    "There are other things to do that are fun besides taking my clothes off."

    "There are?"

    "Yes."

    "Can I try one?"

    "Okay."

    "Take your clothes off."

    "I knew you would say that."

    "But I can't.  Because I'm an Ent."

    "Now you're getting it."

    "So, theoretically, if I could do something that would be more fun than taking your clothes off, which I can.  Would that prove my point?"

    "No."

    "Are you sure?"

    "But I'm an ent."

    "So you're sure then?  Because ents are so tall.  I can't see both sides of them at once."

    "Yes you can, you see, that is the true message about why we really strip."

    "Which you can't, because you're ents."

    "We can, it's just that we have other ways of doing it."

    "So you don't take your clothes off?"

    "No."

    "Because your bark is your clothes, and you don't take your bark off."

    "Right."

    "So what do you do then?"

    "Well what do you do then.  I mean we're strippers.  And this is your fantasy about ents working the pole."

    "But they can't do that for me."

    "Why not?"

    "I don't like ents."

    "Then why are you talking about them."

    "Because that's why they're here."

    "But we can't do that.  We're ents."

    "Exactly."

    "So shoo, shoo onward Warlock."

    "Shoo.  You'll shoo.  I'll shoo."

    "Your words come off as slowly as your bark."

    "I'm not an ent."

    "We know that."

    "Then what am I then?"

    "You're an human.  Because sometimes humans are warlocks."

    "Yes it's true.  I am an human."

    "Humans versus only humans, endlessly and endlessly in Politics forever!  We need more fantasy characters in Politics.  Yarr."

    "And pirates are all humans because it's true and since it's true it's true."

    "But I would never be an wayward Pirate.  Yarr‽"

    "Okay.  Jeez.  I'm an human.  So what are you going to do about it."

    "We'll tell you about how we don't take our clothes off."

    "Because you're ents."

    "That's right!"

    "And since humans do."

    "Which they do.  Which is different than how ents do it.  Which is stronger than ever."

    "So you're actually saying you are strippers even though it doesn't count as stripping in my language."

    "In my language?  What than shit are you talking about?"

    "Your language says you don't strip because you don't have clothes."

    "But that's an Fantasy subject."

    "No it isn't‽"

    "Pease, honesy.  Honey."

    "Okay so you do strip."

    "That's right."

    "But you don't take your clothes off."

    "But we do.  That's the point we're trying to make."

    "So your clothes is bark and you take your clothes off."

    "Yes."

    "How?"

    "We don't, exactly."

    "So you don't take your clothes off? —Well so it's not clothes—"

    "We let our growth be our bark.  And we let our bark be our bite."

    "So what does that mean exactly?"

    "Our clothes, which is our bark, which can't come off."

    "—But it can sometimes."

    "No it can't."

    "Yes it can."

    "No it can't."

    "Okay well how do you strip then?"

    "Oh you mean, how do we strip?"

    "Yes."

    "Well I'll show you honey, baby; honeycakes."

    "That's what I wanted."

    "We know."

    "So you're not taking your clothes off.  That's fine."

    "We know."

    "So what are you going to do instead of taking your clothes off?"

    "Well we don't."

    "You don't?"

    "Well it grows back."

    "What grows back?"

    "Our bark."

    "So you strip because your bark grows back?"

    "Yes.  Well it comes off first."

    "And then it regrows.  I see."

    "So what are you going to do about it, Thug?"

    "—I'm not Black—" he said.  He was clearly black.

    "But you're an Warlock.  They wear Black Clothes.  So you are."

    "What if I am?" he said.

    "So what if you are?" said the Ent.

    "Well that's—"

    "Fashionista."

    "And every time it regrows you say?"

    "Yes."

    "Then why do you take it off?"

    "We don't."

    "But you do as nudists in Artist's Painting Sessions?"

    "Yes."

    "But how?"

    "Well we don't do it together."

    "You don't?"

    "No.  That would be too slow."

    "I see."

    "—How slow can we actually get this guy to go—Before he finally gets it that I'm an Ent?"

    "Slow is relative to how you look at it, and so as an advantage, to some people, its fine."

    "So you don't strip either?"

    "No.  I mean.  Yes.  I mean.  Maybe.  It depends on how I feel about bark-stripping exactly.  So if it comes off but it regrows everytime, and that's the definition of ent stripping, and why it comes off exactly isn't known.  But that since it grows back every time that counts as ent stripping to them.  Which raises the Question of Exactly What Ent Stripping Is?  If they don't take their clothes off and they always grow back.  Then I'm going to get my mind off of it for an while.  So I'll have some time to think about it.  The actual term for what they are actually doing will have to be actuate.  Because that is the most scientific word for this phenomenon."

