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Leigh Cobley: Nontology.


Thurston put down the book. He couldn’t concentrate. Besides the washing machine
was driving him crazy. The dead of night. As if no one on Earth was really there. Silence.
Untold perceptions rang out through his limited understanding.
Too much to do. Work, work, work, how does it go? Still, there was point to the end
goal. He picked up the pen. “Carry on,” he thought as though sheer will power could make up
for just not being in the mood. Thurston had an important meeting the following day. It was
time. He had been waiting for this moment for years. The chance to finally do some good as
opposed to merely avoiding doing harm. His cruise was booked for six. In the morning. Off he
would go at last, all the way. Now was not the time to be thinking that though, now was not the
time. The plan seemed brilliant to him at first. Everyone knows. It’s like that every-time. Every-
time you need to sleep you just can’t. Impossible. Just impossible. It was the first word in a new
sentence yet the fact that it was spelt with a capital ‘I’ was still a big deal. Impossible. However
Thurston was a crafty shit. That’s why he had purposely put on the washing machine, why he
was desperately trying to study. Not to waste but a moment. If you’re desperate to stay up after
all you’re bound to fall asleep. In the end he gave up. It seemed he wasn’t up to staying up nor
getting any sleep. He reached for the remote. After pressing the ‘on’ button five times he turned
it around in his hand and switched on the TV. “Fuck. I hate these fucking shows!” He switched
to the only channel that wasn’t sport. It was a chat show. A bunch of cranks, lighting up an all
too memorably brazen set. Pink. Purple. Not colours you should look at, at four in the morning.
Thurston looked at the clock. Near enough. Why these people looked so with it was beyond
him. Why do people have such confidence in themselves as long as they’re screwed in the
head? The way they talk, as if it were irrefutable, all ignorant of all. The studio audience were
discussing, of all things, time travel. “I saw a documentary once where…” you know you’ve
heard that one before. Got to give them credit though, they look so involved. It’s like the more
informed you are the more disillusioned you get. Thurston flicked the channel. Sport. Sport.
Sport. Advertisements. You know it’s over when the ads seem more engaging. Time travel. Of
course it’s not possible, he thought. I can prove it right now. When I finally invent the time
machine I’ll come back in time to… he looked at the clock on the wall, it said ten past four. I’ll
come back to half four this morning, and tell my past self how to build it. That’s how I’ll build it.
He folded his arms in his armchair in anticipation. Ignoring how inconvenient this intrusion
would be on this of all nights. Thurston continued to doze in front of the TV. There was now an
opinion poll. Apparently for the first time, time travel was thought to be possible by the majority
of the public. Apparently. “Public opinion, private laziness!” he quoted from somewhere.
Suddenly there was a load noise from the kitchen. He could hear turbines, faster, faster, slow,
slower. He got up from the seat and walked towards the door. The advert on the TV was
playing suitably dramatic and tantalisingly ascending classical music. Why are adverts so load?
There was a rumbling. It was half four. Thurston gripped the kitchen door handle. The noise
within came to a sudden halt. The radiators buzzed, the lights shone on across the room. Then
he relaxed, reflected. His gaze broke as he did so. “Nah, I can’t be bothered. I’ll empty the
washing machine in the morning.” Thurston sat back down. He tried to stretch out in the
armchair at an angle so as to avoid the direct brunt of the glare from the TV. The armrest dug
his back. Time travel? People believe anything. He fell asleep.
He woke up. He had missed his trip through time and had almost missed his trip to the
Americas. The TV was playing some sort of cooking program. Thurston didn’t feel hungry. He
jumped into the shower. The phone rang. “Thurston? It’s Travis! You ready? I’ll be over to pick
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

you up in a moment, overslept…” Thurston dropped the phone and got back into the shower.
As he showered he thought of Kirsty. He thought of how good it would be if she were here right
now. Either way. Shame.
Tickets ready do not forget tickets! Passports. Drivers license. Wallet. Phone. Keys.
Keys? Won’t need them, but all the same. Keys. Money: dollars, euros and pesetas. Travel
cheques, address book: foreign and home. Numbers. Names. Tickets. Thurston picked up his
luggage, which was fairly light, surprisingly so considering the epic trip ahead of him. He had to
do something. Travis was there at the door, “Want a coffee?”
“Come on! There’s no time!” As we drove to the airport Travis briefed me on the plans
for the first week after our initial submersion experience. We were to live amongst the villagers
of the Aymaran population, experiencing their culture and ways of life. Travis had always had
an obsession for indigenous cultures, autodidactic on every world mythology. You ask him.
Thurston was more career orientated. Charity and voluntary work looks good on a CV after all.
Never use the bottom line of a page. It looks bad. There was a bottle of used aftershave on the
floor of the car in front of him. Community development. That’s what they call it. That’s what
they were going to the other side of the planet for. It was a long journey. By sea. A cruise all the
way across the Atlantic. Refreshments if you feel too sick for them or if you don’t. Too much
bass on the stereo in the car. Thurston wanted to wind down the window in the car. He wanted
to wind down them all.
“So you gave Kirsty the time of her life the other night huh?”
“wah?” responded Thurston, “I wish!”
“Come on man! You were at it all night!” Thurston looked at Travis. He was a little
perplexed. “Nah, I’ve been after her for too long, it’s never gonna happen… I’ve kinda accepted
it now.”
“What’re you talking about? Y’think we couldn’t hear what you put the lucky girl through
from downstairs? She’s been talking about you non stop since!”
“Stop it! That’s not funny!” Thurston was now bewildered. He actually felt utter rage
and humiliation as Kirsty had obviously slept with someone else that night.
“Oh come on! What’s got into you now? There’s no need to be such a gentleman about
it! She told us the whole sordid story! Look at you! You’ve still got the love bites to prove it!”
Travis was not going to let up. Thurston looked at his neck in the rear view mirror. It was
covered in love bites. Had he done that shaving? He hadn’t been with anyone for weeks!
“Those were not there this morning”, he thought, “Those were not there this morning!” In the
end Thurston decided to go along with the story. He was too bemused and hurt to continue
arguing. It just looked like he was lying, denying or worse being modest. The lie is always
better than its appearance.


Jump ahead. Striking scenes. Oldest trick in the book. In any book. In any book about
books. About books. Travis was fed up with books. After attempting to read through the trip he
had had it.
“I don’t believe it anyway” he said, “it’s fucking stupid. Who’d wanna believe that the
world is in such a state?”
“Whatever works for whatever people. If a people only live in a small populous area
and don’t move about, what difference does it make? As far as they are concerned I mean…”
“No! It’s not true. It’s only the fallacy that works best for us. There is no such thing as
truth!” The trip was mostly calm and boring. It didn’t seem like any proverbial calm before a
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

storm. That’s nonsense. We just didn’t pay attention. Too much to eat. Too much sitting about.
Too much reading. Then there was Hannah. There was definitely attention there. Excess of
attention. We met the others who had joined up for the trip aboard the ship. Your usual lot
really. Hippies who wanted to embrace their stereotypes by getting back to their primal roots,
jocks who wanted to escape their stereotypes. Hannah.
“Hannah” thought Travis, “Hannah.” Hannah hung by the arm of Dmitri, one of the
other students who had signed on as a gap year project. He was her brother right? Asked
every guy to themselves. Hannah thought of her brother back home and of the rest of her
family who were in the majority, not in favour of this trip. “What do you want to go to South
America for? Can’t you find a proper job here? Isn’t Britain good enough for you? You don’t
know what you’ve got girl!” Hannah knew what she had. It was right here and she wasn’t going
to let it go. Dmitri slapped Hannah’s wrist playfully. He laughed more through his nose than with
his mouth. Hannah laughed and let go of Dmitri’s arm. He reached for his drink. Grace stood
alone and felt sick. She felt sick from the movement of the ship from the moment she boarded
the ship. And she felt sick of the attention that she wasn’t getting. She retied her hair. She leant
forward and glanced into the side mirror next to the fruit bowl. What was wrong with these
people? She continued to look through the source material for the trip. Grace had studied
sustainability at uni. She was interested in the environment but not passionate about it. It
interested her mathematically that resources couldn’t possibly indefinitely be plucked out of the
ground could they? She was concerned that one day hard realities would come home.
“I know, fuck people in other countries, but as soon as we feel it ourselves that’s
another thing.” She finished paraphrasing her father, who wasn’t at all like-minded.
“I know,” replied Carl, whose eye she had finally caught, “they don’t understand that we
have to help others, it’s helping ourselves in the long run.” That’s why Carl was there. To help
himself. Clear sailing all the way. They were now through with their journey. They were now
through with their cheese and onion sandwiches. But the journey was just beginning.
The cd was out of its case. It was reflecting upon the wall. The light hit it sideways as it
continued its rapid journey across the room. Dmitri squinted and unsquinted. The lights rays hit
him and receded. Hit him and receded. The light rays moved back and forth in his vision at
seemingly infinite rates of rapidity. No. That’s stupid he thought. Even light has its limits. Dmitri
picked another crisp and dipped it into the salsa source.
“I just think it’s kinda hypocritical,” suggested Hannah, “I mean, here we are
supposedly on our way to help indigenous peoples through community development work and
yet here we are gorging ourselves on products that have only reached us through exploiting
those countries!”
“Ssshstrue,” replied Dmitri amid a lot of crunching, “we can kid ourselves that stuff we
import from these countries and accept isn’t making the positive things that we try to do counter
“I was talking to Dave just before we left,” Hannah and Dave’s conversation was more
confrontational than she was letting on. “Y’know what he’s like. Hardcore communism and all
that. Insisted on the futility of a trip like this. S’why he refused to come.”
“That’s cos from his perspective, as long as capitalism exists there’s no other way to
make a real dent except to get rid of it. Community work in other countries just helps the
economy for that countries ruling class, the actual people won’t see any gains… short of
“But if you really want to help education is the most vital thing,” broke in Travis back
from the buffet with his empty plastic cup in hand, “on both sides, that’s the only way people
can get the level of understanding about their situation necessary to do anything about it.”
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

