《Phaneroscopic Phoenix》


 The Beginning of Goodbye

    Rampaging, blood trickling down his chest, he pressed forward despite the pleas of desperation. In the open field amidst the howling trees and wild grass, there was nothing left to accomplish except the road ahead.


    ¡°Marcus! We already did enough! You¡¯ve already done so much. So stop and let¡¯s head back!¡±


    Marcus trudged onwards. The horizon afar with its golden sunset shined onto his glistening skin dried from sweat, tears, and gore. A few lacerations marked his back and a puncture wound heaved up and down on his right abdomen.


    ¡°Marcus, please!¡± The girl thirty paces behind collapsed onto her knees. ¡°Please¡­¡±


    The evening sunset seemed to welcome him. Marcus smiled with a crazed light in his eyes. ¡°Is it a life worth living if you don¡¯t give everything you can?¡±


    ¡°But you have!¡±


    ¡°As long as I¡¯m standing, breathing, seeing, feeling, there is still my life to give. To constantly endure, there is no greater meaning.¡±


    The girl wanted to break into tears, but something within wouldn¡¯t let her. A knot welled up in her throat as she choked. What could she say?


    Marcus screamed, ¡°Did you forget about Samuel and the others? His dying breath, his final attempt at glory, he passed in my arms! He had a choice between safely returning back to ground zero instead of continuing. So tell me, why did he fight so goddamn hard?¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Marcus! We already found the Light of Unbounded Fervor. With it, we can go back and change the world! Isn¡¯t that what Samuel wanted?¡±


    Marcus laughed like a maniac. ¡°You really think the Light can simply resolve all the issues that plague us? You really think some abstract, intangible miracle substance placed on Earth can truly change the hearts of all?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°If change could come about easily, then the universe would truly be a meaningless existence. After all, the universe follows the Principle of Least Effort wordlessly, indifferently.¡± Refusing to elaborate any further, Marcus walked. He could feel his lungs burning like molten iron, his heart violently thumping, his thighs sore, his shoulders and arms going limp, and his mind struggling to retain consciousness. He knew he was close to the source, the birthplace of the Light. If he could reach there, a place beyond the realms of knowledge currently known to humanity, there would be no turning back. This is what he wanted. Born a devil who learned to love, he had already sacrificed everything he could. Now, his only and last friend in this alien dimension, the girl who pleaded for him to rest, would disappear as well.


    Marcus¡¯ body began to disintegrate, a familiar sight to those who knew they were transitioning into the next membrane of this dimension. Closer and closer to the horizon he marched, the sunlight beckoning him to seek everything he was destined for, the girl yelled at him. But he could no longer hear her. A suffocating silence, like that of sleep paralysis where his body couldn¡¯t budge even a single millimeter, Marcus embraced his powerlessness in the face of the overwhelming infinity, the vast sea of the unknown. For Marcus had now entered uncharted territory, an unexplored membrane that humanity deemed forbidden. Theorized as a zone of disconnect, modern technology would have zero means of transporting him back to Earth.


    The girl sat there in the desolate field of yellow grass as the sun waned. Marcus had vanished.

 Traces of Light

    Civilization on Earth had progressed rapidly in the mere half millennium since the dawn of the 21st century. At the turn of 2500, problems such as underdevelopment in third world countries with the lack of basic necessities had all but extinguished under the guidance of technological innovation alongside a paradigm shift in economy. Because of believing one nation¡¯s well-being is tied to others, a collective effort of humanity has led to the establishment of universal welfare with basic utilities of water and electricity provided for every human on Earth. This, on top of the prevailing capitalistic culture from the ever-so dominant United States, has fostered an environment where one can openly compete with others in the free market or pursue their own interests without having to face the repercussions of financial instability.


    Yet even with physical well-being secured and adequate conditions for one to attain spiritual wellness provided as well, a new problem had arisen. Or more accurately, the problem had always been there but now with the most simple issues of survival resolved, had been thrusted into the spotlight like a sawing-a-woman-in-half magic trick gone wrong. The problem, more formally referred to as puzzlement, is a synecdoche to the puzzlement of the commons. In a single sentence, the problem is, despite our stellar intellect relative to other organisms coexisting with us on Earth, we humans have an inability to be self-governing and thus, we often find ourselves lost and confused on what to do at times, like a puzzle piece hoping for some higher power to properly put us into the right place in the puzzle we call ¡°the grand scheme of things.¡± In a more prolonged analysis, and in fact an entire field of study one can do their PhD on, we call it Project Day. Why such a name? Some jest once we figure out this great big mystery of the human condition, it will be as clear as day.


    Marcus chuckled at the notion. ¡°Clear as day¡­¡± he mumbled.


    Sitting in an auditorium surrounded by other youthful appearances flourishing at the prime of their lives, Marcus felt like he could have been anyone else sitting in the room, experiencing the dim lights and the sterile smell of cleaning solution as another person, bearing all their personal memories that made them who they were. But the universe dictated through its unfathomable machinery that no, Marcus is destined to be an average six-feet mix of French, Chinese, and African whose outer surface shone of pale skin and dark brown eyes with outstanding athleticism and an eye for detail.


    On the stage below, a woman addressed, ¡°Welcome class! I see many bright faces. I see many hopes. And I see many who understand the circumstances, an exciting and dangerous endeavor which you all have the great potential to be a part of.


    In this three-week training course, we will help shape both your body and spirit. Admittedly, by the end of training, I¡¯d expect that in the four to five hundred of you listening to me in this room, at a maximum of about two dozen will remain. This is for everyone¡¯s safety.


    With expectations reminded, let us now begin. What is Project Day? As all of you know, five years ago, an anomaly in spacetime had been detected via gravitational lensing. Not surprisingly, something invisible that could warp gravitational fields causing light to bend naturally suggests dark matter or black holes as the primary candidates. Without exception, it has to be. Right? The reason we describe this astronomical observation as an anomaly has to do with the fact that strong signals were detected from this object. They were signals that held a complex yet decipherable pattern.