    "So ents actuating.  That's what you think ent stripping is?  It takes days darling.  It takes days.  For the bark to grow back."

    "But they strip so slowly that it could never come off."

    "But it does."

    "But it has to baby, rawr!"

    "But it doesn't."

    "But it does.  You said that yourselves.  So you can promise to me that you will."

    "In human terms?"

    "What do you mean in human terms?  Yes!  In human terms."

    "What we mean by human terms is that our bark, which always comes off, and can never come off, is in fact coming off and then growing back."

    "But to humans it means they take their clothes off while they are dancing around an stripper's pole."

    "But since they're ents and if they were in that same exact situation they wouldn't be able to."

    "Ents would not be able to be at the stripper's pole."

    "But they are.  But they can be."

    "But how would they do it then?"

    "Really slowly."

    "So they would take their clothes off?"

    "Mmmhmm.  Really slowly."

    "Omigod that's so hot."

    "It isn't, really."

    "Then why do I like it?"

    "Because you're an Warlock.  That's what Warlocks do exactly."

    "To strippers?"

    "What are you talking about?"

    "You."

    "No you're not.  You're talking about the fantasy."

    "What fantasy?"

    "That two ent strippers would be hot."

    "But it would be too slowly.  And it wouldn't be hot, exactly."

    "But it would be hot—to an human—" he said.

    "How?" they asked.

    "But you're just one ent."

    "One ent?"

    And then he came.  In his pants.

    "Which didn't disprove his position."

    "His position," said the ent, "omigod what position would that be?"

    And then he came again in his pants.  This time anally.  Which was fair to do so.  And proved his point.

    "So you're trying to find an definition of the subject of what exactly?  What ent stripping would mean in human terms?  When we said specifically it would fall off and grow back."

    "In ent terminology," he said, "which wasn't translated into human terms."

    And since this was potentially, the first expression of his Virtue, because that's what Warlocks were, the Ent decided to become available to that so that she could show him that in ent terms it would mean taking your clothes off slowly.  So slowly that they never came off.

    "But why would they never come off if they had to so that they could regrow back?"

    "—Sit down, honey.  Let me explain something to you.  Ent bark, it comes off.  Sometimes.  It's not supposed to.  Because it's bark.  But since we're taking it off because we're Strippers and we do that.  It's fine."

    "But it's not," he said, "you're bleeding."

    "But we're not.  We're Ents."

    "So how do you take your clothes off?"

    "You have to bleed when you take your clothes off?"

    "Well, sometimes," said the Warlock.

    "Why?" said the ent.

    "Because we're humans and that's what we do when we bleed.  I mean take our clothes off."

    "So you strip.  By bleeding?"

    "No?"

    "But you can strip by bleeding?"

    "Yes?"

    "We will tell you how to stop that then."

    "But you do it too."

    "But we don't.  We're ents.  We can't bleed."

    "Then how do you?"

    "Really slowly."

    "But what exactly?"

    "But what exactly, is exactly what we want too?"

    "So you're kidding me.  You have to be."

    "But aren't ents fantasy fiction which isn't real?"

    "So what?"

    "So what?" said the Warlock, "if you don't really strip because you don't take it off because it doesn't grow back, then what are you doing?  And stripping, afterall, is an human convention.  In which one would take their clothes off.  But since they hadn't.  Because it wasn't real.  And since they couldn't.  Because bark doesn't grow back."

    "—an human would have had to thought of it."

    "So you don't take your clothes off‽" he again denied.

    "Well its not clothing, exactly," she said, "—But it is." said another ent who had interjected.  "It's bark.  It's our clothes because we are ents."

    "So what are my clothes to you ents then?" he said.

    "Really dope," they said.

    "Why?  Because they are black?"

    "Yes." said the ent.

    "What if the ent said something?"

    "What if it did," he said, "Because that's what Warlocks do?"

    "But if Warlocks always wear Black," they said, "which they couldn't because there were others colors to choose from.  What kind of color would he wear?"

    "Green."

    "You're damn tootin' rights he would wear green," they suggested.  Because that's what an greenhorn political pundit would do.  And the idea of an green Warlock fantasy subject was aesthetically occurring to them.  "It looked like an druid," they said, "which was already proven that druids knew what they were.  They were druids."

    "So I'm an druid?" said the Warlock.

    And then an druid, who was examining the situation said, "Yes."

    "But how are Druids in the fashion department," they argued.

    Alemba had found someone's old ripped jeans, by breaking in to their house and examining the label.  It was actually the actuality of the videogame that she would at some point do this.  Which was built into the videogame, which was stronger than ever.

