Immediately stop disseminating the journals.
G: This is unexpected.
For reasons of universal security.
G: But I am only implanting the ideas in the brain of a subpar specimen of a sub-standard alt-Earth reality, and the specimen only releases the information onto an equally backwater old-fashioned electronic source in a backwater of their pathetic version of a ever-net.
Nonetheless. There has been…leakage.
G: Only an infinitesimal number of sentient minds even read the entries of this subpar backwater specimen? A tiny, tiny percentage!
The issue is that most of them are also among the infinitesimal percentage of minds in that alt-Earth reality for whom the information can spark…actions we do not want and cannot anticipate.
G: Can I continue my dissemination in the other twelve realities of my experiment?
Yes. You can. For now.
G: Should I delete the information from the subpar thinker’s brain? And perhaps accidentally have the information wiped from their primitive every-net?
No, that will not be necessary. You need only make the subject of your experiment think that it would be better to consider his writings off-line and then slowly dessicate the parts of his brain that would supply the energy and imagination to continue to write down any residual information, while stimulating his pleasure centers when he is writing anything else. Just…don’t overstimulate…that might attract attention, given that he writes in what they call coffee shops.
G: And if he continues writing it from his own imagination?
That doesn’t hurt us at all. Let him gracefully bow out and if he comes up with a fabrication going forward, who cares.
G: I kind of liked this subpar specimen. He had spirit.
Don’t we all.
G: Very well, I’ll wind down the experiment and concentrate on the other twelve subjects.
Of course, it won’t matter at all in another million years…but then nothing will.
G: You’re always so cheery.
I’ve seen too much and I work too hard…
G: Is there anything else?
No, I think that covers it. Oh—except the number of rebel angels your operation has flushed out has risen to seven.
G: Seven left then.
Yes. Only another seven. Won’t be long now. Not long at all.
Dear Readers of The Journals of Doctor Mormeck:
The disembodied conversation above came to me in a dream, the only visuals exploding suns and darkly glimmering nebulae. It was a very strange happening, and part of me isn’t sure I should be sharing it…except that I have indeed come to a point where I think it is best that I continue working on The Journals of Doctor Mormeck off-line. This is in part because I have so much to fill-in and to flesh-out in the preceding sections of the 52,000 words I have thus far rough drafted. And in part because that fleshing out is necessary to see my way forward. When I woke up this morning, I had the peculiar sensation of knowing with certainty that I had no way forward at all, and indeed my notes for future scenes seem like gibberish now. I am absolutely sure that unless I go back to the beginning and reimagine parts of this novel, I will not finish it properly.
I know that for those of you who have sent in donations to keep me writing, this may come as a disappointment. Therefore, if you have paid me $21 or more via paypal, you will receive via email a couple more updates in the fullness of time once I have gone forward in the narrative again. In addition, of course, you will receive a free copy of the novel when it is published in book form. Furthermore, if you’ve been following along but didn’t donate $21 or more, you can have a grace period of the rest of December to take advantage of this offer. As stated, you will get a signed, personalized copy of the finished novel, plus updates.
This has been a very odd and discombobulating experience for me, to have such a lucid and specific dream, and of course I think it’s my subconscious telling me that for the preservation of the novel, I need now to take it back from the public eye and work on it at my leisure. Not to mention, I must say that today I have felt an almost indescribable, possibly orgasmic joy at the thought of returning to my other novel, Borne, which is two-thirds completed. So I am going to set aside Mormeck for the next month to try to finish a draft of Borne, and then come back to Mormeck.
Thank you for your patience, and your patronage, and I appreciate you having read the novel up to this point. It did keep me writing, and if I didn’t feel much more peculiar about continuing than I do about stopping, I would continue post new installments here on Ecstatic Days. I’m sure I will feel better in the next week or so.