Noun. A portmanteau word denoting the hybridization of reality and illusion.

Prologue: That Train Man Cliché

The time has come for me to cross over. The date is 21.12.2012, and – after years of scrutiny – I know how to open an ancient window of transcendence. Not a new concept by any means, of course, but even clichés become a novelty when you test them empirically. I am in an expensive hotel room somewhere in London. I have spent all my money on one hell of a blast, the details of which will not be released to the public. All the candles are lit as the room transmogrifies into a chamber of dilettante occult practices.

I focus on infinity. Not knowing why, the “how the hell can you teach creative writing?” question bolts through my mind. Extemporaneity – that’s where it’s at! You can set stuff in stone ( sometimes literally ) later.

I look at a screaming newspaper headline.

GLOBAL MARTIAL LAW IMPOSED AS CRISIS SPIRALS OUT OF CONTROL

Strange times, where parents become hapless victims of systemic mind-control while children see through the charade and attempt to think for themselves. Then again, at one point in my life I thought adults were incarnations of perfection. Only after sticking around for long enough did I realize how naïve I had been – adults are as lost in the systemic edifice as their offspring – if not more so.

“Yeah” I snidely remark. “You all deserve what’s coming. You’re partying your ass off while I searched for answers. Guess who’s gonna throw a party now …”

***

“What makes you think I even exist?” I look at a shabby middle-aged man scanning my every move.

“Excuse me?” I reply and look around. No shock, nothing. Just a sudden scenery change. From what I am able to gather, I am standing in front of St. John The Divine Cathedral.
“What makes you think I even exist?” the man asks again, as if demanding an answer this time.

“Do you know why you’re homeless?” I raise my right hand.

The man does not answer. In fact, he is just standing there, transfixed.

“Cause you philosophize your life away” I affirm. “And silver tongue has one major flaw: it can easily be cut off.”

***

The homeless man disappears and a tall Caucasian figure emerges from the Cathedral.
Golf clap. Golf clap. Golf clap.

“Bravo” the figure says as it walks down the concrete stairway. “Painfully pragmatic – as always.”

“Let me guess” I grin. “You’re that cliché train man I read so much about?”

“You read” the Caucasian figure speaking with a thick French accent responds. “And you saw…”

“Yeah” I nod. “Even your accent is cliché.”

“Like you said” the figure overshadows me as it stands next to me. “Even clichés are a novelty when the veneer of vicariosity is sloughed off.”

I change the subject. “What happens now?”

“Come inside” the figure tells me and points at the building. “There’s much to discuss.”
“What’s that noise?” I ask the entity.

“Halloween celebrations, of course” it replies. “You’re going to enjoy this, I am sure.”

***

Surrounded by strangeness I have never experienced, I watch the entity as it arranges my presentation. After a few rounds of staring at skeletal Jesus Christ, I finally get my chance.
“The dais” the entity tells me. “From there, everyone’s going to see and hear you.”
I nod vigorously and proceed to meet my destiny.

***

“Hello everyone” I look at the idiosyncratic audience in front of me. “I would like to tell you about relussion. As you know, our understanding of existence consists of a constant interplay between what we perceive as real and what we perceive as illusory. Whether we like it or not, the quantum understanding of existence is always binary in nature.

“There is no such thing as reality, just as there is no such thing as illusion: both are manifestations of existence. When perceiving something as real, we inadvertently have an image of illusion – one cannot exist without the other.

We conjure relussion into existence.

( Here, a 3-D representation of my thoughts begins to float around the Cathedral.)

Relussion consists of micro and macro perceptive scales. Micro is symbolized by the DNA; the macro is symbolized by the universe.

To manipulate the nature of relussion is to manipulate the hypostasis. The hypostasis can be manipulated by creating the contention layer before consciousness can defy/define it.

Once this is achieved, you can control a single consciousness, or an infinity of infinities of consciousnesses.

This is how manipulation is done from infinity of infinities all the way down to local habitat level:

(A 3-D floating representation of my thoughts appears yet again )

1.The Unknown Principle
It is a malleable infinity of infinities. This is us without any relussory aspects attached.
2. The Relussory Causality
We conjure relussion into existence. Also known as biocentrism.
3.The Super Brane – Relussions interweaving
The template created by the consciousness is based on realities that interweave with one another, thus creating a wide array of the (so-called) “anomalous phenomena.”
4. The Brane – One Particular Relussion
No comment necessary.
5. Habitat – The local milieu

In my case, I call it Earth. There is an array of manipulation techniques deriving from the hypostasian principle:

Gender identity, family identity, racial identity, national identity, economic identity, anthropocentric identity.

The above is reinforced by:

Parental conditioning, peer pressure, education system, societal stimuli, Hegelian dialectic, Ponzi economy, natural disasters – all leading to additional self-imposition of oppressive memes.

What is the mindset behind the conditioning?

My belief is the only way to view the world – yours is either wrong/naïve/both.

How to prove the existence of slave-like relussion? By applying the following logic: I do not wish to live my life as expected of me but I have to maintain a set of personas in order to function well; I sublimate on a constant basis; I make sure the Nietzschean principle does not get me. The interaction of others is either a) genuine (their limited response matrix ) or b) it is suppressed ( which proves the slave-like relussion.)

Successful Systemic Integration Leads To:

Stabilization - ( By applying existential holders/sublimation - Cognitive Dissonance Syndrome, hypocrisy identity, DID, social personas, fantasy-prone personality.)

“Please remember - in the context of DID - dissociation and disassociation are totally two different things!”

The “Circumnavigation Principle” – bypassing the rules of society to get what one wants; a short-cut tactic rendered possible due to lateral thinking of an individual.

Unsuccessful Systemic Integration Leads To:

De-stabilization:

Suicide

Homicide

Suicide plus homicide

Permanent mental health facility commitment

Zeitgeist Killer - an individual using zeitgeist issues as a modus operandi.

Two Zeitgeist Bubble-Conducive Syndromes:

The Tantalizement Syndrome.

The chasm between what is theoretically possible and what is readily available. The discrepancy causes dysphoria.

The Planetary Confinement Syndrome.

Where a particular civilization is in trouble and does not possess space technology rendering it possible to leave the planet, a portion of the planet’s population might feel just like prisoners during a riot.

To sum it up, relussion can be best defined as:

THE LIFE + A LIFE

“Well” I grin. “I think that’s enough. We wouldn’t want to experience a collective Sylvia Plath effect now, would we?”

***

Bright light sucks me in. Time to move on.

***

“I’ve a question” a woman crawls out of the woodwork.

“I’m not particularly pleased when someone disturbs my contemplative rounds” I respond, hoping the message is clear.