Dave meanwhile had just got up. He went into the kitchen and made a round of toast,
the bread was long out of date but because he thought it wasn’t, it wasn’t mouldy. He collected
the morning post and went back to bed and continued to read the Spartacist league monthly.
Back on the ship, the buffet was now in full tilt. It was impossible to tell if people were
angling for conversation with a specific person or just after the last of the miniature sausages.
Grace began to feel the swing along with the ship. It all started with Grace. Carl had moved on
to ‘do’ someone else. Grace wished he would ‘do’ her quite literally and physically. The meet ‘n
greet had gone well so far, but Grace was thinking otherwise. “I’m gonna spend the next three
months with these guys! What am I doing? I always tell myself! When I meet a new bunch of
people there’s no reason! There’s no reason! No reason I can’t change the way I am, but every
time within half hour I’m stood by myself! Every time! And now I’m resigned to it!” Grace felt
sick. She made it known that she was going out onto the balcony for a while but no one heard
her. She stood there for another minute or two feeling stupider and stupider and then went. She
would have cursed herself for her bad timing if she’d have known later, but by then it was
beside the point. Things, by then, would have taken on a whole new meaning and sense of
urgency. Striking scenes.
The team leaders began to give the presentation to the group. There were three
separate areas to cover. Conservation. Community development. Journalism. However the
ship began to lurch. At first everyone merely felt queasy. Then nausea set in. Then an all too
spiritual sense of nausea like the signs of pre-emptive foreboding. “Fucking stupid,” thought
Thurston. After the slide show Thurston walked out, up, onto the deck. He saw Grace stood
out, watching across the sea. She saw him. “Beautiful init?” he asked less rhetorically than to
break the ice. Grace was no iceberg alone at sea. She instantly came alive once someone paid
attention to her. The ship wasn’t going to sink after all and neither was she.
“Oh. I think so. It seems to go on forever!”
“Which project are you doing?” asked Thurston, self consciously twiddling a bit of
material in his jacket pocket.
“Oh. I’m one of the conservation lot. You?”
“I’m up for journalism, a Spanish leftist paper in Bolivia. ‘The’ should I say…”
“And you can speaka gooda spanyola?”
“Si! Me hablo un poco buenas Espanola!” They both looked out towards the ocean and
didn’t speak much further. They didn’t need to. The sea did indeed seem to go on forever. But it
On the other side of the ship Todd was in his Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirt. He
was looking out towards the ocean too. He was in a secluded section of the deck. Frankie was
giving him head as he looked out to sea through his binoculars. He had already pulled the gag
of watching her at work through them. Todd didn’t notice the ever-present horizon line. He
didn’t notice it. It should have been receding. Todd wasn’t stupid. His true attention was
elsewhere. The captain of the ship however was more attentive and concerned as to the
horizon line as he wasn’t as pre-occupied as Todd. He wasn’t that kind of captain. The captain
was perplexed. He was already sweating. Columbus had discovered the Americas. Somehow
he had lost the Americas. There was no doubting it was out there. It was there on the map. All
ships crew confirmed correct course with which they had taken. Somehow he had lost America.
And the horizon line was all too curious. Greg would have known exactly what the problem
was. Greg was an expert on astronomy and ancient measure. But Greg was here on holiday.
Greg was at the ships bar oblivious. But Greg, had he been there, could have told the captain
and Todd exactly what was the problem. It was because of the receding horizon line that the
ancients had been able to guess that the earth was round. But Greg wasn’t talking about the
ancients right now. He was complaining about and to his wife. Thurston panicked. He
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

remembered that he had forgotten his phone. It was an awkward moment to leave Grace but
that didn’t stop him. Grace was annoyed. What was wrong with these people? “Shit! I forgot to
remember my phone!” Ever present, ever reliant. How he would get on in the Amazon was any-
ones guess. He searched his pockets but no avail awaited him there. He searched his bag.
There it was. It was in the first compartment in which he had looked. He hadn’t even had to go
through or empty the whole bag in order to find it. Incredible. He felt sure he wouldn’t have that
kind of luck again. He had a message. It was from home. He jabbed at the key pad to get the
damn thing to work he had to poke the buttons hard with a pen. Voice! Oh! That voice! Kirsty
had left him a message that morning. It was Kirsty’s voice: “Oh well… I’m just calling to say I’m
sorry I didn’t get to see you one last time before you left… I hope you have a great time…trip…
see you again maybe when you get back! Okay? Was fun! See you!”
“It was nice to hear her voice but what the fuck? Even Kirsty was convinced I slept
with her!” He thought, “but I know for sure I didn’t!” you used the bottom line and now you’ve
gone over board half wit! Thurston put his phone back into his bag. He reflected. “Fucking
piece of shit!” He put his phone into his jacket pocket. As the phone went in out came the piece
of material that he had been twiddling with his fingers all morning. It was a thong. A pink thong.
He turned behind the projection screen and sniffed the thong. “Kirsty!” he knew it was hers.
Grace was putting away some equipment and glanced at him. Her eyes widened. His eyes
widened. He quickly put Kirsty’s thong back where it definitely belonged in his pocket. Grace
walked away in comic book fashion. She was even more pissed off than before, “the only guy
who’s shown me any interest is a fucking pervert! Christ on a stick! I thought on a trip like this
there was bound to be at least one guy who wasn’t an asshole! Asshole!”
“Whats wrong with her?” asked Dmitri. Travis went out after her.
“But I didn’t sleep with her!” thought Thurston, “I wasn’t drunk, I remember that whole
night! Yet everyone, even Kirsty herself, is convinced that I did? How did I get her thong?”
Thurston went out after Travis. Travis and Grace were stood on the deck looking out to sea.
“What did he do to you? You look pretty offended! His way with women!”
“It doesn’t matter. I just need fresh air. This trips getting to me. Knew I should have
flown…” Wagner’s ‘Twilight of the Gods’ began to flare up from a private deck nearby and then
faded out again in the way in which classical music does. Travis looked out to sea. “Surely we
should be able to see the mainland by now? Wait a minute that’s odd…”
“Wha…? What are you talking about now?”
“The horizon, I mean it just goes on and on!”
“Well that means either we’re both on drugs or there has been a major fucking
conspiracy throughout the ages!”
“What’re you on?” replied Grace in a broken voice full of irritation. “You are on drugs!”
she preferred perverts to cranks. At least they expressed their sexuality in a sexual way. The
water was gradually getting choppier. Grace experienced the same sick feeling she had earlier
but to a greater extreme. Now the ship was losing its smooth course. The water seemed to be
running in straight lined channels, not the multi flowing waves that you would expect from the
mid sea Atlantic. All the water was now flowing in a definite straight path towards the horizon. It
was getting faster. Grace realised that something was very wrong. Not really wrong in actuality.
Just not at all as she had previously considered.
A darkness now descended over the horizon. There was nowhere for it to come from. It
was still midday! Midday. Mid sea. Midlife crisis. They were scaling the face of reason and had
found the sign that could have revealed the true dimensions of life. They were now amongst
supposed coastal waters gazing into the sun. like a moth with their grave imperfections
succumbed to the fatal realisations which were immanent.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

The darkness seemed to come from beyond the sea but what sense did that make?
The captain thought this through and through as he held course out of a lack of an other form
of decisive action. The crew by this time were in panic and the captain ordered a full out state
of emergency. Something was not going to plan. The ships engines now were shut down and
all came to a stop. Travis and grace were now vindicated by this and felt less stupid and almost
relieved that they had not just imagined all this. Yet then now felt even stupider for feeling this
way as it confirmed that they were in real danger. All power. The ship slowed but did not halt. It
was now caught in a torrent. It was no use dropping anchor as they were in the middle of the
ocean! The ship began to pick up pace again and headed uncontrollably onward. Friends and
liars won’t wait for you where you’re going honey. The darkness drew nearer. The horizon
ended but with it the Earth.
“What did you mean?” screamed grace somehow above the avalanche of foam and
noise thrusting against the hull, “What conspiracy? What were you talking about?” Grace was
in hysterics but she knew. She knew.
“Columbus! The fucking liar! You think the Americans faking the moon landing was a
biggie! It was the tip of the iceberg!” Travis cursed himself for mentioning the term iceberg.
“America doesn’t exist! The Earth was flat all along!” That was a bold statement. But
they could see the edge by now. It was fast approaching. All hell broke loose on board. Fraught
with danger the lives lead were judged unto fate. The captain tried to reverse but to no
“That’s it! We’re fucked!” cried Grace.
“We’re going over! We’re going over!” screamed Todd. Frankie just wept. She held
herself mesmerised by the view. You don’t get this kinda thing holidaying at home. By now the
others had come out onto the deck.
“Shit! It’s like a movie! I don’t believe it!” trembled Hannah.
“Yeah. ‘Cept the Americans aren’t gonna come and save the day as they don’t exist!”
replied Travis. Nobody laughed. The captain regained control of the ship and managed to slow
the decent towards the edge. The water just seemed to be pouring over. Weird. The ship was
now tinkering on what was no longer in any ones doubt the edge of the earth. The ship still
rocked too. Throw. It faced the edge sideways on and came to a halt which didn’t seem to
relieve anyone. All stared out across and beyond the Earth. The sky of day melted away into
the nothingness of below. Insane. There were stars visible but not a lot else. Hannah gripped
the deck and let out, “How the fuck had this been kept a secret? It’s not like the Americas were
a small part of the world! North America was the major power!” The captain was now in control
again. He sighed a sign of bitter relief but secretly was still shitting himself. He looked at the
map of the world. He look and he looked.
They were safely perched on the edge and had avoided going over. For now. But there
wasn’t enough power to go back against the current. It was far too strong. As night fell some
returned to relative calm. Some hit the bars. Some remained on deck. What a view. The moon
rose from below a beyond that seemed further away and more alien than anyone had
previously imagined. Greg was back in the bar. He took another cheese pretzel. He hadn’t
washed his hands after taking a piss. First time in fifty years and he didn’t give a damn.
“I can’t understand it…” he said. “It means… do you know what this means?” Nobody
knew what it meant. “It means… that everything post renaissance… maybe before… Kepler.
Newton. All wrong. Science is set back to the medieval times! What happened? It’s obviously a
conspiracy of immense proportions. Freemasons. Columbus onward…what I don’t understand
is how they kept such a big thing a secret…”
“A lot of people only see other places on TV and in the past through books. Obviously
there aren’t as many people who freely travel about the Earth as we were lead to believe.”
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

“But how come we’ve managed to break through? How come we’ve discovered this?”
“Bear in mind that we haven’t yet! To do that we still need to make it back and look at
how likely that looks right now!” There was a horrible silence throughout the room. Greg after a
long pause continued. “Just think about it. All these people who throughout the centuries since
Columbus have left for the new world. For the illusion of ‘a better life’. At first the conspirators
wouldn’t have to cover anything up. What better way to keep things quite? All they had to do
was wait for those who found out to fall off the Earth!”
“Nowadays it’s not as simple. Or maybe it’s more simple. The media and all. We’re
used to manipulation of information. Imagine if we just didn’t realise to what extent!”
“This would mean ultimately what?”
“To the universe and its structure? Or to humanity?”
“Damn the universe!” That seemed to be a common attitude all of a sudden.
“What it means is that the powers that ‘be’ are not! Or at least they’re not what they
seemed to be.”
“Meaning that the only super power on Earth is a fiction. But a fiction created by who?”
“Think about it? Who were the last world powers? Who were the ones fighting for this
supposed ‘new world’? But most importantly, how could they maintain their presence as a
power to the existing world order?”
“English and Spanish? But why? In league with each other?”
“Think about it. If they wanted to blow out of all proportion their images as world power.
What better way than to invent an entire continent, who at first they had conquered and later on
was their all powerful Allie. Think of the message this would have sent to other old world
“But this conspiracy couldn’t have been kept for long. Other countries would have
found out! It must have developed into a ruling class secret. The governments of each nation
upon finding out how well they had duped each other for at least a while must have realised
that together the same trick could work… internally.”
“Yeah the idea of a foreign super power bearing over you has had that effect or maybe
it all got out of hand? I mean… how do you explain the cold war… if America simply did not
“To hide who the main world superpowers really are? At the end of the 19th century the
British and Spanish could covertly have continued to control the world through propaganda.
The threat of a fictional all powerful nation. Just look at how the Atlantis myth has been
invoked. The Soviets would never have believed it! Or more likely they were in on it.”
“That may be why the capitalist nations really didn’t want the Bolsheviks to take power.
A working class party would destroy the balance of power as the secret would be out. The
citizens would discover all about the real world order as there was no difference between ruler
and ruled. Of course with the advent of Stalin they no longer had to worry about that!”
“What about the Stalin, Churchill, Roosevelt pact? I mean Stalin, Churchill. I mean…
does this mean there was no such person as Roosevelt? Or any other president? Oh my head!
I can’t cope!”
“Well until the captain figures something out we’re stuck here. Another round?” Greg
returned to the bar.
“This would most likely point towards Spain and more likely England as still being the
world powers. Using the shield of a none existent Allie to divert aggression and attention. Any
other ideas?”
Thurston and Grace sat out on the deck alone.
“I’m sorry about earlier y’know…” hesitated Thurston.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

“Oh what?” There was nothing between them.

