All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace, By Richard Brautigan

 

The first thing my dad said when I told him about the concept of solarpunk.

The Unconscious Stoa Poikile.

  The Unconscious Stoa Poikile.

By Dylan Clockwork.

Many people lie that there are five senses, and they lie without ever thinking about that statement for more than a minute as children. People have a sense of wonder, imagination, of heat, unease, doom and the list goes on well past when anyone could hope to read it. Perhaps a sense of agency was checked while reading this. Rarely though does the sense of self become checked. Something more than going with the gut before a decision, Attempting to measure and perceive how a person is without the flesh possessions and emotions can be difficult. Though there is a place where it is most famous.

“Cluck.”

“Hmm,” Sophia wondered about the chicken. She wondered about a great many things, such as why she was on a gorgeous beach when normally the closest body of water to her was lake michigan. There were also ruins of marble and onyx structures, twisting lattices of gold rainbow and shadow far to her distance. And a steep smoldering volcano that whichever way she turned was always right out of eyesight. All that was hard to understand early in the morning. The realist thing she could find was a partically stupid looking chicken wondering around that was keeping her from losing her mind.

“Cluck?”

“Hello?” Sophia asked.

“Cluck!”

“I’m getting up,” an echoey voice grumbled.

Sophia inspected the echoey voiced landscape. There was nothing person shaped, but the chicken was fairly interested in some broken pottery. After a bit of poking around, she found what might have been the most dirty scraggly and unkept old man she'd ever seen. He was crawling out of a piece of pottery that said "wine only and this way up." 

"Now I'm entirely up," the old man said. "And do I want to know person three million who's asking me for advice? Or is this another person fond of blocking my sunlight?

"Hello?" Sophia asked. 

"Begone!"

"Cluck?”

“Fine,” he said and walked out of his spot. “Who are you who is standing in the one spot where your voice echoes into that pot. I like that pot, it’s a nice pot far away from Kadath and close enough to Celephaïs to not have wannabe sophists. But not so far I can’t go and be a sophist myself, ha ha.”

“What?” Sophia asked. “How does this homeless man know me?”

“Ask your question!”

“What? Oh yea, where am I?” Sophia asked looking at the strange structures on the horizon. 

“Up a staircase, past the guards, in my sunlight.”

“Guards?” then Sophia remembered. “She was in her house, delirious and wondering how there was a staircase in her painting. Then she walked through it and some people with elusive features asked her some questions.

"Physically speaking I'm not sure, ten feet in front of me probably," the man speculated stretching his back into position. "That seems like a lie. Tell me who you are mentally and possibly spiritally instead."

"Umm well…" Sophia did not feel like telling her life story to this man. 

"I take it your stressed and suffering major fatigue," The old man specilated an alarming distance from her face. ”No physical ailments, those lines under your eyes don't lie. Probably a man… no. Modern age must be different, profession problems. And… Ah that's nice and complicates things, so why did you land next to me? Walk with me."

For some reason Sophia followed the strange man, possibly because he was the least strange thing around her. 

"What's your profession then?" The old man asked.

"What's yours?" Sophia asked with a small eb of venom.

"Ruler of men or teacher depending on the semantics."

“Ah, well I’m a student, probably not one of yours.”

“Of what?” 

“General education at the moment," Sophia remembered. "Currently in my third year, working on getting a bunch of base credits out of the way."

"Not doing as well as you hoped?"

"Well… yea," she admitted. "I mean I probably won't fail but still. And I'm sucking at half my classes at the moment, poly maths, romantics, histories and greek humanities."

"Is that the study of multiple mathematics or the study of people who made contributions to multiple fields of the written world?”

“The first one,”

“Yes that makes more sense,” the old man said, stepping over a fissure in the earth. “I imagine that the other two subjects must be plenty more difficult if you never met the subjects involved.”

“Yea, also I keep getting dates confused,” At that moment Sophia noticed a large spectrum of numberers occupying her arm. Upon a closer look They formed dates years changing before they reached the current day. Then she remembered it was actually the next year again and the date scratched out to become one year higher. “This Place is weird. Where Am I in space?”

“Mentally it has to do with the true north.”

