“How reality is perceived is subjective. This is not to say that those who see things like ghosts are perceiving actual reality.
An example of subjective reality is when someone whos clock is wrong is living in 2:02, when it is really only 2:00 and their clock is fast.
This is technically a different version of reality, as time as an extension of our dimensions causes it to be.
The technicalities here are important as we ride on a number of assumptions about what reality is. You see-”
“Harry,” his wife said, looking at him over her newspaper, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I just thought about this last night when you were asleep.”
Theresa sighed, “Then post about it on your blog but you’d better get ready for work.”
Harry waved a hand, “Yeah, yeah,” but stood anyway and lumbered over to the bedroom.
Harry was a magician, which people always thought was a hilarious name for a modern magician. Older people called him ‘Houdini’ and younger people called him ‘Potter’ but it was all the same.
He was good at card tricks and sleight-of-hand. He lacked other employability skills so his current job was probably as good as it was going to get.
He worked in a casino downtown- one performance in the morning for the families in the restaurant, and another in the evening for the mainstage.
In the middle he walked the casino floor doing minor tricks for guests but usually he blew that off and went for lunch down the street.
The shop down the street served the best meatball marinara subs in the city, and Harry had spilt sauce on his suit more than once.
“Vinny,” Harry said before biting into the sub, “All I’m saying is that an object purchased is also buying the emotional weight of every minute put into its creation.”
Vinny, wiping a hand on his stained apron, blinked at Harry from behind the counter.
Harry sighed, “Yeah, yeah. I get it.”
“Maybe you should make a blog,” Vinny suggested, “Uh, I hear you can get a lot of readers on the websites like that. Get some uh, discourse going.”
“I have a blog Vin, no one reads it. That’s why I gotta tell schmucks like you all about my thoughts. I gotta educate you.”
Vinny snorted, “That’s uh, real kind of you.”
Harry stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and wiped the napkin across his face, “Well, I gotta get to work,” he said around it, “I hope the boss hasn’t realised I’m gone.”
Down the street Harry pushed through the doors of the hotel into the lobby before being intercepted by his boss.
“Where have you been?” She asked sternly.
“I went for a walk. I was thinking about the differences between paying in money, and paying in time. You often can’t get both.”
“Zip it,” she said, raising a hand in the air and closing her fingers at the tips to stop him, “Just go do some card tricks or something. I don’t want to hear it.”
So he did just that: wandered the floor doing tricks for customers with a scowl. He did his evening performance and sleep walked his way home.
At home he adorned his reading classes and opened his blog in the hopes of having gotten some traffic but was ultimately disappointed. Then he checked his email and gasped softly.
My name is Trevor. I have been reading your blog over the past few weeks. You have some very interesting theories.
I would like to discuss some of them with you, specifically about the piece of speculative fiction you wrote regarding if time stopped.
I am a publisher for a small magazine of speculative science-fiction and I would be interested in potentially publishing it, with a little editing. Let me know how you feel about this,
Thanks, Trevor Scott”