Awareness of Man, and Fish

Marcus Joric was, in a manner of speaking, a man of about 35 years of what used to be known as age. On the day that everything went haywire, Marcus had disappeared. To those who knew him, he was probably the first sign that something had been different that day. In all his 9 years of teaching, he had not missed a single class before this. None of the students in any of his philosophy classes that day, nor any of his colleagues or even family members, had a clue where he had gone that morning when he had left the house punctually at 6:20, as always. They may have been worried about him at first, but it ceased to matter once the breakdown began.

Marcus, it transpired, had gone scuba diving. He had made the decision quickly and easily, as though he had been planning it for months. Without so much as a word to his wife and sons, he had loaded his gear into the car and headed for the usual spot.

Staring into the glossy eyes of a pale orange fish the size of his dog, Nietzsche, Marcus instantly became aware that the universe was changing.

“Physics has just broken down,” he informed the fish, whose bottom lip dropped and gave the distinct impression that it was goggling at what Marcus had said.

“Cool,” said the fish, already beginning to break apart into seperate chunks of goo.

The End

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