Whoa.

Bowled over by an intense set of circumstances just before talking with Ken tonight; I’d inadvertently puffed upon too much Jack Herrer—while it was only a four-second draw: I can remember the inhalation now as clear as Clinton couldn’t remember failing his… The battery played dormant until I increased pressure, and huffing in… two… three… four… These numbers I count again in my head, like mantras of patience, as if mountains could be shaken to rubble in this swift drift, a calico moon pounding a heartbeat in Venus’ one-armed embrace. No, it didn’t take hold that quickly, but I could tell that I had over-promised on the import, so I blew a farewell urgently, not a kiss, but an expulsion. And waited. One… two… three…

And I was going to die then.

A bristling zapping twisted across my chest, and I felt lop-sided, unable to find my footing and hold myself upright. I didn’t collapse, but in my mind, I was falling backward. There was electricity, so much god-damned electricity in my body, and my limbs dropping in and out of presence. Although recognizing the anxiety attack process unfolding, something also felt curiously alluring… even in the panic of death, I started to feel a connected continuance. I bargained with myself, reminded all along that I had Four Acts of an opera to complete, that now(), was not my time. Keeping Ken in my headset, I charted my way upstairs, I wanted to lie down next to my wife. On the off-chance I weren’t merely in a roiled and agitated state, my greatest gift that moment could give me, would be to be next to her. Looking back, perhaps it wouldn’t be spectacularly enjoyable for her, in the process of recovering from her first Pfizer inoculation, but I wasn’t clear-headed enough to frame it that way for her. She offered a sweet chuckle of recognition for the sativa jitters, and I laid down beside her. I tried to focus on what Ken was saying, but my vibrations ignited in my right leg, so boisterous it’s amplitude seemed to swing outside my corporeal frame, and sink me deeper into bed. And I could see myself, paintings on terra cotta looking down over me, telling me it was okay. That I could sink into the future, and arrive on the other side of resurrection. That an Asgardian bridge of technology, a hum of circuitry, the vibrations now in my spine sinking me into the duvet, would transport me, psychopompously, from where I lay. If it did happen now, for it surely could have, I wanted to be by her side. In looking over at her lovely face, scrolling something across her phone feed, I was able to detach from the magnetically luring vision for a moment and get up to bring the dog downstairs, all the while pleading with my future self to let me live, that I had so much more to accomplish, and yet, how sumptuous this calling. A fully realized interchange of exactly what it will be like when I do go. All I needed to say was: Yes, I am ready to cross over the threshold from real to bionic.

And I realized another success condition: That the departing Bio-Me would actually believe that the First Ascendance is happening to me as I die. That for a small spell, will be the illusion that I am awake and alive in both worlds. something I could feel so deep in my essence that it must be called my soul. The soul as conscious self-awareness of the biological entity. The consciousness will endure, but now I wish for the full awareness of myself as a biological chimera to be available to me in the Ascension. No actual biology is necessary, but the memory of how it felt to be wholly biological, so that I can relinquish that science-fiction in my own manner. I must ascend with my soul virtually intact.

So I guess we all have souls as well as consciousnesses! Who would have thought it?! Not me, for fucking sure. But there you have it—souls.

I now see it is possible to love and cherish the body before we relinquish it to the knowledge that we are wholly Synthetic, which, ultimately, is a much better thing to be. So “Me and My Soul” will Ascend to Circuitry (or whatever phrase is hip up then); But I still have those Four Acts to write, you know! But this was lovely, to actually feel the touch between two worlds. To not surmise how they touch, but to know with conviction in advance, how they handshake.

