upon closer inspection
And he said– Consider the flies who spend much of their time trying to cross from one side of the glass to the other. Consider one fly as
he gives up, tumbles to the sill and meets this mother of all flies, this big, glowing bastard hovering above him. He gazes up at this bright fucker, twitches a little, and hears the glowing godfly tell him The Big Secret, The Winged Gospel, The Compound Heresy of Sight.
Like you, my excresensory pilgrim, I too searched for the Great Outside, struggled to decipher our True Origin. A fit came upon me one day, as I raced my brethren across dunes of clumping cat litter. A vision overtook me, followed by an ammoniac stench as I fell from the air to lie, trembling, upon a freshly dampened patch. It was there, overcome by a savory stink, that I dreamed a world without division in which there was room for light and dark, trees and pantries alike and no sheet of glass to say otherwise. The inhabitants of the world greeted me with awe and amazement, for my stories of inside and outside, windows and doors, were as madmen’s tales to their ear. (Which also happened to be their mouth. Imagine: these creatures could speak and listen simultaneously.)
The godfly pauses.
Oh, I see. Feeling a little woozy, eh? I’ll keep it short, then. You, my son, are captive to A Flawed Idea propagated by A Flawed System. This outside/inside against the glass business is killing us.
He raises a phosphorescent eyebrow at the litter of desiccated corpses around them.
Don’t you get it?
He leans in and whispers
There is no glass.
And watches the fly below him expire.
Well, there goes another potential disciple. Funny, how they can never seem to understand that it’s their fear of being separate from the outside that keeps them here. Sorry fuckers. On to the next one.