"Yes," I smiled. "And so are you, and me, and this pier, and this ocean. We're all very particular frozen ideas in the mind of a superintelligence. Actually, did I tell you I once spent two weeks thinking non-specific thoughts?"
"No. What does that even mean?" Zac asked.
"I was going through a pretty rough patch when I first started CodeMakers. I'd just been to this course in New Zealand-"
"What course?"
"Oh, it was called 'A Black Belt In Thinking.' It was an incredible ten-day boot camp teaching the theory of constraints. It taught me how to think."
"No shit." Zac rolled his eyes. "With a name like 'A Black Belt In Thinking,' I never would have guessed. How'd you end up there?"
"Serendipity."
"Very mysterious…"
"Anyway," I said. "The course was amazing, but it also exposed some serious flaws in my business model. I came back to Australia a bit down about the whole thing, as I didn't know what to morph the business into. I needed some new inspiration, so I decided to run another little experiment on my consciousness. I only allowed myself to think non-specific thoughts."
"Non-specific thoughts? Like what?"
"Well, I'd be walking to the train station thinking, 'That is a nice tree. Look at the beautiful pattern in the bark, and its interesting shape. I like the way the leaves are so thick and glossy. I like that the bats have a place to hang at night. This is a nice path. Isn't it nice that someone laid down this path for me? Isn't it nice that we have cement, and cement can be used to lay down the path? Isn't it nice that other people know how to use cement? I don't know how to use cement, but isn't it nice that cement exists. I'm sure some people love cement. People build entire businesses around cement. I wonder what the cement supply chain is-'"
"Okay, okay, I get it." Zac put his fingers in his ears. "And how long did you practice this drivel for?"
"Two weeks straight."
"You managed to keep that up for two whole weeks? Like, constantly?"
"Well," I said, "my goal was to think non-specific thoughts unless I was specifically engaged in work or a conversation or something where I had to focus my attention specifically to get the job done."
"So, you kept that up for two weeks?!"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Mental discipline. It was hard at first because I'd start thinking about something in the past or the future, and I'd have to catch myself and re-focus on the present. However, each day it became easier and easier. By the end, it felt like I'd just had a two-week-long mental orgasm."
Zac snickered.
"What?"
He chuckled again. "I'm just imagining what it would be like to have a two-week-long orgasm."
"I said, mental orgasm. I was being metaphorical."
"I know," Zac said. "But still... I wonder if that is something to aspire to, or if too much of a good thing makes it bad."
"I can imagine you'd lose two weeks of productivity."
"How do you know?" Zac challenged. "I might produce my best creative work while mid-orgasm. Journalists will flock to me, doing interviews and espousing my brilliance. They will say, 'Mister Borrowdale, what is your secret?' And I will tell them what my secret is." He winked, and I laughed.
