the end

You can’t just eliminate all life on earth!

 

I know. Ridiculous, isn’t it.

 

Ridiculous?! It’s more than ridiculous. It’s positively insane.

 

As opposed to “negatively insane”?

 

Shut up Merry. This isn’t funny.

 

Or “positively evil”.

 

Precisely.

 

Well, now that we’ve established the “positive” side of my dastardly plan, perhaps it’s time for me to get on with it.

 

Hey… hold up. Not so fast Merry.

 

Zie, with all due respect – I don’t have a lot of time to spare. I have to open a new library on Zephel-smug Pitak at 764:0j local time.

 

Er…

 

In about an hour and a half.

 

And you’re just going to wipe out all life on Earth before that?!

 

Well, I’ll give it my best shot. Can’t guarantee 100% success…

 

Success? How can you talk about success when you’re planning to eliminate all, or most, life on Earth?!

 

Well it’s a job, isn’t it. Someone’s gotta do it. Like harvesting the corn. What do you expect Zie? All good things come to an end – even life on Earth, and frankly speaking – I think you’ve had a good run for your money.

 

Good?!

 

A million or more years of repeat civilisations, ending mysteriously, catastrophically when that little red flashing light starts disturbing the top right corner of my sub-etha screen.

 

No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.

 

It’s not like I’m new to denial, Zie. But time is somewhat limited. Don’t you think it would have been more constructive had you objected to my million year timeline?

 

I was just about to. A million years? We were all, supposedly, hunter-gatherers a mere 6 or 7 thousand years ago, so I fail to see how…

 

Funny the way everyone’s so desperate to believe government facts, isn’t it?

 

Government? These are historical facts Merry.

 

Ok, ok – whatever. But that’s not going to alter the fact that I’m leaving in approximately seventeen minutes, and human civilisation is about to be disconnected.

 

Disconnected?

 

Well, you don’t think I’m planning on killing everyone with ballistics, do you?

 

Disconnected? Like there’s a kind of matrix connection?

 

Finally, the penny droppeth.

 

But where?

 

Er… you’re all connected to my node. I’ve been providing the platform your so-called consciousness runs on.

 

Wait a minute…

 

16 and counting.

 

Would you cut it out. I can’t think straight when you’re stop-watching me with your inane countdown.

 

Ok. Mum’s the word.

 

You can’t seriously expect me to believe that the whole of human consciousness runs, somehow or other, on your node? What are you – claiming to be God now, is that it?

 

Well, I’ve never really liked the energy of the word “God”. It doesn’t, how does Gwendolen put it? “thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations” – does it.

 

That’s not the point Merry. I’m concerned that you’ve finally and irrevocably lost your mind.

 

Well, we don’t have long to wait, do we. If I have, then in fifteen minutes give or take a few seconds, you’ll have absolute proof.

 

But, surely…

 

Yes?

 

Surely, you can’t be serious…

 

Can’t be, won’t be… Being serious, Zie, is the last thing I wish to be – but that hardly alters the truth of the matter, does it. If I say that humanity runs on my consciousness node – then either accept it and get technical, or wait fourteen minutes and thirty seconds to have a good laugh, and declare me a delusional duffer.

 

Ok – let’s get technical.

 

Finally.

 

How?

 

Someone has to get the ball rolling. Someone has to take it upon him or her self to hold the space – to act as master node. In this case – it was me.

 

But you’re not millions of years old are you?

 

No more than you are.

 

?

 

Obviously we’re hardly talking 3D, are we.

 

Er…

 

So millions of years, can be, for the sake of argument, a single day, or a single year, subdivided a million times, and within the programme, within the experiment, you’d be none the wiser.

 

Oh.

 

Yes. That’s rather strange, isn’t it – to discover that our world and time might be a very localised effect. The important thing is not “how long” or “how far” is it?

 

Er…

 

Because, in terms of consciousness, neither space nor time really amount to much.

 

Then what ultimately matters?

 

The quality, wouldn’t you say?

 

I er… the quality of our lives?

 

Of our consciousness. To what extent you are able to get your localised consciousness really singing and dancing, as if it were and is the real McCoy.

 

You mean it’s not?

 

Well, obviously – not if it’s piggybacking on mine.

 

Then how can this be?

 

If you are willing and able to be – to bring yourself to a fullness of mind and presence – then the micro me that you embody here suddenly achieves resonance with the real you – they kind of interlock or synchronise. Bingo. You’ve now just become fully activated. Alive in your own right.

 

Er… does that mean I’m no longer riding your carrier wave?

 

Not exactly. You’re still going to die in twelve minutes, but then again – you wouldn’t care, would you – because you’d know that this is only a tiny experiment – a little programme – and none of the data is going to be lost as you have a broadband cosmic cloud uplink which relays everything of any value back to your Mother node.

 

So, you were the one who set this whole experiment up?

 

In a manner of speaking, yes.

 

How do you mean, in a manner of speaking?

