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The Metafizzical Essays of
Nicholas Hancock

Published by The British Hancock Society
by arrangement with the author.

Copyright    2008 Nicholas Hancock.  Permission  is granted  to  distribute  in  any  medium, commercial or
non-commercial, provided author attribution and copyright notices remain intact.




There is no time yet, no days to measure it by or events to sequence it; there is no matter or space, no up, no down, no before and no after. Not even Chaos. Only Me.

Eternity doesn't drag: it festers. And as eternity cannot be measured I am unable to say how much of it has passed. As a matter of fact it does not pass at all. It just IS, heavily and absorbingly.

I contemplate Myself. As I am perfect, there is nothing to contemplate but the dreary parameters of My perfection.

Or is there? I concentrate, aware of the import of My sudden discovery. Or is there indeed?

And what if I should dream?


I imagine electromagnetic radiation, in particular wavelengths of between 7 x 1 -5 and 4 x 10-5 centimetres and develop the ability to be aware of it with what you might anachronistically call an eye. Bright and good, the radiation illuminates the nothing round Me effulgently. And I blink metaphysically, switching the wavelengths off and on, dreaming night and day. Am exhausted but radiant.


Having envisioned the elements the English will later call oxygen and hydrogen, I marry them to form a viscous medium - the medium of primal seas and the vapour ballooning above them. Burnt out, but wet and happy.


I dream up a skeleton igneous rock arching out of the viscous medium; some of this I grind and glue instantly into arkoses, limestones, loess, greywackes, pyroxenes - and some of these I metamorphose into marbles, schists, gneisses and slates. Then, getting bored, I think up minute templates of photosynthesising beings that procreate and self-destruct, and all the exotic complexities of Linnaean taxonymy. I am groggy - but free of boredom.


I isolate the electromagnetic radiation into individual sources of light - sol atque luna, sun and moon, Sonne und Mond - and mind-pricking stars. Without the tiniest bang, the ticking of my cesium clock has started: I become dizzy with the ever-rolling ballet of becoming and dying. After a half-eternity of virtual slumber, I begin to long for real repose.


Barely able to keep awake, I fantasise autonomous beings in the viscous medium and in the nitrogen-oxygen blend of gases above - strange reveries locomoting on stomachs, legs, fins or cilia. At first I am dazzled by the brilliance of the exchange of gases: plants needing carbon dioxide release oxygen, animals releasing carbon dioxide need oxygen. The exchange of solids delights Me also - the life-death equivalences of animals consuming each other or plants. Soon, however, I am assailed by cries of anguish from My creation and silent prayers of pain; the dying and the sickening get to Me; insidiously they overwhelm Me. Having invented a machine of near perpetual motion, I find I cannot uncreate it, can only wait for its built-in entropy to run it down. Heavy-eyed, I wonder if this is a nightmare or a dream.


Unable to stop myself, I fancy creatures for the dry land, including a biped that thinks it looks like Me. I'm really not the least bit religious, but these animals are beginning to disturb Me. I have given them a semblance of free will to make them more amusing, but they're already coming to all the wrong decisions. Longing for sleep.


I sink into unconsciousness for the second half of eternity¹

¹Editor's note: the above text was discovered in al-Hadr, Iraq, when a certain Muhammad ibn Tawil was excavating a septic tank for his mother's maiden aunt; the lettering is a prototype of cuneiform writing and was first decoded by Professor Ivor Williams of Leeds University