She ignores my warning and continues, “Will I ever shed this vicarious veneer and experience alternate realities first-hand?”

“Nothing’s been ascertained yet” I tell the figure looming over me. “Again, in case you haven’t noticed – I’m a little busy right now.”

“Wha…”

Enough is enough. I stand up and grin, “I’m meeting a reporter. And a trans-dimensional one at that.”

***

“This is the first time someone produced incontrovertible evidence” a smiling young woman tells me. “Your case is unique.”

“Thank you” I nod in acknowledgement. “I’m perfectly aware of that fact.”

“You don’t want me to mention who you are” she eyes me cautiously. “May I ask why?”

I pause for two seconds to collect my thoughts. “Things such as nationality, age and gender are trivialities at best in light of what we’re about to discuss. As it was in my dimension, people on your Earth are susceptible to memes. Whether it’s deliberate action or not remains to be determined.”

“Still, you could argue…” she continues the train of thought.

“Ah!” I butt in and snap my fingers. “Let me guess. You could utilize all those traits?”

“Well, exactly” she instinctively raises her right hand.

“Don’t get me wrong – gender is one of the most interesting aspects of humanness.
Regardless, i’ve got enough experience to know when to reveal what. Trust me on this.”

“I can’t say your logic surprises me” the woman continues. “I can’t count how many times it’s been suggested I should shake my rump while in a little dress and heels to convey a message far more effectively.”

I burst into laughter. “Exactly! It sounds funny on the one hand but it’s also tragic on the other. This is why I always said truthers are no different from sheeple they so despise. The truthers are just as deluded and just as bigoted – at least the sheeple don’t pretend to be better than everyone around them.”

“Is it fair to say truthers are a chimera?”

“Not at all” I reply. “Let me put it this way. You come into this world alone. You die alone. So it is with searching for answers.”

“You must rely on your own senses?”

“If you want to be successful, then yes” I nod. “If not, you’ll be just like academics who are stuck in their ivory towers. They might know a lot on the surface but it’s mostly vicarious experience, rarely their own.”

“Understandably, not everyone has what it takes to become a full-fledged investigator” the woman rightly infers.

“This should be obvious” I affirm. “We exist in our idiolectic realities and we decide what’s best for us. The point is, society is here to convince us we’re anything but lone electrons journeying through infinity. And yet, that’s exactly what we are.”

“Let me play the devil’s advocate for a second” the woman continues. “There’s a danger of solipsism here, don’t you think?”

“Of course” I affirm. “There’s always danger involved. Still, we must choose: do we live life or do we let some artificial concepts direct the course of our existence?”

The woman nods slightly. “So what’s the best thing to do?”

I lean forward. “To put it bluntly, the best thing you can do is look out for yourself and – if that’s your desire – those nearest and dearest to you. Fuck the rest!”

The journalist’s minor shock momentarily transforms into a fit of laughter.

“You laugh, but that’s the truth” I point my finger at her. “The naked truth!”

“Oh my” she finally catches some breath. “Well said. I’ve a more…complex question for you.”

“I’m all ears” I calmly respond.

***

“Who are you?” she scans my every move.
 
“I’m someone who’s learning how to survive in infinity” I reply with a note of condescension. 
“Interesting phrase” the female acknowledges. “Did you come up with it yourself?”

“Not really” I shake my head. “I think it’s an Aboriginal proverb.”

“Mainstream society here does not hold certain cultures in high regard…” the woman says.
“I’m certain that’s by design” I gesticulate. “You see, these people possess a profound understanding of life which isn’t something the powers that be want to see in the public domain.”

“Absolutely” the woman nods. “You said you travel through infinity. When did it start? Were you always like this, an independent spirit?”

“Pretty much” I continue. “I never really felt I belonged on my version of Earth. I felt my purpose was to explore. I guess I’m a skirtotymic personality.”

“Skirtotymic?” the woman frowns.

“It’s got nothing to do with skirts” I grin. “The term itself comes from Polish osobowość skirtotymiczna. Basically, if you’re a person who feels good in the middle of a – be it literal or metaphorical – maelstrom, then you’re skirtotymic.”

“Ah. Never heard that before. Proactive is probably as close as I can get.”

“Yes, proactive would be a good way of putting it. The word skirtotymic isn’t too popular in English-speaking circles.”

“I get the feeling you like listening to your voice” the woman looks at me. “It doesn’t surprise me as your accent is really nice. I’m drawn to it.”

“Thank you” I nod and smile. “You’re right, I’m probably one of a few people who find their voices…enchanting.”

“That’s a narcissistic remark, right there” the reporter laughs.

“Oh well” I respond. “Sometimes you need a little ego-stroking.”

“Of course” she continues. “I always said ascesis is just what you need to control people. But going back to the main topic, how come you’re here? How did you leave your dimension?”

“It all started with that magical date of 21.12.2012” I roll my eyes.

“Oh” she nods vigorously. “Many people think it’s just a myth, something along the lines of Y2K.”

“Yeah, 2012 is a paradox” I fold my hands together. “And whoever thinks that – would be right.”

“How so?” the woman’s curiosity peaks.

“Well” I prepare for a longer speech. “I assume you’ve heard of David Deutsch and David Kellogg Lewis?”

“The physicist and the philosopher?” the female asks.

“Yeah, that’s who I meant” I respond.

“Yes, I know who they are.”

“Good” I nod. “Then you’re also familiar with many-worlds interpretation?”

“Yeah” she says.

“As you can guess, 2012 is both real and illusory. In my original reality where it all started, I was fortunate enough to use the window of opportunity first recorded by the Atlanteans to leave the Matrix.”

“Isn’t the word Matrix a little…cliché?” she uses the last word cautiously as if trying not to offend me.

“Just because the concept of the Matrix has been hijacked by mediocre mainstream minds doesn’t mean it ceased to be valid” I reply with a tinge of anger in my voice.

“Fair enough” she glances at the ceiling and then quickly eyes me again. “Please continue.”

“Alright” I nod slightly. “Where was I? Oh, right. When it all started, I was twenty seven. I translated movies, you know all the subtitle stuff. Lord of the Rings, among many. Yeah, as you can infer I wasn’t living in the Anglosphere at the time.”

“Must’ve been interesting, seeing your words on the screen…” she says.

“Quite” I smile. “Quite.”

“It seems you still are twenty seven” she continues. “Or you want to be perceived as such.”

“Good guess” I snap my fingers and point at the journalist. “I was twenty seven at the time of the transition.”

“Please provide as many details about the transition as you can” her inquisitive mind scans the depths of my mental being.