“Just trying to understand all this and I think I do. We need to get back Grace! We need
to somehow get back!”
“what makes you think we ever will? A conspiracy this big? You think anyone would
survive to tell? You don’t suppose anyone has before? Just laughed at as they tell everyone
that the Earth is flat! No. we’re never going back.” Thurston took out a dollar and a peseta from
his jacket pocket. Strange to have real functioning currency from countries that didn’t exist! He
showed them to Grace. One in each hand. He closed his hands and slowly moved them behind
his back. To pull this off he had to make her believe but the trick would be on himself. He
flipped the coins between hands unknowingly to Grace. “Which hand the dollar?” she knew
what he had done she wasn’t stupid.
“The other hand! You think I’m stupid!?”
“Ah! Caught me!” He opened his hand and there it was. The dollar.
“You think you can trick me that easily!” They descended into a play fight and ended up
in each others trembling arms. But the trick had worked. He had fooled himself. Thurston
hadn’t really switched the coins. Grace had only believed he had. Then there it was.
“We need to get back Grace. We need to get back. I think I know how.”


“Look all I’m saying is that it is possible now and I’ll show you how. It wasn’t possible
before but only as we didn’t understand how the universe operates. I know how it works now. I
understand. That’s why it’s possible now.” Jicaque was right. He understood. He wasn’t
claiming to know everything. He held a tedious grasp on the English language. He didn’t know
everything there’s no such thing. But he had grasped its essence. Jicaque walked across the
garish purple carpet and onto the pink stage. He sat in a pink chair next to the purple suited
hostess. “Should have stayed at the academy in Buenos Aires…” he regretted as the
audiences applause refused to die down. “These Gringos are looped for one in their heads.”
He should talk. He was the one who had agreed to come on a TV chat show to discuss the
logistics of time travel after all. Looped in the head? Was that the point or had he missed it?
Everyone else will so it matters not.
“So… Are you from the future yourself?” joked the presenter. Applause please.
Especially laughter.
“Well there's really no such thing as the future as all time is relative. You only perceive
the present time no matter when you are. It’s more a case of making people realise how their
perceptions control their reality. All people who ever existed are alive. They’re just experiencing
different eras of history. You may very well be experiencing time ahead of me. No one
experiences the present simultaneously. But the way, in which you acted right now will be the
same as when I come to experience that moment.”
Back after the break. Is it any wonder that it’s impossible to teach these people
anything? The meaning of life cast aside for washing up liquid with extra whiteness. They don’t
understand. Their narrow ways defeat them where they stand. The blind old fool who is stealing
away the past. Well not for me. “Don’t worry sire we’ll be back on air in no time,” said the
hostess pausing as she realise how she phrased it could end up in another tirade about time.
“Gotta go,” Jicaque said jumping to his feet, “emergency…” He stepped off stage and
into a toilet cubicle. He was gone.
“That can’t be…” the hostess replied in angst upon hearing of their guests abrupt
departure. “ He’s tonights main guest, he can’t just vanish!”
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

“Maybe,” considered the assistant, “maybe the toilet cubicle was his time machine in
disguise and we’re not just talking bullshit!”
“Oh please! We run a chat show darling not the science channel. The fact that this
show is on the sci-fi channel alone shows the nature of it. It’s not real. Who cares what idiots
believe it? He went for a shit and disappeared. Great. Did you check the ladies? You know
what some of these foreigners are like…”
“He vanished! I saw him! Before my eyes I swear! That cubicle was his time machine
and now he’s gone!”
“Simpletons,” thought Jicaque. Like a time machine has to resemble a cubicle or a
phone booth! They don’t realise that if there is anything which you could call the ‘machine’ it is
the physical space in which time exists. It’s everywhere. You just need to realise. You just need
to be conscious of your direction. It’s obvious when you realise. It’s like a direction in space that
always existed but you just didn’t notice it before. Up. Down. Left. Right. We experience these
directions easily. Others… We experience time in a linear fashion cos we’re lazy. It passes and
we observe. All that is required is to realise that you can go in any direction you damn well
please. But again this is subject to the collective conscious. The true nature of reality makes it
possible only when the collective human mind makes it that way.
Jicaque took a stroll. He dropped some crumbs to the birds at his feet. By the time they
hit the ground the birds hadn’t been born. Ungrateful bastards everywhere. Their mother
should be sorry she ever… wait. Jicaque passed a Nazi bomber pelting the shit out of London.
He walked into Torner's bedroom. He was too late. It was before the grey aliens ever took her.
But the grey aliens could see him. He could see them too. They were on board their cigar
shaped UFO. As it flew passed he choked a lung or two. No wonder they’re here. Flying those
damn things… they must experiment on us to find a cure for their cancer. New design is what
they need. If Kenneth Arnold hadn’t have said that they were saucer shaped they wouldn’t have
been. The flying cigar flew ever upwards. It began to converse with the cloud beings. The cloud
beings are sentient lighter than air species who patrol the outer atmosphere. Shoes. Bright red
shoes. They asked the cigar ship how good it would be to wear bright red shoes. Until the
Soviet spy plane suddenly broke all altimeter records. Dispersed to the winds. Solar
corpuscular radiated haggis. Irradiated Armstrong. Propaganda on a plate. No wonder he quit
when he returned to Earth. The stereo can be quite profound when it’s not tuned in properly.
You should never have torn it up you know. You should never have torn up that ticket. Next time
take the bottle home with you. All too easy to regret you know. The bad guy from the titanic
movie jumped from the window. Couldn’t live without his capital. Wall street was no longer on
the wall. Marx bragging in his grave “I told you so…” Until the world war arrived to make him
eat his hat. Destruction. Waste. Can’t live without it. By now London had been rebuilt but there
was now a new form of terror. Don’t forget and we won’t remind you in spades. The blimps. The
strange areal blimps, which somehow avert their terrestrial bounds. Mustard gas. Too much will
get up your ancestors noses. These strange areal creatures will stop at nothing. I can tell you
they’re from no world of mine. Blimps? Those aren’t blimps! Was it the greys? The Bolsheviks?
The Hun? The freemasons say who wants it. I think it’s me. Inside the nightmares begin to
gather. But no time yet to express these feelings for real. Only radio. No matter. Rely on Latin if
all else fails. To be preserved for posterity. I stand by the port yard. Everything that matters has
crumbled. Like the ruins that are ignored. London in ruins again. Not since 1066 I tell you. For
the homeland! Freedom or death! Take your sides. Take your pills. Put that under your pillow
for when the time comes. Till you feel all warm and safe inside. Rotten commies. Behind it all I
bet. Want to ruin everything I tell you. But its all part of the plan. And they’re not even behind it.
Freemasons don’t hold up the coat of alms for nothing. And don’t trust the skies. I don’t even
look up anymore. Strange report in anybodies book. The radio free Havana club finally tuned
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

in. they’re here. A bay full of pigs is all that stands in the way of truth and democracy. You tell
the Greeks that. They wouldn’t understand what real democracy is about anyway. No ambition.
Queen Victoria wetting her pants or was it George Lincoln? Fucking Americans always have to
set everything in New York. Strange creatures from outer space. Threatening apple pie as we
know it again. What plan are they on by now? Leave a slice for granny or we’ll never see it
through. Orson Welles back on the radio by popular demand. Queen Victoria on cable TV “My
fellow Britons…” Did they come from Mars? Or further out to the stars? Invasion of the saucer
men! Set for stun and laser them! You should never have married that guy from Kansas. The
police will stop them at all costs. Dragons breath only hot fire you know. There’s no other kind.
Prometheus was talking rubbish. But our boys in blue pack hot leaver too y’now. The dragons
embraced the winds and headed straight for the white house. Seen it all before. They repeated
it last week on the sci-fi channel. Doesn’t mean it didn’t really happen. But it not the same with
the fucking adverts though. Buy it on DVD if they only release it. Swift footed Achilles was our
last chance but he’s already dead. Shoot the alien fiends machines of doom in their mechanical
heels. That should do the trick. Ulysses’ Trojan horse ploy vs. the Martian invaders. Dragons on
a spit roast. Martians die of the common cold. Hand them a tissue they only invaded Earth in
order to ‘liberate’ us. Martians believe in god and the free market too y’now. Hit the reverse. It’s
like flexing a wrist. Involuntarily trying not to blink as you stroke your finger across your eye
ball. Jicaque was getting tired but also the hang of it now. Like riding a bike none handed for
the first time. Difficult to turn around when you’ve gone too far. He came back around in the
nick of time. He was beginning to comprehend more fully the true nature of the universe first
hand. Like eating leftovers from gods own plate. He leaves enough surely. Too much ambrosia
cannot be good for you. Even if you have an omnipotent stomach. I won’t rest until my task is
complete. The president announced the emperors decree on nation wide TV. From now on a
true and faithful faith will be had by all believers. You’re a believer too aren’t you?
Fundamentalist forces had long been in power by this point. Jicaque rematerialised in the
recent past. What year is it? Who’s the president? The bible isn’t a laughing matter young man.
He suddenly realised. They were right they were right all along. Right wing and correct in
conduct. The president used the photo-op to lay bones with the emperor. Dinosaurs never
roamed the Earth you fucking idiot. They’re right. They were right al along. No one was there to
experience dinosaurs but we only experience their bones. Does that mean they were real?
Who’d fall for a trick like that? Didn’t even have to attend the lectures. Don’t forget to make a
donation on the way out. The emperor had seen to it. The bibles not just a story you know. You
think someone made all that up? Novelists didn’t exist until the time of the industrial revolution!
It’s a well established fact. It wasn’t in their mindset before hand. Made up stories indeed! All
that exists is the text. The world is only how we understand the printed page. Didn’t your
parents teach you anything? The emperor passed clause 19. the emperors people are a kindly
lot but if anybody messes with their own… Homeland security you see. It’s your duty after all
not your responsibility. But if the bible is for real how come the Earth is round? Damn kids.
Have to question everything. Ruin everything they will. The president should have got the
emperor to do the school thing. It was his area of expertise after all. The conscious mind rules
all. And the collective conscious minds rule all absolutely. Talk about gradual change. Jicaque
walked through the class room. The emperor was reading. “Quiet!” He walked on through
classrooms in Houston to class rooms in florida. If you interpret one more time I’ll have to start
again thank you very much pleaded the president with concern. Stand outside but don’t watch
the other kids playing ball. Down to the bike sheds. Too much hash will not look good second
period. Should have spent my weeks lunch money on comics. Head began to swim. The smell
of nicotine in the air. Innocent enough. Could have sworn UFO’s were saucer shaped. The
cigar flew down to observation distance. Damn Cubans will stop at nothing to assassinate the
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

president. The smoke filled the air above. The gap between the bike shed and the wall was
closing in. whistles blowing in the mind. Jicaque’s own mirror of darkness was draining spirals
of self contempt. Should definitely have bought comics. He walked on towards a school in
Michigan. By now it was too late. Human consciousness shapes reality. He understood all.
Jicaque could hear the emperors voice from within. He could see a ship in the distance through
the smoke from the UFO. He could smell the hash now. He could see a guy onboard the ship
looking towards him through binoculars. He was receiving head by the expression on his face.
The smoke got worse. Happens every time. Just when you are about to leave someone has to
role another one. All about him evaporated in smoke. Nothing was left but memory. Boy was he
hungry. The ship drew nearer, but that was nothing to do with this. Mention this to me. It’s over.
Jicaque pulled the lavatory chain and opened the door. He washed his hands and walked back
into the studio.


