Dialogue 8

I can see light coming in through the skylight.

Are you sure?

As sure as I can be.

What do you think it means?

Dunno.

Where do you think it's coming from?

No idea.

How high can you see?

Right up to the top and then some.

You were always so modest.

Yes, that is one of my strong points.

Was the skylight always there?

Maybe, but this is the first time I've noticed it. And would you mind not asking so many questions? It's not nice to look at, all those question marks so close together on a page. They don't create the right impression.

I didn't know you were keen on creating impressions.

Singular; just one impression. The impression I want to create is of a smooth flowing text, not one that is staccato little questions and answers.

And yet that seems to be what would come most naturally to us at this precise moment.

I know, but we have to stop living entirely for the moment and try to give some thought to the past and the future.

But I want to ask questions. They are what I need at the moment. I don't want answers, I don't crave answers, I just want to immerse myself in questions, surround myself with questions like a squid squirts ink, to confound my enemies.

Who are your enemies?

I suppose the people who kept me from seeing that there was a skylight there, all these years.

Do you really think it was a question of people?

There, now you're at it, too. Questions are a necessity. Conversation isn't possible without a fair sprinkling of questions.

Maybe we'll get to the end of it.

The end of what?

The end of all this.

The end of all what?

Of all this questioning.

The urge comes and goes. The questions are always there, infinitely and endless, whether we ask them or not.

You are right, I suppose. At this precise moment I want to ask them but I feel as if I'm cheating somehow because I really don't want any answers. I just want the right to ask the questions, to state that I do not know, no, know nothing do I. There is no god.

So?

So what?

So what difference does it make?

Whether or not there is a god? None to us, but a helluva a lot to all those praying for a miracle or living their lives as if there was going to be some kind of reward in heaven.

Well, there, I don't agree, because they are the winners, and they have their reward in that they live their lives with clean souls. All those grasping and cheating and snarling unfair ones are tainted, and they live tortured lives and die tortured deaths. The good ones, the nice ones, die peaceful and are not tortured.

Is that what you believe?

Well, maybe I spoke a bit lightly. But there is a bit of that.

(Time passes)

I didn't make myself.

No, but you invented me.

You've got a point, there.

Or at least, you give me voice, allow me to express myself. Isn't that the same thing?

Is there any point in going on, or should we just give up?

Why give up, when we have finally seen a ray of light coming in the skylight? We beavered on for years in the dark, never evoking the possibility of giving up.

Interesting. This feeling that there is no point in going on, when we are so close to our goal

Which is?

Or was

So we have given up on it without even knowing it?

We have become so cynical, if that is the right word. So many things have gone wrong that we no longer feel there is any point in trying to do anything because it will inevitably fail, too.

Yes. We have become burdened with the weight of everything that goes wrong, of the possibility of things going wrong, turning out badly. And yet at first glance you would think that in any activity there would be a fifty-fifty chance of a happy outcome.

Except that if we take life, which is, after all, what we're interested in, we can clearly see that it inevitably ends in death, and human beings mostly view death as something negative. In a way, it is surprising that human beings are not even more cynical, negative and depressive, given the certainty, from the very moment of birth, that it will all end in death.

Quite. So it is only natural that thoughts are overwhelmingly turned towards things going wrong, because in the main, things do go wrong. Every single person who is born eventually dies, and that is not good news.

Maybe it is the way we think about it that is wrong. Is that why we are put here on the earth? Is that why people come into existence? To get to grips with this system and understand why there is nothing wrong with dying since it is the sine qua non of living?

And if we take it as fact that from the moment we are born the only absolutely certain thing is that one day we are going to die, then we should be able to look at life differently

Yes

From another angle

From the angle of?

Maybe I am out of order, but it seems to me that the important thing would be to see what we can actually learn from this experience. Does that sound strange?

No. I am quite willing to go along with this.

I do enjoy our talks

Me too. So what do you think the light means?

Light?

Yes, the light coming in the skylight.

It must be dawn.

Oh, yes, I hadn't thought of that. You mean up till now we have only ever exchanged words at night, in the dark, and now we are doing it and there is some light filtering in from outside, from the sun, from the world.

Yes.

Are you sure you're not hiding anything from me?

I don't think so. I know it took me a long time, but when you think about it, what else could light coming in a skylight possibly mean other than dawn? The sun is rising. The light is coming back

That's very terre à terre.

I am pragmatic

So I'm the metaphysical one, the one who lives in symbols and lusts after mystery.

Yes. I am delighted just to be here and there is nothing more to it. That light coming in through the skylight doesn't have anything to do with me. I am able to see it. Perceive it I can. But I am totally passive in relation to it.

Well, I don't exactly get the impression I put it there, either. After all, who knows how long it had been there before we even noticed it.

At least we're not worried about time here.

No, this does not seem to be about time, for once.

There must be some other constraint.

That’s right. There is no life, no energy, no flowing, no activity – and no dialogue – without constraint.

You mean we only talk to each other under constraint?

No, I didn’t express myself properly there. I was talking nonsense. On the contrary, what allows us to exchange is precisely a lack of constraint. I don’t have to talk to you and you are not forced to answer. We stumbled on each other and discover we had certain affinities. There is no coercion. We are free, my friend.

Yes, but has it always been that way? In the beginning, you addressed me out of desperation. I don’t know why I answered; I don’t know who I am or what my role in anything is. All I know is that I need you to exist and you are the only person I talk to and my knowledge seems to stop there. It’s like I was silent all those years until you invoked me, but I was not aware of being silent, not even aware of existing, and then I come into being and produce words just like you, perhaps not in the same way but when the ball is rolling at times what we say and who says it becomes almost interchangeable. Ok, in the beginning, I was perceived as a passive, moaning wimp but through time we have both come to appreciate my dependability and even though I could not be expected to start a conversation I can be relied upon to participate as soon as one is initiated by you.

This doesn’t help us to find out what we’re supposed to be doing about the light.

We don’t have to do anything yet. There is not really very much of it. Not enough to represent any real danger. A faint glimmer, really. Like a distant gloaming.

But the fact that it wasn’t there before could well mean that it could become more and more important and grow and eventually take over everything, and we would no longer be able to meet under cover of darkness.

That seems like a slim possibility; let’s worry about that when the time comes; for the moment, we have been in the dark for yonks so why would we suddenly be flooded with light?

Stranger things have happened.

I suppose so.

In any case, I can’t help feeling that it is somehow or other very important.

Absolutely.

Vital.

There’s no other word.

Essential.

Well, ok. I give you that.

Highly significant.

A dawning

Of sorts.