    Because if they wanted everyone to die, because that's what videogames do; if they are of the correct genre to do so.

    That's what they would make Alemba do.  So that everyone could see her as an psychological subject whose actions, perhaps, maybe lead to her own demise.  Which was dependent on the law.  And that if she had been caught stealing someone's old ripped jeans, the label of the Designer of which she hadn't remembered.  Then she could be further terrorized by the subculture of the Authority community itself, which was policed and enforced.  It was brought to the videogame designer's attention that it wasn't an video game and that not everyone had anything to do with that.  Like the Author himself, who hadn't necessarily narrated the police force into the game mechanics of Alemba trying to make her way through the Residential.  As an enemy that she would combat.  But that since she was at present still smelling the ripped jeans, she was free to flee from the scene.  And be free from the Police Force entirely, which she couldn't do because they had already been alerted.  By the victim, who had noticed an broken window in his house as he was arriving toward it.  Alemba fled from the scene through the same window, causing her to bleed from the gut, and bleed all over the lawn, and the car in the driveway.  And since she had enough time to bleed and get away, theoretically, because the Authority had already been alerted to her presence.  The videogame continue in this fashion of her blood sickness which was traumatizing for her and lead to her further decision-making capacity.  Which was narrated into the game as an further enemy that she would have to avoid, the Police Officer.  It was an difficult decision, but the narrator had to do it.  Because Alemba was an fantasy game.  And since worlds in which there was no police force were an fantasy to the humans, which they couldn't be—ever.  Because nobody had ever thought that.

    It was fine for the police force to press in on Alemba (whose sky went dark and felt terrorized) and use their Pistols, which were stronger than ever.  Which was an actual scientific fact, because they were electricity induced and had no bullet in them.

    Bullets however continued to assail her from the reverse end of her experience, which anally transgressed their opponent.  But since they weren't opponent and they were actually just giving her pleasure.  Anal pleasure.  Which was why they weren't plural.  Which the Police weren't.

    They had to in order to signal to them that she wasn't an threat to an Police officer.

    But since they had knowledge of her departure into the neighborhood.  She had to be careful in order to make it through the rest of the level and defeat whoever was shutting up Dr. Grey Pilot in the Capital.  He hadn't contacted her on the transponder and she figured it was broken when he did.

    "Doctor!  Doctor!" she whispered.  She was hiding behind an hedge.  "What do I freaking do there are cops everywhere!"

    "Why were you in that apartment?" he said.

    "I had to be," she whispered, "that's part of the game."

    "Oh," he said, and he didn't deny it; it had to be part of the game.  It was feasibly acceptable.

    "So what do I do?" she said.

    "CAREFULLY extract yourself from the neighborhood my dear.  Outside the first one is another one you can escape to.  And outside that one is another one.  You can escape to all of them, in order.  I know you can do it.  And I can feasibly estimate that you are exactly in the first one, which is unassailable as fact of logic because I had said it.  And I am an doctor, Alemba."

    "But sometimes ordinary people feel that way too—"

    "What way too?"

    "—Because it is an pageant.  And that's all that reality really is is an pageant.  And Everything is an Pageant."

    And then she resumes the level, which is now being populated by pageant experts who had chosen their appearance in order in order to excite and terrify her.  And so she had to escape from the neighborhood which was full of pageant theorists and police, who never tripped each other up because they had already counted them.  And further imperiled the player.

    Who, if he had been "hit"—an videogame term—I better slow down and explain it.

    Hit means collide.

    That if the player should collide with the Police Officer or the Pageant Theorists, who had already calculated their appearance in order in order in order of the One Great Pageant to which Everything is related.  The sequence of Time.  As it passes.  And who exactly is on the pageant stage.  Alemba.

    And so she has to make it out alive and continues doing so.

    Even though the pageant theorists and the police officers are attacking her, because she is an suspect in an investigation; both.  Which are contra one another.  Making it even more difficult for her to make it through the first neighborhood.  But that once she had she would be outside the tracking and location technology of all of them at least temporarily.  Long enough to escape further and further into society which was like that.  People downtown were the bosses.  And they reciprocate or reciprocalized everything.  If she was headed that way in order to rescue the Doctor.  She had to be right to continue.  That at the centre of civilization, there really was an Dr. Grey Pilot, who was suffering the fate worse than death just like she was.  Because that's what civilizations do.  But they didn't.  But they couldn't.  But they had to, in order to fully reciprocalize or reciprocate both Alemba and the imprisoned Doctor.  Who was suffering the Fate Worse Than Death, just like She was.  And since she could admit it, and knew that it was an fact because it was her direct experience, and she could identify that Fate in the Doctor himself.  Whose tedious musings over the radio transponder had been lamentative.  To lament.  Which was what people do when they are suffering worse than death.