“Basically, there was what some called the harvest. The process I dubbed consensual entropy causes the disintegration of consensus reality, with everyone gravitating to the one they’re most in sync with. Nothing new, of course, talk about rupture. However, it seems, many – God have mercy – truthers considered only three options to be viable: you stay where you are and your life aligns, you forget about acquaintances, friends and family members who vanished, then you gravitate towards a panopticon dystopia or…”

“Or…?”

“…or a unicorn-loving utopia…”

The woman – yet again – simply cannot contain the laughter. “What!?”

“I told you…not much of a choice for skirtotymic personalities. They’d probably prefer the dystopia anyway.”

“So…I mean, you transcended the boundaries of the Matrix…how, when?” the torrent of probing questions drills penetrates every layer of my mental veneer.

“I focused on leaving the Matrix mental construct on 21.12.2012 and then, out of the blue, a portal similar in nature to a massive beam of light opened and sucked me in!”

“And this is the footage you showed me, right?” the woman continues. “This is how you took me to Warsaw when the Jews were still the majority?”

“Exactly” I nod vigorously. “By the way, did you like the Great Synagogue and Jewish carps? Personally, I must admit, I’m a carp connoisseur.”

“No words can convey what I saw” she suddenly changes the subject. “To be honest, if you didn’t show me all the evidence…”

“…this conversation would be just a figment of someone’s Kafkaesque imagination” I look her straight in the eye. “I always come prepared. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Still, I don’t understand something here.”

***

“And what would that be?” she asks.

“Why go to all the trouble if you won’t reveal what you learned to the world? Shouldn’t this be of paramount importance to you as the truth seeker?”

She smiles and averts her eyes. “This only further shows you’re not from this existential brane. I’ll show this to the insiders. I can’t just disclose the truth, too many people would be…adversely affected.”

“Sounds like the Illuminati mindset to me” I sigh. “But it’s your world – your rules. You strike me as sincere, so I won’t interfere.”

“Don’t forget you came to me first” she adds. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s my personal prime directive” I respond. “Like you said, I don’t want to get involved…and sometimes it’s the consensus.”

“The consensus?” she asks.

“We’ll get to that” I reply calmly.

“What happened after you stepped through the portal? Where were you when the portal opened?” the reporter continues her barrage of questions, temporarily backgrounding the issue of consensus.

“I was in London. Inside my apartment. Focused on my freedom. I found myself in front of the consensus.”

“The consensus…?”

“Yes” I nod. “They call themselves, the guardians of the consensus. Basically, if you want to enter another reality, there are rules so you don’t just change everything there. Understandably, you could mess the plans of the Illuminati.”

“Wouldn’t you be impelled to act?” the woman inquires with urgency in her voice.

“As you can guess” I continue. “Your perspective changes dramatically once you’re out of a certain box, so to speak. I don’t think I’m out of the Matrix, nor do I think i’ll ever know, but at least thought vortices are gone.”

“Persistent thoughts in your head?”

“Yes” I nod vigorously. “Extreme intelligence plus electromagnetic pollution equals mess. Not to mention all that barrage of subliminal programming the simply love. Once you transcend the consensus, though, you control all your thought processes on a whim.”
“Now I understand why psychiatry became so popular…”

“Yeah” I nod vigorously. “To label everyone who displays the symptoms of independent thinking as dereistic.”

“You said there’s no mass awakening” she looks at her tape recorder. “Was it the same in your reality?”

“Very much so” I nod vigorously. “Awakening is a myth. Don’t listen to all those preachers who scream you’re about to become liberated – they’re often just cryptocratic agents.”
“Cryptocratic agents?”

“Ah!” I snap my fingers. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget this terminology isn’t as obvious to everyone. Cryptocracy means a hidden government. Kind of like pathocracy, which is a government run by psychopahs. Then you’ve got political ponerology – the psychological study of totalitarian regimes.”

“Of course” the woman replies. “Cracy is a suffix and crypto…”

“There you go” I spread my arms. “That’s the secret. Even the most complex words are only complex because we don’t understand the way lexical items are formed.”

“Do you know what happened to your friends, family members, the ones from your original reality?”

“I don’t and it’s of no particular interest to me. When you’re dealing with infinity, your perspective tends to…shift a little. You realize all you can imagine – exists.”

“How do you travel between the universes?”

“ The short version – by thought. How does this operate? Well, that’s not something you’d understand, no offense.”

“None taken” she eyes the tape recorder again as if checking if it has not malfunctioned. “Tell me more about your philosophy.”

***

 “Well” I prepare for longer speech yet again. “There are basic terms you’ve got to understand first: tantalizement syndrome, planetary confinement syndrome, zeitgeist issues, zeitgeist bubble, the powers that be argument, system attachment ratio, double-layer perspective, micro universe, macro universe, the infinity argument, intermediopia, societal types, Karpman drama triangle, relussion, consensual entropy…hmm, I guess that’d be it.”

“Okay…” the young woman puts her hands on the knees. “I’m listening very carefully.”

“Alright” I collect my thoughts. “This philosophy helped me to quantify existence and experience the dimensional shift, so it’s both metaphysical and practical. I always apply the golden mean principle.”

“The…golden mean principle?” she smiles.

“Ah, another term” I snap my fingers. “I’ll get to it in a second. Let’s start with consensual entropy – this is the core reason behind 2012 phenomenon in my reality. What does entropy mean to you?”

“A steady deterioration of a system or society?” the woman both answers and asks.

“Exactly. This is what that particular lexical item denotes. So there’s a consensus – an amalgamation of individuals sharing the same reality. They’ve their own personal – or idiolectic – realities I call micro universes, which means person A to person B is analogous to alternate reality A to alternate reality B. Are you following?”

“Yes” she nods.

“Good” I smile. “Now, to me the fact each of us experiences an idiolectic reality while putting a spin on the macro universe – the consensus – proves there is more to life than just random accident. In fact, it proves to me we exist in infinity because we can imagine it and thought patterns imagining infinity are the same thought patterns creating reality. Moving on…”

The reporter nods vigorously.

“As long as you’re stuck in the consensus it’s of no practical significance to you. But, when you happen upon a window of opportunity, you can utilize this knowledge to create your own vision of perfection – your own idiolectic reality. Perfection doesn’t mean unicorns and nymphs, of course. Well, it can, if your that New Age mentality.”

“Explain the New Age mentality concept, please” she requests.

“Most of the world, as manipulated by the powers that be, revolves around two types of mentality: Hare Krishna and CEO. Hare Krishnas live in their cloud cuckoo land while ceos deal only with the – supposedly – pragmatic. Only material world counts to them, SWOT analyses, marketing mixes, maximizing profits, that kind of thing. That’s what the powers that be want – their worst nightmare is someone who can connect the local – material and pragmatic with global – the esoteric, if you will. Social environment isn’t, of course, conducive towards the golden mean. Now you know why.”

