The proffessor scribbled all he knew about reality into his scrap book as quickly as could, writing at an amazing pace in a dead tongue older then time itself. He knew that all he knew he could not know unless the centre would hold, "I think therefore I am" was as best a centre any being could hope for. He knew that he existed but that was it, all that was happening around him was mostly likely the work of 'The Evil Genius' Unless the proffessor could know that he knew as much as he believed. The dilema was that the proffessor believed he could never know as much as he believed and if knew that to be completely true... It didn't matter anymore the sky split in two, the earth disappeared and gravity ceased to exist, he no longer needed anything now, there were no limitations any more which left him trapped in a world void of possibilities.
that's odd. i wrote one word: "diversity", and everything stayed just exactly as it really was. =^^= .../\...
