Memory in a memory in a memory.




Yesterday a friend said to me ‘I am Nana.’






I appear to have turned into a character from a Philip K Dick book. Whatever. My life is bizarrely reflected in his novels and a large number of other Alt reality books and movies. Also many people I know are also in the books and movies. Bizarrely is the new normal.



‘The next world should be the real world’ Hamilton said. ‘Sooner or later we’re going to be out of this rat race.’

‘But not yet’ Marsha objected. ‘There are eight of us and we’ve only gone through three. Do we still have five still ahead ?’

‘We’ve been in three fantasy worlds’ Hamilton said. ‘Three closed worlds that don’t touch on reality at any point. Once we’re in them we’re stuck – there’s no way out. So far we’ve had bad luck.’


Henry Hamilton.




The soft-drink stand fell into bits. Molecules. He saw the molecules, colourless, without qualities, that made it up. Then he saw through, into the space beyond it; he saw the hill behind, the trees and sky. He saw the soft-drink stand go out of existence, along with the counter man, the cash register, the big dispenser of orange drink, the taps for Coke and root beer, the ice-chests of bottles, the hot dog broiler, the jars of mustard, the shelves of cones, the row of heavy round metal lids under which were the different ice creams.

In its place was a slip of paper. He reached out his hand and took hold of the slip of paper. On it was printing, block letters.


Turning away, he unsteadily walked back, past children playing, past the benches and the old people. As he walked he put his hand into his coat pocket and found the metal box he kept there. He halted, opened the box, looked down at the slips of paper already in it. Then he added the new one. Six in all. Six times.




To deliberately misquote Kenneth Williams in Carry On Cleo : ‘Entropy. They’ve all got it entropy.’

With all the goodness taken out.




Dark City





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