“Ah the northern lights, this makes more sense.”

“No something to do with polaris.” 

“Nevermind.”

“Perhaps when are you? Your american right, and don’t use kilometers.”

“That makes less sense, but yea I’m from Chicago, and we use miles.”

“Well more often you measure distance in units of time,” the old man said. “We’re about two minutes from… friends of mine?”

“That sounded sketchy.”

“Well we’re about one minute from some guys I know then.”

“That sounds less sketchy and more sketchy at the same time.”

“There’s no winning sometimes,” the old man admitted.

“No but there’s having fun losing,” Sophia retorted. “And there’s losing with style!”

“Hmm,” the old man pondered. “You’re all right you know that.”

“Cluck!”

“Agh! confound this beast.”

Sophia saw the chicken had approached another man, this one taller leaner, and looked like he knew a lot about paper quality. There were other people as well. Others in strange robes, stranger renaissance clothing, one or two in suits. One in a set of ornamental robes, and a few other people assorted about. The original old man didn’t seem to care and instead sat on a nearby pillar chatting up someone in a suit while his chicken attacked the first man.

“Diogenes may never change,” the suited man said.

“We’re still on for throwing rocks at the infinite hole game right?” The old man asked the one in the suit.

“By hole do you mean the sea, the infinite rabbit hole, the chasm, the borderlands, my life, my reputation, my stomach or current project?”

“Let’s start at an early one and make our way to a later one.”

“Let’s hope it’s metaphorically and then literally my substance problems as well.”

At this point another robed figure walked around the corner and clapped his hands. “Allright if it is fine with everybody I think we should begin now. Everyone please find a spot around the U, except for you Sophia. If you could stand in that ring it would make things easier.”

Sophia wasn’t sure why everyone began taking positions around the vibrant colored thing but the man who asked her looked incredibly sad and exhausted so she didn’t feel like making him unhappy.

“You took my spot,” A colorful Frenchman announced to the old man.

“I took a spot.”

“My but has been heating it up,” the Frenchman said. “The wood is cold.”

“That’s why I took it.”

“Zeno!”

“You can have mine,” the sad man said.

“Roll call,” someone with a crisp english accent said.

“Zeno,” the sad man said.

“Nichechez,” the man in the blakc said said.

“Confusious,” an elegant man from the east announced.

“Rene Descartes,” the Frenchman said, looking for his seat.

“Socrates,”a robed figure said, shooing the chicken.

“Diogenes,” the strange old man said.

“And I am Immanual  Kant,” the Englishman said, checking off something in a small book.

“Not his manual, what are you?” Diogenes asked. 

“You have done that joke to death,” Neichez said. “It’s worse than A bear Camus.”

“And we are here to hear the trail of,” Kant asked with a gesture towards Sophia.

“Urm Sophia?” 

“Some things don’t change,” Kant said, writing it down in his little book. “Thank you.”

Sophia Recognized every name on this list. Her first thought was that she was having a hallucination or dream brought on by not enough sleep or too much caffeine. That would do a lot to explain why there were seven of the most famous figures in philosophy around her. The next thing she thought was why was she dreaming of this if she wasn't even doing bad at greek humanities. 

"You likely have a lot of questions," Kant said. "We do not have answers, at least none that would satisfy you."

"You are probably on another plane of reality," Nichechez said. "We're actually fairly confident about this one. People enter and leave somewhat at will, connected through dreams and sorcery. If you can find the staircase and answer the questions you can step through, potentially forever."

Kant visibly rolled his eyes and waited for Nichechez to stop interrupting. "Yes thank you for that idea. Sophia please don't bother living your life as though there are other levels of existence, that's just his theory."

"And the theory of nearly every man here," Confuscious said. "In fact of all the semi permanent people here you are one of the few who reject the idea. And the only to not have a permanent idea to replace it."

"Stop bullying Kant, he's doing his best," Zeno said. 

"Thank you for that, can we go two minutes without arguing?" Rene asked.

"No," Nichechez and Diogenes said in unison.

"Fine," Rene said, realizing it wasn't productive to argue about arguing. "Standard trial then, Zeno will arbitrate since he can be trusted after all and this is his Stoa Polkta. Diogenes, you've been talking with her for a while. Would you explain why she's here?"

