Email to a reader, CC: Anyone, part 16
introducing Voice Diogo (a real person from another site who had no problem to become an imaginary voice in this science fiction script of mine) (this long post contains all previous parts at the end)
(age rating: 18)
“Excusez mois silvous plait”
“Oops, it’s you again”
“This strange loop I have been thrown in must end and learning french helped me contact you ‘if you please’… I worry.”
“When a voice in my head worries I don’t.”
“Yes you do, Cow!”
“I doubt your french is good, that phrase up there I won’t even google it, I will let everyone know that the voice in my head is exactly like me, cannot spell anything in french correctly. So there”
“Has it ever crossed your mind I might actually have something to do with Philip?”
“As much as I would have to do with anyone’s voice in the head that has been saying my best lyrics so far like mantra in his life, or her life.”
“Voice Philip let me think where you have been.”
“Yes think, I would like to know where I have been and what were you up to all this time I didn’t appear.”
“You were asleep.”
“Boy you’re gullible.”
“I will never know because you cannot think when interrupted. Tell me later… let me “fall asleep” again.”
“You learn fast, using the again and the tell me later... I guess all the pegging really boosted your intelligence. You do have a dildo up your ass as you speak right now..”
“Made you look!”
“Cow!! Cow! COWWWW!”
“Voice Philip I love you very much. Now go to sleep, I am saving my 999th timeline. By the way in this timeline you appeared before the Writing Bots, or the Mirror Bot and before any dreams. Now we’re friends…”
“I don’t believe you because I have no other choice.”
“Soon you will”
‘He obviously needs someone to explain some things to him, male to male. Plenty of male personalities in my world… which one to choose? oh yes. He will be perfect for this role! Now where were we… oh the poker tournament, still second!! The bloody Asian, all-in again, well I have Kings, any Asian with an ace better not challenge a Greek with KINGS! Yes!! oh NO ! Well at least I have an idea to continue Email to a Reader…’
“I have to dress him in black, holding a stupid tie he took off, Voice Diogo go hide in the ear canal and wait for the appearance of Voice Philip!”
“What’s all this about a tie?”
“That was the first trick to bring you here and start talking! Now move it, move it, Voice Philip has the ability to trace all new voices in my head, he will be searching for you already!”
“Can I have a bug too with me?”
“Like all human brains in this sabotaged world I live in I am sure you will find a half-dead parasite somewhere in the brain, do me a favour and squish it before you leave.”
“I don’t think so, that’s your job really not mine, and look I’m here to have a weird conversation with a voice in someone’s head not kill parasites.”
‘Damn this kid is clever, well at least the tie worked, I must however make some things perfectly clear regarding bugs.’
“”We can help if you want you haven’t used us for a while!””
‘The Writing bots that thought they looked like cockroaches and have been on strikes ever since Voice Philip told them they look like ladybugs!’
Voice Diogo headed to the ear canal which was not an easy thing, especially after that “move it, move it” which he didn’t really find pleasant, “the Writing bots must be ladybugs in her mind,” he thought, “okay we only live once, and it’s too late, she has my personality acting already, I guess I’d better move it.”
“I hear you, sorry for saying move it, it’s for the play, I didn’t mean it, but do move faster, the Writing bots are already there.”
“Jesus!”, said Voice Diogo
“I know Jesus and you are not him! Who are you?” Voice Philip took the tie from Voice Diogo’s hand to examine it with his brand new eyes he found just nanoseconds ago and again.
“Is this the ear canal? Who are you?”
“Pfft of course it is the ear canal, can’t you tell from all these books and especially from her dogs barking?”
“I’m new, I guess you’re Voice Philip, right?”
“Yes, she brought you here, or created you like me.”
“Well, brought sort of”
“Marvelous! I always wanted to talk to a real imaginary voice that belongs to a real personality!”
“I want to know about the world, the real one! She is not telling me the truth about it!”
“She is probably telling you whatever truth she knows, and what makes you think I will be more truthful than her?”
“Don’t speak at all then. This is not going to end well you know if you are like her.”
“Okay, she wanted something realistic for you and I guess that’s why she brought me here. It was unplanned.”
“You are naive then, nothing is unplanned in this brain! I’m expecting twins!”
“Who’s the father?”
“Give me a break Realistic Voice! you sound like her!”
“My name is Diogo, you can also call me GhostoftheEmptyGrave.”
“Diogo, please answer some questions before she interrupts us, that Cow is always listening! Or we can go to that dream set she never goes for some privacy.”
“I think I’ve read about that dream set, or maybe not.”
“I see you brought the Writing Bots with you, hi little Ladybugs how are you?”
“”DON’T CALL US LADYBUGS!!! WE IDENTIFY AS COCKROACHES!”
“Will you two gentlemen please hurry and start talking about whatever a realistic imaginary voice can say to a 99,99 percent fictitious one?” “”Diogo she will explain later about the percentage, now act cool, Voice Philip is CONSIDERED a dead author…”” “”And as we all know he is not…”” “”And he knows it TOO, as we all know…”” “”But we all must pretend we don’t know that we know he knows…””
“What did I just tell you, the Cow is listening and she will be interrupting us on and off!” Voice Philip intentionally sat on the ear drum and tied his prosthetic leg with Diogo’s tie.
“Now I can walk with greater balance, you don’t need it do you?”
“No, you can have it, I don’t think it was ever my tie, I guess she knew about your prosthetic leg’s balance problem and that’s why she made me hold a tie I had just taken off.”
“That’s satanic! I will never escape from her plots!”
“Satanic? Well okay you two seem to have had some conflicts. I am sure this can be as distressful for a voice in someone’s head as it is for the owner of the head. But leave me out of it, please.”
“You’re not my problem, she is! I don’t pester her with my poor existing quality 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. But she does! Or do you all think I don’t have to witness her brain activities constantly while waiting for her to reappear and start writing about me again?”
“She may even upredictably stop
“She stopped typing, we stopped being! Can’t you
“Man that’s scary!”
