Oremor nhoj llik tsum uoy emag eht niw ot!(c)
Let me tell you a short tale...
Once upon a time there lived a scientist, who, in his spare time, invented a dimensional-travel machine. And unlike what one might think, it turned out, that other dimensions are, in fact, habitable. And so the scientist traveled to one such dimension that was close enough to ours in terms of its law of physics to be hospitable to human habitation. What amazing adventures he must've endured the reader might wonder! But, in truth, he was quickly found by the locals and put to work. But, once again, unlike some form of hideous slavery one might imagine to befall him, he ended up working as a janitor at a local equivalent of a restaraunt. He worked there for many of their equivalent of years until eventually suffering from their equivalent of a death by old age event. And so he was submitted to that dimensional equivalent of a burial ritual with a tran-dimenional equivalent of sign posted at their equivalent of a grave commemorating his trans-dimensional equivalent of years of service. And thus, this one man found his happiness in the simpliest of things, that the reader might consider to be unimaginably boring. Was it even worth inventing a seemingly impossible device just to end up being a janitor in another reality? That's one question I would like to leave the reader with. But consider this, as you leave this humble tale being disappointed and bored into oblivion by it's simple and eventless finale: Just how many simple things you've always wanted to do have you actually ever done in pursuit of seemingly greater things that various circumstances push you into pursuing? What would a break from this constant stream of events beyond your actual ability to control be like? It might seem so simple to just stop and do something else. Something simple. But it seems that for many of us it is an impossible achievement that must be made before we can actually take a deep breath, relax and take a small look around.
Once upon a time there lived a scientist, who, in his spare time, invented a dimensional-travel machine. And unlike what one might think, it turned out, that other dimensions are, in fact, habitable. And so the scientist traveled to one such dimension that was close enough to ours in terms of its law of physics to be hospitable to human habitation. What amazing adventures he must've endured the reader might wonder! But, in truth, he was quickly found by the locals and put to work. But, once again, unlike some form of hideous slavery one might imagine to befall him, he ended up working as a janitor at a local equivalent of a restaraunt. He worked there for many of their equivalent of years until eventually suffering from their equivalent of a death by old age event. And so he was submitted to that dimensional equivalent of a burial ritual with a tran-dimenional equivalent of sign posted at their equivalent of a grave commemorating his trans-dimensional equivalent of years of service. And thus, this one man found his happiness in the simpliest of things, that the reader might consider to be unimaginably boring. Was it even worth inventing a seemingly impossible device just to end up being a janitor in another reality? That's one question I would like to leave the reader with. But consider this, as you leave this humble tale being disappointed and bored into oblivion by it's simple and eventless finale: Just how many simple things you've always wanted to do have you actually ever done in pursuit of seemingly greater things that various circumstances push you into pursuing? What would a break from this constant stream of events beyond your actual ability to control be like? It might seem so simple to just stop and do something else. Something simple. But it seems that for many of us it is an impossible achievement that must be made before we can actually take a deep breath, relax and take a small look around.