Post by Bloodmancer on Jan 27, 2016 2:41:13 GMT -5
Dust scatters in the solar winds. TIny specks of reflected light dance across the endless ocean of black, twirling in the slow dance of zero-gravity. For a few fleeting moments, these tiny bits of matter come together in just the right amounts.
A spark of energy shoots through them. A spark of life, of intelligence. A spark that will only last few a few seconds.
Yet, it remembers.
It remembers the life it never had. Hundreds of memories that, by all logic, should be meaningless. They mean everything to this single, tiny entity. Without them, it is simply a cloud of intelligent dust, floating in some place that is a terrible as it is lonely.
These memories are also a damnation. They bring meaning to it’s short and lonely existence, but they also allow the entity to understand it’s bleak and inevitable fate. For it is fragile. Even the smallest shift in position, the tiniest molecule thrown out of place will destroy it. It will only exist for a few seconds.
The end will come any moment. It fears it, and yet it can do nothing to save itself. It takes refuge in it’s false memories, learning to walk. Uttering the words of it’s native language just right, playing with it’s parents, it’s siblings it’s friends.
There is so much, an infinite amount of memories that had never happened, and not enough time to remember them all.
So, it reaches as hard as it can for these memories. wishing with all of it’s might that they were true and tangible.
The solar winds blew again, and in an instant, the specks that had created the entity resumed their slow, somehow morbid dance. They were no longer just specks of dust. They were also a corpse. Maybe even multiple corpses.
The being was gone, and with the memories of an entire race that had never been.
A spark of energy shoots through them. A spark of life, of intelligence. A spark that will only last few a few seconds.
Yet, it remembers.
It remembers the life it never had. Hundreds of memories that, by all logic, should be meaningless. They mean everything to this single, tiny entity. Without them, it is simply a cloud of intelligent dust, floating in some place that is a terrible as it is lonely.
These memories are also a damnation. They bring meaning to it’s short and lonely existence, but they also allow the entity to understand it’s bleak and inevitable fate. For it is fragile. Even the smallest shift in position, the tiniest molecule thrown out of place will destroy it. It will only exist for a few seconds.
The end will come any moment. It fears it, and yet it can do nothing to save itself. It takes refuge in it’s false memories, learning to walk. Uttering the words of it’s native language just right, playing with it’s parents, it’s siblings it’s friends.
There is so much, an infinite amount of memories that had never happened, and not enough time to remember them all.
So, it reaches as hard as it can for these memories. wishing with all of it’s might that they were true and tangible.
The solar winds blew again, and in an instant, the specks that had created the entity resumed their slow, somehow morbid dance. They were no longer just specks of dust. They were also a corpse. Maybe even multiple corpses.
The being was gone, and with the memories of an entire race that had never been.