{"id":"01KG8AKQYK4RB9BVWQDASH0XGF","cid":"bafkreidp7vso5imfycoisbtqdssxzvpmu3b3u5b2rpho7mgfndzlg2ypoq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5266,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","start_line":5199,"text":"kept reciprocally going up and down in them, by means of the cord; even\r\nso, my lord, do I sometimes fancy, that our theorists divert\r\nthem-selves with the greediness of Mardians to believe.”\r\n\r\n“Ha, ha,” cried Media, “methinks this must be Azzageddi who speaks.”\r\n\r\n“No, my lord; not long since, Azzageddi received a furlough to go home\r\nand warm himself for a while. But this leaves me not alone.”\r\n\r\n“How?”\r\n\r\n“My lord,—for the present putting Azzageddi entirely aside,—though I\r\nhave now been upon terms of close companionship with myself for nigh\r\nfive hundred moons, I have not yet been able to decide who or what I\r\nam. To you, perhaps, I seem Babbalanja; but to myself, I seem not\r\nmyself. All I am sure of, is a sort of prickly sensation all over me,\r\nwhich they call life; and, occasionally, a headache or a queer conceit\r\nadmonishes me, that there is something astir in my attic. But how know\r\nI, that these sensations are identical with myself? For aught I know, I\r\nmay be somebody else. At any rate, I keep an eye on myself, as I would\r\non a stranger. There is something going on in me, that is independent\r\nof me. Many a time, have I willed to do one thing, and another has been\r\ndone. I will not say by myself, for I was not consulted about it; it\r\nwas done instinctively. My most virtuous thoughts are not born of my\r\nmusings, but spring up in me, like bright fancies to the poet;\r\nunsought, spontaneous. Whence they come I know not. I am a blind man\r\npushed from behind; in vain, I turn about to see what propels me. As\r\nvanity, I regard the praises of my friends; for what they commend\r\npertains not to me, Babbalanja; but to this unknown something that\r\nforces me to it. But why am I, a middle aged Mardian, less prone to\r\nexcesses than when a youth? The same inducements and allurements are\r\naround me. But no; my more ardent passions are burned out; those which\r\nare strongest when we are least able to resist them. Thus, then, my\r\nlord, it is not so much outer temptations that prevail over us mortals;\r\nbut inward instincts.”\r\n\r\n“A very curious speculation,” said Media. But Babbalanja, have you\r\nmortals no moral sense, as they call it?”\r\n\r\n“We have. But the thing you speak of is but an after-birth; we eat and\r\ndrink many months before we are conscious of thoughts. And though some\r\nadults would seem to refer all their actions to this moral sense, yet,\r\nin reality, it is not so; for, dominant in them, their moral sense\r\nbridles their instinctive passions; wherefore, they do not govern\r\nthemselves, but are governed by their very natures. Thus, some men in\r\nyouth are constitutionally as staid as I am now. But shall we pronounce\r\nthem pious and worthy youths for this? Does he abstain, who is not\r\nincited? And on the other hand, if the instinctive passions through\r\nlife naturally have the supremacy over the moral sense, as in extreme\r\ncases we see it developed in irreclaimable malefactors,—shall we\r\npronounce such, criminal and detestable wretches? My lord, it is easier\r\nfor some men to be saints, than for others not to be sinners.”\r\n\r\n“That will do, Babbalanja; you are on the verge, take not the leap! Go\r\nback whence you set out, and tell us of that other, and still more\r\nmysterious Azzageddi; him whom you hinted to have palmed himself off on\r\nyou for you yourself.”\r\n\r\n“Well, then, my lord,—Azzageddi still set aside,—upon that self-same\r\ninscrutable stranger, I charge all those past actions of mine, which in\r\nthe retrospect appear to me such eminent folly, that I am confident, it\r\nwas not I, Babbalanja, now speaking, that committed them. Nevertheless,\r\nmy lord, this very day I may do some act, which at a future period may\r\nseem equally senseless; for in one lifetime we live a hundred lives. By\r\nthe incomprehensible stranger in me, I say, this body of mine has been\r\nrented out scores of times, though always one dark chamber in me is\r\nretained by the old mystery.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJSXQ4NYSBNDXGDVJNG87","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKQYKF9X47FVM12K1N1YG","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKQYPCT8CDB9CA3FRQ0XD","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.291Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:22.986Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}