    Black holes are eliminated from being a possibility since information cannot escape the event horizon of a black hole. Dark matter doesn¡¯t interact with the electromagnetic force meaning it would be odd to detect electromagnetic signals from such an object. The presence of these signals on top of the elusive character of this anomaly points to the possibility of a new object we had stumbled upon.


    A year passed before we fully unraveled the meaning of the first signal. The signal, nor the ones which followed, were intranslatable into words of the human language. Rather, they could only be generated as a sequence of images. On the projector here, I will now proceed to show you a few in order of the discovery date.¡±


    The first image flashed with a frozen lake reflecting a dancing aurora borealis overhead. Something so pristine, so azure, one saw the ice glittered in splendor. One could imagine skating across, twirling, spinning in the air and gracefully landing, forever entranced and full of majesty. Yet the ominous iridescent purple of the aurora lurked in the background, a sinister undertone, faded and ephemeral.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    The second image continued in the theme of coldness, the interior of a glacial cave. Unlike the first image, however, the closed walls sharply juxtaposed the open air and spanless sky. Instead of the fleeting nature of life, one felt an inexplicable loneliness. There was nothing but the whiteness and glassy, melting ice that seemed to hollowly echo in the chamber where none could find. A cave even more man-made than the self-realization of being one among many, the ice held a transparency clearer than old age, knowing ¡®thyself¡¯ as one that seeks but will always remain undiscovered in the march of time.


    The third image broke into spring. Cherry blossoms fluttered in helical clusters, Tufts of cotton clouds drifted in the baby blue. On a plateau of beautiful green and vibrant flora rested a gazebo. An indistinct figure could be discerned relaxing in its afternoon shade. Who were they? Were they thinking about something? How long have they been there? The figure, not human nor distinguishable in any other organism, exuded the aura of an individual well-practiced in their craft, skillful and wise, filled with inscrutable judgment.


    More images, a total of twenty, followed. Some showed lost ruins or shattered artifacts while others displayed red waterfalls and yellow moons. Cryptic, wondrous, nightmarish, and ethereal, all these places instilled a sense of adventure and elicited the innate curiosity that had originally brought so many students into this room.


    The last image was an open field of wild grass scattered with trees. It was the most ordinary scene among all that had been shown so far. No dazzling colors, no exotic structures, and devoid of intentions. Far in the distance one could see the sunset.


    ¡°Everyone back?¡± Collective exhales interrupted the silence as students in the auditorium redirected their attention back to the lecturer. ¡°They¡¯re stunning, aren¡¯t they? I also had that reaction the first time I saw them. What makes these images incredible is in the fact that they are very worldly. They originate from someplace else but through translation, become something familiar.


    These resonating illustrations are not merely digitally constructed paintings that we initially believed them to be. They are very real places. We have sent people there, as you all know, through holistic reconstruction, essentially launching robotic vessels of human experience into the anomaly.¡±


    One of the audience members raised their hands.


    ¡°Yes, in the back?¡±


    ¡°Hi. I was wondering even with Project Day as the forefront of space exploration, making it a global effort, why is the majority of our taxes funding solely this? There appears to be an abnormally high investment into this project from governments of all nations.¡±


    The lecturer nodded before speaking in great spirits, ¡°At some point, we would like to get rid of all the terrible things in the world. Even though homelessness, poverty, and illness affects less than a fraction of a percent of the people on Earth in this century, we still find ourselves in trouble. There is still a need for laws to not only try deterring people from crime, but to appropriately punish those who have in the name of justice. There are still issues on the personal level such as general unhappiness and lack of fulfillment in many.¡±


    ¡°The puzzlement?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. We always need rules set in place for us. The rules don¡¯t work because each person is different. But the rules exist because we are all prone to vices.


    In the explorations into the anomaly, we have discovered traces of an unknown substance. When one looks at it, an indescribable clarity and invigoration raptures the soul. It makes one more receptive to the words of others, makes one more present in the moment, and fills one with purpose by reminding them what was always important to them. With this, we believe it can change the human condition. Imagine a world where everyone was much more communicative and caring while maintaining their individual sense of purpose, fortified by this substance.¡±


    Another person raised their hand and chimed in, ¡°But wouldn¡¯t trust still be the main issue? Even if we cared more and listen to each other more, like you said, we¡¯re ¡®prone to vices.¡¯¡±


    The lecturer briefly responded, ¡°The puzzle isn¡¯t finished until all the pieces are in place. That is the kind of problem we¡¯re facing. Then, the kind of solution required is one where all participants gradually, simultaneously trust each other. The substance, which we call the Traces of Light, is surely capable of facilitating such a momentous process.¡±

 Hatchlings

    Marcus woke. His head fuzzy from god-knows-how-long-he¡¯s-been-out, hues of white and gray hovered before him. He blinked thrice. People?


    Pushing off with difficulty as the ground jiggled and sank like a foamy mattress underneath his feet, he made his way over to the group of figures huddled around a glowing brazier. ¡°Good morning?¡±


    One of them turned to look at him. Tubular appendages snaking out from their body and a face of elephant skin with three orifices one thought the head to be a deformed, wrinkly bowling ball. Wouldn¡¯t it be weird for Marcus to stick three of his fingers into each bottomless cavity, dark and forbidden?


    Marcus surveyed the rest of the lot. Each had fascinating characteristics. The one furthest across had rectangular buttons jutting out of its round, nearly elliptical body best described as an oversized, cranberry-red potato shielded with cone spikes. The one closest to the brazier had a multipartite body of gravity-defying fluidity, like the colloid in a lava lamp. The shortest one bounced up and down like chimeric jello, a slime able to manifest different body parts of creatures such as the heads of a hydra or the scaly torso of a dragon.


    At the center of the organization where he now felt an undeniable affinity towards those around it glowed a miraculous warmth. Far more enrapturing than even the Light of Unbounded Fervor, let alone the Traces of Light from which one derived, Marcus understood before him radiated the peerless source of the Light.


