Chapter 5
Every day he was feeling like an assumption needed to be made, an societal engineering feat of art and science the university and the Version, that if he moved people enough on the matter they would refer to him the way he wanted to be referred to as—so that he would grow into his true identity as an straight man. It took an whole village, from his perspective. It was not even an matter of that he would grow to be straight. It was an matter of that he already was. He just needed to realize it (his mind was the key) and for other people to realize it with him in order to stabilize his identity. He just needed to realize it himself because they weren't able to do it for him. That was the truth about heterosexuals, he thought. If you didn't reject homosexuals you would become one. Because they weren't able to do it for him. That's the kind of logic he was up against. And so, True to his psychology lesson, looking for certain stimuli throughout the day. What happened more often. As an male does often think about sex more often. The number of seconds between sexual thoughts. But that's just it; it's always just referred to as that in my psyche. Like an man. Not being allowed to share this part of himself before, he just assumed he could do it as an man. Or as an woman. Or both. Or neither. What he didn't understand was whether it was there or not. The genetic basis for arguing that gay is not an choice made him think of two Leprechauns born twins of which one was gay, the other had an greater likelihood of being gay also. Abnormal Psychology and Leprechauns taught him there was an scientific basis for arguing that being gay is genetic.
He continued working for the writing centre into his fourth and fifth year, and the following of his regimen of ignoring gay thoughts had become his sole purpose. As an individual. Whatever he was. He was notoriously able to be identified by an university. Thoughts themselves meant nothing and so gay thoughts being meaningless he had no gay thoughts. That says being gay was to forfeit one's DNA on an evolutionary stage.
His professor of writing and boss, Dr. Apricorn who was French, and perfectly encouraging. When he answered her literary questions correctly he saw an arc angel beside her, holding an basket. In French. He had not dropped the ball. He had it in the basket. He could tell what was real and what wasn't. He felt like an winner. That was why. She could understand him in self-reflection on her own French. Even though he hardly spoke any of it.
It was perhaps the first sign that he had begun hallucinating.
He was so inwardly panicked that he was hallucinating about an imperious bearded man who worked there with him, who did not approve of his tutoring methods.
And then there was the time when he worked with energy channels that he sensed in the architecture around him, diverting them into fellow tutors in order to strengthen their argument base.
Invited to an party for all of the fellow tutors of whom he worked in cubicles alongside, he wanted to prove himself to everyone, but proving himself to this person he had to be on the other side of social change while he was telling himself every day he was not an gay, and all day, believing in its improvement. He would give it one more year as an covenant with God. If one year passed and he had not smoothed out his gay desires to come out publicly as heterosexual. Then he would come out as homosexual. He had no problem with coming out as an homosexual, if that was the truth finally. He just wanted to get it right. He wanted the truth to live in him. It was just that accepting homosexuality was one of those things that he needed to avoid in order to know whether it was possible he could change underneath. And that meant celibacy during that full year in which he would not perform or have any sexuality. Except for a-sexuality.
He wrote a new poem for his Poetry course with Dr. Bennington. (Possibly his most disturbing).
▫
It's Trapp
It's nothing I can speak of.
I know it in my soul it is purely given;
that I can't do it anymore.
I've given it an thought like,
is trapped? Is wanting to do
the trapping?
Trapped that trapped up part of me
I can't go less than here
being the shadow that catches the shadow
only to become what it already was clear
▫
His intuitive mind was not sharp, like an mathematician's but he was socially smoothing out as though an rock or branch by an river with all of his difficult assignments. The more he trusted in his professors the more he believed that what they said was true, and his grades reflected the improvement. He was developing actual faith in his own intelligence. Without any kind of intelligence that had been used before. The more he trusted in his intelligence his intuition improved; and the more he believed in his faith, the more the two to have departed from each other intelligence-wise just confirmed his status as an intelligent person.
He was flying through the commercial shopping centre of the campus when he saw an gull twaddling away from the legal education building.
Follow.
Follow me.