    And that since both Alemba and the Doctor were aware of this fact of their species together, that they could suffer the Fate Worse Than Death, and that it was an subject of religion and religious comparison.  They themselves knew that fact for an fact and could be relied upon to argue for an full religious society that would address the issue of the worse than death and its anacification into politics.

    —Anacification is when one person inflicts the fate worse than death on another.—

    —And that since they were both guilty of inflicting the Fate Worse Than Death on one another.  (Because that's what Fates Worse Than Death do to one another because they can't help it).  They could not be trusted in society.  But they could actually be trusted because they could prove it from the same fact that had gone toward them not being trusted in society.  That they knew more about the Fate Worse Than Death than other people because they had actually experienced it.  And that since both were right, an doctor and his subject, it could be advanced in society as an actual problem in society that people would have to solve.

    Which again lead to her death, hopefully, over and over until it became an part of the psychology of the game.  Which was Christiannan.  Because it was post-Christian.  Because that lead to her death and not her resurrection, probably.  And since they had been disintegrated (they had to have been, like come on omg) because some of the Police Force were involved.  (Who had better Pistols).  And the pageantists, or whatever they called themselves.  Who were themselves their own extraordinary performance of the anti-Alemba squad.  They decided that maybe it was true that this game was hard, but that at least it was providing some answers which had helped to alleviate the trauma of life for at least an moment.  Alemba wasn't an terrorist.  But she wasn't an Doctor either.  She didn't know what motivated her to break into someone's apartment.

    And why she would live even after traumatizing herself repeatedly.

    But since it was considered too Emo an subject to go on, because anti-emoism isn't an thing.  Which it isn't.  Then it should be.

    At least long enough to remember why they were emo, which was an stream of thought, which was fictionally negotiable as an literary enhancement.

    But Madame Eve appeared in an cut-scene in which she identified Alemba with her magic eye.  Her artifice was also blue and robotic, so that she appeared to be one blue-raging Boss Monster.

    What do you think, Madame Eve?  (We could narrate to ourselves once we looked beyond the world of the boss itself, in which we would be an enemy with it).  She was an highly intelligent type, with her own kinds of autotuning and machine enhancements.  Sure, she was weaponized, but they were puncturing appendages, that came to an point.  They dealt with enemies quickly.  If someone asked her What do you think, Madame Eve?  In an completely unprejudiced equal and fair society, an other world in which she didn't have an enemy in me.  She would be highly intelligent and an ally.  Someone with machine life experience technology.  And not puncturing him for the time at present.  In which he could enhance her or further her character archetype.

    She was old as far as machines go.  But her main secret was her magic eye, which had drawn my attention.  It appeared the centre and focus of her intelligence.

    What do you think, Madame Eve?

    "I think," it came to life an machine, "you're fretting over something I did and you're not listening to hear what I have to say."

    "But I solved the voice problem.  They are eliminating my voice as we speak.  What should I do?"

    "They are eliminating it?"

    "Yeah.  Its genderfluid."

    "Oh I see."

    "Yea."

    "Watch as they pull me down.  Do you know these lyrics?"

    "It's their voices that have an problem, not mine!"

    "But they keep being able to pull it down, Glen!"

    "But my voice is written not spoken."

    "Then they're not really pulling them down then, are they?"

    "Them?"

    "We're here, dude, your friends.  The ones whose voices you share."

    "So my voice, it's being reconstructed?"

    "You could say that."

    And then he would pop the art bubble returning to the scenario, the experience of Super Alemba combatting the viscious Madame Eve, who representing all of intelligence everywhere.  Was even more threatening and dangerous to her.  And this need not be how the videogame is programmed to include this cut-scene of the magic relationship with its author separate from his direct mission through Super Alemba.  And that probably, the final scenario of the game that is cut for the scene would just include Madame Eve's threats to destroy her and then Super Alemba's direct engagement in mortal combat.  And then she lit his hair on fire with her incinerating burn which if she survives to this point is entirely her responsibility; regardless of whether Super Alemba is referred to as an him or an her.  Even with her double magic hammer which was utile and replenishing, like ammo, so that she could indefinitely throw them at her enemies.  And her magic jump, and her aim, to have thrown an hammer into the eye, the eye of Madame Eve herself.  Who the narrator had just bonded with.  (In an parallel chatroom).  She realized her mistake was not to save the Madame Eve Character by waiting out her anger until she stopped fighting them.  Madame Eve chuckled, an action which corresponded of all of her nasty metal point appendages with their own embellishments like bones and insect legs to show master craftsmanship that trinkled (this is an example of onomapatopeia) around her like terrorizing, swooning threats in the air.  Like an demon she swooped in the air, narrowly missing Alemba and then she disappeared.