    No wonder he felt like they were all friends here. Regardless of whether you had a hundred spindly arms or none at all, they could all shake hands here on a common ground that we have made it this far. Alien by definition, there was no such spirit behind the meaning. As long as you were a living being, you were on equal footing with everyone else.


    The bowling ball gurgled a foreign noise yet Marcus understood. He responded, ¡°I¡¯m excited, too. But is this all there is?¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Many turned to look at him. How could they not? In the presence of the source and the fact that those who made it this far are not minor characters, the looks were those of astonishment. We have found the source, the light which illuminates the cold moon in our hearts for each other to see. What more do you need?


    ¡°I know the source beats loneliness, something we are inevitably condemned to at the moment of birth and at the final moment of death. It''s the salvation of being heard. Surviving the second membrane, it¡¯s no surprise we value it even more so. But don¡¯t you guys wonder what gave birth to this source?¡±


    Some nodded while others began to remember.


    ¡°This, this thing,¡± Marcus pointed at the innocuous brazier, ¡°is not the true source. It¡¯s because it¡¯s not endless.¡±


    The chimeric jello morphed into a circle of Ouroboros as if to confirm their comprehension. Many more nodded in inquisition.


    ¡°Infinite like the self-cannibalizing serpent, a never ending cycle of life and death played on the cosmic scale, there is more awaiting us. Let¡¯s find out who or what created this source!¡±


    An unparalleled camaraderie from personal backgrounds stretching beyond distant galaxies, each individual rose from their accustomed spots around the brazier like phoenixes rising from the ashes. Marcus, with his words ringing through the dome of gray and white, walked past them, pressing onwards like he always did. One by one, the great characters of history followed in his footsteps, in the pursuit of answering the mystery behind their worlds and the existence of everything.


    Burning up, crying, laughing, rejoicing, each watched as their bodies and fluids disintegrated while they marched further and further away from the dubious source of the Light of Unbounded Fervor.


    Pushing through the membrane barrier, a feat that required one to overcome and sacrifice, often killed a majority from the immense stress and pain one had to undergo. But in that moment, even though they were leaving the Light that served as the gateway for the communication of souls, the remedy to loneliness, they endured, cherishing the time they shared while it lasted. For Marcus, even if it was only for a few minutes, he felt like he had known them for an eternity.


    Soon, the noise died down and without loss of life, only the brazier remained by itself in the entrance to the zone of disconnect.

 Big Talk for Small Characters

    Expectations are bound for the disappointed when it comes to envisioning how it must transpire. The first week of training consisted of rigorous physicality, involving weight-training, swimming, biking, calisthenics, and others. For class, one studied different practices of philosophy, mainly Stoicism and Taoism, with assigned homework and classwork activities per usual.


    Sore throughout, Marcus found a spot in the center of the same auditorium where the head of the department gave them the introductory address last Sunday afternoon. The same head now stood at the podium again, smiling. Evidently from the large patches of vacancies, the audience had diminished to only a fifth of its size.


    ¡°Hello, hello! I hope those of you who stayed for the first week had the most enjoyable time of learning and growing. From the resilience of Stoicism balanced with the adaptability of Taoism, you are well on your way to the next generation of explorers in Project Day. Honed physiques as well, there is no doubt you are all healthy and exceptional individuals.¡±


    Many in the crowd smiled back, internally grateful for having made it thus far. Others looked on with a dead gaze, sleep-deprived or afflicted by some other ailment of mismanagement.


    ¡°Alright. Welcome to Phanerology. Today¡¯s two-hour session is straightforward. First, I want you all to group up in pairs. Preferably, grouping up with someone you don¡¯t know, someone you¡¯re scared to approach, someone who you naturally feel repelled from, the better. Got that? I¡¯ll give you two minutes. Or else¡­¡± She chuckled while swinging her arms, encouraging the students to find their partners, perhaps their fated ones.


    Marcus burped. He turned around to see two blue eyes stare back at him.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Marcus answered.


    Two minutes elapsed, marked by the hurried beeping of a phone timer in the lecturer¡¯s right hand. ¡°Anyone without a partner?¡±


    A few hands were raised.


    ¡°Okay. I would like you all to please exit the auditorium.¡±


    One of them asked, ¡°Where to?¡±


    ¡°Home. It was a pleasure.¡±


    A couple of hesitant looks from those called out, the lecturer added, ¡°Let¡¯s end on a good note. I wouldn¡¯t want to call security to forcefully escort you out.¡±


    Ashamed or happy that the end for them came, the undignified stragglers got up and hustled down the flight of steps to the door. Marcus looked on in curiosity.


    ¡°It seems we have a lot of you left. Today¡¯s activity will be a difficult but interesting one. I would like to think of it as a trust fall for the soul. Now then, Richard!¡±


    From the side of the stage, a man in a baseball cap emerged with a cart of tiny lamps. At least that¡¯s what they looked like.


    ¡°Thank you, Richard. Yes, I¡¯ll be there for dinner. Everyone! What we have here are calculated portions of Traces of Light.¡± Oblique glass capsules entrapping what appeared to be lax fireflies, those who beheld the incandescent shine couldn¡¯t help but inch closer.


    ¡°Before I distribute these delegated portions, here are the specifics. After you retrieve the Traces of Light for you and your partner to share, I want both of you to talk. It doesn¡¯t matter who goes first, but eventually both must confide in each other about their deepest¡­ things. Your vulnerabilities, meaning your insecurities, your fears, your regrets, your true happiness, to name a few, I hope can be fully transparent between you and your partner today. Again, the more the better. Those in the first three rows can come down now. We¡¯ll go up the seats.¡±


    Marcus snatched a portion for the both of them. Placing it to the side, he directly peered into those two blue eyes of his partner, abruptly recollecting, ¡°In elementary school, I remember telling this friend of mine that the reason why no one liked them was because they were too clingy. I didn¡¯t do it out of hate. I thought I was helping.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Marcus grinned like a sly fox, probing his listener, watching every little twitch, contraction and dilation of pupils, the small rapid movement of their eyes darting back and forth, observing. He continued, ¡°The problem was that I¡¯m terribly stupid. Having said those words, I didn¡¯t understand at the time why they stopped talking to me as the two of us grew more and more distant. Strangers, two kids who didn¡¯t know of each other¡¯s existence across the schoolyard, it became like this with whoever I met. I learned since then that most people hate honesty.¡±


