theMystery.doc
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{ } her on the 83rd floor.
There’s five people trapped, right?
{ } the girl was talking to,
everybody’s unconscious now.
Everybody’s snoring. Tell them everybody’s snoring!
{ } call her mother, and left her last wishes with—
It’s dead.
It’s dead? No, all we hear is—
No! It’s not dead! IT’S NOT DEAD!
ACD!
ACD!
ACD!
ACD!
ACD!
ACD!
ACD!
What’s your ACD number again?
Uh, 2252.
2252 is not dead! They’re—they’re snoring!
Are they—they asleep?
They’re snoring. They sound like, you know, you get unconscious, a real deep sleep because, you snore.
OK.
So they’re snoring. I don’t know if she’s unconscious or just out of breath, but it sounds like they’re unconscious and snoring. That’s why I keep talking to her.
Oh, OK. Are they empty? I mean, { }
Yes.
The line is dead now. They hung up.
Oh, my Lord.
The line the line is now dead…
No. No. This is—
[deleted]
No, no. The line is dead. They cuttin the line. The line is off now.
OK, thank you, ACD.
X
THIS IS ALL just a web of hypotheticals. We are not dealing here with certainties, or with anything that could ever be quantified, measured, tested, defined, codified, and peer-reviewed.
And I know the quantum surgeon’s mind, hard at work, functions as a multi-level, multi-state processor, containing all the information it has collected and much his ancestors have handed down—and we won’t ask him now, because he’s busy, his conscious mind a-twitter dealing with the matter at his hand… but if we had the ability to bypass his conscious mind so as not to disturb it and tap directly into his memory banks, engage it in conversation, and ask:
>WHAT IS ALL OF THIS… REALLY?
…I know that he (all.those.bits.of.data, however stored) would tell us that all of IT—all the WORLD, all the SUNS and the MOONS and the STARS—all of MERCURY VENUS JUPITER AND MARS—all of HIM, all of HER, all of HE, all of SHE, all of YOU, all of ME—all of EVERYTHING—
is all, in all probability,
just random buckshot { } particles
that were scattered
after a big
BOOM!
then somehow brought together by the { }waves…
★
Claire: …………………………………He’s breathin again, huh?
★
December 8, 2006
Dear Campbell,
I am very sorry for my delayed response to you, The delay means love has deepened and increased, and comes back with the gifts Jesus has to gives us all. How marvelous that ordinary moments become sacred moments, for you, son of the great God we serve today together.
★
Anne: He’s breathing again.
★
I can rest. I can write. I can insure, but known are as guarantee that there is coming for good ministry. My memory is to say that the Lord will incurably reward your incredible kindness towards me. Thank you my friend, Campbell.
★
Claire: Go, Mike!
M: He’s on an adventure …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
★
Campbell, my fuzzy, no brain low watt is still working right. It does since clean up all right but sometimes fill by mass catches up. Then the only pure way is to try to escape to Jesus callings with divine love.
★
And that however it is done, however it’s all put together, it’s not by magic, and it’s not on purpose, the quantum surgeon is a scientist after all and scientists know that there is no meaning in matter beyond what we project onto it there is no meaning in substance, no meaning in time, no meaning in any of it,
★
Camp, I really love you. My words keep robbing of the meaning.
★
it’s just waves
it’s just particles
it’s just waves
★
They do receive of all that. Somewhere did the receiver makes the receiver get twisted. Such gets the broken, the broken
★
just waves and particles interacting on the matrix of spacetime, bound by the physical laws, bound by cause and effect, bound by gravity, bound by light, completely insentient, completely blind, completely unconcerned with us, completely unconcerned with meaning, and that there is no room for anything approximating Providence, Fate, Destiny, or Divine Grace in any way.
{There’s just loss.}
★
[unsent]
★
There’s no Higher Order.
No Intelligence.
{There’s just loss.}
No one driving the train.
No one’s sailing the ship.
There’s just { }
No one rowing the boat.
There’s nothing at the center.
There’s just { }
There’s no center.
★
There’s just { }
Claire: Now this is back to normal breathing.
M: I know, it’s crazy…
★
There’s no center.
There’s nothing at the center.
There’s just { }
No one rowing the boat.
No one’s sailing the ship.
There’s just { }
No one driving the train.
No Intelligence.
There’s no Higher Order.
There’s just { }
There’s just particles
just waves
flowing randomly
★
through space
★
built up at the beginning
randomly
from particles
from waves
★
gaining
form
gaining structure
then losing
everything
There’s just { }
breaking down in the end
★
randomly
into particles
into waves
into waves
into waves
★
to be scattered
★
★
to be scattered
★
to be lost
again and again and
again.
{ }
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken
, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
Such gets the broken, the broken
M: I think we’re in the middle of the castle right now. You know?
W: We’re in the boat. I suppose the boat and castle might be the same thing. The dome, the tub, the boat… and yes, the castle…………………………
M: The middle of summer.
W: Uh-huh.
M: I mean the beginning of summer….
W: Well, we do always say we have our drawbridge up.
M: Yeah…
W: These grounds are not open to the public……………………………………………………………
M: It’s… Oh, man… I like talking to you about it, because it starts making more sense to me.
W: It does?
M: Yeah.
W: But I don’t know anything about it! [laughs]
M: Well, it just makes more sense…
M: It’s just another way of… because… they are walking to the fair in the middle of the castle, you know?
W: Yeah.