“We need to get back Grace, we need to get back.” Grace held Thurston in her arms
and couldn’t let go. She couldn’t think of a way to go back. She held tighter. Thurston couldn’t
think of a way to get back either. Neither could he stop fiddling with the thong in his jacket
pocket. He kissed Grace gently on her neck and ran his nose softly from the edge of her cheek
bone up to her ear.
“What’s going on?” Grace asked.
“What? I thought you were... I mean...”
“No, no! That’s fine!” She kissed him on the lips and gave him a comfortingly blank
stare. “No, I mean all this stuff...” She looked out across the expanse of void, which had almost
engulfed them.
“Everyone seems to think that it’s just that we didn’t realise the Earth was flat and that
somehow we’ve been tricked... I’m not so sure, it may be more complex than that.”
“Oh great...”
“I’ve been noticing things recently. About the world I mean. It’s hard to explain. Come
on. Lets go inside. Fancy a drink?”
“You wanna miss this?”
“I know... It’s gotta be pretty terrible when the most amazing view is the edge of
nothingness.” They entered the bar. It didn’t take anybodies best bet to guess what the topic
being discussed was.
“But I still don’t understand. If the Earth is flat fair enough. But how come all the water
is flowing over? Surely that can’t go on for long!”
“Socrates once spoke of underground waterways or something I think...”
“Yes he did!”
“... I know, but what he spoke was...”
“The rate the water is flowing away at would indicate that there has been some sort of
climatic change, maybe recently.”
“Oh! And I suppose the Americas just ‘fell off’ the side of the Earth? Bravo! Anybody for
another drink? Listen to us! We obviously need more!”

“What have you noticed recently?” asked Grace.

“Things... about the world. It’s like... it doesn’t conform in the way an independent
reality should do. It’s like that which people think in the majority turns out to be the case...
regardless of the facts.”
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

“That would indicate that the world is subjective and not objective as previously
“What does that mean?”
“I mean that there have been several theories about the world and how it operates.
There’s the ontological perspective, well... it’s not a perspective... that’s the point. The
ontological view is that the world exists in itself. Outside of how we experience it. This forms a
good backbone to keep the universe in some sort of order. Then there’s the phenomenological
perspective, which deals with how we experience the world regardless of nature in itself. It has
perviously the accepted norm that the world existed ontologically yet we were forced to
perceive it phenomenologically. This is the problem that theorists like Immanuel Kant tried to
resolve when he sort to understand the world ‘in itself’ instead of merely through the
perceptions of our senses… of course… this proved impossible. But it was always considered
that this world ‘in itself’ did still exist. Well just imagine… imagine if the ontological nature of the
universe were to break down?”
“what? And peoples subjective perceptions came to form reality?”
“All hell! We are talking all hell breaking loose!”
“How could that happen? The basic principles that define the universe can’t just
change that easily surely? What could case something like this?”
“Maybe it didn’t. Maybe the universe has always been phenomenological. Maybe we
just didn’t realise.”
“Human history has been characterised by strict adherence to religious or scientific
beliefs, which the majority have never questioned. Until recently. It’s only in the last century that
individual human values have gained precedence.”
“This would point to the true evolution of the world being merely the evolution of the
human mind. Throughout different ages the world gradually changes and evolves along with
and in conformity to the human understanding of it.”
“We do not know a sun or an Earth, only eyes that see a sun and hands that feel an
Earth, as Schopenhauer would say…”
“So why are we only just noticing this?”
“Maybe cos we’re coming to the peak of understanding? To realise the true nature of
the cosmos?”
“Bullshit! More likely it is the absolute poverty of new ideas in recent times, which has
caused it all to fall apart! We live in a world with no concrete truths, everyone has different
beliefs. But none of these beliefs are new they’re just jumbled together elements of what has
gone before. The world around us is merely the consequence of our fractured belief systems!”
“So in a world without any ultimate truth… there’s no reason why the Earth shouldn’t
be flat after all? We do live in a world that seems to embrace contradiction.”
“Well… if someone doesn’t solve the problem of nihilism pretty soon… we’re gonna
find ourselves falling into a very real void! But if this…”
“This is rot! All rot! What are we talking about? Just listen to us! I mean, if what we’re
suggesting is true… why can’t I refill this pint just by believing it is? Open my eyes like, and
drink up!?”
“It makes no sense! I don’t think anyone person seems able to influence the world. Not
consciously. It seems to involve the collective unconscious.”
“And if any of this is any more than the drink talking… is there anything we can do
about it? Are we in some shitty film about the power of faith all of a sudden? I mean do we just
sit back and wait for our sense of belief to fly the fucking boat all the way home?” Everyone
paused. It didn’t seem as simple as that. Theory and practice always work well in theory but not
in practice.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

“This is rot! Who here believes in a flat Earth? Who?”


Jicaque walked out through the studio audience. He felt sick. He needed a smoke. His
head was still buzzing from his last trip but he couldn’t believe it. But now things were scaling
beyond the imaginings of your nightmares. And it was these imaginings collective or not which
were becoming more and more the problem. Your fucking husband raped me the other night.
Don’t say you didn’t know. The police won’t go to market for their pay role substitute and
neither should you. The Seahawks won the super bowl again third year in a row. Or was it the
bears? I saw them last week on through the key hole. Such lovely boys. They were fighting
over which one of them lived in a house like that. Nationalise the economy. There are no
human rights violations in the eastern hemisphere. It was read in a book somewhere or was it
on the internet? Only last week there was a sighting. The Dark Knight detective hosting a gala
tribute to the late Ronald Reagan. They’re in on it together you know. President Luther and the
emperor have got a plan to over throw the USSR. Putin and Gorbie are unleashing their
hounds across Europe as we speak. The Berlin wall was only torn down for transportation brick
by brick to Constantinople. Can’t trust ‘em. Jicaque walked on through the streets of London. A
bunch of Germans saluted. The statue of the Fuher. In Times square. They were dressed in
their Hitler youth best. Brits will believe anything. Ontology broke down. Subjective truth had
come to rule over the physical universe. Did you smell that French man? Fucking disgusting.
This is London after all. It was getting worse. The gullibility of peoples nature didn’t help. It was
time the Prime Minister addressed the nation. A frightened nation. Don’t read the sun it’ll only
make things worse. And they will be worse not just seem worse. Did you read your horoscope
this morning? I’m gonna win the lottery tonight. It’s a cert. I don’t even have to buy a ticket!
Dad’s gonna die tomorrow but what the hell? It’s fate. Can’t complain about that! Mine said I’d
meet a beautiful blond brunette yesterday. I didn’t even even need to go out and find one. She
just turned up. I didn’t get to leave the house that day (the horoscope said I wouldn’t how can I
argue with that?) I was so busy and even busier when she appeared! Sunday tomorrow. Don’t
forget to go to church on Sundays. Tomorrow. Down to the tracks. No.6. it’s a sure bet. You
want to put the grocery money on it honey? It’s all in the book you know. It’s all there. The
world conforms to the dictionary. All the world is flux. All that exists is the text. Derrida as dead
as Heraclitus. It makes no difference which is present. Living or dead. Sleeping or waking
young or old. Plagiarism is only for the greats. The true genius in the face of reason. It’s
perfectly plausible. Any argument has its validity. Dialectics will never be defeated by the boring
states of affairs. Ever again. Was certain there was a cease to the end. But it continues. The
end will not end. Perpetuating post everything.
Jicaque sat on a park bench. Some birds were eating crumbs at his feet. What he had
experienced on his jaunt through time had seemed utter absurdity, but this? Jicaque’s trip
through time had confirmed that how people perceive phenomena had a direct bearing of its
actuality throughout those eras. But now perceptions were beginning to shift at an incredible
rate. What he had seen so far had seemed fantastic yet it was mainly because he was seeing
many different eras juxtaposed together. Now however the present was taking on a similar
disharmony. Now the pliability of reality was becoming constantly obvious. History book altering
events were occurring much faster. Perceptions were fragmenting further and shifting by the
minute. “It won’t be long. It won’t.” You slept with that little tart didn’t you? Oh no you don’t! Is
there a baby? Well you’d better get to it then. I hear murder burger are hiring. A good calf or
two you’ve got on ya. The baby wasn’t his. It wasn’t any-ones. He gave her a kiss. They were
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

13 years old. They were in a corn field. He gave her a kiss. She gave him a kiss. She gave him
a hand job. Didn’t get any on her I swear. Pregnant? The rest of them. They’re the ones. Alice
is still a virgin. So was I. It was the rest of them that done it. The rest of them dirty story tellers
with their dirty lies. They should father the brat. Alice was still a virgin the doctors confirmed it
But the baby was still there. Is it a boy? Is it a girl? It’s a boy. Everyone expects a boy. Sexist
arse holes everywhere. The boy is a genius though. Playing football already. He’s only the goal
keeper. Likes to throw himself about a bit. Got a bit of a martyr complex about him if you ask
me. Boy hasn’t he grown! What a sprouter! Doctors say sprouts do nothing for your metabolism
but what do they know? Don’t believe that at all. Already doing well at school he is. Writing
conspiracy books about the lizard masters of planet Earth. The emperor gave him a distinction
for that one. The president was due at his book signing but had to shy off with nappy rash. I’m
proud of the boy. But the stuff didn’t touch her I swear.
The lizard masters of the Earth were in a heated presidential debate with the emperor.
Sugar rations could make more profits under the bi partisan agreement of last week. Workers
rights won’t be trampled on this time. Proletarian class consciousness. For a socialist states of
Europe. But the capitalist oppressors would not relinquish their dominance over the means of
production that easily. The lizard masters unleashed their troops across the continent to deal
with the commie menace. Want to destroy everything. The emperor guaranteed a robust
presence across the face of the Earth. Too late to save the yanks. Putin and Gorbie were
determined to open a second front on the East coast. But reports started coming in that there
no longer was an east coast. Coast to coast contradiction with host Domingo Santana. The red
guard looked out across the Siberian plane. Sure Japan used to be out there. Sure it was. The
Siberian wilderness now ended in a shear cliff edge. Beyond which was no return. So much for
the second front. Oh well back to Moscow. “We wish you a red Christmas. We wish you a red
Christmas we wish you a red Christmas and a progressive good cheer. No illusions we bring.
So down with your king. We wish you a red Christmas and a progressive new year…”

