18 November 2012

We're All Just Stories in the End

"When you wake up, you'll have a mum and dad.  And you won't even remember me. Well, you'll remember me a little...I'll be a story in your head. That's okay. We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one eh? 'Cause it was, you know. It was the best."

Last post I made the absurd statement that we are re-writing history every time we make a choice. It may have sounded a bit sacrilegious, since it implies that we can defy predestination and God has no control over our futures.  I once nearly wasted an entire summer arguing with my friend about this sort of thing. She kept on saying "God chose us!" and I kept on saying "but we choose Him!!" and by the end I learned nothing other than that I should just stop thinking about it. But I say what I mean, and I'm going to explain exactly what I mean. I was going to title this post "Why predestination ought to make perfect sense depending on how you look at it,"  but I thought that would be too long.

In The Blazing Portal I said that we'll never cross the seams of the Universe simply because the Divine Program denies our access. So basically, the Universe is a great big video game: everything and everyone in it is virtual. So are we real people? Barely. We're just little writhing dreams, almost real but not quite. We're like Moaning Myrtle in Harry Potter, just real enough to have her feelings hurt by the very fact that she isn't real. We're like the Almost People in Doctor Who, plastic flesh walking around who stubbornly refuse to believe that they are not alive. We're like Pinocchio, a mere puppet in the hands of the toy-maker but just real enough to rebel against the toy-maker. We're like the Velveteen Rabbit--when our owner has finished tearing us apart out of pure love, we're made into real rabbits.



We're just real enough to wish we were real.



I draw a comic-strip series called Almonds, about a guy who's tired of living in the comic strip world. He keeps on trying to pop his speech bubbles and jump out of his frame. Here's the first one I drew some three years ago:




Of course, it's funny because I'm the one who gave him that desire in the first place. I could make him stop wanting, become an atheist, or turn him into a plunger any moment I pleased. But why would I ever do that? I made his personality. Every choice he makes is ultimately my choice, but I would never make a choice that wasn't in accordance with the personality I made for him. There have been moments when I drew him with a peculiar glint in his eye that made me seriously think he was staring back at me. I let him run wild in the little universe I made for him. Sometimes he even surprises me with some of the things I make him do.

So how does it work together? Who's really making the choice?


Who cares?


If we're only in a virtual reality, does it have to make sense? None of it's the real thing! Heck, in a video game, you get ten extra lives!!! Has anyone considered that doesn't make sense at all? Anything can happen in a virtual world, there's no real logic--it's only the crude shape of true reality. And one day, when we cross the quilt of space-time, we'll look back on all this and say to ourselves,
"Oh I see now that it was all just a story in the end."



TO BE CONTINUED ON PART 3!!!!: ELDILA: THE SINLESS ORGANISMS OF EVERLASTING LIGHT!!!
-The Minstrel Boy


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