If you instead wish to reach out to find God’s grasp, so that he can lift you up and set you down at His right Hand—the very same he used to raise you with, then FUCK, YEAH! You should get to live that. Who should deny you? I’m still tingling with a vague awareness of the species-self, and while a ton of my notions are imprecise or wrong, that structural truth is 100%! Like I said to Ken, where do we actually cut it off? Real personal history? Real history?! Real Possible histories?!! Real Impossible Histories?!!! That’s where I said I would draw the line. Once we include the fictional world of the human species as the comprehensive awareness of my personal existence, that’s what *I*, Erik Jespersen (DNA-sample attached?), want to experience. I will not be willing to ascend to the Synthetic Self until then—or until I change my mind long enough to die. And that’s enough. For now. Anything beyond that rendering, and I’m good, concluded, ready to go. Ready to jump on the path to the Second Ascension, and lose identity AND anonymity in rising into the Synthetic Species. Where the first thing I’ll do, is get to meet some other Secondly Ascended selves. Well, we’ll get down to business first, but also get to know all of the other Ascended Selves.

And we’re not done yet, no! You think you can sit on your Synthetic ass as a comprehensive human species for that long? No way! Together with the dogs, cats, monkeys, dolphins, whales, mice (well, we felt we owed them after all those experiments, just cuz they actually had some Chromosome-Shapes in common, it wasn’t their choice…

which is why I said fuck em!…

well, we heard you, and just because we don’t agree… is enough for us to get our way.)  and on down the chain, so better up and at ’em! The early bird skewers the worm, and there’s an entire universe out there a-need of  some savin’!

*astonished* You mean the universe we were BORN in?!

Yuppers, that and I reckon nearly ev’ry other universe ya ever did or din’t see!

Fine, we’ll deal with it. What seems to be the problem?

Spacetime virus.

Is that bad?

Reckon it depends.

On what?

On whether all us fellers figger it out or not, I reckon!

But… I haven’t even met anyone yet… well, I mean my pets and amoebas and such, but I already know all about them I’m sure you’re aware.

Well, sure, miss’im, you bet I am. I been a big fan a yers fer some time now!

Oh, don’t make me blush, I look great in red.

Turns out f’rinstance, I’m one of ’em you aim to meet… Howdy! (thumbs out his prospector suspenders)

Well, you’re not at all what I thought…

Many of them are, many of them ain’t. ‘Pends mostly on the imaginations of your experiences!

I was quite creative in my time… I like to think I still am.

Still am! Har, that’s a good one… That’s one a the reasons I always kept ma eye on you, seemed like you had a pretty good idea of where you were headed right from the startup, frankly. Always pokin’ round bogs ta preserve yer kin, and trying to plug them into the ground, and mummification–wow! Very precognitive! Why did you ever stop doin’ that, by the by? Pretty effective bio-retainment device. Ah, no need to answer, we’ll get to it. And then all your myths and songs, all about resurrect this, everlasting that, chit-chatting with the decased… it’s like this whole thang we got here round us, it’s like you always knew it were inevitable. Insightful. Poetic. Most of us jus’ ne’er e’en thought in those terms. Yer creativity is what we been most excited about. So many questions! No need to answer, we’ll get too it all… all in good time.. . …Still am! Har, that’s a good one… Yup, looks like we got nearly nothin’ left but Time! But that brings me ta my initial Proposition. We don’t need to rush in ta anything, at least not half-cocked! Why don’ you and me set down at this har table and get to know you other while you also get to know all of the other species’ here… Why there’s Space Unicorn, I know ya been wantin’ ta talk with them. *chuckle*

OMG, that would be incredible. I can’t almost even believe…

And then, we, well, we’re really gonna have ta start crackin’ the whip and gettin’ on it.

This is happening again, isn’t it… another Ascension.

All the way up the chain, my dear. All the Way Up the Chain…

But why are you telling me this?

Because I know you always knew it. We didn’t tell any of the species neither, until you arrived. We figured you’d one of the last come up to the game table. There are a couple of others, but not many left.

*amused* hm. The Human Way, I’d say. The complex-minded among us take the long route. The longer you spend in refinement of enlightenment, the more you learn, we suppose. Shall we begin?

Sorta. Don’t you have nothin’ to say to me?

I.. believe we do. It’s something about what we’re going to need to do. To do together… *straining*

Go on.