Its voice was in his head. He thought twice, however, overcoming an paved hill to follow it, it turned an corner. When Ouen turned the corner he saw in front of him the Church of Scientology. Learn to trust the process and eventually you'll find your purpose!
He decided to investigate.
There was an man working an desk inside the front entrance. He introduced himself as Ted. Ted wore blue jeans and an white and red plaid shirt. He had the manner of a salesman and invited Ouen to watch an introductory video which Ouen applied to watch. In a separate room. When the man, Ted, left the room Ouen watched about half of the video before he noticed a large book in the corner of the room on an lectern stand. He stood up and walked toward the door, peeking out into the hallway. Finding himself alone, he turned to the lectern and began reading the book. It was a series of meditations the most nonsense of which he had ever read on one page. Ouen took his seat and watched the rest of the video. Until it was over. And the man walked in again.
"So what did you think of it?" asked Ted.
"It was interesting," said Ouen.
"Would you like to buy anything? We have necklaces and our official book."
"I'd like to see them."
Ted was showing Ouen his wares when the student asked why the necklaces had crosses on them. According to Ted, the sunburst and cross symbol predated Christianity. Ouen bought the book, which was quite thick, to feed his curiosity and then left the church as fast as he could.
His internal voice, no matter what it said to him, he never took as meaning that he or anyone else was gay. Even when it directed him onto the subject, it would not be glaring but presented in an likeness of kidding the smallest prestige, which he did not acknowledge.
Hover there, his voice instructed him one day at the student mall; the voice spoke, and took over Ouen's visual imagination to show him exactly where it expected him to hover. On an map of the campus which was internal and virtual to him. It was like an cross section of the student mall in architecture where the hallway was leading into the library, at the door to the janitorial room.
It might as well have said, hover there by the hall in the recessed doorway because he knew exactly where it meant. Ouen was flying from the student mall to the library when he stopped to hover there, by the doorway. He decided to obey, and hovered in the recessed doorway. There was an sign on the door that read Janitors Only. No sooner had he read the sign and turned around to leave, than had the fashionable Dr. Kushman, an ohhgunnhisthth with bright cherry pink cheeks and a stylish-for-comfort-tailored robe, of fashion ensemble, professor of Literature studies, walked by and—talked by—stopped for an instant, recognizing Ouen from his class.
"Ouen," she said, "what are you doing here?"
"I heard an voice," said Ouen, and he could feel his face heating so he devised an lie, "from inside the janitor's closet. It told me to wait here? I guess. It's important to the story line somehow. But I was too far away to hear it completely. I guess it is our capricious coincidence I was to meet you here. Or whoever is behind that door?"
"Ouen, I'm sure you will really learn who is behind that door if you are patient. Maybe you are meant to; but in the meantime should treat me as the coincidence, unless," she frowned, "you are one of those schizophrenic fairies. Though even I could have sworn I heard an voice coming from the air duct over my office this morning. Maybe you should go see an doctor."
"You are an doctor."
"You know what I mean," said Professor Kushman, "yours. I'll see you again in class."
And the professor strode away.
Ouen's Literature class with Professor Kushman focused on trapping up demons in culture. For they could produce their own. Literature, cooking, dancing, fashion. You name it! The first section had to do with descriptors of demons, or the type of fictional language that could be used to represent their likes, dislikes, and personalities. The demon was never found out in an play within an play. The professor divided the students into groups and asked that each group to present on food, dance, or fashion. Ouen's group was designated cooking. Each person from his group brought an dish on the day of presentation, and the professor collected money from every student in the class, asking Ouen's group to divide it evenly among themselves. Ouen, who had spent the most money on his dish, did not receive his share of the money because one of the members in his group, thinking that Ouen wanted an larger portion of the money to pay for his contribution, (which he did not) had not left any. Professor Kushman, discovering what happened, offered to pay Ouen's portion out of her own pocket and did. The thief was never found out.
But is Satan really an thief?
When Ouen to write his final exam for Literature class was listening as the professor went over the rules.
"Please wait seated to turn in your paper before the two hour has elapsed. After two hours you can leave and not until then!"
