But this worldview saturates Dick's writing. The fake half-world of Ubik. Jory, feeding on souls with the grinding teeth of a sheep. The entropic kipple of his original "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" The fakes, simulacra, knockoffs, masks and cheap copies running through EVERY novel like the details of a massive Ponzi scheme.
Gnosticism is the ultimate conspiracy theory. We're living in a fake reality. It's not the "Maya" of Hinduism. This ain't no illusion—it's a deliberate deception. A con. The store where you milk the rubes. The sheep pen where you convinve the trusting little bleaters you're the "Good Shepherd" until the day comes when you cut their throats, chop them to bits, roast and eat them, with a little mint jelly.
This isn't the Borges airless NeoPlatonism. Dick's devils sink their teeth in you. We're living in a hell realm. Cannibalism is the rule. Or its polite disguise: exploitation.
But a good screenwriter is never a passive conduit.
Decartes said reality can't be a dream.
Because God (by definition) is good and he wouldn't f*** with us, QED. Gnosticism says "The entity you call 'God' is a pretender. He isn't good. And he's definitely f***ing with us."
Decartes said reality can't be a dream.
Because God (by definition) is good and he wouldn't f*** with us, QED. Gnosticism says "The entity you call 'God' is a pretender. He isn't good. And he's definitely f***ing with us."
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