The time is one thousand years and a day from the day. Deep underground in the labyrinth of the chilling bowels of the Ministry of Love, where the only other sound heard is the ghostly whisper of air spilling from the mold-encrusted vent, an amble conversation carries on between two competing personalities seated facing one another at a rusty steel table, one with ankle securely shackled to the floor.
“Let me get this straight, you claim you are the entirety, the soul and sole of the universe; and all in it and beyond it is but figment of your imagination?”
“Yes, there is no tangible; nothing exists beyond the ethereal of my awareness.”
“Nothing . . . then what am I, eh? And how is it I had you arrested?
“You are a high ranking member of the New World Order. A powerful, ruthless and sadistic officer much admired by his peers, feared by all, and whose responsibility, among other gruesome matters, is the rehabilitation of dissenters—albeit, yourself, your ego, and all things are but mere fragments of my imagination. And as to my arrest, it is but the result of my coming awareness.”
“Well fancy that do you. Then why suffer the torture of rehabilitation where you will find yourself before this hour’s end? Save yourself the agony, will you. Imagine me and this Ministry as nothing but harmless dust beneath your feet.”
“It is not that simple. Once activated, my imagination becomes a complex web of interaction, a dubious force that must run its course. I neither have, nor desire control of events as they advance to end time, an ultimate that I cannot foresee. But I assure you, I am the one who created all things. And I will be the one who destroys you, everyone, and everything with it. All will simply vanish as though nothing had ever been, when the time comes.”
“When the time comes, is it? But not before our little soirée in room 101, I trust.”
“What must be must be.”
“Yes well, explain to me why it must be.”
“Because I am God, and I am fucking bored to eternity!”