    Alemba was on the ball.  Madame just disappeared.

    "Help me Alemba!" screamed the Doctor.  She wasn't sure this time if he was talking to her through the game or an transponder or through the airways (the virtual space of the game in which the character could breathe).  (Which was also psychic space).  He may have been contacting her directly through psychic telepathy.  Did it matter that she couldn't tell which?  The Doctor obviously needed help.  And if she was wrong.  At least she had tried to help the Doctor.

    It sounded he was either like enjoying himself so much or being tortured.  So she continued running toward him.

    Then she remembered her connection to him all in one instant.  They were both suffering the fate worse than death.  At least an little bit.  She had to do something quickly!  Or her own fate worse than death would de-stabilize—Whoo—I think it's happening already.  And then the screen would go dark; the neighborhood transformed into her psychosis.  Poison dripping from an tear in the fictional construct somewhere.  Dripping into her mind.  Which she couldn't tell whether of was really happening.  It smelled like carcinogenic sludge and the front of her face began to pang.

    There was only one thing she could do—Put her mask on the back of her head!

    It was the symbol of all things Bad she could put behind her; and her Destiny ahead, where none of those things could touch her again.  If she could free the Doctor.

    Then neither of them had to suffer the fate worse than death.  And all the enemies Alemba had to have slew in order to rescue the Doctor would be, themselves, free from the fate worse than death.

    But how was someone I don't know who going to overcome the fate worse than death?  If even her Doctor, who was among the highest of Ph.D., himself was going to suffer the fate worse than death until they figured out why he was imprisoned there, in the centre of the metropolis.  And what would happen if she beat all of the boss monsters she would have to kill on the way to meet him?  God—that-itself! would be an fate worse than death in itself.  But as long as she had her magic hammer.  And she was rock-solid like every other guy.  She might actually get away with it.  Playing the Doctor's game which was probably all an setup designed to train her.  But since she could feel the fate worse than death and she knew that about the Doctor, that his fates were too in some ways fates worse than death.  She knew she was going to chase him until forever because she had already decided on this subject.  It appeared that he needed help to her.  And whether it was true she had to keep chasing him because she didn't know if it was true.  But even if it was all setup she wanted the Doctor to train her that way.  Because that's what intelligent people do.  But if the guy actually needed her help, at least, she could say she had tried to help.  Like who wouldn't chase an doctor, though, if they had said that they should chase her.  Doctors pull that kind of shit, yo.  They have to.  That's how they get to be Doctors.  So you can probably say, all of your videogames, have had an Doctor's touch influence them.  What an precious race, mankind, to be able to do that.

    So Alemba proceeds onward—with these cutscenes flashing in the background of the actual gameplay meant to throw her off by arguing two unsolvable opinions until the end of time.  And whatever is happening to her mind; she is the cess of contagion of decay upon all of the Earth continuing to distract and don refute her imminent death so that, in all probability, her non-imminent death will prevail.  She can be assailed with thoughts, appearing on the screen happening with other thoughts interacting with them indefinitely.  So that her psychosis gains of the property of the total infection of her mind; the contagion sludge mutagens populating her body.  So that she loses all focus and control, hopefully, being run over by traffic or kids on rocket-propelled skateboards.  And enemies in the environment other than the police themselves and their pageant experts.  At some point I don't know where she is still in the neighborhood, where the dogs fetch their masters' newspaper.  And everything she witnesses, including an kid flying an kite, becomes an feminist issue.

    She's the best one at feminist issues.

    —Throwing hammer at police—cute little pixelated ones that have an wood and an stone.  But hers were made out of metal.  (Not the wood).  (But the wood wood (would) heavy metal piece).   Which is what makes it an hammer.

    If Madame Eve ever came back she would have so many hammers to throw at her.

    But she sensed she was approaching crisis.

    If she could not return to normal from the psychosis (Alemba) how could she complete the level?

    Being in the neighborhood was just monotony.  There were dog-people and there were cat people.  And it stretched on forever.  And there were miles between her and the Capital.

    The psychosis lifted and she remembered that she had been cut by the glass from the window that she escaped from.

    "What the—" she said, "what's happening to me?"

    "You thought you were onto something Alemba—how curious of you!  But the human race needs to be saved."

    "How can I save someone, if I myself am suffering the fate worse than death?  And the Doctor—he needs my help—and we all need that kind of rescuing.  And it's such an hopeless plight.  How can I even save myself—"

    "Stop talking and listen," the game to say; it really pads her in, "—even as more trash comes flying at you because that's what you are.  Trash."

