AMKent books

I refuse to believe that the universe is neutral, nature is impartial and the care we feel is rooted in our human bias. If it does not care, then why does it continually create systems in which care is the only way they sustain? Care imposed upon us to function within natures systems. A shadowed intention, the invisible nudge from a sly God. Then we must inquire, what kind of care does this tinkerer of realities possess? It cares that we care enough to sustain our lives, why else would we contain the machine that requires the fuel so to speak. Why metabolise and why is such a thing ingrained into us? Camus claimed to take ones life was to decide the ultimate question of whether life was truly worth living. I believe suicide further plays into the trick, you are doomed to be recycled into another form of energy that must care in some alternative way to maintain itself before the cycle continues. Nothing can leave infinity, nothing, and so the finite must care, the logic must care for the paradox, the eternal intention that claims none at all.

“So much talk of care for something so malevolent.”

She understands evil, but does she realise that evil is not goods enemy, but its enabler.

“One cannot exist without the other, and you rant and rave about those philosophers only to be the most tragic of them all…”

Ahead is a solider playing an upright piano in the ruins of the street, comrades and enemies alike are strewn across the asphalt and craters. He plays Bach’s ‘Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor, BWV 582’. His fingers are nimble, trained, he treats time signatures with the respect they deserve, inner and outer voices compliment, there is even a shred of his flourish in the resonation. I know we lie in his peripherals, yet he does not stop playing. A condemned man exercising the creation of another, rather fitting to animate the silence amongst the inanimate bodies.

“A fan of Bach?”

It is not silence.

“Teleological dressed up as something revolutionary? It is easy to know that God is real now it has shown itself.”

Laminin, a glycoprotein molecule that holds the cells together. The bond that holds life itself, shaped like a crucifix. A mockery perhaps? The Hive is not God. It is ignorance, a demiurge, a false divinity imposed upon us for reasons that I have yet to discover.

“Sounds like Christianity, I did not expect that from you.”

Not Christian, but there is something to martyrdom, it is a blueprint to ascend this false God. The parasite knew more than it let on, but it is dead, from the sin of greed fueled by the sin of wrath.