Waking Up

"And that's your plan? That's the grandest quest you can imagine?"

"Absolutely," I sighed. "Someone needs to take personal responsibility for the world. Our institutions, with all their money and power and resources, were supposed to do that. They were supposed to serve humanity, but they're failing. Someone needs to step up, so I'll do it. I'll carry the world. I'll place it on my shoulders. And if I can just help others see things differently, maybe they'll step forward and help lighten the load. We can build a more beautiful world together. I have to believe that's possible. Or maybe I'm just a crazy, idealistic dreamer, shouting into the wind."

"Crazy? Sure. Idealistic? Definitely. Dreamer? Not so much. You actually translate your dreams into reality. At least you try. I really like that about you."

"Thanks, Zac," I smiled. "Likewise. At the end of the day, the formula for creation is really very simple: have a dream, then express it into physical reality through thought, word, and deed."

"So that's it? That's the big secret to life, the universe, and everything?"

"Pretty much," I shrugged.

"I get the logic behind it. I do. And I want to believe it. It's just-"

"What?"

"I guess — I mean — it's just — it sounds a little too magical, y'know? A little too good to be true."

"Why?"

"I dunno. My rational mind accepts the premises, but rejects the conclusion."

"It's very disorienting, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The cognitive dissonance," I said. "Your rational mind is trying to reject the new program. Don't worry — it's normal. You're waking up, and the amnesia's wearing off. You haven't used your eyes — like, really used your eyes — in a very long time. Life looks different from where I'm standing. It will take a little time to adjust, but you'll get there. I've been very delicate with my sword work."

"Your sword work?"

"Yes. Breaking your mind out of King Materialism's dungeon prison is not an easy task. I couldn't just recklessly hack away at your mind with my argument. Each swing and slice and jab of my sword has been very particular. And now I'm holding your mind's most prized possession hostage."

"And what's that?"

"Your identity. You regard yourself as a rational man, right?"

"Yes."

"Then my sword is currently pressed against the neck of your core identity. Your mind now has a choice to make. If it accepts the new program, I'll let the hostage go. You can maintain your identity as a rational man. Alternatively, your mind can reject the new program and go back to believing in materialism and randomness and every other illogical idea you ever had about the universe. I'm sorry, but if you make that choice, I'll have to slaughter the hostage. You will no longer be a rational man. You will become 'a man of faith.' A religious man, if you will."

"But I'm not religious!" Zac cried.

"Exactly!" I grinned. "You're rational. If your mind wants to maintain its identity, it has to accept my conclusion. Besides, technology is disrupting every industry and facet of the human experience. What made you think it wouldn't disrupt religion?"

"Fair point. It's just — how do you know it really works like this?"

"Zachary," I sighed, "Do you remember when God said, 'Words may help you understand something. Experience allows you to know?'"

"Yeah…"

The brooding five a.m. sky was speckled with stars that shone from far-off galaxies. "I love this part of the night," I said. "It's always darkest before the dawn."

And with that, I stood up, pushed off from the pier and dove head-first into the silent ocean.