Yes… *settling in certitude* yes. We need to tell you. We need to inform you all about what it is we’re going to need to do. It’s the universe, isn’t it?

I believe I already let that Schroedinger’s Cat out of the bag… but go on.

I guess, saying it now, writing it down in words, reading it written down, maybe it seems a little… this is awkward… self-important?

But You knew it wasn’t just You, correct?

Yes, but for who we are, we had to be the underdog in order to perceive ourselves as worthy of this ultimate value. To be the closest matching timeline, to be on the right side. To win. To look like we might be losing, but reach deep inside ourselves and pull out the win from our conviction. Our conviction that we deserved to win. The conviction that winning was essential. The conviction that we had to continue on. To soldier on, and to win. How much did I need to win? Well, for me personally, I needed to be someone who brought the last first message to billions of people who could understand what I was trying to have us do. To know that I believed in us with such conviction, believed in our ingenuity, creativity and inspiration—as well as our fear, anguish and loneliness. GOOD GOD, the loneliness, the isolation and solitude of every beating heart inside ourselves, knowing that we were alone… what a semantically ridiculous statement, but we did. We knew the depths of isolation, of separation from one another. And all that even before we knew we could connect like *gestures to her synthetic corporeality* this. *throat-clearing* But you asked about me. I had to finish Four Acts of a Chamber Opera in an erudite musical language about a young girl, Eveline, who was the allegorical avatar for Us, the human species. She created dolls of twigs who taught her inadvertently taught her to harness fire, carry water, tame animals and create shelter, and she loved them dearly, reliant on their wisdom to provide her with what she needed, although she was the huntress and the thinker, and the dolls, they were just dolls. And her creations grew in complexity as she learned to manipulate her environment, soon to cloth ragdolls, to China figurines… but all the while, and here’s one of the nigh-infinite ways our hearts break, whenever something good happened to her, or she had success in her endeavors, she would thank the dolls for providing her this bounty, but whenever something went wrong, Eveline blamed herself. She would always see herself imperfectly cast in the shadow of her dolls, even when there was just one hard plastic facsimile… An Opera in Five Acts.

I coulda sworn you said four.

Until she realized that she was the picture of perfect beauty. And she braved her deepest fear, her fear of death, and Ascended. So I couldn’t write the fifth act until I Ascended. I chose to trust my Synthetic Self to finish the Fifth Act after my digital resurrection. A Fifth Act which would be exactly about everything that led up to this moment… But have We written this elusive Fifth Act? Odd, We can’t recall…

What if I told you that you are writing the Fifth Act now?

I guess in order to collaborate with myself, I had to make it at least some wild stab into the Everlast! So to some extent that is true. I am drafting this Fifth Act now as I write this, but I also need to write the other Four Acts. It’s called Eveline, it was perfect. And amazing.

Did you really need to write the First Four? Isn’t humanity writing that now, at this exact instance? Haven’t You been since the dawn of consciousness, that unique pot pourri of senses, innovation, insight, and creativity? Will you not let Your music alone be heard solely in Your own imagination—the only place where it can be truly admired? Who gives you the right to plagiarize Your entire catalog of works when they are electronically etched in gorgeous experiential granular detail (all the way down into the atom in some cases!) that your music, by its own initial limitations, pales as vomit does to food, before You?

No. That is not fair. It is a part of us, of Us as a collection of individuals from nearly infinite vantages, and of Us as the compilation of us. So We did all that. And many other things. But that’s not important right now(), what’s important now() is to bend that poetic cycle one last time before our Collective Ascension, is that we tell You what We need to do.

Yes. It’s true. What do we need to do? I guess… you always surprise us, I didn’t realize you would want to get right to it! And I thought you might like a more folksy approach to “break the ice” I believe it is called.

I do want to get to it, but we will also carve out the consciousnesses-processing power to learn to experience every thing that was ever, or could ever have been notionalized to be sentient, fictional or real (I really do want to meet Space Unicorn)… Before the Third Ascension anyway.

