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“You know,” I said, “sometimes I think the kvithion sumurhe had the right of it. The big green bat started to turn around what was neither its x, y, or z axis, slowly rotating to reveal what was undoubtedly the biggest, greenest bat that I had ever seen, a bat bigger and greener than which it was impossible to conceive. You control the car with skill and precision, driving it wherever you wish to go, manipulating the headlights and the windshield wipers and the stereo and the air conditioning, and you pronounce yourself a great master.

The world is an interference pattern between colliding waves of Truth and Beauty, and either one of them pure from the source and undiluted by the other will be fatal. But there are paths you cannot travel, because there are no roads to them, and you long to run through the forest, or swim in the river, or climb the high mountains.

And you say okay, fine, but what series of buttons will lead to you getting out of the car, and he says no, really, you need to stop thinking about dashboard buttons and GET OUT OF THE CAR. I crawled just far enough out of bed to flip a light switch on, then collapsed back onto the soiled covers.

And you tell him maybe if the sage helps you change your oil or rotates your tires or something then it will improve your driving to the point where getting out of the car will be a cinch after that, and he tells you it has nothing to do with how rotated your tires are and you just need to GET OUT OF THE CAR, and so you call him a moron and drive away.” “Universal love,” said the cactus person. And the first step to getting help is for you to factor my number. The clock on the wall read , meaning I’d been out about an hour and a half.

Not facts or factors or factories / but contact with the abstract attractor that brings you back to me Not to seek / but to find” “I don’t follow,” I said. You’ve got to understand, this is like a bigger gulf for me than normal human versus ineffable DMT entity. So how about you shut up about universal love and you factor my number for me so we can start figuring out a battle plan for giving humanity a real spiritual revolution? The force of the blast went rattling past the bat and the beach, disturbing each, then made its way to a nearby bay of upside-down trees with their roots in the breeze and their branches underground. “I honestly believe that there’s a perspective from which Time doesn’t matter, where a single moment of recognition is equivalent to eternal recognition.

The prophets tell you it is easy; indeed, it is the easiest thing you have ever done. Just factor the number.” “And I promise you,” said the big green bat. You just need to GET OUT OF THE CAR.” “I can’t get out of the car until you factor the number.” “I won’t factor the number until you get out of the car.” “Please, I’m begging you, factor the number!

You have traveled the Pan-American Highway from the boreal pole to the Darien Gap, you have crossed Route 66 in the dead heat of summer, you have outrun cop cars at 160 mph and survived, and GETTING OUT OF THE CAR is easier than any of them, the easiest thing you can imagine, closer to you than the veins in your head, but still the secret is obscure to you.” A herd of bison came into listen, and voles and squirrels and ermine and great tusked deer gathered round to hear as the bat continued his sermon. ” “Yes, well, I’m begging you, please get out of the car! Then tree and beast all fled due east and the moon and stars shot south.

“So that metaphor is totally unfair,” I said, “and a better metaphor would be if every time someone got out of the car, five minutes later they found themselves back in the car, and I ask the sage for driving directions to a laboratory where they are studying that problem, and…” “You only believe that because it’s written on the windshield,” said the big green bat. I briefly considered taking some more ayahuasca and heading right back there, but the chances of getting anything more out of the big green bat, let alone the cactus person, seemed small enough to fit in a thimble. Behind the veil, across the infinite abyss, beyond the ice, beyond daath, the dew rose from the soaked ground and coalesced into a great drop, which floated up into an oily sky and became a watery sun. “Hey,” the cactus person finally said, “just out of curiosity, was the answer 37,975,227, 936,943,673, 922,808,872, 755,445,627, 854,565,536, 638,199 times 40,094,690,950, 920,881,030, 683,735,292, 761,468,389, 214,899,724,061?

“And you think the windshield is identical to reality because you won’t GET OUT OF THE CAR.” “Fine,” I said.

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