“Gotcha” she grins. “Go on…”

***

“Let me focus on zeitgeist issues now. I’m sure you can name many issues which are contentious in people’s minds. Such as euthanasia, the nature of gender, the draft and so on. If these issues are left unaddressed, they lead to what I call zeitgeist bubbles. The bubble, as you can imagine, bursts eventually. When this baby bursts, though, it is far more powerful than any financial bubbles – in fact, a zeitgeist bubble burst leads to Dark Ages or a total annihilation of a civilization. The system which operates as a manifestation of the bubble is – no surprise here – inherently unstable. This is what I call intermediopia – an intermediary state between two civilizational stages – dystopia and utopia. New world order agenda is a good example of a dystopia, while utopia…well, think type one civilization. People who are of above average intelligence don’t particularly enjoy the plastic nature of intermediopias, and so they search for…alternative attractions. This is where the tantalizement syndrome comes in.”

***

“Do tell” the woman eyes the tape recorder.

“Well, let me give you an example. You know who trolls are, right?”

“Of course” the woman responds calmly. “As long as you’re talking about their digital manifestations.”

I grin. “What you probably didn’t know is that there exist MEGA trolls, as well.”
“Like...über  trolls?” the female inquires.

“Über!” I burst into laughter. “Precisely!”

“Must be one heck of a troll, then” she remarks while fixing her blue skirt.

“That’s the point!” I attempt a gesticulatory cavalcade. “The difference between trolls and their über counterparts is…substantial.”

She stops fixing her skirt and leans forward. Her body language screams, “Well? What are you waiting for? Tell me more!”

“Well, trolls usually are just fooling around and are not too bright. It’s easy to spot them. Mega trolls, on the other hand, create entire worlds and suck people around them into the vortex of perpetual creationism. They do it online and in the real world. They usually do it in such a way you can’t prove they’re lying. Mega trolls are often successful people who simply don’t have enough intellectual stimulation…so they sublimate. And sublimation is conative in nature, of course.”

“How do you understand sublimation?” she asks.

“Sublimation is an essential part of social functioning” I nod as if instinctively trying to support my claim. “Take a CEO of a corporation. He might be a mega troll. He might pretend to be different people on conspiracy forums, invent stories about being turned into a girl, play out all sorts of scenarios. Devise a plethora of personas! You might think it’s funny – but to this particular CEO this isn’t merely about pulling someone’s leg and getting away with it – most of all, they find mega-trolling sexually stimulating – some consider it better than sex! On the internet, possibilities are endless, and who wants to role-play if you can convince someone your story is very much real?”

“You taught English, didn’t you?” the reporter laughs.

“How did you know that?!” I exclaim as I instinctively lean toward the woman.

“The way you speak” she continues. “Who’d you teach?”

“English as a second language” I remove all doubt. “That’s how they called it, anyway. I don’t buy into all that native, non-native division. My linguistic competence transcends rigid thought patterns mainstream education loves. But then again, most teachers are just dumb animals, just like the military. Maybe Kissinger was right, after all.”

“You’re a strong supporter of nativization, then” she affirms.

“That’s right” I nod vigorously. “By the way, your accent is similar to the one found in some parts of East England. This is due to Puritan influence, I’d wager.”

“Possibly” she nods. “Alright, let’s get back on track.”

“Where was I?” I ask the young woman facetiously.

“Sexual stimulation, I mean, sublimation” she quickly corrects her Freudian slip.

“Right. Imagine all the worlds you could be experiencing…but there’s no way you actually can experience them first-hand in this plane of existence. That’s when tantalizement syndrome rolls into your life. The syndromes compels many rich people to be dropped in the middle of some desert and test their survival skills. Others…well, others become mega trolls. This is where Relussion comes in.”

***

“What’s Relussion?” the reporter asks.

“Relussion” I gesticulate. “It's a portmanteau word denoting a blend of reality and illusion. When you operate beyond the consensus, you realize the boundary dividing the two is blurry. I won’t list all the factors why people consider circumstance A to be real and circumstance B to be a figment of their imagination. Fiction ceases to be fiction when it start to affect your life.”

“Yeah” the woman sighs. “It’s like reading a text with that constant reminder in your mind, it’s just fiction!”

“Well said, girl” I express my appreciation. “Well said.”

“Thank  you” she blushes.

“By the way” I raise my left index finger. “The mechanism you mentioned is nothing new. Basically, it revolves around the concept of who says what to whom, plus in what channel and with what effect.”

“Similar to the Five Ws of journalism” she adds.

“Yes” I nod and do not hesitate to add. “And one H.”

“Correct” she affirms. “Are mega trolls dangerous?”

“No, mega trolls are harmless. They’re not pedophiles and other creepish creatures. They’re highly intelligent individuals creating their own worlds by utilizing modern technology and sucking others into their worlds. They are fantasy prone personalities.”

“Did you visit a reality where trolling was part of someone’s job description?”

“Oh yes, I’ve visited a dimension where trolling is actually a perfectly normal, if not mundane, job description. There were trolling contests and mega trolls equaled celebrity status. Not easy to become a mega troll, mind you. Without high intelligence and broad general knowledge you’ll never advance beyond average trolldom. Ah, and mega trolls love twitter. The thought of influencing so many minds at once anonymously…nectar.”

“Right” the woman nods, obviously focused on a different matter. “Tell me about the planetary confinement syndrome.”

“Well” I spread my arms. “When your understanding of the universe is advanced enough, you know your planet is just a piece of dust embedded in the tapestry of life. So, if your civilization is about to be destroyed, be it due to zeitgeist bubble burst or some natural disaster, you’ll probably wanna leave the planet as fast as possible. Unfortunately, and here the tantalizement syndrome comes in again, mainstream technology just doesn’t allow you to just leave.”

“Ah!” the woman smiles. “I get it! So you’re stuck, knowing you’re doomed and there’s nothing you can do?”

“Exactly!” I raise my right index finger. “It’s like a global version of Saint Vitus - better known as chorea. Add economic turmoil to that and, well, not a pretty picture.”

“Did you witness the demise of any civilization?” the reporter inquires.

“Many catastrophic scenarios” I nod vigorously. “In fact, there are many civilizations out there, totally destroyed because of the zeitgeist bubble burst.”

“Is this mayhem engineered?”

“You can never underestimate the power of this entity our pop culture has fancifully dubbed the Matrix” I look at the woman. “So yeah, engineered is always a possibility.”

“It seems you’d be able to survive if you’re a member of the underground society, though” the female continues.

“Subterranean bunkers were always with us” I laugh.

***

 “Now I’d like to focus on your depiction of societal structures” she skims through the pages filled with my philosophy.

