WHIRLING DREAM1 - 7
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. Your conscience ferments in it -- no larger than a single grain of malt. You don't have to do anything anymore.
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You: Look, there's *I Am Tired of Being This Type of Animal* and Who-Gives-a-Shit!
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Not you! Your days of giving a shit and being that type of animal are over.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: An inordinate amount of time passes. It is utterly void of struggle. No ex-wives are contained within it.
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Untitled hub (02)
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You: I like nothing.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: I know you do, baby... I know...
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You: That sounds like something I would like to do -- let's go!
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Jump to: [Ancient Reptilian Brain: "Somewhere in the sore, bloated man-..."]
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Limbic System: You lost.
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Encyclopedia: The sound outside -- you recognize it. It's a Coupris Kineema motor carriage.
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You: I want to get off now, I like pain and burning light and wanting things from people who don't want to give them to me.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Do you really?
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You: How big is the ball?
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Limbic System: You can't even make out it's a ball, when you're dukin' it out. It's that large.
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You: And this *dukin' it out* I keep hearing about - what's that?
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Limbic System: Vying for resources? It's just a stupid expression you picked up somewhere. The part of the presentation you want to take home with you is this: you have to beat the other evil apes in the face or you lose.
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Limbic System: Yes, you're one disco mother.
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You: Tell me, what's waiting for me?
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You: I don't care, I'm an idiot. A brave idiot.
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Inland Empire: Fear and apprehension... You should ask what's out there first.
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Untitled hub
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: You got it, sweet brother! Nothing upon nothing, upon nothing!
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You: How about you cough up some more of that sweet oblivion?
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Limbic System: There's this giant ball there. And evil apes. And the evil apes are dukin' it out on the ball. You're one of them. It's basically all just evil apes dukin' it out on a giant ball.
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Untitled hub (03)
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You: Who *am* I? What sort of creature does this to their own mouth?!
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Limbic System: A fiery streak penetrates your skull, trying to force your eyes open. It's a sound. A clarion call from hell.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Like a fly to the ointment, your conscience sticks to it. The limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the desert. Hurting. Longing. Dancing to disco music.
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Volition: You can take it, you're a Champion!
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You: Don't be naive, of course not. I want to sail the inky blackness until forever ends!
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Limbic System: Variable["whirling.dreamone_longroute"]
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Limbic System: Infinitesimally small.
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Jump to: [Untitled hub (03)]
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Getting off point
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You: Wait, no! I need to belittle myself instead.
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You: Don't stop, keep singing. Sing me the song of death.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Somewhere in the sore, bloated man-meat around you -- *a sensation*!
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You: Allons-y! Never let me go!
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: All right. Nothingtown to Fuck-All-Borough!
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Untitled hub
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You: (Simply keep on non-existing.)
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You: Never ever ever?
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Coming right up, sir. Smooth passage...
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You: Allons-y, let's go!
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Limbic System: An awareness creeps up on you. A mass lies hidden in your dead angle, soaking in some lurid, acidic sauce. It's bloated and shameful, a ball of meat surrounding you... This is a terrible line of questioning, and it will only lead to more awareness of the meat-thing.
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You: No, I wanted to know about the ex-something.
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You: (Plunge back into the fathomless deep.)
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You: Stop! I don't want to hear anything more about this *sensation*. Take me back to the formless, disembodied nothing!
Please, no! I changed my mind! Take me back to the formless, disembodied nothing!
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Limbic System: The stench of liquor rises from your mouth. And with it -- an *un-godly* headache.
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You: No, I want to get off now. I like pain and burning light and wanting things from people who don't want to give them to me.
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You: I do. Let me off.
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Limbic System: You wouldn't like it if I told you what's back there. Why do you think you had to bludgeon yourself into oblivion? Or did you not sense yourself -- marinating? Poured so much over yourself... Got a bit *carried away* did we, chef?
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You: Help! Someone! Cut my head off, it's trying to murder the rest of me!
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You: Wait, I did this to myself?
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Limbic System: Yes, it is. And you drowned in that sadness a long time ago.
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You: What do you mean *drowned*?
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You: No, I am not scared, I am a Champion!
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You: Mother, help me, there's a head attached to my neck and I'm *in* it.
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You: This is great!
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You: What was that about the *ex-* something?
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You: Gimme some more.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Yes. It. Is.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Ex-love, ex-tenderness. It is foolish of you to resurface to the loss. Not after all the damage you suffered to get here, some of it irreversible... Stay, sail with me through the Abyssopelagic Zone!
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Ever.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Never ever.
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You: A return trip to The Silence please!
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You: Let's visit the ancient Zero-Holm!
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Variable["whirling.dreamone_longroute"]
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!(Variable["whirling.dreamone_longroute"])
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: The song of death is sweet and endless... But what is this? Somewhere in the sore, bloated *man-meat* around you -- a sensation!
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Do you want me to upgrade that into a *one way trip*, sir?
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: There. No ball of meat, no light in the formless nothing. Just nightswimming!
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Great choice, elder one. It has always been like this -- and it always will.
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You: That's sad.
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Ancient Reptilian Brain: Never ever ever ever, baby!
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Encyclopedia: Somehow you know what it is -- a Coupris Kineema motor carriage.
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You: [Open your eyes.]
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You: How small are the apes?
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You: Okay, I'm a bit scared now. Let's go back to the dark.
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