AMKent books

Could it not be designed to die?

The design is to postpone it, infinity is its defense mechanism. We saw that when the parasite ate itself to death. It wraps itself in the endless to manage its terror of the end.

What of other dimensions? Time becomes abstract when they are changed. There is no end when there is no start, it all becomes meaningless. You are so caught up in your logic that you forget that logic has no place outside of the human mind.

The unaccounted weight of the universe is telling, the pearl is hidden above what we can perceive. And abstract as it may become, to the point conventional logic is neither truth or lie. The blood is from the same beast, the matter may tangle and twist, the numbers merge and the laws eat each other, but our monad remains.

God is binary.

The girl, Angelica. She came to this conclusion, I know it. No matter how confusing the art is, it still requires the creator to produce it.

You have been hungry, haven’t you, Hound?

I was dismissed so easily. I housed the vermin and it regarded me as little more than a vehicle, that must physically destroyed me. Paradise opened only to the girl, but not out of fear that I would be somewhere so close to the heart of God. No, no, I was truly boring, a generic psychopath who carried a bug so easily thwarted by the first line of defense.

Now you will have your chance to rival your master.

Provocative hag you are.

Tragic that you were so hurt by not being as important as your mind and that bacteria had hyped you up to be. You are nothing novel, I told you that before. Even your profound lamentations on being a metaphysical traitor are poorly rehashed philosophies from greater, more conditioned minds. You are drunk on your solutions, but all the problems are created by you to be solved by you. Foolish evil hound, you have become so good at cheating your intellect that you have even fooled yourself. You are an idiot masquerading as a genius.

I will not tear you out, no matter how hard you try. You will watch me succeed.

You reproduced your ideas of hell upon innocent people. Before this war you were a morbid story in the news, a killer who thought he was producing something more. Now, with no law of man and an infinite playground of people you suddenly pick a fight with God. Attention from your fellow human is no longer enough, you need the absolute attention.

I evolved from my ideas of brimstone and fire, punishment and spiritual suffrage.

You think you have out-grown mankind. Yet, the soul of an old woman is dancing circles around you.

I love to see you dancing again, that old body of yours had lost that playful vigour.

I think you are nothing but cope. Say enough blasphemous things that you receive the divine spanking your warped mind craves. Godly discipline! How about this, if you are the usurper of God, then surely your own flagellation would be the highest form of disciplining?

Did you not just witness me kill myself with a rock?

Not physical. Go out through the divine light, obliterate yourself in your own grace.

A little too clever to be an old woman of no note, with such a normal little life before this.

You trapped me in here.

It was predilection, as long as you are sharing a soul with me then God cannot dismiss me. It would be too surgical to part us.

You are holding me a divine hostage and you do not even know who I am…