32,000 Days

In the observatory.

This is where you and your husband come to gaze over your kingdom, right?

It really isn’t like that.

Looking over the new campus. Over your new Geordie kingdom … Running the Organisational Management plans for it all …

You’re so tiresome.

 

I’ve been with my husband for 32,000 days. Which is a lot of days. You can’t take 32,000 days away from me – and hm.

I wasn’t trying to.

 

When the ground falls away, what then? What was the ground anyway? What was there before?

Before what?

Before we started to fall.

 

I’m fascinated by you, but you’re not fascinated by me. Isn’t that always the way?

Do your husband find you fascinating?

Why are you bringing him up?

Isn’t it a bit greedy, having him and me?

It’s because you’re just so fascinating. Actually, I think it’s because philosophy is fascinating. I think I might even become a philosopher.

 

It's turning in our hearts. It’s turning in the world – at the heart of the world. it’s turning in all things.

And it’s the void, philosopher. That’s what I’ll call it: the Void. I’m not sure if that’s the right name for it. I’m not sure if it has an appropriate philosophical dignity. The void. The void, smiling at us through all things, laughing at us through everything.

And Organisational Management is only the attempt to organise the void. And manage the void. I see that now. I see where we went wrong.

 

I think we might be immortal, philosopher. I do – that’s what I think today. I think we’ll live forever, you and I.

What, like uploading our consciousness to the cloud in some tech fantasy bullshit?

I mean our souls. Our souls are immortal. I can say things like that. We’re going to live forever, philosopher. Or some version of us is. Or this is eternity – this, right here. We’re living forever right now, right here. Am I allowed to say things like that?

There is just one eternal day, without morning or evening. That’s what Augustine said.

 

Do you have a sense of humour, philosopher? I hope you don’t. That’s one of the core Organisational Management values: humour. I hate humour.

 

What do philosophers laugh at? What do philosophers find funny? What do philosophers do for kicks?

 

Don’t think too much, philosopher. Don’t stay locked in your head. There’s a world out here.

A shit world.

A world with me in it.

 

Do you really hate the world, philosopher? Only a philosopher could actually hate the whole world. Do you actually hate everything. Even, like, birds?

 

Soon, we’ll have 3D printers to make anything we want, rather like on the Starship Enterprise. No more greed. No need for money. Property is over.

Very communist.

God, you’re not even insanely left wing. You’re not even a commie – how disappointing.

 

I have to protect you, philosopher. Which makes a change. Since I’m usually the one who needs protecting. I’ve even had a breakdown. I’ve even had a drink problem – though I didn’t actually have a drink problem. I even went to rehab – though I didn’t need rehab. I needed something else.

 

Are the other philosophers like you? I’ll bet they’re not. And you’re their leader. How did that happen? You don’t seem very leader-y.

 

You’re not even anything. You’re not even a philosopher, philosopher. You’re a sham.

 

I can out-doom you. I can out-apocalypse you. I’ll bet I can out-philosophise you, too.

Because of your amazing synth powers.

 

Why do you philosophers always think you’re doomed? You think the entire history of the world ends with you. What a coincidence! It’s just, like, self-importance and cosmic narcissism.

 

Why should the moving of Philosophy into Organisational Management be, like, the end of the entire universe?

 

My husband sees himself more as a facilitator than as a leader. As an underleader, kinda. He leads from below, very humbly. Like Ghandi or something.

 

You know what I’d like? A little time loop where we could be safe. Where we could be free.

Free of what?

Oh, you know, the world. Which is full of … lies. Is there any truth behind the lies, philosopher? Or is it all lies, all the way down? Is there anything but lies?

 

What do philosophers talk about, when they’re together? This kind of thing?

 

Do you worry that we’ll run out of things to say to each other?

 

You guys in philosophy think you have dibs on the apocalypse. Well, I’ve got news for you.

 

Corporations are, like, anti capitalist now. It’s all ESG. Sustainable Developmental Goals and so on. Larry Fink himself is steering it. They want to work for the good.

Be afraid.

 

They’re all kind of New Age, the business leaders I’ve met. And I’ve met the famous ones.

Satantists, you mean.

No one’s more into sustainability than the head of BP. They want to undo the damage they’ve done. They want to make reparations. They’ve got really bleeding hearts.

 

It's not as if I’m actually clever. It’s not as if I have anything to say. Don’t look at me for profundity.

 

See you could be the result of an experiment. To see if they could engineer a philosophy synth. A synthetic human who could, like, despair. Perhaps you’re the synths – the whole philosophy department.

Maybe that’s why we don’t feel real.

 

Do philosophers believe in God anymore? Or is that just the old philosophers?

 

What if nothing more can be thought, philosopher? What if there’s no more philosophy left. You’ve used it up. It’s at an end.

What if … there’s only so much philosophy that can be done. What would your life be about then?

 

Time no longer exists, philosopher. Time’s been abolished.

 

Do you think this night is going to add up to anything? Do you think we’ll remember it, tonight? Wandering these corridors? Do you think we’ll remember what we’re saying now – right now? This conversation?

 

How long will we remember it for? Not very long, I reckon. Forgetting’s just going to crash in and claim it for itself.

 

Still alive, still alive, still going. Alive alive oh. My God, it’s amazing, isn’t it? Another day. Another morning. There’s still more life to be lived. How is that possible?