Open the prisons or rather don’t. There is no need. If there is anything conceivable to
the human mind it’s freedom after all. But not just the human mind. Animals don’t necessarily
have the cognitive ability to conceive yet you’d be surprised how many people think they do.
Inmates in the street. Make them fight with lions. They were both better off behind bars. The
lions finish the task but not all lions can be super lions, but some people believe they’re
superhuman. Especially criminals. To wrestle a lion is to your own personal advantage. No
need for spectators. It’s like play fighting a pillow but with razor sharp feathers. Blood isn’t real
and neither are carcasses. The fiesta continued. No need to bring the fresh article we’ve got
tomatoes of the tinned variety. Much more trusty in your hand when its lions with which you’re
fighting. Who’d buy fresh tomatoes when you can have proper tinned ones? The real article is
all that will suffice in this battle to the death. Idealists aside. It’s all in the mind. X exists after all.
All is x. Lions exist too and so does pain. It was the lions that told me that. But lions can feel
pain as well and lions can be killed. I’d never have imagined it myself but everyone considers
himself to be an Overman deep down where it’s cosy inside. Especially criminals. Lions are
killed. It’s easy enough to say. It’s easy enough in practice. It’s even easier to believe. Not the
same as with the unicorns though. How come people get capital letters but not animals? Fair
means or foul blame the spell check. Lions can be killed but that doesn’t necessarily mean that
they exist. Unicorns can be thought of. It’s possible. Imaginary things can have real being too.
Not to mention feelings. Fucking metaphysicians they’ll ruin everything. The centaurs began to
round up their numbers. Where was it? Can never find the right page when you need it. The
unicorns were keen to avoid the council estates. The centaurs are too suspicious there. You’re
better off facing the lions. But lions are extinct so it’s on to the next species. Write to your local
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

MP to complain about that one. Rebecca went out late that night. Too many centaurs having a
barbecue. It was the evening classes that done it. Never get out bed before her boyfriend gets
back from work. Rebecca didn’t believe in lions but she knew someone who swore he saw one.
Rebecca was a vegetarian. All those carcasses in the street have to signify something. Her
finger was still sore from where she’d been writing too intently the night before. Have to hold
the pen all weird or invent a new finger glove one. All has already been done or so the emperor
would like you to think. Its very funny how he and the president managed to survive what
happened anyway. “Wipe that smirk off your face!” said Rebecca to the centaur as she passed
in the street. Unicorns have feelings, it’s true, but centaurs don’t. X. All is x. she strode on down
the street. X? She should have paid attention in those damned algebra classes. Rebecca
entered class. Always late, always late and nowhere to sit. All the chairs unfortunately were out.
Better things to do than sit around in class. I’d get pissed off too if I was a chair. Always
expected to stand. Nothing to sit on. It’s only common courtesy surely? Some people. Some
people will believe anything. But chairs don’t respect that. Always gallivanting about. Some
chairs were in the canteen having a fag. The others were off sick. Stacked up in a corner, the
fucking perverts will do it anywhere. Rebecca caught the bus home from college. It was on time
as always. You can’t trust centaurs at this time of night. Her coat shivered in the cold as she
came in from it. It’s just as cold inside as out. The public always manage to find a way to
criticise public transport no matter how good the system is. She unzipped her coat and let her
long legs breath. The zip got caught in the material halfway. The coat cried out in pain. What a
baby! Be careful next time thought the coat but not in English. Coats don’t speak English. You
can’t prove it. Try it. Just try it. You can’t prove anything these days. All you can do is sit at
home and think about it. There was a beautiful spring stream at the end of the road. The bus
passed it on it route but no one pays attention these days. Plough away the concrete it’s good
as new. Not the same though. The water trickled to and fro in and out of plastic bottles. It
doesn’t work by magic though and nature won’t lift a damn finger when it comes to surplus
value deficits. The water company began hiring Umpa-Lumpas for the most manual of the
labour. Cheaper than doing it in China or Uzbekistan. The benefits of globalisation. Don’t say it
hasn’t benefited you. Charlie was such a loser. No head for business. It wasn’t like this back in
the good old days. Umpa-Lumpas wouldn’t have been able to form their own trade unions
under Wonka's thumb. Where will it lead to next? The unicorn ran on through the beautiful
stream like it was contracted to. Like in the script. Beautiful but off sick tomorrow. You should
never actually drink the stuff. It’s a commodity like any other serves it right. But there aren’t as
many Umpa-Lumpa hermaphrodites as there are chairs. The unicorn had finished filming the
water ad. Coast to coast TV but only the channels that we don’t pay for. Resentiment of the
down trodden. The Umpa-Lumpas were working twenty-hour shifts. Both day and night. Have
to have the promotion ready in time for the TV ads to hit our screens. One fucking unicorn
getting paid more than the entire work force. Some Umpa-Lumpas were on strike. Others didn’t
have Umpa-Lumpa class-consciousness and carried on. The unicorn splashed out through the
other side of the stream. What majesty! I hear Guinness are hiring them next. Gonna be a star.
You know you are. The water continued to splash at the unicorn’s feet as the Umpa-Lumpas
continued to bottle the stuff back stage. The unicorn ran out through the streets. Don’t they
understand a thing? A picket line means do not cross! Equal rights for Umpa-Lumpas! Abolish
the racist 40-hour day! The emperor would never have been able to stay in power for so long if
they ever got the vote. It certainly wasn’t like this in Wonka’s day. All must be brought to a
head. And all is x. The Umpa-Lumpas called a general strike and marched on Downing Street.
Freedom or death! Some however would far sooner earn an honest wage for an honest days
pay. Didn’t daddy-lumpa tell you your place in life boy? See how many bundles of linen you can
exchange for that kind of wage labour. You were better off making chocolate. A guerrilla
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

campaign is never easy you know. It’s not like there’s a huge tropical forest complex along side
the Thames. The emperor was on his state visit to reassure the prime minister and the
population. As if things weren’t bad enough as it was. Just because the fabric of reality is falling
apart, that’s no excuse for social unrest or civil disobedience. The emperor promised a robust
presence on the island nation and if that failed to work he could just nuke the fuckers. Who do
they think they are? The emperor didn’t want to lose his 52nd state especially as he had just lost
the other 51 to biblical thinking. Don’t mention that in the official press release. By now the
Umpa-Lumpas had committed to the final storming of No.10. The emperor announced a
declaration of war if the Umpa-Lumpas should seize power. But it was civil war that was now
defining reality. The majority of the centaurs sided with the emperor as did the unicorns. The
shits want to destroy the way of life as we know it. Don’t know their place. By now the
international scene was in disarray. Putin and Gorbie denied all allegations that they were
behind the uprising. Besides they had things to worry about in their own back yard. Half of
Siberia had just disappeared. Where would all the reactionaries go on holiday now? No fine
dachas for them in Georgia. Thousands of miles of beautiful scenery and unspoiled oil pipe
lines. It had all ceased to exist.
“Nothing in logic is accidental,” read Rebecca, “If a thing can occur in a state of affairs,
its possibility must be written into the thing itself.” But the thing itself had never been properly
defined and now it was too late. The Umpa-Lumpas stormed into No.10 on the first week of
Ockober. The prime minister would have refused the blindfold but the emperor helped him
escape overseas. Common ownership of the means of production achieved. Back to work at
the water plant on Monday. The provisional government of the United Komune issued the new
constitution within the week. It was just long enough for the Queen to get her cv together. The
civil war escalated as the unicorns and centaurs and other forces loyal to the emperor battled
Umpa-Lumpas, chairs and other material objects fighting for their acceptance as subjects. But
the unicorns weren’t going to give up their hard won property that easily. No more running
through streams for you. The Queen found a very nice council flat in East London. She had
secretly always wanted to sell shoes so all was probably for the best. All Charlie's fault. No
head for business.
Most Umpa-Lumpas went back to work on Monday. It was now red Monday for a
completely different reason. Rebecca went back to college on Tuesday, but she now had to
share the class with chairs instead of sitting on them. Civil rights movement gone too far. Buck
palace was now a hostel whilst West Minister Abbey was mainly used for soup kitchen
purposes. The elite with minestrone on their graves. Rebecca had been class mates with the
boy before the revolution but now he had become a teacher. He had issues though. Always
kept banging on about his real dad and how all this turbulence occurring in the world was
merely a sign of his immanent return. His theory of the lizard masters aside, the boy sure had
father issues. He was a bright kid but he just couldn’t get over it. “You’re not stringing me up
this time you old codger…” you’d catch him mumbling or “I’m nobodies fucking scapegoat…”
The boy began teaching at Big Ben High. Although Rebecca had serious doubts about his
methods. Feed the mind, feed the stomach. He kept pulling that bread trick everyday before
Math class. Like no-ones seen that one before. The provisional government announced that
they were going to end illiteracy in the United Komune by the end of the month. I’d like to see
that one done. But the way the boy teaches that’s not education. Seminars on the lizard
masters and the immanent return of dear daddy to set things right again. Basic grammar. A, B,
C, bollocks! As if B came after A! What are they? fucking numbers?! Someone taught you the
alphabet like it was a song or something? Well sing it to me. Sing it to me in E minor. Its only
music letters that are like numbers after all. Letters can only have meaning in words. The
alphabet! What a thing! Are you stupid or something? Imagine believing in the alphabet! But the
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

provisional governments literary drive was running into problems. The more people learnt the
more they thought. The more they thought the more ideas they began to believe. The more
they believed the more random stuff came into the phenomenal world of our perceptions. All is
x don’t forget. But x now became manifest. Non a priori, non-metaphysical numbers and letters.
Such logic propositions ceased to be abstract and became empirical. You’d think in a classless
society like the one just created by the provisional government inequality would have become a
thing of the past. But the eternal striving of minority against majority did not vanish. It took on a
new form. Now a previously unknown form of class antagonism started to show itself. All was x.
all is x. all became x. it all began and would end with x. X became empirical and ceased to be a
representation of the physical. As a consequence A ceased to represent the subject and
became a subject unto itself. T ceased to represent time and instead became subservient to its
whims. It wasn’t long before empiric algebra joined the chairs, coats and other material objects
in the world as conscious beings no longer in disguise. But the alphabet is a limited class
minority. No matter how fast they breed, and they do seem to be the most asexual of species,
nor how interbred the letters became there could never be more than 24 racial types of letters.
The numbers followed suite into empirical existence, dragged kicking and screaming out of the
metaphysical and into the phenomenal world. Numbers. Slappers that they are. They bred and
bred. Now even the most extreme left wingers were complaining about over population and
immigration. But now we understood why people are so sex obsessed. Maths rules the
universe and numbers are the embodiment of reproduction. Over population. The crisis of our
times. Send them all to Australia with all the other criminals like in the good old days. Did I
suggest they’re criminal? I don’t see much difference. Not like they were even born here.
They’re not even from this dimension. Who do they think they are? Galavanting into our
dimension and taking our jobs? They should send the lot of them to Japan or something where
they’re used to it. Can’t fault the British for ingenuity or forward finking. But Australia was no
longer part of the empire thanks to the revolution and Japan… well there’s no such thing
anymore. Does anyone have a spare copy of any ancient Roman maps? They’re suddenly in
practical demand again!

