Is this how you treat me? my Scotch uncle asked. Yes, it is, Ursula said. So they were talking to each other, now? Was i some kind of switchboard operator? (I was expressing consonants using my Scotch uncle’s voice, as opposed to my own—he needed the exercise). I didn’t know how good an idea this was, though, because i was still thinking about math problems. But, like I said, I wanted to get to know the whole person, and yes, it seemed mutually beneficial if Ursula and these other people got to know each other, since, in fact, each one of these people was a facet of me—the better she understands them, the better she understands me. It seemed as if, in this way, our love was growing, because, as she stored information about herself with them, she become more real—grounded and defined by a cast of characters that all exist in their own right—which makes it seem that, yes, if Ursula is defined there, then it is more likely that she is defined here, and, consequently, they would come to recognize Ursula, and I would come to recognize Ursula, and so, well, based on how I recognized Ursula, they had that to go on, which made it more likely that, through them, the Ursula I imagined was a little more likely to be the Ursula that I imagined—not some unknown entity. It was still possible the true Ursula was someone behind this Ursula, and I would find that out better based on the relations between the Ursula I projected and the Ursula that they responded to, but, like I said, it would be easier for them if their Ursula and my Ursula were the same person.
then my Scotch uncle said, “Johnny—who’s there?” So he knew my name—and that was kind of a big deal because I never introduced myself. Hence, I, in the future, must exist in some way, shape, or form. You’re really getting all the fire power together, Ursula said. I saw her in my mind’s eye, perhaps in an unfavorable light—a function, I think, of how close we were; when you’re always together, you sometimes see the other when they are not at their ideal best—it’s a trade-off—time spent together meant more security, which is how people could spend so much time together, when it probably meant, at some point, passing gas at an importune time—something that, hopefully, wouldn’t become acceptable, but, nonetheless, something that was bound to happen. Sometimes, also, we see what we fear, and our minds compensate, casting the quote unquote unfavorable light—a phenomenon that was usually painted over when you went out together, clean and made up to look your best, and you saw, then, how others looked at the one you, out of fear, might’ve pushed away.
Because you consider, don’t you, the state you’d be in if this person that had become an important, ever present part of your life, was suddenly removed from the equation? How would you cope? Hence the reaction, and, naturally, if you could overcome it, you began to realize: I don’t just love this person—I now depend on this person to get by—they’ve become an essential part of my life, and, hence, I’ll be sure that i don’t take them for granted. Ursula was pleased—and, well, I knew why she was blushing on camera. It wasn’t because she’d just had sex with her boyfriend, which, naturally, is how I imagined it, but, on the contrary, she was high on the possibility that others or some other significant other would step in, and she’d be happier that she’d ever been. Of course the possibility existed that her boyfriend that she loved sometimes took her for granted, and, by winning over the other end of the camera, she could show him that she was everything to him. But the only problem with that was this: if he was taking her for granted, then that already opened the door to a stranger on the other side of the camera, so, even in this case, possibilities outside their relationship existed.
You’re the sandman, my scotch uncle said. not sure what he meant by that, so, in Ursula’s voice, I asked him. I mean you’re thin, he said. Seeming nonsense, but that’s what he said. You have everything going in your favor—it must be great to be you, everybody wants to be you, you do nothing but amaze us. That was great, so I said, “I hope I entertain you—happiness is the opposite of boredom, so, the way this works is, I don’t lament being me because I’m loved and respected, and you don’t lament being you because when I entertain you I show you that I love and respect you. That’s how it’s possible to be at the center of someone’s world—and have no problem with it.” I guess. then Ursula said, this is an impending disaster; that told me that she considered, now, that, if some great change took place, she could face emotional setbacks.
Such as living by myself? “Yes,” i said. “Without constant reassurance that you’re needed and wanted—you may have to tap into faith. You may find that you need to believe in something, such as yourself, for example, but also a higher power—some underlying structure that will make things work out for the best, too.” Don’t grass on me. “What, that you don’t believe in God?” But I think deep down, she did. I think she believed that she was the center of the universe, and that she’d always stomp the competition. Which maybe she would—but, on that point, I begged to differ. I was the center of the universe. I always had been, and I always would be—at least, that is, for some indefinite time—until the position I held became, for me, a source of entertainment, letting someone else drive for a while—and be, for my sake, the center of some indefinite universe. Perhaps that person was Ursula—that, indeed, was how I defined her, in the beginning, when I said that she was from the future—and my equal.