Bastard Freedom: Chapter 3

They both lay in bed, exhausted after sex like animals, like gods.

And, since the silence after animality and divinity between what in all the world are strangers needs to be filled, she started telling him about the failed Master's thesis that she wrote. 

"I wanted to write about quantum physics. I was going to take the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle to address the underlying anthropic theme behind all quantum measurements and thus have a significant impact on postmodern epistemology." She yawned, and then continued, "Nobody in my university can panel it, the fucking cowards."

He laughed at that, a rumbling, aftersex laugh that made her slightly uncomfortably wet again. He said, "I was watching a fighter pilot one time, guiding a missile to a Naval ship. I couldn't help but ask: oh, so you take into account the curvature, don't you? The pilot said no. I shrugged my shoulders." 

Marie's eyebrow went up. "Baby, the reason why is because space-time is also curved..."

"Baby, stop," he interjected. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't..."

Doot, Marie's phone interjected. Reading a message, she uttered, "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Momentarily derailed, Joseph asked, "What is it, baby?" 

"It's John. He says he wants to fuck." 

He had to remember who this John was. In her orbit of men, he learned, there was a John, a Justin, an Aaron, a Richard, another Joseph, and a Drew. Oh, right. The New Yorker. 

His laugh was a pleasure to her ears: "Oh, the fag who committed every weakness known to man in less than twenty words."

"Yes," she said, surprised he remembered, but bored of all the reverse-harem tropes that the universe has been throwing at her lately. 

"Anyway, baby, don't do that to yourself," he continued. "Your education gets in the way of your learning. It is intuition that reveals truth, baby, not science. The model of the universe itself is a political way of alienating us from each other by throwing at us the idea of refinement and manners, and a way of bending us to the will of the West for capitalist models of fact and drug and consumption."

She needs to be careful; she knows he knows his physics, and knows enough metaphysics to get beyond them, and go beyond them he did. He did it sideways, though, and this has puzzled her to no end. Why not, after all, resort to the simulation argument, rather than political modelling? 

So she did what anybody in their right mind would do: she proceeded to kneel before his legs once again.