Imaginarium

This false … day.

I like false nature, don’t you?

False nature really does look very real. It’s supposed to be drawing on our memories. And dreams. Both of us together.

 

Does it remind you of anything? Does it look like anything? Your distant youth? Before … philosophy. Before anything …

Is it supposed to?

 

There is no countryside in Southall. Osterley Park. I remember that. That was countryside-y.

 

Fake greensward. Fake river. Fake rushes in the river.

 

Don’t deny yourself, philosopher. Give ib.

 

You could almost forget.

I can’t forget.

That’s because you’re insufferable … a bit.

 

The holodeck, right?

A sky like God made used to make them..

The blue fake sky. No chemtrails. No particulates.

It’s actually bright.

No one’s fucking with the weather.

You think people fuck with the weather?

 

Give in. This is the countryside we’ve made.

 

The water feels like water, doesn’t it?

Sure.

Can you see the fish?

Could you catch a fish?

Not sure. Don’t push it.

 

See, you’re curious, aren’t you? You want to know more. And it is intriguing, isn’t it?

 

You can have meetings by the pond.

Fuck the fake pond. Fuck everything.

Are you in a bad mood now?

 

The lull – the great lull. That’s how we’re going to live: in the great lull.

 

What’s the setting?

North east England.

Do you want high summer?

That’d be too much.

Spring? Autumn?

Sure – Spring. I want to see fate Spring.

 

This is so beautiful

It’s like Blue-Ray beautiful. 4KD beautiful. It’s in such high resolution. It’s too bright. Like it’s all … backlit.

 

The thing is, it’s not just an imitation of the world. It’s an imitation of Paradise. Of the New Jerusalem.

 

Did you ever see a sky as beautiful as that? Isn’t it the most beautiful sky in the world? The eternal summer, to our eternal winter.

It’s unreal. It’s lifted somehow. Made higher than it is.

 

This whole … box was made by Satan. It’s total deception. And lies.

But I like the lies. There’s such a thing as pretty lies.

 

Don’t you breathe more easily, philosopher? Isn’t your blood pressure lowering? This is, like the last temptation.

 

Wouldn’t you like to escape into summer?

Sure I would.

It makes you feel so much better. All this natural-unnatural light. Can you remember a sky like that? The skies of your childhood. Of summer holidays. Without chemtrails. Without particulates.

 

The Imaginarium … I’m not sure how it works. Or what it is. It’s supposed to stimulate ideas.

How does it do that?

It reads your brain in some complicated way. I suppose your brain will be entirely too deep for it, philosopher. And too despairing. Not least at the Imaginarium. It’ll probably cause it to self-destruct.

 

The Imaginarium … It’s hard to say.

Very grand name.

 

Do you believe in telepathy, philosopher?

Shaking my head.

Thought not. Or in anything supernatural. So where do we go after we die, philosophy? Do you know the answer to that kind of thig? Do you have an opinion?  Do you believe in an afterlife?

 

Wander the meadows in your mind.

 

It’s just an empty box.

It’s very far from an empty box.

 

Even better than your Northern Lights show.

 

A lush, verdant paradise. You can actually pick and eat the berries here.

No way.

Actually, I’m not sure you can.

 

You can do a whole solo Imaginarium journey thing. What you see is personal to you. You have to lie face down on this pillow thing. Close you eyes. Relax. Just let the images come to you.

Fuck off.

It’ll make you feel so much better.

I don’t want to feel better.

 

The building’s got all the life-support mechanisms. It’s built to withstand ever kind of disaster.

Comforting.

Even zombies. I don’t know why they always include zombies.

 

It’s like guided meditation, apparently. Let it guide you.

No!

 

It’s sort of sentient. It speaks, sometimes. I’ve heard it speak.

What does it say?

 

People cry uncontrollably – senior organisational managers. Curled up into a ball.

 

You can get totally addicted to it. Like an opium trance.

 

So what do you experience in the Imaginarium?

Falling. Endless falling. But that I like. Faster and faster. But I fall upwards, philosopher. What do you think of that?

 

It's supposed to be the English countryside. Drawing on the English imaginary. At the heart of the campus.

 

All these fake worlds.

 

The Pulse is supposed to show you who you are.

So who am I?

 

Absolute lies. But beautiful lies. Necessary lies.

We’re going to need it in the future. When they close up the countryside.

Is that what they’re going to do?

 

This is the future, isn’t it? Lying, dreaming in a place like this.

It’s disgusting. You’ve conquered the sky. The outside world. Now you’re going to conquer the inside world, too. Our dreams.

 

Just lie down, philosopher.

I don’t want to meditate. I don’t want to be lulled. I don’t want … illusions.

Not even beautiful illusions?

 

I want to see something pretty. Instead of all the steel and glass. I want to see something living. Are you alive, philosopher? Am I alive? Or is it only circuits and wires beneath the skin?

 

It’s a virtual platform … thing. A VR environment. You can conjure up all kinds of stuff.

 

Give in … it’s pretty. It’s better than the endless Newcastle winter, right?

 

Where the falsehood is at its greatest. Where it’s at its most terrible.

 

All these false worlds.

All these fabulous pseudo worlds.

 

And a fine yellow sun.