Tempo

One mouthful … an end to mortality.  

These whispers floated carelessly teasing the fibers of my being.

There wasn’t really much debate from me; gushing at the thought of living eternally.  I gulped down the muddy effervescence.

I like thinking back to this moment.  It was the beginning of the end.  Or the end… of the beginning? Or, somewhere in the middle.  I’m a little lost now so I’m not quite sure.  

No one tells you that once you no longer live.  Or age.  Or die.  You don’t quite fit in the puzzle anymore.  In this case, the puzzle is your standard time stream.  Heh, stream.  You kind of see all moments at once.  A blinding flash of everything.  A font of never ending… something.

Well, I’m not terribly good at describing this.  Past, present, future.  It’s ridiculously simple to think of it from the stance of a single observer.  Time is less like a river.  More like a room filled with vibrating strings.  The closer the string is to you, the louder the note that is played.  The further away strings are vibrating simultaneously but are harder to see and hear.  As you move through this room, that represents the passage of time.  Normal humans move forward through the room.  They can still hear the past but as it’s resonance gets further away, they lose subtleties that were once very clear.  Likewise, they can hear notes immediately in front of them pretty clearly but the notes ringing past that are muddy and drowned out by the chorus of the present.

For me, it’s like someone put a microphone on every string and I get to listen to the chorus of everything.  Dissonant as it may be and ever changing.  

If you’re really lucky, occasionally you’ll be able to focus on a single note resonating nearby somewhere new, or old.  Or now… then?  Not sure.

When I focus, it’s like being transported into another body.  I have control for a time.  But again, what is time?

I can focus on that frequency for what feels like seconds but may in fact be years to a simpler life form.  I am dedicated to shaping the whole of existence.  Some of my work is quite renowned.  

Joan of Arc.  Me.

Lincoln. Me.

Tesla… A man out of time?!  I mean, really?!  They hit the nail on the head with that one.  Me.

Tuk-kah!  He’s one of my favorites.  The reverberations of his name are lost in early history but his… my invention lives on almost unchanged for all of normal time.  The wheel!  I know this sounds like bragging but I gave you the wheel exactly… let’s see, normal time — 25 minutes early.  Hold the applause, that had lasting effects over the course of the endlessness of everything.  That 25 minutes compounded and allowed for the creation of exactly 1.064 normal years.  Adding that to the end was amazing!  A whole year, plus a tiny amount, of one-hundred percent new, unlived, time.  I assume I don’t have to stress the relevance of this 1.064 years to me.  I am undying.  I see or hear… or something everything constantly all at once.  It’s the same ever droning symphony of flashing lights invading my senses constantly.  Adding even a new second of life changes the melody inexplicably.  It’s exhilarating.

Plus, adding to the end of my near-infinite sonata is important.  I know it’s important.  It brings meaning to my endlessness.  Without the addition of these notes, I would a shell of an entity floating in nothingness.  Humanity, without my guiding hand, would lose itself to the permanence of eternity.  I refuse to listen to the decrescendo of the human sound.  I can already hear past the strings being plucked farthest away.  It’s an emptiness filled with whispers.  Whispers that tease all of the fibers of my being.  

One mouthful … an end to the endless.


We think of infinity as a really big number, but it’s not. It’s endlessness. Endlessness is a really strange idea in a universe that is defined by its endings.
– John Green, Author and Vlogger

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