“I sit at the center of the universe,” Bertram said to the paper towel holder.
The paper towel holder looked back at him with its two rows of sky-blue eyes. It didn’t say anything.
“No, really,” Bertram continued, “wherever I am is the center of the universe. It has to be.”
The paper towel holder raised the stalks of its upper row of eyes slightly.
“OK. I know you don’t believe me, but consider this. I am conscious. You will grant me that, won’t you?”
The top row of eyes nodded.
“OK, then. And consciousness is as fundamental to existence as matter or energy. You do agree to that?”
Raised eye-stalks again.
“Look, the latest Bell inequality experiments don’t leave any room for doubt. Seriously.”
The eye-stalks lowered slightly.
“And if consciousness is fundamental, then there really can be only one consciousness. So if I’m conscious, I must have that one, universal consciousness.”
The paper towel dispenser continued to look at him, its eye-stalks unmoving.
“Aannnd… If it’s that fundamental, it must also be central. So my consciousness is central to the universe. Therefore I am central to the universe.”
The paper towel dispenser extended a bright green tentacle from beneath the brightly-printed roll of paper towels on its spindle and waved it at Bertram in a gesture that appeared to him to be almost sad.
He looked down and saw his body start to fade away, almost as if it were being erased.
He smiled wryly at the paper towel dispenser.
“Well,” he had time to say before he faded away entirely, “at least people will know where to go if they want to get a first-rate paper towel, won’t they?”
Written using MacWrite 4.5, Macintosh OS 6.0.8,
MiniVMac, 04/19/2013 4:15 AM PST
Welcome to the Trashiverse 