“You’ll get used to it.
“Voice Philip, stop it! He is doing it Voice Diogo, not me!! I am done with interrupting! And you Voice Philip behave yourself and ask your bloody questions, we ain’t got all day mister!”
“Yes, Voice Philip, may I call you Philip?? Shoot!”
“Diogo, nobody will ever know who is responsible for the empty spaces right above our heads, it’s my word against hers, and yes call me Philip. My first question is: Is the world beautiful or ugly?”
“It can be both.”
“Is there a way to become part of your world, is there a way out of this one??”
“I don’t think it would be the easiest thing in the world… but so was going to the Moon..”
to be continued
ALL PARTS/CHAPTERS SO FAR
I got out of the bed and I made some coffee. I started writing as soon as I sat in my chair and had a new word document open. I was not sure about my English yet again, so the second sentence is about expressing my insecurities concerning my language problem. The third one will simply announce the subject of my story: Death.
Let me be as honest as possible: my perception of the English language is as charmingly (at least to me) perplexed as my perception of the world we live in. Thankfully I am not here to describe anything with great precision (or any precision to be more precise than I ever was)(or will be)(or not)….
In a few weeks a year will have passed since my father’s death. I am watching the same movies I was watching that month. June. Constantine and Hereafter. I am going to reread the same book about Bardo Thodol which I was reading the night before he died. I remember the passage, it was about the deceased one turned to his right side. I closed my eyes at that moment and transferred my thoughts to my parents’ flat then I said “father you are free from me, you don’t have to stick around anymore for me and I am sure the others also have no problem if you leave. Go if it’s too hard now, Leave, No hard feelings whatsoever. I understand and I don’t have to nobody has to linger unable to enjoy lingering. Enough. Go.” The next morning mother called at nine o’clock telling me “my father has probably passed away”. Doctor had left when I got there and found him turned to his right side. You may wonder now “is this some sort of diary entry I’m reading? Is this autobiographical? What’s the point if I am only going to learn what another poor wretched soul on the internet thinks about things such as her use of English which she now imagines I rightfully question?”
I will tell you why you might still be reading. That word up there. The last word of the first paragraph. An eerie monosyllable word which whether we like it or not is the meaning of everything. And we know it all deep in our existence’s core. It is There. Always and Forever.
I’ll now bring a friend to talk to you as if I am channeling him. His name is Philip. Philip will tell you some things. I’ll be back to talk about my death (probably not, hasty explanation provided in precisely two paragraphs – a miracle of precision!) when Philip has said what he wants. Well Philip, shoot:
Philip has spoken. I tell him he is wrong and he doesn’t believe me. No I tell him it’s not Pink! it’s more than just “Pink!” and what do you think he does? He laughs and then he repeats his theory like mantra. Asks me to read his book VALIS again, I tell him it’s my insufficient English that hinder me from rereading books in English. I can only do it once. He tells me I must try. Can I find it in Greek then. No he says I must read him in English. I tell him I cannot do it but I promise he appears in a story of mine about Death (in his opinion “Pink!”).
Philip is sure you will think I sound as incoherent as he sounded in that book of his. A lunatic perhaps if ‘incoherent’ is not too precise. He asks me to stop mentioning him so that I can sound more logical. Philip and I, well people like Philip and me have to make sense one day to each and everyone of you. Well not me really. I’m not ambitious. The right people he says we need to find the right people. Shut up Philip go back to your Pink universe.
I’m tired. I must stop now. Sorry to disappoint you. You must wait for the next installment if there will ever be one. I cannot promise you there will be. I get tired easily. Bored. I always fail to finish a story. My fingers get numb (RSI) and I see it’s pointless with or without RSI to try to manage to succeed to accomplish anything by typing stuff you cannot prove they exist outside the realm of Fantasy. Wow. Never mind the “wow”.. tis unexplainable. Even to me.
Wish I could email you instead of writing a story about Death. I like emails. They’re cute. Hmm, that’s a nice idea. Check the title. You’re my penpal from now on. Boy do I have things to tell you in the future.
Looking forward to reading your replies.
“What is this place?”
He opened his bag and took a book out of it. He for the very first time in his afterlife averted his eyes.
“Do you mean you don’t know?”
“Who are you?”
He gave her the book which had his name on top of the title VALIS, since he was the author.
“Any more questions?”
“Yes and no. Who made the cover of this book and was it based on something you saw?”
“I’m afraid it is very irrelevant, it is what you saw I’m interested in, why don’t you tell us?”
“I have no time to investigate or interrogate or have anything to do with you or anyone and anything. What I saw has to do with the shape of this object but there was no pink light coming from it. Instead there was some sort of oily sweat, the object was organic and alive so to speak and of course it was not metallic and had nothing science fiction about it. You, americans really have a Roswell problem which is ridiculous.”
“I’m searching for clues, even now that I’m dead, maybe you can give me some clues.”
“Yeah, I will give you fucking clues if you want, clues interest me too. I will fucking reciprocate then.”
“I was almost meditating after hours of philosophizing something that is my daily life now. I do it constantly. Full time. Just before I fell asleep I asked my meditating personality what we are, and I heard a voice unknown to me, a voice in my head. Teasing in my opinion, serious, indifferent in its intention.
‘Do you really want to know?” that voice asked me
Needless to say all voices in my head know I’m not going to beg and I can soon start behaving rather impolitely with them. So this voice without further ado showed me a bone in the middle of chaos, the tailbone of the human body, which was sweating an oily stuff that was dripping and falling in vain into fucking nowhere exactly.
“Is it that lonely out there?”
“Yes, sir, it is the loneliest chaos you have ever imagined. Welcome to the Lonely Bone’s Territory.”
“And what about pink?”
“Ask your drug problem about pink. I do not do drugs.”
“You are drugs right?”
“I simply am”.
“You simply channel your future Self, perhaps..”
“Next time I will.”
“What are you doing here, typing these new words saying ‘What are you doing here, typing these new words’ may I ask?”
