The Answer Is There Is No Answer.

There Are Only Patterns, Patterns On Top Of Patterns, Patterns That Affect Other Patterns. Patterns Hidden By Patterns. Patterns Within Patterns. If You Watch Close, History Does Nothing But Repeat Itself. What We Call Chaos Is Just Patterns We Haven't Recognized. What We Call Random Is Just Patterns We Can't Decipher. What We Can't Understand We Call Nonsense. What We Can't Read We Call Gibberish. There Is No Free Will. There Are No Variables.

Dude, The Place Is Filling Up," I Say. "it Feels Like We're Living In The Bottom Half Of An Hourglass." Like Somehow We're Running Out Of Time.

That's How A Good Story Works. It Changes How You Feel. It Brings You To A Greater Appreciation, A Greater Joy, Of Your Own Existence.

No, Miss Wright Didn't Want To Meet Her Kid. To Her, That Relationship Was Just As Important, Just As Ideal And Impossible As It Would Be To The Child. She'd Expect That Young Man To Be Perfect, Smart, And Talented, Everything To Compensate For All The Mistakes That She'd Made. The Whole Wasted, Unhappy Mess Of Her Life.

It's So Quiet This High Up, The Feeling You Get Is That You're One Of Those Space Monkeys. You Do The Little Job You're Trained To Do. Pull A Lever. Push A Button. You Don't Understand Any Of It, And Then You Just Die.