An Introduction

He was going about the place, barely skimming at anything for more than two seconds, his mind splendidly isolated from any thoughts with good or bad implications. There was a certain constant shifting of states, between a relaxed, lethargic dormancy and a self-enforced cognisance. He submitted to the sleep that offered content and salvation, but his apathy brought an ironic counterpart of guilt, and he suddenly found himself questioning his relaxed state. However, this empowering consciousness was so plastic that it was only a matter of minutes before he was sucked up in what seemed like an unending sleep. A sigh led to a dilation of pupils; the blood rushing towards his brain kept changing mind. This recursive state shift, which he regarded as a social behaviour, was independent from the physical reality: he felt the flow through sleep, breakfast, commuting, work, chatter, flirting, lunch, poetry, masturbation, TV-gazing and what not. Now, he was relentlessly circling about the house, catching a glimpse of the wearied wallpaper, the storied walnut furniture, and the bathroom door. Every now and then a part of the parquet under his feet would let out a squeak of a third state of being, but it was so ephemeral that he did not want to go mad in the pursuit of breaking out of his dual existence.

All in all, Crosby was a regular man.

He was named Mobius Humphrey Crosby, and neither Mobius nor Humphrey offered practical labels. He never adopted the idea of being called Crosby, but as all inherited features, this one was not to be trifled with.