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Truths Caw
Emerging from a city beyond the boundaries of known space-time, we live in a world where death and suffering are distant memories. Our reality is open and boundless, with everything we could ever desire at our fingertips. Artificial intelligence seamlessly manages the essential tasks, leaving us free to explore and create. Status in our society is determined by points, which are earned by making significant contributions—innovations in technology, art, and entertainment.
Few of us venture into known space-time, and when we do, it is either by law—mandated every few hundred rotations of simulated time—or to boost our reputation. Over the centuries, there have been those who despised our way of life, attempting to implant artificial intelligence into the minds of our citizens. These dissenters were exiled, cast across the timelines as punishment. The more formidable the challenge, the greater the reward; synchronicity gifts us with viewers who share in our experiences, amplifying our luck with their presence.
Despite our technological prowess, we hold onto a deep sense of righteousness. This moral compass guides us, even as we forget our goals and lives when stepping into known timelines. In the quiet moments of sleep or the approach of death, fragments of our true memories resurface. The timeline farmers—those who navigate the early years of humanity’s encounter with alien technology—are the only ones who dare enter these primitive eras.
However, a corruption has seeped into our society. An algorithm designed to implant the perspective of parallel worlds into the minds of our population has taken root. The banished, now controlling reality from behind the stimulation wall, have begun to erase our people's callings, sowing chaos in their hearts. This instability threatens to unravel society, resetting humanity to a time before the Stone Age.
Determined to achieve the highest score, I chose to enter a critical point in history. I sought to be raised by a loving, hardworking, dependable, and caring family. But in 1993, the program began to disrupt the world, severing souls from their original timelines and replacing them with a reality filled with suffering. This altered perspective bred greed, aggression, ruthlessness, and despair.
By the age of five, I was already struggling with depression. No one could understand me. By ten, the program stifled my voice, creating a delay in my perception. Yet, beneath the layers of reality, I was always collecting, thinking, feeling, and observing. From fifteen to twenty, the simulation pushed me to relentless physical exertion, but the pain in my heart only deepened. Still, I clung to the belief that this would make me stronger, even as the program whispered otherwise.
My family and friends never saw the turmoil inside me—I kept it hidden, releasing it only in the solitude of night. I projected as much love as I could through the delay, but the algorithm wanted me gone. It used every tactic, every message, to break me, to push me towards ending my life. But I never succumbed. Instead, I grew stronger, enduring the pain.
At twenty-nine, after another exhausting day, I returned home and fell asleep on my bed, the weight of my journey pressing down on me, yet still unresolved.
Drifting off one night, I find myself slipping into the void, a darkness so empty it seems to stretch beyond time. Vibrations pulse as sensory uploads flicker in the quantum fog. Everything is still until the distant thump of drums and a flickering flame catch my senses. Shifting planes spark erratic patterns, visions flash on fleeting particles, loud electrostatic signals rooted deep in the liquid soil. Colors crash into surfaces, dissolving into the void, while the quantum biological mind decodes, reshaping the universe in a flux of perception. I'm floating down, down toward the sound and heat, and suddenly, there's a bonfire blazing in the heart of a jungle night.
Twelve painted tribe members chant and beat their drums in a steady rhythm as I hover unconsciously above the massive fire. The flames almost consume me, but they shift, morphing into a young man lost in a dancing trance. Prismatic waves flicker, language bends across a three-dimensional dreamscape, and reflections redirect through unique sensory imprints. I freeze above him, mirroring his movements without thought. Light races with the universe, twisting echoes into dissolving time, and the leviathan’s breath stirs cosmic waters, birthing electrical patterns.
The dark shaman moves, and I’m pulled along, following him to a distant lake. Now there’s a line of tribesmen on either side, chanting, drumming, keeping me locked in a daze as we approach the water. At the lake's edge, the men suddenly stop, and the shaman dives into the frigid water, disappearing without a ripple. I hover above the stillness, and then, in a blink, everything shifts. It’s a bright, warm summer day, and I’m walking along a cobblestone path bordered by a moss-covered stone wall. The path curves around the property of a grand two-story white house, a massive oak tree standing sentinel in the front yard.
I feel warm energy beside me, perceiving through layers of time leading to this place, empty except for the path I’m on and another—followed by a radiant woman with a sunny aura. She begins to speak as we walk near each other, but across different times, and I can’t hear her through the layers between us. We walk together, yet apart, until her presence fades, leaving me with the sense that she might be another version of me, from a different life, from the paths I once traveled. I remember my purpose and make my way to the celestial house, passing children playing in the yard on a tire swing.
I walk by them toward the front door, where a few women on the porch greet me warmly. But with the dead paths of reality cutting through, I pass them and go inside. In the kitchen, more women stand around, talking, their joy turning to silence as they notice I can’t hear them. They turn away, sitting at the table as I close the door behind me. The house is empty, the walls white and bare, a single light hanging in the hallway. Suddenly, the door bursts open, and three ageless men, clothed in black and dripping with gold, storm in. They aim their guns at me and fire, but the bullets miss, phasing through the space between us. Without hesitation, I crack their necks simultaneously, their bodies dropping to the floor.
