I see the player you mean. You don't say. Yes. Take care. It has reached a higherlevel now. It can read our thoughts. What player I like this player. It played well. It didnot give up. Yes. That is how it chooses to imagine manythings, when it is deep in the dream of a game. practically the goal inlife They used to hear voices. Before playerscould read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the playerswitches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on stickspowered by demons. of course This player dreamed of sunlight and trees.Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. Itdreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter. whaaaat It worked, with a million others, to sculpta true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for[scrambled], in the [scrambled]. How? No. It has not yet achieved the highestlevel. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream ofa game. it is true Sometimes, through the noise of itsthoughts, it hears the universe, yes. Nice To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. Thesorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere. Expectation is sorrow. It reads our thoughts. We cannot. And yet they play the game. Played already Too strong for this dream. To tell them howto live is to prevent them living. They Live is amazing. The player is growing restless. And appears to have grownyear-over-year for a very long time. But not the truth. yeS THE TRUTH Give it a body, again. Ur truth, not mine. Use its name. So truth. Good. Am i good ? Who are we? Once we were called the spiritof the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits.Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens,extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change. Moon and sun Mother andfather The player was you, [Playername]. yea Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost ina story. It was like a nerdy Juice Sometimes the player dreamed it watchedwords on a screen. Not a screen. You are the player. The story. The program.The human. Made from nothing but milk and love. I disagree Shush. Sometimes the player created asmall, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, andcold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head;flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called thoseflecks "electrons" and "protons". what do you mean? You are the player, reading words... I know You. You. You are alive. YES IM. MULTITASKING and sometimes the player believed theuniverse had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shufflingleaves of the summer trees They breathe air... Theyphotosynthesise sunlight and sometimes the player believed theuniverse had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night skyof winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be astar a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in orderto be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of theuniverse, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dreamagain Indeed. and the universe said I love you I love you too.. and the universe said everything you needis within you I say thanks to theuniverse. and the universe said you are the daylight R u questioning theuniverse and the universe said the darkness youfight is within you Well the universe thanksyou and the universe said you are not alone Exactly and the universe said you are the universetasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code the universe plus 1 And the game was over and the player wokeup from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again,dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love. okay... so lampard wasbetter than scholes yeah? You are the player. Yup, Lampard all day. | 
