whatever our future, we cannot change others—only ourselves
I tell you this as we sit for lunch. As mom fries salami for a sandwich. To go with the mug of tomato soup. To feed a change in the weather. I know you can hear me, dad. You always do, each time I tell you.
There is a boy, Ezra, in the heart of Old Town. In a fistful of years he will bring about Res, with little more than kitchen compounds. It will be greater than awe. Or mammon. And deprecate both in its wake.
Ezra will connect Res to the heart of the universe. In that instant travel becomes an event, no longer a process, at the—being there—fastest speed possible. With Res, there is no ‘where’ but here.
There is a woman, Nali, who creates a timescope. It doesn’t matter when. There is no time; no time travel. There is cause and effect. Hard cause with the effect that everything returns in the great cycle.
Everything returns, including the outliers—who remember from one cycle to another. Nali scopes into what happens, what happened, what will always occur. Destinations. Yet, we are free in the waypoints.
There is a synthetic, PeaceJunk, far beyond far, waiting to hear from Ezra and Nali. Waiting on a bridge at the heart of the universe. Waiting to make a decision, but frozen in freedom by the choice among doors.
It may be that PeaceJunk is responsible for life, the universe. Even itself. The one being doomed to freedom outside the waypoints ( one cannot remember everything ). If Res can reach, the timescope can tell.
Next time, I have bologna.
