Phil tries to keep his thoughts in check. He needs an army of them to be his warriors in the struggle that is his life. But they are undisciplined and go their own ways, when he required them most. While sitting drinking his coffee, he attempts to plan his assault on the day. But his thoughts are of the heat and bitterness of the coffee and will not be pulled away to practicality. Then he wonders is black a color or the absence of it.
He looks up and founds himself in the driverís seat of his car. He doesnít know how he got there. Momentarily he is frightened and wonders how long he will survive on the highway if he canít focus on driving. But the next thought is, he would be breaking the social contract all drivers agree to when they learn how to drive. And then what if no one followed any of societyís rules? Chaos would be, could only be, the outcome of that.
He realized he still sitting there in his car. The car wonít move without him taking control. But he canít control his thoughts - how can he control his body to make the car move? Everything is so complicated. Like the difference between picking up a pencil and writing with it. How is either done? How does a thought become a deed?
He remembers the car. With a massive effort, he wills his hand to turn the ignition key. The car obediently roars to life and then settles into a calm purr. Phil knows he can safely drive this machine to work- his thoughts be damned. He puts the shifter into drive and gives the car the gas.
The traffic on the road seems to part like the Red Sea. Clearly, the major social contracts are still in place. He didnít have to think of how to get to work, it is automatic. He just went and after a time arrived. On the way he wonders about the Big Bang, the beginning of life and how he knows to take each breath.
Walking into his office he looks around and sits at his desk. He looks at his computer, turns it on and everything is what it was or would ever be.