[enter]

"Nothing you know

is real."

I stood before them:

Two didacts,

disdain incarnate,

austere, immovable;

a breezeway in the

concrete behemoth.

The building wound

around us,

three human cilia

planted in

abstract intestine.

Their robes, simple, fine,

the color of jewels;

a simple tunic for me.

"The sky is up?"

"No you simple fool."

"Two plus two?

That makes four?"

"You sweet,

bumbling

disgrace

of a brain;

no.

Your world is a lie.

It's all been unreal.

Fabricated.

False.

Fallacy.

Fiction."

"But how do I know....

What do I do?

Where do I go?

How do I know right from wrong

left from right

good from bad

safety from danger—

am

I

real?"

Scoff.

"Well certainly

you are."

"Will you teach me

what is real?"

"Well.

It's our job

to try."

[Wake up.]