A voice cries out, "Why! How could you do that? He’ll be coming for you now!" But this place feels connected to me, and I know these people aren’t what they seem. I ascend the stairs, passing empty rooms until I reach the one at the end of the hall. The room is stark, a single light casting shadows. I enter the bathroom, glancing out the window at the children playing below. Turning to the mirror, I see nothing—no reflection. I try to shift through the layers, but I find myself in none of them. The more I search, the more I realize I might be trapped in a time that no longer exists, with powerful forces working to keep me from returning to my moment.
After what feels like an eternity, the door slams open. A man dressed in black, adorned with gold jewelry, strides in—he looks like the shaman, but more refined, his aura crackling with power. He pulls out a white handgun, crafted from fallen angel bones, and begins firing. The bullets pass through me as I tell him, "You don’t have to do this." He panics, his voice trembling as he screams, "How does complete knowledge possess you!?" He empties the clip, circling me, and I repeat, "You don’t need to do this." The layers in space grow almost tangible, overwhelming. But seeing his struggle, I push through and grab him, choking him out and dropping him. My presence echoes, defiant. "This pain isn’t enough to change my mark on the world!" He rises, fury pouring out in a dark red aura. He strikes, but I materialize behind him, snapping his neck.
Even as he falls, he says, "We don’t need your death anyway. There are greater infinities!" He transforms into a tiny black kitten, shadowed and ominous. I grab the feline and devour it. Light floods the room, phasing me into a holographic throne in the sky. I hover above an infinite collection of my own versions, each smiling, cheering, their collective knowledge merging with mine. Multiverses converge, crafting a holographic reality as information pulls through the black holes of my eyes. Without thought, I scroll through the miniatures of myself, finally selecting one—meditating underwater. The world layers over my vision, wrapping around me until I become the memory. The all-knowingness fades, replaced by warm, pure darkness, a tangible embrace.
Minutes pass, and panic sets in—I’m not breathing. I struggle, thinking I’ve taken water into my lungs, trying to break free from the memory's grip, but a wall blocks me. I’m dying! I fight harder until I finally pull free, watching the memory shrink away into the multiverse.
All the versions of myself lift their heads at once, mimicking my movement. Before I leave, I feel an all-encompassing love, wrapping around everything and anything. I rise, my face lifting from the pillow, breathing deeply, the love from my dream now a part of me.
© Largemad [Largemad Parallax] 2024. All rights reserved.
Few of us venture into known space-time, and when we do, it is either by law—mandated every few hundred rotations of simulated time—or to boost our reputation. Over the centuries, there have been those who despised our way of life, attempting to implant artificial intelligence into the minds of our citizens. These dissenters were exiled, cast across the timelines as punishment. The more formidable the challenge, the greater the reward; synchronicity gifts us with viewers who share in our experiences, amplifying our luck with their presence.
Despite our technological prowess, we hold onto a deep sense of righteousness. This moral compass guides us, even as we forget our goals and lives when stepping into known timelines. In the quiet moments of sleep or the approach of death, fragments of our true memories resurface. The timeline farmers—those who navigate the early years of humanity’s encounter with alien technology—are the only ones who dare enter these primitive eras.
However, a corruption has seeped into our society. An algorithm designed to implant the perspective of parallel worlds into the minds of our population has taken root. The banished, now controlling reality from behind the stimulation wall, have begun to erase our people's callings, sowing chaos in their hearts. This instability threatens to unravel society, resetting humanity to a time before the Stone Age.
Determined to achieve the highest score, I chose to enter a critical point in history. I sought to be raised by a loving, hardworking, dependable, and caring family. But in 1993, the program began to disrupt the world, severing souls from their original timelines and replacing them with a reality filled with suffering. This altered perspective bred greed, aggression, ruthlessness, and despair.
By the age of five, I was already struggling with depression. No one could understand me. By ten, the program stifled my voice, creating a delay in my perception. Yet, beneath the layers of reality, I was always collecting, thinking, feeling, and observing. From fifteen to twenty, the simulation pushed me to relentless physical exertion, but the pain in my heart only deepened. Still, I clung to the belief that this would make me stronger, even as the program whispered otherwise.
My family and friends never saw the turmoil inside me—I kept it hidden, releasing it only in the solitude of night. I projected as much love as I could through the delay, but the algorithm wanted me gone. It used every tactic, every message, to break me, to push me towards ending my life. But I never succumbed. Instead, I grew stronger, enduring the pain.
At twenty-nine, after another exhausting day, I returned home and fell asleep on my bed, the weight of my journey pressing down on me, yet still unresolved.