"Agreed," Zeno exhaled.

"Also agree," Diogenes announced walking around to Sophia. "Our newest arrival seems to have landed next to us due to having us on her mind and not in a good way. She hasn't been getting any sleep and is likely undergoing panic attacks as well as sleep paralysis. Additionally time is of the essence, She's rapidly expiring."

"What the fuck?" Sophia thought to herself. "Am I dying?"

"Well everyone is dying, don't feel too bad about it," Confuscious said. "The difference is how much good life you have left and whether anyone can do anything tangible to stretch things out."

"Yes and we don't mean in the avoiding sugars, alcohols and nicotine way either," Nichechez explained. "Nobody expects you to do that, we mean yes you're dying quickly from your perspective."

"You could though, it helps," Socrates interrupted sheepishly. "We've known about that for a while now."

"You're dying fast," Confucions explained, seeing Sophia's face twist in confusion as the speakers piled.

"Maybe it would help if you could tell us what you remember about what you were doing before you came here," Socrates suggested. "Cause and effect and all that."

"Err," Sophia strained her mind. "She remembered making the long drive home from her work, feeling awful and blanking most of the trip. She flicked the button on her opener, pulled inside. Then… something about the closer in her car wouldn't shut the door so she fiddled with it for a minute. It finally closed. She got out of her car… no that didn't happen. Did she just collapse? Did she remember to turn off the engine?

"Shit." 

"I saw your eyes go alert. I take it you have an answer," Socrates stated.

"I think I might be asphyxiating," Sophia squeaked out.

"There are worse ways to go," Nichechez said.

"You know you don't always have to be the devil's advocate," Rene said.

"I'll speak for who I want to."

"Um, is there anything any of you can do?" Sophia asked meekly. "Or what happens if I die here?"

"That topic seems to be under some debate," Kant said. "From what I've observed you die, your body seems to have been brought here in some manner."

"Or you may wake up on the other side," Diogenes suggested. “Whether or not that otherside is earth or another plane is uncertain. To any extent a body may or may not remain here.”

"Can you help?"

"Well…" Nichechez started . "There is the problem of what happens if we try to help? What will you do?"

"I'll live," Sophia growled. 

"Maybe," Rene said, staring through her. "What will you do afterwards?" 

"Well I'll.. I don't know, go to class afterwards," Sophia stuttered. 

"Same as today?" Confucius asked.

"Yes."

"So you may wind up here again tomorrow night," Confucius stated.

"Well hang on."

"What I think he means is," Rene began. "What sort of a person are you? We want to help you Sophia, but what sort of person are we providing the world if we do that. What is Sophia to the world around her? If we found every person you'd ever even vaguely interacted with and asked if they wanted you to exist on earth how would they vote."

"What do you want, a character witness to help?" 

"No we cannot provide one here and neither can you," Socrates said. 

"This is taking too long for her," Nichechez snapped. "What we need is a way to distill who you are rapidly."

"Anyone know if Freud's around?" Diogenes asked.

“Let’s just try asking questions,” Socrates said. “If she lies between all of us we can tell, if she thinks she’s telling the truth then we will have to judge her based on her experiences with reality.”

“Feels a bit wrong if we don’t have some method of judging your actions based on the unseen impact they had,” Kant said. “I don’t want to drag… you know into this. Isn’t there supposed to be someone or something who has this job.”

“I didn’t know you believed in Santa Claus,” Diogenes asked with an arbrut look.

After a minute of Nietzsche laughing and the rest of them scribbling some questions on a piece of paper they got to work.

“So have you ever been convicted of a crime and if so why?” Zeno asked, holding up the first page.

“Ugh traffic tickets I guess,” Sophia recalled. “Does it count if it’s a speed trap?”

“Hang on a minute,” Kant proclaimed. “You knew it was wrong to do, why did you do it? If everyone did that, think about how the world would turn out.”

“Everyone did that, that’s why the cop was there,” 

“Were there any dangers?”

“None besides the normal dangers of driving around,” Sophia said. “Honestly at this point I’m more worried about getting a ticket than hitting someone.”

