Just a Perfect Day, part 4

Is it predestination that wraps itself in the cloak of chance, or the irreversibility of choice that causes the illusion of determinism, or is this question itself the barking of a delusional dog up an illusory tree: an invalid question asked by an overgrown brain that at first evolved as a supremely adaptive tool for hunting and gathering, and the passing on of genes but somehow, as in a differential equation, this evolutionary solution overshot, went beyond the intended goal, and not only invented condoms, thereby defeating its very purpose of existence, but also started asking questions that were not meant to be asked, that nothing in nature had thought of an answer for, that didn’t even exist outside of its web of neurons?

But if it is so, and the human brain is an evolutionary flaw, or anomaly, was its creation a matter of blind chance or predestined fate, etched into the womb that was the big bang itself, if there ever was such a thing?

Be it choice or fate, the present reality is one of many possible permutations and is only distinguished from the others by the fact that it is indeed the one that is “real”ized. So one could easily imagine how it could have been that Bob’s mother, who plays the lottery religiously, could have called him at 7 a.m. on the Sunday morning following that disastrous Saturday night to wake him up, startled, not knowing for a second or two where he is exactly, the bitter aftertaste of last night still clearly present in his mood, to inform him that her combination of digits arranged sided by side on a small piece of paper turned out to be the winning combination and that they are now millionaires, and how upon hearing this Bob would rub his eyes and ask if she’s alright to which she would say that she knew he wouldn’t believe her and “here’s your dad, talk to I him, what are the chances that we both went mad on the same day?” and Bob, once reassured by his dad of loads of cash awaiting impatiently for his arrival, would hang up the phone, throw a swift uppercut in the chill Sunday air of the room and yell “YES!”, all caps.

However, it is merely a tautology that things that are not probable, don’t usually happen, and Bob had had a whole night of unusual occurrences just the night before and now, unfortunately, it was back to normalcy. So there was no phone call to announce winning lottery tickets, which means that he did at least get to enjoy an uninterrupted Sunday morning sleep. Also, not to leave him in too bad a shape, he did eventually end up getting more that enough money from the insurance company to fix his car.