A vehicle for choice was walking down a street in the early night, before dinner.
Lights were everywhere in this twentieth-century modern metropolis.
Something was up to his right. They were lights, any mated lights, smaller than many the vessel screened out on a daily basis.
But this one,it bothered him.
He looked away.
Here endeth the story.
I can’t do it.
Of course he comes back. Hell, he doesn’t even have to, he looks at it after he looks(cools) away. He has to. He looks.
It’s a TV. Reagan’s talking(stalking) at a camera on it, trying his best to play the role he’s best remembered for.
He’s not lying, not really. Our vehicle sees through him, through the smile and the suit. Through the husk.
Our hero is slightly dizzy at all the information he gleans from this TV behind this(the) glass. He’s seen(been) TV before. But not like this. This is something else.
He glances(gleans) further, down, down, to the center, through(though) that universe that is Reagan, trying to find his inner truth, his inner motives, intention(intestines). Trying to grasp and understand him.
His voyage to the center of Reagan reaches(reads) a terrible conclusion.
Reagan doesn’t have a center.
Reagan is pure action, action for its own sake. Movements presidential for presidentiality’s sake. The perfect actor, deep in his role. The perfect president.
The exhilaration is so great to bring tears to the vehicle’s eyes. Unsobbing tears, hot tears.
He does not move, lost in the nothingness(coolness) in the center of Reagan.
Then there’s something, like a flying, no, like a talking breeze, that tells him he must go back.
He fights out of the nothingness at the center of Reagan. First it appears he fights Reagan himself, the figure, that doesn’t want his secret to be known. Then he realizes he’s fighting himself, fighting his repulsion at the leaving of perfect suspension in nothingness to wade through disgusting, fleshy, temporal Reagan.
He faces(flees) one last challenge related to some inner fear of televisions, an intense dread that the institution of television itself would crush him psychically. Like it’d crush his mind.
He loses his mind and can’t bring back his knowledge to the world.
I don’t want to end it here either, but(hat) what(hat) can I say? Can I say he came back and saved the world? Have you seen the world?
I must remind myself, like the young fish: this is water, this is water, this is water.
So he came back. He faced(found) his fear in daring inertia, and his accrued velocity powered him through, back to his body in the beginning of the night and it was going to rain, believe me.
So he was there(then), but he couldn’t follow through with his life. He could be great through(though) self-destruction, but he didn’t want to do what Reagan did.
This story’s moral regarding(regulation) self-transcendence seems to be the opposite of what the other stories seem to be. I understand this confusion. I won’t address it further than to assure you it occurs only to those that haven’t seen(seem) the dark beasts at the edge of the nothingness, at the core of all things, including Reagan.
So I guess our hero put his plan in motion(notion), a plan whose effect became visible in 2017(do17), we hope.