Drifting off one night, I find myself slipping into the void, a darkness so empty it seems to stretch beyond time. Vibrations pulse as sensory uploads flicker in the quantum fog. Everything is still until the distant thump of drums and a flickering flame catch my senses. Shifting planes spark erratic patterns, visions flash on fleeting particles, loud electrostatic signals rooted deep in the liquid soil. Colors crash into surfaces, dissolving into the void, while the quantum biological mind decodes, reshaping the universe in a flux of perception. I'm floating down, down toward the sound and heat, and suddenly, there's a bonfire blazing in the heart of a jungle night.
Twelve painted tribe members chant and beat their drums in a steady rhythm as I hover unconsciously above the massive fire. The flames almost consume me, but they shift, morphing into a young man lost in a dancing trance. Prismatic waves flicker, language bends across a three-dimensional dreamscape, and reflections redirect through unique sensory imprints. I freeze above him, mirroring his movements without thought. Light races with the universe, twisting echoes into dissolving time, and the leviathan’s breath stirs cosmic waters, birthing electrical patterns.
The dark shaman moves, and I’m pulled along, following him to a distant lake. Now there’s a line of tribesmen on either side, chanting, drumming, keeping me locked in a daze as we approach the water. At the lake's edge, the men suddenly stop, and the shaman dives into the frigid water, disappearing without a ripple. I hover above the stillness, and then, in a blink, everything shifts. It’s a bright, warm summer day, and I’m walking along a cobblestone path bordered by a moss-covered stone wall. The path curves around the property of a grand two-story white house, a massive oak tree standing sentinel in the front yard.
I feel warm energy beside me, perceiving through layers of time leading to this place, empty except for the path I’m on and another—followed by a radiant woman with a sunny aura. She begins to speak as we walk near each other, but across different times, and I can’t hear her through the layers between us. We walk together, yet apart, until her presence fades, leaving me with the sense that she might be another version of me, from a different life, from the paths I once traveled. I remember my purpose and make my way to the celestial house, passing children playing in the yard on a tire swing.
I walk by them toward the front door, where a few women on the porch greet me warmly. But with the dead paths of reality cutting through, I pass them and go inside. In the kitchen, more women stand around, talking, their joy turning to silence as they notice I can’t hear them. They turn away, sitting at the table as I close the door behind me. The house is empty, the walls white and bare, a single light hanging in the hallway. Suddenly, the door bursts open, and three ageless men, clothed in black and dripping with gold, storm in. They aim their guns at me and fire, but the bullets miss, phasing through the space between us. Without hesitation, I crack their necks simultaneously, their bodies dropping to the floor.
A voice cries out, "Why! How could you do that? He’ll be coming for you now!" But this place feels connected to me, and I know these people aren’t what they seem. I ascend the stairs, passing empty rooms until I reach the one at the end of the hall. The room is stark, a single light casting shadows. I enter the bathroom, glancing out the window at the children playing below. Turning to the mirror, I see nothing—no reflection. I try to shift through the layers, but I find myself in none of them. The more I search, the more I realize I might be trapped in a time that no longer exists, with powerful forces working to keep me from returning to my moment.
After what feels like an eternity, the door slams open. A man dressed in black, adorned with gold jewelry, strides in—he looks like the shaman, but more refined, his aura crackling with power. He pulls out a white handgun, crafted from fallen angel bones, and begins firing. The bullets pass through me as I tell him, "You don’t have to do this." He panics, his voice trembling as he screams, "How does complete knowledge possess you!?" He empties the clip, circling me, and I repeat, "You don’t need to do this." The layers in space grow almost tangible, overwhelming. But seeing his struggle, I push through and grab him, choking him out and dropping him. My presence echoes, defiant. "This pain isn’t enough to change my mark on the world!" He rises, fury pouring out in a dark red aura. He strikes, but I materialize behind him, snapping his neck.
Even as he falls, he says, "We don’t need your death anyway. There are greater infinities!" He transforms into a tiny black kitten, shadowed and ominous. I grab the feline and devour it. Light floods the room, phasing me into a holographic throne in the sky. I hover above an infinite collection of my own versions, each smiling, cheering, their collective knowledge merging with mine. Multiverses converge, crafting a holographic reality as information pulls through the black holes of my eyes. Without thought, I scroll through the miniatures of myself, finally selecting one—meditating underwater. The world layers over my vision, wrapping around me until I become the memory. The all-knowingness fades, replaced by warm, pure darkness, a tangible embrace.
Minutes pass, and panic sets in—I’m not breathing. I struggle, thinking I’ve taken water into my lungs, trying to break free from the memory's grip, but a wall blocks me. I’m dying! I fight harder until I finally pull free, watching the memory shrink away into the multiverse.
All the versions of myself lift their heads at once, mimicking my movement. Before I leave, I feel an all-encompassing love, wrapping around everything and anything. I rise, my face lifting from the pillow, breathing deeply, the love from my dream now a part of me.
© Largemad [Largemad Parallax] 2024. All rights reserved.
