This is a work in progress title:

Concrete Operational

This is a work in progress synopsis:

The book seeks to tackle the question: Given you had the choice, would you opt for freedom from responsibility or freedom of will? Would you go with a fate, causal determinism of sorts that allows you to be guilt free and give meaning to your decisions, or would you battle for freedom of will, freedom of choice, that you were in fact responsible for your actions, however unintelligible and random, but at least you were free, on at least some level, to choose? It revolves around this question in a sci-fi epic sort of nature, spanning time and space, characters and concepts, hopefully you’ll get a bit more of the gist as more posts are published, or read the About section for more info.

This is a snippet from the first chapter:

“Let me ask you this John-Face,” he started with an intention of sincere importance, jolting as to show him his back.

“If you knew all your actions were inconsequential, everything you did from the second you were born until the day you die, from every slight hand movement to each goliath leap, screaming orgasm to perhaps the first punch you threw in high school,” his voice rose in volume and intensity, he turned to face the journalist and bent over putting his drink down, raising his right hand in front of his face and clenching his fingers as if to grab an invisible ball he spoke with closed teeth and bulging eyes. “What. If. None. Of. It. Mattered?”

“What if it had been planned for you? It was all a brisk walk along a path that had been set out for you, you could not deviate from it, you had no choice in anything you did, each movement served a purpose but not your own, would you accept that?! Would you feel safe in the knowledge that you were not responsible for any of your actions?! Would you lay back on a cloud of joy freedom from responsibility brought you, or would you kick back!? Fight with every muscle in your body, every electrical nerve point in your brain for the freedom of choice, would you indeed, give everything up yourself so others could have that, or realizing that future was never possible, take it all away, take everyone and everything away in a crowning explosion to end all things? How much of a man do you think you are John?!” He grabbed the arm of an old Persian chair opposite the journalist and with a trembling sank into it, catching his breath as he bounced on the old cushion, sending a fine cloud of dust into the beam lit room.

“Those are my chains, the very fabric of the universe by which I am bound, one choice to end all choices, the impact of which is beyond your reckoning. I’ll take you on a ride now, to explain things.” He twitched, shot forward with laser like precision and stopped millimeters away from the young journalists face and softly spoke.

“What sort of stuff do you think you’re made of boy?” He could almost see his whiskey laden breath creeping up the boy’s nostrils, catching the back of his throat and he could see him gag on the powerful odor.