Harry gets his fill of human communication out of the air and has no need for additional verbiage via technology. Nevertheless my phone rang and it was Harry.
"I need help, man."
"Harry? Why aren't you telepathing me, if that's a verb?"
"I need you to help me think in human language. I'm at a pay phone."
"Why?"
Harry, in his communing with animals and people, has concluded that human language depicts an overly causal, performative world (except when diverted to poetry).
"For once, I want to control things."
"This must be serious!"
"We're all in the same boat," Harry sighed, "...the same sinking boat."
Harry is pessimistic by self-definition, whereas I continually strive to burnish my optimism (figuring my pessimism needs no burnishing). Put differently, I view the glass as half full (of shit).
Harry believes that human consciousness is a construct, one of whose purposes is to individualize us, so that we believe we are independent actors, "people," if you will. When Harry telepathically travels outside of human language he sees further possibilities. Once he experienced being a porpoise with half its brain asleep; another time he was Zephyr- the spirit of the West Wind.
But Harry is alarmed by what he's picking up lately from random media and real time humans and animals who pass his way. He sees "us" - his loose term for atoms and molecules of all sorts, including his own- as increasingly unstable, fissionable material.
In other words: Ka-Boom!
The city of Los Angeles offers a phone app to alert users to imminent earthquake. Harry wants to function as something similar. He says we should be alert for psychic mindquakes. Once the distinctive shaking starts it will gradually accelerate, until it either slows down or continues to a state of dissolution. Harry maintains that we have some say in this.
Harry notes that the instability will appear localized in time but will have been eons in the making, the latest in a series of shake-ups that started hundreds of millions of years ago, when predation first appeared on the ocean floor. Over long ages, single-celled life had grazed and meditated, until one day God said, "For their sins, let them eat each other."
I don't think Harry would mind if I contrast his version of the impending Ka-boom with Christian apocalyptic thinking, as expressed in Revelation, the final book of the Bible. Revelation reveals, as it were, the final fission of the world's fissionable material. Though widely popular with early Christians, Revelation at first met resistance from Church authorities, who were perhaps wary of its explicit message. Revelation was rejected for inclusion in the canon by the Council of Laodicea in 363 AD. The Synod of Hippo, in 393 AD, was poised to reject it again but had second thoughts when it realized that Christians were going to read Revelation whether it was canonical or not. After all, it provided human life with a purpose: To die.
Harry strives to offer solace here and now, rather than in an afterlife, the qualities of which he can't guarantee.
The duration of the coming Ka-boom, from start to finish, is unclear, but its outcome, according to Harry, is clear: The entire surface of the earth will be transformed. Harry wants to use human language to suggest to all who will listen that the Age of Fission will not be the all-destroying event it is portrayed as, that with the proper state of mind, one will be able to exist within it, with one's atoms intact, and one's consciousness functioning.
It's a worthy goal.