Saturday, April 13, 2002
a single subatomic reaction spawns a universe, a universe collapses into a single subatomic reaction as all possiblities are exhausted. a man at a computer types and types away, trying to warn the world-a world which has already decided he is the problem. he gets his message out just in time to watch the swat team kick down his door-and the world realizes his integrity in time for the funeral. his body decomposes, the bacteria die off, grass grows over the grave and, through photosynthesis, provides us with the air we will breathe fifty years from now. we will breathe and breathe until we remember this, at which point time will only be able to grind its gears and turn back. is it fair that i write this man’s story, the story which will become our story, with little thought towards the repercussions? you ask a similar question. fair or unfair, logical or not, so on and so forth-this is but one of an infinite matrix of possible realities, but it is our only reality.
