Author: Rollin T. Gentry
Imagine a creature crafted from crushed bones and entropy. It may or may not have fangs, or claws, or even a face. It rides from calamity to calamity, crisis to crisis, along ley lines the scale of galaxies.
Wait. There he is, knocking at the door.
The door, an ancient relic of a forgotten civilization, shudders under the weight of the knock. It is not a sound but a vibration, a ripple through the fabric of reality itself. The air grows cold, and the shadows deepen as if the very light is retreating in fear.
Inside, Dr. Ellen Conner, an astrophysicist with a penchant for the arcane, feels the disturbance. Her instruments, designed to measure cosmic anomalies, go haywire. She had been expecting this visitor, though not with any sense of eagerness. The creature’s arrival was foretold in the cryptic texts she had spent years deciphering.
With a deep breath, she opens the door. The creature stands there, an amorphous silhouette against the backdrop of a starless void. Its presence is both overwhelming and intangible, like a nightmare given form.
“Dr. Conner,” it speaks, its voice a chorus of whispers, “you have summoned me.”
Ellen nods, her heart pounding. “I need your help. The fabric of our universe is unraveling, and only you can mend it.”
The creature tilts what might be its head. “And what makes you think I would help you, mortal?”
“Because,” Ellen replies, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her, “if our universe collapses, so does your playground. You thrive on chaos, but even chaos needs a stage.”
The creature seems to consider this, its form shifting and flickering. “Very well,” it finally says. “But know this: the price of my aid is steep.”
Ellen’s eyes harden with resolve. “Name it.”
The creature leans closer, its presence suffocating. “I am weary of my eternal existence, Dr. Conner. You will take my place, and I will live out your life. Only then will your universe be saved.”
Ellen’s mind races. The thought of becoming this entity, of losing her humanity, is terrifying. But the fate of the universe hangs in the balance. “If I agree, will you truly save us?”
The creature’s form flickers, almost as if it is smiling. “Once you see them as they truly are, you may save them if you wish.”
Before Ellen can respond, the swap happens. She feels as though she is being torn apart, her very essence unraveling. Rising upward, she sees her body below standing in the temple’s entrance. As she floats higher and higher, she sees the jungle, then South America, then the Ocean. Above the Earth, she stops and gazes down.
She sees the scars of humanity’s actions: the ravages of war, the devastation of the environment, the relentless march of global warming. She witnesses the suffering, the greed, the indifference. But there had been love, kindness, and joy, too?
She strains to see the good things as she hovers in the void, the weight of her choice pressing down on her. She is the creature now, and she sees through its eyes. There were good things, right?
Good tale.
Reminds me of the end of the story about the animal court, where the dog remained loyal but of the other species, only the mosquito had a use for humanity.
I’d let it burn. Move along. Let this experiment in sentience end in self-inflicted extinction. There are more deserving species, I’m sure.
There were good things, good times, and good people. There still are. #forevertheoptomist
lol. Optimist. I need a spell checker, stat!