This version dates from March 24th, 2002, but was largely written by March 13th.
Now, I may be just another Bob to you, but if you think about it, that makes me not just the same Bob, and that makes me unique. When you've got something unique, you've got to preserve it, like in a jar or a park, and if you can't get someone to declare you some kind of federal reserve, and you can't, then, then, well, you've got to do it yourself, and that's important. And I guess maybe this all seems pretty obvious to you, since, well, it's pretty obvious to me, too, but it's still important to say all this, because you've got to understand I only say things when I think they're important, like when I said I was Bob, because that's important, because I'm unique. I take this preservation thing very seriously, you see.
Now, that's important, because this story's about preservation, indirectly, and directly too, even though it's got a lot of things that don't quite look like preservation, at least not at first, and that's okay, because sometimes things don't get preserved, and that's just the way things are, and that's unique, and it's got to geta preserved. You can't just go stopping things because they're stopping other things, because there can only be so many things, and eventually something's going to have to stop, and maybe a lot of things will stop that you didn't want to stop, because these things just happen. But maybe you're part of what needs to be preserved, you know, maybe if you don't stop it things get stopped that shouldn't get stopped. Only who's to say what should get stopped and what should get preserved? Maybe it just turns out in the end that some things stop, and then some things get preserved, and nothing else seems to care. All I'm saying is you've got to be careful.
I guess you'll just have to trust me when I say all that was important, because that's what this story is about, even though it doesn't look like it. Things are never what they're about, 'cause if it thinks, it's about its thoughts, and if it doesn't, it's not really about anything, and that's okay, none of that is really anything anyway. You've just got to believe me here.
Now, Sally's this girl I know who's in a couple of my classes, and we're as much friends as two people who don't know each other can be, and that's okay. It's Tuesday, and Sally's next to me in class, and the professor shifts in and begins her lecture. Now, the subject is interesting, and the professor asks a question, and I raise my hand. The professor stumbles into a chair, and Sally tells me to go ahead and say it. I don't understand anything yet, but I give the answer, and this guy Jacob in the opposite corner makes a good comment. The guy next to him responds, and suddenly I understand the problem, and I jump up and yell, "But wait!" I give the other guy a second to react, then I race to the professor's chair and start responding to the comment. The professor looks up, at first frightened, then suddenly curious, and then I scream in her face, "Alien, get out!" She looks shocked, then faints dead away. Because the alien didn't understand, you see, and it wasn't careful -- but you've got to be careful, and you've got to preserve.
Now, Sally doesn't understand yet, because she doesn't want to believe me, and that's okay. It's just how it is; every thing is started and stopped by another thing. Like a rock and a river, or a baby and a girl, or the aliens and me, except none of that is really there. Sally's very confused, but I don't have class for a few hours, so I wander off to speak to my advisor. He's sitting in his office, very still, holding himself absolutely still, perfectly still. I understand it at once, but it's very difficult, and I have to be very careful -- most of it, there's nothing to preserve, but there is my advisor, and I have to get him back. I walk outside -- everything is normal -- I re-enter. A paper? yes, a transcript, Jason's application. In a moment it's done: I pound my advisor repeatedly on the forehead, and shake the transcript at his face until he passes out. Then I scream at the transcript, "Alien, get out!", and thrust it out into the hall. I've been careful, and everything else remains to be seen. Maybe it's hard, but then that's what got preserved, and that's important.
You see, the preservation's what's important, because some things have to be preserved, and sometimes you can tell, or you think you can tell, and that's important, 'cause that's what you're about, your thoughts, and the best thing you can do is to preserve hat things are about, because that's as good a thing to preserve as any, and that's how it is. Life is like that; preservation; it's nothing, so it's everything, and that's all you can say.
So now, Sally's in the hall, and she's talking to my advisor's secretary, and when I step out they both go quiet, and I understand, and so I walk on, because what needs to get preserved is you, and sometimes life disagrees. And that's how I found myself in the room, and then I listened, and I didn't talk long, 'cause I understood, and life can only take you so far. Because that's what I'm about, that's my thoughts, understanding, and then it's strange. There's so much. Then I'm in the car, but then I'm not, because try I understand and I try to preserve, but perservation is important, and I'm unique, which is what this is all about, really. So I'm there, and I see Sally, and I hide because I've got to explain so they'll understand. I dodge by a wall, and work towards her, because she's where this matters. I pop out and scream, "Alien! Do you understand?" and she stares at me strange and nods, nods. "Yes, Bob, yes" she says, and then I understand, and I wonder and I can't say, because that's how it is, and I understand, and I've got to preserve, because I'm unique, and I scream.