Materialism by force: the last refuge of the terrified minds, desperate to pin that big, scary world in place so that they can understand it. Garters quivering, they soak themselves in their own piss, squalling for someone to give them more money so that they can buy friends who will agree with them that it will all end someday, and that they won't ever have to be afraid again.
So, some Nazi doctors are torturing rats to death in an attempt to explain "near death" experiences. After they had finished skinning, salting, and burning seven virgins alive at a celebration held on the University of Michigan mall, then backed their cars over several cats in the medical school's faculty parking lot, the researchers traveled through their host city of Detroit: a city that urgently needs millions of dollars in additional funding to further its understanding of the experiences that rats have when being drowned.
The researchers obtained their funding by advising donors that killing these rats would help them understand how to manipulate circadian rhythms in order to make workers more docile and productive when suffering from jet lag or adjustable/late-night labor shifts. To free up time for slowly torturing the rats while analyzing their brain activity, several University physicians promised to cancel prenatal care programs for "those trashy [women] who keep getting pregnant out there in that [Detroit]." They also guaranteed that they would be willing to accept salary increases, to forgo chances at mundane patient tissue-sample analysis, and to contractually bind themselves against obtaining pediatric care certifications or ever being "on call."
Market-Style Evolution provides no justification for a mammal-wide surge in electromagnetic activity in the dying brain; creating a fantasy of floating or extended time during cardiac arrest, drowning, brain surgery, et cetera, is not beneficial to an isolated, random survival--particularly in any time before the advent of machines that could assist in bringing people back from the brink (thereby theoretically allowing them to tell others of their experiences and provide a mutually beneficial fantasy that could facilitate genetic transmission--e.g., that trait hasn't been helpful to billions of years of pre-spoken language, pre-defibrillator organisms operating under a random selection regime). The surge that these vile killers are attempting to track from one side only is part of the transference of electromagnetism from one piece of matter to another. As ragnarists on this planet develop more complex artificial minds, they will attempt to stifle that transference, using the lure of immorality to encourage people to stay in one place forever, and stop all growth.
That part, you can't verify from this end. Here's some food for thought, though, that can help you perceive why integrated lightform transference explains what bouncing billiard balls can, by definition, not:
1) The attunement of the brain to music--the pulse, key, and octave--is instinctive. While pulse can find Market-Style justifications for its natural appeal, key and octave cannot. The brain networks automatically with music, and music is "music," because the key spectrum and the octave connection are aspects of the way light transfers. The pulse of mother's heartbeat might make us feel comfortable if we duplicate it using drums, but the untaught child's instinctive recognition that a major chord sounds positive and a minor chord negative--but both somehow "right," as opposed to several notes that don't compose a chord--is a recognition of the underlying pattern.
2) Lightning may strike taller things, pursuing the quickest path between charged and grounded objects. Right? Alternatively, if you build up static electricity on a carpet, then touch a door handle, you might get shocked. Same effect, right? Except that, how does the energy "know" that any given path is the fastest path through? The lightning cannot see. The lightning does not feel like it wants to touch the tallest tree.
The lightning does not test all of the trees, first, looking for the quickest route between the positive and the negative charges, before settling on the tallest of the trees (or persons). It travels at [if not the speed of light, a really fast speed], so it can't possibly have gotten any feedback from the other side, right, to tell it which tree is the tallest before choosing to strike the tallest nearby tree?
Why are we bothering about something so obvious; so mundane; so stupid? Everyone just knows lightning hits taller things, or metal things. Because it does. Because it's attracted to them. Because that's the quickest path.
But, why? Again, think about it: the lightning cannot see which tree is the tallest. It cannot see, touch, smell, taste, or hear the best route to connect the positive and negative charges, and it cannot do math. It does not test all possible routes before choosing the closest available one. So really, how does it "know" which route to use?
"Um, daarrr, it just sort've, uhh, see, them charges, errr, it'sa just happens, kinda, that way," is not good enough. Nor is "the protons collect at the positively charged location, building up a tension opposite the electrons which have collected at the negatively charged location." Either version of the answer is an avoidance of the question; a retreat to, "It does because it does." If we want to understand, to learn, we go farther, and ask, "Why?"
Why? Because the positively polarized and negatively polarized areas are part of a unified electromagnetic field which is connected in a way that transcends our perception of space-time. There are indeed new lands beyond the edges of the map, no matter how glorious your galleons or learned your scholars.
Now, if this one were to tell you that these lands contain men of vermillion hue who walk only on their hands, have three noses, and shout while they sleep, that would not be supported by the evidence. It might be a bad story (if the vermillion men were cruel), or a good story (if they were nice), but it would be just a story; it would be pure speculation. If this one asked for $199.95 for a tote bag with a picture of a special lightning bolt on it to protect you from the vermillion men, same difference, but with more reason to suspect this one.
(No irony is left to be found, really, in the land where the collection plate is passed by the same hands that draw the maps and write the sacred texts. Or what did you think those deductions were for, anyway, if not torturing rats and Arabs for the greater good whether you like it or not? Force them to get real jobs that depend on customers with a choice, and you'd see a sudden drop in the number of Great Towers being built.)
The dangerous charge--the real rebellion--is to whisper, There is more. Today's lords do not know everything, and tomorrow's lords may never know everything, because there is more. Claiming that there are three-nosed vermillion men who walk on their hands is always acceptable, because it's so easily disproved. Claiming that there are no three-nosed vermillion men is similarly acceptable. What really bothers the little number-counters, though, is the idea that you're willing to accept that there is something else, but that you don't know what it is. It frightens the hell out of them at a fundamental level. They can't deal with a world that doesn't include an instruction manual, and they would prefer that you not be able to, either.
Impale life on your table, oh you vile killers. Masturbate into your white SS labcoats while you boil and pluck your Hungarian twins. Lock yourself in a vault with holy tomes and bubbling beakers, cackling that you have discovered absolute darkness and proved that life is futile lies layered on futility. Drive the needle through the thorax of the caterpillar's humble dream, dry and press, press and dry, and roll dead flowers between the pages of the ages to save them from becoming new flowers.
We're here to make the impossible possible. That's why it's already a victory. Your dark counterpoint can be worked right back into the melody. Laugh, laugh, little failure, when your flats proved only to be sharps from a different angle.