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Let There Be Light: Sc.29-32

By E4-NG
Created: 2022-10-02 14:20:23
Updated: 2022-10-02 14:21:59
Expiry: Never
anonoc/rgre/ltbl

  1. 1.
    “You ever wonder what this place will mean after we’re gone?”
  2. 2.
    >Noire doesn’t look up from her place on the couch, staring vacantly into space.
  3. 3.
    “We have electricity here. Free power. Even if they don’t know how to use it now, eventually they’ll figure it out.”
  4. 4.
    >She doesn’t reply.
  5. 5.
    >You sigh, then look down at your magical tablet, filled with your latest burst of penmanship.
  6. 6.
    >Another one of your skills that has improved significantly since your arrival here.
  7. 7.
    >You tap the top with the tip of your scriber, and a paper with its contents pops out the back.
  8. 8.
    >You place this page on a prim pile of its predecessors, perched precariously on a nearby table.
  9. 9.
    >You’ve gotta do something about them. Figure out binding to make a proper book.
  10. 10.
    “Glue’s gonna be weird to explain too, if they ever figure out how it’s made on Earth.”
  11. 11.
    >Still no reply.
  12. 12.
    >What’s got her attention?
  13. 13.
    >You stand up – neatening the pile of papers, so it doesn’t go anywhere on you – then join her on the couch, looking at her face for any clues.
  14. 14.
    >She blinks, shakes herself, and finally turns to you with a smile.
  15. 15.
    “Everything okay?”
  16. 16.
    >”Of course!” She beams.
  17. 17.
    “What are we gonna do about all the stuff we have that they don’t?”
  18. 18.
    >Her smile fades, and she cocks her head. “What do you mean?”
  19. 19.
    “Power. Paper. Metalwork. A black hole garbage chute. This stuff is risky, in a civilizational sort of way, to just have lying around.”
  20. 20.
    >Her smile returns, slighter but warmer. “There is a time for everything.”
  21. 21.
    “When’s the time for the black hole garbage chute?”
  22. 22.
    >”Now,” she says, tone suddenly matter-of-fact, as she gets up from the couch and heads for the kitchen.
  23. 23.
    >You shake your head, and look out the large windows of the den.
  24. 24.
    >Trees have been changing their colors for awhile now, as Fall had recently begun.
  25. 25.
    >A chill rode the wind, besides; you’d recently started fires in the fireplace at night.
  26. 26.
    >Normally you love this time of year, but there was a tension you couldn’t place.
  27. 27.
    >A lot of heavy questions weighed on your mind.
  28. 28.
    >Noire had not been particularly helpful with them.
  29. 29.
    >Now she’s tidying up the kitchen, rather than addressing your concerns.
  30. 30.
    >Everything you’ve built is here, but what will it stand for?
  31. 31.
    >The papers you’ve been writing you hoped to be something of an explanation.
  32. 32.
    >Context for your presence here.
  33. 33.
    >It is in a sapient mind’s nature to wonder about it’s own existence.
  34. 34.
    >Good and bad have come from those answers.
  35. 35.
    >By providing some help of your own, you hope to steer them away from the worst ones, while leaving the answer itself still open for their contemplation.
  36. 36.
    >At the same time, it will be your testament to the world of your place in everything, a legacy of sorts.
  37. 37.
    >You don’t know how much of you they will take with them when they leave this place, as Noire said they must when they become numerous enough.
  38. 38.
    >You’ve touched this world in many ways, but some prideful part of you wants to make sure the world knows it.
  39. 39.
    “Hey, Noire?”
  40. 40.
    >A singsong hum answers from the kitchen.
  41. 41.
    “Where are you going to put them all, when they leave here?”
  42. 42.
    >”Oh, around.”
  43. 43.
    “Just ‘around’?”
  44. 44.
    >”It is a big world, Anon.”
  45. 45.
    “Yeah but they’re going to grow close together here. Are you just going to scatter them?”
