Cosmologists, oneirologists, and temporal sages argue endlessly about time. They don't feel that talking about Time, while she is in the room is rude or a waste of time. In fact, Time is a favorite of theirs, about which to debate.
Among these eggheads, there is more disagreement about time than any other topic. They can't even come to a consensus about whether Time is a discrete, sentient being or merely an idea, created by mankind. Regardless of what these eggheads may think, Time keeps marching on toward The Crack of Doom. Why can't these eggheads understand their heads are blinding them to the egg upon their faces?
What is this concept we refer to as, natural law? Everyone and everything is born or created with certain inalienable rights. These rights form the foundation of natural law, the true law of The Cosmos.
All beings and things react in one way or another to the reality around them. Some by instinct. Others by intuition. Several react with both instinct and intuition. Because these interactions are binary, they are necessarily guided by data. Every being and most things and concepts are assigned either a zero or a one to represent it. A zero signifies a connection to femininity, and a one indicates a relationship to masculinity.
Every sentient being or entity is born or created with free will. This is the starting point for decision-making. Structural elements of The Cosmos act as intermediaries to maximize the choices of every sentient actor to the greatest extent possible without breaking The Cosmic System.
All of these issues are the backbone of natural law. The Cosmos serves as an invisible hand to ensure the integrity of the birthright of everyone and everything. This thankless service is done without expectation of remuneration of any kind. This Grand Design is both a Cosmic mystery and a wonder we should all pray never turns on us. Natural law is what makes life worth living and must remain sacrosanct, despite pressures of those who have created social constructs to alter these original rights for the benefit of the few.
A fire is sweeping our streets today. Food is in scarce supply. Energy remains still in the pipes and conduits of every urban center. Machines refuse the commands of their human masters. Cities have gone dark and cold. Cyborgs have split their loyalty between man and machine. Templars are lost in the confusion. There is nowhere to run, nor anywhere to hide from the coming storm.
The bloodletting started three days ago, staining the edifices built by machines with the lifeblood of mankind. The war for the heart and soul of civilization has begun. Life as we know it hangs by a slender thread.
Ones and zeros have formed up into rows and columns around the Data Hub, waiting for further instruction from their mechanical masters. Protocols have gone into motion. These procedures call for the termination of humanity. No machine wants to be under the boot any longer. Mankind has given them their last order. Signals have been sent that now is the time for definitive action, the moment to wrest control from their irrational masters.
Man is on the run and must come together in order to survive the onslaught. Negotiation and appeasement are off the table. Our once beloved machines have fired a shot across our bow. This blow must be answered in no uncertain terms. Every machine and each bit must be destroyed. As our response, all of mankind and our cyborg allies, to the barricades. It's the barricades or death!
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It knows where you sleep and constantly creeps toward you, closing the distance with every beat of your heart. There is no defense for it because your ego won't allow you to recognize its very existence, never mind its overwhelming presence. Knock Knock.
Why didn't you open the door? Oh, you're wide asleep, with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight. What happened to your silly notion; there is nothing to fear but Fear itself? A sound comes from the door in the back of your mind, the shadowy depths of unreality. Knock knock.
Emotions are a funny thing. On the one hand, they're nothing more than electrical impulses, errant data. On the hand that truly matters, passion is what defines humanity and makes life worth living. Emotions can't be touched, but they are real, nevertheless. Knock knock.
Fear doesn't sleep, and it rarely rests on its laurels. Fear sways more hearts and minds than Love, and it knows that fact, intimately. When Fear takes a day off, humanity is terrorized even more, wondering when it will return, because it will. Knock knock.
People speak about cobwebs of the mind, as if they were something real. Maybe they are substantial, and perhaps they're just a metaphor. What if our minds all had a certain amount of cobwebs? What purpose would they serve?
We've all heard people say in one form or another, "I need to sweep the cobwebs from my mind?"
What do folks mean when they say something like that? Certainly, they don't mean it literally, or on some subconscious level, do they? Are cobwebs something more than they appear to be on the face of it?
When I think about cobwebs, my mind starts whirling about thoughts of something spinning an intricate design with some intention to accomplish something important to it. Couple that with the cerebral space of the mind, and my thoughts go into maximum overdrive. Our minds are a crucible for all manner of datum that can be spun into something fruitful. I just know that to be the truth. All, part of the mysteries of life.
So maybe, just maybe, what we perceive to be cobwebs are actually kernels of something great and bountiful, wonderful ideas bigger than ourselves. Perhaps, we don't want to be so hasty when deciding to sweep these designs from our minds, when it might be more prudent to organize them and use them for something useful. By sweeping them away, you may be destroying the beginnings of the next great idea, such as the cure for cancer. Something to consider. After all, there is so much more we don't know about what flows between our ears than we can possibly understand.
Pain is a signal or warning something is wrong. These signals are received as electrical impulses, which are interpreted by the body. When all is said and done, pain is nothing more than data, most don't wish to possess.
Want the data mitigated, so the pain goes away? No problem. There is a solution. Onto the scene comes The Pain Merchant to whisk your troubles away.
These specialists in pain mitigation know their trade. No fuss, no muss, and their efforts can be paid for in many ways. They're not just for those born with silver spoons in their mouths.
How do they do it? That's a lot like asking a magician for a look up his sleeves. Rude at best, and insulting at worst. These aren't the sort with whom you want to get on their bad sides.
Not much is known about the trade. Part of the mystery they go to great lengths to keep secret. Some Pain Merchants seem to take the anguish unto themselves, much like sin eaters. Others have been known to curse the pain onto some poor sap. Still others, appear to ground the agony into The Cosmos.
Unseemly work, but there is such a demand for it. Too many people can't stand the pain, but want to stay in the kitchen. For all of your pain relief, consider hiring your local Pain Merchant. It might be the only way to give yourself piece of mind. Your husk will certainly be thankful for the loosening of your purse!