Chapter 5: Don’t Wake Up
Three days passed, that’s how long we waited before our window for this plan to work. We had to wait until we were close enough to the black hole that my weight— including the space suit—would be sufficient enough to catapult the ship free of the gravitational pull of the black hole. I hadn’t heard the voice during those three days, and it was the most wondrous and peaceful days of my life. Now they were over. Now it was time to confront the pitch black darkness that lay before me. I sealed the helmet onto my space suit; it hissed as it filed with oxygen rich air. I felt a sudden bloom of euphoria which only intensified with encouraging thoughts of acting heroic and selflessly. I’m giving my life for my crew, they’ll remember me and will tell stories of what I did to their children, and their children will remember my name for what I did for their parents, and so on for generations.
The voice of flames crackled with a laugh, “Messiah to some, false prophet to others, you gift to the unwanting what you tarnish to the black. They will do as you have done: forsake as you have forsaken yourself, slaughter as you have slaughtered yourself, and sacrifice as you have sacrificed yourself.”
My skin began to crawl, and my heart raced while I shivered. I’m about to be ripped apart molecule by molecule simply so that future generations can mutilate one another in the name of my memory. Maybe there’s some wisdom left for me to share, something I haven’t clarified enough. I hesitate in front of the vacuum doors; my hand shaking as it hoovers over the only functional ejection button.
The voice of flames spoke again, “Desperate words drown desperate men. The deepest wounds are inflicted by the sweetest intentions. Truth is ineffable, it can only be reenacted.”
I shut my eyes from unshed tears, tighten my throat against withheld screams, and pressed the button. I’m pulled torso first into the vacuum of space. In only moments my crew and ship were separated from me, not only in distance but in our own journeys; never again will our paths cross. I will exist to them only as an echo of a memory, and soon they will fade from my very being.
I see it, and it’s terrifying: A giant batch of starless black faced me, its event horizon silhouetted by distorted stars. The patch grew larger and larger as it drew me in, I felt like I was falling. My heart pounded in my ears and breathe quickened ever faster and shallower. “You have arrived,” said a benevolent voice calmly, assuredly.
I breathe deep and hold it in. I swallow the fear. Calm washes over me. A sublime electric haze numbs my body. I can’t help but smile. I reach out into the event horizon, a jolt of terror reverberates through me, sharp yet comforting. It reminded me I am still very much alive. Now my entire arm vanished into the pitch black, warm and numb. I look behind me, my ship had vanished. Instead it was replaced by a shooting star, making its way passed me and the black hole. My crew is saved. “They will miss you but do not worry. They will be just fine without you. Now look or you’ll miss it!”
I felt something pull my gaze away from the shooting star and into the vastness of space. I wasn’t sure what this kind Voice wanted me to see until I saw it. The entire cosmos: it was alive. Planets traveled at such high speeds they formed tubes, like snakes circling themselves and ate their own tails. Stars grew and burst like fireworks, devouring the coiled snakes only to form new stars surrounded by new coiled snakes. Other stars shrank and hardened while letting off a soft glow and served as the street lights of the cosmos. Their persistent dim glow somehow made the dying stars look that much more beautiful. I began to realize I wasn‟t hallucinating but seeing the universe age right before my eyes. Each blink was eons, every heart beat the exploding of a dying star, and each breath the life of a galaxy. It was a spectacle and for some reason it felt like it was all for me. Finally, the cosmos began to fade away, the last stars died and all light vanished. Their light dimmed until there was nothing left, only black. I couldn’t tell if I had completely entered the black hole or not; both mirrored the nothingness held within the other. Everything was quiet until suddenly, applause cheers and joyous screams deafened my ears.
“Congratulations! You witnessed the end of all things! This is the end of the game and you played it well!” boomed the benevolent Voice. I couldn’t even see my own body or touch my helmet. I was more than numb, it felt like I wasn’t even there.
“What do you mean? What are you?” I asked.
“I am the treasures you keep. I am the sublime hidden beneath the terror. I am the game in which you play .You were willing to sacrifice for something greater, and for that you have brought me immense joy!” it said like a parent proud of its child.
I asked confused, “If this is what you wanted, why did you tell me to kill my crew?”
there was a slight pause, “That was Fear speaking to you. Fear never plays to win; its only concern is how to end the game. If Fear always had its way there wouldn’t be a game to play at all. Life demands sacrifice. You were willing to sacrifice your own life for the sake of new life. You have reenacted Truth everlasting!”
There was no animosity or judgment in its voice and yet I grew frustrated. when I spoke again it sounded like it originated a few feet in front of me, “you keep saying sacrifice, why does there even need to be a sacrifice?”
There was silence for a moment before the Voice replied. “You are a being born from the struggle of tooth and claw, you devour life to survive, you have even witnessed the stars play out this lesson for an eternity. Those that sacrifice themselves bring new life and change; those that don’t sacrifice themselves slowly fade away.”
I retorted, “but it all comes to an end either way, you’ve shown me that yourself. So what difference does it make?”
The Voice replied without pause this time, “True, it does all come to an end, but the sacrifice of one makes all the difference to every life that comes after it.”
I pondered this for a few moments. I thought about my crew and the lives they must have lead, and the countless generations that they must have nurtured. Then another question rose up a few more feet away and yet still spoken by me, “What is this game you keep mentioning?”
The Voice boomed with laughter, “This game, the thing you call life. The cosmos was the board and you and your companions the players. You played within the rules of the game and managed to take yourself right off the board itself. Your companions have long ago stopped playing, even the board has been packed and put away and yet here you remain. Some have called it transcendence, or Nirvana, or even Heaven.”
I ask confused, “So now what? Do I play again?”
The Voice replied, “Yes and no. This time we will play a different game, a more difficult game. You will watch as I create this game for you, you will begin to lose yourself to the different players and events that take place, until you become a player yourself once more. Once you break the illusion, our game will begin anew.”
I spoke and heard the echo of my voice like a whisper, “How will we be certain that I’ve broken the illusion?”
The Voice replied, “You will leave your memories here with me, here in the black. One day you will come across your story and you will read your very words within this new world. There will be a moment; a realization of who you once were. That is when the game begins!”
The Voice laughed and I could no longer make out what else it said. The next time I spoke it was in a different voice. I knew the game began after I said out loud:
“This was me.”
Chapter 6: Lucid Dream