The wonders of the absence of, the freedom from feeling connected to, the news of the day is hard to describe.

There is a running joke among the philosopher/humourist crowd about those who sit around reading the news and get infected with the “I’m directly responsible for world events” fever.

Bloggers and tweeters and social network feeders seem most susceptible to this condition that has permeated all walks of society throughout history.

You can use humour to relieve yourself of the imaginary burden of carrying history on your shoulders or you can build a network of people who actually change history.

But if you just sit around dreaming about dreaming about making change, then dreaming’s your output, not facts.

I use my network to dream about humour.

The network of my thought set, that is, extended to infinity like some moderncubistpostindustrialartdecoupage painting.

And now I find myself here, working with the scientists and programmers who’ve solved the multicellular division problem that will allow me to disperse and rejoin myself in another universe.

They’ve told me to expect a quantum disturbance.

I’ve told them to expect this to serve as a diversion from another storyline that will be told some other time.

I don’t want to say goodbye to the essence of me – my viewpoint, my style of humour – but it might be the price I’ll pay to go over to the other side.

A trailblazer for future generations that may never know I existed because I did but did not change history in any significant way.

Dropping pebbles in a pond at a scale I cannot imagine.