R. Joiner
Any mystery writer knows that in every clever design there must be at least one unforeseen element that when discovered will bring down the perpetrator’s entire house of cards in such an ironic fashion that it can neatly epitomize the ludicrousness of any mere human being trying to arrange God’s universe. This item is to be discovered by God’s designated instrument, the good guy detective, of course. In this way, the solution is predetermined, as if time is made to run backwards so that all the bifurcations in the road of life, and the bifurcations of those bifurcations, and so on can only lead back to that one monadic instance in which the infinite confusion of our existence is explained. But, what if God’s universe were to be built on the indeterminate model, as if Gödel or Heisenberg himself were adding up the evidence until the solution, through the mere trying to find it, created a dénouement in which the reader, tossing the book in disgust, knew less about the rights and the wrongs than when he first began turning the pages?
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