U wury 2 much, Ergates sez. Im a hily racehorseful ant & i wood find u.
(I doan say nuffink in return bcoz Mr Zoliparias tokkin & it wood b inpolite.) Nway thi point is kwite frangly Id rather Ergates woz stil in my pokit but she sez she wishis 2 take thi air & bsides she likes thi vew.
… simbil not ov potency or invulnrability but ov a kind ov sultifing inpotenz & xtreem vulnrabiliti, Mr Zoliparia is sayin, bangin on about thi cassil agen as he is offin want 2 do.
We live in a folli, Bascule, nevir forget dat, he tellz me & I nod & sip ma t & wotch Ergates eat her bred.
Iss no coinsidins di ainshints usd 2 refer 2 di kwick & di ded, he sez, swalowin sum more wine & burrowin in2 his cote (iss a bit coald out here). 2 liv is 2 moov, he sez. Mobiliti is all. Tings like diss (he waves his han aroun) r a kind ov admishin ov dfeet; Y, de dam tings litil betir than a hospis!
Wots a hospis? I ask, not recognizin thi wurd & not wantin 2 yous inplants (& wantin Mr Zoliparia 2 no this, it has 2 b admittid).
Bascule, u mite as wel uze di fasilitys yoov been given, Mr Zoliparia sez.
O yes, I sez. I forgot. I made a show ov closin my Is. Haven dun this 4 a while, I sed. Lessee; ah yes, hospis… place whare you go 2 di, basikly.
Yes, Mr Zoliparia sed, lookin annoid. Now uve made me go & forget; Ive loss de flo.
U woz sayin thi cassil woz like a hospis.
I remember dat, he sez.
Well am veri sori, I sez.
No mattir. Di burdin ov mi argumint, Mr Zoliparia sez, is dat 2 set 1self up like dis in such a defeetinly vast & intimidaytinly inhumin structyir is meerly 2 anounce di cumin 2 rest ov 1s progress, & witout dat we r lost.
(Mr Zoliparia is big on progress tho from what I can gathir iss a pretty old fashined idea these daze.)
So ther definitly wernt never no jiants then? I sez.
Bascule, Mr Zoliparia sez, cyan, wot is dis obseshin wit thi idea ov jiantz? He fillz his glas wif more wine; it steamz in thi cold air. I wotch Ergates 4 a bit while he duz this, zoomin in 2 look @ her face; I can c hir Is & feelers & wotch her mouth-parts needin & tayrin @ thi gummy-lookin bred. Pull back as Mr Zoliparia sets thi wine jug bak down on thi tabil.
Thi ting is, he sez, & size agen, der wer 1nce jiants. Not jiantz in di sens dat dey wer fizikly bigir dan us, but bigir in der powrs & abilitys & ambishins; bigir dan us in der moral curidge. Dey made dis playce, dey bilt it from rock & materielz. Weave loss di art ov makin & workin. Dey bilt it 4 a purpis in a sens, but itz ludicrisly over-desined 4 itz suposid funcshin. Dey bilt it di way dey did 4 fun. Juss bcoz it amyoused dem 2 do so. But dave moovd on, & we r all dats left & now di plaice teems wit life but den so duz a magoti corps; der is much moovmint but no qwicknis in uz; dass all gon.
Wot about thi fass-towr? I sez. That soundz pretti qwikish 2 me.
O Bascule, he sez & lukes up @ thi ski. Fass as in hold-fass or stuck-fass. How meny more times muss I tell u?
O yes, I sez. So all theez qwick tipes leff 4 thi starz did they Mr Zoliparia?
Yes dey did, he sez, & y shoodint dey? But wot puzzils me is y dey shood abandon uz so compleetly, & dat y we shood ½ given up di abiliti evin 2 keep in tutch wit dem.
Int that in nun ov yoor books & stuff, Mr Zoliparia? I asks him. Int that noware?
Duzent seme 2 b, Bascule, he sez; duzent seme 2 b. Sum ov uz ½ bean lookin 4 di ansers 2 dose qwestions 4 longir dan weave been abil 2 record, & we seem 2 b no closir now dan wen we startid. Weave lookt in books & films & files & feeshes & discs & chips & byos & hollers & fomes & cores & evry form ov storidge noan 2 humaniti. He drinx his wine. & iss oll from b4, Bascule, he sez, soundin sad. Oll from b4. Ders nuttin from di time we want 2 no about. He shrugz. Nuttin.
