So this is where we are now, eh, Kupkā? We have a little agony, we have
a little extasy [sic], and we understand each other, the universe. Is that how
it works? Is that what we’ve become, a strict dichotomy, a caricature of
ourselves? Where’s our nuance, our depth? Where’s our HUMANITY?
Look, I apologize for the outburst there, but do realize that it’s just
what your “tones and drones” do to me, you know what I mean? They sink in, get
all up in that spongy mass of brain situated somewhere in that skull of mine.
They make me think uncomfortable thoughts, make me question what it is
everything’s all about. It could just be the ones and zeroes, or it could be
the organisms reproducing rapidly under the microscope, but I just can’t seem
to get a sense of scale right now. I may be my normal six-foot self, or I may
be hundreds of billions of miles across. Agony.
Extasy. That’s it, isn’t it, Kupkā? Just gotta pinpoint the extasy and
I’ll have it. Then maybe there’ll be a balance, an equilibrium, a moment of
transcendence. But I’m not there yet, I’m still percolating in your primordial
sauce, your secret star potion, your magnificent ooze. I’ll percolate there for
a while yet, drifting from one thought to the next, unable to break the stasis
and get a grip. Unable to center.
We can’t all be you, Kupkā. No matter how goddamned hard we try, we
can’t all be you.
--Ryan
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