I think back to earlier writings of mine and others. Ancient names like Voltaire, Socrates, Durkheim, Marx, and Jesus Christ all filter back to me. The goal for knowing returns. Our universe, a place which is obsessed with the now and past and future is not concerned in the least by the whole picture. Each instant is their treasure. But not for figures like Jacob and I. The process is the journey. The journey is the destination. The top is so near I can almost appreciate it, but not quite because I’m not there yet. I pull at the air in my lungs. My veins ebb and flow in tense strain to get a rhythm going. Soon, the blood vessels strike at my pounding heart. Immediately, the neurons begin their skittish march. They crackle and whip the highways in my brain to a closed off section of my mind, eventually finding a memory. It’s an early one…