Anti-strength Theffummon awoke with a start. What a bright morning this was! Or was it mid-day already? The sun seemed rather high in the sky. Whatever was the meaning of that? Theffummon was not certain that the position of the sun was related to the time of day, though he was often impatiently notified by those around him (at great length) that the two were most certainly related. Such details were just so hard to keep track of, after all.

Theffummon wanted to run. Was it better to run towards someplace or away from someplace? He guessed that today he’d try to run towards something or someone, perhaps towards his daughter. He didn’t feel as though he had any reason to hurry, so he started walking in her general direction.

He contemplated as he walked. Flowers. What a bright and glorious day! When we think about the sun, we can only hope the sun is thinking about us.

One thing Theffummon knew that others were unaware of was that the sun that shone most directly upon the world was encumbered with a mind, a great brain at its core. The brain could think and think, and as it thought it transmitted impulses in the form of light waves out in all directions. This brain was, in the mind of the Anti-strength, worth the sacrifice of a few of his children now and again.

But was that what the brain wanted? Is that now what the brain wants of each of us? Suppose we have no children – what then? And the brain, you would think it is so smart, but what is it thinking about? These questions and more scrolled across the marquee in Theffummon's mind, but remained unanswered for the duration of the walk.

Little and anew, before and between long, the Anti-strength reached the one he called daughter, this one whose name in fact was "Viable Alternative," known to far more as V-alt.

"How is my friendly daughter today?" said Theffummon, implying things that, while incidentally true, were not necessarily so.

"My daughter is quite," replied the younger being.

"Ah, and for so," he replied, furrowing his brow. "Daughter, how do you like the sun?"

"Sun this and sun that, the sun is a fucking shithole!" she exclaimed.

"The sun has a BRAIN! And it can hear you because it CREATED YOU!!!!" shouted Theffummon, fear and rage flashing in succession across the surface of his child-/devil-ish face.

"I don't care, don't you know that? Don't you fucking know that I DON"T CARE?!?!? The sun, with its great brain and all the great things it has most certainly probably done, whatever they are, that sun, that sun, that sun. It is not me and it is not my idol! What do you not know about the sun? Do you not know that it does not want you to sacrifice me? The sun, its great brain and all the great things it has most certainly probably done, what can it do but burn us? Burn us from our skin to our bones to our minds, to all that which makes us say that we are 'us'? Burned by the sun. Have you -"

"But –"

"No fatqer, have you, have you LOOKED at the sun? I mean really LOOKED at it? It will burn your eyes fatqer, burn them out. You love the sun because you think it helps you see things, but really, if you LOOKED at it, I mean really LOOKED at it, you would never see anything ever again! That's the sun, that's the ball in the sky with the mind that blinds, that's your idol - your idol but NOT MINE, so next time you want to talk about the sun, just FUCK OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!"

So Anti-strength Theffummon did just that, knowing more about the sun than he had just minutes earlier. But eventualistically and much eventuaded, he returned to a state of questioning, and this time he knew his daughter must be approached, for there was no other to whom such a question about contemplating conversation as he now had could be addressed. He ran back toward her, thus fulfilling his need to run and expending one Energy point. When he reached the seven columns between which she typically sat on afternoons such as this, he found that she was not alone. Her sole companion of the hour included her brother, Theffummon's son, whose name was often referred to as P-den. 'P-den,' of course, was a reference to the boy's true name, Plausible Deniability. Upon his well-known approach, his daughter became the first to speak.

"I begin this transaction now and this is how. But how, of all things, do you find yourself to be feeling at the present time, fatqer?"

"Analog synthesis, my name is thee," said Theffummon jokingly. "Ha ha ha," he laughed, for those who could laugh no more, and too for those who respectfully chose not to laugh.

"I turn the knob," replied P-den, attempting to foresee the joke's conclusion, "and what happens?"

"Why boy, you've changed my waveform, and so now I must attack immediately," Theffummon replied. All burst into peals of laughter. Once they quieted down, Anti-strength added in a more solemn tone, "but just as quickly shall I decay and release."

"Well I hate to feedback," said the girl, "but if you're going to talk about the sun again, I hope you've oscillated your pitch."

"Ah, my little ring modulator, so I have. But the question I have now arises only on top of what has come earlier in our day."

"That mixture suited neither you nor I," she warned.

"That, yes, and THAT: is the question!" excited the Anti-strength. "For that question is: what must make the tone of our excellent conversation be that of antagon?"

And naught of answer came.