Delving into the past. Digging down and down, screwing into the earth with a giant auger, turning slowly, bringing up load after infinite load of loose dark earth. The wet black loam, the sticky clay, the compact sand, the dirty pebbles; It all comes up slowly, slowly falling off the inclined plane of the auger screw as it churns and churns and turns and works ever deeper and deeper into the depths of the ancient ground.
The auger becomes a department store elevator, but it still down it goes, down to the past, down to the bones, down to the cold, down to the heat, but always down and never stopping, through pools of oil, veins of gold, lakes of water, but always down, down to the center, the middle the core, down beyond today and tomorrow, down to the infinite, down to now, to the circle beyond the past and ahead of the future, into the middle of the middle of the center, where nothing goes and nothing stops, nothing's here and nothing's there, riding it like an elevator, eyeing the elevator operator in her pill box hat, "floor 2,938 cream horns, turkeys, and women's lingerie, step back please the doors are closing. Going down. Floor 3,213 ice bergs, fountain pens, and jock straps. Step back please, doors are closing. Going down."
I get off on floor 3,213 and wander down the aisle, which extends as far as the eye can see; extending in a rectangular box of a building, rectangles of florescent light fixtures in the ceiling trailing off ahead of me into a blur as far as I can see, below them display after display of every commodity you can think of: tables of coats, racks of hams, sport utility vehicles displayed on lifts, rising up and down to draw your attention, with cutaway engines and flashing headlights, bananas of every description, green yellow miniature red, whole public markets, sections full of new houses with all the accouterments, any item you could want, and everyone you imagine appearing as you walk the infinite aisle, popping up on the horizon as you approach. You feel as though you were attached to a giant conveyer belt, and have the feeling of walking but not advancing, walking along as the endless merchandise displays roll past. It’s like a giant treadmill, and you’re walking and walking past display after display.
And oh, did I mention the women? There are women on display, too. Not real women it seems, model women. Maybe they’re robots. Oh it’s sexist even to form the thought. So naughty. But there you have it. I roll past the displays, captivated, lost. See what I mean? They have just the right look and just the right shape and beautiful breasts and long flowing auburn, black or blonde hair, and sensitive smiling eyes, and understanding and oh so willing to satisfy your every want your every wish and desire, all for the asking, all for free, all just by saying, yes, all just be wanting it, no harm, no possibility of reproach, no dishonor, all for you, whenever you want it, just say the word. Oh my god.
But we move along slowly, inexorably along. The scene shifts a bit, and now I’m strolling. Strolling along through a beautiful park in a beautiful city that is also on display also one of the commodities, also on a display rack but this one seems to be an extension somehow of Floor 3,213, some kind of annex. I wonder if I’ll ever get back to the elevator. But this perfect park with perfect weather in a perfect city is also available, for purchase, all you have to do is say the word. But somehow you never do. And on and on you walk, wondering where the elevator went, how do you get back to it, will this city display ever end? Where the hell is the elevator? On you walk, on you go, now noticing that you're on an inclined plane, and your headed down, still down and down further, in the perfectly pleasant city on a beautiful day, birds cheerily chirping in the trees.
The auger becomes a department store elevator, but it still down it goes, down to the past, down to the bones, down to the cold, down to the heat, but always down and never stopping, through pools of oil, veins of gold, lakes of water, but always down, down to the center, the middle the core, down beyond today and tomorrow, down to the infinite, down to now, to the circle beyond the past and ahead of the future, into the middle of the middle of the center, where nothing goes and nothing stops, nothing's here and nothing's there, riding it like an elevator, eyeing the elevator operator in her pill box hat, "floor 2,938 cream horns, turkeys, and women's lingerie, step back please the doors are closing. Going down. Floor 3,213 ice bergs, fountain pens, and jock straps. Step back please, doors are closing. Going down."
I get off on floor 3,213 and wander down the aisle, which extends as far as the eye can see; extending in a rectangular box of a building, rectangles of florescent light fixtures in the ceiling trailing off ahead of me into a blur as far as I can see, below them display after display of every commodity you can think of: tables of coats, racks of hams, sport utility vehicles displayed on lifts, rising up and down to draw your attention, with cutaway engines and flashing headlights, bananas of every description, green yellow miniature red, whole public markets, sections full of new houses with all the accouterments, any item you could want, and everyone you imagine appearing as you walk the infinite aisle, popping up on the horizon as you approach. You feel as though you were attached to a giant conveyer belt, and have the feeling of walking but not advancing, walking along as the endless merchandise displays roll past. It’s like a giant treadmill, and you’re walking and walking past display after display.
And oh, did I mention the women? There are women on display, too. Not real women it seems, model women. Maybe they’re robots. Oh it’s sexist even to form the thought. So naughty. But there you have it. I roll past the displays, captivated, lost. See what I mean? They have just the right look and just the right shape and beautiful breasts and long flowing auburn, black or blonde hair, and sensitive smiling eyes, and understanding and oh so willing to satisfy your every want your every wish and desire, all for the asking, all for free, all just by saying, yes, all just be wanting it, no harm, no possibility of reproach, no dishonor, all for you, whenever you want it, just say the word. Oh my god.
But we move along slowly, inexorably along. The scene shifts a bit, and now I’m strolling. Strolling along through a beautiful park in a beautiful city that is also on display also one of the commodities, also on a display rack but this one seems to be an extension somehow of Floor 3,213, some kind of annex. I wonder if I’ll ever get back to the elevator. But this perfect park with perfect weather in a perfect city is also available, for purchase, all you have to do is say the word. But somehow you never do. And on and on you walk, wondering where the elevator went, how do you get back to it, will this city display ever end? Where the hell is the elevator? On you walk, on you go, now noticing that you're on an inclined plane, and your headed down, still down and down further, in the perfectly pleasant city on a beautiful day, birds cheerily chirping in the trees.