I was with a great crowd in an arena or concert hall. They had their hands in the air, enjoying themselves. On top of the crowd, there was a faint, bluish light. It slowly turned red and thickened into a fog. It felt heavy and dangerous. Something in its shape and the way it moved… Continue reading Fifty-Eight
- "Why do I have to witness all this?" - I asked her. - "There are thousands of pasts, and thousands of futures. They all have to meet at one point, in one single present, even if only for a moment, to become conscious. My bees are all such junctures, such meeting points... I'm sorry, my little bee, I am so sorry that it hurts." - "But what is consciousness? And why does it matter?"