Orderly.

Retrieving the morning paper brought with it the extreme torment of having to ignore it coupled with the burden of finding the funny side of the days horrors. I pickled the tea as is normal in this kingdom of cups and warmed my bowels with tartan slippers. The lark sang a song of morning. It was lying. By that time i was on my way to the heathen fields, prayers were to be issued and Sallam was becoming restless.
Endless offers of lager of varying colours and density flooded past my ears, 'beer!' They called, 'beer, beer,beer.' In no volumes for a glass I whispered passing nothings. A man with a sandwich board reading Don't attempt to change the world, change yourself and the world will follow. Sound advice. Could he be the one? I ventured on, my stomach bees pollinating flowers of indigestion. Don't be greedy with the Ether or I'll bury you out here. Should i get the paper?‎
'What was his crime?'
'Daily Mail. Four pages in. He was muttering something like Piers Morgan in a variety of accents.'
'And is that blood on his hands?'
'Strictly speaking it's horseradish but mums the word.'
'Ok, that's fine, take him away. Next.'
'The observer please.' I said, eyes fixed on the loon being dragged away.
'You've had your paper.'
What was he saying? Some conspiracy had silently ensnared me. The clerk brought me home. He walked in front of me in a variety of strange walks which i found bizarre. Back in my abode, there indeed was the paper that the shop judge told about, how did he know? My mind erroneous? I must pray. For gods sake I must pray.
Suddenly, just as the calm seemed to have become a fixture once more, everything collapsed. Nothing fell because gravity too had collapsed. It was a collapse of animation. Relativity had simply been switched off at the molecular level. Atoms abandoned their vehicles and Particles severed their bonds. Every constant occurred for the last time, then nothing. Not the passing of a unit of light, the feel of the vibration of a sound, the artistry of a sight nor the order of nature upon whose very hide rode the infestation of all things. Not a thing nor an object nor a sentience to describe it.
There were some things, perhaps best related to as memories, or what had once been memories. They can no longer be called that name for who recognises them as such? What being are they contained within? They no longer had the sequential structure of memories.
They were more like abandoned domestiles or fish floundering on a deck. They had no ability to structure themselves for that is typically the domain of whatever conceived the memories. Without structure each particle of memory is just a copy of an observation that can only be understand through a sensory connection with environment, there was no longer environment or sense. In this instance those beings did not exist. Perhaps order was the fraud all along.