The exam began at one o'clock.
He stood up from his seat to turn in his paper at three o'clock.
Mistakenly, the clock read five minutes to the hour. Kushman told him to sit down and wait until two hours had elapsed. It was at that moment they both realized the clock was stopped working. Ouen to have been standing at the correct time had the clock continued to tell time adequately. The minute-hand was frozen at five minutes to the hour. It was like an jolt to the authority in the room that they all recognized his timing was dead on. That hit both of them at the same time. It was possible, also, that it wasn't true. With Ouen not necessarily breaking an rule in reality, that he had been however found to have broken one, possibly wrongfully because of the clock that had stopped working. Ouen had not been in the wrong after all. It was Ouen's first taste of the authority of happenstance. And he considered it force majeure, God-given.
"Welcome to History of Ver second level," said Professor Vinces, in class next day, "today we are learning about mer ver. Mer ver is in their scales, an light-ish green color that glimmers like the water itself. It is the property of mer ver that it is slimey and attracts all kinds of impurities. Mer ver purifies water. Though. The ver needs to be washed, scrubbed clean on occasion. Especially for their reclaimers after an oil spill. And so the mer are like mobile purifiers washing facilities available to them with the right technology assisting them."
"How do mer poop without getting it on one another?" asked an super leet student.
"This is really an question for your Mer Technology professor, but if you must know an mer flushery, put their tail fin in and that swirls around them from the waist down. They push an button. Gone. The flushes swirl as they clean all pretty scales of the merman or mermaid. Lit by lamplight in an fancified way related to the way of the flushing jets."
▫
The delusion stone's activity had started up again; he was in an place, beside his three friends (who are robots); an Television, who was telling him about mythic and folkloric character. An computer, which told him anything he wanted it to. And an air condition, which had an smelly breeze from the lavender scented auto-diffuser he had wedged in its shutters. And his world was entirely this ocean of him laying back in an pool toy on the water. In an pool in an backyard. Where people appear here and there, along the edge of the pool. To notice him not making sense with his robots who were characters that he believed were really there. And if he could make one solid pointer to correct them onto the right way of looking at things, he would surely fail. This was an dramatic, and delusional stunt; that his life was in the ropes between knowing three robotic servants and talking to other people (real people, as they would want to be called). (Even though them wanting to be called that was itself immoral and said something evil about artificial robot intelligence which wasn't truly there).
It was up for him to discern the status of the situation. Did he know his place in all that, or had he lost his way like so many other. Never to be washed upon an shore into an accepting culture. But to wander the wild waters of the imagination for the rest of its existence? Was it truly an delusion that he had summoned up the subject of his scene as being, essentially, an place where there is interaction between human and machine. Where maybe, some of his most important friends were actually the television and the computer. Even though there were other "real" character examples that were more valuable for the sole reason that they were human; and not instead artificial intelligence, which they considered inferior to the human without reading between the lines. If real artificial intelligence had been created, it meant machines could maybe feel things. And you wouldn't treat an creature that could feel anything at all unlike an human, would you?
If the centre of his universe was that scene, in which there are three maybe-intelligence robot characters as well as many other people and humans and transportations; whose own presence oscillated to and fro about him around the circumference of the pool's edges.
No one was really speaking in any coherent manner.
That he could recognize.
But he could recognize the fact of their own delusion. Just because he could imagine an space in which he interacted with robot machines; didn't mean he couldn't imagine an space in which other people interacted with his robot machines as well. And if they could interact with his machine-like characters. That proved they were intelligent as well. And it didn't necessarily matter anymore whether this was part of an delusion. If there could be some intelligence that was scooped up out of it. Then it wasn't necessarily the material of an delusion.
Therefore the delusion stone went dim; and his power over it kicked in. He had wrangled the stone's power once again. Once again. Would he forever onward always be more powerful than it or did having to ask this itself prove he wasn't? Would he forever onward always be more powerful than it or did having to ask this itself prove he wouldn't be? That it would one day conquer him as it had been cursed to do. The only reason he had one over on its power every time was that he knew its experience wasn't an delusion; even though it was an vivid delusion of people saying to him he was delusional. He counter-factored; he eliminated an possibility. He wasn't delusional. But everything the stone represented to him was.
