We artists (for I know you are a kindred spirit, Robert) use the data that is presented to us, but without taking too much stock of it. Our true allegiance lies not with worldly or unworldly views, but rather with some sort of formal elegance, which, for me, defines art as closely as I can do it. But either you understand these things intuitively or you don’t. Do you understand?
What corresponds to vision in you is our ability to sense wormholes, both individual and in patterns, as well as to sense and often identify other worms, and to sense certain irregularities or inconsistencies (technically called Anomalies) in the density and shape-structure of the world we move through. These Anomalies are sometimes of definite shape, size and thickness and sometimes are impenetrable. It is this fact that lends a possible credence to the otherwise discredited theory that we inhabit a crystalline world. This theory holds that the Anomalies we encounter from time to time are actually zones formed by sets of faces within our crystalline world. The zones may be considered points where intersections are all parallel, and hence impenetrable. I’m not too knowledgeable on all this, but I’m mentioning it in the hopes it’ll interest you.
The primary objection to the crystalline world theory is that if it were so we should be able to find an orderly arrangement of zones and faces, and thus be able to deduce the shape of the world. Which of course we cannot do.
This objection is answered to the satisfaction of some by the Semi or Quasi Crystalline Worlders, who hold that our world has certain crystalline properties, but is not itself a pure crystal, and is not bound by the laws of Symmetry which define classic crystal growth and prediction. They say, some of them, that the world is a living world with certain crystalline properties.
I don’t mean to sneer at the crystallographerworms; however, metaphysically, they may be suspect. But aesthetically, they provide the artist worm with fascinating figures to inscribe via wormhole. Worms at the comic book stage usually inscribe simple cubes, staying well outside the critical limits of cancellation where lines meet, of course, and even then frequently abandoning the figure before completion because they have grown bored or thought of something else to do.
And of course plenty of worms are not interested in crystalline inscription art and prefer to spend their lives making tight helical search-patterns of various degrees of tightness depending on their timidity: a right helical search-pattern is safer and allows its maker to consume more “safe” (i.e. unwormholed) earth. But these tight search patterns are confining and life-limiting, because their extreme angularity holds down speed and therefore self-expression to a minimum, and so the makers of them tend to stay small and slow and lead a dull but safe life.
That sort of thing is not for me, however. Jill keeps on preaching the virtues of the helical way to me, but I am an artist worm and the fascinations of artistic wormhole inscription, the highest form of creation, call to me ceaselessly.
In fact, I made quite a name for myself recently for my composition of three linked tetragonal pyramids with single pyramids adorning all of the points except one, where I inscribed a tetrahedron for comic relief. I got quite a lot of criticism for that by the classicists, which pleased me since I am dedicated to asymmetry. Well, that’s putting it too strongly, I believe in symmetry, of course, as every artist must, but I believe that the frozen perfection of symmetry must be marred deliberately by the mystery and truth of asymmetry. I suppose you’d call me a romantic. But there it is, my creed, and I’m not ashamed of it.
You may laugh at my concept of planned asymmetries, since the nature of the world and the incursions of other worms distort our creations anyhow. Some would even question whether my third tetragonal bipyramid deserved that name at all. Its shape was far from perfect. I had to do some quick maneuvering in a seventy percent filled area to finish it off. It’s rather a distorted figure, but that’s no reason to say that it looks like a wormturd, as one critic said, with extreme injustice.
Well, that’s how it goes in the art game. At least I caused a stir, and showed that I can go beyond the simple-minded geometries which is the current artistic fad.
I promised to tell you something about what I do, and there it is. I’ve simplified it considerably, of course. There’s a great deal more involved in figure-inscription than I’ve indicated. But perhaps I’ve said enough to give you an idea.
What do you do, Robert?
This week I’m doing repeated contact twinning of a pseudo-hexagonal shape that came to me in a dream. It’s a pleasantly repetitious activity of a mildly pleasing aesthetic character, and gives me plenty of long lines along which to build up speed so that I’ll have the energy to communicate with you. By following a set contact twinning procedure I satisfy my form-need without having to actively invent a figure. I do this somewhat reluctantly, because I’ve got some big artistic projects in mind. Some of them would astonish you, I think. And Jill thinks I’m getting more than a little loony! But I restrain myself from entering these grand projects, in part for Jill’s sake, in part out of cowardice (for I contemplate some hazardous patterns!). But most of all I desist from them so that I can give my attention/energy to these communications with you, Robert.
Your explanation of what you do with your life was a little unclear, but I gather that you are a maker of popular aesthetic configurations just as I am. When you say you get “paid” for your work, in my terms that means you get increased fame and enhanced sustenance in some form that you can use. If I understand correctly, you are a maker and seller of your own sort of wormhole structures. We’re very much alike in certain ways. But this matter of “selling” is not at all obvious to me. I take it that your wormhole structures which you call stories are portable and can be isolated for specific distribution to your solid fellows. And they reward you in some way that I hope you will clarify for me in later communication.
I find it a strange idea, and I can’t imagine what they could give you aside from fame. What could other creatures possibly have to do with your sustenance? I guess I’ve supposed that you live according to the way we worms feed ourselves. As I’ve explained, we make our wormholes, and thus create artistic patterns that can only be rewarded by fame, since nothing else could penetrate the isolation in which we worms must live. It’s difficult for me to imagine getting sustenance from others rather than being annihilated by them. Please explain.
It was good to hear from you, Robert, although a lot of your message was garbled, or I just didn’t understand parts of it. But I think I empathized with the important stuff. You tell me that you’re having difficulties with the directing of your wormhole just now; you’ve got a lot of semi-threatening and sometimes ambiguous convergences to worry about as well, and that you’ve also got to make “a living” (please define in your next message!). And so it is difficult for you to set up the necessary circumstances and summon the necessary energy and focus to communicate with me.
I quite understand, I sense your eagerness to continue our association, so I know you’re not trying to put me off. Get in touch when you can. Your buddy Ron the Worm understands. I’ve got difficulties of my own, so my communications may get spotty from time to time also.
You tell me you haven’t told any of your fellow humans about our communication, for reasons I understand perfectly. But you seem to have some idea of finding a form of acceptable disclosure for this experience via your artistic medium, your storytelling.
Go to it, pal. Our talks have given me some ideas, too.
The beauty of telepathic communication is the way the process automatically translates your meanings into symbols and terms comprehensible and familiar to the other. Thus, your name, which in actuality must be incomprehensible and unvibrational to me, comes through, via the navel of telepathy (and perhaps, who knows, divine grace) as a familiar name to me—Robert, the name of several of my friends, as a matter of fact.