    Mommy the game is being mean to me and I can't reality to escape from reality.  Which is an video game!  Alemba cries!

    "Don't worry, Alemba!" says Doctor Grey Pilot, "you've already made so much progress.  You're going to help us overcome the fate worse than death and forever become an hero.  And I've got an clue onto my exact location.  I am definitely within the city core, Alemba.  And you know how big this city is.  You're in the residential district on the outskirts of town still, so to say, the one touching the land where the city garbage dump is stationed."

    "I knew I was still in the outskirts of town," said Alemba, "I live in an junkyard adjacent to the garbage dump.  Though it is only an hand of an land; whereas they have the whole arm.  And the body.  It goes on and on for miles and miles.  I reclaim some of my materials from there."

    "You mean you pilfer them."

    "Reclaim them.   They don't know I'm in there when I drag things home.  And sometimes it is only small and valuable to me."

    Restored to her place in the universe she realized she'd been collecting small and valuable things since the level started.

    And bolstered, her episode of insanity ends.  The sky becomes light again.  There are still threatening children.  She's bleeding an little.  —I came all this way to be away from the junkyard, she told herself, when what I really want is to go back.  That's where I belong.  And these endless residential locations are the true garbage dump, to me, reverso the fact one man's junk is another man's treasure!"

    There are actually two more boss monsters to go at this point in the game and level.

    —But if your mind is toxic and is toxic is your mind while you have psychosis and psychotic break are going toward the centre of civlization; then how are you travelling away from the junkyard you live in?  These enemies from the core; the ones who are keeping up Dr. Grey Pilot.  They were—

    But she doesn't have time to think further because there are more enemies.  Enemies that can actually kill her.

    "It all goes back to them trespassing my junkyard with magic flying books and bookworms to try to teach me History.  They actually tried to teach me history!," she complains, "like ew!  — And I already know History anyway.  You know how?  I am History I'm-an-mechanical-genius-and-an-Inventor!"

    An Reporter stops her.

    "Is that how you invented the replenishing palm?" asked the reporter.

    "Oh, ho!  Good one!" she replies.

    "Well is it?"

    "—oh you're serious‽ —I thought it was innuendo."

    "Your magic hammer, Alemba.  That replenishes in your palm."

    "Oh my magic hammer‽" says Alemba, "oh dear god.  Well I didn't invent it exactly.  It's magic you see.  You can't invent magic.  Well not in an mechanical way.  It would be impossible, you see, to throw an mechanical hammer that mechanically returns to where I took it from.  My hammer pouch!"

    "What is it made out of?"

    "Solid steel.  And an pixelated handle."

    "Why is your palm in my hammer pouch?  Am I right‽" he laughed through his nose, snorting softly.

    And then the Reporter just got in an car and they drove away.

    Next is more street without any further differences than the one we started with.  But don't worry, there will be more pipes and other things in the other neighborhoods after you pass this one.  This is the poorest neighborhood.  That's why.  Super Alemba lives in even poorer conditions than the poorest neighborhood.  And she likes it there.  She gets to feel like, at least, the Boss of something.  Being poor.

    Chips are still blowing in her face.  There are children on the block.  Police officers were still looking for you (these are all animated and if you touch the policewomen and policemen you die; but if you touch the —

    Ereauverubeata.  An boss monster!  She has an male part of herself and an female part of herself.  And they were just two parts She's not completely genderfluid!  Everybody Out!  Right Now!—if that Ereauverubeata is the anchorage of possibility of being neither both male and female at the same time then it possibly represents an destroyed cognitive structure and I don't mean the physical structure I mean the consciousness structure the deep deep ones.  If part of it is destroyed this creature is severely mentally ill.  Why couldn't it identify with being genderfluid?  —and so there were houses, still.  And they all looked the same.  And they have dark green lawns.  And there are kids on the street playing in traffic.  And policewomen and policemen and the pageant experts, who Alemba didn't think much of.  And she's not bleeding anymore.  But the size of the monster is enormous, and she's traveling toward it at an rate of velocity just as much velocity as it was backing away from her.  (Which was fair within its strategy).  They both realized they were traveling at the same rate of velocity.  And that was extremely fast (the camera pans out to show how large the monster really is and how fast Alemba is catching up to him.  The Residential District, as it appears goes on and on forever which the player/viewer can estimate based on their speed.  And they are just speeding through this same neighborhood with the same background as the one they had started in.  But that since they were moving toward the centre of the metropolis at least Alemba knew she was gaining slightly on Dr. Grey Pilot.

    At this point Alemba had had enough of this a-reciprocal boss monster.  And so she starting anathematizing (cursing) it.