I dont no wot 2 say when Mr Zoliparia sounds all sad & sorri like this. Peepil like him ½ been tryin 2 wurk this sort ov fing out 4 jenerashins, sum thru thi old stuf like books & so on & otherz by usin thi kript, whare supposidly everithin iz but u jus cant find it. Or if u find it u cant get bak wif it.
I 1nce sed 2 Mr Zoliparia it soundid a bit like lookin 4 a needil in a haysack & he sed Moar like lukin 4 a partikulir wattir molicule in a oashin & evin thats probly unnerestimatin thi task by sevril ordirs ov magnetude.
Ive thot about bein thi 1 2 dive inter thi kript propir — reely deeply — & bring bak thi seekrets Mr Zoliparia wants, but apart from thi fact that meens serius inplant work & I wan 2 sho Mr Zoliparia I only yous mi inplants 4 tellin & nuffink else as a rule, iss also been attemptid & proovd pointliss.
Iss kaos in thare, u c.
Thi kript (or kriptosfear or data corpis — iss ol thi saim fing) iss where everfing reeli happins heer, & thi deeper u go thi less likeli u r 2 com out; iss like iss a oashin & conshisnis is solubil, like divin in2 asid, beyawnd a certin depf. It scarz u 4 life if u go 2 deep, u cum bak as sumfink shrivild & dyin if u go deeper stil, & u juss doan cum bak @ ol if u go reely reely deep; u juss disintigrate toatily as a distink personaliti & thass that.
Ov coarse u persinally r still alive & kikin, back in fizzikil reality & nun thi wurse 4 ware (usuly; unles u ½ a bad trip like they say & get feedbacks & deedbacks & flashbacks & flashforwids & nitemares & daymares & troma & stuf), but thi kript-copy u sent in thare, thass juss gon 4evir u can kiss its ass by-by, & thass factule.
Ergates is playin wif her food; sheez moldin thi bredy-bits in2 funny shapes wif her mouf-parts & front legz & not botherin 2 eat it @ oil no moar. Rite now sheez makin a tiny bust ov Mr Zoliparia & I wundir if he can c her doin that or if heez so ded agenst inplants & inproovments in jeneril that he haz ordniry old-tipe Is & cant zoom in on details like I can.
Do u think iss a gude likeniss, Bascule? she asks me.
Mr Zoliparia is lukin thotful & starin in2 space, or in2 thi atmisfear nway; buncha birdz circlin way in thi distinz over a bartizan — maybi heez lookin @ them.
Nway I dcide 2 risk whisprn 2 Ergates: Ver gude. Now u wan get bak in yoor box?
Wassat Bascule? Mr Zoliparia sez.
Nuffink, Mr Zoliparia, I sez. I woz juss cleerin my frote.
No u werint; u sed sumtin about gettin bak in yoor box.
Did I? I sez, stollin.
U werint referin 2 me I truss, he sez, frownin.
O abslootly not Mr Zoliparia, I tell him. I woz actuli adressin Ergates heer, I sez, dcidin 2 make a clean brest ov it. I luke @ hir sternli & wag mi fingir @ hir & say Get bak in yoor box now, u notty ant. Sori about this, Mr Zoliparia, I tel him, while Ergates qwikly changes thi bust sheez wurkin on 2 1 ov me with a enormis nose.
Duz she evir tok bak? Mr Zoliparia asks, smilin.
O yes, I sez. Itz qwite a talkativ litle crittir actule. & veri inteligent.
Duz it reely tok tho, Bascule?
Ov coarse, Mr Zoliparia; iss not a figmint ov my majination or a invisibil frend type ov fing, onist. I had a invisibil frend but he lef when Ergates caim on thi seen last week, I tel him, feelin a bit embrasd now & probly blushin.
Mr Zoliparia laffs. Whare did u get yoor litl pal? he askz.
She crold out thi woodwurk, I sez, & he laffs agen & Im evin moar embrasd & gettin qwite swety now. That dam ant! makin a full ov me & makin my face all big & bloted in that bust shees workin on now & still not goin bak in hir box Ither.