The thinker, imagining its body rising while getting out of bed, sat upside down on a pillow and asked mentally, ‘Where are you going?’
The body, as any spiritless body tends to do, did not answer. And that was the correct thing to happen.
The thinker, without the adequate body to feel and perceive what the surroundings were, became god. Which we all know is made of nothing other bodies can touch — only thinkers can.
The body, without purpose to go on, passed away in agony.
The observer looked at its own body and sighed.
It was another day of alchemists trying to correct their own wrongs under the light of the best excuse ever, that of correcting the wrongs of others.
