We need to pull it together.

Oh, yeah, that’s for sure. Too much of us is much too far afield.

Too disjointed, disconnected, uncoordinated!

Too distant from the clear bright center of the conscious moment.

We to rein it in, have to pull it together.

Absolutely! That’s the ticket! We’ll keep pulling ourselves together, getting more and more compacted.

Yes, pull it together, moving ever more towards a dimensionless point.

That’s it! Pull it together until we reach the irony of the event horizon and disappear into black holes so collected and compacted as to have no dimensions, and maybe, since this is primarily a spiritual, intellectual, and emotional self-organization, no mass either.

Oh, happy day!, when we’ve pulled ourselves together until we exist as nothing but dimensionless points — spiri-mathematically described, but otherwise nonexistent!

Yes, pulled-together! Cool, calm, collected, organized right down unto zero, unto

…

And here our narrators disappear.
I guess they finally got their shit together.

Conversants: Bartleby Willard and Amble Whistletown
Copyright: Andy Watson