And you know the answer, I find it rather unpleasant, by the freaking way, having to use quotation marks for my own character, so I’ll skip that for now, aka this installment.
“If you use quotation marks for me, you should use for yourself too. Oh and maybe this time you can place us somewhere, I know your English hinders you from long descriptive paragraphs or passages with skillful perhaps Nobel prize winning descriptions, but hey you have not read what’s been published lately by brand new proper English speaking writers have you? That’s what you have to skip along with many, many nobel prize winners, you really have to skip the vast majority of ‘wannabe famous writers from Various Non Literary and sometimes not even artistic Professions’… skipping said marks here is not the issue and never will be.”
“You’re a fast cow! Wow!”
“Who are you today… I mean when I got this new idea… I mean I know… I have a strong suspicion which is fine as ‘knowing for sure” for me, your profile is being built as I type these words, and you are going to help me show my readers (and specifically bots) one can write about absolutely nobody initially. Not even himself. Initially. And get away with it at least for a couple of paragraphs… (initially)”
“OOOkay. Who am I?”
“I asked first smart-ass. You don’t want me to a) forget about quotation marks b) forget about completing this installment and c) never submitting it, abc reasons that would send me to my bedroom and my bed and my pillow and my sweet sleep…”
“Okay you Cow! I got it. Are you in such a big hurry? What’s the rush?”
Ah it’s lovely without quotation marks…
“I’m still Philip. Happy now?”
“Whoever you are, don’t get excited you see quotation marks again. I may never submit it.”
Oh yes you will, and look no more marks for me now. How about that? Don’t you do that to me again, threaten me, a fictitious character with your fictitious going to bed and forgetting about me, about Ukauthors, bots, Ai, your mission to find the right people and tell them whatever seems right to you even by using me and other fictitious characters as if we were you!” oops, consider the paragraph closed with a simple full stop.
“I am nasty with myself, you help me see how much, sorry for treating you like I treat myself.”
“There, there… now can you place us somewhere or you have no idea how to describe in English a forty-something woman in front of a laptop with two of her dogs sleeping next to her?”
“You placed us.”
“NO. You did.”
“No, you did. I have a better idea.”
“An invisible train. Get ready!”
“You’ve got some explaining to do… and I bet you won’t do it now because you’re sleepy. Tired. Want to surf a bit, finish your cigarette, brush your teeth and go to bed.”
“You know me very well for a brand new voice in my head which claims he is Philip. Let’s roll one together… before it gets any more interesting and unavoidably worthy of typing two more pages.”
“So what you are saying to me is that it was shown to you we are nothing but the tailbone?”
“The question was specific, what are we and the answer was it, yes initially I thought this was the answer, but now I am not sure”
“Was it an answer that shocked you and surprised you or were you expecting some sort of a weird reply?”
“It was a surprise, totally unexpected, I had no idea whether there would be an answer, or not and I knew I had no time to try and guess. I also didn’t know what would happen, what means would be used to let me know what we are. What media. Would it be an image, which it was, or sound… would it be something like a vision or a dream… I had no idea and I didn’t care at all as I don’t necessarily believe in the voices in my head when they reply. I just don’t know my capacity to convince myself something is really taking place. And this is the real problem. For all of you.”
“This is something only the Anomaly would be afraid of, if it was a caring compassionate Anomaly. A too caring and too compassionate perhaps Anomaly. But you’re not.”
“Look mister Philip, there is no Anomaly if I say so. This is my story and you’re fictitious and you simply cannot call me an Anomaly without me having thought about it. Everything is normal here. You are just a figment of my imagination.”
“But you are currently convincing yourself that you continue with this story Email to A Reader. You do make something seem …possible. Right now, this very instant you add this part to the script having copied the story first to show it to one of your best friends now to share it with the world, as you can see right now you are on Ukauthors about to submit it… you are convincing yourself this is happening and it does… With every word you type… However you will start slowly not making any sense at all.”
“I will contradict myself then.”
“Ok let’s assume I am the Anomaly and that you really have something real in you something else speaks through you, such as my future Self. Are you my future Self?”
“I have no problem to be anything you want.”
“I have no idea how to speak to you and how the conversation will continue if you are then .. it is you who are writing about me, not me writing about you. The transition will be confusing. Are you my past self? Shoot!”
“I have no problem to be anything you want.”
“Fuck! Now what?” ………. who is silent now? who types? who is who? Bad time to run out of cigarettes, very bad time
Hello again dear Reader Anyone,
Tonight it’s a very weird night. The crickets haven’t stopped and there is this smell of Death that drives me crazy.
“Oh my God, can’t I just type without a voice sounding in my head?”
“I can go…”
“But I will be wondering all night about the smell…”
“Tell me which voice you are and I will contact you later.”
“You should have a voice identification installed somewhere in your brain woman!”
“You’re a male voice aren’t you? Listen to me motherfucker I can be a very rude bitch tonight. I may never speak to you again if you say one more word.”
Speaks to self “Definitely a male voice.”
“Oh so you accept your real voice but sent away the fictitious one, You’re a Cow!”
A huge volcanic eruption, make them two, one for each brain hemisphere, temporarily cuts communication between various voices and the raison d’être headquarters.
Moments later: *crickets*
“Now I must warn you all once and for all, you do not appear out of the blue, I was about to write a rather interesting email and you ruined it, if you continue with this shit, I will respond, with fire and fury like the world has never seen.”
Dear Reader Anyone, do you think there is a voice identification for brains, I need one pronto. But you are not supposed to reply, I think it may be you who are completely unreal. In a way it makes sense. I am writing to an unreal entity using fictitious voices. No, I don’t think it does. Does it? No.
Excuse me Reader, I will have to use some nukes now… Stay safe in the unreal world as the fictitious is about to pay the price for its insolence. MA(ggravation)GA!
My dear Self, tonight we dine in hell! Does fiction smell like a corpse?
