{ ... }

۞

  The equality of numbers could be found within those of similar values.  

  “How many angles in a square?” askèd the teacher.  

  The teacher was a sister, a nun who happened-to-be a prayer.  Of course, she wore a robe with a hood, the typical monastery garb.  The sister was holding the gawel.  The gawel was a big wooden cane.  The sister bore the gawel in front of those at school.  She knockèd it against the floor.  

  Knock.  

  Knock.  

  {knock}  

  “One,” replièd Tulpa, trying to outsmart her.  

  “And how many angles in a oblong?” askèd the teacher.  

  The teacher again addressèd the class with a knock of the gawel.  

  {knock, knock}  

  “Two,” counterèd Katherine.  

  Of course they were talking about the differences between equality.  Inequality discriminating fairly.  

  “And the triangle?” quizzèd the teacher.  

  By the end of the gawel, knocking on the floor,  

  the sister was trying to hint to the wrong answer …  

  {knock}  

  “One,” offered Virginie, “if it's equilateral …  

  {knock, knock}  

  … and five in a perfect circle.”  

  “Always ending with e towards a,” addèd the teacher.  

  “Egalitaire?” posèd Tulpa.  

  {the question}  

  “Foursquare,” replièd Katherine.  

  “And one can also be … « la ligne » … ” said Virginie  

  {concludingly}  

  « Fin. »  

  Tulpa wrote it all down in her exercise book.  

IT READ:  

1=5, perfect circle  

a - b, b - c, c - d, d - e, e - a  

1=4, foursquare.  

1=3, equality.  

4=2, oblong.  

0=3 ?  String Theory!  The hypothesis of the hypotenuse … I muse.  

  The bells began to ring as she closèd her exercise book.  

  °Ablanathanalba° she musèd no longer.  

۝

{ ... }

۞

  “It's like they're resurrecting Thule.”  

  It gets dangerous to foster beliefs.  

  “As long as we're facing south, it doesn't matter,” said solidarity, with the luck of the Tens.  

  {in a pair of boots}  

  It was just the look of the Tens.  

  {in a pair of boots}  

  “Ain't none among the enemy,” said courage.  

  “Only a few more days of the Tens until they're all locked up anyway,” said one who was far from being a revolutionary.  “Draw on the elements when you get cold.”  

  {passing a lit smoke}  

  The single last lit smoke was passèd from hand to hand, and then went out.  

  A flare was shot from the horizon and a plume of luminous smoke trailèd behind it.  And then it went out.  The soldiers and 'cians in their respective barricade fortifications fell silent.  A silence fell over the entire city.  And then there was a shout.  

۝

{ ... }

۞

  Mister William Quincy had had to have words with the autonomous zoners.  

  “One has to work hard for money and success,” said Mister William Quincy.  “Why it is good to conserve: it's a simple principle.  That's why I vote centre-right.  It's more responsible.  The same is true for a socialist government, in the binary sense.  If we are to create wealth for welfare then the government has to promote excessive consumption.  How does one feel after excessive consumption?  Sick, yet wanting more.  Richie Hawtin, minimal techno DJ, uses a sample in one of his tunes,” Quincy went on.  “It goes something along the lines of I hope you suffer, so that the thirst to consume lessens.”  

  Increpitus vulgi.  The curse of the common people.  Fags-and-booze, the working class way.  Hand-to-mouth existence.  Palliatives for the last ten years of the socialist government war.  

  “We had to,”  

  “I was there too,”  

  “Are you a drug addict, or what, you?”  

  °They let us run amok – amok all over make-up – they let us run amok at home, and have whatever we wanted so long as we didn't protest.  We were a temporary autonomous zone, an underground clique with subterranean stereo high-fidelity chic.°  

  “The only good system is a sound system.”  

  “Yeah, but there's no Vordhosbn.”  

۝

{ ... }

۞

  Down in South Ossetia.  Oh, Georgia.  A hardcase to crack.  He keeps his briefcase on him at-all-times.  As long as the Home Office know about it.  It is it.  Call it what you want.  End game.  The terrorist has an arm.  Scatter-bomb.  Cluster-fuck.  There was nothing the agency could do.  One got through and the company did not find out who got it through.  Too many code-names, too many callsigns, too many personalities.  The agents of agencies had renderèd themselves non-entities.  

