So the title should say…
Upon further inspection, it was all as expected, there were no hidden titles within the pages of the book, no hidden letters, no hidden typos. Not a clue as to the why, or why not, he began wondering, perhaps even imagining (if such a word could be used in the new world) what would the book be…no, what would the book feel like had it had a cryptic title. Closed the book, closed his mind.
He went outside (of his own boundaries) and looked upon the window, hadn’t been here for a long time. You could almost smell the odour nostalgia brings upon people, if smells were allowed, I mean, true enough to be had.
Spent the rest of the afternoon here. Perhaps even thinking.
Rest of the day was sleep.
Woke up, did the usual stuff, went to work, heard the usual talk about what was true. Got initially interested -heavily maybe?. Friends usually talked about the new “cold fusion” theory, he heard and analyzed bits and pieces of each reference to Schrödinger’s cat, had no hard time laughing, as usual, as instructed by the media.
Then he got fed up, something was truly, badly, painfully wrong. He mumbled words about discrepancies and singularity, all of them which fell upon deaf ears and loud mouths. His friends heard him talk, for sharp and cunning were they taught to be, sharp and cunning enough to use canned references to nothingness and fossilized arguments about dualism. As the chore -for it had to had to other name, Evan thought- progressed into populism, and other remains of the lost battle, he decided -perhaps as a first-timer- that he had to leave the main room.
And returned to the book.
Evan opened his eyes, and pure light entered his eyes. A light that could match…no, surpass the one provided by the system. The raw light went as far as burning and carving new sight into the old cookie-cut perspective. He was then at sea, the odd sensation of fake -or real?- wind passing by hypnotized his newfound abilities to no end
On his right hand, an untitled book was being held. As the lefty he was, he took his pen -the one he has always had nearby- and in smooth, harmonic, rhythmic motions labeled the only thing he could think of.
I closed his book.
I looked around me, and found out the same variables, limits of the mind, so-called ambition being actually tradition. A contradiction being cited as the best rendition. I peeled off the sticker -was there one in the first place?- that covered Evan’s book.
I was then at sea, alone, my eyes being burnt.
My vocabulary searched desperately for words to no avail. being the youngster I couldn’t bear the loneliness, the happiness…my life.
In what rotten world do you live?
A firey wind passed me by, my eyes were lying about. I felt the wind, my right hand touching the sun, the left hand, holding the only guide, proof, feeling I truly needed:
The remainder of how he did it, of how they did it. The how-to avoid and means to correct.
The Death of a Thousand Galleys
by Dimwitted Evan
Chapter I – The 3 laws of motion
1. The human being is inherently lonely, do not try to think of this entity as instinct-independent, for it will undeniable search for a reason, a place to hide. As every x must find it’s F. Thus, making the human being in an entity most easily determined by F(x), where F is no art or science, but sheer-raw contradictory evidence of nothingness provided by influence.
2. The human being is inherently inconsistent. Refrain from depicting it as the chaotic, beautiful result of evolution. Human beings abide by the rules of a system that protects their only possession (Law 1). Any negative input shall be evaluated as unnecessary and put aside. F(x) accepts no values outside of its own domain, exceptions value these as zero (0).
3. The human being is inherently bendable, forcible, gullible. F(x) can be broken.
Chapter II – Function breaking
by Hot-headed Albin
Whenever a system F(x) has N elements in Z domain, a function can be most simply broken by conjugating F(y). Where F(y) is another system such that:
F(F(x))
Modifies all, if not some, laws of motion.
Chapter 3 -Definition of F(y)
by
Someone else closed my book.
My story ended there.
So I stood, in front of new art, science and rhythm. The rest of them, could as well go to hell, maybe then, could they save their galleys from another destiny.
Foreword
from all the past and future Authors
Go break a function.