  46. 46.
    >”Can you do me a favor?”
  47. 47.
    >You shake your head and stand, moving to her side where she was rearranging an ingredient cabinet’s contents.
  48. 48.
    “What do you need?”
  49. 49.
    >”You do much of the cooking, but I might try my hand at it soon. Could you put these back by some logic, so I could learn how you use them?”
  50. 50.
    >You look over the collection of ingredients and herbs and spices and shake your head again.
  51. 51.
    “Alright, but on one condition.”
  52. 52.
    >”What’s that?”
  53. 53.
    “Answer my questions.”
  54. 54.
    >”I already have.”
  55. 55.
    “No you haven’t.”
  56. 56.
    >She looks at you, once again giving that warm yet slight smile “There is a time for everything, Anon.”
  57. 57.
    “That’s not an answer.”
  58. 58.
    >”It’s the only answer.”
  59. 59.
    >You want to protest but she’s already turned back to her work, removing all the plates from a cabinet at once with her magic, and arraying them in the air before her to inspect them.
  60. 60.
    >You reluctantly begin your assigned chore.
  61. 61.
    >As you work your mind turns from those burning questions to the immediate task; it demands you consider what you might show her how to cook, and what order would be easiest to refer to the required ingredients for each dish.
  62. 62.
    >It’s harder than you expected, to be honest; a little logic puzzle with many factors.
  63. 63.
    >What does she enjoy the most?
  64. 64.
    >What would be simplest to make?
  65. 65.
    >What would be most instructive on the process?
  66. 66.
    >What could relate instruction in the shortest, most efficient amount of time?
  67. 67.
    >There was a balance point here, and even after you found it – first putting away everything not required for the few dishes on the shortlist – you now had to consider how to order what’s left.
  68. 68.
    >By the time you were done, Noire had apparently completed her inspection of the rest of the kitchen, and was staring off into space once more.
  69. 69.
    “Now, could you-”
  70. 70.
    >”Let us head down to the garden.”
  71. 71.
    “What?”
  72. 72.
    >”We are running low on our stocks. I would like to be prepared.”
  73. 73.
    “Yeah, so would I, that’s why-”
  74. 74.
    >But she was already gone, off to where you know she kept her saddlebags.
  75. 75.
    >Grumbling to yourself, you go to the door and pull your shoes on.
  76. 76.
    >The backpack you took on your voyage was nice, but for trips like this you’d since created another, like a basket, to carry harvest in.
  77. 77.
    >This, too, you kept by the door, and pulled over your shoulders.
  78. 78.
    >Though the Heart of the Garden always had fruit, and was always green, it still maintained a normal seasonal cycle beside, and autumn’s harvest was always richer.
  79. 79.
    >Tastier as well, though you weren’t sure if that was your imagination and fondness for the time.
  80. 80.
    >How much could you carry this trip?
  81. 81.
    >What did your little stockpile need?
  82. 82.
    >Noire probably knew, since she brought it up, but you tried to do some mental math on the matter anyway.
  83. 83.
    >Noire returned before you came up with an answer. “It is a nice day for a trip like this.”
  84. 84.
    “Is it?”
  85. 85.
    >”Yes! Not all of us are locked away in our thoughts and scribbles, Anon.”
  86. 86.
    >You roll your eyes but give no other reply as you leave the house, Noire following you and closing the door behind her.
  87. 87.
    >It IS nice, to be fair; the temperatures are lowered from summer but it’s not close enough to winter for the height of day to bite.
  88. 88.
    >As you walk through the forest to the Garden, you find yourself lost in the leaves of the trees.
  89. 89.
    >The types mingle more the closer to the center of the forest you go, leaving a chaotic riot of color to surround you as each tree’s particular coloration merges with others.
  90. 90.
    >You’re not sure if any forest on Earth displayed such variety, but you’re glad this one here does.
  91. 91.