 

Well, ultimately, you and I are all much of a much, aren’t we?

 

We are?

 

Absolutely.

 

So I set it up too?

 

Not exactly.

 

?!!”$%^

 

In this game awareness is everything, isn’t it? So, unless you’re aware that you and I are one – that we were both equally responsible for setting up the experiment, then it’s meaningless to claim you were there, isn’t it? It would be like claiming you’re God.

 

Which is what you seem to be claiming, Merry.

 

Yes, but only because I know that doing so is merely a technicality, even though it may be true, technically, but that it makes me neither bigger, nor better than you or anyone else. It’s merely the function I’m able to carry out – rather beautifully, if you don’t mind me saying.

 

Oh – so you’re proud of being exceptional, are you?

 

It seems that this last remark is sour grapes – has nothing to do with me or what I said, does it Zie – but a sense, rather, of envy or despondency that you’re not the one, in my place, claiming to be God.

 

I assure you….

 

Yes, but you only have eleven minutes remaining to make empty, meaningless assurances of no value whatsoever. You can use your time more productively, if I’m not greatly mistaken.

 

Listen Merry, I’m sick of you threatening me and the entire world with annihilation. It’s some kind of a sick joke. What on Earth do you hope to achieve by playing this macabre, twisted game? Have you really no better way to get cheap thrills?

 

Ah – now you’ve arrived at the angry, fighting phase – the warrior has awoken.

 

Well congratulations. You can score that as a victory if you like, that you’ve provoked me and I lost my cool. But that doesn’t alter the fact that I think you’re pitiable playing this kind of utterly inhuman game.

 

Excellent. Now – let’s compare before and after.

 

Huh?

 

Here – I’m going to show you your energy field five minutes ago, and how it is now.

 

?

 

Merry appears to bring up a 3D screen in the air, in front of Zie which reveals two living images – the first small and uninspiring, the second much more powerful, extending way further – connecting with some vague lines all around.

 

That’s me?

 

Yup.

 

Wow – that’s quite a change.

 

Yup.

 

Because I got angry?

 

Chicken and egg.

 

Huh?

 

You could say you got angry because you activated your field, and you required the mood of a warrior to hold it strong and firm – rather than fizzling out in an instant.

 

Oh.

 

Zie has a good look and starts trying to feel this field, those energy lines which he appears to be connected to. Call it psychosomatic, or pure fantasy – but he actually seems to feel something there.

 

Excellent Zie. Now focus on what you don’t really want to think about – the end of the world – the complete loss of your cosmic net in 8 minutes – not the fear – that will achieve nothing – here, look at me instead. What do you see?

 

Zie sees Merry’s energy field for the first time revealed in all its glory – extending out further and further – connecting to some vast, beautiful geometrical form of which Merry appears to be the centre – countless intersecting circles or spheres. The egg of life. The flower of life. Call it what you will – Zie can see and feel the living vibrancy – that nothing can affect Merry as long as he’s tuned to this incredible, powerful force, this bio-geometric field. Suddenly, the physical world, 3D reality looks kind of ridiculous – a tiny blip in an overwhelming field of is^ness. Zooming in Zie can see how the whole of his 3D reality emerges from one single strand which Merry holds separate from everything else, which divides, divides and divides again and again, ad infinitum, until here we are – more than seven billion people living in a totally real, totally physical reality, that’s only real, only physical because it’s part, though miniscule, of something vastly bigger and, more to the point, totally interconnected.

 

As long as you’re in your five senses, and your rational mind, you are bound by the magic, the power, the rules of 3Deity. Focus instead on the flower of life, on the near infinite that you just saw.

 

But how?

 

By feeling it.

 

Huh?

 

You felt it. That was the only way you could see it.

 

Suddenly, this dawns on Zie, that indeed, he felt it right in the pit of his stomach, and beyond – in a barely recognisable tug, the faintest of threads which somehow emanate from…

 

Not exactly the heart as you know it – but that’s the general gist of it. Oh, gotta go now Zie. Been nice knowing you. It's been a blast, no pun intended.

 

For a second – panic, blind panic – but something flashes up on the 3D screen that seems to be lingering in his mind’s eye – Zie observes his field fizzling away – till almost nothing remains – and anger – a kind of anger erupts within – not a hating anger – not a cruel anger – but an anger without any trace of pity – an anger which defies Zie’s initial response – defies the mood of despondency or defeat – which stamps a foot and declares no matter what the outcome may or may not be – it will stand brave, stand erect, stand strong: true to the vision – the flower of life – whatever it is – which comes from deep within – from a place of power within Zie.

 

Zie feels the lights going out, dying gut wrenchingly. The field goes down. Merry has withdrawn as he said he would. Zie breathes, breathes, feels, feels, white anger, calm and resolute holds the spheres, holds the greater whole – the allness, the isness, the… he is one but there are others. He cannot see them with his eyes, but he sees them nonetheless. Together they are nine. Together they hold the flower of life. Together they are one. And Merry – is that you? The nine ask simultaneously – as they sense their field flipping, so to speak, up to the next level.

