Story Twenty Six – Convolution

Days did not exist, nights never were, life was a belief of the living and some colors, though seen by our eyes, were only figments of our collective imagination. God had been right in telling me that my adaption to this so-called true reality would be painful. It was a marathon, an unstopping, unrelenting barrage of concepts so foreign to my view that I immediately repelled them. I fought back because they weren’t real, they couldn’t be. I argued against what the Lord was trying to show me. I rejected the absoluteness and finality of his conviction in it. I couldn’t push the words anymore, couldn’t carve the markings back in the mountainous slate of God’s consciousness. I had to speak.

“God, this cannot be real. I see things to the contrary, I know things that tell me that what you are showing me isn’t possible.”

The flashes in my mind stopped. They were replaced with the familiar symbols of his ‘voice’, so much more elegant than I could accomplish.

Why do you call me ‘God’?

Confusion set in. It was a question that effectively stopped all cognitive and rational thought. I stood, holding the sides of my head. I’d been attempting to hold in my psyche since we’d started.

“You are God, our Lord.”

You say this. Yet I’ve provided nothing for the argument. I have not introduced myself as such nor do I require the entitlement upon being addressed.

Everything I knew, everything I was, the creature I thought was god had denied. I was angry, terrified, frustrated at the idea that my previous years and every bit of knowledge they’d brought were false. This thing called them perceived instances. To me, it was another word for fake.

I couldn’t speak. For a time unspecified, I stared into the imagery of subatomic particles dancing on the floor.  It was no longer a room. I could feel the plan below us, but it seemed only to exist within my own experience. God, what I thought was god and so my mind continued to label it as such, could move freely in the space, uninhibited by the structures that had, at one time, been solid. The pieces of energy disappeared and reappeared at seeming random, though I had recently been shown that my concept of arbitrary actions was as false as the acceptance of my gender or species. God didn’t communicate. It didn’t move or make any attempt at consoling the conflicts it was causing.

“What are you?”

It nodded, the tendrils shaking out of its mouth. It made the first sound I’d heard from it in the days or weeks since I had arrived. It was happy.

That is the right question, Jeiveive.

A different warmth came. It rose from my eyes and my hands. The creature’s skin reflected more of the orange light I knew as mine. I was glowing. I didn’t know how much I had changed since beginning. I didn’t care. I had anger. My mind raced and I pounded the symbols into God’s mind.

Then answer it.

I interpreted it’s emotion as a smile, though it was something I had never seen before. I knew what it was all the same, it came with a slow rise of movement and a shyness that spoke to my senses. This is what it had wanted, curiosity above all things. It turned, moving more gracefully than I’d thought possible with such a jumble of strange features. A head at the end of an arm swayed, beckoning me to follow. It didn’t have to.

I was moving before my legs received the messages. Space, oblivion, the lack of existence around me, flowed passed with no effort. My pace staggered when I came to the realization that I was hovering in nothing, but it never faltered more than a simple stumble.

The creature blinked. The void opened to a portal. We went through the doorway, appearing in a large room dimly lit with deep, bright blues and greens. My eyes didn’t need to adjust, I saw everything. I saw what I didn’t want to see.

Large translucent tubes, running from the floor to the ceiling tried in vain to hide their contents. Suspended in these pipes were creatures. They were odd and familiar and confusing. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing as they changed with my motion.

I discovered how impossibly large the room was when we found the middle. We were standing on a railed balcony. Above us was a great white light. The more I stared, the bigger it seemed. It turned and moved in waves of exploding energy. We were spared from whatever radiation it was given off by another cylinder which contained it and something else. This other thing wasn’t quite as massive. It was closer and by that virtue caused a greater panic to behold.

God pointed at the orb before us. I followed to the target, as exact as I could estimate, and narrowed my attention to it. I discovered new dimensions to my sight. I could see for great distances with no more effort than to look. I peered through the clouds, piercing them somehow. The creature’s intent was so strong it nearly held me to where it wanted me to go.

I saw them and began to cry. On this sphere of rock and air and water, I saw four large cities raised above an island of sand and stone. Joining these constructs was a single large structure of gray.

The power holding me above the ground failed and I fell. I began to feel small again. I began to feel mortal, something I hadn’t known I was losing until that instant. I looked to the Lord, surely the God I knew. If not, how could it show me this? How could any of this be possible?

I couldn’t use the mental markings anymore. I didn’t have the energy.

“That is our world.”

I felt a pang of heresy in my words. Though it claimed to not be our god, it was my knowledge that he created everything I can see and even what I use to observe. I revised my statement.

“Your world.”

No, Jeiveive, that is your world, not mine.

Celestial bodies blurred in and out of view. I could feel distances being crossed, time flying by, but I could not gauge anything. I closed my eyes and felt the rush of falsely perceived momentum. This was not happening, not in absolute terms. These were things God had taught me. I could feel the lack of reality but it was damn close.

The stop was abrupt and harsh. My eyelids fluttered and the pumpkin colored beams of my gaze fell on an ugly, barren rock floating near a small blue light. I searched for something, anything on that clump of horrible soil but there was nothing. I couldn’t feel the life I could find so easily when we were viewing my world.

This was my world.


About Aaron Shively

I have been working as a freelance writer and artist for the last decade. In that time, I've done everything from ghostwriting to toy design and everything in between. I am currently working on a novel series called 'Myth' which has held my attention for the past sixteen years. I have spent my time developing the world, character and story and am now ready to funnel all the preliminary material into the manuscript of the first installment, 'of Men and Monsters' Bookmark & Share

Posted on 05/27/2011, in Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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