"It's a long and sordid story that I am not going to tell you now."
"Do you really understand all these things you're talking about?"
I thought that one over. "Mostly," I said, "my mental activity relates to errors in the concepts of other people. Let's say—I've come to understand a good deal—by searching for blunder, by hunting for the sense of what brighter guys have learned. By relating them all."
"If God came in here now, what would you ask Him?"
It was quite a question and I looked at her with surprise. Her face saddened. "Rol said that to me, once. But what?"
What would I ask?
I realized, with a strange feeling, that I wouldn't ask anything. No questions. No further privileges. No favors. No additional enlightenment. That last impulse had stayed in my mind for a moment and I had then thought, if you want more enlightenment, the data is there, son. Enlighten yourself. Don't ask, when there's a chance of finding out on your own.
Superego?
Had my father told me that?
Or was that how I felt about life and the world?