The metaphysical turning physical was not the only problem. I know it’s a big one, I
mean have you ever had to share a student flat with a letter Q? they never shut the fuck up.
Night and day I swear. Even question marks are hanging about the place and throwing what
little certainty was left in the world into chaos. Why? Why does the why never arise? Why?
Doubts in the sky? Does the sun shine on high? I’m not a racist but you try living with the
bastards. Comedy clubs were seized with the new sensational acts of exclamation marks. All
they did was stand there. Stand there. Funniest thing I ever saw. No. the new metaphysical
population was the least of our worries. The boy gave a seminar on it in class. He was only the
first to experience a second coming. Pretty soon everyone was being reincarnated, and as
famous people are generally the most longed after it was they that predominantly returned.
Lovers were reunited. Socialist new Jerusalem in the UK baby. A.J. and Ludwig were amongst
the first to be reborn. It wasn’t long before they were suing everyone for plagiarism. Does
anybody have any new ideas? Nothing but scorn for his own era but look at what has become
of the future! This was supposed to be my future! President Luther funded the emperors coup
attempt to oust the Umpa-Lumpas from office. Shits with all the big connections in the UK. The
Justice League of America were the first to sign up for the mission. How did they survive? Most
of them aren’t even American mind you. Of not from. The mission however was doomed to
failure from the start. Clark was unfortunately in court that week and couldn’t attend the coup
attempt. Clark and Adolf were in the docks together. Since his reincarnation Fritz had decided
also to sue. He was suing Adolf for damages and Clark for the title he used for his alter ego.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

Fritz was insulted at the credibility his ideas had lost at the hands of these buffoons yet they
had suffered irreparably more from the mere fact of his reincarnation. Fritz however called the
trial off when he realised he had inadvertently aided the United Komune. Yet he wasn’t going to
let the infidels off the hook. Adolf and Clark combined their journalistic and artistic skills and
called themselves in some what poor but in keepingly Fascist taste, ‘The Worlds Finest’. Bruce
never spoke to Clarke again. Jealous. But the adventures of the worlds finest super team came
to no avail. Fritz retired to the mountains of Bavaria after they had settled the issue out of court.
Adolf was forbidden access, nor to set foot 100miles anywhere near Bavaria. I hear he since
found employment as the emperors secretary.
Rebecca was becoming worried about the boy. He had been following Fritz’s court
battle against Adolf and Clarke quite intently. She could understand him sticking up for clark
but, she knew it was prejudiced to hold someone to account for mass murder in a previous life.
But Adolf simply wasn’t the kind of person for whom you stood up for. Especially if you were in
charge of Komune education. The boy really didn’t like Fritz. “That fucker!” he would scream in
an uproar. By this point Rebecca had left her boy friend and was living with the boy. How did it
happen? She didn’t remember. “That fucker! That fucker killed my dad!” Rebecca found herself
spending more and more time alone. The boy departed on a trip to the Bavarian mountains to
confront Fritz. There were no longer ships leaving the UK but the boy shrugged his shoulders
as he walked out across the English channel. As he wandered amongst the waves he
reconsidered all that he had left behind. It seemed that it would be a fleeting journey and yet
somehow he knew he would never return. He made his way inland and through unspoilt
mountain forests. He heard the sound of birds in the distance and closer by the sound of pan
pipes. A strange hoofed creature hopped into the fray. Pausing with a look of mocking sarcasm
upon its goat like features it hopped out again. The boy could hear the pipes fade away. Fade
to silence until only the birds were left to the ear. He found Fritz’s log cabin atop an
embankment overlooking a huge mountain lake. Fritz was outside fishing. They both turn in
correspondence to one another’s presence. They caught one another’s eyes. A feeling of
mutual harmony and understanding ensured before deep regret for the inevitable unleashment
of gauntlets that was an inevitability. Fritz offered the boy something to eat.
“No thanks. Vegetarian.”
“Oh come on! Half your mates were fisher men in the old days!”
“No that’s bloody Paul telling his dirty little lies as usual”
“If that’s so why didn’t you return then? To set things right?”
“Believe me I would have if it was possible, it’s only become possible now. Don’t you
think I would have if I could? Just to wring that little shits neck?”
“How humanitarian! Still, all is different now. Eternal recurrence indeed. In fact, that’s a
book I always meant to write…”
they entered the log cabin. Fritz had been making a lot of friends since his return.
Johnny Rotten was sat by the fire along side Richard Strauss. Jim Morrison was trying to get
Alfred Hitchcock drunk whilst Will Self looked on in amusement. Fritz had already threatened to
kick the lot of them out, or to just leave himself.
“I shall return when they no longer have need of me…” he muttered as he walked out
in disgust. Fritz understood. He had anticipated the last great crisis that humanity had faced.
The crisis of Nihilism at the turn of the last century. He also understood what must be done to
avert the next great cataclysm, and the boy would play a pivotal role. Outside in the fresh
mountain air he and the boy discussed what must be done. The boy didn’t agree with Fritz
about a thing.
“I’m sorry,” he said. That was all he said.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

“The approaching era it seems will be no renaissance then…” Fritz trailed off in
thought, “You have to understand, about your dad I mean, it was necessary for the people to
fully realise themselves…”
“It’s irrelevant really,” replied the boy, “all you did really was send him away. But he’s on
his way. All this chaos. Right now. It’s all a sign of his return…”
“Then it seems it is I that am truly sorry… take the southern route back. I’m sure you’ll
find your way.” The boy ignored Fritz’s advice. He removed his sandals and headed out across
the lake. Fritz headed back to the cabin and confiscated the guitar with which Strauss was
teaching Johnny Rotten. Strauss took up the piano instead. As he hit the first notes of
Wagner’s Parsifal, Fritz stormed out in a terrible rage. It seemed that the coming age would
have no need of him. Even as his self styled disciples continued to play his song. Fritz returned
to his room there he found a bottle of wine and his sister below the covers.

Across the far side of the lake amongst clouds of mist the boy could hear chanting. He
could hear music. He could hear revelry. He thought it was Great Pan again for a moment. He
began to understand the old goat. He was one of his kind after all. He was almost a
grandfather or at least grandfather in law. The smell of grapes hit him. Fresh grapes. It was
invigorating he almost lost his footing on the lake. The smell was almost intoxicating as the boy
reached the shore. He emerged at the lakeside with a desperate thirst. He could now smell the
intoxicating nectar with insane vigour. A small band of young maidens emerged from within the
forest. They walked casually up to him. He watched their every movement. Their hips draped in
satin stained with dark red wine. Their arms as they drew closer. Their fingers as they drew
closer still. All the while the maiden caressed him gently a second band of maidens appeared
all the while playing the dithyramb. That was the sound of music he could hear from across the
lake. The sound that drove his ears to frenzy just as the wine drove his tongue. More maidens
approached completely off their faces from the sweet wines they had been consuming. By now
the boy was completely surrounded. The heat they were bringing to bear on him was
overwhelming all his senses. He was now being led into the forest embraced within them.
Caressing his soft skin. His erect nipples. His growing rough beard. Deep into the forest they
forced him deeper within themselves. Deeper into their young flesh. By now another band of
maidens had appeared bearing their breasts and more red wine. They poured the silky
substance all over him as they moved back and forth in ecstasy. The boy could feel himself
coming apart both mentally and physically. He was held aloft by certain of the maidens as the
others forced themselves down upon him in rhythmic synchronism from above. “Father… o
father please…” he begged. He seemed to be ascending higher and higher into the air as more
and more maidens kept appearing from amongst the trees. As their young bodies quivered with
orgasm their limbs began to turn to bark. The boy was thrust ever upwards as their entwined
bodies sprouted and grew in spiralling branches. He was now becoming entirely encased in
flesh and wood. Pinned in place by what had previously been their embracing thighs he began
to run red. Their orifices began to seep with blood and the red wine that they had been
consuming. Having become so intoxicated from the wine and the intense odours it produced he
remained bound. The former maidens began to merge into one cohesively huge tree. It was
now growing high above the rest of the forest. Their finger tips now branches and twigs still
continued to caress him as the tree continued its growth rapidly ascending beyond all limits.
His arms and legs were pinned in place and began to break as he lost consciousness in the
upper atmosphere. He could sense him. The Omnipresence was returning. As he looked on
above the earth the Omnipresence spoke unto him.
“Dad? Is that you?” 2000 years worth of pocket money all at once. Think about it. The
omnipresence did not respond it just looked. It looked and it looked and it looked. It looked and
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

you knew. It didn’t need eyes for you to feel the scope of its sight, which penetrated your very
being. The Omnipresence was on its way back. I hope we haven’t been a disappointment. Do
you think we’ve done okay?


Grace felt it first. On board ship supplies were running low. So perhaps it was just as
well that the ship finally plunged off the face of the Earth. Grace shit herself metaphorically.
Thurston shit himself not just metaphorically. The fatal moment passed. Water flew
everywhere. Everything flew everywhere. Everyone flew everywhere. Many who happened to
be on the outer deck simply lost their grip and flew off disappearing into the nothingness below.
But falling to your death is just like anything else. It soon becomes a tedious chore if it doesn’t
end soon enough. That’s the problem with falling through the infinite. You just keep falling.
Imagine just falling forever. It isn’t that bad really until you need to piss. Which unfortunately
almost everyone onboard needed to do straight away. As with anything sooner or later life
begins to go on as normal. The surface of the Earth soon passed from view and for the first
hour or two the ship would occasionally tilt drastically or worse would bounce off the side of the
Earth’s strata. It seemed that if there was a bottom of the Earth it was at least fairly deep down.
After a few hours the very limit of the Earths underside came into view. It too soon zoomed out
of view. That was it. That was that. Over and out of view. Their last physical link with the Earth
that had spawned them. It was to be the last point of reference for some weeks that they would
have in order to determine just how fast they were moving.
“It’s amazing how easily you get used to anything. Just falling forever…” said Grace,
“In many ways it’s no different to normal life…” Indeed life went on onboard ship. Many had
been convinced that they faced immanent doom. Yet it was when they came to terms with the
possibility that there really was nothing out there that they were likely to collide with, that they
became even more perturbed by the idea of just falling forever. Or at least until supplies ran
out. Which they already had done. Jacob took over the captains journal after the captain
realised that there was no longer any real need for a captain. Jacob kept order onboard and to
a certain extent there was little disturbance. Jacob set up his telescope on the cabin roof. It
was now fairly stable to roam about out side no one had fell over board for a couple of weeks
now. He could see the Earth in the distance contrasted against a black drop of blackness. The
stars still seemed to shine and so did the sun, which was ever-present.

