‘You’re acting like a child.’
‘I never took any lessons.’
‘My, then you must be a natural.’
‘Thank you. I have to admit that I am having trouble remembering your name.’
‘That is because we erased it from your mind. We are not letting your reality survive.’
‘No? And how do you intend to prevent it surviving? Isn’t reality a pretty robust thing?’
‘Strangely not – at least the subtext isn’t; meaning the individual narratives that people build about themselves. Only the superstructure maintains and that is where we live – on the shiny surface of the hyper-real.
‘If you need proof then I could waltz you back to the point in time where Earth was flat, where this little ball of mud was at the centre of the universe – pre-Copernicus; sub-lunar, super-lunar, primum mobile … all that bullshit. An idea flips the whole gameshow on its head.’
‘I’m not sure I believe you.’
‘I’m sure you don’t have to. Anyway, the editors have been released from their blue pens and are, even at this moment, snipping away at the substratum bonds that bind this whole shebang together.’
‘The editors?’
‘A mix between the nanotech and the magickal; not that there’s much difference as far as you are going to be concerned. We operate on a quantum level – moving universes around at will; playing with time; and altering things on a more fundamental level. These idiot scientists who believe that physics are the be-all and end-all of everything are missing the whole point. They are failing to perceive the most important tool that they were gifted with for interfacing with this system – their perceptual apparatus. You would think that at least one of them would cotton on to the notion that an idea is a bomb to bring the old order down.’
‘You know that my name is Machiná?’
‘We know everything, child. You were the dormant catalyst we planted here as a safety measure. When you are brought into the world it’s time is limited. Don’t worry, this is not the end for you – you will be reinserted into the new narrative and you will once again play an important role. It is as it has always been.’
The cycle was almost complete. As they talked the whole of the reality Machiná had been part of had been spatio-temporally indexed and was now being decompiled. Soon the universe would be born again and Machiná would be allowed to watch – not that he would remember it when he awoke some time later.
Filed under: Prose, Short Story, fantasy, flash fiction, science fiction, update | Tagged: fiction, machina, paul grimsley, Prose, science fiction, skull cull, some time later, story, tale, update, writer, writing