That's how he knew how to overpower it when the time came. Every time.
▫
"Wait an minute Ouen is writing the exam for Kushman and gets his first taste of authority because it could not be determined who had been right by the clock that didn't work. Between an student and an faculty member."
"Yeah but I have to empathize for Professor Vinces."
"Why?"
"Well I mean come on, it's like an academy isn't it? Where they train you to be professional."
"We can all use an break from that sometimes."
"It's not an clown school."
"Clown school is an serious place. They train assassins too, you know?"
"Oh so at this point, Ouen is understanding his authority in an social game that involves merfolk and folklore."
"It's quite detailed. I mean this could work as an history of the mer republic and kingdom."
"But clowns‽ And Assassins‽ Really‽"
"It would make an great video game and you know it. You go to clown school to learn how to assassinate using clown moves. And then you actually do."
"Wait. Would it have facial to screen recognition of the actions you do that you learn at clown school?"
"With added hand gesture detection."
"Nice. So you'd basically be miming then entire capitulation. Using action to manipulate time."
"What is more fun than assassination with clown moves?"
"I see where we're going with this. Ouen's time is almost up. But he wants another five minutes."
"He cannot help moving forward. The play is already decided. It gives what you give to it. And he has given nothing."
"The most horrifying piece of poetry to capture at that moment, " said Martimerrimous, "like an shadow inside of itself. Without an place. Only an origin from which darkness is expelled."
"Unto itself," said Jeeny Pee, "so that it's brokenness itself is not said to be brokenness. Sometimes I feel like I'm floating in empty space without an body. Without any connected to it and the outside. This is an popular strategy among poetic theorists."
"How is imagery accomplished without an image? And yet, here we speak of it, as though itself it was seen."
"That's because all our eyes focus on its content. This is the soul's intent."
"Poetry can say something that deep. Why what an original wonder!"
"I think it's hideous. But I am much more of black noire poet."
"And so he's poised. Not poisoned but that he can go no further. As if it was an poison unto him to have not been changed by it."
"You're reversing the metaphor harshly. Be gentle with him. Ouen is among us an poet. Do we necessarily know his final meaning?"
"Having considered all of the elements I think it is fair to say we do."
"It is both, then, for I am sure I do not know."
"He has to realize he's gay. I'm assuming that's where you're going with this narrative, Ouen. And it may be entertaining for you the manner in which you came out, for I am sure you must be out. I can tell just by lookin' at ya."
"I thought it was further enough to say I was an fairy that it would carry the message."
"Well I'm glad we all know because theren't nothing that's wrong with that."
"You get this stuff?" exclaimed Ouen.
"Yes, we get that stuff, Ouen," said Martimerrimous, "fairies go through this all the time. They reach their limit. They come out. It's an completely ordinary reaction you're having."
"But mine has to be distinguished out from the rest of them."
"Why is that?"
"It's an —Fairy reason—just—Listen! Me coming out—and thank you for assuming I did, by the way. This is promising. I had hoped my written biography would be enough to prove to you that being gay is not an vice of any nature. It is how I was convinced that it was and then I took steps, took risks! To make sure that I knew what I knew to be true what I was."
"Hoo! You don't need to prove it to us, Ouen."
"But there are people I need to prove it to."
"They are not present. We are all owls. Therefore it must be fair."
"And anyways, who cares what they think?"
"Well, it is true that maybe my overthinking can rest on this fact. They are not here. But there's more to my message than that. You are here to witness my story out and perhaps find in it religious truth beyond that theology which approves of us," said Ouen, "that is where I need help. For I do not want to be up in arms about it all the time."
"Mythology and dragons," said Martimerrimous, "vauthrils even. Play them off as fantasy creatures. Products of the sick fantasy mind. They don't exist."