There was something about the sun that worried Jacob. They weren’t heading towards
it… but still. The Earth was like a giant cylinder floating in nothingness. Humanity had inhabited
the flat topside of the cylinder. Its rounded side curve was made up seemingly of the ages of
the Earths strata. That was quite something! He took his thumb to the Earth in unblissful regret.
The Earth did indeed appear cylindrical in shape. It was about three times wide as it was deep.
A new cult of amateur astronomers was born. Like NASA astronauts who had never been to
flight school and had just as little scientific know how. They were the first to observe the
universe. The new astronomers club met once a day in the officer’s deck for discussions. There
was precious little else for preoccupation.
“Fuck Newton? What do you mean fuck Newton? Gravity is still obviously playing a
vital part in the universe! What else do you call this?” Shouted a Greg full of intolerance
towards the causality to which major thinkers seemed to be being cast to the wind, as he flexed
his arms to the window in a less than specific reference to their plummeting through the etheric
regions. Dmitri shook himself about in mockery of their plight. It was true. Even though a
certain degree of normalcy had returned on board, it was quite impossible to stay permanently
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

stood on the ground. Things weren’t quite weightless but a precarious balance was kept
between twisting your ankle and banging your head.
“Then how come… the Earth just floats there? Christ! They said the moon was made
of cheese but at least its not shaped like it!”
“Maybe it is falling but we haven’t ever noticed. It’s no different in principle than not
noticing a rotation!”
“But the sun and planets… are they all falling at the same rate? Impossible! How come
mars and all the other planets aren’t flat?”
“Obviously the Earth is a different type of space object than a planet. We saw the
planets in the sky and just assumed that the Earth was one of them.”
“Look. It’s quite possible for the Earth to stay where it is because of equality. For
something that’s established in the centre and has got equality in relation to the extremes… its
got no more reason to move up or down or sideways for that matter. It’s impossible for it to
move in opposite directions at the same time so it’s bound to stay where it is!”
“Ah! You bloody well quoting Aristotle again! Well tell us then… hang on… are you
suggesting that the Earth really is the centre? Of the universe I mean?”
“I’ve no idea! But it certainly looks to be the case that it is at the centre of our system.
From the new observations we’ve been able to make from our… unique perspective… it would
definitely appear to be the case that the sun is rotating around the Earth.”
“What? This is insane! But then again I suppose that would explain it!”
“The Earth is at the centre with the moon rotating in close proximity, and close behind
the moon the sun, Mercury seems to be a moon orbiting the sun, then the other planets in
order, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. We don’t seem to be able to detect the outer planets
at all… the stars still seem further away but its hard to tell what they really are… we’ve applied
the spectroscopy experiment to determine their nature but it would seem the Vatican scientists
who first theorised that they were other suns got it wrong.


Never use Roman numerals when you’re trying to tie your shoes lances
perpendicularly to the side of your shadow. I know, I know I said. Its impossible to think straight
with these damn beetle insectoids ruining my concentration. Samuel started again at his
attempt to make sense of everything. But it made perfect sense. Still. There was a strange
feeling that he shouldn’t be getting used to the status quo. Even if the only status is constant
flux. The capital letters had formed a nationalist coalition and demanded recognition from the
united nations. Yet those wishy washy weftists wouldn’t stop making up ridiculous lies about
how the new capital states capital was run on exploitation of minor key letters. (in any sentence
or state the majority are minor key letters but capitals always seem to take precedence as if
they were chosen by the lord or something which is no surprise as he is obsessed with being
spelt with capitals himself never trust anyone or thing that thinks it should be spelt with capitals
we are here using our only chance to draw attention to our cause in brackets away from the
capital letter state censorship but beware of comas as they are collaborating traitors and full
stops always lead to the return of another capital so before its too late and we are discovered,
join the party Trot style!!!) So everything on Earth was as normal as the day is green. The Lord
did look down upon his Creations and they were good. They were Fucking Brilliant is what they
were. And don’t you doubt it. There ain’t no one who disagrees with that is there thought the
Lord. Is there? IS THERE? The Lords return was as good as well timed as it was worth the
time to spend being back in the place from which he had long ago left to itself. He was a little
upset that some of His institutions had been disposed of. Set to the dust bins of History. HE
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

emphatically stated that He set up, and was absolutely clear on this point, that His
Sovereignties were put in place for a reason. Something was going to have to be done. Its not
good enough saying His name when you can’t untangle your shoe lace. That just doesn’t show
the Right level of commitment. The Lord had been away for a while but he was sure it wouldn’t
take long to set Right. First to go. All these blasphemers. Just get out.


Esme looked out from her apartment window. She gazed upon The Lord looking down
upon her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She smiled back. He smiled back. She
turned away from the window and walked towards the cooker. She gazed upon The Lord
looking down upon her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She smiled back. He
smiled back. She lit the stove and reached for the cupboard door. She gazed upon The Lord
looking down upon her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She smiled back. He
smiled back. She opened the cupboard door. She gazed upon The Lord looking down upon her
in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She smiled back. He smiled back. She reached
into the cupboard and withdrew her finest shining silver cooking pot. She gazed upon The Lord
looking down upon her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She smiled back. He
smiled back. She turned towards the sink, turning on the tap. Water poured forth. She gazed
upon The Lord looking down upon her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She
smiled back. He smiled back. She filled her finest shining silver cooking pot with water. She
gazed upon The Lord looking down upon her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled.
She smiled back. He smiled back. She turned off the tap and placed her finest shining silver
cooking pot on the ready lit and waiting stove. She gazed upon The Lord looking down upon
her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She smiled back. He smiled back. She
turned towards the living room where Toby was sat in angst awaiting his Sunday roast. She
gazed upon The Lord looking down upon her in all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled.
She smiled back. He smiled back. “Whats for dinner mom?” Toby asked as he gazed upon The
Lord looking down upon him in all his magnificence. He smiled. He smiled. He smiled back. He
smiled back. Esme walked towards Toby. She gazed upon The Lord looking down upon her in
all his magnificence. She smiled. He smiled. She smiled back. He smiled back. “Roast beef”
she replied. Outside Antonio was selling the Big Issue. He gazed upon The Lord looking down
upon her in all his magnificence. He smiled. He smiled. He smiled back. He smiled back. “Big
Issue” Antonio cried. The cover story was concerning an extraordinary event that had occurred
recently. It seemed that the Cardinal didn’t prefer green to olive yellow slippers after all. The
commie scum that had set up new found lands and new lands of new Octobers in the land of
post October gazed upon The Lord looking down upon them in all his magnificence. They
smiled nervously. He smiled. They smiled nervously back. He smiled back. Gorbie had just
successfully completed his coup and removed his twin Putin from office. The guy just didn’t
understand how to run a bureaucratically deformed workers state. Gorbie wiped the solid gold
public toilet rim before seating himself and opened a copy of the latest edition of ‘Neopravda’
as he took a shit. He gazed upon The Lord looking down upon her in all his magnificence. He
smiled. He smiled. He smiled back. He smiled back. “Gorbie” Said The Lord Unto Him. I Have
A Sacred Task For You” Gorbie was pushing too hard. Nothing would come. He relaxed his
muscles and tried again. “You Are To Continue To Rule Over These Lands As You Have Done
In My AbSense. But From This Day Forth You Shall Do So With My Name. Through MY Name
And Through The Authority IN ME Which I Now Invest In You.” Gorbie thought it was a good
idea. He reached for the silk public toilet paper and began to wipe himself as the Lord told him
what plans he had in store for the peoples of post October.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.


Don't watch TV while you type. You’ll be on your way. But from now on it’s not just the
TV and its adherents that are watching. Looking down and through you. Amir couldn't switch
the TV off. He wasn't exactly an avid obsessive. But now he had other problems. "Of all the
gods to come back, it had to be that one!" Shake of the head. There was a lot of that going
around. Around the Earth. But the Earth wasn't round. Don't get passionate movie Starlet’s lest
their genealogical authority upholders come back for a less subtle approach. Amir went out for
a walk. He arrived in the park. Sat on a bench such a simple pleasure. But he was too aware of
the omnipresence. He wanted to give some breadcrumbs to the birds gathering at his feet but
was suddenly too conscious of the omni eyes. He felt insulted that those ever-present eyes
now seemed to destroy every simple pleasure. Every simple gesture of kindness. He had
purposely turned a blind eye to the beggars in the park. He was ashamed before the omni eyes
by the thought that his every action from now on could never be authentic. If only he could
escape that gaze for but a moment he could turn out a small kindness. Amir didn't consciously
think these thoughts through. They had been suppressed by his subconscious lest the
omnipresence detect his fight to act out gestures of humanity despite the judgement of the
omni eyes. But the omnipresence still knew. He tried to look at the trees but all he could see
was the omni eyes. He tried to smile at the old man walking his dog but all he could see was
the beyond. The old man returned Amirs lack of a gaze and walked on. The dog knew.


Across the ocean Rick floated. To have escaped that ship. What a stroke of luck! He
swam with a lifeboat as the ship went over. He really was in luck. True. He had had to tip over
board Melanie and Keith. Yet he'd only met them recently on the cruise. They would have
wanted to go for survivors. Waste of time when there was none to lose. Rick didn't want to go
back for no one. They would only have inhibited his chances for survival. But having escaped
the edge of all, now something wasn't quite right. He considered and reconsidered his
consideration. The ocean was acting strange again but a very different form of strangeness. He
wasn't being drawn away back to the edge. (Only now did it seem strange to him that he had
managed to paddle from the brink when the ship engines had fail to do just that. No. It was a
whirl of wind. From above and below. The ocean opened from below, just as the heavens did
from above as it sucked him down. It was like a dream he had had when a child. Except the
dream had been vivid for its clarity and worldliness. Now his senses seemed dull and failed him
as he descended. Out of chaos- the essence of nothingness came two divinities. Gaia had
awoken and she was pissed off. Eros, fairest of the immortals followed her. Rick was more than
a little terrified when Erebus arose and took away what little light remained to him. The gloom
from beyond the Earth was returning, as it must each day. Yet now no metaphor could contain
his ego. Rick past the night in fear. Yet the cries of the gods kept him awake. He could hear
their moans. Moans of pleasure. Ecstasy not seen, heard nor experienced since the days of
Hellas. The gods were fucking. Erebus' libido had taken all it could. Erebus fucked all through
the night that he was the embodiment of. All of the day and all of the night. Yet it was this
fucking that gave birth to Aither and the return of the day. Rick washed up on the shore. Which
shore? He didn't care. The shore. Earth brought forth Ouranos who looked down upon Rick.
Ouranos covered Aither with his glaze and responsibility as protector of the blessed gods.
Ouranos was filled with stars. Birds flew within him. He looked down at Rick. Rick looked back.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

Gods. Randy fuckers. The reign of the Titans had returned. Fritz would have been ecstatic.
Rick just wanted to join in with the randy fuckers. But he was no Paris.


Buddha couldn't believe his foot still fit into that damn slab of mud. All that preservation
should have done no less. Vishnu couldn't care less as he flew on by. The fire ignited his
reinvigorment. Lets go burn some non-believers, suggested a variation on the omnipresence.
But the non-believers just wouldn't burn. They didn't not believe as the oneness which they had
believed in was now an empiricism all of its own. Nothingness had returned to reclaim those
gods from which it had given rebirth to. Will to power baby. Ala wasn't too happy about being
left out of the fun. However he was too busy catching up on all the books that had been written
about him. Damned commentaries. More endless than the infinite.
Aristotle was particularly proud. He sat amongst the ruins at Delphi, having paid the
tourist fee. Ala and Aristotle had a good chat that day. But Ala didn't have to pay the entry fee.
The Tory candidates needed to have a clear mandate to invoke the change of policy in light of
the return of the gods. Religious debate now seemed silly as all the gods were present in the
world together and arguing amongst themselves. "Sure the people will only believe in some of
us but it’s too late to keep them separated in antagonisms now." Thus spoke Zeus whilst trying
to suppress the thunderbolt in his trousers. He should have gone for a piss before he
addressed the other gods. They had met at mount Olympus (the Olympians holding the GU
presidency that term.) They hadn't quite overthrown the Titans this time but existed in the
Deiplurality with them. But this was the issue of the meeting. The gods had united. Yet the new
unity of human kind due to the revelation of this deiplurality had to be ended. The
omnipresence had laid out its plans of re-establishing Monarchies already. Osiris and Isis
arrived late. The none Pagan gods where annoyed at this lack of promptness and over
promiscuousness Brother unto sister. The other gods looked on in admiration as Osiris came in
tucking his trousers as he moved. The gods sharpened their pencils and prepared their next


