Chapter Thirty-Three: Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control

["Then… escape. Would you, if…?"]

Pause. Blank. Blank page.

Where are we?

("I'm alive, aren't I? Yes… No point in even asking. That wasn't death. I am more certain of existence than ever, maybe. But…")

["...But…?"]

("I don't know what's real anymore. ...No… I was learning… More properly: that so much I thought was real wasn't. Or even more: So many assumptions I was not aware of were not real. I created them, at some point. And they continued to exist on their own. And one day, I forgot they were created. Or they came to me, created, as a child, so that I never even knew they were a construction. But now I see they were creations— not real, not natural. They were created by me, accidentally. Sometimes purposefully. But many accidentally. But if so much of what I believed, on a fundamental level of relations, was false all along— How can I know what is real? Now?")

["What is real now is what is now. —What is now?"]

("I'm afraid of saying. I'm afraid… that what I see is still illusion.")

["What's wrong with illusion?"]

("I'm afraid of harmful illusion. The snares of thorn that will tie me down, dig into my flesh, cause me to suffer. I want to hold good reality. How can I trust any of this?")

["Surely…"]

("Yes, I know I exist. At least, the One exists. My consciousness may flit from idea to idea, morphing itself, but there is certainly a kernel that remains always at the center. Maybe that's the soul? I thought Descartes was disproven, believing in 'I think, therefore I am'...

…'Yeah, so what if you think? How many different, opposing thoughts are in a head?' But… I think to understand properly… Forget the 'thinking' part.

More fundamentally, there is something within that always exists. The ability to observe, maybe.")

["Hmmm…"]

("I interrupted you, didn't I? Yes. I assumed what you were going to say, based on what I was already thinking. And thus I lost the truth. The truth is to truly listen to others, to stay intent… Because…")

["..."]

("Your silence… Are you real? I can sit and make up ideas in my head all day. But…

But ultimately, the realest thing of all, to consciousness, is other people. I can make up ideas about the world, but I can only begin to understand if they're true if I talk. The truth is found through establishing a dialectic. A conversation.

Can I… Can I touch you? Just… your arm…")

["Go ahead."]

("Yes, I feel you're real. Compared to all the thoughts and fears in my head, the sensation of touching another living person is realer than all of that. Ha… Ah…")

["..."]

("Without the conversation, there is no truth. Without comparison, without ratio, there is only void. I may sit in silence and try to clear my mind. And then what? If I remain alone, then what? I may build a series of fantasies in my head. But it's not real.

If someone else agrees with me, though…"

"If someone else agrees… If we both see… Do you see that draped pillar there? The cloth is torn, running down the front of the stone…?")

["Yes, I see it."]

("And we both agree it's true. It's real. The details may begin to differ, but if we come to agreement on anything… That becomes more real. And the more people agree, the more real it becomes.")

["What about the unconscious? What about secrets of the mind? What about God or the gods?"]

("Constructions… Air, that I cannot grasp. I think at least, with focused conversation, we could come to agree on a greater power of some kind, whether that is God, the unconscious mind, or a plethora of nature spirits. I think almost everyone, and pretty much every culture, believes in a hidden, greater power, than that available to the limited person.")

["Probably, yes."]

("The darker secrets… I will turn away from. Or, I will uncover their truth, through conversation. It might be nice to believe in an angel watching over us, or a personal anima guiding each of us, but if no one else agrees with the basic idea, then the idea loses power. To be a Living Idea, there must be agreement. ...At least, in youth.")

["At least in youth?"]

("I think with greater age comes a certain wisdom and awareness of unspeakable secrets. Not unspeakable as in scary, but that beyond words. For instance, the greater awareness of 'spiritual powers'... Jung considers it the descent from the peak of life, into death. When it is time to come to terms with the powers that have been guiding you all along.

But that awareness, I think, is not for youth.

Waluigi… He… I think…")

["Go on. Continue. I am interested."]

("Waluigi fell to internal chaos. He fell to… Not just internal chaos, but the powers behind the chaos. He wanted to know who or what was responsible, where did the Flow of energy come from. ...Only a ripened mind can begin to safely grasp their form. If you are young… you risk splitting your mind open. Schizophrenia, most commonly…

Um, what do you think? Do you agree?")

["I believe in your words. Go on."]

("But more specifically… Of my ideas, do you agree with them so far? Do you think some of them are wrong?")

["Do not ask me for consensus. Despite my flesh, I am a shadow. I have been living underground for centuries. What do I know? But… I can say…

I am real. You are real. This church is real."]

