*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1662502-Dreams-of-Life
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: · Fiction · Religious · #1662502
I tried to imagine dying out in the absolute vacuum I tried to imagine just waiting to die
      I floated as if deep in the water, I could see nothing, not even stars. Only the great and ultimate blackness. Complete and utter emptiness. There was nothing, save me, my suit, and my thoughts. Even the A.I. was gone, shut down as the suit tried to save power, trying to save me. Though it was a pointless gesture; there was nothing out this far, I was truly beyond the stars.
         I breathed in and out, each bringing in a deeper taste of carbon dioxide. With each breath I took, I was killing my self, how wonderful my fate is! And no one to share this gloom, no one else who could revel in this grand feeling fate; would anyone else ever feel this horrifyingly completing sensation of helplessness? I do not think so. How could they? No one else is me, no one else has my luck, and no one else has this suit. There would never be another instance of these circumstances leading to another homo sapien free floating in the true absolute vacuum. I am unique, and I am in a unique situation.
         Or maybe I am just flattering my self, maybe I am jut going crazy, who knows? I have no way of telling, and there is no one out here to compare notes with. I heard something, no I didn’t. Unless the suit was failing, though I really wouldn’t mind much if it did. I had half a mind to just open it rather then waiting. And none of this is enforcing the possibility of my retention of sanity. Or is it? The fact that I am still able to question my own mental state, does that mean that I am still sane? Its like that old argument, does being able to ponder whether or not one exist guarantee that one exists? Perhaps I will figure that out. Wouldn’t that be the greatest joke in the universe, to finally understand reality, to know that great absolute truth, with no one to tell? Funny, at least I think it is.
         That noise, there it is again? Or is it in my head? What the hell is that? I imagine angels making such noises. Or maybe I don’t. I’m not really sure, those things in my head, are they angels, or demons? They promise such great things, but in the end they are only torments. But still they all remain in my head. There is nothing out here, the only light is the basic functions on my heads up display. Just that faint blue glow below where I had fixed my stare. Wait, shouldn’t that have shut down as well? I thought the only things running in this state were the life support systems. And in emergency mode they shouldn’t be wasting any power on the display. But to be honest, I don’t care. I could look down, just let my eyes move, refocus a bit and see if it is the HUD or maybe something else. But it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. I will still die soon.
         But maybe that light is the greatest of all answers; maybe it is God, just stopping in to see what I’m up to. Maybe God wants to see what we mortals do in our last moments. Is there even a god to do such a thing? In a universe which was mapped and catalogued, is there still room for God? But the very fact that I was free floating so far out that I can’t even see those burning suns prove that we, as a species were only beginning to scratch the surface of the universe? Or maybe I am already dead? How can I Tell, perhaps this is hell. No, this is far too peaceful for that. In hell, there would be other people to break up my thoughts. Perhaps I am in heaven, perchance this is the great mystery? True mental peace?
         But I am not a peace, I am thinking all over the place. From earth to the stars to the alloyed plastic shell that protects me now. I can’t be dead, I don’t remember dying. I would remember that pain. Especially sense the suits pressure system would fail before I suffocated. With no maintenance, the suit skeletal structure would be pulled apart, the pieces would go off in all directions from the escaping pressure. And then, my bare flesh touched by that oh so loving nothing. My eyes, my eyes would go first. Then, that tugging on my skin, and then, I would follow my suit out, my matter would rejoin the universe. What’s this? Anxiety? Not over my own impending death, that I had come to terms with within a few hours of this. Something new, what is it then? What is this sense of dread? What spawned you? Separation anxiety, like what I felt when I left IO, like leaving home. I know this, I am more afraid by the thought of leaving behind what I consider to be my true skin then dying. Sad as it is, I love this machine more then my own life.
         Again that noise, that had to of come from outside my suit. No way in what ever hell this is it was from within me. It lasted longer this time, though I can’t say for how long. I have no way of telling time. For all I know, I have been floating for only a few minuets. Or maybe its been hours, or days, possibly weeks, months, years? How long did they say these suits can sustain some one for? I can’t remember. I don’t even remember what real food tastes like. Just the fluid these things are filled with. That tasteless fluid that fed me, that gave me my breath, that kept me from bursting outward. I don’t even remember what it is like to actual touch something. Just this feeling of nothing against the synthetic nerves in the hands of my suit, always with the ever present sensation of crawling brought by the neural jacks in my spine; this is my life and it shall be my death.
         Again that sound, from multiple directions. How can I be hearing that? What can it be? The insulation of these machines should block out all auditory sensations when the sound systems are off. So how loud must that be for me to hear it? Or maybe the sound system isn’t really off. Maybe the safety cut off failed. It’s possible; the older generations were known to have a few flaws.
         And then I saw it, the source of my confusion. It moved with an absolute form of grace. Slowly and with purpose it moved, and then I saw a second. Perfectly beautiful. Creatures of blue, glowing. Though their shape mimics creatures of the birth place of our species, I knew they were of no relations. Or maybe they are. Is it possible that these creatures of the infinite black are distant relatives of the creatures of the blackened deep of earth? Perhaps those alien creatures that had so fascinated my ancestors had in fact had alien originations? Had they fallen from between the stars to a primal earth?
         They bring to mind simultaneously a squid, a shark, and a jellyfish. And they are unlike any of those. A whole school of them swam past me; I say swam because I know of no better way to describe how they move. Constantly these things graced me with their sight. I could see always two or three at a time. Or maybe it was only two or three. Perhaps they circled around me, wondering after this lost and lonely creature. I am just as alien to them as they are to me.
         One has stopped. Or maybe it already did. All my sense of time feels like it is folding in on its self. I have something now to see and I am loosing my ability to focus, just wonderful, isn’t it? One of its arms reached up (or is it reaching?) and passed through my suit. There is nothing solid about this entity. I felt it as it touched my skin, as it went through my body and then out the other side like some ghost in those old stories who can walk through walls. As it touched my spine all of my skin tingled. It felt like full body sex.
         Without a mouth, without facial features, without a face or anyway at all to express such a thing, it smiled. And then all left my line of sight. I need to see them, I must waste some power. With a thought I activated the thrusters and moved my self. I watched as they moved away into the darkness. I watched as the greatest beauty in all the universe left me behind. But I am not sad. In fact, I don’t think I can be sad now. What ever it did, I feel perfect.
         But where did such things come from? What could create such beauty? Perhaps there really is a god. Those three creatures could very well be proof. Maybe they were the true angels. It felt as if they were perfect enough to be so. But I must see. With another thought I turned to face where I believe they had come from, and I gaped in awe. True awe, for I had never before witnessed such a sight. A massive red orb dominated my view.
         I understand. I really do. As this star had begun to die, as its surface cooled. Millions, if not billions of years ago, the energy arced across the surface. Whether it was the introduction of some foreign bacteria, or just pure sentient energy, I can not even guess at. But the life which formed was not limited by the failings that we homo sapiens, or any other traditional form of life had to deal with. Out of a dying star was born perfection. And now, as that sun entered the final throws of its life, the last tenants left behind their home to carve out their own place in the universe.
© Copyright 2010 Mecharius (mecharius at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1662502-Dreams-of-Life