-the way to create a graduated control for apophenic sensitivity is to have some of your brains be rather unstable, but able to survive for at least a typical or near typical span-
-see, you just pour some more chaos in here- let that go, will you? they're both correct. they're just spreading now, see-?
-ZOMBIES! GET DOWN! I'm looking, shh- they're all moving in one direction- over there- FUCK! they're FORMING A LINE!
-"It's like casting a net and capturing as many neurons as possible at any one time," he says-
-now i can no longer tell where the voices are coming from. all of them used to have specific functions. the washing machine now tells me stories about my fictitious childhood and a voice inside my spleen sounds like plia singing- i know she doesn't sing-
-let's meet in the lounge, you can hear it in there, but not the wet end- it's too noisy-
-I think it's a natural consequence of living in space with a bunch of freaks- not you- but you noticed how our mission was so much clearer in the beginning? well, at least my beginning- the Funky Pope says that we don't have a mission, but he's full of shit, anyway-
-I don't believe in VolVoX-
-Planet? What Planet? That's imposs- -
-oh. oh. oh. oh. oh. oh. oh- it's just me-
-I am going to assume command. Gris. pAla. SnelF. Initiate ignition sequence. We are going to make a burn. Sound the alarm.
-it was at that moment that the world ended- not the worst world ending of all time, but pretty bad, anyway-
-i can't tell where that is. what are we looking at? those are zombies? oh, yeah, i guess you're right- do, i mean did, we know them?-
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