Murray was forty-five years old, in the prime of life, and with all parts of his body in perfect working order except for certain key portions of his coronary arteries, but that was enough.
Darkness was invading his consciousness and off in a distance, as a last glimmer of sight, there was a figure of light, vaguely human in form, and radiating warmth.Even as he thought that, the light faded, but the warmth remained. There was no lessening of the peace even though in all the Universe only he remained – and the Voice.
The Voice said, “I have done this so often and yet I still have the capacity to be pleased at success.” Murray said, “Is this Heaven?”The Voice said, “This is no place as you understand place.”
I constructed the Universe in order to have more facts to deal with. I inserted the uncertainty principle, entropy, and other randomisation factors to make the whole not instantly obvious. It has worked well for it has amused me throughout its entire existence.Murray said, “Do you actually think there’s a chance of my obliging you in this manner?”
Murray said, “I will be thinking through eternity? Forever?” “Yes. The Voice said, “And you do not find thought and discovery worthwhile in itself? You do not find it requiring no further purpose?” The Voice said, “I do not wish to constrain you directly. I will not need to. Since you can do nothing but think, you will think. You do not know how not to think.”
For what else had the Voice been searching for countless billions of years? And for what other reason had intelligence been created and certain specimens salvaged and put to work, but to aid in that great search? And Murray intended that it would be he, and he alone, who would succeed.
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