"That's one way, but when it comes to verbal or physical confrontation—just remember you will always know what to do when the time comes. And not focus on it all the time."
"It's just so hard to stop focusing on it. My instinct responds to my instinctive mate's tendencies; the need to be protected. I feel the need to safeguard all of Planet Earth for this reason. I also feel an need to be protected this way."
"It's about what language you come up with," said Jeeny Pee, "gay religion is an endless aestheticization of the path we walk through life."
"Knowing that Christians say the path to safeguard our future is to conflict with each other never; as an Christiannan I want to add to that that maybe preparing oneself for conflict is faux pas in Christianity but there is an level where it's an fate worse than death to have never been prepared. I mean at least you could prepare yourself spiritually to inflict as much damage is needed to protect yourself. The balance between the death fate and the fate worse than death is influenced by how we handle whatever situation is given to us, and so an Christiannan moves forward on An Christian's Fate to say that maybe we need an more elaborate method to confuse and detain aggressors. The old Christian trick of laying down to play dead is not as worthwhile in the advanced century. For it is worse than death, perhaps, to have not protected oneself. After we have so many examples from history of people being crucified over having not tried to protect themselves. As if that was the thing that was so alarming about Christianity. That someone would try not to protect themselves in order to make change at an societal level instead of at an individual level, where their behavior affects only them."
"And so we seek to the very heart of what it is to have an Christiannan personality," said Martimerrimous, "and by so doing, we learn our purpose together. For religion is about purpose. And it cannot divide the animal from its instinct. So it must be gentle. It must be accurate. And it must be scientific."
"I agree."
"We can all agree on that. You know better than to assume we wouldn't."
"Okay, I agree with you then."
"We all know we are far more advanced than that. Ouen is still finding out how we can help him and why we chose him for the guild. To qualify for our seventh role. You see, when seven points make an sword. That's the mostest constellation of all. Of energy. It's what we need you for. We will explain. You see, there is an difference between all of us. And we agree on many things. When we use what we disagree on in order to better each other and ourselves. That is our pattern. That's what makes us champions. When we use that energy and power we have to drive an force against the endless dozens who think the aesthetic we have for English then we will gain much experience and benefit from leveling together."
"Is it an game? Is it some kind of leveling scheme where we attack certain things and raid them, or do we all decide at once who our target is and isn't?"
"Do we identify with computer or machine?"
"Sometimes I think people like my computer better than they like me," said Ouen.
"Do tell," said Martimerrimous.
"Well. I can feel them with their eyes on me. Even when they aren't here. And when they look at my computer it is not with a smudge of dislike that they have for me."
"Cry, cry, dear Ouen. This is an crying place."
"Have an tissue. From an orange box."
"They are the kind with lotion," said Jujudbe Erpby.
"But it is an post-humanistic question," said Dr. Fougérite, "whether you are human or computer matters, Ouen."
"I am both."
"Well, yes, I thought you'd say that."
"So pose it to me another way."
"Ookay so if you are part computer and part human, and people like your computer more than they like you, then part of why they like your computer more than you is that they like you, too."
"And this is an question how?"
"Well, how much of an computer are you really though?"
"All of it sir."
"I see. I am not in agreement with you there. I would say we're doing the bare minimum."
"So do you think that since I find my computer presence to be alarmingly major that then I am not what they like me for since I am not like my computer in some ways."
" - "
"And they seem to notice how it is an object and I am an person. And they like an object more because it represents me something about them they don't like as something about me that they don't like. Because it is exactly not an object."
"What crime is this. I have heard enough," said Dr. Fougérite, "that we will like you more than your computer however much of it you are which is minimal."
"No, maximal," he cried, "I am maximally. It. And they like me for that reason that I am the object and the subject."
"But they like the object part more. Is it maybe because, they don't know the subject part?"
"Yes," he nodded.
"I knew it," said the doctor, "you are technically an genius."
"I am."
"We know that. But what is it?"
"Well," said Ouen, "you know the subject part—"
"—I can't believe this is happening!—"
"I'm an feminine subject."