  Lamed told the others in the company that whoever had got that last Logris had made a copy of the dirty words on the USB storage facility and was moving it rapidly.  The agents called them dirty words in the company.  Dirty intelligence, dirty hands.  The agents thought that they had the goods on most of them.  They left the rest of them to the rest of them.  

  “Down with the rest of them, up with the best of them,” toastèd Lamed.  

  “Bottoms up, skirts down,” jokèd Sarai.  

  The end was in sight.  USA.  USB.  University of South Carolina.  USC.  University of South Dakota.  USD.  USE.  Recurringly.  

  {terrorists move quickly}  

  Kaiaphas had instructèd all the major airports in the United States of America, or the tribe of Dan as he callèd them colloquially, to conduct a series of searches of everyone's luggage for USB sticks.  The same went for Israel, Benjamin and Yehoudah.  

۝

{ ... }

۞

  The pure analysis of phenomenal appearances cannot decide between divergent orientations of thought.  The noumenon of the One, the phenomenon of the Other.  

  Ego alterum.  

  Qua intus sunt vos, Ego.  

  Non diffiteor mei.  

  Ego ipse, ipsa mei.  

  Sed multa.  

  °The Other, ha’akheyr° Psi-Qolog musèd.  °The locus of the Other emits a message; a signifying form that depends on the effect of alienated needs which deviate from the signifier.  Satisfaction of needs situate themselves within the recognition of the Other.  The Other affects desire; symbols, language, and places represent the Other°  

  Psi-Qolog lookèd into the mind’s eye of Maeve.  He cast a vacant stare into the vast black hole at the centre of the triangle.  The one she was playing her face through.  

  {ding}  

  Psi-Qolog felt nostalgic and his memories became static.  He rememberèd that time when Maeve had been struggling to count, the time she had made it to the number seven for the very first time.  It was at that time that she had made it to age seven for the very first time.  Something else rather significant had taken place that day.  

  Maeve had abandonèd her play compositions, ceasèd to identify with the characters as real, active facets of her personality and psyche and simply pointèd to the mirror in Psi-Qolog’s office and said “me” thereby recognizing herself.  

  Psi-Qolog rememberèd entering Maeve’s triangle as the symbolic father in the eponymous interplay with the Other; his major discoveries were made later.  

  Psi-Qolog clearly saw in his imaginations from that crucial day, how he, in a moment of delightful play, took Maeve’s hands into his own and said: “Aniy ha’akheyr, ha’akheyr aniy.”  It was a Hebrew phrase, meaning, I am the Other, the Other am I.  If I am a father, then I am the Other.  If I am a woman, then I am the Other.  Except there is no “am” in Hebrew grammatology.  Much like Quincy and his Anontology.  There is no is in Hebrew grammatolgy.  Again like Quincy and his prophecy.  There is no is.  It just happens.  

  Maeve and Psi-Qolog found unity in the Other, in each other, separatèd as individuals.  The two of them, both of their hands were embracèd as those words were spoken.  

  Then, Psi-Qolog gesturèd to Maeve by pointing to her, insinuating that she do the same, and as both of them had acknowledgèd this, a phenomenon occurrèd: phenomanonymous.  Without a cue, they both exclaimèd, as one: “ ‘‘ You! ’’ ”  

  °If I am the Other, then you are the identifier; the sign and the signifier.  The truth is I am a liar° thought the author of Maeve's character, as did the meta-reader of Maeve's character.  

  Finally, Psi-Qolog pickèd up Maeve and placèd her down to sit in front of the mirror.  Psi-Qolog then withdrew to resume his position as the objective Other.  Maeve ecstatically pointèd to her reflection in the mirror and exclaimèd: “Me!” singularly, without duality, identifying identity.  

  “In a regressive filiarchy, the instability of its genus loci produces echolalia.  The sound of the children's voices ran around, ran around the playground.  Regression to a premirror stage in which the individual forms a fusional dyad with what is no longer perceived as an alterity, as an Other.”  

  Psi-Qolog was speaking to Anon., confidentially.  He was using Maeve as an example as Anon. saw their interplay with the mirror.  

  “The unconscious is the discourse of the Other,” said Psi-Qolog, “the beyond in which the recognition of desire is bound up with the desire of recognition.”  

  The Other: the object of desire.  

  Sarai was not only an object of Anon.'s desire, at the end of each and every Ayah; Sarai was the image– « une visage sans visage » – that structurèd Anon.'s identity.  Sarai's image was in Anon.'s own.  

۝

{ ... }

۞

  I was wiring a bomb.  