I collect my thoughts - yet again - and begin. “You basically have two societal models I differentiate between: U(1) – F (2) – M (3)  and  M(1) – F (2) – U (3).”

“Please elaborate” she points her index fingers at me. I do not know whether it’s deliberate or Pavlovian. 

“Right. The first structure is a typical crypto and pathocracy. A hidden government, where mainstream society, let’s call them nine-to-five workers, serve the parasitic underground society. The workers don’t know about this, of course. To establish a successful cryptocracy you’d have to start societies from scratch.”

“How about the second model?” the reporter’s eyes penetrate my being.

“The second model is what you might call an open society. No major lies, no major secrets. This is supposed to be the type of society we’re living in.”

“Nobody wants to talk about little gems such as gang-stalking, of course…” the woman adds.
“Heuristics is not a concept people are even beginning to grasp” I tell the journalist. “That’s why gang-stalkers and other psychopaths love cryptocracies. People can be broken down into archetypes, and, what’s worse – this compartmentalization works!”

“So how does a life and THE LIFE fit into this cryptocratic mess?” the lady asks.
“Well, a life connects with micro universes, whereas THE LIFE is that energetic mold manifesting itself as an infinite mosaic of experiences.”

“Like an observer effect” she affirms.

“Precisely” I acknowledge. “The question of forming the observer - that’s another matter.”
“Manipulating the perception of ourselves - the foundation of the conspiracy?” I hear a question.

“Yes”  I nod vigorously. “We manifest realities someone else wants us to. It’s like with money; money is energy and if you can direct the flow of energy, then you’re rich. People casually dismiss all of it, of course, to them it’s just nonsense.”

“Maybe the powers that be are right…” the woman sighs.

“That most people are dumb sheep incapable of single original thought?” I look at my interlocutor. “Absolutely! After all, the people are the ones who allow it to happen, not some powerful entity residing in another dimension.”

“So when people say I hate my life they actually mean they hate a life, not THE LIFE” the journalist infers.

“That’s a good point” I point my index finger at her. “It only proves, yet further, how manipulated we’ve become.”

“I also wanted to touch upon the subject of family” the woman changes the topic. “You’ve come to some interesting conclusions in that department.”

“Yeah” I acknowledge. “I’ve been a normal human being – so to speak – for twenty seven years of my life, bound by the same consensual laws as everyone else. But this splinter in my mind, this ‘something is wrong here but I don’t know what’ , that dysphoria was always with me. I was born into a relatively rich family. Pretty much what you’d call middle class, or even upper middle-class. As you know, the middle-class is very much CEO mentality-oriented. Their material wealth is…quite substantial, but they don’t really attempt to think for themselves.  That’s my story, Alice, the story where the biggest psychological fascists I’d ever known were the ones closest to me. There’s more to life than superficial conversations and memetic pleasures. Shallow intellectual understanding of the world, just like a veneer meant to impress others. I wasn’t content. I wanted more. There was more to life than superficial genetic connections. For a long time, I didn’t take the idea of organic portals seriously. It all changed after years of scrutiny. Sad, but true.”

“So, basically, children are an investment” the reporter concludes.

“Exactly!” I snap my fingers and point at the journalist. “When a child is born, many parents already have great plans. The problem starts when those plans go awry. The child is then told ‘we’ve invested so much in you and look – nothing in return!’ It’s grotesque, even our offspring became a bloody business investment! No wonder people are experiencing tantalizement and planetary confinement syndromes en masse.”

“Children become indebted to their parents” the woman concludes.

“Yes!” I raise my left hand. “Parents behave like creditors. We paid for your expensive school, we took care of you, so now - when we’re old - you’re gonna have to look after us!”
“This is a vicious cycle for many children” the female adds. “Especially the educational part.”
“’This is one insidious prison” I shake my head. “Whoever designed it – is a genius. Family unit is often just a microcosm of the world out there. Same principles, same aims – different scale.”

“Some say the children and adults are exactly the same, except with adults there’s more at stake.”

I grin. “You nailed it.”

“Moving on, what’s the system attachment ratio?” the insatiable curiosity of that XX member impresses me.

“It’s got to do with my classification of humans according to intellectual capacity” I respond in a matter-of-factly fashion. “You see, the more intelligent you are, the more systemic absurdities you’re going to discern.”

“This would put geniuses at the top of the scale” the interviewer infers.

“Very much so” I nod in acknowledgement. “By the way, we’ve just traveled to my first reality.”

“Your…first reality?” asks the confused woman.

“Don’t worry” I wave my hand. “Welcome to the indigo world.”

“Oh…?” she keeps staring at me. 

“We’re inside my apartment” I smile. “Didn’t you notice the difference?”

The woman scans the immediate surroundings. “Wow, that’s amazing. Didn’t feel a thing!”

“You wouldn’t” I add. “The process is quick and painless. It’s only those Fringe-ish guys, crossing over next to Auschwitz and other emotionally-loaded locations. I keep telling them to stop spooking the locals, but they just don’t give a damn.”

“I noticed this device in the corner there” the journalist points to a window-like contraption next to my sofa. “What does it do?”

“It allows me to study the other side” I smile. “Just like in Fringe – that’s where i’ve gotten the idea from.”

“Tell me more, if you can?” the journalist asks.

“Well” I briefly look at the floor. “Let’s suppose this is reality A. Now, reality B would be your idea of the worst reality of all while reality C would be the best one.”

***

“What the hell just happened?!” the female exclaims. “Where are we!?”

“We’re in front of Auschwitz” I respond as I set up the ‘window’ device. I can do that as there are no people around. “What do you see on the other side?”

“I see a beautiful garden” replies the bewildered woman. “It seems Auschwitz never existed in that reality, so it must be the best version, right?”

“If only it were that simple” I scratch my head. “Look at the sign. What’s it say – loosely translated?”

“Oh my” she covers her mouth in shock.

Here perished five million enemies of the Reich.

“As you can see” I adopt a slightly lecturing attitude. “Things rarely are what they seem to be. Now, watch this.”

I switch to the best reality.

“You see, Auschwitz is here. There’s even the sign. Read it, please.”

Memento Mori: In memory of five thousand POWs, the victims of the 1920 Vistula War.

“Even the best doesn’t mean flawless” I conclude. “Then again, appearances are often deceiving when dealing with infinity. Remember that.”

“I will” she nods vigorously. “But I’ll stick to my original reality for now, thank you very much.”

“Understandable. We think it’s a wild ride, and it is, but when you actually out there – it boggles the mind.”

“You said the world you reside in now is the place filled with indigos, right?” the journalist eyes me.

“Yes” I look around. “There is more to indigos than some random psychiatric disorder. Although, of course, one doesn’t exclude the other.”

