by Mark Lingane
“But why? Why any of this?”
“Things couldn’t go on the way they started.”
There was a long pause and both men looked blankly at each other.
“I guess I’d better tell you how they did start.” Jude sighed when no reply was forthcoming. “The end. That’s how it always starts. There’s a moment when now is then and what is to be. It’s difficult to exist when there’s no passing time.”
“How can you exist if there’s no time?” Joshua thought about the metaphorical implications. “Surely you just are.”
“Imagine being alive in a photograph. Nothing ever changes, yet you’re everything that you would be, given time, all at once. Imagine being a baby and an old person and everything in between all at once. Then imagine how that would make you feel. Then imagine having all the emotions that come with all those ages all at once. All of existence bound up in a ball so small it doesn’t even exist.”
Joshua felt the anger and anguish, the frustration and joy as he was caught in that moment once again. It made him want to tear his eyes out. The pain was immense, as was the pleasure. His mind was a whirlpool of emotions. But above the maelstrom of frozen existence was the deep, painful to the core, experience of drowning in an eternity of loneliness.
Jude released the moment. The release was almost exquisite. Then Joshua felt like a sword had run through his body.
“Something had to give,” Jude explained, “so we freed time and space.”
“You’re talking about the birth of the universe?” Joshua gasped, trying to recover from the moment.
“Yes.”
“You were what existed before the Big Bang?”
“Yes, we were part of what happened before the Big Bang.”
The walls faded away and an expansive and empty universe lay around them.
“Do you feel tired?” Jude asked.
“Always,” Joshua replied.
“Yes, we were all tired. But we were all so old. You, and I, are all that are left of the quarks. Don’t blame me, I didn’t come up with the name.” Jude breathed out deeply, and the room spun. “Obviously, before us there was the concept or philosophy of life. That’s the kind of thing: an idea, without a need for time, space or any other dimension, just belief. But anyway, we get sidetracked. It’s important to know that everything is a distillation of what came before, and then an expansion upon that distillation. And everything—that we know of—comes from belief. So we leaped into a four-dimensional future. But too much energy in a bounded space, no matter how large, can only lead to conflict, and we were so full of energy that we were pure radiation. Those that weren’t killed by the fighting were killed by our own radiation. We nearly destroyed ourselves through a wild existence. We were raw chaos, made from the stuff of stars, but in an expanding universe what can you do?”
And the universe erupted. Entities screamed around the two bodies, full of hate and vengeance and enough heat to melt a star. The screams were extreme enough to shatter a planet, and each entity was fuelled by an intense sphere of loneliness as vast as the great universe they had just created.
“But all life strives to survive. We found ways to adapt.” Jude had to shout to be heard above the celestial cacophony. “We distilled into entities that can make matter. We are matter. We can change it as simply as we can change our thoughts.”
The screams died and stars started to appear amongst the thrashing entities.
“We breathed life into the raw chaos, and the universe was saved from becoming a truly cold, dead place. But in the attempt to control the chaos, in the same breath we stifled change. We desired to control everything. It became the core of our own existence.”
The entities started to fade, and the screams ebbed away to be replaced by the roar of an infinite number of suns bursting across the cosmos. Solar systems started to form, and patterns emerged.
“We created this planet, this life—Earth materialized—and gave it order to give life, to give us a chance to survive. We gave ourselves what’s called human form and walked among the dreams that we created. We then created the people, more as pets, to keep us focused on control and possibly learn more about ourselves. Then we locked ourselves away with the engine, and watched and controlled.”
The room returned around them, and the two were once again face-to-face across the more mundane reaches of the non-infinite desk.
“We tried it with a solitary head, but it would become too unstable and make undirected decisions without consulting with anyone else. For it all to work we had to be of one mind. So we distilled the idea to have a head and two supports for the checks and balances—three bears in a Goldilocks Zone. To survive we had to stick together. And now that there are only two I don’t think we can change anything ever again. Evolution is out of our hands now.”
“Evolution? Control? How can you control people, things, life, especially from down here?”
“Ideas. We influence via ideas, which leads to changing events so that life progresses. Governments, the weather, civilizations, progress, organizations … we control everything. We keep people fed and hungry. We keep things, all things, balanced. Without us nothing would be how it is. Not that it’s right, but now I can do nothing about it. Maybe there’s a difference between being right and being happy.”
Jude was staring at Joshua intently. “Most of existence is not a problem to us. Most things lack any mind or imagination and do as they’re told or what’s suggested. Intelligent people can be a problem, as are active people, and they have to be put in places that are important but of no consequence to continuing operations. We can deal with everyone and everything. Everything is an idea. Even creation itself was just an idea once.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“Look at these ideas,” Jude said. He held up a hand. Above his palm floated a ball made from hundreds of thousands of small pinpoints of light. “Nuclear fission,” he said. He swung his arm to the side and the ball of light smashed into a set of shelves. They exploded. The pixels scattered into the air with all the spectacle of a New Year’s Eve celebration.
