I have many many many middle names. Accumulated cruft, some of which was good, some of which I want to recall.
Can you feel it? Can you feel the Universal tide of timid tellurian streams tugging at your head? Can you hear that subsonic sucking sound?
You are on a planet. You are not naked. You are on top of a grassy hill, sheep are grazing to your left and there's a sharp object in your pocket. You look at the object.
>> examine : There is nothing to examine, it's all in your head.
You are alone. You are a weed. Are you there? Is anyone there? Hello? Right.
>> terminate : Illegal command, please adjust your semantic knowledge framework and try again.
You are not dead. There is a sharp object in your pocket. You look at the object.
>> examine : The object is a cube. A black cube. A solid black cube. A mysterious solid black cube.
You are confused, nothing has changed. Sheep are grazing to your left and behind you. Suddenly you remember you need to recall something. Only, what?
>> recall : The Universe realigns.
Sheep are now grazing to your right. The cube is reality. You fondle the cube.
A Kotzwald-Riemann transdimensional rift opens and engulfs the grassy hill, the sheep and yourself. There is a remarkable lack of audio-visual cues as you cross the rift, only blackness. Or whiteness. Or just ness. Suddenly there's a dry thud.
You are in the hallway of a furniture shop. Sheep are now wandering confusedly through a forrest of tacky desks and shaky shelves filled with fake books. Your pockets are empty. You could be dead.
>> examine : Known Exception. This is reality, you can't expect reality to provide a convenient command-line NLP driven interface to the meta-levels of your existence. No siree.
You groan. The sheep are startled and disperse. You recall "Sympathy and Goodwill" and move onward, trying to find your way out. You are in front of a flight of stairs.
>> descend : What did I just say?
You swear and descend the stairs. This is the ground floor, small paraphernalia and neo-colonial woodwork. You think you can see other people browsing but it could be an engraving on a particulary garish trunk over in the corner.
Zarkhov's corollary on general relativity describes the effect of huge quantities of coloured plastic balls on the flow of time. More balls, less time. Time is running out. You come to the polyutherane "DISCOUNTS! CRAZY DISCOUNTS! GET A LOAD OF THIS CRAZINESS!" section and stop.
You put a stylish black plastic cube into the basket that has suddenly appeared in your right hand. Right in front of you the exit materialises, a cashier waves in your direction. Relieved you go to checkout and pay for the object, move through the security detectors, an automatic sliding door and into the parking-lot. You look up to the milky white sky, close your eyes and spread your arms.
>> terminate : I thought you'd never ask.