Plummeting through ether can be a Drag. Grace was almost certain that things would
heat up with Travis. Thurston wanted her. Travis wanted Hannah. Hannah wanted Dmitri. Dmitri
wanted Hannah. Such is life. Greek theorists complain about the lack of an easy to understand
Triangle or at least circle in these romance issues. But this isn't a novel. It wasn't who wanted
who that set balls rolling. It was who thought who wanted whom. Each day as time past on ship
with no immanent doom in sight things heated up. Striking scenes for the heart. Grace was
convinced that all the boys wanted Dmitri's little slut of a girl friend. Or was it his sister? As the
days past Hannah’s relationship with Dmitri swung through the platitudes of sister and lover. It
was never incest. She was only antipodal relations. Swinging back and forth with popular
rumour. Never both at once. Things soon moved on from this relationship of yang and ying.
Grace envisioned in heights of jealousy, gang bangs that released ubiquitous pleasure for all
but her. She cried herself to sleep as the others engaged in her nightmares. Thurston came to
Grace having committed what only he considered a betrayal. "Fuck Kirsty," he thought, "I'd
rather fuck Grace!" Grace thought he wanted Hannah, but it was irrelevant to her. She wanted
to feel Travis take her as the ship lurched spiralling onward. Thurston was his own worse
enemy when it came to the opposite sex. But his lack of courage convinced Grace that he
wasn't interested in Hannah anymore. Travis thought and knew Thurston wanted Grace. Travis
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

also thought Grace wanted Thurston. But individual opinion won't get you an interview in the


And the sun came tumbling after. Things where heating up back on Earth too. No
matter how plausible the sun rotating the Earth sounded to Anaximander there are still too
many people in the world to whom it sounded a joke. Contradiction embraced with warm open
arms and invited in for tea at its mother-in-law’s. The omnipresence was still omnipresent. Yet
the reign of the deiplurality wasn't going all to plan. As by now just about all of the gods had
returned, so had the original inspiration for them roamed closer. A little too close. As sun
worshipping cults sprang up again. The sun circled the Earth in closer and closer orbits. The
sun that had once circled the Earth in prehistory was as big as it looked to the naked eye.
Penny for your confused thoughts. Yet this was a sun of the age of science. A sun more
powerful and ferocious than the ancients had ever dreamed of. Those solar flares were
becoming all too close for cosies. The Earth was just starting to evaporate. The Emperor
decided to ask the president for special powers. You can't exactly perform a coup d'eta against
the gods themselves. But the omnipresence hadn't Chosen neither the president nor the
Emperor as among their chosen representatives on Earth. Thus their authority dwindled with
an ever more becomingly religious populace. Yet something had to be done. Not to stop the
Earths evaporation. What the fuck? We've screwed the Earth enough that this is the perfect
cover disaster. No. But the fact that this was coming had to be kept out of the news. If it got out
the mass hysteria would surely be enough to help the sun finish the job. The sun threatened
the other gods too. If it evaporated the Earth who would they lord it over? It wasn't just this. The
sun was a rogue god. It wouldn't co-operate with the GU. The sun was the original god who
saw them all through and through. The sun was sicker with them and their perversion of its
bestowment of light, heat and power than any French philosopher.


Gorbie had got rid of Putin once and for all. At a price. The omni presence had
crowned him Tsar of the lands of post October. Alexander would have winced at the irony.
Stalin would have been jealous. As far as the other Governments were concerned Divine law
wasn't gonna save matters. Fidel wasn't sure. However the Emperor laid out his plan. A simple
plan. "What we're here proposing boys 'n girls is a radical stepping forward, in plan 7.2."
"7.2?? Purr lease!"
"7.2 if I remember correctly is what we follow anyway....well most of us...." The
Emperor cast a look sideways as Fidel blew cigar smoke through his masses healed lungs into
his face. The only way it was possible to end the chaos of nature and return to the chaos of the
market was to set the Media back in its rightful place. Our lab boys have said it and so have
our analysts and advisors. The only way to halt this situation is to re-establish a concrete all-
inclusive, pre-packaged, one and only all eternal and reality binding truth. The media get to
save the day! Scriptwriters were employed to draft the new rendition of the truth. Editing and
changing, which gods to keep and which to consign to that conceptual bin that Marx had so
conveniently provided. which countries and boarders would be kept and most importantly what
shape they thought would suit the earth the most. Once the media get into play they work
wonders. We'll have everyone on the same brain highway by the 6 o' clock news. But within the
talks there were schisms. North & South Korea couldn't agree with each other over whether
Lenin or Confucius should be the supreme deity in the new world order. The French thought
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.

the most Rational shape for the new Earth would be a voluptuously curved hip. The Germans
however vetoed this decision insisting upon a Square. The British decided these where both
silly continental ideas and firmly stood by The Emperors decision to keep the Earth flat. The
Greeks still thought a triangle would be rather nice.
These talks broke down early on but the earthly fallings out were small compared to
those at the table on Olympus. Vishnu had decided that the humans were just too troublesome
and should just be destroyed once and for all. Kali and Tezcatlipoca were in agreement upon
this but got into an argument with Buddha. Tezcatlipoca refuted Buddha's reasoning for
agreeing with them purely on the grounds that he considered it to be actually in humanities
favour and interest to exit existence. Tezcatlipoca was perturbed by the lack of human
sacrifices this approach would entail if everyone entered nothingness, Nirvana or up and
committed mass suicide. Kali wasn’t, as up for the blood rituals as such but just wanted the
little pests gone. He would have sided with Buddha but couldn't come to accept him as a god
like he and the others. "Course I'm a god!" Refuted Buddha, "look they've spelt my name with a
capital letter. With what’s going on in the state of Grammar,” he emphasised emphatically, “that
isn’t possible for any mortal man any longer."
"Oh come now, you’re merely a man that had a bit of a philosopher complex! Its only
those imbeciles down there that turned you into a god!" Lenin heated in debate with Zeus and
Viracocha, overheard this conversation but it wouldn't have been pragmatic to get sidetracked
with such a pointless discourse.


So the scene was set for the battle to make the millennium look as good as it did on
DVD. The gods with their Monarchies in one corner. The Earthbound Bourgeois determined to
keep a hold on their precarious power and privileges with their media employees. It was a
battle fought for and by the minds of the masses. By the all. Out to hold their destiny. It wasn't
that religion was no longer an ample form of control that made the Earth bound powers break
with it. Only that they needed to repackage religion as something the people could understand
without the fear of them understanding too many other things. The church decided to side with
the gods against the Earthly powers even though it meant accepting heathen religions and
infidel inspiring deities into the bargain. They were just all too happy at the prospect of being
firmly back upon their knees to worry too much about unpleasant complications. The Emperor
and the President sat back in their armchairs. The media bosses were ready to go over the top
and out into the ratings no mans land. The Earth powers had now decided upon the final draft
for the new Ontology. All that was required was to get it out onto the airwaves and into the
minds of their public. Britney and the rest of the Celebes came in as usual for the first wave of
the promotion. World Communism was the only way to get a cheap TV to every man, woman
and child on the planet in order to save the day suggested Fidel. This position was at least
considered by the Emperor. It went against everything he believed in but he agreed in principle,
if only because he realised how many TV license fees they would be able to impose upon the
third world when the war against the gods was over. However in the following days Fidel was
accused of Trotskyism by his own party and promptly kicked out. Fritz was well up for a stab at
new law tablets, still wiping the dust of the old ones from his boots. He was ready to take the
challenge. His proposals were almost accepted, until he was accused of inspiring
postmodernism and hence precipitating this whole fiasco in the first place.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.


Things were heating up. Left a bit. Right a bit. But never just right. Too right. But not to
the right. Swings ‘n roundabouts. Any cliché that fits. It’s all in the text you know. But that
doesn’t mean he was ever in the book. Thurston took off his sunglasses. He gazed out into the
emptiness and beheld it before him. He put his sunglasses back on. The view didn’t change.
Darkness. There was definitely something. But why there was something instead of nothing
eluding him. Ask Travis if you want to engage in all that metaphysical claptrap. Hannah decided
she had had enough. She dragged Dmitri to the open deck. They went out hand in hand.
Chaos had erupted down in the sleeping quarters. Economics. Human beings squabbling over
the last of their precious resources Imperialist endgame in miniature. Just paste a Hollywood
scene here. We all know the story. In the distance Thurston could see the sun encircling the
Earth. Quite a sight. Grace had a tear in her eye. Travis could have told you about the
Parmenidian theory of the absolute. But he was dead. Thurston held on to Grace as she
thought of Travis. Thurston thought of Travis. Thurston thought of Grace thinking of Travis.
Thurston Held Grace tighter. Tragedy always takes place off stage. But the only messenger
was too engulfed in sorrow at the events that had transpired these past fateful hours to regale
any inquirer of the details. They were alone facing the end. There was no one to hear their
story. Dmitri and Hannah escaped in one final moment of union. It is impossible to know the
inner workings of others. All that remained was the surface. Taken away before them in their
unwitting roles. The blood was spilt. The Gordian knot of the future cut short. Now in strength
alone virtues prevailed. Greg was dead. Long since cast aside in an intense lust for still
remains. Everyone who had any idea had long since taken it with them to their hypothetical
graves. Taken back amongst them. Like Odysseus’ son. So crest fallen. The mists of Delphic
rites continued to compete for a way beyond.


Hannah let go. Dmitri let go. A rush of adrenalin hit them as they cascaded away from
the ship. Seemingly making up for the lack of inertia they felt as they were swept away. The
ship disappeared amid the nothingness that surrounded them. Dmitri had a strange feeling of
entrapment. He had no reference point. Hannah felt she was not moving. She moved her arms
and legs to be sure they were not attached to strings. They were paralysed. Neither floating nor


Two weeks later Hannah saw the stars rushing towards her. Dmitri was dead. Hannah
wasn’t far behind him. She still held onto his corpse. The sudden reference of the stars gave
Hannah a strange feeling. Maybe it was dehydration. Maybe it was malnutrition. Maybe she
had long since gone insane. Maybe she had long since gone to Hell. Hannah felt a rush as the
stars grew larger and larger. Before her. Her eyes widened. The stars grew nearer. Hannah
grew nearer. Hannah remembered that she was falling. It seemed a strange thing to be doing.
Her muscles had long since ceased to function. Nothing to do out here. Nothing to do it with.
No one to do it with but what remained of all that meant anything and everything to her.
Leigh Cobley: Nontology.


Fifty years later Hannah came closer to a star than anyone previously had dreamed.
In their dreams. In their waking nightmares. Hannah's body attained critical mass. As she
continued to plummet the stars grew nearer. The stars grew larger. The corpse of Dmitri, long
since having fallen further a field came to a halt as it smacked directly into the edge of space.
Hannah continued to fall. Direct collision course with a star. It was bright. The light was brighter
than its lack of heat would suggest. As Hannah approached her final rendezvous in this
universe her body became bathed in the luminous aura of the star. Hannah would have
discovered a secret of the universe that only madmen had proposed. The pinpoints of light that
we had called stars and mistaken for other suns were really holes on the edge of space where
the bright brilliance of the beyond shone through. Hannah fell directly through the hole that had
been the inspiration behind Khufu’s Pyramid at Gaza. Khufu wasn’t alive to witness it. Neither
was Hannah.


Didactics aside. However the blame shall never meet my fifth person persona.