Jude’s voice gained in volume. “Agrarian revolution,” he said. He swung the ball into a set of glass shelves, which instantly disintegrated.
“Cures for Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s and cancer.” He threw the ball over his shoulder, where it smashed into the wall and left a large dent. “A free and reliable health system, an honest and incorruptible democratic system of government, the truth about God, quality television programming, useable SAP systems, a porn free Internet,” he shouted.
Three balls appeared in Jude’s palm and he flung them at Joshua, who threw up his hands in defense. The balls shattered on an unseen barrier in front of him, and the pixels showered to the floor and dissolved.
“You remember,” Jude whispered.
“No,” Joshua replied.
“But this is what you do. Do you remember anything, anything at all? Jude looked imploringly at Joshua.
“Nothing but the pain,” replied Joshua darkly.
“How can you not remember? To survive we had to stick together. And you walked away. No one has ever walked away. You left us. You left us all to die,” he cried.
A suffocating silence rolled over them.
“And everything stops,” Jude said. “The clockwork unwinds and the dance ends. All of existence ceases to have been, erased from the memory of whatever is left.”
“And why has it gone wrong?” Joshua said.
“We fixed it so there need to be at least three quarks around to stabilize the universe. We’ve always needed drivers, and now we’ve run out.”
“And this means we’re all about to die?”
“No. Because dying implies that something has been. If the engine stops, it will never have been.”
“Even though, as we speak, we exist?”
“Yes.”
After some time Joshua said, “Nope, I don’t think I get it.”
“That’s
the thing with death: once you’re gone the reality that was you and your perception not only is gone but it never existed.”
“No, I mean the bit about the engine. I assume you’re a driver. You’re here and neither of us is driving the engine, so how is all this happening?”
“There seems to be an anomaly. Maybe the engine’s grown beyond us and we’re no longer required, or maybe not. All that’s certain is that maybe it’s found another way to survive, which is somewhat disturbing as we created it so we could survive. It’s only here to serve us, but here and now it’s serving itself, being itself. But it’s uncertain how long it can live on its own.”
“Much like life itself, you mean?”
“You’ve lived too long among the pets. You think like one of them.”
“You say that like it’s a bad outcome. But I know all this, don’t I?”
“Yes,” said Jude, “because you were part of it.”
“And we’re the only two left?”
“The only two that count. You the master, and me the supporter.”
“But this stands against everything I believe.”
“No it doesn’t. If you were in my shoes you would believe what I believe. Circumstances have changed and you’re outside the system, of sorts, and still attached in other ways, thereby giving you the luxury of more idealistic and less practical beliefs. That’s why you’re a special case, and especially dangerous. That’s why it’s all a mess.”
“What are you saying?”
“It would be so much easier if you remembered. OK, I’ll lay the cards on the table. You are one of us, but you are not as old as us. We tried to control the engine but no one could take the pressure. They gave in to petty greed, the seduction of power, or just exploded with all the understanding that comes with the position. So we all decided to sacrifice a little bit of ourselves and create a new form. Something that was true and incorruptible. Something that was the sum of us. You. And it worked. You were the best; you made existence great. Everything flourished under you. There was learning and peace, and generosity. You brought happiness and stability to the universe. You were the first to control it all for the greater good. Then something happened. None of us knows what it was, but one day you got up and walked away from the engine.”
Jude paused to gain his composure. “You spent all day, every day, locked in that room balancing life, balancing civilization, juggling an infinite number of balls and staying sane. Normally that would have driven the head insane until all that was left was a shell, but you found a way to stay true to the light and the engine, and never did anything for your own gain.”
Things were starting to fall into place for Joshua now.
“You’d sit there, working the light,” Jude continued. “You felt your way around the world and your feelings controlled the world. Everything was under your control, from people to the weather. Ideas flew everywhere, as though you were some kind of creative genius. The world was driven by your soul. That’s why we have cycles of good times and bad times. It’s all to do with the mind and spirit of the head.”
Jude smiled. “It was a great adrenalin rush. You started so well, totally focused, but then you began to question things. Maybe with that amazing balance you had you were able to see things none of us could. Maybe all that sitting around made you start to philosophize. Whatever happened changed you. You were no longer one of us. You walked away. That gave us only one chance of survival. I tried to do the job, but I couldn’t do it like you. I couldn’t control the emotions. I couldn’t get the balance, and the sadness and loneliness that infects us all would seep through.”
“Is that why it was always raining? Because you were depressed?” Joshua asked.
Jude paused. “I said I wasn’t as good at it as you. Playing God can be taxing. You wanted to go, and you were dangerous. You had to be deprogrammed before you entered the real world. We erased your memory and put a new one in place.” Almost to himself he said quietly, “No one was quite sure what would happen, if it would be a simple suppression or a complete wipeout. We’d never modified ourselves like that.”
He continued with his explanation. “We set up a career that had nothing to do with the Dominion and hoped you wouldn’t find your way back. But the truth couldn’t stay hidden. You turned out to be trouble. Getting too close, finding out things and remembering things you shouldn’t. It showed the memories were built into you. The soul and body doesn’t forget. The ‘executives’ met and it was decided that you were to be terminated as soon as possible. For the sake of life. To threaten us was to threaten the existence of life in the universe.”