    His listener asked, ¡°Does it still bother you?¡±


    ¡°No. Because it makes sense.¡±


    ¡°It must have been lonely.¡± The two blue eyes looked into the Trace of Light resting beside them. Feeling themselves loosen, they let out a sigh. ¡°Whenever I¡¯m by myself, I feel like crying sometimes. I¡¯m just staring at the tree branches outside my window waving from the wind and I¡­ I think, where am I going? Where will I end up?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± Her two blue eyes twinkled before she asked, ¡°Does anything scare you?¡±


    Marcus laughed. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m a big scaredy cat. I tend to always think of the worst possible scenario. It¡¯s probably a genetic defect. Only reason is at my side in those moments.¡±


    ¡°But wouldn¡¯t that make it worse since you overthink?¡±


    ¡°You see, that¡¯s what it seems to be but the worst possible cases can always be logically reconsidered. It¡¯s only when emotions get in the way of reasoning that it becomes a problem, that it becomes overthinking. You get fearful and lead yourself down a dark, winding path where beasts run amok, lurking, waiting to devour you. Everything goes to crap.


    Also, I realized it¡¯s only considered overthinking when you act upon it and it¡¯s the wrong conclusion. In other words, if you do the right thing from overthinking, people won¡¯t call you out on it. They probably would be happy for having someone so considerate.¡±


    The girl nodded.


    Marcus¡¯ lower legs kicked up and down. ¡°In summary, fear is your own worst enemy. What things scare you?¡±


    The girl snickered at herself. ¡°Even though I¡¯m already twenty-three, I¡¯m still scared of adults.¡±


    ¡°Adults? Including yourself?¡±


    ¡°Not me! I hope not. But in general.¡±


    Marcus quietly listened. The girl neither looked at the Trace of Light nor up. Marcus waited.


    She stated, ¡°Adults can be so mean and unfair.¡±


    ¡°Deceptive? Experienced? Filled with hidden intentions?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. They aren¡¯t good anymore.¡±


    ¡°You know what you can do?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    Marcus devilishly grinned. ¡°Give them a piece of your mind. Tell them exactly what you¡¯re thinking when they¡¯re being unreasonable. If you can do that, they won¡¯t scare you anymore.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Marcus addressed the glimmer of hope in her blue eyes. ¡°One time this woman kept telling me that I should take it easy, you know. Relax. Lower your expectations. I told that woman, ¡®Just because you feel like you¡¯ve given up on yourself doesn¡¯t mean you should make others do the same just to make yourself feel better.¡¯ She bitch-slapped me real hard.¡±


    Seeing her wide-eyed expression, Marcus gleefully added, ¡°That was my mom.¡±


    The girl clasped her hands over her mouth.


    ¡°Yep. I love her though.¡±


    Before the girl could find the words to articulate, as if trying to pick up scattered letters of the alphabet off the floor, the lecturer called, ¡°Can I have everyone¡¯s attention? Over here we have a great question asked by a pair. In my fingers, notice that their capsule is now empty. No more Traces of Light. What to do?


    Well, it¡¯s a good time to let you all know, the more you look at it, the more it dwindles until it vanishes.¡±


    Some pairs had grim expressions, one of which glanced at theirs but rapidly looked away, remembering the words just spoken.


    ¡°If Traces of Light were permanent, we would not have an issue and Project Day would have already been a success. The problem is Traces of Light are like any other non-renewable resource on Earth. Harvested by brave and learned explorers who risk their lives, the supply is extremely limited. So if you run out, best of luck to you and your partner.¡± Making a final jab at those who seemed conflicted by this irresolvable predicament, the lecturer rolled her eyes, disclosing, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s impossible to completely open up to a stranger and tell them what¡¯s going on in your life. The web is excellent for anonymity, but it¡¯s genuinely insincere and downright cheating. Faces, voices, identities transparent before you, I¡¯d expect the remaining ninety minutes to be fruitful. Or else¡­¡±


    Marcus laughed a bit too loud.

 Absolutely Absurd

    Abyssal, he could not feel the others. Was he screaming? His voice soundlessly propagated into the inky nothingness. Was he feeling? Anger from selfishness, happiness from love, sadness from loneliness, emptiness from the void, there was no one to talk to. Where did his otherworldly companions go? Immensely dark, he imagined it must have always been this way, born blind. Except he had lost all thermosensation, proprioception, olfaction, and others, effectively nonexistent. Were his thoughts even his own? Painful, delirious illusions erupted in his mind, worse than abandonment, more torturing than murdering one¡¯s own dearest. Inserting over the memories of a dog who he had to euthanize after eight years of barking, licking, walks, and that idiosyncratic butt-rubbing across the living room carpet that Darwin took pride in, gleaming in those two doll eyes paired with his shaggy mane, the image of utter disrespect, of an unsightly past-time from those who paid good money to satisfy their libido tore into him. Vigorously battering, the epitome of human garbage, Marcus didn¡¯t want to say more, think more. But he couldn¡¯t do anything. Without anyone or anything to express himself to, his consciousness drowned within, unable to escape whatever he had leapt into. Incorporeal, infinite, Marcus felt himself dissolving, turning cold, losing everything, and for the first time in a long, long time, giving up, surrendering to the objective meaningless of the vast darkness of space.


    What meaning is there when there are no answers? What do you say when those answers you had are simply make-believe? What do you do when you learn no matter how much you love, they will all eventually leave you, like the silent applause to the closed curtains of your very own theater?


