Golem Intercepts a Transmission from the Antenna

RULE # 1 If the destruction of a nation is the ultimate goal, cause the people to be divided. If the ultimate destruction of the human race is the goal, cause the world to fight amongst themselves. Split them up in impossible to reconcile configurations. Confuse their borders. Sooner or later the tower will fall.

He lifted off the bed, worried about hitting the ceiling fan, went out the window, above a slanted, shingled ledge that dropped off onto a noisy, bustling street below not unlike those in the story The Streets of San Francisco. “It’s not a suicide,” he yelled to those on the ground. He floated up above the tiles, for a moment he thought he’d lose his concentration and his power of flying, and then floated back into the room. He considered for a moment the Earth had lost its gravity, but he had flown. It was as if he had turned off that physical quantity, and as long as he let it, and didn’t think he couldn’t do it, he could float up and over the city. He was timid as he went out the window and for a moment had considered falling, but he returned to the state that allowed him to float. It was a very real dream, he remembered every detail. But amongst his dreams was one detail that never left him—we were clones. The proximity of the antenna to the hut on the sand … if not for that he may never have known. It wasn’t in the cards for clones to know they were clones, as they explored the universe on a planet, ship with an everlasting food supply. Yet, he was still human and at times figured it must be in jest, and at times while in another state of mind he’d reflect and try to tell a lie to himself to make himself feel easy—