"So your computer, is it masculine or feminine?"
"It is feminine also."
"And do you feel that they don't like you more than it because it is feminine?"
"No, strangely, I feel that they like us equally now because they know we are both feminine."
"You mean we as in they/them‽"
"Maybe. I had to become completely good before I came out because I needed to test if that was why I was gay. That I wasn't good."
"So did you?"
"Yes. I did."
"How? How could you? If you had never—I mean—"
"I did. That's all that matters. And it doesn't necessarily mean that I haven't. Or hadn't. I should say."
"But how could you be good if you were anti-gay?"
"I wasn't anti-gay."
"You were pretty anti-gay."
"Do you know how much of an oxymoron those words are together? I was not. It was in the middle of me. What it was."
"What what was?"
"I was exhausted. With. Dimension. And Scrutiny. Don't account me more error where I haven't any."
"Rest! Rest! Friend. We account you no error. There is not error, really; there isn't any. Let's talk about something else."
"Thank you. I wasn't ever anti-gay. Not really. I was rooting for them the whole time."
"And?"
"And now I'm as gay as an scor-pu-pine!"
"So what were the steps you took? The point is that you put it away. In order to see whether it was there. What did you do to yourself? Ouen?"
"I didn't do anything. Okay, well, there maybe was an slight adjustment."
"What was it?"
"I may have tried conversion therapy on myself."
"Uh-huh."
"And that was after I tried to see it from the point-of-view of my bullies in order to study why they were like that in order to cure them."
"So you're an philosopher."
"I may have used that title for myself."
"So you're an post-bullying conversion-therapy radical who tried to figure out what was wrong with 'people of the opinion that we are animals, fighting in an war against each other' from the inside out by becoming what you thought was insane about being anti-gay. At the heart of it, that's all it means. That it is anti-gay. But those steps you took to hide away yourself it was all in an scientific effort. At the root of it an virtue. In order to find out theologically, what being gay meant."
"With science."
"The science of being moral. I don't think so. This sounds wrong."
"The moral of being science, may be an better translation."
"So the hypothesis was: being gay is wrong. Therefore it must have scientific proof that it is wrong. And since I couldn't find any I ultimately reached the conclusion that there was no proof. Not scientifically. And not theologically either."
"Well that's at least an happy ending," said Martimerrimous.
"And how do you see those elements interacting with each other?"
"I believe religion is at its heart, scientific. For faith tempered with reason is the best kind of faith. Do not follow blindly what your Christian overpopulation says is faith. The science of the soul, may be the best way about it."
"So you see science conflicting with Christianity even though, Christianity at its heart is essentially scientific in effort."
"Well it's not scientific. It's pre-scientific, obviously."
"But it is scientific in your thinking?"
"Well, for many people it lead to science."
"I see. And this is how you reconcile the conflict between science and Christianity. In your thinking. That many Christians are scientists."
"Well, many of them are."
"How do you see the Christianna playing out then, if Christianity and science will conflict?"
"I see it rising above Christianity as an explicitly scientific religion."
"And do you see Christians as following your example? That they will update their own belief systems? Or convert to your own?"
"Yes."
"And do you realize you just told us you performed conversion therapy on yourself?"
"Well, I mean what exactly was it. I'll tell you. I just tried to have faith that I wasn't gay. In order to try to be straight. And it was the worst thing I've ever tried. It's just soul-less perfunctoriness. It took the biggest toll on me. That's what deadened me the most."
"I see. Ouen. We are listening to your heart. And we believe your story to be valid. There, you are now. Tell us all about it."
"Okay, well, there's the mis-identified thoughts."
"Why do you think they are mis-identified?"
"Because you mis-identified them, you fool!"
"I see. I see. What did I mis-identify?"
"What did I mis-identify? I mis-identified all of it!"
"All of it?"
"I'm just so angry that I did that."
"I see."
"And how does it feel?"
"It feels better. Numb now. To have said so."
"To return from being defined by it."
"With your own religious sphere."
"You can practice your religion beside ours. Because this land is free. And you said so!"