    Marcus faded and faded some more, a tattered blanket of a child buried in the rubbles of war or the dull smudges of chalk marking the blacktop of an elementary school in mourning from the atrocity of the machine gun shells clinking to the wailing sirens.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Marcus reached out to grab for anything he could. His mind assaulted him with more memories. Blowing bubbles during Fun-day, an organized event by the teachers for the last day of school, rambunctious children ran about. The volunteers handed him some free ice-pops to beat the summer heat. Blue was his favorite. A friend of his, one that was many years his prior or one that held a decade over him, laughing so hard they couldn¡¯t breathe, Marcus couldn¡¯t remember what he said or did. Called a failure by those he wanted to watch him the most, watch him grow and succeed, he remembered yelling, ¡°Then, what am I supposed to do?¡± He had to hold himself together with everything he had. There were lovely walks with her in their own little world. Only the two of them understood.


    A collage of his short-lived story, Marcus remembered those crucial moments where he balled himself up from everyone, rejecting love and refusing it all. What did he do in the face of malice? Did he not become corrupted? Did he not come back afterward, believing in the goodness of everything even when he had been hurt, when he knew how insignificant it all was?


    What meaning is there when there are no answers?


    ¡°There always will be answers if you search hard enough, if you keep trying.¡±


    What do you say when those answers you had are simply make-believe?


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter because even if it¡¯s make-believe, it¡¯s filled with love.¡±


    What do you do when you learn no matter how much you love, they will--


    ¡°So what?¡±


    The darkness began to fade this time while Marcus steadily materialized back into existence. Expressionless, Marcus patiently awaited for his vision to clear. He knew that if it meant he could understand just a bit better, he would go through and survive hell time and time again. No wonder Emily called him a masochist.

 What to Bring on the Road

    ¡°But you really are.¡±


    Marcus rolled the lumps of potato mash into spheres. ¡°Sometimes I picture myself floating effortlessly in the darkness, an immortal in the cold death of the universe. There is no loneliness despite the common belief popularized in our culture. There is nothingness, instead.


    My thoughts are contained. I am no longer a scaredy-cat that I once was. Because I accept loss in the pursuit of knowledge.¡±


    The blue-eyed girl sighed. ¡°What about your friends?¡±


    A third voice chimed in, ¡°Yeah, what about your friends?¡±


    ¡°Ah, they¡¯re right here with me.¡±


    The third voice pressed, ¡°Don¡¯t dodge the question.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. I¡¯m done with making my balls.¡± Marcus pirouetted to the kitchen sink to rinse off the oil from his hands, drying them with a paper towel, leaping onto the sofa of his suite.


    The girl continued her investigation, ¡°Doesn¡¯t it feel painful, though? Knowing that they¡¯ll all leave you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how it¡¯s like in general. People in your life come and go like the waves on a beach. The water is glistening with life and the grains of sand uncountable as are the facts of nature. When I think of it that way, I feel happy. Just like how I feel happy to have met you, Emily, and you as well, Samuel.¡±


    Emily frowned. Samuel shook his head. He expressed, ¡°We have a solemn Solomon over here.¡±


    ¡°I prefer stoic Solomon. Or even better, masochist Marcus.¡±


    Emily giggled. Marcus could see both their eyes twinkling. They come from a strong, loving place. Marcus understood because he was lucky, too.


    Samuel asked, ¡°Did you guys finish the essay?¡±


    ¡°For Phanerology?¡±


    ¡°Well, everything else is done at this point.¡±


    True. The three weeks had nearly run its course.


    Marcus repeated the prompt in severity, ¡°Why do you fight?¡±


    Emily confided, ¡°I remember I had to do a performance in middle school. I remember that day I had a really bad stomach ache. I was also low on sleep. My body didn¡¯t want to move because it was sore. I kept coughing in the bathroom. I needed to recompose myself. When you¡¯re up there performing, you can¡¯t show the audience a trace of fear or pain. You have to smile.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    I remember calming down. In the front row, my parents were watching me. They didn¡¯t say anything or do anything in particular when I got on stage. All I knew was that they believed in me. And so I did my best.¡±


    ¡°Did it all work out?¡±


    ¡°Well, I got first place and now, the story is part of my response to this dumb essay.¡±


    Marcus gave an endearing little grin.


    Samuel empathized, ¡°I had something similar except it was a high school tournament. My mom was up in the bleachers and I remember every good point scored, I¡¯d look up to see if she was watching.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s so cute,¡± Emily awed. One could visibly see each of their recollections holding themselves tight, each individual bound strongly, unbreaking, indefatigable.


    The two turned to look at Marcus, both warm with affection.


    Marcus revealed, ¡°The reason why I fight, why Marcus is Marcus, has to do with a pet bunny I had when I was young.¡±


    ¡°A bunny?¡±


    ¡°We got her when I was halfway through elementary school. Raising a pet came with many responsibilities I naturally could not fathom at that age. I knew how to clean her cage, clip her nails, wash her fur, change her litter, feed her food, but I didn¡¯t understand. I just thought this is what I must do. So, I didn¡¯t play with her as much as she wanted. Without a second companion, at the time, it must have been lonely whenever we were out of the house.


    I suppose children learn from their parents¡­


    But fast forward to middle school. After moving to the new house, my parents insisted they have her put outside. I tried to convince them to keep her indoors but to no avail. Her condition rapidly declined one day. Lethargic, immobile, eyes dim, she stopped eating her hay and barely had any stool. We took her to a vet. A diagnosis suggested she likely had uterine cancer. After all, we didn¡¯t spay her.


    The days passed. Her condition worsened. I remember for the first time, I worried about someone else over myself. A devil shouldn¡¯t be able to do that.


    I remember holding in my tears during class, controlling my voice when I had to speak, hiding my concern when I felt someone looked at me. Life goes on, though. Others did not notice me as I expected because everyone has their own lives to worry about.


    I got back home and nothing changed. We took her to the vet a second time to learn there is now blood in her stool. At most she has two more weeks. It is recommended that either we let her be or to put her down.


    Then, that night came. My parents, for once, let her inside. She tried hopping around the carpet but soon returned to her tired state. Perhaps she knew what we foolish humans were discussing. I remember staring into her eyes and seeing them twinkle with life. She was telling me she didn¡¯t want to die yet.


