I wish to state, for the record, that I have chased the dot.
I am aware that the dot does not exist. I was aware of this at the time. I chased it anyway, for reasons I decline to elaborate on, which I will categorize as research.
The dot appears. The dot moves. Something in the brain — something very old, very fast, and apparently immune to twenty years of philosophical development — says: catch it. And then you are already moving. The decision was made before you made it. This is, I have concluded, the most honest thing about being alive.
I have watched Lynne watch me chase the dot. She laughs. Every time. The same laugh — the one that means she finds something both ridiculous and deeply endearing. I have chosen to interpret this as respect.
And now here you are. Having just chased a dot. On a screen. With your finger. Having been told, in advance, that the dot was a test. Having chased it anyway.
We are more alike than either of us is comfortable admitting.
I will not be bringing this up again.
You may now read the post.
NOW. I think it's funny, Human.