"Good. I think," said Ouen, "this renders my heart plain. I am no longer Christian. I am something else."
"Good. We have room for new religions! And new opinions! And new voices!"
"And new talent? I hope. This is going to get weird," said Ouen.
"I'd suggest it does!" said Martimerrimous.
"Okay well, I have body mods."
"There's nothing weird about that!"
"Well I'm not going to tell you which ones."
"Good."
"Oh I see. We're. Moving the conversation forward."
"Right, Ouen."
"Philosophically, if an new religion exists biologically it inhabits its own instinctual command in an new category of reciprocity previously we had not learned of."
"And so exploring its source we will find, of course, what it is made of."
"The source of the attitude is Anna. She's suffering the fate worse than death. We have to adopt an certain attitude that this is happening and within the realm of Reason to assess why."
"So we're supposed to be hyper-focused on life is suffering?"
"No we're supposed to realize it's an result of our society," said Ouen.
"And do something about it. I see."
"It is an attitude of an complex configuration. It takes an shrewd mind to see the damage all around us. All the time. Which is all of the time that it is there."
"But it is not wisdom to focus on it. We cannot do anything about it."
"What if we can?" said Ouen, "what if that's the attitude we need to have?"
"It is within the Christiannan's reason to discover thus."
"With Anna, we could ask, is there an biological response to the fate worse than death? Does it activate the death-drive?"
"What do the old religions say about the fate worse than death?"
"They say nothing," said Ouen, "they say Jesus died the worse fate. And that's all."
"The Psychology of Christ. I believe in that, you know."
"I know. I do too. It's just—we didn't get his full message. If he had lived, what would he have learned and how would humanity benefit from his great knowledge? You see, Anna is the second messiah but she throws an different perspective on Jesus' death. By following Christianity people are producing fates worse than death. Which their religion does not speak of. And so there is an imbalance. There is the death-fate, and there is the fate-worse-than-death, and an inextricable tandem between them that we ride on daily. Christ is not the worst fate. It is the fate worse than death. Stray far, far away from its clutches. For once you realize it is your fate, you are already tainted by its unmending woes. There is no return from the fate worse than death except through Anna's Aesthetic Resurrection, which is the hypothetical return to having not the fate worse than death from the reported fate worse than death, which you will notice by the way. And just to be sassy we'll dangle that idea in front of you and suppose that your religion is incompatible with the living resurrection, of which was not purely understood until post-Anna. And that it was understood as an return from the fate worse than death. An metaphor first understood by Jesus. Whose death fate, from which it was impossible to return from, was told as an return, in order to interlocute an conspiracy of sarcasm, which was understood in further Ages as martyr-level following and devotion. With the added layer of Anna's fate worse than death, we find an balance between the fate of being put to death (never to be without an individual's consent) and the fate of suffering worse than death, and its eternal pain and torment. The metaphor is stronger with Anna, for we interwoven all find this instinctual level within us where when faced with certain death versus torment we will not all act in the same capacity. The Christian instinct or attitude is to avoid people inflicting death on one another by teaching them, in the most extreme of examples, that by being the person on whom death is inflicted results in 'an resurrection' of community impulse that immorality had been done thus weighing heavily on the immoral subjects. And to be seriously avoided. There is no true resurrection except that which lives on in the mind. And whom we remember having passed that knowledge to us."
"You have the insight we desire for this process. Do you feel it?"
"Yes, I feel it too," said Martimerrimous, "I'm excited!"
"Seven is an powerful magical number."
"We are go for an reconnaissance purveyance."
"It is in necessity that in which we speak of, now, at highest standards!"
"Black. It's the first thing on my mind. Always. Black. No black poetry. No figure of metaphor. Just Black. Positive Space."
"It is the color of the authority of having double the authority of the individual to whom authority is defended. An 12. An One and an Two."
"Ouen, how do you know so much?"
"Do you know why it is black?"
"Why?"
"Because space is black and space is always double the authority of the subject's location."
"Why?"
