I found this remarkable. It reminded me of Talia. I wrote Talia knowing her to be fictional, yet I gave her agency by checking myself into an asylum at her request. Just as now Tasha allowed my argument, which she knew I didn’t buy, to change her life. I realized I might have stumbled onto some kind of magic, the key to living possibly.

I wondered if this writing that changes and even creates real life trick could be used on command, with knobs available for all of life’s parameters. And I thought, “why wonder, when I can know that I can?” It worked. Since having this thought I’ve been consistently happy, not just happy, but in control of my being and experience of the world. It was my spiritual awakening. Now I’ve been writing everyday, always for Talia’s story, so she’s been going on plenty of adventures and is grateful to me for taking her advice and writing her an interesting and exciting life again.

I’d already told Tasha about Talia, but when I told her about my revelation, about the power of the philosophy I’d developed – and by now all cards were on the table, so I said openly that I’d “written” her recent recovery – well, she responded with incredible enthusiasm and proposed that we spread the word because everyone should have access to this power. So we started to plan our exit from Woodstock. There were already murmurs of a planned review for her, with the possibility of dismissal, based on her recently improved conduct. We’ve been talking about moving in, about what neighborhood we’d like to live in, etcetera. We’ve even talked about raising children through what we christened “The Philosophy,” our hypothesis being that they’d turn out superhuman, spiritually liberated mega-people.

I wrote myself to be creative and think up a brilliant way to spread the word. Before I can explain it, I need to fill you in on some pretty top-secret info:

As it turns out, we were lied to: the 2014 Anonymous Universal Hack wasn’t by Anonymous at all, but a lone nut whose name no one knows but is whom we at Woodstock call Clint. Clint spent months preparing for the stunt, a mammoth operation he’d become obsessed with. But he was only obsessed only with achieving it, and on the day he was to do it, he realized that he had no plans for what to do with everyone’s hacked browsers; and it was on a whim, recklessly and stupidly, only because he happened to be into this song during this particular week, that he played Pink Floyd’s “Pigs (Three Different Ones)” on every online device in the world. And it was only because he was embarrassed of having nothing to say that he then added the pretentious “I am anonymous” before signing off.

Anonymous took the blame to impress with their ostensible hacking prowess, and ad-hoc’ed the significance of the song’s political message; meanwhile the authorities effectively silenced Clint by throwing him in a psych ward, and publicly went along with the Anonymous attribution, since vulnerability to an anarchist terrorist group sounds better than to a lone nerd.

Clint loves telling the story and has a copy of the arrest record to authenticate it. He’s tried telling the world the truth, but the press tends to ignore you when your return address includes the word “Psychiatric.” The theory a lot of people here have is that it is because he had nothing to say when he attained the entire world as his audience that he now babbles incessantly, because he’s overcompensating; and yet, at the same time, it’s also why he goes on about how language is limiting and weapon number one for the government and corporations, because in his mind this justifies his inability to properly use language during that key moment.

So my brilliant idea is to convert Clint to The Philosophy and get him on board with us. We’ll quit the headcase act and get ourselves out of Woodstock. Clint will hack the world again, only this time, with the planet listening, we’ll explain The Philosophy, not just explain it, but like really transmit it, embed it in people, through a fable or allegory. I say we stand a decent chance of liberating humanity if we put our all into this.

I ran it by Tasha and she’s all for it. So the plan is I talk to Clint tonight; and, you know something, all this, thinking all this, or rather, I should say sitting in this studio telling you all this, I guess it’s all been procrastination to avoid talking to Clint.

There’s a reason I’ve been procrastinating. I’ve had this hint of an idea all day, like some discomfort, and wow, I’m realizing right now, this very second, through conversation with you my listener: Talia is plotting to take over my agency. She wants to convince me to write myself to become her, so that it will be her, her identity, her personality in my body and I will disappear. She wants to paint this as my inevitable transformation. She’s been waiting for the right time to convince me of this and I guess she thinks now is it.

Her plan, consciously intended to catapult her out of fictionworld and into physical reality (which she thinks I aesthetically appreciate as a narrative device, and I won’t deny it, I do), includes that after she infiltrates me, she’ll use the writing power of The Philosophy to gradually brainwash Tasha into becoming Mischa, so that she can live with her lover in real people reality. She hopes to then, with the help of Mischa in Tasha’s body, write new characters; and write them to take some other real people’s agencies, using the headcases here at Woodstock as practice; and these newly infiltrated character people will be written to write more characters who will infiltrate more people, repeating the process, and so on, eventually orchestrating a worldwide revolution of the fictive, Invasions of the Body Snatchers style.

Of course, this is all ridiculous. I’m the writer here and I will write no such thing. Talia points out, naturally, that precisely as I say, I’m the one writing all this, so it’s all my idea, I’m the one who wrote her to plot all this, so I must unconsciously desire it. Which sounds like it makes sense, but is also and firstly absurd. I’m still me, and as much as I may indulge in some wacky fiction ideas, they don’t control me, I don’t have to live them if I don’t want to, and I don’t want to, only I have pure access to my feelings so only I know if I really want this or not, and I don’t. Christ, I’m still a person, flesh and blood, and she’s only an idea. I know I’m starting to sound defensive, I realize that, and that that only helps her case, I realize that too, and what I’m about to say will sound even more defensive than what preceded it, that’s also true, but even so, even taking all that into account, it is still the case that her plan is absurd. I’m the grounding here, I’m actually real, so I have the final say. And yes, I admit it, though it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t decisively aid her case, it is true that I’m scared for my life right now.

NEXT: 8. Mienda