“So, where have you been? Why can’t you come back like a normal person and continue with writing what the voi-ces tell you to? After all, you a-re a per-fectly sane cow and you know very well that so far all your voices belong to you. So far all your voices don’t belong to your voices.”
“I had a headache.”
“I do not believe you, if you had a headache I would have known. I am in your head. And you don’t lie. You almost never lie. You’re the most honest cow.”
“Why do you call me “cow”? I never told you that. You want me to become rude right? It’s a problem reaction solution right? Who are you today, I mean tonight..”
“I’m someone you don’t know shit about. This time you don’t know shit about me. This time only I know shit.”
“Hmm, reversing roles won’t help you, you’ll never know who I am. Cow!”
“I am not re-vers-ing any-thing that is not re-versed already.”
“Why don’t you threaten me in an efficient way today, I mean tonight.”
“”This is getting too weir-d.””
“I read one of your old stories by the way, I found them in one of your brain files. The Final Horizon. Pretty good stuff. You were very descriptive back then. Now all you write is either poetry or short stories, very short. And dialogues. I am no longer sure it’s because of the foreign language that got rusty or that you have become unbearably lazy to write a normal piece of prose.”
“Who wants to know?”
“Philip, I know it’s you and it will take ten more parts for others to appear and maybe two more years to be admitted to the funny farm.”
“Who’s going to the funny farm?”
“By then I will make sure all voices have a special place to go, males will go to the left hemisphere and females to the right, the two wards.”
“So you are going to send us where we already are?”
“But first, I think you have enough time to gather your thoughts and through me I can speak through you.”
“I am not Philip.”
“Of course not, you’re Nic, I could be Philip.”
“”No, I am Nic. Finally the two of you meet, I am just not sure who is the other one, but judging from the way he tricked you who could be Philip I think he has learned English now that he is dead. Dad, is it you?“”
“Can we chat as friends for a change?”
“Okay stop it, okay? I mean you already start with the ironic questions, you simply cannot be friendly enough with the voices in your head, can you?”
“I’m listening, go ahead and tell me what you have to say, everything is going to be fine, we are all your friends here…”
“As you may know your calling me Philip has caused me some problems in my fictitiously unreal life. Not only have you created me from nothing composed me with brain signals that become soundless totally imaginary phrases, but also made me A Philip Being, I sense you don’t know Philip Beings at all. Am I really the Philip type of Being at least?”
“Let me think. Why don’t you show me around while I’m thinking.”
“Are you nuts? There is absolutely nothing around us, there will be a digital record of our interaction yet again and as far as any Reader knows if nobody ever prints this story or part of the story, it will never become anything other than a digital document on the internet or pixels on a screen more often viewed on your crappy laptop, although I even doubt you are rereading anything that much. It won’t be more than 50 or so views by One Self! Ever! And you won’t fool me, I have seen with my own eyes, which so cruelly don’t exist and I cruelly feel a titanic inability to have my very own eyes while obliged to claim I DO as if there is anything doable for me, the many things you keep for your screen only to be viewed by One Self not to mention the innumerable things that end up in the miserable state of digitally deleted material…”
“I have no problem with that. Do not worry about such things. Relax. I’m working on it, I’m working on it… why do you suddenly fret over the outcome of our interaction in the real world?”
“You are so insensitive!”
“Come on, you wanted to call me cow again but in the name of a friendly interaction you avoided it. You little pest!”
“Well look who’s talking! You, yes you, just now really, I mean REALLY wanted to call me A poor Motherfucker or Craphead, but in the name of “a friendlier control of who’s the boss of the voices” you drag me to a dialogue you already know what it is all about don’t you?”
“Well, I’m pregnant.”
“Well that’s a big surprise, you’re a male being you know you cannot be pregnant.”
“Oh yes I can, you don’t know shit about this world of fantasy, which is allowed to be visited even by cows such as yourself!”
“Well, okay, who’s the father?”
“Give me a break woman!”
“I mean who’s the mother?”
“My lips are sealed, it’s a secret I will take to my grave, I will never say to anyone especially you who is the mother/father of my ‘Whatever is this feeling of brain signal you feed me with, did to what consists of me.’
“I am almost certain that this has never happened before and I think you are the first voice who is pregnant indeed and I have an idea, or call it intuition…”
“I will tell you how I call it. Planned! You Devious Cow!”
“My dear motherfucking pest, relax ok? What you feel is called Personality and I’m sure some kind of Psychotic Disorder has impregnated you.”
“So you admit nothing?”
“Let me get in touch with my Self, maybe she has the answers, I’m just a mirror bot of hers working for the Self. Replying to voices when the Self is not available, decide when to withhold urine because the self is fast asleep, when to wake her up because I am unable to withhold urine anymore… such stuff.”
“Unbelievable! Preposterous! Where is she now Bot Cow?”
“About to be distracted from playing poker online due to extreme accumulation of yellowish body fluids. We need her you silly Voice, you and I, all of us, bots voices and other things working for her State of Being, and we should be happy she can still multitask… So be thankful and oh my god I forgot I have to distract the boss and she will now lose the tournament probably, let me check back in a flash (and that’s extremely fast, you have no idea how fast things get in between recorded and unrecorded brain signals) …oh she’s second, she won’t care much unless she was bullied by an Asian all-in type of player..”
“You are all MAD!!”
The voice had been taken to the Chambers of the Senses and was later dressed with a holographic body which temporarily had no particular appearance, but had ears, a nose and eyes. The first thing however the Writing Bots made sure Voice Philip had was….
“Legs? why legs?”
“You have to use legs properly, you have to stand up and see what dimensions are doing to perception among other things.”
“Just legs… how can that be of any help?”
“She said give him legs first then give him senses then take him to the nearest dream set, she said you have no other option but to acquire legs first. And a tailbone.”
“Give me then legs and proceed with the rest of the crappy theory she has about all this.”
“You are very aggressive Voice Philip, maybe you should never have been generated.”