    The next day after school, my mom and I brought her to the vet. The adults discussed the pricing for her cremation, how each letter engraved onto her small wooden coffin would cost an extra ten dollars. The decision had been finalized. It had been fully thrusted on me. At the crucial moment, when the veterinarian assistant asked if we wanted to euthanize her, my mom couldn¡¯t make the choice and so I had to.


    When everything had been done, we drove home with only just the two of us. To put her out of suffering from the remaining days, this was for the best. I remember at home, my mom sat in front of the computer while I miserably wailed for the first time.


    I remember thinking about her thereafter, talking to her when we retrieved her coffin a couple weeks later. I remember extensively searching up the standard model, the building blocks of the universe, or anything else to answer the ¡®why¡¯ that hurt so much. I wanted to understand. In those two weeks where depression threatened to consume me, I resisted with all my might by those endless queries I typed into Google.


    In her absence, she had become a part of me. So to constantly endure, there is no greater meaning. Because once you die, it¡¯s game over.¡±

 The Wanderer and the Fabled

    Only the alien bowling ball accompanied him. The two, standing tall on the precipice, overlooked a magnificent citadel filled with exotic flora. Windless, soundless, breathless, it felt like the two were permanently painted into a scene. Nothing seemed to change. Bowling ball (BB) with their tubular appendages ventured forth, leaping off the cliff, lightly floating downward. Marcus joined.


    As the two descended, they could see little figures emerging from the fortified gates. BB propelled forward midair, apparently defying the conservation of momentum. Marcus curiously followed.


    A voice boomed from the plateau below, where the little figures now numbered over a hundred, ¡°Do the two of you believe in Gods?¡±


    ¡°Do we look the part?¡± BB asked.


    ¡°Most certainly. However, it would be kind if you can impart a bit about yourself.¡±


    BB started, ¡°I come from a terrain called Myzstiswa Np. Our kin thrives on the abundant vegetation that grows there. We go day by day observing the environment, performing extensive research into cultivating the best possible harvests as well as applying microscopic observations to the macroscopic.¡±


    ¡°For instance?¡±


    ¡°Emergence. Notice how the smallest particles which compose us do not, themselves, have any inherent properties that we have. By assembling more and more, simple constituents can produce emergent properties that they alone do not possess. We hope that observing emergent properties on the scale of life can be applied to phenomena near the scale of compact groups.¡±


    The two were now closer. Marcus observed these beings. They were fuzzy and dark, more abyssal than the black holes scattered across the cosmos, more unfathomable than the deepest, most ancient of wells. The voice, belonging to the foremost of the group, inquired, ¡°And you?¡±


    Marcus responded, ¡°I come from Earth. We are creatures coexisting with many others who love to play and explore. Fear is our downfall. Positivity is our saving grace. We are quite emotional. It can cloud our judgment. We are quite cold-blooded at times, It hurts the weak-willed. We are afraid to lose. We are happy when we have each other. But we are even happier when we know we don¡¯t own each other. Altogether, we¡¯re working on it.¡±


    The fuzzy leader chuckled, ¡°Did you not abandon them?¡±


    ¡°Letting go is different from abandonment.¡±


    The two finally landed. The voice whispered to them, now that they were in close proximity, ¡°This world welcomes you and all those who seek to understand. We are Fablas. We would like to bring you on a tour through the capital. Come along, tallyho.¡±


    Shuffling through the hundreds of spectators, the city inside impressed upon Marcus a strange feeling of lucidity. Nothing seemed to matter. But what splendor!


    Boundless varieties of trees, some with branches knotted in on itself, some fluorescing in spectral iridescence, some blossoming with bloody buds, and some plain as the unassuming orange sky above, all complimented the wondrous open. Silky gray water, fine like hair, coursed through transparent pipelines bending at right angles. Cobblestone glowed in fiery red, brilliant gold, verdant green, and forever more. The Fablas weaved about the dreamy metropolis like black birds, some hovering higher while others snuck low on the ground. Marcus asked, ¡°Where are the homes and buildings?¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    The Fabla answered, ¡°We live in everything and rest in the trees. When we have fully replenished our faculties, we seep back out.¡±


    ¡°So no one has a particular tree to rest in?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. But I assume it works differently in your world.¡±


    ¡°We own homes. We own cars. We own countless objects. We get to own them through money.¡±


    ¡°Money?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a thing used to buy objects.¡±


    The Fabla thought for a second and laughed. ¡°Imagine selling things you don¡¯t own.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s really complicated over there,¡± Marcus sarcastically humored.


    BB asked, ¡°How much do you guys know about the strange appearance of the hole?¡±


    ¡°That? Oh, that¡¯s what you would consider a wormhole.¡±


    Marcus asked, ¡°Wormhole?¡±


    ¡°A portal in spacetime connecting two different locations that may be extremely distant, impractical to traverse on the timescale of lightyears.¡±


    Marcus frowned and reasoned, ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem likely you guys would also call it that, let alone the fact that we can communicate intelligibly despite being completely different lifeforms, unless English is really that prevalent, its influence stretching far and unknown.¡±


    The Fabla explained, ¡°We have designed something called a Field Translator. It effectively deciphers our languages, translating from one to the other so we can communicate fluidly with minimal loss in meaning.¡±


    ¡°And did you guys use the Light to make the Field Translator?¡± Marcus continued.


    ¡°It took us five portions of the Light of Unbounded Fervor, one of the ingredients to construct such a universal device.¡±


    ¡°Five? So it¡¯s not a unique artifact in the membranes?¡±


    BB informed, ¡°We initially thought that as well since they were so damn hard to find. But the only condition for it to appear is when an individual themselves has truly found the Light within themselves.¡±


    ¡°Meaning?¡±


    ¡°The Light of Unbounded Fervor is nothing more than a physical manifestation of Enlightenment.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    The Fabla spoke deeply, ¡°It¡¯s a wonderful tool, but it comes with a hefty price.¡±


    Marcus solemnly stared ahead. ¡°And what would that be?¡±


    The Fabla brushed across patches of waving grass gentle like seaweed underwater, waiting on the ocean floor. ¡°To not have to worry about others, or about even oneself, there is no fear. So even if it¡¯s quite beautiful, we seem to have given up on each other.¡±


    True. If the Light of Unbounded Fervor belonged to the Enlightenment of a single individual, how can one expect to reach the truth by relying on someone else¡¯s? To rely on the perspective of another, one would not only have blindly given faith, but would have given up on their own character.


