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Persons attempting to find a plot in this narrative will be shot by order of the author.
Magic Pink Bubble Floats Over City.
Among the masks and roles of your everyday reality there is a genuine human being living a life. Speak out. Ask for what you want—there are only two risks attached. The first is that asking will let both you and others know who and where you are. Necessary for learning your real identity. The second risk in asking for what you want is that you might get it.
Safe journeys, space fans. Wherever you are.
It's about finding out who you are, in the space between the notes that they're offering you.
Just as we look back at the early decades of the industrial age and wonder how our ancestors could have ignored pollution in their rush to build the world, our grandchildren will look at the early decades of the information age and judge how we addressed data collection and misuse.
We should try to make them proud.
In the air hangs the scent of birthday candles blown out, which I have always associated with the presence of ghosts.
In a weak moment, Wheeler put his name on a paper with two other physicists named Everett and Graham, in which they proposed that there are literally millions of universes in which slightly distorted xerox copies of each of us are going through all possible permutations of the life-scripts we are going through here.
If this makes you dizzy, take comfort in the the thought that it only includes possible universes. The EWG model does not say that copies of you are wandering around in totally impossible universes.
—Robert Anton Wilson