Four days later I met Jones in the parking lot of the Quack House. We went through our normal ritual, our barter for the evening, but neither of us spoke. We just sat there thinking. It was weird. At one point it felt as if I could hear Jones talking. Not to me, but to himself. And not out loud either. I was listening to his thoughts. At first I got scared. I did not want to know what was going on in his mind unless he knew about it. I couldn’t take the anxiety, if it was a hidden secret. As I thought this, Jones just smiled. He obviously could hear my thoughts too.
We got out of Jones’ car and walked through the propped doors. Everyone else – Nisbub, Nameno, Billy, and the other six I still had not learned names of, were already there. Nisbub was in his typical corner, the shadows. Nameno was at the bar talking to Billy. Jones and I sat down. Quacktails were already waiting. Nameno turned towards his audience.
“Quacks,” he began, “What do you think? We have been presented with a riddle in which to solve if we wish to go any further. Who knows what will happen if we don’t answer it correctly. But I wish not to go down that avenue, as we have very important business to attend to. Under each table below your seats are two pieces of paper and a pencil. Don’t get them yet; let me finish. On one sheet I want you to write what you think the name for the side which ‘deals in only the past and the future. They analyze both to try to control the present. This gives them a false reality as they are stuck to deal in space-time limitations.’ That sheet is labeled Analyze. One the other sheet I want you to write what you think the name for the side which ‘deals in the present. They sense the moment with their organ of sensation. Their mind registers and catalogues the sensations and the experience as they deal in the Here and Now.’ That sheet is labeled Sense. Please do so now.”
Each of us did as instructed. We knew it had to be one word, but what word could that be? I was thinking so hard that at one point Jones turned to me and reminded, “Drink your Quacktail. It’ll help.” I did. One by one the minutes ticked by as I ran the words over and over through my head. Analyze and Sense. Analyze and Sense. The two were opposites in their description. One dealing in past and future. The other dealing in the present. Control and Organ. False Reality and Moment. Space-Time Limitations and Here and Now. I was lost. I finished my Quacktail. My eyes began to burn, and my head began to spin. I closed my eyes for a few moments and opened them to a kaleidoscopic scene. Billy was already serving the second round, and it seemed everyone else had already turned their papers in and were sitting down again. I even caught Jones sitting back down when I reopened my eyes. He just sat back and relaxed. I couldn’t think of anything and started to panic. The funny thing is, when that happened, I had an even harder time thinking. It was the anxiety. Anxiety - the one thing the Mind has to eliminate, especially if it has to think. Otherwise it just runs crazy without any real purpose. People who analyze get anxiety. I did not need it. I needed to relax. I calmed myself down.
What should I write? Then I heard a voice in my head. It told me just to close my eyes, open them, and write down the first two words I thought of. So I did.
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