  {psychosis}  

  Someone was taking another bomb.  

  {solipsis}  

  {classifièd}  

  I met her at a party later on.  

  {*****}  

  {classifièd}  

  I thought that ***** was from the wrong Party.  

  Great-looking.  Looking, naughty.  

  “Party?” said *****.  

  “Line?” replièd a minister.  

  {blurring the lines}  

  “I'll take a line for the Prime Minister,” said a heroine.  

  “In Bogota, Colombia?” replièd a translator.  

  “¿Habla? They'll need a speech-writer,” said the minister.  

  “I'd work for Ahmadinejad's son,” said a fighter.  

  “If you're picking a fight with them, you're picking a fight with us,” said a blighter.  

  One could have said, a mere year earlier, that the future of the State was dire.  When money goes under, people go over-the-top.  Institutions crumblèd and people fled the very next day.  People fled into the arms of gangs.  You don't have to be a violent person to get protection from a violent gang.  

  It was as if overnight the normal and sensible society had fled away.  Since a hacker working for a newly formed sociocratic think-tank introducèd the Adword æther gate phage control as a anti-meme panacea to the Internet the average user should have known that something was up.  Google began to eat itself.  The Self-Itself, the users callèd it.  Call it what you want.  When everything in a society depends on the Ideosphere in its entirety what do you think happens when it ceases to exist?  

۝

{ ... }

۞

  “Fascinating story, Shabbetai Tzvi.  He took Qabalah too literally,” said Psi-Qolog.  

  The king conspirator and the false messiah stood before the Beyt Din.  

  “What are your motivations for wanting to join the tribes of Israel?” askèd Kaiaphas.  

  “My Midrashiy?” replièd Psi-Qolog, “bears implications for the future of the Jewish people.”  

  “What kind of teaching is it?” said Mister Cohen.  

  Mister Cohen, Gid, was all over the shop because of the medication he was self-administering.  Continuing, self-administering.  

  “A King is no kind of thing,” said Psi-Qolog.  “Gentlemen, we know that Malach is present wherever we invoke it.”  

  “Nu, how very now that we know who malachah is and that she is present wherever we invoke her,” replièd Gid.  

  There was a pause for a second whilst Psi-Qolog clearèd his throat.  He continuèd.  

  “The work of my predecessor, Immanuel Velikovsky, clearly shows that the people Israel belong together, the north and the south to be united, and rule a nation-state as successfully as Ha'Mashiac Daviyd.  Keeping two houses united as the kingdom.  This fair Isle, old Albion, represents the United Kingdom.  There's a reason why the British Army sing Jerusalem as their marching anthem.  They know what they're leaving behind.  William Blake, too, the great poet and visionary mystic, affirms to us through his words that this is the Israel where Ma'shiach resides.”  

  ° ° ° Nu? ° ° ° they wonderèd.  

  {collectively}  

  “Nu?  How now,” wonderèd Kaiaphas.  

  {his head coverèd}  

  “The Final Solution to the Jewish Question is a fundamental numerological Christian problem.  Absolutely all of them,” said Psi-Qolog.  “The United States of America represent a Danian tribal consecration supporting the tribes of Benjamin and Yehoudah.  I don't need to humour you gentlemen about the lobby for the reconstruction of the Third Temple, do I?”  

  “We're a Reform congregation.  We don't believe in it,” said Mister Cohen.  

  {uncovering his head}  

  “Our understanding of a Hebrew transmission accords to all classes of tribe definition,” replièd Psi-Qolog.  “History has misled us.  History has scattered us.  Persecution has displaced us but most of all the diaspora has gathered us in strategic locations around the world.  The red, the white, the blue, between me and you, nu nu, stand for the lost tribes' Two House theology.  Surely, it is the conclusion of an entire history.  The beginning of an end.  B'reyshiyt ha'sof hayah m'dabeyr.  In a manner of speaking.  We have to invest in this idea.  We have to rewrite the history of the Israelites.”  

  Kaiaphas seemed to agree.  Kaiaphas thought about Shabbetai Tzvi.  

  “Fascinating story, Shabbetai Tzvi.  He took it upon himself personally,” he said.  

  “Fascinating story, Shabbetai Tzvi,” replièd Psi-Qolog.  “He went on Hajj for the dowry.”  

  The small Quorum burst into laughter.  

  ° ° ° But we do agree, he was the messiah ° ° ° again they did wonder.  

  The small messianic meeting ended, without any hysteria.  

۝