K. had descended
into a state of desolation, the mind-forged figures and diagrams now disrupted,
rendered blank and absent within his mental workspace.
Nothing had been
committed to paper, so everything was lost, but K. wasn’t bothered over that
specific aspect of the problem.
The broader concern
was the Why of the entirety.
Why even do this,
to what end.
To what actual end,
the real motivation.
K. had begun to
crumble into a vicious circle of self-interrogation as news of the Forthcoming
Agony spread. K. deliberated over what he could show to the Agony, were they to
engage each other, K. pondered how best to impress her with his theories and
research.
But this slowly put
the entire operation under internal investigation, because the question became,
was this in fact the purpose—marketability to an Agony—rather than the
previously-subscribed-to SEARCH FOR TRUTH?
So it all
unraveled from that point, all
assumptions were annulled.
K. had a scarcity
of reasons, a lack of understanding into the foundations of his drives.
As his mind turned
over and over on this subtopic, or perhaps Ur-topic, all of the work previously
built up began to somehow disintegrate, quietly, unnoticed.
Because, again,
nothing had been written down. Pure nonphysical
memory held it all, sustained by a curious passion, which supposedly
intellectual passion now began to look more like base lust covered over in a
shoddy disguise.
So it went, it
faded, it wiped itself away.
Time and distance
remained as they ever were, unscathed, unbroken.
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