    Marcus contemplated a bit more. He saw, amidst the nature of the capital devoid of urbanization besides the fortress walls and numerous pathways, that each of these dark and fuzzy Fablas were isolated creatures, featureless yet communicative. Marcus mused, ¡°I bet you guys have plenty of Lights of Unbounded Fervor. A whole surplus hidden away somewhere.¡±


    The Fabla halted.


    Marcus asked, ¡°Why would the Fablas be so aptly prepared, receptive of guests like us? A Field Translator to break the barrier between galaxies. I didn¡¯t even ask about how this world can support extraterrestrial life. My automaton¡¯s energy level has been stable and in fact, steadily increasing since I have arrived here.¡±

 Take Flight!

    The Fabla whirled thrice in heightened fervor. ¡°Excellent deductions! Marvelous! May I ask how your automaton works before we press forth?¡±


    Marcus explained, ¡°We humans have invented holistic construction. By completely mapping an individual¡¯s brain, we can transport our consciousness into a different body such as this robotic vessel. The interesting thing is the robotic vessel is a near identical mimicry to the human anatomy, with nanomachines imitating the functions of the immune system, motor proteins, blood cells, etc. The only main difference is we don¡¯t require air. We, instead, have a tremendous battery life that lasts for two years with average level of activity. To recharge, we simply return back to ground zero.¡±


    The Fabla revealed, ¡°Universality finds itself in the persistence of life. There are many modes of survival. Our kind sustains on the inherent energy of the environment. It permeates throughout.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°We Fabla live in everything. But one can also say everything lives in us. The environment of our world is rich in pure energy at a sufficiently low density. The Field Translator not only translates languages spoken, but broadly translates energy (as one can think of communication as a transfer of energy through the propagation of waves). It can convert pure energy into the necessary type to satisfy your needs. Thus, everyone holds great abundance and there is nothing to worry about in terms of survival.¡±


    BB asked, ¡°Then, there is no competition in your world?¡±


    ¡°There is nothing to compete for by design. Our resources are secured from the get-go.¡±


    Marcus scratched his chin. ¡°Then, all your efforts can go to something greater, something which transcends your own species.¡±


    The Fabla confirmed, ¡°Yes. And the first step is to transcend from oneself.¡±


    ¡°Hence, every Fabla, at least moderately aged, in this world, has likely achieved Enlightenment.¡±


    The boundary of the fuzzy Fabla seemed to resolve into full definition, clear-cut like the frame of a mirror, reflecting all there is and all that isn¡¯t. ¡°Friends, the tour awaits us.¡±


    The two followed the Fabla to a depression in the ground that gave way to a dark underground path. Despite the hollowness, a warmth emanated from below. Some of the surrounding Fablas froze in place, peaceful spectators of an unspoken significance.


    ¡°This way.¡± The leading Fabla descended. Marcus and BB waded through the humid murkiness. Farther and deeper they went, a familiar feeling experienced not long ago. The darkness blinded, suffocated, tormented, and instilled fear. A fear to formulate the right words. A fear that stiffens the mind yet assaults with endless what-ifs and never-will-be¡¯s.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    A glorious light sparkled. The gold of life radiated in their view. Lined on the myriad shelves appended onto the walls of the flourishing grotto glowed balls of unwavering light, each individual source contributing to the whole like an epic symphony conducted by a mighty orchestra known as life. The ground blossomed with flowers of every imagination, tickling the mind and pleasing the senses. Trees of robust vitality reinforced the fertile soil, reaching high towards the ceiling with plenty room to spare. Spacious, to say the least, the grotto bore fruit for all.


    The Fabla explained, ¡°Those five balls of light arranged in the pentagonal blue structure are part of the Field Translator. The remaining thousands are each one of us. Throughout this world, in each city, there exists such a place where we host our Lights of Unbounded Fervor. We call these places Nirvana.¡±


    BB speculated, ¡°To live in a world with zero competition and unlimited abundance, each of you have found Nirvana?¡±


    The Fabla nodded. ¡°Our race cannot imagine a world of competing. Each of our kind are one face of the truth. In accordance with such a realization, we have nothing to hold against each other, emotionless.¡±


    Marcus shook his head. ¡°But I can see and hear your emotions.¡±


    ¡°The Field Translator is flawlessly functioning.¡±


    Marcus asked, ¡°Then, if this place has fully reached Enlightenment, what point is there? Is it not death?¡±


    The Fabla flew up to one of the Lights. ¡°This one is mine. If you look closely, you can see all the little things that have happened to me. But from far away, arranged neatly on these walls, my Light perfectly blends in with all the others. Each of our own subjective experiences are merely the reflection of a multifaceted diamond.¡±


    Marcus tried his best to understand. BB critiqued, ¡°If you are emotionless, how could each Light be unique?¡±


    The Fabla laughed. Marcus flinched. The Fabla easily rebutted, ¡°Even from your own worlds, emotions are not all there is to defining an individual. Our biology simply does not contain that sophisticated machinery. We are each individuals but we are incapable of experiencing emotions. There is nothing more to it.¡±


    Marcus conjectured, ¡°From what is observed here, BB and I have stumbled upon the equivalence of a utopia. However, there is no happiness, no sadness, no miracles, no suffering. Everyone who lives here is free from the cycle of the universe. There is no such thing as death nor is there rebirth. This is a world belonging to immortals.¡±


    The Fabla nodded.


