Ram Nad came out of infinity, and answered with welcoming gesture: “Imbecile, why do you trouble me?”
“Where,” I said, “are Georgiana and Dolores, you depraved and disgusting pundit?”
“How do I know, pig?”
But this limpid flow of pure reason was not, it seemed to me, really headed for Ram Nad's soul secret. I skilfully shifted the attack.
“Why, in this way you might have an idea, illustrious. As I understand your theory of everything, it's this: The entire universe, you say, is only a general idea which has the misfortune to be particularised in spots. Normally, it's just an abstract conception, but parts of the conception have somehow blundered into a curious condition called concreteness. A very distressing condition, very. Bless my soul! Concreteness is an awful catastrophe.”
“As you state it so, it may be so stated,” said Ram Nad.
“Now then, if any person then, such as Georgiana or Dolores, either tragically, or peacefully, or in any manner whatever, becomes dead, you say of them, simply: They have returned to generality; they are no more separately existent; they are rid of the burden of identity; they have, so to speak, disappeared in that airy original mixture again. Such would be your description of the case.”
“You possess some misunderstood fragments of truth, O brother,” said Ram Nad.
“Very good. But see here! When you churn things in that remarkable basket of yours, and they are gone, and I ask: 'Where are they?' you invariably say: 'They have become general ideas.' When I ask why I can't see or touch them, you answer, 'General ideas are not visible or tangible, but are of the mind purely.' Sometimes, at this point, I have perhaps ejaculated, 'Gammon!' I apologise. Sometimes, on the other hand, you have exclaimed, 'Imbecile!' I forgive. The question is this: What's the difference between being generalised in a basket, and being generalised by drowning? Are they not the same? Or do you follow my argument, illustrious?”
Ram Nad considered.