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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1653370-The-Messenger
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Supernatural · #1653370
A formless messenger from beyond the stars comes to a tiny blue speck in space...
                From a plane of existence beyond the farthest reaches of the physical Universe, from a dimension so utterly alien as to be unintelligible to the human mind, It came, a being without material form, instead composed of some otherworldly substance imperceptible to anything native to this cosmos. Very few words, if any at all, exist to describe such a being (if it could be said to "be" as the word is generally understood), save the neuter pronoun, which only barely suffices. In fact, even the indescribable entity Itself knew not of what It was, for It knew nothing, nothing but that which Its extra-cosmic creators had programmed It to know. It was simply a messenger, sent to relay a message to any life form with the cognitive capacity to understand it. So It went, gliding through the nearly perfect vacuum of space at speeds most likely exceeding that of light, soaring to the edge of a particular spiral-shaped galaxy, ultimately coming to a small blue spheroid orbiting a main sequence star, whereupon It hurtled through its atmosphere and began Its mission.

         As soon as It arrived on the surface, the incorporeal probe began to monitor and analyze the biological systems that inhabited the small, self-sufficient globe. It watched them consume one another, converting that which they had absorbed into energy with which to sustain their functional existence; It watched them produce juvenile versions of themselves, motivated primarily by electro-chemical impulses from their crudely developed brains, if a true brain was even present at all. After a long and careful analysis of the data It had collected, It concluded that these life forms were far too primitive to be able to receive Its message, much less derive any meaning from it, and continued on.

         On it went, moving silent and invisible among the planet's primal population, until It came across a new class of beings, similar to the other life forms It had analyzed, and yet so utterly different. They were similar structurally and mechanically to the others, requiring nigh constant intake of biological matter and a polar colorless fluid in order to continue to function properly. They sucked in the gases of which the planet's atmosphere was composed through three cavities located on the highest distinct segment of their bodies. But there was more to them, something more highly organized and complex. They emitted different sounds in rapid succession in a very structured and intricate manner, possibly a form of abstract communication. They used the materials around them to create tools and machines to ease the completion of a variety of goal-oriented tasks. Upon further analysis, the probe found that these new creatures possessed highly developed nervous systems (or at the very least highly developed compared to lesser beings It had encountered), which would explain their intelligent behavior. Taking all of the data into consideration, the formless messenger from beyond the stars began the next step in Its mission: contact. It glided toward one of the creatures and prepared to relay Its message.



         The full moon glowed eerily overhead as Dr. Ferdinand Muller walked home from Sweetwater Hospital after a long, arduous day. He had managed to successfully identify and begin treatment for a case of systemic lupus erythematosus, an incurable yet manageable autoimmune disease, and strongly desired to get home to spend some well-deserved quality time with his wife and young daughter. "Oh, how pleasant that will be," he thought, smiling as he thought of the delicious dinner his loving wife had surely prepared for him. The good doctor's happy thoughts of late night luxuries were briefly interrupted by the sudden sense of being watched, the feeling that every move that he made was being monitored by unseen eyes. Dr. Muller looked around carefully, and, seeing neither anyone following him nor a sufficiently large object behind which some villain with malicious intent could conceal himself, continued on his way. His mental preoccupations drifted back to the long-awaited relaxation he would no doubt enjoy tonight, unburdened by the fast-paced and stressful setting of the hospital at which he spent the majority of his busy life. No, tonight would have none of that. Tonight would be perfe-

        Dr. Muller felt the presence again, though this time it seemed to originate from all directions, surrounding him, trapping him, engulfing him. Frightened, he attempted to run away, to escape the malignant entity that held him captive, to return to the state of bliss he had enjoyed only moments before. It was all for naught, as the unseen force began to smother him, pushing its way through the doorstep of his very mind. Dr. Muller quickly realized the futility of his efforts to keep the persistent demon at bay, and gave into its will, allowing its psychic message to enter his brain. As the knowledge flowed like a speeding river into his consciousness, dazzling images of alien worlds, binary star systems, supermassive black holes, and other celestial wonders danced before his eyes like a cosmic ballet. He stared in awe at the extraordinary beauty of the galaxies and nebulae which swirled through the vast vacuum of space, which seemed to teem with life much like the tiny world he viewed everyday under his microscope, only much more beautiful. It was all so beautiful...

         But then, Dr. Muller began to experience something else, something beyond the known, and even the unknown, Universe, something even the most magnanimous of men were ever meant to experience. He felt the same sensation he had felt upon first encountering the bodiless devil which now possessed him body and soul, but thousands of times more intense. His blood congealed, his heart rate increased in a pathetic attempt to force the frozen liquid through his icy veins. He began to perceive incomprehensible, formless things, things that his lowly human mind could not even begin to interpret. The perception of such "beings" did not even seem logical, about as paradoxical as the infinite loop created by killing one's grandfather in the past, or the simple statement "This is a Lie". They were invisible, intangible, indescribable, unknowable. And yet these extra-universal monstrosities were making themselves known to Ferdinand Muller. The physician's mind was writhing in agony as it was being ripped apart by powers from beyond the limits of human cognition. Every aspect of his being begged for an end to the mind-warping madness. Every neuron in his fleshy pink brain screamed for salvation. Every atom that constituted his physical existence tried to flee from the unspeakable horror that had revealed itself to an unsuspecting Universe. And then, having exceeded its computational limits, Dr. Ferdinand Muller's mind collapsed upon itself like a red supergiant at the end of its life cycle.



         It watched silently as the creature twitched and spasmed before it fell to the ground and moved no more. The otherworldly being took a moment to reexamine the biological system which had been so easily overwhelmed by his simple message, eventually finding that the data It had collected were in error, far overestimating the potential of these lowly beasts. In any case, Its mission was complete. It would soon return to whomever, or whatever, had sent It to this worthless world and report of its insignificance and lack of truly intelligent entities. Thus, without a moment's hesitation, It took leave of the simple fleshy life forms; of the tiny, insignificant blue spheroid which revolved mindlessly around an equally insignificant ball of burning gas; of the spiraling conglomeration of celestial bodies of which that blue speck was but an infinitesimally small part, and returned to that formless realm beyond creation which the human mind had failed to comprehend.
            
© Copyright 2010 R. Walter Smith (latinamnonvoco at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1653370-The-Messenger