Sunday, November 24, 2013
What Did You Do With Mr. Nice Guy
This is one of those horrible opportunities to heal that painful rift inside of me. I've always kept my inner business man chained up in my inner basement. Vera wants me to change the past by not writing it in the first place. All I have to do is fail. It's said you can't change the past, I don't want to change it anyways. Because I had arranged for this alternate timeline, all I had to do is step over this new event horizon and leave my friends behind. I'm my own best friend anyways. Much to the objections of my shadow self, I forced the inner me out of the cozy basement where he was happy all alone causing harm to no one. When I released my manuscripts into the world, that brilliant wedge of "Complementarity" was a bombshell that exploded the popular myth of "IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES." People now days in the future can't say they don't understand. The vehicle of "Social Recursion" makes it impossible to lie about mutually assured differences. Cults now days are honored concessioneers of the practical fix. Here in the future we don't need to waste time on attachments anymore, no matter what we're doing. Love is love, and if things work out great. Soft spiritual technologies have finally caught up with the rest of modern life.
But the first casualty of my radical "Reversal" of temperament was my outworn better nature. I still have great empathy but I haven't been any fun for a long time. This is why my personal inner business man wanted to stay submerged in secure solitude. I was very happy hiding behind the designation of being seriously mentally ill. As long as our society devalued the place of hidden disabilities in shaping and informing the publics shared views, I was a pleasant nobody. Now my face is recognized the world over. I've become just another popular schmuck. Very few people understand my research even today. But it reveals and provides for a better shared existence for everybody. But had I been more normal, there was too great of a chance that the mass proliferation of practical spiritual technologies would have never been accessible to the popular culture. My work, as I had expected, proved to be most needed by intelligent and elite people in positions of power and influence. There was too great a chance that the world would have finally come to an end, had I not published my work. Boy, this book looked really stupid when I first wrote it.
It doesn't seem that crazy now here in the future, as it has become one of many useful practical manuals for thought mapping in neuro physics. Society had to catch up, and it has, and it started with popular media. I felt so bad for my friends. They knew me as just being pleasantly insane. But just like my own inner businessman, my friends too had to get out of their own way if they wanted to succeed. The irony is, by taking this most trivial, but most heavily prejudiced subject of psychic reading, and turning it into a lifeline for the 21st century, I won.
I'm beginning to think maybe Vera and the other coverts are trying to get me to jump so as to make me look crazy. It would be much easier for them to blame me for the corrupted social programming, from the very beginning. It has always been much easier to market the mystique of rapid conversion, than it is to help everyone to be knowledgeably proactive about everyones own personal responsibility. The "Vision Quest" has always been fraught with self indulgent disincentives.
I refocus and notice Vera's still growling. I think she recognizes that I'm not impressed by the spiritual abuse and meta speak. I'm sheepishly smiling. It's breaking the tension. She says, "What?" "You're not convinced?" "Your useless, I'm going to let you talk to Terry now." "I think you need to be taught a lesson." She taps a panel on her desk. "Mr. Johnson is ready for his closeup." Then she says, "Don't try to move, you've been compromised." "If you try to get up now, you'll fall, and I don't want to have to clean up your mess." " I have to leave because you stink." I didn't think she cared.
