Three Generations of Imbeciles

Chapter Twenty-One

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She matters.

Our self-consciousnesses are quivering illusory protrusions from some more fundamental source being sourced unfundamentally. Right? Check? Roger that, Nigel? Please confirm. Please confirm. Please.

Why you gotta teller?

Separations and divisions are not real. So neither is pain or fear. Or at least our conceptions of them are fatally blinkered. Our human-type consciousness is not so special as we think. Speck of something grander. Expander.

It's all that matters to me now. She’s gotta know. And she'll discover anyway. What’s my job?

Daddyman.


She matters.

Our self-consciousnesses are quivering illusory protrusions from some more fundamental source being sourced unfundamentally. Right? Check? Roger that, Nigel? Please confirm. Please confirm. Please.

Why you gotta teller?

Separations and divisions are not real. So neither is pain or fear. Or at least our conceptions of them are fatally blinkered. Our human-type consciousness is not so special as we think. Speck of something grander. Expander.

It's all that matters to me now. She’s gotta know. And she'll discover anyway. What’s my job?

Daddyman.