A.J. is an agent like me, but for whom or for what no one has ever been able to discover. It is rumored that he represents a trust of giant insects from another galaxy…I believe he is on the Factualist side (which I also represent); of course he could be a Liquefaction Agent (the Liquefaction program involves the eventual merging of everyone into One Man by a process of protoplasmic absorption). You can never be sure of anyone in the industry.
IN boundless space countless shining spheres, about each of which, and illuminated by its light, there revolve a dozen or so of smaller ones, hot at the core and covered with a hard, cold crust, upon whose surface there have been generated from a mouldy film beings which live and know this is what presents itself to us in experience as the truth, the real, the world.
Nothingness. He says when he tries to pray he gets this like image in his mind’s eye of the brainwaves or whatever of his prayers going out and out, with nothing to stop them, going, going, radiating out into like space and outliving him and still going and never hitting Anything out there, much less Something with an ear. Much much less Something with an ear that could possibly give a rat’s ass.
-I suppose next you’ll want to know
what life’s all about, eh?
-Please, let’s not be ironical.
-When a man is happy,
the meaning of life and other themes of eternity
rarely interest him. These questions should be asked
at the end of one’s life.
-We don’t know when our life will end,
that’s why we’re in a hurry.
-The happiest people are those who never bother asking
those cursed questions.
…there’s an infinite number of monkeys outside who want to talk to us about this script for Hamlet they’ve worked out.
That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not a redemption, who saves nothing, fulfills no purpose–a god who simply is.