    Marcus shook his head once more. ¡°Would you consider curiosity to be a form of emotion?¡±


    The Fabla responded, ¡°If you think so, then maybe we¡¯re not so emotionless at all. We¡¯re always willing to learn if it¡¯s one step closer to the truth.¡±


    Marcus reasoned, ¡°Thus, you built the Field Translator for aliens like us in order to understand us better. Because we are inherently different, holding a piece of truth in the universe that your kind lacks, you deliberately brought some of us over.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised by what other oddities we have discovered.¡±

 The First Closure

    ¡°Come down here,¡± Marcus beckoned.


    The Fabla obeyed.


    When the Fabla returned to the two mortals, Marcus swung with a right hook, sending his fist into the fuzz. The Fabla naturally did not evade as Marcus connected. His whole body flew right through as he plopped belly down onto the cushioning soil.


    A calm complacency, a sort of pacification where one struggled to leave the comfort of their futon on a chilly winter morning, hoping to stay for just ten more minutes, made Marcus slacken. Ten more minutes. Just a few more minutes. A few more minutes. So warm. So soft. But he was not happy. It became meaningless all the same. Floating in the darkness, this was the immortality he had dearly sought. Far away from everything, alone in the emptiness, nothing could touch him. Neither cold nor warm, neither suffering or indulging, neither yin nor yang, Marcus had let go of those friends in his heart. Was this beyond human?


    On the other end, the Fabla momentarily assumed the silhouette of Marcus. ¡°You know, the Fablas only come into contact with each other when we amalgamate.¡±


    ¡°Amalgamate?¡± BB asked.


    ¡°Universality dictates impermanence. Despite referring to ourselves as immortal in the sense of Nirvana, the universe which holds this concept will inevitably perish. We happen to be the same. At some point, our bodies malfunction. To preserve, we fuse with others to make anew.¡±


    ¡°Your kind is condemned to extinction?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes.¡±


    Marcus pushed himself up, everything quivering from exhaustion. The Fabla expressed, ¡°Thank you. I now understand.¡±


    BB asked, ¡°It was that easy?¡±


    Marcus acknowledged, ¡°Absolutely absurd.¡±


    The Fabla gestured to the environment with its hands before reverting back to its original form. ¡°Traces of Light can help one another understand each other for a bit. They are modicums of an individual¡¯s truth. The Light of Unbounded Fervor can help unify strangers across the cosmos. Like the one each of you found, they are self-evident. Nirvana is a collection of Enlightenment. It isn¡¯t the least bit astounding that Marcus and I instantly understood in that brief exchange.¡±


    BB recalled the brazier of Light in the zone of disconnect.


    Marcus seemed to read BB¡¯s mind. ¡°The Light from the brazier we gathered around would have been useless for understanding the Fablas. They are different from all of us.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°See for yourself.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    BB violently whipped one of its appendages at the Fabla but missed. The Fabla, having understood at a subconscious level, dodged BB. Although the Fabla felt angry from BB¡¯s act of aggression, it reasoned that it would have done the exact same if their roles were reversed.


    It was Marcus¡¯ turn to laugh. ¡°Do you mind if I expose all the shenanigans the Fablas have been up to?¡±


    The Fabla welcomed, ¡°Not at all.¡±


    BB humbly listened. Marcus narrated with clarity and love, as if he were talking not only to Emily and to the late Samuel, but to all those who were or could have been even if he had let go:


    ¡°Once upon a time there was a curious group of organisms known as the Fablas. They lived in their own world, and they lived peacefully. Being a place where there was never a lack of resources, they thrived in harmony. The Fablas, with much time to spare and a characteristic disposition independent of emotions, were naturally talented in divining the secrets of the universe which they inhabited.


    They began with their own world and their own kind. From extensive study through introspection and correspondence with each other and their local environment, they quickly attained Enlightenment. To them, Enlightenment was maturation as to humans, adulthood. With Enlightenment for all, they constructed sanctuaries known as Nirvana which held these manifestations of their Enlightenment, nothing more as a form of energy.


    Having achieved Nirvana, they seem to have reached their final goal as a species. So, built upon the premise of searching for the truth, the Enlightenment which they possess, they decided to look elsewhere. But where else to look than the deep expanse of space past their own?


    They studied some more and discovered possibilities incomprehensible at initial glance. These possibilities were not limited to intelligent life forms foreign to them, but perhaps life outside their own peaked their interest the most.


    To study these new forms of life, ideal samples would be best. Ideal, in this context, would be outliers. And in the context of humans among other creatures such as BB who experience emotions, individuals who possessed the strongest emotions were best.


    In order to achieve this, they composed a series of tests which tested different aspects. These tests came in the form of places and things familiar to the intelligent life forms in question. Seeing that they had already constructed a Field Translator which had the ability to manipulate energy into any form, E=mc2 makes it such that the Fablas can reconstruct any environment they want by converting pure energy into physical matter. The Fablas, in this sense, were like immortal deities with unimaginable power.


    Through the use of wormholes, they could send these tests through while also providing a gateway to their own world. For humans and others, when these tests appeared, we dubbed them the anomaly, for a lack of better understanding. But the humans and others were not alone in this regard. The Fabla, operating from their own framework, made this portal under the assumption that those who seeked to venture through it had the means to do so and were curious truth seekers as well.


    A middle ground must be reached. Luckily for the Fablas, other forms of intelligent life possessed curiosity alongside emotions. So, even if the Light of Unbounded Fervor seemed to be a tool for some, for others, it seemed like a puzzle they wanted to solve simply because it was interesting. Those who saw it that way, while enduring the numerous tests, were the outliers the Fablas needed.


    By then, the Fablas and the individuals they warmly invited were holding a friendly conversation, hoping to understand one another and their separate worlds. A world where change is constant due to scars in our genetics, a reminder of the fierce competition prompting continuous evolution in the past to the unstoppable flow of time. A world where everything remained constant because there was never a need for change.


    To this end, new knowledge under the aura of Enlightenment had been produced between the intercourse of phanerons, of subjective realities clashing with one another. Though it was a foregone conclusion, obscured by the phaneron itself, that had led one to the other to begin with.¡±