lanter soul chapter 4

 

4

 

Decisions, agency, it's the need for the illusion of choice. Thomas Biggerstaff lived on a pale blue planet in a universe full of galaxies and stars. His dreams were full of choice. He was obsessed with sorcery! a quartet of books by Steve Jackson of the pre-mass market games workshop fame.

 

Thomas was working on his book, Greed Hunter. Following his primary inspiration, the works of Yoshihiro Togashi, he decided never to finish it definitively (this is an obscure joke. But I think it is worth leaving here.) Deciding instead to make a choose your own adventure book in the style of a Fighting Fantasy.

 

Literary asperation put on the back burner. Instead, Thomas wanted to amuse himself. Do things he couldn't get away if you attached the fear of a legacy to it.

 

He had a philosophy to express, what you carry will slow you down. He felt a need to tell the world this. He thought the world in all its vagaries had its lessons to teach. It's things to say to him, and he listened. Thomas could carry on a conversation with God (or so he thought) with the passing traffic. He could lay in his room, and here a car hit the lane barrier with their tire and take it as a yes or know. Aware that the choice was his to make. But that the question he answered was a backward kind of divinity. What he truly felt as he was staring down a hall and could see himself at the end of it, these noises were a way to keep moving forward. a step towards the goal of self-actualization.

 

"Choice refines the algorithm we call self," he thought. Then went back to pretending he was creating; no, this was not the actualization of an object of art.

 

He was creating an external reality, something to tell his therapist. He wanted to impress him, to show that he had value—some confidence. Logical reasons, rationalizations of why his therapist should love him. It wasn't sexual that ship had sailed with Sara. He told her in no uncertain terms that he loved her yet; here he was, needing a therapist to get over her. "this is our last appointment." she said.

 

He cried through the whole session he usually did; it doesn't matter if we are talking about the appointments with his former therapist or his current. The dog and pony show of dragging catharsis kicking a screaming out into a world that wanted to deny it was the best he could do.

 

"try writing it down," said his therapist.

 

"I can only express a desire for choice because that is all I want." Said Thomas Biggerstick. "sooner or later, everything I write as an expression of a sense of self I understand to be a failure even if it is unavoidable. There is no grand expression that will provide me with a choice. All I desire is a choice, but once I express that, a door closes again."

 

"have you ever heard lawyers guns and money by warren Zevon?" said the therapist. That could be Sara, but probably it is not.

 

"no... why?" said Thomas Biggerstick.

 

"well, the chorus to that song is, send lawyers guns and money. Reminds of what you are trying to express." said the therapist that is increasingly becoming apparent that he is not Sara. "I am sorry to say we are out of time; I know I have you in my schedule next week. Would you like to go ahead and schedule one for the one after that as well?"

 

Thomas wanted to assault this man, to beat him to within an inch of his life. But instead looked at him with a smile and said, "no, it's okay. I will see you next week."

 

Like most hipster indie kids, Thomas liked wilco, and listened to the song heavy metal drummer on the walk home.