There are days when you have to learn to do it all over again. Such days Cassandra dreaded. They come and they go, she thought, but no-one listens. Warnings go unheeded. People fail to understand. They do not want to understand.

When Perplexis, King of the OrigMeme came to visit her, she wanted to hide, to pretend she wasn't home. He knew already, though. She had left the car in the driveway, instead of in the garage. It seemed odd to her that people could be so perceptive about such things, and yet never understand her.

He knocked several times. If she was going to be disturbed, it was going to be on her timetable, not his. His patience proved quite impressive, as did his persistence. She threw the book down on to the desk, sighed, and finally made an effort to get the door. An effort. She never actually made it, because Perplexis had already invited himself in.

"Don't you ever wait?" Cassandra asked, annoyed.

"I waited for ten minutes," he responded.

"I might not have been home," she said.

"Your car was in the driveway, and your door was unlocked. I concluded that you must be home."

He could really infuriate her sometimes. He had a cold, calm demeanor designed to frustrate any attempt to penetrate it. Perplexis would not be fazed. Still, it wouldn't stop her from trying.

"If you were so certain I was home," she began, walking into her den, "then why did you wait so long before inviting yourself in?"

"It would have been rude to so any sooner," came his response.

Infuriating, she thought. It boiled her blood.

Perplexis took his usual seat. It was one of her favorite chairs. She'd set it in the corner by the bookcase to provide easy access. Not being particularly tidy, she tended to stack unfinished works on the floor around the chair. When Perplexis sat in it, it somehow made him look like a king.

Of course, he wasn't really a king. Not yet. That was just his title. "Strikes awe into the hearts of millions," he would say coldly. Rationally. Without emotion. It didn't really inspire awe in anyone save a chatroom full of crazy messianics. Still, his time spent online generally kept him from interupting her life. Apparently not today.

"What can I do for you, King of the OrigMeme?" she asked dryly, trying to mirror his blank facade.

"I'm surprised you have to ask," he replied with some astonishment. He always said that. It made her more angry. Composure, she decided. It's important to maintain composure if I'm going to get him out of her any more quickly.

"I don't read minds, Perplexis."

He grunted for moment, twiddled his thumbs, and scanned the room. He seemed to be looking for a starting point. When his gaze fell on the window, he'd found it.

"Have you ever noticed how the light from outside creates a glare on your monitor?" he asked, pointing to her computer.

"It's intentional. It prevents me from spending too much time online." Let him consider that, she thought!

"Hmmm," was all he said. He probably didn't consider it much, because he pressed right on. "It seems as if a glare has fallen across my life. It obscures my thinking, and my ability to run my kingdom."

Words are cheap, she thought. The King of the OrigMeme seemed to think so, at any rate.

"It started the other day," he continued, to Cassandra's chagrin. "I was talking to Blotter, and...you know Blotter?"

She didn't but she nodded anyway.

"Well, I was talking to Blotter and he was talking about this idea that words have no meaning. I couldn't understand him."

Cassandra resisted an amused grin. "What exactly did he say?"

"Well," he paused to clear his threat. His pitch altered as if he were imitating Blotter's voice, though in all likelihood he had never even heard Blotter's voice. "All knowledge is assumed, and thus inherently flawed. It can be argued that a complete lack of knowledge is more accurate than a conglomeration of falsities." Cassandra had discovered from experience that Perplexis had a trustworthy memory. "You can't put more water into an overflowing cup."

He resumed his own voice. "What does that mean? You can't put more water into an overflowing cup?"

"He told you more. What else did he say, King of the OrigMeme?" Cassandra asked. She was actually entertained by this charlatan's inability to comprehend the concept his entire kingdom was based upon.

"It's about confusing what is with our impressions of what is, he told me. Now what does he mean by that?"

Cassandra laughed. She couldn't resist. Perhaps this would be worthwhile after all.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked, slightly embarassed, which was all the more satisfying for Cassandra.

"I thought you wanted to know the future?"

"I do. That's why I'm asking!"

"What is it you want to know?"

He bit his lip. It was the first time she'd ever seen him frustrated. Hunched shoulders, stiff neck...it really bothered him that he could not understand. There was something else, though. Something he had been holding back. He knows, she thought. He knows what this means, and it terrifies him. He came here for my council because he wants it written off as nonsense. He wants someone else to tell him that it's meaningless, and that he is not responsible, because he knows otherwise.

"I can see through you, Your Highness. It's like looking through a glass of water. There is some refraction, but your purpose is clear enough."

"If words don't mean anything, then what happens to purpose? Oracle, tell me what happens to the King?"

"Your words are mere symbols, Perplexis. Of course they don't have meaning! They only represent the things they talk about."

"I've always known this, but I've denied it," he said. He expressed this with intelligence and honesty. These were virtues Cassandra had never seen in the man before.

"It's fundamental to your dogma. It's what your entire kingdom is built upon. You rely on the idea that words must mean something. In fact, they are limiting. Once you define something, you have made it more difficult to understand it's complexities. How would you explain a rock to someone who had never seen one before? Or a tree? Or a river? Their vocabulary will often determine what new information they can take in. If they do not know the word water, then you will find it difficult to describe a river. The same applies for the word green and tree, or hard and stone."

He considered her words for a while, but didn't respond. She decided to nail her point home.

"Context will be your only salvation, Your Highness. Words alone are insufficient, and even sentences, paragraphs and entire books will never give the complete picture the way experience can. They are, however, excellent substitutes, and have a power of their own. Our minds are complex entities, and through context we can derive many things, including new ideas. The power to extrapolate provides the womb of creativity. Context, King Perplexis, is how your kingdom will survive."

She waited for it to sink in. His expression was pensive, but that was more promising than his usual demeanor. It was several minutes before he responded. All the while, Cassandra felt sharp satisfaction coarsing through her blood.

"I think," he said at last, "that I understand."

"Good!" she responded, genuinely pleased.

"I've surrounded myself with the wrong people. Blotter is a horrible influence on the essence of the kingdom."

"What?" she inquired, appropriately perplexed.

"The OrigMeme is viewed on the outside in it's context. I will never be able to sustain it merely by examining the individuals that inhabit it. They are expendable! It's the good of the whole kingdom that is important. If we are to stave off invaders, then we will need a united front. As it is, we are viewed as a loose affiliation of individuals. That's how the internet functions. My role is to unite them. To reinvent the context around which such kingdoms are built!"

Cassandra put her face in her hands. He wasn't making any sense. What was worse, she suspected he knew it.

"You have been a great aide to me, wise oracle." He stood up, his expression again becoming stolid. With a brisk nod of his head, he made for the exit.

Another kingdom then shall fall, she thought to herself. The sun, having moved further west, no longer cast a glare across her screen. She considered logging in, but dial-up took so long. It's good to make things difficult on yourself, she thought. It makes you work harder. She picked up her book and resumed reading it backwards, from the end to the beginning, as Cassandra had always done.