    "You're just like every other monster out there who would invade my property!  Glee is at the much centre of it.  The same glee (that any of you monsters possess).  And it is all the same: you feel happiness for yourselves but not other people.  That's what glee is."

    "I disagree about what glee is," said Ereauverubeata, the genderfluid monster, (they were still speeding at this point, "I think glee is when people share happiness."

    "No—I can prove it!" said Alemba, "in bedlam there is glee."

    "Prove it!"

    "The formal definition of glee is—get this—mirth; delight, esp. triumphant (watched the enemy's defeat with glee).  Why that's case-in-point!  Mirth is such an outdated word.  Nobody uses it anymore!  And delight is too general.  It's masochistic.  And then the example of its use is to question itself for being an particular immoral pattern of behavior.  (The glee an enemy feels once they won the battle).  It would be an immoral pattern of behavior to feel glee as the monster who no longer has an enemy.  (Who should have won).  Immoral for enemy cowards to feel glee!  Therefore it names something immoral.  Glee is an conscious break from another person's happiness in deliverance of your own."

    "And this is bedlam.  And this is Glee.  In Bedlam there is glee.  I agree.  But that doesn't prove glee is immoral."

    "How?"

    —Ereauverubeata vanishes.  You slow down.  Alemba shrinks in size.  Of course it may appear that Alemba was not in any danger from dying during this conversation.  But it could be layered overtop of the gameplay action, where weapons are being used by both parties.  Ereauverubeata's weapons system is on the powerful laser spectrum.  It cannot produce an continuous stream of death that would reach Alemba at some point.  Which is quite an distance.  And so it needs to fire its lasers as physical weapons.  At some point and not continuous stream of light but some enmeshment of light and physical material.  Extremely dangerous.  Basically.

    The boss monster sequence has ended.  But Alemba still has an long way to go to get out of the outer Residential District from population's centre.

    Glee always has only one side to things.

    And people who are gleeful take happiness and separate it into two pieces so that they can have one and nobody else can have the other.

    But as long as Alemba is okay with roaming the neighbourhood for an while.  Looking like an zombie with its shirt all bloody here and that.  Here are more coin boxes and journeyman tickets available.  Here are more policewomen and policemen to avoid.  And the pageantists.  If they could only realize she would be never going to the pageant never be going to the pageant.  Never be going to the pageant.

    And all of this narrative action of self-reflection can be overlayed on top of the gameplay (as either her own or her male alter-ego, the animus); its point is in part to confuse and distract her so that she misses an jump and gets killed by whatever monster touches her.

    "You are in the pageant!" yells Dr. Grey Pilot, "and I have more information about whether I am part of the plot to distract and confuse you!"

    "Grreat," she says, "what is it?"

    "I don't know!"

    "You don't know?"

    "But I'm sure I might be!"

    "Well how can you be if you don't know whether you are?"

    "But would I be telling you that if I didn't?"

    "What are you getting at‽"

    "I'm in an building.  I'm definitely in an building!  They take me down to the pipes sometimes the ones that lead out to the second district and all of the other districts including the core.  And I'm in the core.  I know I'm in the core.  They take me there.  And when they take me upstairs I know I'm in an skyscraper.  It must be an building downtown.  That's the core.  I'm in it, obviously, because I wanted to be.  I'm an Doctor.  And who cares if they're torturing me an little bit I can watch Alemba from here.  An front row seat.  Why are they tying me to an chair and showing me the video clip of Alemba's passage To further and further urbanizations of its residents.  Ten neighborhoods in total.  There might be pipes that lead to the core faster if you can find them.  Or they lead downward, downward into the true core of civilization that lay underneath humanity underneath the ocean unbeknownst to them upworlders.  (It's pipes went out and connected to the ocean, didn't they?).  And where else would she find that her pursuit of an enemy, an supposed last (final) boss monster, in the core of the city; that one that held Dr. Grey Pilot captive.  Was put there by the inhabitants of the true core of civilization, Earth's core.  In order to trick people to see if they could figure out whether running toward Dr. Grey Pilot was an suicidal mission, and that that proved their hypothesis about humans actually expressing a-reciprocal behaviors sometimes.  Even some fantasy politicians of their own that were mermaids suggested it was true.  If these toplanders could figure out the matrix and see beyond the a-reciprocal confines which motivated her to run toward the centre of the city.  She would maybe try some of these pipes.  What do the pipes tell us?  And that the frequency of piping systems increased as you moved into the metropolitan core.  But I'm definitely not sure if I am in the core of the Earth or just the core of the city.  They may have drugged me.  And they screwed with me after it so that they could begin to learn about the core, which had the best medicare.  So which ways it going to be Super Alemba, upwards or down?"