“You could write a book about all this” she smiles.

“I’m considering it” I reply as I observe the best reality through the window-contraption. “Though I’m unsure whether this show, don’t tell principle isn’t a little overrated.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way around that” the reporter says.

“Ah!” I exclaim. “Of course! I forgot to mention the circumnavigation principle?”
“Hm?” she utters a muffled sound.

“The system is a set of rules, correct?” I ask her.

“Of course…” she replies. “So?”

“So by devising a way around those rules you can save both your time and effort!” I explain in a fit of exasperation. “You see, the system wants you to believe you need proper channels, but that’s not the case!”

“Don’t they call it criminal?” she laughs.

“Yes” I nod. “But there’s more. Lateral thinking versus linear thinking. I won’t elaborate on it right now, you’re intelligent enough to know what I mean.”

“Everything is malleable” she affirms. “I believe this is the message you wanted to convey.”
“Exactly!” I snap my fingers. “Hey, look – a super cell!”

“What?” the woman is left bewildered. “What are the super cells?”
           
“Super cells are powerful storms, consisting of mesocyclones acting like a self-sustaining mechanism” I explain. “Super cells spawn tornadoes and truly are a wonder to behold.”
“I heard new cloud formations are being discovered at an alarming rate” she adds.

“Very much so” I acknowledge. “You’re in luck – take a look at this.”

“Is that one of those?”

“Yeah. It’s called undulatus asperatus.”

“It…undulates…”

I burst into laughter. “This goes without saying!”

***

“We’re back, I see” she scans my apartment.

“That’s right” I smile. “I’ve a case I’m working on. Two cases, actually.”

“Tell me more” the woman indicates.

“Where are my manners” I remark. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No” the woman shakes her head and smiles. “Thank you.”

“Alright” I point at the wall. “Regarding the cases. Here’s case one – demented serial killer at large.”

“What’s his modus operandi?” I can tell I’ve re-caught the journalist’s attention.

“The killer’s modus operandi is even more deranged than I could’ve imagined” I stand up and approach the wall. “The victims are drained of blood. Exsanguination is this psycho’s M.O. What we’re able to decipher so far is that – according to this individual anyway – blood is what keeps us within the consensus.”

“So he’s experimenting to determine whether exsanguination of his victims equals Matrix transcendence?” she deduces.

“Yes” I face the reporter. “Though I’d refrain from using any specific pronouns at this point.”
“Of course” she concurs. “It’s just privichka vtaraya natura, as they say.”

“So it’d seem” I grin. “Anyway, we’re also traveling to Pennsylvania to test the gates to hell legend.”

“Can I come with you?” the reporter asks.

“Sure” I nod vigorously. “We’re gonna do it later on, though. For now, I think it might be a good idea to wrap things up?”

“Your timing is impeccable” the female states. “I was about to do just that.”

“What a fuck, as one of my students used to say” I laugh.

“Excuse me?” she seems perplexed.

“Oh” I continue. “I corrected one of my students once: it’s not what a fuck, but what the fuck. Articles matter, you see.”

You can hear a pin drop.

“Never mind” I quickly change the topic. “This one didn’t work. Here – take this. Some thoughts about my current reality. Use the thought pattern if you ever want to contact me again.”

“Euthanasia centers are established throughout the world…interesting” the reporter mutters to herself. “And what’s continuous milieual [….+N…3+(3+N)…] x infinity alternator?”

“Possibly the most important equation ever invented” I smile. “And I’m the inventor.”

 “Unified field theory of existence?” she asks in all seriousness.

“Yes” I nod. “And I’m…uniquely qualified to conduct this sort of experiment.”

The female is in stitches. “Of that I’ve no doubt.” She then shakes my hand and slightly bends her knees in a gesture of respect.

“Oh no” I tell her. “You don’t have to curtsy!”

“Oh damn!” she exclaims in a friendly way and looks as if she is about to throw a tantrum. “Stupid cultural habits!”

“It only proves how strong the memetic paradigms that be really are” I conclude. “You never know how deep they really go!”

“Well said” she nods. “Oh, and is this Bonobo in the background?”

“Bonobo Kong, to be exact” I am surprised she noticed the tune. “You’re a keen observer of reality.”

“What kind of reporter would I be if I wasn’t?” she shrugs off the compliment.

“You’d be surprised how many people call themselves journalists, even though they wouldn’t know a good story even if it bit them in the ass!”

We both conclude laughter is indeed contagious. The woman disappears thirty seconds later, leaving me to my own consensual devices.

***

“She’s gone” I smile and eye the computer.

“Battle.net, where art thou…”

It never takes long for something to happen on campus but this time fate has set a record.
“FBI!” I hear the call. “Open up please!”

This does not surprise me. The FBI has been on my tail for a while now. Not many inter-dimensional travel experts around, you see. To use the classic Orwellian newspeak, I am a valuable asset. It is a great feeling when people come to you because you are needed. But since I never suffered from the anonymity syndrome - sometimes it just pissed me off.
“Coming” I reply as I approach the door.

“There’s been a development” the agent tells me. “Please come with us.”
Whenever I hear the word “development”…

***

“Why do you need me?” I ask the agent. “Can’t you just storm the place?”

“We don’t want to risk it” he replies. “Besides, we hope your inter-dimensional expertise is enough to contain the situation.”

“From what I read about this psycho, as you call him” I continue. “He just wants to leave this plane of existence.”

“Why not use our euthanasia centers for that?” the agent asks. “Nobody’s forced to stay here.”
“Sometimes sheer logic isn’t enough to comprehend a mind” I respond. “Sometimes, you need a touch of insanity, a touch of laterality.”

“That’s where you come in” I am told.  “As much as we hate to admit it, this is way out of our league.”

“I think i’ve got a working profile” I explain to the agent. “I’m gonna talk to him. Alone.”

“If you think that’s the best strategy” the man tells me. “Just get my men out of there.”

“Why can’t you just use your branial magic?” another fed asks me.

“At the risk of sounding arrogant” I grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

The dark suits just nod in acknowledgement. This kind of surprises me, as you can imagine. Never mind, they are probably focused on the task at hand rather than quibbling their time away.

“So, what do you think?” I hear a question. “What’s wrong with this guy?”

“I think he’s suffering from an acute form of planetary confinement syndrome” I reply.

Body language of my interlocutors seems to indicate they need a further explanation.

“Well, let’s say there’s a global financial crisis. People riot, right? Then add some meme, like 2012. It only compounds the problem. On a planet where no technology to freely travel to the stars is available, people are going to flip out.”

“So riots are an example of this syndrome?”

