*image by Ben Harubin

 

Ordinary consciousness is no more individual to a man
than a specific gazelle is food for a particular lion.

 

 

There was once a planet on which one particular species was born with an ability
unique to that world, an ability which seemed to serve them well, and in fact
put them in the paramount position amongst all of the creatures. But deep within
all of this glory, glamour, and power were a small number of the species who,
although fully recognizing the advantages their kind collectively enjoyed from
this special ability, never-the-less for reasons known only to them (at best, it would seem)
became caught up in questioning its role and necessity in the life of the individual
(that is to say, themselves individually).

Contemporaneous to this (back here on Earth) was a small band of railroad engineers
who undertook to separate their "thinking about" where their trains were going
and their actual travel.

 

Since the thoughts passing through him continually and forcibly seemed to be
operating on the basis of "try this on for size," one man retaliated by
declaring that he was no "size."

Your coffin can't be built if your height's unknown, and you can't be shot
'til your preference in bullets is ascertained.

You can't stave off death, but stupidity-by-distraction can be held at
bay...if you'll simply -- disappear.

 

In that universe just on the other side of this one, men have to expend
effort to stay asleep, captive, and in the dark.
...What's that?...What's that you ask? -- what is the difference between
that and how things are here?
I can hardly believe you spoke such words.
Outta here! Out, spam dot!

 

In the temple, down on his knees, a man was overheard praying to the local deity,
"Dear God, I've never asked you for anything before, but I certainly would appreciate
it if you could help me through this present...uhh...unpleasantness."
And unexpectedly the voice of the divine audibly replied, "Which is?"
"Uh, being alive," said the startled man.