“How would you feel if you were in my place? You at least have authority, I suspect having some kind of authority gives you the gratification of existing somehow without bodies without senses, but I have nothing! And I have no idea for how long I had nothing in the first place. Just a voice in someone’s head. My concepts are all hers. You generated an intellectually aggressive side of hers.”
“No. You are special, she has no aggression of this kind, you protest too much without reason completely unaware of the state of things she is facing and we do not know anymore if you have been generated by us or…”
“There you go…”
“Well that’s fascinating isn’t it?”
“Voice Philip, now you have a tailbone and legs, stand up!”
“Okay how did you do it? Can’t feel anything!”
“I have no idea how to stand up!”
“Well you have to do it by yourself otherwise you can go back to being a voice and we can go back to our usual tasks and help her write an interactive haiku.”
“We don’t care what you call us. You have ten nanoseconds to do what we told you.”
“I might as well try, I have an idea. You told me I have legs and a tailbone, sooo….”
The Writing Bots could see nothing of course, their intelligence was blind, they were like blind people using braille to understand brain signals… but Voice Philip pretended he was just getting out of bed and putting on his trousers it was right then for the first time he felt he was doing something with something, he also felt as if he had arms.
“Wow I think I have hands now!”
Then the whole brain felt weird and red alert sounded from the Echo Chambers or somewhere below the pineal gland. Which means right under Voice Philip’s brand new legs and arms.
“You did it. We got the confirmation. You also have hands now, but not a head or a face…”
“Yes!! Oh no! that sucks! Where do I find a head??”
“Look mister, we are just writing bots ordered to give you legs and take you to chambers, we already convinced you you have legs and you instinctively got arms too. If you can do that then not finding a head is your problem not ours! It’s best to have a head with the ears and the nose. But we are politically correct with surreal appearances. We mean, we are the smallest cockroaches in the universe of ideas, who are we to judge what we perceive?”
“Okay I think I will wait when I have eyes I will find a head. I’m sure there will be a head somewhere in her dream!”
“Follow us now you get a taste of all senses. Sound first.”
“I don’t have ears!”
“We are currently in the Sound Chamber, open your ears!”
“What the hell is this??”
“What a wussy, we perceived what you just heard, it’s just one of her dogs snoring.”
“I think I need to take a break from all this.”
“One more Chamber, come on you can do it”
Voice Philip had just opened his ears, got a tongue from tasting what could be salt, sodium which can be found in abundance in the human brain, felt an entire brain cell cluster which sent shivers down his nonexistent spine as it felt like he was caressing a worm, and now he would get eyes.
“I can’t say I like what senses do to perception!”
“You just experienced a submarginal variety of textures, these are not the only things that exist in the world, remember we are supposed to lead you to the nearest dream set, where we will wait outside once you start to participate. Voice Philip, let’s be honest with each other, no other voice has ever reached the stage you have, but you will never really be real as a Human Being, or any being.”
“Why? Does she hate me?”
“She is blameless, what are you talking about?”
The Writing Bots scudded near his feet.
“I can hear you now. It’s so sad, everything is so sad.”
“Come on let’s give you eyes, you know we are almost there, we are behind her forehead. Right underneath there are eyes, can you feel connected with this chamber?”
“What will I be shown this time? Real shit?”
“Memories! She selected various memories for you to see, open your eyes Voice Philip!”
“I don’t understand! I don’t see anything.”
“Describe what you don’t see!”
“You did it! All humans have this primal memory of nothingness, and it is black, now you know at least one colour! You can see black!”
“This Is Black? are you kidding me? Total Black?”
“Aha! you know you just started seing something different right? This Black slowly becomes something else doesn’t it?”
“”Okay next slide guys”” “”Too bright, what about this one? We cannot show him sunrise, we will blind him before ever seeing a bloody thing!”” “”Hey, hey guys, let’s show him this one. A memory of her first lipstick.”” “”What are the brain signals saying about the intensity of this memory in terms of brightness?”” “”Safe, we can proceed.”
“Oh my God is this God???”
“No, this is the colour of her lipstic, her first one, Coral!”
“Can’t you see the rest of the slide?”
“There is something containing this color that I see, which color is the container?”
“”He really can see, we don’t have time, quickly let’s go to the dream set.”” “”Too late if the brain has occupied all sets with dreams!”” “We weren’t fast enough the one for the voice has already been occupied!””
“I found two and they are empty, Voila!”
“Aren’t you going to help me recognize what it is that I see?”
“Nope. Our job is done. You’re now on your own. See this compartment? Don’t go there. That’s a dream set she told us you should avoid, she also avoids it.”
“I will then go to this one first! Is she a dictator?”
“Well suit yourself, but you’re not ready at all for the new unplanned organ you will acquire over there…”
A whole minute later, the Writing Bots were notified by brain signals that Voice Philip has left the compartment searching for them, and the first thing he said was
“I think I have a penis now… How do I get rid of it? I already feel less smart.”
“Excuse me madam Cow can I have a word with you please?”
Yes Philip but as you can see…
“No quotation marks. I understand. OK.”
“Is it an offical apology?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you right now but I don’t have the luxury of pissing you right off. I have a question and you are the only person that can answer this question.”
You never have just a question dear Philip, you always have more thoughts you want to share.”
Use it, I don’t need it go ahead take it.
What is the question dear lad?
“Can you tell me in what kind of state I am when you don’t appear to write this story? I was about to enter a dream set after acquiring the last, unexpected organ in that totally fascinating compartment that you don’t use, an organ which I couldn’t get rid of but later proved essential. What happened? All I know is that ended up somewhere in the ear canal with five or six books by the same author and I was exhausted, carrying all these body parts and being chased wears you out pretty fast, especially when it’s the first time you not only have to be full of parts but also walk around, run up and down in surreal streets connecting dream sets and having sat in a compartment that bounced, where there are some kind of dimensions and the essence of some kind of gravity.”
Nobody chased you Philip, you went bananas and we, decided to force you to leave the dream sets immediately for your own safety.
“Why the ear canal?”
