{Fiction}
Approximate length: x,xxx words, xx pages

- Story Excerpt -

Perception

by
Gordon Hayes


Light. Cannons of Dark. An imagistic, translucent sphere of glowing, green viscous fluid, fell rapidly towards the gravity saturated mass. The Mirea, as it is known to the local habitants of this end, of this infant sized galaxy, was nestled secure in its orbit, suspended unknowingly, like the coin for the sharpshooter's bullet. Its speed increasing as the gap between them closed, the tumbling orb appeared to fall into the element rich planetoid. None there, were to witness the spectacle, as Time barely moved in its own misconstrued dimension. The rippling, churning skin of the sphere gave it the illusion of unreality. But this sphere was little less than pure, dense reality. Only in reflection do the two masses move together slowly enough to be observed. From an immense distance, the event appeared to be just this, something absorbing something: this however, was definitely not the situation.

Thee Colony, protected by their thick life-coloured inhibitor shell, was traveling at the speed of thought, their Thought--75 times the speed of light in a no gravity situation. The Mirea never had a chance. In the twinkling of an eye, what was, was no longer. On impact the small planetoid's molecular strength was equaled and surpassed, allowing the faults and weaknesses it contained therein to loose, and disperse into precisely, three million, two hundred thousand and fifty two pieces. No more and no less, for there was no more time than this available. The glowing green orb continued on its inevitable path, remaining no longer oblivious as it had been. But, the truly wonderfully amazing thing about this incident, concerned not the green orb, hurtling through space, punching a hole in the sheer fabric of the local galaxy; bending, warping slightly the Time-Space continuum; instantly out of sensing range...for mortals. But rather, it is one of the fifty two pieces, or more exactly the forty ninth piece, of which this tale is concerned.

Now, it should be understood that there was no one available who could stop this tragedy. It could only be corrected to the extent that it shouldn't be allowed to happen again. What was left of the Mirea was scattered to the cosmic winds and currents. Its salvation was understandable of no consideration, but the cause of its destruction was. It was in the Thought, there was a Cancer within. A Cancer that was not perceived until it was understood that there was a problem, and by then, it was too late. Certainly no one would ever have done such a cataclysmic thing on purposeful thought direction. It was immediately disciplined, therefore corrected, and thereby not in the scope of this account. The Cancer was not of a malignant type, it was more of a benign, reversible, separation of the Thought's Layers of Consciousness. This lead to a new reality, and the obvious mistake of not noticing, a ball of life directly in the track of the Thought Colony's journey.

If not for the accident, the Cancer should not have been noticed at all. If not for the Cancer, there would have never been an accident of this sort, and the small part of the inhibitor shell would have never been able to break away from the main body, to eventually settle on the forty ninth piece of Mirea's fragmented, spinning, melted body. Within the instant of contact, most of the piece was enveloped by the fluid. No longer held in state by the Thought Controller's imagery, it was able to envelope at will. The Colony considered what had happened. The agreement was unanimous that there is no Thought which encompasses all Thought: thus shifting the responsibility ever so slightly. But, this was important to them. They knew that understanding the problem, changes the problem. Had there been a leakage of thought, causing imagination to penetrate reality? Their attention permeated the forty ninth piece, and they soon understood. They loved it for an exquisitely indivisible instant, and they let it go on its way to its final destination.

For a short time, there remained some power in the inhibitor fluid, the object of such powerful concentration does not evaporate quickly, but it was still continuing to dissipating. The piece hurtled, traveling at approximately forty nine times the speed of light, in a no gravity situation. It traveled for two thousand, four hundred and one years: this span being relevant only to the reader of this catalytic delineation. The piece traveled for near or exactly 690,093,268,700,000,000 miles; this minuscule gauging also being relevant only to the reader of this knowledge. This weary "poputchik" was beginning to decelerate, the heavy galactic masses stroking its trajectory until it was wont for a place to settle into. It passed through one small white sun, protected somewhat by the inhibitor fluid. But changes were at hand. This was not the same piece as the Mirea's original forty ninth piece.

Its appearance and its composition had changed radically. It now appeared to be more of an even shaped, churning mass. Spinning and tumbling, end over end, not the once ragged body, sticky with inhibitor, newly adhered to its surface. At the end of its journey was to come its quasi-permanent sojourn, the place it ached for. Its pace slowed even further. After having hit and passed through one sun completely, it almost repeated its indifferent exercise, passing excruciatingly close to a little larger sun, this one quite yellow. The traveler would miss the corona, but could not escape the gravity-well, rich in subverting energies. The gravitational pull was strong enough to prevent the mass' direction into a one time shave of the sun's circumference, and fling it back from whence it came; soon settling into an orbit around the friendly lifeforce...heatsource...balanceforce. This was a pleasant little community with room to spare for a disheveled loner from a Thought far, far away. The intense heat of the sun was waning slightly, as the now apparent planet slowed its course, more and more.

Time, such as most cannot understand it, allowed in this instance for the new planet to join the other planets native to this area, to churn to slow, to mature and grow. To become truly alive. The new planet curved and eddied, and slipped into a shaky orbit which almost immediately began to decrease in its perturbations. The other planets, evidently happy to welcome this newborn to their ranks, moved nearer to, or farther from, the sun as was required of them, in a perfectly symmetrical fashion, enjoining the newcomer as it had been there always, counterbalancing the centrifugal forces of orbital theory explicitly, perfectly and naturally.

The planet soon cooled, shedded some of its trappings, and gave life to many new, and many old beings; some happy, some sad; some short lived... and some long-lived. The planet exploded into life. Energy bathed its surface with a heartfelt prompting for it to evolve into its own destiny. The planet cradled the sprawling lifeforms through their infancy. It forced them out into the open. They soon discovered their senses, feelings and finally, one by one, thought. Beyond itself, the planet had much to be proud of: for there were its children, and they were its joy, its ne plus ultra. Happily, the planet had nought to be sad for, until one day...

There came the day, some short Time (remember Time?) after Life had started to hustle and bustle around the planet, looking here and where, that one of the lifeforms had a thought. It was a small thought, an intoxicating thought, an insight nearly divorced from the reality of its immediate environment, and its planets beginnings:

"Why...perhaps" it thought, "perhaps, this World which I see," and he glanced around himself, at the Others, at the jungle gardens. "Nay, perhaps the very spot on which I stand...comtemplating; or, even my very own heart, beating excitedly within my breast. If not, most reasonably, the Mind which attends me, which views so securely my Soul:

"Perhaps this," the Creature so deliciously, painfully thought its tiny thought, a tear welling up within his eye, "perhaps this is...the Center of the Universe."

Pleased and satiated, he turned his eyes upon the Sun, up into the Heavens...


- End of Story -

"Perception" - A Short Tale of Exception
Modified: June 9, 1997
Author