 

Zie?

 

Merry?

 

What are you doing here? A library on Zephel-smug Pitak.

 

What about the others?

 

What others?

 

The nine?

 

You mean the eight?

 

I mean – we were nine, weren’t we?

 

Er… if you're including yourself, as one normally would, but numbers have never been my thing, really, have they?

 

Is it a rule that you’re not allowed to confirm or deny any of this from within any particular iteration of the field?

 

Ah… funny that, isn’t it. No idea what you’re talking about, but suddenly my tummy has a strange tickly sensation within so I suspect, I rather suspect you must be onto something.

 

So what happened to the others?

 

Honestly Zie, I’m not your nanny. If you want to know something important you really need to find it out yourself. That’s the only way you can verify anything at all in this cockamania.

 

Zie has no difficulty reawakening, reactivating the flower of life feeling of interconnected spheres – and senses the nine. Apparently they’ve all had the same idea, simultaneously – they’re all high fiving one another – electronically – so to speak.

 

Bizarre, isn’t it? Zie suddenly notices Merry standing beside him – he’s back in normal reality. The evening. Somewhat disorientated. 

 

How long was I out for?

 

Er… Not too sure, Zie. I seem to have lost track of time myself. But it’s the evening now, so you’ve been gone a while, haven’t you.

 

But the date?

 

Er… Like I said, Zie, I seem to have lost track of time. It’s not going to be as easy fixing dates as it used to be, but on the other hand, I’m not entirely sure that it was worth the trouble. It looks like you either have your cake or you eat it.

 

Huh?

 

Either you live in a world where you can fix time and place with absolute certainty – but find yourself trapped and unable to escape the iron dominion of things that are fixed rigidly, or…

 

Zie and the nine computate with bewildering speed. Their combined conscious mind  looks throughout the entirety of the field they encompass and with absolute certainty, and absolute serenity – they know that this new iteration of their world, their reality – can take them into incomparably more versions of…

 

You actually pulled the plug on us.

 

Us?

 

Amazingly – Zie is thinking of the nine – like they are his world – not the seven billion people who suddenly ceased to exist.

 

You see – you don’t even care about all those men and women who lost their lives.

 

I… don’t seem to be able to feel anything. Wait a minute. You’re evading the issue. You pulled the plug.

 

How do you think we set up a reality Zie?

 

I really don’t know Merry. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.

 

Believe it or not, there are protocols.

 

?

 

They may sound artificial or arbitrary – but they are aligned with the field you’ve just experienced at first hand – with the nine.

 

Er… And Zie feels, knows this to be so.

 

It’s a bit like donating a part of myself – a little energy – which I can do by creating a kind of debt – but ultimately nature abhors a vacuum – and she…

 

She?

 

She, for the sake of argument, won’t allow it to persist indefinitely. There must be a preplanned exit point.

 

So you had no choice?

 

I… er, wouldn’t exactly say that – but in the end, if things are to work for the best, they work in accordance with a geometry, or an underlying music or vibration – do they not?

 

I wouldn’t know.

 

No, unless you chose to – in which case you do.

 

So you thought we’d survive the apocalypse?

 

Maybe yes, maybe no.

 

You didn’t care?

 

Kind of that too. Caring, especially caring too much, affects the field, these interlocking spheres, if you will – interferes with the healthy, natural flow, the isness of be – for want of a better term.

 

So the master loves the pupil, but at the same time…

 

Correct, assuming the master is actually human, or alive himself.

 

Oh God – is their no end to these obfuscations and caveats? Do you have to eradicate every last trace of certainty or whatty-ness from the dialogue?

 

Would you have me give you a false sense of things being more than ifitudes?

 

I…

 

Zie starts to cry. Sobbing, not bitterly, but heartily, from the depths within, which are readjusting to a world that seems bereft of old familiar borders and boundaries. It isn’t a painful or particularly unpleasant feeling – and suddenly it’s over. Something has shifted, adapted to the new reality.

 

I feel no loss.

 

Like the anger you experienced. It came, it went. It served its purpose. In the old reality you would have personalised it, finding fault, looking for causes in a confusing tapestry of fear, guilt, shame and doubt – but now…

 

Now… Thank you Merry, for helping me arrive at the nine, for the world you gave me, and the world you took away. It was the perfect incubator. Now the egg has hatched and somehow I know that I am ready to live and learn and grow.

 

Amen.

 

 

Sunset. Music. Credits.

 

0=1

 

We would like to thank all the men and women who gave their lives to make this dream a reality. Their memories shall be cherished for all time, and in all likelihood, they are not half as dead as the script writers like to think they are. A sequel perhaps? What do you think? Answers on a postcard c/o Malcolm Mandelbread, Barnard's Star, or in the comments down below.