If it is possible to have a novel without a character the character here is ourselves en masse, a collective society of a world which mythological conflicts overwhelm. No problema they creep into our consciousness and have done over years. Our New Philadelphia is a colony out post on a Hadrian’s Wall inhabited by refugees confronted in their new environment not so much by nature but by myth and this is the record of our adaptions. Salient features of our founding include a series of transfers of water like the transfers of culture from that world the colonists abandoned to the new they know nothing. Liken them to mystics of the Wissahickon Creek as it passed through the gorge to merge with the Schuylkill River into the Delaware and then the sea. To encourage their poverty of thought they thought they were reliving elements of the Odyssey, like descendents into hades maybe, signature of all heroes. The Who could know it however realize this world is inhabited by monsters worse than the Odyssey and has no heroes or overarching great cause like Helen or Troy or Truth. These individual features done away with, heroes are no more.
In the beginning their obtuse recommendations of the collective were as confusing as scruples against geese. They excitedly questioned each others nerve. But the five microcosms did not notice either set of believers. Since the mystics were predominant, Leviathan was invited which introduced extreme oddities of topography. The majority in that town patterned their lives and homes after this sea monster they saw in the stars and in the cosmos, if not actually in the sea, casting omens of earth and fire and trying to foretell the future, for all the good it did them. They sacrificed to Poseidon right out of the Greek, so though they believed a child was born pure and innocent it was not scrupled to live among tens of millions in the womb. These contrasted with the harbor seal Baptists as they were called, who would begin speaking along the jetties and walks with their eyes closed and go so long that even after their audience had long departed they kept on with their antiphonies. They anointed themselves elders in a Council of Watchers to oppose the intrusion of their so called nemesis from the sky as much as Leviathan was the mystic nemesis from the sea.
There are many ways to offend those who have not seen the cracks radiating from centers of implosion of fissures like Tycho in the Moon, colony craterlets, orbits of phyllotaxis, divergences perceptible as the shape Ohio once was, or became. It too existed after proof of some finite intelligence at work, occurring passim, the a priori rendezvous-proving rule, circle down to circle for one who descends, crossings seen in the meeting-places of more than one canal.
To call them canals is a faux pa from the planned obsolescence of intelligence that once existed, like thinking the world flat mistaking rivers for canals, spheroid for flat, something as if Gilgamesh below the Euphrates Beltway to which people dug tracks and underground trains in their temples to convince themselves theirs was a perfect world. These tracks, taken apart, were not seen, for this they did not do.
Every effort to conceal the one cell organism known as Mammon-Oranus, a huge intestine of money governed in Secret with its primitive media nerves, multilayered in a newfound. For you know the gut has a brain stimulating the tribes with “wow pulses,” This *Stockholm-Munchhausen mosaic of tribes caught between the coasts of the present-day fabulous and history would digest money, excrete money, displace other processes of being. After exposure that the Secret mind could produce these impulses on its own would gurgle would not be spoken full in words.
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