The world around us is a scary place. We have always wondered why despite all reason it remains so fraught with fear.
One can hardly turn around without a volcano eruption, an earthquake, a tornado, a mad bomber on a bus that can’t slow down, a perfect storm, or some fool group of kids wandering into the woods then splitting up and ending badly dead.
Fear is a rational response to that.
But why does it always happen?
Why is the root cause always something temporary?
After the kids are eaten, the swamp is safe again.
After the shark is killed, the beach is safe.
Of course, sometimes the safety is temporary too.
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water, there’s another shark and a bigger boat.
Or the cruise ship you’re on to recover from your ordeal with the bus also has a run-in with a mad bomber.
And sometimes we just can’t fathom what is really going on. We are still dealing with the aftermath of that innocent authoress who invited murderers and their victims to dinner week after week for more than a decade. We all lived in fear of being asked to dinner.
To give us hope, it does appear that the school of philosophy known as multiplayer solipsism may have provided a hint of the deeper truth. There are many worlds, and many of those worlds are merely fiction in some of the others. We see nothing but fear because we are written that way. We are nothing but a world of disaster and mystery, a figment of the imagination of an author.
Or are we?
The Raven may have set me up, but at least I have my teddy bear. Or is that a towel?