New Excerpt January 2016
Later that night Takayo lay awake, pondering the strangeness of her life at that precise moment. She wondered if this time and place had already been written into the universe. Written into the intricate reality of every molecule, of every cell and sinew of all things that ever were...ever are...and ever will be. Or maybe it was just one big illusion she pondered curiously - as a growing number of her fellow physicists were now beginning to postulate and deliberate over. Are we all fragments of some all powerful beings intricate dream network, or some self repairing, self performing ancient computer program that has already been played out after someone or something forgot to turn the damned thing off? Was this really the answer to everything? she further considered. If this is so, then has my life and everything that we are to achieve here been written into the program already? Then this would mean that everything I do, everything I think about including what I am...thinking now...is all simulated, and I am not me...but I am me...and these are...my...thoughts. If we are controlled...all programmed, then we have no free will, and there is no luck and no random chances or coincidences only programmable parameters or random glitches within the program.
Despite her illustriously brilliant mind the theorised concept of not being in control of her own destiny incited a riot of complex infinitesimal variables and connotations within her organically connecting neurons. Untouched dread lit up the finer highways of her mind and doggedly cascaded and intertwined its essence along the pathways and hedgerows of her inner city, seeking to rain chaos down upon its target situated at the perplexed cognitive centre at the metaphorical heart of the city. Chaos did reach its target and she struggled to maintain her grip on reality within the heavily strewn landscape of her own intricately strewn and chaotic consciousness.
Seeking to lessen or even diminish the haunting thoughts that besieged her head she began to peruse the personal data she had meticulously amassed within the last few weeks. Tattered reams of torn and crumpled paper lay strewn and scattered across her bed-sheets. Some bore grubby coffee stained calculations, schematics and endlessly derived scribbles that only she could ever begin to decipher. Scrutinising and decoding the crumpled data seemed to have the desired effect, as the highways of dread within her mind began to crumble and slowly disintegrate away into the soft green earth from whence they sprang. Images of Paco began to flicker and spark around her subconscious as she began to slip back to their initial flare up earlier. Then thinking better of it she smiled, brushed the crumpled remnants of paper onto the floor and flicked off the bedside lamp.
Tiredness - above all else, became the conqueror that swept all other thoughts aside within her head and made itself at home for the night.
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All characters contained in these tales are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.