fifty-fifty
the nightmare of the equation is the residual term:
the fraction of autonomy present in the illusion of choice.
one little fish in the pond decides to swim anticlockwise
and narrowly escapes a predator
that claims the lives of all clockwise-fish. thank goodness
for free will, thinks the fish.
my life is a tree diagram
whose probabilities have probabilities,
which makes for a fascinating fractal pattern. fear
tastes like sea salt and numbers.
one little fish in the pond decides to swim anticlockwise
and is bitten into halves. thank goodness
for free will, think the clockwise-fish.
false start, texas sharpshooter. there is so much to do,
so much to run for. achilles
will never catch up to the tortoise—not because of
the laws of the universe, but because of
the way the question was asked.
one little fish in the pond decides to swim clockwise
and narrowly escapes a predator
that claims the lives of all anticlockwise-fish. thank goodness
for free will, thinks the fish.
there is always an angle at which you can view a line
and it will look like a point. there is no angle
at which it will look like a square. it is unfortunately a one-way ticket
from flatland to lineland, and so
perspective is meaningless.
one little fish in the pond decides to swim clockwise
and is bitten into halves. thank goodness
for free will, think the anticlockwise-fish.
you see now that it was no better than a coin toss.
don’t think about it for too long, little fish.