Collected Letters of Francis St. James, Letter 13
The Magnetic Sea, still
I am sorely confused. As today might very well be Christmas, and as virtual the entirety of my life is ‘in a rut,’ it seemed appropriate that I make use of your parting present to me: the ‘End’ machine. I know not what I expected when I pressed down the lever: explosions? revelations? a fall of golden lotus flowers from the midnight sky? I did not expect a void, an emptiness, a nothingness, a sheer absence of any occurrence whatsoever. I have waited what I estimate to be a day, and still there is nothing.
I know your mechanical abilities - I apprenticed under you for years - and I am well aware that if the ‘End’ did nothing, then it was because you so intended it. I do not understand. Is it a parable? An allegory? A subtle reproach?
I do not understand. I do not understand.
I would appear to remain,
Francis St. James