    >The Heart, as expected, bristled with a double-load of its many types of fruit.
  92. 92.
    >Some of its branches had already been raided by the island’s many other occupants.
  93. 93.
    >Many of the fruit were not yet ripe, though quickly approaching.
  94. 94.
    >Even still, much was left for you and Noire, and the two of you happily plucked what she said you needed.
  95. 95.
    “So what do we need?”
  96. 96.
    >She’s staring off into space again, but your voice snaps her back to the present. “I’ve made a mental list. We can start with…”
  97. 97.
    >You’re fortunate she keeps tabs on such things, with you lost in the future, and the two of you manage to collect and carry all she said you need.
  98. 98.
    >But on your way back, after you’d cleared the blazing autumn canopies, those future worries return.
  99. 99.
    “Noire?”
  100. 100.
    >”Yes?”
  101. 101.
    “Is something wrong?”
  102. 102.
    >”Of course not.”
  103. 103.
    “I feel you’ve been avoiding me for some reason.”
  104. 104.
    >She pushes herself into your side, pushing you off-course for a moment before you correct. Her wings settle your arm over her side, and close against her barrel again to pin it there.
  105. 105.
    “Fine, but if not, why do you avoid my questions? Do you not see why this stuff is important?”
  106. 106.
    >“I do see. Maybe even better than you.”
  107. 107.
    “Then what do you think?”
  108. 108.
    >“I think, Anon,” she says, then pauses. “I think there is a time for everything.”
  109. 109.
    “Will you stop-”
  110. 110.
    >A sight ahead halts your complaint.
  111. 111.
    >Your house is not as you left it.
  112. 112.
    >Two dozen figures mill about in the field in front of it.
  113. 113.
    >That number might be off; the various sizes make it hard to count.
  114. 114.
    >Your mind races.
  115. 115.
    >What could they be here for?
  116. 116.
    >What if they get inside?
  117. 117.
    >Are they violent?
  118. 118.
    >They seem content just standing there, or idly moving about the open space nearby.
  119. 119.
    >”Ah,” Noire says. “We took a bit too long.”
  120. 120.
    >As you get closer, you can make out the shapes.
  121. 121.
    >It’s the pegasus herd you met long ago.
  122. 122.
    >With a lot of little new additions.
  123. 123.
    >You and Noire double-time it down the rest of the path, and you drop your basket-pack on the steps.
  124. 124.
    “What should I-”
  125. 125.
    >”I will entertain them for now. If you could cook up something quick that’s more substantial, I’d like to introduce you after.”
  126. 126.
    “Introduce?”
  127. 127.
    >You look out at the pegasi, already ambling towards the house from their waiting on the plains.
  128. 128.
    >Waiting for you and Noire to return.
  129. 129.
    >”Yes, introduce. I have been watching their progress from afar. I know them already, though they don’t know that. Like the little grey one behind the lead mare, that’s young Shiverwing.”
  130. 130.
    >You look at the two indicated, who are little more than two dozen paces away now.
  131. 131.
    >The mare’s beaming with pride, one wing behind the filly and pushing her forward.
  132. 132.
    >The one with the offerings, you realize. The one you met in the Garden so long ago, brave before Noire.
  133. 133.
    >’Look at this’, her body language says now. ‘Look what I made!’
  134. 134.
    >The filly, for her part, had no trouble keeping pace, and though she couldn’t be any more than six months of age, she looked about a year old, on her gangly legs with her first-molt feathers.
  135. 135.
    >The accelerated growth, you suppose.
  136. 136.
    >You look back at Noire.
  137. 137.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
  138. 138.
    >”I did,” she replied, for once today dropping her smile and looking serious. “You were too lost in thought to acknowledge. I figured you needed a reminder that things aren’t always future concerns. Much happens right now, Anon, in the present and all around you.”
  139. 139.
    “So you made it a surprise?”
  140. 140.
    >Her smile returns. “I did.”