“So why wasn’t I killed?”
Jude smiled. “They tried with a great deal of persistence but you had a protective friend, a rare occurrence in such a horrible place as this,” he spat. “You had a friend who looked after you. There was a plan. Even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, because of the decision he had to make the strength of friendship called out and was heard. Ultimately, your friend made a decision that in the end cost him his life. I think the trade was worth it. If it took that one act, one sacrifice, to do so then it’s all been worth it. The rest is up to you.”
“What’s up to me?”
“Look, time is running out and I want you to change the world and fix it, or unfix it, as the case may be. You’re easily bright enough to work it out. I must go now.”
“Wait. What do you mean unfix?”
“We’re at a converging of realities. Every so often all the possibilities come together and a decision is made about which way to go next. Life is like a wave. The waves on a regular basis cross a point where everything is one; where there is one decision and one outcome. We either wave again or we all go forward together as one. I know this because the hat gives you that power, even for a brief period of time after you’ve worn it. We made that decision when we took solid form, just in case we ever wanted to reform in our old ways. That point is coming but it can be used for a better decision. Humans deserve this life more than we do. We’ve tried to kill it and in a way have killed ourselves. Our souls are empty. We’re all just tired, burned-out shells. You can’t even hear the sea in us.”
Jude’s head sagged and his eyes half closed. “I know that you, Joshua Richards, can make the destiny that ends all destinies, and bring back the chaos. But that is your own path and your own decision to make. You choose to do it or not. Choose wisely. Everything depends upon you. There are realities where even the gods exist, but there is only one reality where life can continue to exist. Unfortunately, it doesn’t include us.”
Joshua’s head was swimming with facts. This was far too much after today’s efforts. He tried to focus his thoughts.
“Who was my friend?”
“Is it important to know? Will it stop you doing what needs to be done?”
“To me it is. I owe it to them, and I’ll do what’s right.”
“All right then. It was me, Joshua. I thought you would’ve worked that out.” Jude laughed. Not a good thing to do if you have no strength or stomach.” He coughed, bringing up blood all over the desk.
“Something else you should know. Marianne was the other supporter. She was there with you, watching out for you for an eternity. She waited for you, by you, for thousands of years. Our time is over. We’ve been so caught up in here that we’ve forgotten if there’s an out there. It’s time to stand up and be reconciled. Do this for me, Joshua. Do it so things can be right, as they should be and not as they are. Give the universe its life.”
He took one final look around the room. “I’m sorry about the mess. I’m scared. We don’t know what comes next. And we know everything. I’m really scared. I don’t want to die.”
His eyes lost their focus. In a small voice he said, “Oh, it’s full of stars.” With that he exhaled and was no more. His body slumped, and his arms shot forward as if trying to make a last and incredibly pathetic attempt to escape the room. His vacant eyes stared at the wall.
The floor shook. Electricity crawled over the walls, looking for a place to earth. Reality was having a little trouble accepting the current situation. Something else was in the room. It had been waiting; now it was searching. It crawled around the walls and ceiling, passing slowly over Joshua’s slouched figure before pausing briefly, testing. It flowed over a mirror, which exploded into a million pieces. It crawled over the light fittings, which also blew into oblivion.
In the darkness it continued its destruction.
Pot plants ruptured and other furniture shattered. The great desk in the center of the room cracked in half and it found what it was searching for. It picked up Jude’s body and reclaimed what belonged to it. Jude’s face, which was pale to start with, changed through all the colors of the spectrum, ending on a heavy crimson color. A scream roared from above, tearing at the very fabric of the universe. Jude’s body hung limply in the air before imploding and covering the room with metal shards and blood.
Joshua didn’t see any of this because he had gone insane.
After some time he fought back the lump in his throat and the tears welling in his eyes. He sank deep into his mind, facing for the last time the barriers that seemed to have made his life so unlivable. He turned and tore at them with a vengeance, hating everything they represented. Hating the fact that people couldn’t live any more than they could turn green. That they couldn’t even breathe without permission. That everything was planned and directed. He tore at the sky for not being real. He tore at the ground for being fake. He tore against the weather, against the authorities, and against everyone everywhere for accepting it like sheep. He tore against the people and against the machines. He rendered the walls of his sanity apart in fury that it was all his own work and his fault.
There was a moment of silence, a brief respite.
“I remember,” he whispered.
He felt his friend’s time prior to the head of the Dominion. He remembered Jude and friendship. He remembered Marianne and love. He remembered the day he was made head. He remembered donning the hat. He remembered feeling the trees, the ground, the sky, the birds, the sun, the rain and the billions of lives called Earth. He remembered thought and creativity and creatures and evolution and time and distance and life and existence. He even remembered Joshua and how small he was in comparison. He remembered everything and he saw it all. Everything stood before him, taking up every molecule of his own physical existence.