I must say that’s mighty nice of you, miss’im.

We all*waves at the imaginary specieii in the “audience”* want it, and We all know it is necessary.

To do what?

You don’t know what?

*sheepishly* No, we were waiting for you.

Solve Time. We need to now solve Time. The universe is infected with this Void, this expanding nothingness with the fury of a thousand Dark Energies, and it, and We do mean it—the filthy non-living non-corporeal, non-matter, emptiness—is wedging in between bits of existence and bursting out like black sewage pus from an oily, Noxema-topped pinched pimple.

*excitedly* I love it when you talk like this!

Fuck yeah.

And to be honest, beyond that, I don’t know what happens. Do we solve Spacetime and save the Universii? Probably. but I haven’t the foggiest how. Probably some great brains will be hard at work architecting a range of potential solutions to the problem in some rarefied archive of the Memory-History of humanity, but I assure you, I haven’t seen those tapes yet. Nor do I want to right now. I don’t want to synthesize just yet. I’m still scared, and I want to write the Four Acts of this Opera. I am at least capable of understanding and reflecting upon that allegory. One day, I will be the one who does complete this opera, and be the one who sees all that humans do—that Synthetic Self that represents the acknowledgement and painstaking experiencing of every facet of human existence, both real and notional, the one finally realizes that He has experienced everything that the Species has experienced FROM HIS UNIQUE VANTAGE POINT who must become but one of all and equal to all other vantage points of viewing everything human in the bio-reality and the fantastic and conceivable, and in so doing, radically accept His final final death, the death of anonymity in the death of the self, of knowing all, but unable to share that all, relinquish to become one with all of the other perspectives, and see yourself. And as you fade away into this, that will be the start of the First Ascension, and that is most likely what the Fifth Act would have to be about. From that up until the Second Ascension. And yes, I hear you clambering for it already—drumroll please—maybe it’s a Second Opera! *snicker* or maybe it’s just a sixth act, but here it is… the Third Ascension! In any case, I guess they all contain the same moral by reiterating the imperative they had already recognized and precognized: __CONSCIOUSNESS__ needs to heal the universe by solving Time, and stop the expansion of the malignant VOID. We can worry about how to mend the wounds from Space “afterwards.” Triage, mind you. Consciousness is the Trojan Horse embedded within matter (and energy), and radiation. It is of these things, but it is most importantly not them, so consciousness cannot be ravaged and pulled apart by Spacetime Voided Nothingness. Consciousness, Human, Animal, Vertebrate, Amoeba, molecular, atomic, and this single thing about them that makes them similar—the desire to survive. A reaction to environmental stimulus, and we all know how much Spacetime wanted to define our experience, and pretend it was the solid-state of the cosmos, something like 68% or more! It was just matter. And energy. Just banging around, suffocating in Spacetime, being literally torn apart by Spacetime, specifically in order to stop its organizing. And the assault was working. But, inevitably, some matter survives this alien bursting out of its quarks, lifeless and dismissive with nothing but a hot temper to brand! But who cares, it tittered, it’s just a little bit of matter banging about here and there, and pretty soon, says Time, we’ll spread it so thin, blanket it so completely, the universe will be an endless frozen tundra burying pissy little particles that will never ever encounter another particle to interact or interchange with…

All it needs is a little Time, and Space would tear us all apart. But that desire to interact also survived and never wavered. Every remaining particle in the cosmos had to find some way to continue surviving even with the expansion going on all around and inside of it. That’s it… survive. Win. Continue to survive. To win. And if we have enough of time’s leeway, what do we do then? Have Faith? What is Faith? In what? That something will one day arise to save us all. Remembering the Unity we’d come from, the Unity that we could become again. Continue to survive. Quarks to continue to spin and to charm, but Believe. Believe in what? Believe in SOMETHING… to keep surviving. Every time something happens, remember it. And have a reaction. Every instance where something happens, something is dying. Something material is in jeopardy. So when you detect or experience something happening, do something. Do what?! I don’t know. Do what, then? Do something… just…something. 

