We flew in terror from the horror of the Omega Point, hurtling ever deeper into the Realm of Appearances, which is the Realm of Multicoloured Baubles, which some also call the Plastic Doll World. Like comets we flew, streaking across the night sky. Only it wasn’t really ‘we’ it was just ‘me’ – I had no companions in that headlong flight, I invented them to make it seem that I wasn’t the only one this ever happened to. Which it was. And I wasn’t like a comet in the night sky either – it wasn’t like that at all. It was much less dramatic than that, much less inspirational. It was more like someone farting dismally in an oak barrel.
I flew heedlessly from the unbridled terror of the Omega Point Experience – I cared not where I went just so long as it was as far away as possible from the terror that I was trying to put behind me. It’s a funny thing – and I don’t know how many people actually get this – but when you’re in the Realm of Fleeing then fleeing is all there is. If a thought isn’t about fleeing then it isn’t allowed. Only thoughts that are on the topic of fleeing are permitted – ideas of escaping and ideas of not escaping, and that sort of thing. Hopeful ideas and despairing ideas. All that kind of stuff. Fleeing-type of stuff, basically.
I flew in terror from the Omega Point Experience and that’s pretty much the story every time with me I’m afraid. A bit on the repetitive side, you could say. It’s all a wee bit predictable – a well-worn route. People know what my game is at this stage, ‘Hey buddy,’ they say, ‘you’re flying from the OP experience, right?’ They look pleased because they know what I’m doing, because they’ve worked me out. They’ve got my number and so I’m nothing, I’m just another ornament on the mantlepiece, just another china duck on the wall, flying in terror but frozen still, pinned down in space and time. I wasn’t flying at all in other words, I was just stuck.
The Realm of Appearances lay scattered all around me in all its garish crudity. It is like a cheap plastic toy – you’ll get five minutes of fun out of it at best, and then you’ll have to throw it away. You’ll have to discard it. It’s the Trash World you see, and we all know what that means. In the Garbage World only worshipping garbage is allowed. We worship it and worship it and as we worship it the veneer ever so slowly wears off and what lies underneath is tediously revealed as the pestilential filth of ‘you know who’. Then we move on, driven by the need to find some more filth to worship. That’s what it’s like in the Garbage World – we spend all our time trying to make out that the Garbage World isn’t made up of pure Satanic Effluence. We’re trying to make a point here, a very important point. We’re working hard at it.
That’s what it’s like when you flee from the OP, obviously enough. It could hardly be otherwise. Satan provide us with the Trash World, the Filth World, the Nonsense World and then he puts an enchantment on us so we don’t have to see it for what it is. He gives us special glasses to wear that we mustn’t ever take off. He gives us the microchip that is in our brain. Give us this day our daily microchip, we pray. It’s the only deal in town so you might as well take it. Everyone else does, after all. There isn’t a sinner in town who hasn’t signed on the dotted line. We’ve taken the King’s penny you see so that’s it for us. We’ve had it, basically. We’ve taken the King’s penny and things can only get worse after that.
