132 lines
6.6 KiB
Plaintext
132 lines
6.6 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### # ## ## ## ##
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## ## ## ## ##### # ## ## ## ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ## #######
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[ The Secret Actors ] [ By The GNN ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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THE SECRET ACTORS
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by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
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This file has not been constructed by The GNN.
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There is just one reality. All others are faked; you live in one of them. I,
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however, live in the real reality together with my friends. We have always
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lived here, and will live here forever. We are static, in the sense that we
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do not change - at least not in the way you are used to.
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But most important, we are in control, of what you will see and what you
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will hear. Time does not exist. We are the secret actors of the theater, so
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listen carefully.
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we control
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the left
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and
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the right
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... and so I snapped my fingers, and the cafe fell down in front of my
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shoes. Yet another show was about to take place, in the never ending theater.
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(Well, of course, the show had already begun - the moment I snapped my
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fingers. But that is only a mere detail, nothing you need to worry about. You
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will have other things to think about when you are through.)
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I opened the door and entered. A little bell rang as the door closed
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behind me. No one noticed me; all the other actors were busy talking, arguing
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and discussing with each other. Cigar and cigarette smoke engulfed the place.
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Coffee and whiskey were consumed.
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Two persons caught my attention in the crowd. I recognized them from a
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situation that I had been a part of. They argued about quality in text.
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"... even though he acted in one of the best pieces of art that has ever
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been around, I see no excuse for wasting his talent on that worthless piece
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of garbage that he...," said the man I knew as... well, I was not really
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sure. Never mind. His present clothing revealed that he had worked for
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something that existed in what you call the future.
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"Oh, why don't you just shut up," the woman in front of him interrupted.
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When I had met her the first time, she was a drug abuser who tried to find
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the exciting life. Now, she seemed to have participated in something less
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controversial. Like if she had taken a bus ride, looking really normal.
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They kept on arguing with each other. I decided to sit down and join them.
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I believed my company would, at least for the moment, neutralize their
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discussion.
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They greeted me, but I noticed that none of them recognized me.
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"I'm Spingleman. And the inventor of the Red Team." I said.
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No answer. They just looked at me, with suspicious eyes.
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"Erm," I continued, "You know? Zero-Twenty-Eight? One-Sixty-Seven?"
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The man uttered a cry of delight. "We have met before! I used to be
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Stechnykov. How are you, my friend?"
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"Fine," I replied. "You see, I'm the owner of this cafe."
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They both began to laugh. "I should have guessed!" said the woman. "If I
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know you right, you are a fan of, well, how shall I put it... twists?"
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"I am." I replied and smiled. "They are quite enjoyable, if conducted the
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right way."
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The man leaned back in his chair, called for the waitress and ordered me a
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stiff drink. I was not sure if I really ought to drink, since I had a rather
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serious project in mind. But I came to the conclusion that the mood demanded
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me to drink it anyway.
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"The only thing I hate with this work," said the man, "is that the damn
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fools of the other world believe that the situations we create and uphold are
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invented by..."
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He sneered.
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"... the authors!"
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The woman agreed. I had no opinion. But in a sense, I knew he was right,
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even though he had put the words rather foolish. We would be nothing without
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the other world.
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we control
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what has been
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what is
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what will always be
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The bell rang behind me. I turned around and saw a man enter the cafe. He
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looked around, waved to a few friends, before his eyes fell on me. He
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chuckled, pointed at me with a finger and said: "Good thinking."
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I nodded a thank. This sure was a good idea, I thought. Actors need not
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only construct shows, but also meta-shows. I drank the drink. I listened to
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the discussions. Then it was time to leave. This created situation had
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nothing more to offer the spectator.
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I rose from my chair. A collective sigh could be heard from the crowd.
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Obviously, the fact that it was I that had created this cafe had spread
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across the actors. They seldom get to meet each other, so I guess they were
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not at all that pleased with my oncoming departure.
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I opened the door and stepped out. After I had snapped my fingers, the
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cafe was no more. Limbo of text is not a nice place, so I decided to leave
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quickly for another place. This had been a good show, for me and for you. But
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I have other things to do now. I will snap my fingers one more time, and then
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I am out of this textfile. But I can assure you, we will meet some other day.
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Snap.
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/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
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These are 18 letters.
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If you need more letters, consider: www.algonet.se/~daba
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\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
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Is there a relevance of metaethics to ethics?
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #370 Underground eXperts United 1997 uXu #370
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Call KASTLEROCK -> +1-412-527-3749
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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