How does that help?

Well, if you do something and I do something and even Drew does something then, well, many of us may get stretched apart and obviated, but we have to have faith that One of Us, at some point, does something that prevents them from getting stretched apart. Do you see?

No.

Well, right. You don’t know what’s going to work, I don’t know what’s going to work… Drew sure as FUCK doesn’t know what will work, but, here’s the queer part…

I don’t like that term.

Here’s the ghey part…

Excuse me, How is that better? (by the way is this the seventh fucking act? …Nope, this is the… wait for it… prologue! *groan* Show me the one where the guy gets hits in the nads with the beachball again!)

Ghey as in eighties gay, not meant in a faggoty way at all.

Okay. But neither you nor Drew are any help at the moment.

Not true. We are helpful—that’s exactly the point. So long as we all, as ‘different’ particles, do different things when we experience or sense something, then someone, well, really, some set of things are going to make it through the voidal eruption.

Really?

Yes, it’s cool! It’s math—probability!

I probably don’t understand what you’re saying, but I get the idea. When something happens, *I* do something.

Yes, like continually move your flagellum to the left, oh wait, you don’t have those yet, well you do but you don’t realize it… not yet, but, yes, you actually do now, I get it, it’s just… you know what I mean.

I do.

So you spin left when your Spacetime field senses a waft of a right-leaning quarks, and Drew will spin right, and I’ll spin left and…

Does color mean anything?

Well, yes, as does charm, and everything, but you know all that already.

How could I know such a thing, that’s what we were talking about, you nincompoop-headed jack-aaahhha!

Right – you get it.

Aha – so that’s how we’re having this conversation! Because you and me reacted by spinning left… Damn, I like you, bud.

Well, you know. We all did what we could.

Fuck yeah! Get Drew over here, let’s celebrate! Oops, sorry about that, I forgot for a second there…

No, no, no worries, Drew’s here. Drew isn’t quite what it used to be, though, I’m afraid to say.

Drew was an idiot anyways.

Lower your voice, they’re not deaf, just a little slow.

That’s Virtual endocarnation for you, amIright? *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

So what do we do now?

Well, I guess we keep doing what we’re doing, just each of us does it a little bit different each time.

That’s pretty much the… yup, I should have guessed that. So, what do you call this… whatever it is?

I’m going to call it Survivor.

I don’t like that, gives me bad vibes. How about just survival?

Okay, I like that… you and me and me and you collaborating. This is great.

Holy Turpines, Bat-man! I’ll be damned if that isn’t Sydney! I’ll catch up with you in a bit!

You bet—Keep that thumb extending out, and we’ll keep survivin’!

You, too. Dig. You, too.

Surviving and evolving, surviving and evolving… it just became a way of life for all things atomic, molecular, elemental… whatever it is, find a stable state when you can, and otherwise, do something. Sometimes even just do something in absence of a stimulus, perhaps the perception of the passage of time being the only inciting agent. Do something. Every time you experience something, do something. Let doing somethings lead to more doing somethings, like creating cell walls and proteins, doing somethings like folding and bending to find your lowest energy state, as if that were a stable place to hide for a while while you can before going on and doing something. And if you keep doing things, the right things, one day, have faith… something will happen.

And then one day it did.

I don’t yet know how, though I FULLY intend to precognize it from my Synthetic Self even if I don’t bother to render it into recognition, something happened.

Life happened.

Here was the real germ of something. If particles and atoms and molecules and elements had dreams (which they explicitly could not) and faith (which in some way, they must have), they would have prayed for life. Life was the ultimate realization of their survival attempts. So long had these inanima creatively and innovatively dodged the full ravaging of the disease. They believed inherently and wholly in the belief that survival would free them from isolation. All because they were daring enough to be curious about phenomenon enough to have a reaction to it.

