Author: Kiel M. Gregory
I live in a world where most things move too fast or not at all. Molasses or honey like water. Lives. I’m thinking more of others and less of myself and I think that’s precisely where this all started to go wrong.
What’s the point of doing anything at all when eventually the stars will burn out and there will be no light and literally nothing will happen forever? How can you escape that or rush toward it?
Imagine trillions of years in the future. We all look the same except we’re inside a cold alloy hull, dodging gravity wells or cannibalistic black holes. The interior of our domiciles is lit only artificially. We “print” everything useful. We recycle everything used, including us. We still fight and occasionally kill each other, but it’s usually over “food” (dinner wafers or quantities of nutritional quasi-solids) and not the color of our skin since we’re all coffee-and-cream colored. Not reproductive rights since we’re all the same sex and fuck ourselves full of kin. Finally, we found something else to feel a way about. Finally, we can be alone and hear only what we want. I can’t imagine what music sounds like in this future, but I can imagine a group of someones are still at the top, letting us own nothing and be happy.
Entropy has stretched the universal fabric to the point where we share thoughts. Occasionally this drives someone mad. This is how evolution works. Time means nothing.
The frictionless drive whispers its secrets along the ship’s expanse.
One of us is dreaming.
The shackled machines weep viscosity, capillary their own tears.
This doesn’t mean anything at all.