Transparency

Peter: The sky may well be falling, but why run? Of course, Thomas, we could dig but we've dug ourselves in deep enough and found nothing but dark, wet, and cold. I tell you we stand our ground. The physicists whoop it up with their lines, membranes, and bubbles of universe and at the very same time fat monkeymen eat chicken nuggets and slurp down sugar like some sort of insect. We don't have allies!

Thomas: It does seem lonely. Still, you seem so excited. It hurts to feel the way you think. Please quiet yourself.

Peter: Are you sure they shouldn't be sounding the alarms? Hurtling through space, bound to the light of a candle burning at both ends? It is imminent, isn't it? Surely you see this!

Thomas: Sure. Shut up.

Peter: Then WHY??

Thomas: Because you won't stop fucking crying about it!

Peter: No, I mean how can this happen? Simultaneously people know their lives, experiences, and pain is all for naught--yet they go on about it like the great glaring fact doesn't exist for them.

Thomas: How long will I have to listen to you? Maybe your "fact" isn't such.

Peter: As long as we live, brother. One could challenge the fact. The human condition of the sun as a star, our imminent destruction of our planet, the ultimate brevity and meaningless of existence. But what for the pain?

Thomas: If you would speak less, the universe would be less painful for me.

Peter: Until someone says, "YES, PETER!" I writhe mocked and alone.

Thomas: You're a selfish sadist.

Peter: I'm not trying to hurt you. These are gasps for air, pleas for help, cries of solitude.

Thomas: Every dramatic gasp, plea, and cry twists the knife in my ear.

Peter: So that's all you have? Just shut up?

Thomas: Yeah, pretty much. Also, if you can find nice textiles it makes the pain less.