M: And so maybe that’s why he—that’s why he can’t—that’s why he doesn’t bring her with him… Because she’s stolen—that’s when she’s stolen!
W: That’s cool! Because that’s the thing about , it’s got slippery time.
M: Yeah.
W: So she’s stolen from the exact place that she’s going to be found.
M: Yeah. And it makes… A FUCKING SHITLOAD OF SENSE when you realize why he can’t—why he—what the problem is… And it’s not a secret, I mean, the problem is… they have to die, and he has to find a way to stop… dying.
W: Yeah.
M: You know? [laughs] It’s that simple! But that’s the—that’s what everyone’s been looking for!… And um… so she asks him this question… And that’s gotta be the last thing that she asks him at the beginning of the book, right before she’s snatched away—the last thing she says!
W: Oh, there’s one thing she asks him?
M: Yeah.
W: In the castle?
M: Yeah.
W: Really?
>YOURE GONNA GIVE AWAY THE { }?
CHAPTER SIX
I’m an agent. All right.
I’m willing to admit that. But what kind? What do I do? And, perhaps more importantly, why? It seems certain that I have enemies. But do I have any friends? Who do I work for? Myself? Am I my own boss? Am I self-motivated? Or is there someone out there waiting for my report? Eva gave a report. Winsome’s missing. Stu stole Aunt Sarah’s car. Old clay pipes break. At the joints. It hurts. Poor Gerald’s legs. Candy’s usually not this disorganized. Olive went to the Great Bed Bath & BEYOND. What side am I on? Who’s winning? The Mona Lisa? Shakespeare? What’s the score? The kingdom. The serpent. The hero. Zero zero zero. You win some you lose some. Trash day’s tomorrow. Who hired me? What was I hired to do? Pop? Hyde? themystery.doc.
“It’s too bad you’re gonna die soon,” said the talking bear to my left. “Because it strikes me that what’s happening to you would make an interesting story.”
“You got that right,” I said, trying to sound agreeable in spite of the fact that there was a fifty percent chance he was the galoot who had walloped my jaw, and there was just as good a chance that he was going to be the trigger man. “Except you don’t even know the half of it.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What’s the other half?”
“The other half is what I think makes the story truly interesting. You see, it turns out I woke up this morning with total amnesia.”
Somewhere out there in the blindfolding darkness a teenage girl snorted derisively.
“Oh, I know a lot of people will tell you that amnesia doesn’t really exist,” I continued, “that it’s just some made-up condition they use in books and movies to start a plot moving. Well, I’m here to tell you that it does. Take it from me: Amnesia is real.”
“It is?”
“Yes. And I’m the proof. I don’t know who the hell I am.”
Another snort.
“Really?” said the bear.
“Yeah.”
“How’d it happen? Bop on the bean? Or was it a ‘his memory gets wiped’ sort of thing?”
“Let me answer your question by asking you one: wouldn’t the man with the amnesia be the last to know?”
“Yeah, I guess so!”
The car was cruising down the highway, headed somewhere. I didn’t know where. Though I knew that wherever it was I didn’t want to go there. The car had wide seats, no air conditioning. A motor that went VROOM. My legs were no longer tied, they were free, and my hands had been untied and retied in front of me. And there was a sleeping mask over my eyes. There was a thick body on either side. Bear One and Bear Two. They had me squeezed in tight between them. The wind blew in through the windows. If I’d thought Charles’ drain snaking van was ripe it was only because I hadn’t yet been sandwiched between two sweaty, shirtless circus animals. They both sat with their legs apart, their giant arms relaxed at their sides, taking up more than their share of space. I felt like a giraffe at an elephant party. In the front, from what I gathered, sat MOM and beside her Candice, and beside Candice whoever it was who was driving. Maybe Louie, maybe one of the others. Whoever he was he didn’t talk.
“I for one believe amnesia’s probably real,” said the bear to my right. “I’ve seen a lot of crazier things than that.”
“Have you?” I asked.
“Yeah. Sometimes I think about maybe writing a book someday.”
“Well, you should!”
“You think so?”
“Sure! I’m sure you have lots of stories to tell, and a very unique perspective. And that’s the real purpose of literature at the end of the day, isn’t it? To pass on our unique perspectives? To share our common humanity with one another? To pass along a record of our lives and times, so that those who come after us can learn from what we went through?”
“Like how when you’re about to execute somebody sometimes they just stand there.”
“Pardon me?” I said.
“Sometimes they freeze up and just stand there.”
“Do they?”
“Sometimes. Like one time I was gonna kill this agent and the MO on him was he was hard as nails and real slippery. And when I got him cornered I was nervous I was falling into some trick, because as soon as my gun came out he froze and it was easy. I just walked up to him and put the gun to his head.
And instead of fighting or trying to get away he just froze. I remember looking around and thinking I was on Candid Camera. This guy’s supposed to be slippery? Well, I snapped out of it and I pulled the trigger and click. Nothing happened. I thought he had done some voodoo on my gun. But then I saw I was just out of ammo. Well, now he coulda run for sure. He coulda got away easily. He was lanky like you, and a fast runner, and there’s no way I would have caught him. But he just kept standing there like he was a deer in headlights. Didn’t move, didn’t breathe, I don’t think he even blinked. And I had time to reach into my pocket, pull out a clip, and reload. It probably took fifteen or twenty seconds all told, and the whole time the looney just stood there like a freakin’ statue. Well, I put the gun back up to his head again and: Bip. Bam. Boom. Goodbye agent. It was the weirdest thing I ever saw.”