"At least they tell you where it is you'll be sent off to. After the closing-day ceremonies here, our future's all a blank."
* * * * * * * * * *
"they tell you where it is you'll be sent off to"
"They" tell you a lot of stuff about how things will be but only time can tell you how things were. Randolph's vague "Denver" isn't a whole lot more helpful than Randolph's unknown next location.
"our future's all a blank"
But it isn't, is it? Pynchon has already written the book. The pages are full. It's just that Randolph has no awareness of that future yet. Pynchon is writing a book where he drops the reader into an 1893 timeline. The reader knows, if only vaguely, the Randolph's world's twists and turns and, while not its ultimate destination, at least as far as mile marker 2022 (or later, for the future readers). Randolph's future isn't blank. Nobody's future is blank. It is merely unknown. It is yet to be revealed. Time is like a book already written and life like the reader's eyes moving across the page. Some may look at it more like a Choose Your Own Adventure book where they have some illusion of free will about the outcome, and others are content to believe what will happen will happen, and always will happen, or always has happened. Randolph's future is anything but blank. Even when Pynchon wrote that line, he probably already knew how Randolph's story will conclude in this book. Or, at least, the point where Pynchon will leave off Randolph's story. Will Randolph's future be blank then? I suppose time will tell, no?
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