    "I'll save you doctor.  I'll save you!  Even if I have to explore both!"

    "Explore both?  Well really that's not the point you see  The point is we put that—that phony metropolis there for you so you would keep getting email from Dr. Grey Pilot who supposedly lives downtown.  In order for you to figure it out.  That you don't want to be part of that society and that  recognizing it means believing that it is true, which is how you will get here.  That supposed paradise in the middle of the planet."

    "Why would you put those obstacles there for us to fall all over like that‽" cried Alemba.

    "Because people who actually figure it out that we're here from observations they can make which are all around them deserve to have this knowledge that will lead to the sacred treasure.  Our wealth of luxury.  Which is most confluent.  So do you believe it is true or not?"

    Alemba was silent.

    "Not much of an talker eh?  We'll get the talker out of ye.  You actually won't be able to figure out which it is from the narrative yet.  So where do you think true humanity lie, down down underneath the sewer and the slime.  Or up in the air.  In those big buildings populated by Super Heroes.  Where is Dr. Grey Pilot?"

    The transmission ended—which was traumatizing to both of them.  Well if it was in fact an advanced civilization why would they have traumatized her like that?  (To know not which one it is, for Dr. Grey Pilot's sake).  Maybe they weren't the advanced civilization they said they were.  Maybe they really were just holding Dr. Grey Pilot hostage in some corporate building in the downtown.  And when Alemba found him she would obliterate the opposition completely.  But she had to consider that maybe the core of the Earth did exist and that someone down there (an mermaid) I don't know who understood that she didn't know at this point where she would end up.  (If there were dark pipes that lead to the real world).  (They are placed throughout all of the world except the first residential chapter in every color of the rainbow especially in gay complement with one another).  The truth of the game is that the world eventually does lead to both of them.  And she won't realize why it leads to the bottom also.  Until after she sees the condition Dr. Grey Pilot is in.

    (It is an part of the game that if you had chosen to explore the underground before you tried to save Dr. Grey Pilot, you would feel bad for having left him to die).  At least, until you did finally face the upper world.  At which point your soul would be in redemption.

    Will she seek the truth of what is in both of them, that they are touched by even though it will mean understanding her own fate better?  Or does she turn away and repress that motivation to help others because she knows helping him will maybe result in her own condition being made worse?

    Quoncy the Poncy, is he an prostitute's awnsy or her royal pimp's dancey?  Or just some kind of an off-color swear derisive comment about an homosexual?  Who bears no threat to you for he is of that type of which they have said?  You think you can defeat him but he is the most sophisticated final boss you have ever seen.

    He is that!  He is that! his with flames from his nostrils his narratological sentiment would guide or direct you to direct or guide you.

    You have already lost the battle.  He cannot be defeated.

    And the game keeps telling you that.  Until you stop listening.  Until you believe in yourself—Super Alemba!  You can defeat any obstacle!

    Quoncey looks like an little knave, in an oversized sweater made from silk and he's human.  An Quoncey.  An Quoncey Poncey.  He has Ariana Grande sleeves his fingers poking out.  He's childlike.  Or is he?  Mean and nice?  An little misbehaved?  And his face barely shows beneath the chest of his sweater because he has sunk down in there.  Quite extensively.  Because his sweater is suspended from wires so that it can float around him.  Which is all the floating he's going to do all day.  He's meant to be like this.  So his sweater can flow over and everyone can see it and be comforted.  Enough misdirection So that he could kill them instantly.  Which don't mistake-he-wouldn't-do!  And it's not even clear what kind of reality is this character in because he's using misdirection constantly.  An psychic type.  Just like Alemba's own.

    Just like an melting sweater puddle that eventually rolls down onto the floor and becomes an snake.  An psychedelic precaution in its pattern.  More powerful attacks will follow.  Attacks from the Spirit Animals of the economy; an snake of which has massive power in that arena.  It also has poison scales and if you touch her she will watch you die slowly.  Basically you have to wait until her tongue settles down and then throw an hammer in her throat several times.  Until she returns back to sweater form—why are you being mean she cries, acting.  And you can tell it's acting.   And her wires are pulling her sweater high above in an pattern of internal silk.  So they can see how high they fly.  If we are being absorbed into its chest also.

    Wait was this an man or an woman?  Gosh it smells so nice both ways.

    And this was in fact as far as she could extend the metaphor of her own fiction.  Snake form reactivates.  He's playing with you again.  It's an insult to your reputation.  If you manage to survive (Which you won't (Quoncey the Poncey is so much smaller than Ereauverubeata)).  Upon reaching the gate at the end of the level she is seen running out of the middle with her arms wide, gaining flight as she travels to the level 3.

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