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I'm very sorry sir, your wayward son will have to travel in the hold on this flight

re: [short story] Bricks 

There was never anything but bricks arranged in such fine arrangements that their interactions created the quantum fields that defined what you ended up interpreting as the grand experiment of reality in your frame of existence. The utter meaninglessness of it all was the most comforting thought that hit you.

You would say everything turned into a brilliant white light, but that wouldn't begin to describe the color, texture, taste, sight, sound, thought, aether, and other senses you couldn't even begin to describe unfold as you started to experience All as it truly is.

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[short story] Bricks 

"So, let me get this", the booming authoritative voice spoke out: "You had the chance to do whatever you wanted, to create whatever kind of reality and local universe you could, and you...spent it all hydrating horses?"

It hit you like a ton of bricks, but each brick was made out of its own component ton of bricks, each made out of more bricks. There was no more reality. There was only bricks extending endlessly in spiral patterns of fractal beauty. You reached up a hand to gesture at the wild greater unknown, but you realized that it had been done 5 minutes from now.

You knew the truth. Everything was truly an illusion. It was all bricks. It was always bricks. It will always be bricks. It has always been bricks.

[short story] The Question 

I walked across the covered bridge, looking out into the winter wonderland. The bridge was notably solid and firm in the cold winter wind. After walking for a while there was a man at the end of the bridge. With a raspy voice, he spoke: "Welcome traveler, I am your guide to this place. Please, ask me absolutely anything." Curiously I spoke back:


"Absolutely anything about any topic."

"What is the meaning of this world and the people who live in it?"

The man chuckled to himself, smiled and looked out at the mountains we were close to. He started to sing:

"Row, row, row your boat
gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily;
life is but...a dream."


No seriously, I still have no idea why any of you put up with my shenanigans

[Every company I've ever worked for]

Me: Here is my professional opinion on this task and the issues I see in fulfilling it with what little specifications I have.

Management: Shut up and make it happen.

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