In the Electric Outback

Miners cash out imaginal realms before the looming disappearance of imaginal realms, which is not a real thing, except that it is, in some form. That's how things work in this ecosystem, somebody or other said. There's hardly any point in getting overly explanatory. Of course, that is exactly the point. The bondage of imagination to the ever more toxic material of pointed clarity.

That's an extremely convoluted metaphor, but apt, even in the form of its convolutions. The idea of a web, in itself is chaotic material. There is no thing that does not suggest its own reversal. There is no reversal that does not evoke a transcendence of some degree. This isn't welcome news in some parts, thus the many excursions for practice in orienteering. That's how oracles are located, and so we trek certain expanses of the Blues.

Naturally, this is meant to be funny, proving what I've said about punch lines and time travel. They don't mix particularly well. Since this is clearly part of a fictional universe, it's adaptable, and, I'll admit, overly, self-indulgently, absurd. Baroque, even.

Stripped bare language carries word-level these webs. This is an experimental universe for the construction of thought experiments. That's a literal explanation of the purpose of this thing. I should put that somewhere.

The essence of noir is its ambiguity, which is necessarily heroically personal.