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                         Underground eXperts United

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         [  The Secret Actors  ]                     [  By The GNN  ]


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                               THE SECRET ACTORS
                        by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu

               This file has not been constructed by The GNN.


There is just one reality. All others are faked; you live in one of them. I,
however, live in the real reality together with my friends. We have always
lived here, and will live here forever. We are static, in the sense that we
do not change - at least not in the way you are used to.
   But most important, we are in control, of what you will see and what you
will hear. Time does not exist. We are the secret actors of the theater, so
listen carefully.

                                 we control
   the left
                                    and
                                                                the right

   ... and so I snapped my fingers, and the cafe fell down in front of my
shoes. Yet another show was about to take place, in the never ending theater.
(Well, of course, the show had already begun - the moment I snapped my
fingers. But that is only a mere detail, nothing you need to worry about. You
will have other things to think about when you are through.)
   I opened the door and entered. A little bell rang as the door closed
behind me. No one noticed me; all the other actors were busy talking, arguing
and discussing with each other. Cigar and cigarette smoke engulfed the place.
Coffee and whiskey were consumed.
   Two persons caught my attention in the crowd. I recognized them from a
situation that I had been a part of. They argued about quality in text.
   "... even though he acted in one of the best pieces of art that has ever
been around, I see no excuse for wasting his talent on that worthless piece
of garbage that he...," said the man I knew as... well, I was not really
sure. Never mind. His present clothing revealed that he had worked for
something that existed in what you call the future.
   "Oh, why don't you just shut up," the woman in front of him interrupted.
When I had met her the first time, she was a drug abuser who tried to find
the exciting life. Now, she seemed to have participated in something less
controversial. Like if she had taken a bus ride, looking really normal.
   They kept on arguing with each other. I decided to sit down and join them.
I believed my company would, at least for the moment, neutralize their
discussion.
   They greeted me, but I noticed that none of them recognized me.
   "I'm Spingleman. And the inventor of the Red Team." I said.
   No answer. They just looked at me, with suspicious eyes.
   "Erm," I continued, "You know? Zero-Twenty-Eight? One-Sixty-Seven?"
   The man uttered a cry of delight. "We have met before! I used to be
Stechnykov. How are you, my friend?"
   "Fine," I replied. "You see, I'm the owner of this cafe."
   They both began to laugh. "I should have guessed!" said the woman. "If I
know you right, you are a fan of, well, how shall I put it... twists?"
   "I am." I replied and smiled. "They are quite enjoyable, if conducted the
right way."
   The man leaned back in his chair, called for the waitress and ordered me a
stiff drink. I was not sure if I really ought to drink, since I had a rather
serious project in mind. But I came to the conclusion that the mood demanded
me to drink it anyway.
   "The only thing I hate with this work," said the man, "is that the damn
fools of the other world believe that the situations we create and uphold are
invented by..."
   He sneered.
   "... the authors!"
   The woman agreed. I had no opinion. But in a sense, I knew he was right,
even though he had put the words rather foolish. We would be nothing without
the other world.

                                 we control
   what has been
                                  what is
                                                      what will always be

   The bell rang behind me. I turned around and saw a man enter the cafe. He
looked around, waved to a few friends, before his eyes fell on me. He
chuckled, pointed at me with a finger and said: "Good thinking."
   I nodded a thank. This sure was a good idea, I thought. Actors need not
only construct shows, but also meta-shows. I drank the drink. I listened to
the discussions. Then it was time to leave. This created situation had
nothing more to offer the spectator.
   I rose from my chair. A collective sigh could be heard from the crowd.
Obviously, the fact that it was I that had created this cafe had spread
across the actors. They seldom get to meet each other, so I guess they were
not at all that pleased with my oncoming departure.
   I opened the door and stepped out. After I had snapped my fingers, the
cafe was no more. Limbo of text is not a nice place, so I decided to leave
quickly for another place. This had been a good show, for me and for you. But
I have other things to do now. I will snap my fingers one more time, and then
I am out of this textfile. But I can assure you, we will meet some other day.
   Snap.


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         If you need more letters, consider: www.algonet.se/~daba
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                Is there a relevance of metaethics to ethics?

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 uXu #370              Underground eXperts United 1997              uXu #370
                     Call KASTLEROCK -> +1-412-527-3749
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