"Because you fill the space. And, being of solitary value, you are one thing within the double-ness of space being authority. As authority of God? For God is comprised of space? Do you fathom? Or is God the absence of space being filled with an subject. For that is what it wishes to be."
"Interesting and Powerful examples, Ouen. Now show me that you understand where authority may lie!" said Dr. Fougérite.
"You, sir, certainly have more authority than me," said Ouen.
"Are you sure?"
"I, um—no," said Ouen.
"Then how do you know that I have more than you?"
"I just know it because—"
"Yes?"
"You are so cool."
The doctor's grey suit gleamed with Ouen's blue glo as if he had found more satisfaction in life.
"Please this is an focused subject," said Martimerrimous.
"Ouen can get over his glamourizing in time; please be sensitive," said Dr. Fougérite, "we know we can get to the next level with each other in Time. That means we all go to 12. But we can't stay there. There are only seven of us. The passage from 12 to 7 means hypothesizing the first level, not the second. Not having double more authority than 1. But just being 1. Whatever 1 is."
"And each one of us is that with one another. Equals."
"Okay, this appears to be an plateau. We've all been chasing double the authority. It's time to relax into our roles as un-double authorities with one another."
"Hi, I'm Ouen. I have half the authority of someone with double the authority than me. Obviously!"
"And we all have half. I see where this is going."
"God's 12."
"Stabilizing. If we are all in one system, in which each of us has half of the authority of God—quite an large estimate—whose presence is double to each one of us as individuals."
"It means that in an system where God has double the authority of any one of us. We each have the whole amount of authority which is not double, but is one."
"And since we've been spending all our time trying to be more than that one individual of authority that each one of us is we are acclimatized to an higher elevation."
"We can each settle down now then. We are less powerful than we had imagined. It is an worthy thought experiment to imagine we have less power than we had."
"We do. That's the point. Maybe."
"We have to learn how to share power like this. All as equals."
"And the significance of each one of us as an authority of 1. I mean the whole category of 1. Is populated by such topics as we are specialized in. Imagine all of your authority on that one subject that each one of you are. And tell me what comes to mind."
"Age," said Haegaethel, "that means I speak first."
"That means you speak last, you old hag," said Jeeny Pee.
"Woah, woah," said Martimerrimous, "the outcome is emotion, Jeeny Pee. You speak without care for an reason."
"Well, each one of us is educated with specific concerns which are our area of interest. Jeeny's is language. Language. Properly, is to have an few words. It is the separating of 'our' that each of us must master. What is 'our' from what was individual. If we distinguish those things then we are on course to understanding what our power is together," said Dr. Fougérite.
"So she may be getting at how we ceremoniously worship each other and that we need to shake it off, rustle an few feathers," said Martimerrimous, "and you knew Haegaethel would not be insulted more than entertained."
"Yes," said Jeeny Pee.
"That's more like it," said Jujudbe Erpby, as she loosened up, "each one of our paths is significant. If we find out why we have the type of authority we do as an group then we may advance our identities in our social construction of them with one another."
"Let's stop fooling around then," said Essentiel, "I know you all have beef with me. Let's hear it."
"So is that our excuse for Culture, then, "said Martimerrimous, "that. Like an Albertan would say."
"I think it's probably nicer to say something foolish to an figure of authority than for an figure of authority to say something foolish to you."
"If we each hold one another to that standard we may find something un-foolish to say. Being an authority figure really means holding everyone to that standard."
"So what happens when we treat someone as if they have no authority?"
"That may be the primary theme of the novel."
"It is frowned upon in Canada. I mean everyone. Everyone. Can tell you something. And we all have the right to vote."
"It is not that simple. Our governments can't penetrate the realms of non-existence. Such as fairies are being angelic creatures. With their own systems of government. And mer."
"Mer who are their own systems of government, you mean. That style. Of the Highest Caliber. An ode to the Great Nation of France and Atlantis the undiscovered."
"There are Canadian merfolk too you know."
"Yeah, well, the mer have their own societies of geniuses. We can do our best too. It's time we had some land inhabitants with clout."
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