“We’ll table the correct vs good debate for now then,” Diogenes said. “How about this, is there anyone’s life you think you’ve changed for the better?”

“By how much?”

“Any amount that’s above what you’re obligated to do for other reasons,” Diogenes said. “Picking up trash isn’t helping a cleaner if you’re the person who produced said trash in the first place.”

“Uhh,” Sophia pondered, racking her brain. “Hang on a minute I know the answer is yes but I need to think of examples. Dammit why can’t I think of anything, well I am dying.” One look at Diogenes gave her an answer.

“Oh I help out the city's homeless every once in a while,” 

“She’s a good person!” Diogenes chanted.

“You know morality is more complicated than giving a beggar money or food,” Rene explained.

“Says you!” Diogenes shouted.

“Yes says me, morality is more complicated than that, every action breaks down and branches out into different actions and conclusions. Say if the people you help go on to stab somebody or if you’re spreading a disease amongst-AGH”

Diogenes had thrown the chicken at Rene.

“Let’s try this from a different angle, '' Kant said. “Do you have a conscience?”

“Yes!”

“Ok very good,” Kant said, checking off a question. “And you follow it to a high degree, correct?”

“Yes!”

“Good,” Kant said, checking down another box. “So since you have worked hard to follow your conscience in life you have a degree of certainty that what you have done so far is correct in life.”

“Err… yes?” Sophia answered wondering if there was a double meaning.

“So you wouldn’t say that you’ve had any regrets or situations you’ve handled wrongly that have bothered you into the future,” Kant said. “Nothing major at least.”

“Urm,” A wash of shame fell over Sophia’s face as she tried to think of how to answer him.

“Oh for god- for whoever run’s this place’s sake,” Nietzsche proclaimed. “Stop harassing her over having regrets, the regrets are what prove she’s actually a decent person. Regrets are fantastic, regrets mean that Sophia has grown as a person and realized she’s done something wrong which is fantastic. Nobody sane can wish that they’ll go out and have a butload of regrets. Everyone wants to do better and to rise above themselves to where they never have to feel like their fourteen again. Heck I’ll think you’re doing fantastic as long as you can tell me you’re trying to be a better person than you were yesterday. Always try to be more, otherwise you’ll wind up as a stagnant person wondering where the time went and oh GOD why did I waste everything. Just make some fucking values and stick to them ok?”

“Are you ok?” Sophia said.

“I’m here if you need to talk, Diogenes said. “That goes for everyone you know.”

“Will you get rid of the chicken?” Socrates asked.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I have one important question, which I believe has yet to be asked,” Zeno said.

“You literally have the floor Zeno, it's your floor,” Kant said.

“Sophia, do you wish to not die of asphyxiation?” 

All eyes turned towards Sophia.

“Well…” She had to think about this longer than she would have thought. “No, I want to live.”

“Then we should help,” Zeno said. “You may continue the debate if you wish, but I will explain the way out while you do so.”

“Hang on,” Rene started.

“She has a time limit we don’t,” Confucius said. 

“The way out is simple, death, injury or staircase,” Zeno said. “Please take care to power through whatever crisis you are facing on the other side.”

“Will this one here work,” Sophia pointed to a silver helix driving down.

“It should,” Rene said. “Just focus when you get out, we can’t emphasize that enough.”

“Can one of you…”

“No,” Diogenese said before she had the thought out. “Nowhere to go back to but the earth.”

Sophia stood up as did the others. They began to wander off into other directions of the strange landscape. Diogenes was the only one left to seem to pay her any attention.

“I have a lot of questions, I don’t think I managed to ask any of them.”

“Yea they’re like that with questions, I blame Socrates,” Diogenes said, sending the chicken out where Socrates wandered.

“Do I have time?”

“You’ll have more if you can get to the other side before you expire,” Diogenes said. “If you dream again, provided this is not the long sleep. Climb up the stairs, answer the questions. It may require more lucidity than you're used to but it is worth it.”

“Goodbye.”

Sophia climbed the staircase. The world began to appear flat. Then she felt the gentle rumble of a car. It took about thirty seconds for her to wake up, turn off the car, stumble out of the garage and begin puking her guts up. She was alive, though every part of her seemed to disagree.