"The man remembered having a cat once, if memories could be trusted as anything more than neuron configurations across trillions of synapses. Memories could not be touched with one's fingers. Could not be felt like the surf flowering over his gnarled toes could be felt. But then what were physical feelings but more electrical messages from the brain? Why believe in them either? Was there anything trustworthy in the Universe that one could hug and hold onto like a Hawaliusian wind staunch in the midst of a butterfly storm, apart form a Hawaliusian wind staunch?
"Bloody butterflies, thought the man. Once they'd figured to the wing fluttering a continent away thing, millions of mischievous lepidoptera had banded together and turned malicious.
"Surely that cannot be real, he thought. Butterfly storms?
... "If a thing was bound never to happen, then that thing would resolutely refuse not to happen as soon as possible.
"Butterfly storms. It was only a matter of time.
... "Was there anything to trust? anything to take comfort from?
Ah, yes, thought the old man. Tea. At the center of an uncertain and possibly illusory universe there would always be tea."
Engine Art & Funcion (Finally)
11 years ago
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