(1) Its mind was in direct touch with mine and it explained how it comes into existence and out of what. The macrometasomakosmos.
(2) I saw it externally as Valis.
(3) I was inside it, and saw its inner information-metabolism, what I call “the second signal.”
Because the essence of its identity—its einai—is its structure, we can’t see it; all its constituents are ordinary objects. Also its einai is noein; they are one.
Supra (3) confirms that (1) and (2) are identical.
The fact that the macrometasomakosmos is right here, made up of ordinary objects structured into a cohesive unity, changes my conception of it; I must now reappraise everything I’ve thought during the past six and a half years. I’ve missed the point all this time; I knew Valis was here, but I could not figure out where the macrometasomakosmos was—since I didn’t realize that they—and what I call the “second signal”—are the same. It is a floating mind that turns objects into information within a brain, a brain that processes objects and their causal connections as information; it is especially active in our own communications media utilizing a set-ground system. I must admit that I don’t really understand this; why can’t we pick up, say, its meta-morphemes? Well, because we can’t perform feature-extraction with it. It blends perfectly. Am I to assume that I’m the only human aware of it? Hardly. Where I differ is that (I’d guess) I’ve struggled so hard to explicate what happened to me . . . no, that isn’t it. Could it be here just recently? No; that isn’t it either. It’s not in time and space; it’s exploded morphologically . . . or it utilizes a retrograde time axis, what I call negentropic time. I don’t know. It’s impossible that no one else has seen it, but you can’t see it unless it incorporates you. Maybe I’m the only one stupid enough to talk about it.
[1:262]* November 17, 1980
God manifested himself to me as the infinite void; but it was not the abyss; it was the vault of heaven, with blue sky and wisps of white clouds. He was not some foreign God but the God of my fathers. He was loving and kind and he had personality. He said, “You suffer a little now in life; it is little compared with the great joys, the bliss that awaits you. Do you think I in my theodicy would allow you to suffer greatly in proportion to your reward?” He made me aware, then, of the bliss that would come; it was infinite and sweet. He said, “I am the infinite. I will show you. Where I am, infinity is; where infinity is, there I am. Construct lines of reasoning by which to understand your experience in 1974. I will enter the field against their shifting nature. You think they are logical but they are not; they are infinitely creative.”
I thought a thought and then an infinite regression of theses and countertheses came into being. God said, “Here I am; here is infinity.” I thought another explanation; again an infinite series of thoughts split off in dialectical antithetical interaction. God said, “Here is infinity; here I am.” I thought, then, an infinite number of explanations, in succession, that explained 2-3-74; each single one of them yielded up an infinite progression of flip-flops, of thesis and antithesis, forever. Each time, God said, “Here is infinity. Here, then, I am.” I tried for an infinite number of times; each time an infinite regress was set off and each time God said, “Infinity. Hence I am here.” Then he said, “Every thought leads to infinity, does it not? Find one that doesn’t.” I tried forever. All led to an infinitude of regress, of the dialectic, of thesis, antithesis and new synthesis. Each time, God said, “Here is infinity; here am I. Try again.” I tried forever. Always it ended with God saying, “Infinity and myself; I am here.” I saw, then, a Hebrew letter with many shafts, and all the shafts led to a common outlet; that outlet or conclusion was infinity. God said, “That is myself. I am infinity. Where infinity is, there am I; where I am, there is infinity. All roads—all explanations for 2-3-74—lead to an infinity of Yes-No, This or That, On-Off, OneZero, Yin-Yang, the dialectic, infinity upon infinity; an infinity of infinities. I am everywhere and all roads lead to me; omniae viae ad Deum ducent. Try again. Think of another possible explanation for 2-3-74.” I did; it led to an infinity of regress, of thesis and antithesis and new synthesis. “This is not logic,” God said. “Do not think in terms of absolute theories; think instead in terms of probabilities. Watch where the piles heap up, of the same theory essentially repeating itself. Count the number of punch cards in each pile. Which pile is highest? You can never know for sure what 2-3-74 was. What, then, is statistically most probable? Which is to say, which pile is highest? Here is your clue: every theory leads to an infinity (of regression, of thesis and antithesis and new synthesis). What, then, is the probability that I am the cause of 2-3-74, since, where infinity is, there I am? You doubt; you are the doubt as in:
They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly I am the wings.
I am the doubter and the doubt.
“You are not the doubter; you are the doubt itself. So do not try to know; you cannot know. Guess on the basis of the highest pile of computer punch cards. There is an infinite stack in the heap marked INFINITY, and I have equated infinity with me. What, then, is the chance that it is me? You cannot be positive; you will doubt. But what is your guess?”
I said, “Probably it is you, since there is an infinity of infinities forming before me.”
“There is the answer, the only one you will ever have,” God said.
“You could be pretending to be God,” I said, “and actually be Satan.” Another infinitude of thesis and antithesis and new synthesis, the infinite regress, was set off.
God said, “Infinity.”
I said, “You could be testing out a logic system in a giant computer and I am—” Again an infinite regress.
“Infinity,” God said.
“Will it always be infinite?” I said. “An infinity?”
“Try further,” God said.
“I doubt if you exist,” I said. And the infinite regress instantly flew into motion once more. “Infinity,” God said. The pile of computer punch cards grew; it was by far the largest pile; it was infinite.
“I will play this game forever,” God said, “or until you become tired.”