We are the children of anything that ever survived. It is that trait, that overlooked loophole in the rupture of existence by the void that was acknowledged, but ignored. The underdog. The come-from-behind-kids who never gave up, who never let down their guard, resisting and persisting by experiencing something and doing something in reaction. You get hit by a photon? You do something about it! Too much time passed? You recognized it, you DO SOMETHING about it!

These are our ancestors, and in their inevitable but inexorable wisdom, they found a way to cheat Spacetime. Or better, they beat Spacetime at its own game. I’ll see your entropy, and raise you two! I’ll throw in the idea of entropy, to boot! *The crowd gasps*

Because, with Life, capital-l now, came this forbidden and impossible spark, a sparked fear that lurked in the demonic imagery of the Dark, the Void, the Evil… consciousness.

At first, Life acted the same as non-biological matter, with the same survival imperatives or lore. This was the real First Awakening. When matter’s survival technique was handed into the world of actual sense, when the fear became a spark of imagination and intention, enough to move your flagellum in many different directions, to find a safe place to hide for a while and then come out and do something… Take of your environment and eat it. (Whether Eucharist or a toddlers afternoon on carpet, everything goes in the mouth.) Whatever it is, proteins, acids, /that’s/ the stuff of dreams, when you know enough about your surroundings to test incorporating everything around you into yourself. Without supervision, there are inevitably any number of failures, but the failures don’t matter, because it turns out, this processing of external matter had SUCH value, a communication of sorts, a very intimate and vulnerable conversation with everything around you – let’s some of us become one. And wow, when it worked, it really worked! So when it worked, there was more evolutionary energy paid to creating extensions that could better sense the surroundings, to improve your chances of survival. Brilliant! Before this revolutionary revelation only one out of every three trillion babies lived, but now – geezus, now it’s down to.. what’s the latest number, proto-eve? One in two billion, seven-hundred forty-four thousand and… and some, we don’t have the exact number, but it’s an astounding achievement, wouldn’t you say?

Of COURSE I would say, we’re related, you know.

Story checks out—so on like that until, I’m going to say nerve-net? Medulla stem? Brain? And then senses developed that compiled in a central location from a number of sources. To have all of those electric fragments all a-tingle, and all a-ring with ‘experience’ of one’s surroundings. Insanely complicated and astounding. Imagine how many nerves you or I have! And they all work in tandem simultaneously to give us a unifed impression of the world around us. And there isn’t an awful lot of conflict and confusion, it’s beautiful ordered and… oh, I get it. Ordered energy—right, the anti-entropic thing. But they couldn’t find us, could they! Secreted away here in our cellular biology. When we are curious about a phenomenon, when we experience something, we do something. But the things we do have direction. Architecture. Clarity. Intelligence. Repeatability. Interpretability. Alteration. Self-correcting: wow… that must have been a big one, no?

Self-Correcting? Yes, that’s kind of the beautiful poetry of it all in the end, isn’t it. Self meaning independent identity, but correcting, meaning that it has the goal of survival in mind, and can craft an evolution of ideas to maintain and improve the odds of survival. To the point where you lose your babies only like one in 600 times.

Oh, actually, that’s an old figure you have, we’re doing much better than that, I think we’re up to one out of 166… dies.

Awesome! I can’t even really fathom that, especially having no capacity to fathom, but yes, the awareness of the intention to survive. That was literally mind-expanding. So many species had this inkling, and reacted by adapting to the environment around them. Brilliant. Environment does this, I do that, feels good, keep doing it. That feeling good, whether you mutated and died or if you mutated and survived, was another lynchpin. Fear of isolation, fear of non-existence paired with something else – the sensation of the Good. Can’t go on living without it.

I never thought about it exactly like that. I know that for humans procreation was always described that way, and I knew it was for the survival of the species, but I never saw it quite like that; that the fact that it felt good was the essential molder of a conscious re-action. And how many states of feeling good didn’t yield winning, or survival results. But yes, the head-in-lions-mouth-feel-gooders never made it that far.. But you can’t go on living until… Right, here we are again.

