First They Tried To Seal Bottles

In twenty-five years people would start popping up out of society, picking up guns and shooting humans. As if implanted Russian Agents awakened on demand they would more and more approaching once a week pop up and fire off fifty rounds. What is it in the soul that absorbs things and adjusts in this manner? They wouldn’t receive a lot of attention except from the people who missed the dead, until the numbers became so many (just recently five mass killings on five consecutive days and still not a lot of attention being paid) that everyone knew something was terribly wrong. That thing that is wrong has to be identified, Golem thinks as he sits on the edge of the sea. He started out life so right, proud of his nation and omnipotent and now it was as if the very mention of the words: proud to be an Iguanian made him sick. He wanted to be proud of something in the future. The past was far behind. He wanted to be proud of his nation right now. Of course at the end of Chapter Seven he is proud, it was a bit strange that pills now had to be wrapped in containers that couldn’t be opened in the store because someone had put some poison in a bottle. But he was a kid when that happened and it registered in amongst the summer days and running around creating havoc. Yet that incident would remain in his mind for many years, and he would look back at it one day as a sort of a beginning to sordid ways. Even then he might have known that producing sealed bottles couldn’t stop it. They would always find another way. A sealed bottle was a sign of hiding. You can run, but you cannot hide. Tic…tic…tic…


Is the third dimension written by the fourth and read by them? Would the fourth dimension care if a few ‘pages’ of the second were burned and thrown away? It’s only writing after all. A few pages burned, Like a book thrown into a fire. The book cares or is cared for by those in one dimension. The third might be of interest to the second, — the fourth could barely care.
For those of the fourth dimension all the stories told by the third were stories they’d heard before. If one story, one epoch, was missing, not many would notice. Just as if a few books were burned, so many would remain. A page or a hundred missing from millions of video games played—by humans trying to represent the third dimension, when they were in fact living in that third dimension. Those of the fourth were interested in their own dimension. The pyramids played a role (not virtual) in that. They had written a lot of stories, but they always looked upon them as just that. Never pretended to see the fifth dimension. Things were clear to those in the fourth dimension, they could see through doors, could look into your heart.