A Scientific Discovery in Three or Four Parts

I.

We got
to the center of the
sun somehow. There
was a man there--
no one else saw him
--he was sweating rather
profusely, I suppose, because
he must have been
HOT in that tiny room so
full of such Large Lights.

He typed on a
smallish typewriter with
Thousands! Trillions! Infinite!
WPS. With Pages Soaring
like bold, white eagles in that finite
square of space. How did he manage
to type all that...
...fast?

Words on worlds: Earth
mentioned, of course and
also a few other
places. But, not quite so dreadfully
much describing Jupiter, which he
had a distaste for, I think.

If recollection serves, I offered
to relieve him. I was thinking,
“He must be so tired he
must have been typing for a longish
time and who would want
to type eternally? And who?”   And I
was thinking “No! Not me! Not in that
smallish room, No! And WHY?”

II.

The year is 2096.
Cars in New Newark fly through
four-dimensional streets looking like
four dimensional fire-demons all
over and under the outer-sky. They fly right through
you your three-dimensional body and
you sometimes don’t even notice
due to: You’re busy! And there is so much!
in every Second - Hour - Day - Time!

People have perfected the art
of walking place-to-place. No one ever
dies tragically anymore. Only accidentally or
incidentally, or never, maybe.

III.

“You have Nine Hundred Thousand, Six Hundred Fifty Two point Seventy Three hairs,”
He said. “Your toes are ten: one very calloused. Your lips, when they curl,
Make little diamonds out of skin.
Like a dew-drop strewn baseball field. Like shimmering, like snow.
Now I devised high-heel shoes and Socrates.
Gandhi, Mussolini, and the moose and wool.
I made cotton. I picked cotton
With those poor people you were supposed
To be ministering to even before you were born.

“I love you, obviously.
I Want You To Love Me.

“Why did you
Color yourself with metal cells?
Why did you come here with such fervor? Was it me?
Are you trying to escape me while
Walking into the light?”

I.

That man. Oh! I think
He must have been
God. I think He
knew I was coming.

Science says “NO,” of
course. It says “hallucinations! Visions! Fool!”
They teach us not to believe
these strange ideas, these strange
thoughts, these days. They would scoff, shout
“No one has ever heard such preposterous
hypotheses! Such ludicrous!” then
illuminate more ridicule.

But who has ever heard
of a little man
with a typewriter
typing your thoughts and
your feelings in the
center of the sun?