“It is your question. You answer it.”
I turned to go.
“Wait! Where do you travel?”
“South, to appear in a morality play.”
Just then, Hugi flew out of the fog and landed atop the head. He pecked at it and laughed.
“Don’t waste your time, Corwin. There is much less here than meets the eye,” he said.
The giant lips shaped my name. Then; “He is indeed the one?”
“That’s him, all right,” Hugi replied.
“Listen, Corwin,” said the sunken giant. “You are going to try to stop the Chaos, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Do not do it. It is not worth it. I want things to end. I desire a release from this condition.”
“I already offered to help you out. You turned me down.”
“Not that sort of release. An end to the whole works.”
“That is easily done,” I said. “Just duck your head and take a deep breath.”
“It is not only personal termination that I desire, but an end to the whole foolish game.”
“I believe there are a few other folks around who would rather make their own decisions on the matter.”
“Let it end for them, too. There will come a time when they are in my position and will feel the same way.”
“Then they will possess the same option. Good day.”
I turned and walked on.
“You will, too!” he called after me.
As I hiked along, Hugi caught up with me and perched on the end of my staff.
“It’s neat to sit on old Ygg’s limb now he can’t-Yikes!”
Hugi sprang into the air and circled.
“Burned my foot! How’d he do that?” he cried.
I laughed.
“Beats me.”
He fluttered for a few moments, then made for my right shoulder.
“Okay if I rest here?”
“Go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
He settled.
“The Head is really a mental basket case, you know.”
I shrugged my shoulders and he spread his wings for balance.
“He is groping after something,” he went on, “but proceeding incorrectly by holding the world responsible for his own failings.”
“No. He would not even grope to get out of the mud,” I said.
“I meant philosophically.”
“Oh, that sort of mud. Too bad.”
“The whole problem lies with the self, the ego, and its involvement with the world on the one hand and the Absolute on the other.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes. You see, we are hatched and we drift on the surface of events. Sometimes, we feel that we actually influence things, and this gives rise to striving. This is a big mistake, because it creates desires and builds up a false ego when just being should be enough. That leads to more desires and more striving and there you are, trapped.”
“In the mud?”
“So to speak. One needs to fix one’s vision firmly on the Absolute and learn to ignore the mirages, the illusions, the fake sense of identity which sets one apart as a false island of consciousness.”
“I had a fake identity once. It helped me a lot in becoming the absolute that I am now-me.”
“No, that’s fake, too.”
“Then the me that may exist tomorrow will thank me for it, as I do that other.”
“You are missing the point. That you will be fake, too.”
“Why?”
“Because it will still be full of those desires and strivings that set you apart from the Absolute.”
“What is wrong with that?”
“You remain alone in a world of strangers, the world of phenomena.”
“I like being alone. I am quite fond of myself. I like phenomena, too.”
“Yet the Absolute will always be there, calling to you, causing unrest.”
“Good, then there is no need to hurry. But yes, I see what you mean. It takes the form of ideals. Everyone has a few. If you are saying that I should pursue them, I agree with you.”
“No, they are distortions of the Absolute, and what you are talking about is more striving.”
“That is correct.”
“I can see that you have a lot to unlearn.”
“If you are talking about my vulgar instinct for survival, forget it.”
The trail had been leading upward, and we came now to a smooth, level place, almost paved-seeming, though strewn lightly with sand. The music had grown louder and continued to do so as I advanced. Then, through the fog, I saw dim shapes moving, slowly, rhythmically. It took several moments for me to realize that they were dancing to the music.