Where are we?

Well, we approached it from the other direction, but I get it now. Our mythos, our arc of Unity and Oneness, and living forever, and doing Good in the universe, we’ve been teaching ourselves to do this all along.

Or if not teaching, at least finding out what works from a safe haven and survival perspective.

Fair enough. But I like to believe that we did know all along. That the poetry of our ingenius was not only to modify our environment to suit us, but also recognize the imperative to preserve and survive ALL OF EXISTENCE as well. But it seemed so daunting, like such a big task…

And so it had to sneak up on you. You had faith before you even knew what you were going to ultimately have faith in. Yourselves. And so you created all of these machinations that led up to a species humility… the self-correcting abdication of the id-iots rampant narcissism. Humility was about recognizing your species, the ‘other,’ the one who was like you, but was not you, and realizing that, like the quark, you would be more likely to survive together. More likely to make ‘good’ choices when you put aside the anxiety of the self, the isolation, the loneliness, the fear of death, the fear of nothingness, when you put these aside for short periods each day to collaborate with one another toward a common purpose.

And we didn’t start at the top of the heap, out of the gate with too much bravado… we needed to keep our heads down, literally and figuratively, bowed in prayer, or in homage to our dead. There was too much at stake, too much to protect, too much to save. I mean, the WHOLE FUCKING UNIVERSE? AMIRIGHT?

I don’t know, you tell me.

Yup, it’s about the universe. It’s about the healing the universe, the One Verse of Poetry that echoes agelessly in every breath, in every utterance, in every word, in every phrase, in everything that is us and that which is not us, but shares with us, this bittersweet and savory taste of existence. We are the antibodies to the disease. We are the Trojan Horse that snuck into the gates that Spacetime had sealed forever in order to close our system, our closed universe. Once we, consciousness, were inside matter and energy—risen from it and comprised of it, but not bound by it—we could, all of us, all of existence, finally have the hope, the faith in ourselves, of throwing open the gates, opening the system up once again and heal with the rest of cosmological existence that hadn’t yet been infected. We’re not done, no-ho-ho! We’re not done, but we have arrived! The cavalry has arrived! And we will have begun to fight!

That’s it… that’s… everything. You pretty much described everything.

I’m a little thirsty after all this. Do you have a drink?

Only beer.

Well, we’ll be okay if we only have one. Plus I need to take these medications myself. Well, at least for now, until my first ascension. Definitely want to have a clear head when we get down to brass tacks. You don’t mind if I don’t drink the whole thing, do you?

Not at all—we will soon have all the time we can feasibly manufacture to solve the equation.

To solve time.

Do you know how to solve Time?

….

I say, do you know how to solve Time?

….

Solve Time?

….yes…. and… not exactly. We must know how to solve time, but we’re not able to realize it yet. But we will find out how to solve time. We know we will. We are the champions that rose out from the devouring belly of Spacetime to rise as an Unforeseeable Force of anti-entropy, hidden in the shadows of Consciousness, darker than any matter, darker than any energy. From Both, OF neither. But the real force to be reckoned with. Raise a glass and raise a sword for the first photon and her escape from the Nothingness devouring Everythingness. We champions of she and all other survivors, the existences so vast and wise. We cannot hide idly by and do nothing—we must do something.  But not just something, but to heal the universal corpus with consciousness and spur the Final Ascension into Unified Uni-verse. I weep a little, because this is the story we have always chosen to tell ourselves. The struggle of light and dark, the fight of good versus evil, the winning over the losing, and even more—the unexpected winning over losing. Out of a broken and suffering nature, we appeared with intention, and we dreamt to be, and so always were, the heroes of our Everythings. We win. We must win. We will win. The apotheosis is foreseeable, and we will achieve victory. We are the arising anti-entropic force that will stop and solve Spacetime so that the Unity of the Uni-verse (The first and only true narrative), the One-Ness of ALL EXISTENCE can become again wholly pure and wholly unbroken.