We Will All Go to Space

 

(A Pataphysical Proclamation in the Manner of an Exception to Gravity, Dedicated to the Equal and Opposite Reaction of the Void)

In the year of the Imaginary Calendar 0̅ (which is to say, the year that never began and thus never ends), it was decreed by the Supreme College of ’Pataphysicians—seated upon thrones of inverted commas—that every citizen, whether animate, inanimate, or merely probable, shall ascend to the celestial firmament. No exceptions, save for the exception that proves the rule, which itself ascends sideways.

Article 1: The Rocket of Particular Solutions The vehicle of universal translocation shall be the Rocket of Particular Solutions, a contraption forged from the exceptions to Newton’s Third Law. Its fuel? The square root of minus regret, distilled in the alembics of forgotten childhood promises. Each passenger is issued a ticket punched with a hole that is also a black hole, ensuring that arrival and departure occur simultaneously in different time zones.

Article 2: The Astronauts

• The King of France (who does not exist) shall pilot, wearing a crown of dark matter.
• The Average Man (statistically improbable) shall navigate by consulting a map drawn on the inside of his eyelids.
• The Cat of Schrödinger (both alive and dead, plus a third state: mildly annoyed) shall serve as mascot, its wave function collapsing only when observed by customs officials.
• You, dear reader, are already aboard, though you insist you are reading this on solid ground. This is a clerical error in the fabric of reality; please ignore.

Article 3: The Journey Departure occurs at the precise moment when clocks melt in sympathy with Dalí’s perspiration. The rocket ascends not upward but inward, burrowing through the crust of Euclidean pretense until it emerges in the exosphere of the Possible. En route:

1. A layover in the Asteroid Belt of Unfinished Novels, where plot holes are patched with dark energy.
2. Tea with the Man in the Moon, who is actually a woman in the Sun wearing a lunar disguise.
3. A compulsory game of zero-gravity chess against one’s own shadow, which cheats by moving in four dimensions.

Article 4: Arrival Space is not a place but a plural: a parliament of vacuums debating the merits of silence. Upon docking at the Orbital Palace of Equivalent Exceptions, every soul is granted:

• A personal nebula tailored to their dominant neurosis.
• A star that burns with the exact luminosity of their most embarrassing memory.
• The right to vote in the Galactic Referendum on Whether Gravity Was a Good Idea (spoiler: it loses by one imaginary vote).

Article 5: The Return (Optional) Return is forbidden, except by those who never left. They descend in elevators of pure metaphor, stepping out onto terra firma that is slightly firmer than before—now 0.0001% more probable. The rest remain in orbit, forming constellations shaped like question marks.

Epilogue: The Law of Universal Ascent Thus it is written in the Codex of Clinamen: “We will all go to space, except for those who go to the space between spaces, which is the same space, only moreso.” And the void, being exceptionally polite, replies: “After you.”