Macrocosm, microcosm

"I can only believe," Gentry said, "that this was pre-determined. Prefigured by the form of my previous work. I wouldn't pretend to understand how that might be, but ours is not to question why, is it, Slick Henry?" He tapped out a sequence on one of his keyboards. "Have you ever considered the relationship of clinical paranoia to the phenomenon of religious conversion?"

"What's he talking about?" Cherry asked.

Slick glumly shook his head. If he said anything, it would only encourage Gentry's craziness.

Now Gentry went to the big display unit, the projection table. "There are worlds within worlds," he said. "Macrocosm, microcosm. We carried an entire universe across a bridge tonight, and that which is above is like that below...it was obvious, of course, that such things must exist, but I'd not dared to hope..." He glanced coyly back over a black-beaded shoulder. "And now, we'll see the shape of the little universe our guest's gone voyaging in."

[William Gibson, Mona Lisa Overdrive]

Artist Statement: Image Story