("Yes, I see it. I see more now… I see… This church is shining. It is new. Do you see it?")

["I see this church exists. I see the tapestry, I see the glass."]

("My mind exists. It is the machine that translates all of this. To relate to the Other…

Yes, because at bottom, there is I, and You. And the creation of this entire reality is between me and you. Right now. But… even when you, specifically you, priest, are not there, the reality, the relationship, continues. There is always a relationship. Even when I am apparently alone. The Subject and the Object are the two pieces that always constitute existence. Object, speaking philosophically… Because the realest 'Objects' are people. And even when people are not here, there is…

Is that God? Whoever is at the other end of the tether, the ever-lasting relationship? The ever-existing Other, the ever-existing Object, that contrasts the Subject, the Self? The force that becomes more powerful when there are more people, or more focus on other people, but that always, always exists, to create reality…?")

["What a remarkable idea."]

("Do you agree?")

["Shhh. Continue."]

("But, I want agreement. I want consensus. My words may just be air, or I might not be clear enough… Or the words might be true, but too hard to understand, or they might be completely wrong anyway. I need your feedback. I want dialectic, conversation.")

["Consider me a short ladder… to return you to the truly real world. Ask them."]

("Who?")

["The real people. The realer people."]

("Then who are you?")

["You already know I am not of this world. I would have died a long time ago, but for my powers."]

("You're Devada, aren't you?")

["You rightfully seek the conversation. It is the source of transformative power, whether the conversation is through words, or through physical acts of good creation, or even through sexual practice."]

("The details do not matter… 'God' is in the conversation. The give-and-take of the interaction. It is the fundamental interaction that creates all reality. Even in private creation, such as writing a poem or a story, it is the interaction with those who wrote before you. The conversation or dialectic is the truest existence.")

["Then…"]

("Then in order to build this world, in order to seek the most powerful, greatest reality, there must be interaction. More interaction. Collaboration. Conversation. Dialectic. Meeting more people. Returning to old acquaintances. The building of links, across the country, across the planet. The union of peoples. The sharing of ideas. Shared creation. Building…")

["Your face is red. You're sweating."]

("My mind is racing furiously. Connections are being made… I forgot everything for a moment… System reboot… And now I'm understanding again. Relationships… are truth. My truth at least… But then, the truth of the world, for the greater powers are what more people agree exists. If we would prosper…")

["Go out. Return to the world of the living…"]

("Go out. Return to the people. Return to my nation… I've been running. I still don't know from what exactly, but in order to save myself and the world, there must be communion. Community, of some sort. Meaning through interaction with other people.")

["Then, go."]

("I get up, and I go, and I walk out this church door, this shining door—")

"Whoa whoa, slow down, buddy."

"Blindingly white… This place shines… How did it happen? Ah, well… Maybe I'm only imagining it…"

"Yeah, wait, I think you should take a seat… How long have you been out here?"

"The door…"

"Wait, buddy, you're shaking…"

"...Argh…!"

"Oh shit! Yeah… Lotta rubble around here… You okay?"

"Ah… fuck… Hahaha… I scraped my arm… Hahaha… Feels good."

"Feels good?"

"I'm bleeding. My body is helping me… Ow…"

"Yikes. I think I might have a bandaid in my backpack. Hold on a minute… Dang…"

"Wait… I think…"

"..."

"..."

"Oh, yeah… Huh…"

"What the hell?"

"Oh… huh… I think it healed… At least… I think…"

"What the hell happened to your arm?!"

"Yeah, that doesn't look like a koopa's arm, huh? What if…?"

"..."

"..."

"I don't know if there are any mirrors here, but… There are puddles… Has it been raining?"

"Yeah, it's been raining for the last two days…. But… What the hell d'you'd…?!"

"Ah… Oh yeah… Look at that. I'm not imagining…?"

"You have a human arm!"

"Huh, yeah. Didn't need to yell, but… Yes… I…

I see it in my head now, and… It's getting clearer to me… Thank you, Devada…"

"Huh?"

"And, thank you…?"

"A-Andy."

"Andy. Right. Thank you. I don't think I'll need a bandaid… I'd like to tell you what just happened, but… I don't think I can explain it yet. And… I can't stay here now… This isn't my place anymore… There's... Someone I have to talk to… Several people..."

"Uhh…"

"I'm sure we'll meet again, Andy."

"G-goodbye?"

"If I vanish, don't be surprised. Goodbye."

"If….?"

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