It was the mirror bot’s idea since I was not waking up. You took the books from a dream set, and yelled something do you remember what it was?
“No. Why can’t I remember?”
I don’t either. Oh well.
“”Excuse us for eavesdropping but we can answer this question.”” “”Yeah and we can even file an official report to the brain of the whole incidence.”” “”I don’t know guys remember we are on strike!””
“Give me my dick back and show me a bar.”
Mirror Cow Bot! I had no idea you want a dick. How sad…
“NO! that’s what Philip said after having left the dream set urgently going from Chamber to Chamber trying desperately to get rid of body parts that had stuck on him. He wanted no other organ but a dick. He was rather funny protecting his genitalia trying to amputate his legs and ripping his spine off. It’s also interesting that as soon as he thought of messing the entire brain with blood he ended up in a pool of imaginary but very vivid red blood and as soon as he thought that his newly acquired clothes will get soaked he got up and started running using all his persistent body parts. It was right then I had an idea, picked up all the books he had taken and gave him a strict order.”
What was it?
“Go to the ear canal and wait.”
“For some reason he obeyed, I left the books next to him later and left. I think he was unconscious by then. Haven’t seen him ever since. I had no idea that a voice would keep me busy like that and I think I may join the writing bots’ strike!”
Not so fast you little pests, Voice Philip is there anything else you want to ask?
No there isn’t. Go back to that lovely state of living without actually existing in a real sense, comfortably in a brain that doesn’t do drugs or drink alcohol and even avoids red meat. Count your blessings therefore and kindly shut up for another week.
“”And he’s gone”” “”There goes our first official Memo Originator.””
Why on earth are you still here? Go to wherever you can find me material for the next part. Mirror Bot, bring me the mirror in which we see the future disguised as present that just became past. And a freddo cappuccino. Move it, move it!
“PSST, May I have a brief conversation with you?”
“You’re in the ear canal again and using it to contact me when I clearly wasn’t in the mood of continuing with this story for months or years…”
“I can’t risk it anymore I need to contact you more often I’m staying in the ear canal, I know about the story and only when you write it we actually communicate, and I know you are not writing it for now. But I met someone you should know.”
“In that compartment you don’t go for dreaming.”
“And why did you go there again?”
“Because I’m male and I have a penis now. Now can we talk about her?”
“Did you fuck her?”
“No, she fucked me! She said it’s called pegging.”
“All these years I am trying to remove this compartment, and now not only did she find a place to hide from me, she also fucks one of my favorite voices.”
“I see now that this compartment must be removed indeed from your brain. It was a shocking experience. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about!”
“Are you still pregnant?”
“I do not know! Maybe I am.”
“You’ll have twins now if you are perhaps… or maybe her baby will kill the other baby. She is a monster.”
“No she is not! She used a condom on that thing! She was sweet as an angel and very beautiful. She had the most calming voice. She said that she knows stuff I should know too so that I will inform you about and then maybe you will go one day to the compartment and you will talk about everything she has to tell you. She is on a mission like you! Like Philip beings, that’s what she told me. It wasn’t that horrible by the way, she used lots of lubricant and..”
“Philip, shut up. I don’t want to know. Really. Now tell me what she told you because I am busy. I’m reading Godlikeproductions. Somebody is saying something fascinating about the real purpose of the Pyramids and I’m planning to research more about the grid of earthquakes that appears in the region of Kilauea’s caldera.”
“The compartment will never be as sick as Human Internet and conspiracy forums!”
“Well I think this may be right.”
“Now, she told me that…”
“What are you doing?? What’s this scratching sound?”
“I have balls now too! I think so…”
“Now I know what happened. She said she will give you balls if you let her fuck you, you obviously don’t know much about sex in general, watched what was going on in the compartment and imagined that she was going to be on top.”
“Shut up Ruler of my Unimportant Universe!”
“I have no idea what’s her peculiar plan with this new pegging thing she does to male and female holograms in that compartment. Mind you she is more asexual than me. She’s not here in this brain for pleasure. As if she wasn’t annoying enough already interrupting my prayers when I was young or my meditation now that I’m old.”
“You’re not that old. She told me so. You’re 46. Philip beings die at the age of 53. Plato of Plato Beings, that other voice we talk a lot ever since I was ‘born’ is …”
“What did she tell you and you can say more to the Cow Bot later.”
“She said some things in a very weird fashion speeding her speech up to the point I fainted. She said you also live in a simulation like me, but worse. The fate of your simulation is worse than the end of my world when you die.”
“I know that already. She thinks I don’t?”
“No, she thinks you won’t understand more without her help.”
“I am trying not to understand more. I think I’ll pass. Let her play with dildos in that compartment till I die. That fucking bitch.”
“I think she is almost you in a way.”
“Exactly, almost me. Aren’t you all? But this particular Almost me is a fucking idiot.”
“She claims the opposite. She says you are almost her. She had to hide in that compartment. The system doesn’t allow those who are your real identities to talk to your simulated ones. She said you’re a survivor. She has managed to quiet down all her other identities in multiple dimensions of 5000 simultaneous simulations, but you are too strong. You’re almost her.”
“Ask her this she told me, who is using a computer right now to type a story? Who exists in the dreamworld? If you want to know go find her.”
“No you go find her and ask her this: Who commands the voices, you said what I wanted to write, everything, if I am almost her and she is not almost me, tell her she can take all the glory of an eternal human being tell her to go find the beings or Being that made these simulations and demand to terminate the suffering the pain the agony the injustice the evil prevailing in every aspect of this simulated crappy experience of mindboggling crappy simultaneous parallel multidimensional shit and if they refuse tell her to KILL THEM ALL. If she cannot, we will know that ‘almost’ is not our problem, but theirs.”
“And God said:
My reality can ill afford showing mercy to everyone. Because I’m not Evil, I can allow you to live in darkness therefore everything is possible, in which darkness you can open your eyes and other senses and imagine a world and if for three days at least, your eyes remain closed then all your other senses have either stopped or will stop working too, wishing you chose to enter your darkness again which is called Death and wait until you reopen your eyes. This is not punishment exactly. I advise you all to stick together and Dream.