“Not exactly” I shake my head. “People suffering from the syndrome are usually solitary individuals, so by seeing the riots it only reinforces their belief. In your reality you’ve got euthanasia centers which makes it easier for people to evacuate and the incidence of PCS is way lower than in my…endemic reality. But then again, desperate people are everywhere. It’s only a matter of understanding the nature of their desperation.”

***

I see a giant centrifuge in front of me. Twelve people are placed in each tube, with the vat attached to the axis waiting to mix the blood together. The elderly, the children, all of them – this truly is an egalitarian procedure. 

“I think I understand what you’re trying to do…” I mutter. “You want to access the state beyond thought vortices, don’t you…”

“That’s right” a powerful response fills the room. “The Nazis believed in the VRIL. The Anunnaki used monoatomic gold. I will test the exsanguinatory Nirvana.”

“Look” I spread my arms. “I didn’t come here to negotiate. There’s a way around that without killing all these people.”

“Death is irrelevant” the voice replies. “They’ll soon understand.”

“Even so” I explain. “You’re devastating their lives. Let the pawns play with pawns.”

Laughter permeates the area. “Little minds – puppets on a string of genius!”

“That’s right!” I exclaim and snap my fingers. “If you come with me to the ISS, I’ll give you what you want!”

“You’ll take me there” the voice continues. “You’ll take me there now or they all die.”

***

“This is the International Space Station” I point at Earth. “I assume electromagnetic pollution is gone?”
           
“Yes” the man nods. “That’s amazing. I can breathe, all of it, no protection…”

“Cathartic process is going to start now” I explain the procedure. “Once it’s done, you’ll no longer be bound by thought vortices and that indescribable feeling of inner resolve will always be with you.”

“This is how they manipulate us, isn’t it” he looks at me. “They attack us with disinformation on all possible levels, they poison our mind-consciousness link…”

“Yes” I nod vigorously. “That’s exactly what they’re doing. They know how easy it’d be to escape if the link was unobstructed.”

“Milieu therapy…” the man looks down. “That’s all it takes...here, I want you to have this.”

Before I can utter a single word, the individual disappears.

***

The envelope. MEANING OF LIFE written on it. My curiosity knows no bounds: will I discover something dereistic? Travestical? Grotesque? Pastische-ish? Phantasmagoric? Kafkaesque?

“They are the embodiment of God ruling this existence by making you complacent and docile. Oh, naive writer; you will never be able to tell.”

“Hmm” I mutter to myself. “If you’re referring to academic arguments, I couldn’t agree more.”

***

“Ah!” I stop the automobile. “A shopping mall. Just what I need.”

I get out of the vehicle and move toward the entrance.

“Is there a nice restaurant around?” I mutter to myself.

Of course there is; and not too far away from the entrance at that. As I find myself within the ‘waiter-detection’ zone, I am approached by one.

“Non-smoking area, please” I specify my preferences. “Oh, and something isolated.”
The waiter nods and takes me on a little tour. We walk around and he keeps pointing at different tables.

“This one” I notice a table in the corner illuminated by a vertical shaft of light. “That’s just what I need – thank you.”

“Is there anything I can offer you?” I hear a question.

“As a matter of fact” I look at the waiter. “There is. I’ll tell you what I want on the spot.”

The waiter listens carefully.

“I’ll have three garlic breads and a sweet late” I explain and snap my fingers. “Oh, and perhaps a pizza…yes, I’ll have a margarita.”

The waiter nods and walks away.

I look around at all the people. I cannot help but immerse myself in thought.

“This is incredible” a thought bolts through my mind. “Not so long ago, I didn’t know where I was going, what was happening…all because I was imprisoned inside a bubble which made it impossible for me to experience the full magnitude of life…you cannot do this because of market forces, pay the bills, what about that, blah, blah, blah.”

I suddenly burst into laughter – with people around me trying to determine what is so funny.
“If only you knew” I continue my train of thought. “If only…”

I’ve been working on an interesting device. It allows me to see everyone’s perfect reality. I never tested it before, but now would be the time to do it. I focus my thought-energy on the contraption in order to activate it. Not a sound…but I know it’s functioning.

I snap out of the contemplative phase when the waiter brings my sweet latte and the pizza. I look at him and notice something...how to put this…interesting.

“Upskirt-on-demand” a sequence of words appears above his head. Then, I see a group of sexy tall blondes who have to stop every time someone presses a button and – you guessed it – bend over. This is the law, apparently. I can barely contain the laughter, and decide to turn the device off – I’ll try it again after finishing the meal.

***

Epilogue: Conversations with the Quantum Child

I never finish the meal. Instead, a shimmering portal opens and pulls me in. Not that I am surprised, really: things like that tend to happen. I look around, calmly, and decide what to do.
“Hmm...”

“Welcome to Waterdeep!” a spherical energetic being sits ( in a matter of speaking ) next to me.  “I’m your quantum child.”

“Is this possible?” I utter a muffled sound. “Are you capable of distorting the truth?”

“Oh, darling” the being sends another thought my way. “I’m capable of anything! I’m the essence of all your thoughts, all your analyses, I can be whatever you want me to be. I am Relussion.”

“We constantly create new worlds” I nod vigorously. “Did you bring me here?”

“Yes” the entity responds telepathically.       

“Blood is thicker than water…” I begin.

“…and consciousness is thicker than blood” the entity concludes.

“The world revolves around the Ten Commandments” I add in a sudden epiphany. 

“Let me present you with an updated version, then” my child grins.

***

1. Worship the system. Do what the system demands. This is your God.
2. Be humbled by authority for they are God’s physical manifestation.
3. You shall show your utmost respect for God by offering God part of your labor with joy in your heart.
4. There is no friendship. There is only business.
5. Have sex with all you deem worthy to make you more efficient at God-worship.
6. Kill as often as you wish if you can prove that this is righteous in the eyes of God.
7. By defending God you defend your right to live as you want to live.
8. Lie becomes the truth if God says so.
9. By following God you are superior as God renders you all-powerful. You must prove to others that there is only one God, only one way. Let this task bring you joy. Life that does not accept the gospel is nothing more but subhuman life unworthy of life.
10. Constantly expand God’s living space. By expanding the living space, God is with you and your spirits are lifted by the thought of doing God’s work.

***

“Where’d you take me?” I ask the child.

“Welcome to my world” my quantum progeny replies. “I mean it literally.”

“So” I grin. “I’m the grandparent?”

“Very much so” the entity replies. “How do you like this restaurant?”

“Well” I look around. “It’s certainly a stunning view. I can tell this is my design.”

“Quantum progeny, as I call it” the child goes on. “Quantum progenification is a constant process. Look above you.”

I notice new realities created in the blink of an eye. Exponents floating above the heads of waiters and connoisseurs.

