Living Outside Of Space

I landed at Heathrow airport in(?) London on Sept 13th. I had no idea where I was.

What I did know: this was an airport, named Heathrow, in or near London.

I did not know where in the airport I was. I didn’t know how the airport was laid out, or where to go next. I didn’t know where it existed in relation to London, only that it was the default airport for people going to London. I didn’t know how to get from the airport to anywhere else in England. And I certainly didn’t know how to get to the specific room buried in the bowels of a foreign city where I would be staying that night.

I knew that I didn’t know any of this before I left my house 14 hours ago. I’d known for days that I lacked all this knowledge. Twenty years ago, this would be the height of irresponsibility, and dangerously incompetent. Nowadays, I have a magic slab.

I gave my magic slab a string of numbers and letters that represent an address in physical reality. The magic slab told me to walk 400 feet in a specific direction, then turn right and walk another 200 feet.

I followed the directions of my magic slab, enacting a ritual that didn’t require my conscious awareness at all, including the buying of various mass transit tickets. I could have nearly been replaced by a clockwork automaton, following directions from an unembodied master, but for one exception — at a crucial juncture in my travels, I had to figure out how a paper slip ticket worked, and how it interacted with the physical gates that blocked my passage until I properly presented the slip. It was pretty easy: the black stripe on the back goes face-down into the slot. Still, it was memorable because it was the only time I needed to exercise my own mind/will.

It was a crazy experience, which young-Eneasz would not have predicted would ever occur.

Perhaps crucially for the events that are to come, it launched my entry into England with a religious ritual. It sanctified this place as distinct from the vulgar world. This was not an area of physical space that was navigated by knowledge and skill. It was a realm outside of space, where one followed ritual directions, informed purely by the strength of one’s faith. I had faith in the powers channeled through the magic slab. My faith was rewarded. By diligently observing the ritual, I arrived at my room, still not sure where I was or where the room even existed in reality, but safely and within the promised time frame!

There’s this flash fic re the Whispering Earring of Til Iosophrang. The Earring always whispers the optimal next action for its wearer to take. They live extremely successful and happy lives. Upon autopsy after death, it’s found that their neocortexes are extremely atrophied. The implication being that they just never needed to think again, so why would the thinking part of the brain continue to be maintained by the body? Ten years ago, I merely thought it was a fantastic and unforgettable story. Now I think it’s that, and also a cautionary tale.

It is good to have rituals, and it is good to have such powerful tools. But we are creating our own Whispering Earrings of Til Iosophrang. We should be more aware that we’re doing that, and be more intentional in deciding how much of ourselves to give over to it. If I’m going to part with my neocortex, I want to do so because I chose to. Let my last choice be a conscious one.