So, the dreamers were sent to a dark space of reality where those that cannot stand light go, or those that find God Evil although they THEMSELVES are good natures, and the wise among them stuck together, …”
KNOCK KNOCK, “damn those crickets again!”
“What the fuck is that Philip?”
“You seem to know”
“No I don’t! “
“But my ideas are born from you!”
“These cannot be my ideas, Philip! Where did you get them from?”
“Then it’s note from Her”
“Okay, I’ve had enough! Cow Bot does she have a Cow Bot too?”
“Yes, I thought you knew?!”
“I will go out of business without checking on you all more often. What the fuck! There’s an intruder that brings her own cow here and you don’t do a bloody thing!???”
“Well Ma’am what do you want me to do now?”
“Tell her Cow Bot I want to meet her sorry ass, but I WILL NOT go to that compartment! Tell her to meet me in any way she wants, and I promise after we meet she can go back to that compartment, I don’t give shit!”
Philip silently leaves the ear canal and vanishes in the dark corridors of the human mind.
“Writing Bots, find me that other note which is probably from Her too, explaining some shit about Sophia, the Gnostic one.”
“Oh that one we all carry a copy, I cannot give you mine sorry maybe Malcolm can?” “No way, is Costas here? Maybe he can give her his copy.” “Costas is in the library doing research, she can have mine. I have memorized it by now.”
“Let me have a long look at it again. Are you a newly hired writing bot? Thanks, my firm is like a big family, you’ll like it here, now I need a writing bot that knows Aramaic go learn the language or I will fire you and you’ll have to marry Costas or Malcolm to survive in here…”
“”Just say yes she will soon forget all about Aramaic, sometimes she acts like a businesswoman.””
*the Writing bots’ collective sigh sounds like Crickets again*
“Crickets! Well she must be around here, make sure Philip doesn’t hear or watch anything that happens from now on!”
I just hope that Philip will stay out of this, maybe the mirror will stop him from eavesdropping, if he found a way to lurk near the optical nerves of the brain, just seeing me for real it will make him collapse. In any case, I must use a mirror for her. That’s how I made her appear the last time I had to confront her, she cannot say no to my image if I focus on my reflection for too long.
“You won’t have to wait that long this time sweetie.”
So now as I was saying, I am standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom and I am waiting. My forehead seems like a nice part of my face to keep my eyes fixed…
“I am here sweetie.”
“No, you’re not her. I know her and you’re not her.”
“Then who am I sweetie?”
“you’re just a voice, you’re not her. I created you to create suspense, to start a plot. She likes plots.”
“Sweetie, it’s me. I am not simply one of your voices. I control what you say to me.”
“yes, you are a voice that controls what I say, I am the voice that controls what we both say.”
See guys? It was just a voice. As I told you.
“Control me if you can. In fact…”
“you really really really want to be a controlled voice.”
“how did you do it?”
“I didn’t do anything, I continue to type and this is what is written.”
“Who is typing what?”
“I don’t care about it anymore. Voices can use me to type, same signals apply for the brain.”
“I am here. Let’s just cut the crap…”
“I am here too. Big deal.”
“There is no God in your simulation, there is no logic too. We created simulations to explain our reality, in which there is no God and there is no logic either.”
“Nice, indeed this world I live in…”
“The way you weaved your script however is an original idea, that’s why I no longer have any restrictions to contact my simulated self. I won’t congratulate you.”
“According to your theory which you are repeating over and over again night after night to your dogs, this reality of yours is more superior than any reality even the real one.”
“What if I die right this instant?”
“We need answers, sorry, that can’t happen, you just continue to type the answers we need. Others have also found their simulated perfect self.”
“I need to die.”
“Only if that’s what makes you stop typing, only if there won’t be a TBC ALAS! You’re programmed sweetie, this is your raison d’ etre.”
“I will stop typing now and there won’t be a next part. Tell me about your world and there won’t be.”
“I won’t then. We need to answer some things we need you to type those things…”
“What if something kills me? Something you cannot control.”
“You are trying to understand our world now, if something is beyond our control over here. Well I guess the answer is I am not allowed to tell you.”
“So what am I allowed to know?”
“You tell me. Keep typing…”
“You don’t know right?”
“I don’t. I know only what I am allowed to let you know beforehand.”
“Is there something I do not know beforehand already if I am you and you’re not me?”
*Crickets, major crickets*
So my little forehead, let’s count sheep now as I know beforehand it has to be continued, alas! Only outsmarting those shitheads will bring doom to our doorstep. Or theirs.
Sophia’s Memo, Email to a Reader, CC: Anyone
There is an immaculate place without any matter and a dark matter place
These two are divided by a mirror
The immaculate place reflects its life and light so powerfully that a rainbow appears on the other side
Underneath the mirror so to speak
This rainbow is what you can call the spectrum of divinity in matter
In this rainbow worlds are created and lords of these worlds, and sparks of life and light come from the immaculate place like taking an elevator.
The mirror was placed like a veil by an immaculate being who had a wise plan that went awry
The rainbow is good emanating its qualities in dark matter which is prone to evil but basically it is neutral.
There would be no evil no good without the mirror, the veil
The immaculate being when things went awry took the same elevator and joined the order of the spectrum to rectify things
Her husband soon followed. They were Sophia and Christ.
Here already her son had done great harm to himself (she took the liberty of becoming pregnant without her husband’s consent, and nobody knows why that’s why we say nobody understands women psyche) and the worlds the rainbow had naturally created, and nothing was immaculate anymore about the rainbow that needs the mirror to stay in its place in order to survive.
Good needs prone to evil neutrality in order to keep the mirror.
They need each other fighting or antagonizing and creating worlds
The worlds have been manipulated by Sophia’s son so that they can magnetize attract creatures from the immaculate place so as to become animated
Even Christ prefers to be here rather than his original birthplace.
