an epilog for chapter 1
It’s 2:40am and I can’t fall asleep.
Everyone is trying to kill me.
It is not that I’m particularly afraid of death.
Death is not to be encountered but achieved.
I will achieve death. I’m certain of that.
But I’m still scared.
Do I have no faith in my death?
I don’t think so! I’m nothing but a vessel.
Perhaps this is not fear I’m experiencing but sadness. (Well they are ultimately the same things just in different shapes!)
Everyone is trying to kill me and that saddens me.
When I try to explain it to them they just don’t get it.
So the fear and now sadness is likely tribal in nature. Likely has to do with the social module. Probably a feature not a bug.
It has now occured to me this whole occurrence is a result of some error-prompt meta-conceptual crossings over abstraction layers triggering unintended physiological intercepts. Probably a feature not a bug!
Does spilling it out make me less scared? Indeed!
But I’m now sad.
Should I perform some type of natural transformation? e.g. unto determination?
“Everyone is trying to kill me but I will persist and achieve death!”
Such excitement is not in the pursuit for a proper slumber. I must constraint.
Turn it into a more astounding form of sadness instead.
Everyone is trying to kill me and I shall shed a tear for myself
and for everyone.
The moon was none-existent tonight.
I was fortunate.
They were often very mean to each other. But I was fortunate.
The base cases often have traces of love.
The refactoring turns out not to be as painful as I initially forecasted, that is if painfulness is unidimensional which was obvious the contrary is true, yet there the forecast was, preconceived, all wired up with false expectations and irrational avoidance and restlessness and fear.
But I am scared no more.
I am grateful to the mother of ten thousand things.
The mandate of heaven rests peacefully in the Turing-completeness of the past.
When a program is being tested,
it is too late to make design changes.
There are too much sorrow in this world.