Tales from the Welgon Age may look like cute little tales to be read to kids at night (and that's also what they are), but primarily - just in case you haven't noticed - they are philosophy.

But what is philosophy exactly? A common conception is that it's trying to find the true answers to some very basic questions. Who hasn't at least once in his lifetime dreamed of finding out the true answers to questions like why are we, where do we come from, where do we go, or what is it all about?

But although I did find possible answers to those questions, I beg to differ.

Fact is, we don't actually know if true answers to those questions exist. What we do know, however, is that possible answers to those questions exist, dug out by philosophers over the course of centuries. In that sense, philosophy joins quantum mechanics.

Quantum mechanics states that on its tiniest levels, nature behaves in a probabilistic way. Therefore, it seems that the very foundations of our universe are made of uncertainty. And if the universe's foundations are made of uncertainty, wouldn't it be logical that the why and how of its creation must be uncertain, too?

Consequently, philosophy has to become probabilistic itself, and stop looking for true answers to look for probable answers instead. The first step to do so would be to acknowledge that on those fundamental questions, there is probably no definite truth: it may be that Maybe is the only answer that may be.

(Notice how the affirmation that there is probably no truth is also part of the probabilities, leaving the door open for some truth after all. I don't take any risk here!)

My opinion may change, but right now I think that philosophy isn't trying to find the truth; philosophy is trying to create seemingly flawless logical thought processes for explaining stuff that seemingly can't be explained through empirical observation.

After all, isn't philosophy always spinning around the one single fundamental wonder of the creation of the universe? And if so, wouldn't it be helpful to think about what's actually needed to create a universe?

Is truth needed? Can one build a universe with truth? I guess not, so I think that looking for truth is beside the point.

So how do you build a universe? Considering the way we keep building ours by creating stuff like writing, planes, music and computers, imagination is certainly a component. Considering the nearly endless number of laws and constants that govern it, logic seems to be another one.

That's why, in my opinion, a philosopher should look for logic, with his tool being not necessarily accumulation of knowledge (though it helps), but imagination. Imagining new logical thought processes for explaining stuff, that's a philosopher's task. He doesn't need to care about truth at all.

This way, I thought of the Flight from Omnipotence as an answer to Why are we? (in The Vanishing Point), the I Live Every Life theory as an answer to How are we? (in The Center of the Universe) - which in the meantime I found out to be shared by Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, Rabindranath Tagore and Albert Einstein among others, so that I'm starting to think every philosopher and their grandmother thought of that one before - and, most importantly in my opinion because it tells us what our final goal should be, Fractal Genesis as a single answer to both the questions of Where do we come from? and Where do we go? (in A short Work Schedule and Self-Made).

As I think purely philosophical essays are boring and pompous (I'll try not to write any after this one!), I put these thought processes in light-hearted tales that take place in a world of my own (there's nothing like creating a universe of one's own to help understanding the one we're in!), but they are no less hardcore philosophy.

…Or aren't they?

It is certainly very pretentious to declare oneself the author of mind-boggling philosophical concepts. I'd even say it borders on delusions of grandeur.

But maybe philosophers need those.

Never mind that they were all German - they were, above all, philosophers with groundbreaking ideas, and they knew it. If you aren't even convinced yourself that your thoughts are mind-boggling, then nobody else will - which most probably means they are indeed worthless. They might still be worthless if you think they are the greatest thing since Plato, but at least there's a chance they aren't.

…Which means that if you don't have delusions of grandeur about your own thoughts, you can't be that good a philosopher, and you better get on with your puny material life. You don't think you're great? Well, then you must be shit!

What I'm trying to explain here is that delusions of grandeur are an essential component of philosophy. It's actually comical how self-important we sound. J

(Notice how I used "we"? Putting myself on level terms with the people I listed above is my second step into becoming a really great philosopher: this second step is the Necessary Delusion - the first step being, of course, the thought processes I built.)

Ahem. Floating back to the ground…

In no way do I consider my answers as the single, definitive answers to the questions mentioned above, for the simple reason that they are not supposed to be the truth, and I'm quite aware of that. I'm even glad about that, actually.

For the biggest threat to a philosopher is not the despair of not finding the truth; it is the belief to have found the ultimate truth - because he would stop looking further, and thus be philosophically dead.

Therefore, it is a crucial mistake in philosophy to believe one is right. As logical your thoughts and beliefs seem to yourself, if you want to have a chance of going further, you always, always have to doubt yourself. There must be a Vital Uncertainty in philosophy, and this Vital Uncertainty is both the philosopher's blessing and his curse.

Of course, I might be wrong here. J

Oh, and there's another philosopher's curse: it seems nowadays that only dead philosophers are good philosophers. So after today, consider me gone.

• Alexander Einich, 24.1.2001