“Awesome” I shake my head in wonder. “This truly is what life is about.”

“A perpetual cycle of change, yes” the quantum child affirms. “Where thought vortices are gone and you’re free to create whatever you like.”

“I always knew it’s that simple” I respond. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, eying this wonderful meal.”

“The consensus is like a game server” the entity infers. “If you break the rules - you’re out.”

“If you mentioned to people they could create anything the want, that reality in an infinite number of ways...”

“You’ve got the thought your desired life into existence camp” the entity continues. “The problem is, you can’t really do it without all the thought vortices and noxious noospheres you’re surrounded by when existing in a consensus. You can influence your reality to an extent, yes, but not to a demiurge-like level.”

“No wonder so many prominent intellects experience a feeling of melancholia” I put my hands together in a towerish gesture. “They’re surrounded by a field of mediocrity.”

“People don’t understand the biggest secret of all” the quantum being scans me. “The secret of thought-fields. The secret of noosphere.”

“They focus on biospheres, on atmospheres...and yet they lack the intellectual fortitude to notice obvious analogies between computer games and reality.”

“Well” the child says. “Some of them grasp it quite well, but something blocks them, they don’t want to pursue the matter.”

“They’re afraid” I acknowledge. “They don’t have enough data to state whether they can move on.”

“Pragmatically speaking” my offspring says. “They can shed their vehicles - which are bound the consensual laws that be. They can wait for reality shifts, such as 2012. Or...they can wait for the natural death of their bodily containers.”

“Still” I continue. “Knowing what we know, the possibility of endless realities based on the principle of perpetual change without the involvement of thought vortices ought to be more than tempting.”

“Classic tantalizement syndrome” I hear a reply. “This is the perfect way to determine who’s a conscious being and who’s just a systemic drone devoid of sentience.”

“The bottom line is this” I affirm. “People with little minds live in their little words. Their needs don’t exceed that of rigid consensual realities - but the noxious noosphere makes it difficult to live for the conscious ones.”

“Unless they’ve been through the process of catharsis where thought vortices no longer exist, merely playing along with the consensus, or being the creators” the child says.

“Eloquently put” I grin. “If you think something is that simple - then it is that simple!”

“Yes” the entity nods. “If you think you can create whatever you want - then you can. You’ve been fooled by some fascist karmic universal dictatorship this isn’t the case.”

“Yeah” I proceed to eat my delicious meal. “Not experiencing thought vortices and knowing means you’re probably a red dress.”

“Thought vortices are a signal your mind is besieged by the noxious noosphere. It will either drive you crazy or liberate you” my child rightly infers.

“Or both” I smile. “Thought vortices and supra-intellectual awareness of knowing prove you’re a conscious entity.”

“Some individuals may argue leaving endemic realities is...”

“I know” I snap my fingers and point at the child. “Solipsism syndrome. Nothing is real, so you’ve no anchor. But these feelings derive from thought vortices.”

“So...?” the offspring asks.

“Well” I spread my arms. “Conscious entity’s thought patterns will no longer be influenced by the omnipresent noxious noosphere, thus eliminating the thought vortices...”

 “...which leads to elimination of solipsism and variations thereof...” the entity nods slightly.

“Which” I raise my left index finger. “ Which allows this being to experience anything it wishes with even greater degree of contentment, making sure the threat of thought-vortices never returns.”

“Anti-entropic reactions are going to grow exponentially as a result of shedding the consensual laws that be” the progeny concludes.

“Very good!” I exclaim. “I couldn’t have said it better!”

“Imagine, all those people, suddenly their realities becoming idiolectic” my child says.

“Consensual entropy manifests” I continue. “A set of unique realities endemic to the mind of each individual. Some might know even know what happened. Never mind the sentience status of their environment due to possible unresolved mental burden.”

“Rupture 2.0.” my child nails it.

“That’s one way to put it, yes” I burst into laughter.

“Not to mention knowing has enormous practical applications” my child adds. “All those dark suits - who’s fooling who?”

“Make no mistake” I gently shake my head. “Whoever says knowing is non-existent is either reluctant to access it or he’s unable to access it because there’s no consciousness compartment involved.”

“Plus” the entity says. “Letting go all your thoughts hurls your conditioned mind into a state of panic - your mind believes life as you know will fall into disarray.”

“...when it’s with the conditioned mind in charge that things actually fall apart” I scan the immediate environment.

“This is the ultimate existential irony” the child says.

“Yeah” I nod vigorously. “The powers that be have a sense of humor. They’re like profoundly deranged individuals creating worlds for themselves. Sexual arousal is an integral part of that design - this is why various deviants tend to be extremely preferential. Their experience is that of vicariosity in its most perverted form.”

“Speaking of which” the progeny says. “I’m sure you know there’s a direct link between accessibility of knowing and intelligence. Psychopaths can be intelligent, but they lack the divine spark. That’s why they’re part of the construct and cannot access the knowing. They’re systemic machines, perfectly suited for the job of meme enforcement.”

I nod in acknowledgement.

“I’d say geniuses are the only ones capable of truly leaving the consensus. Their genius is relative in nature, of course, but the noosphere surrounding them is de facto the consensus, and so their melancholy indicates they are perfect candidates for transcendence! Thus, intelligence is as crucial as intuition if one wants to escape the consensual panopticon dystopia.”

Suddenly, a young blonde girl approaches me.

“You’re one hell of a writer” she says.

To say the least, I am a little taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the creator of Relussion, right?” she inquires.

“As a matter of fact, I am” I nod. “Why do you ask?”

“What an amazing plane!” she smiles. “What’s the secret of secrets? Tell me, tell me, pretty please?”

I lean towards her and whisper, “Thought patterns of a billionaire versus thought patterns of a wannabe billionaire? Once you understand the difference, you’ll uncover the ultimate secret.”
She disappears into the blue.

“Who the he...”

“Relussion jumpers” the entity smiles. “They do it a lot.”

I nod slightly. “Should’ve thought of that.”

“Did I tell you I went on a date?”

“No” I shake my head. “You didn’t.”

“Well” the quantum child says. “I came up with this poem for some reason.”

“Hmm?”

“Take a look” my quantum progeny says. “Tell me what you think.”

Here I am
Immersed In Materialistic Vanity
Which Has Taken Away
My Existential Perspicacity 
Despair Not, However!
For I Shall Regain My
Mental Profundity -
Thanks To Serendipity!

“Well” I touch my hair. “Quite...deep, yes - that’s the word.”

“It was supposed to be a pick-up artist’s trick...”

“Were you successful?” I grin.

“Not really” the entity mutters.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me...” I grin.

***

“Look!” my child points at a scene in front of us.

“This is bizarre” I scratch my head. “Even for my standards.”