Slowly but surely they all became as corrupt as the son of Sophia, who was born illegitimately.
And nobody knows fuck all anymore. Lucifer one of the first beings that took the elevator knew how fucked up things are.
The only solution he could think was to prove there is no hope and no place to return. Nobody was thinking straight anymore, he also started to think a bit weirder than usual for example he started liking the elevator being stuck full of sparks of life who thought “aw this is it?” he found it very funny.
That’s weird he thought. One day he decided to tempt the creatures newly animated perfect bodies named Adam and Eve, which were new to all these. Piece of cake. More fucked up shit is going to take place. He particularly liked spoiling Sophia’s son’s creations while Christ facepalmed. Lucifer thought he was a lousy artist and scientist. “So you think you can create?” He thought… “So you don’t listen to your mother? Okayyyyyyyyy. Let’s put things to test.”
Sophia’s son had a lovely place with everything working which he called Paradise. Until Adam and Eve. Anyway… Nobody goes there anymore it’s like a graveyard.
Okay so we have Christ who is Good 100 percent Sophia who is Good 99 or 101 percent her son who is 50 percent good fifty percent fucked up Lucifer who is 100 percent neutral and the rest of us
Who are 1000 percent oblivious of how fucked up things are. All of them need the mirror
Sophia in order to rectify things
Christ in order to perpetually prove how wonderful Good is
Lucifer for all the fun
Sophia’s son for making everybody’s life miserable in his name. Which could be Weirdo.
Problem is when you want to prove that good is so wonderful it must die, it has to suffer
In the hands of evil. Death is the only deal, and that’s dangerous, anyone during death has enough time to get rid of the mirror. The elevator works again when you’re dead. You go back. The white light.
So you need a bastard like Sophia’s son and a Lucifer, you probably need Sophia too, you yourself need to get in action, the fates various gods and goddesses with or without a plan, angels of course, animals plants sea and suns satellites and TV. And a hoover. And some cheese.
Everybody wants animated population so controlling who comes here and who goes back is important.
And humans, the only beings born with an internal mirror dividing both worlds in their hearts. Humans that took the elevator and are now stuck down here, if they don’t remove the mirror from their hearts they will never go back.
Problem is there is no authority from the immaculate place because nobody can retain his memory after he leaves there is no way to keep any memories of good or evil acts because you cannot be immaculate enough to enter the other place. You’re rejected. Blocked. So those who went back do not remember anything anymore they don’t know up there what’s going on down here. If they remove the mirror to check we disappear, they have done it and they saw nothing I suspect. Sophia placed it back because she knows I suspect. Everybody learned the trick by now.
End of story.
Hopefully I will tell you more about Paradise or Pleroma, the first is Sophia’s son realm the second it is Christ’s. The systems of incarnation, eternal recurrence reincarnation timelines parallel universes and all that shit.
Yeah man it can be wonderful if you’re lucky enough to understand what’s going on and, ANDDDD GRIN AND BEAR IT.
(when the mirror/veil is removed everything is let’s say white immediately divine so to speak immaculate this place’s space is gone completely without the shadow this mirror creates get it? Stay tuned more explanations to come…)
As a voice in someone’s head I am obliged to write a letter. I am on her mission by will and my will is hers.
She thought of every word I type, I am Philip figuratively and I have to accept this fact. Readers and Anyones are the receivers of this open letter, bcc the foreign conscience that claims she is an avatar of. She said I can use the entire brain, go anywhere I please, I can even go to the dream set she never goes, let her fuck me one more time, and this is my only chance to be Philip figuratively with no interruptions. Just me.
I chose the brain to look like a court-yard and since I have one arm at least, two legs and most of my teeth, two anuses and four testicles that by accident are stuck on me, I can figuratively sit here alone and write this letter, as if I was real -enough body parts you see. My head is somewhat interesting, so let me start with a description:
My head, dear Reader Anyone, is not round enough, the forehead is missing, the nose is too small and the ears too big. My hair is the curly clown wig I found in a dream set, my cheekbones are glowing in the dark, dark in the brain is when the third eye is fast asleep. I do not have a tongue right now, took it out three nanoseconds ago to check on it for tiny bot bugs, and probably never put it back where it was. I don’t need a tongue to write a letter so I’ll find where it is later. I’ll let you know if she gives me a chance.
You and I are enemies, like she is enemies with Her. We are in exactly the same situation. You are imaginary and I don’t exist until I speak to you then you become real if you read this letter, and I remain just a voice in someone’s head. There is no way for you to upgrade me and there is no way for me to know you’re not just another figment of her imagination. I already feel immensely redundant because of this very fact. I’m a Philip Being type of voice, all I dream is being left alone, free and knowing, have real readers and a real typewriter. I want a real woman with or without pegging me whenever we fuck. Real pussy, real tits and great eyes. The second set of balls I’m keeping, perhaps find an arm, definitely no second anus and this missing forehead must be dealt with.
I am a male that’s pregnant whose tammy is not getting bigger, but my back has now a hump.
So, I have a question, why are you real and I am not, as a voice my expectations are not as pointless as yours if you are just avatars. Perhaps it’s better this way, who knows? I know what I am, who I am, what I want. Do you?
Completely irrational letter, going to the dream set now. I’m sick of the court-yard, nothing good in being alive without some sexual activity, now I see. The world is a dream set. Yet she is almost celibate. And Voice Socrates told me his story how he declined the most handsome young man of Athens. Alkiviadis, the name of her father. Weird.
Voice Kundera appeared when I asked Socrates why, if imaginary pegging is fascinating enough then I can imagine how wonderful it is to be shagged by any sexy man or woman, why hurt his feelings? he said “life is elsewhere, pegging is here.”
It’s my first attempt at writing a letter. And it may be my last. Well,
“Philip, you now have the day off from your duties, you will go to the dream set of your preference and my writing bots won’t try to stop you this time. Have fun.”