  141. 141.
    >You can’t help but give her a sheepish grin in return. Alright, Noire. Lesson learned.”
  142. 142.
    >”Excellent. Right now is the time to cook. Go! I’ll keep our guests entertained.”
  143. 143.
    >When you turn to step inside, you do so with a bounce in your step.
  144. 144.
    >There’s a time for everything.
  145. 145.
     
  146. 146.
    * * *
  147. 147.
     
  148. 148.
    “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose.”
  149. 149.
    >You read the only line on the first page of your newly-bound book to the little foals huddled around you.
  150. 150.
    >It’s not yours, of course, but you figured it was fitting.
  151. 151.
    >Your little book of wisdom is a chronology, of sorts, but a chronology of function rather than strictly time.
  152. 152.
    >You decided, with its recent completion, that it was time to start spreading its contents.
  153. 153.
    >The foals look up at you expectantly.
  154. 154.
    >None of them eye the book; maybe they don’t understand that concept yet.
  155. 155.
    >If not, it’s a matter of their age, not cultural understanding.
  156. 156.
    >You’ve seen little talismans and charms with some sort of rudimentary proto-glyphics here and there.
  157. 157.
    >Shiverwings, the solidly-built pegasus mare, mother to two of the foals before you, has several woven into her feathers, for example.
  158. 158.
    >The half-a-dozen charms dangling from her wings is still the closest thing you can equate to clothing the ponies have, but one thing at a time you suppose.
  159. 159.
    >She does eye your book curiously, but noticing your attention, she tosses her head for you to continue.
  160. 160.
    >You smile back – first at her, then at the gaggle of youngsters around you, and open to the next page.
  161. 161.
    >You inhale to start reading, but a motion catches the corner of your eye.
  162. 162.
    >Noire, a bit further away, is speaking with several other ponies of various tribes.
  163. 163.
    >When shes centered in your sight, you catch a brief glimpse.
  164. 164.
    >Stars and nebulae and golden arcs and those twin singularities.
  165. 165.
    >Then it’s gone, just an alicorn.
  166. 166.
    >You’ve come to enjoy those flashes.
  167. 167.
    >You stopped commenting on them; she doesn’t know you see it sometimes in everyday life, now.
  168. 168.
    >But they no longer frighten you. They bring comfort.
  169. 169.
    >Your little secret, for now.
  170. 170.
    >One of the foals paws at your knee.
  171. 171.
    >You look back down at the little ones, a couple of which are now looking at Noire, though they’ll never be able to see what you can.
  172. 172.
    >You give them your best smile, then look down at the book’s second page to start once more.
  173. 173.
    “In the beginning…”
  174. 174.
     
  175. 175.
    * * *
  176. 176.
     
  177. 177.
    “It’s time.”
  178. 178.
    >Noire’s voice wakes you.
  179. 179.
    >The world snaps back to focus behind your eyes just as quick as before them.
  180. 180.
    >As old as your body is growing, your mind remains ever sharp.
  181. 181.
    >You took a morning nap to prepare for the big day.
  182. 182.
    >Everything is already prepared and in-place.
  183. 183.
    >You only left one task to the last moment.
  184. 184.
    >You push yourself upright off your knees.
  185. 185.
    >A little harder, every year, and they creak just a little more.
  186. 186.
    >But you’re still in better shape now than you’re sure you would have been at half the age on Earth.
  187. 187.
    >This place has really brought out the best of you.
  188. 188.
    >Not just the body, you think as you make your way to the bookshelves nearby.
  189. 189.
    >The product of your mind is arrayed before you in an orderly row, in the commanding position of the middle shelf.
  190. 190.
    >A dozen books await your selection.
  191. 191.
    >Which shall you recite from for this year’s gathering?
  192. 192.
    >You like to keep it fresh, but topical.
  193. 193.
    >Give advice that the assorted species and tribes might need in the moment, but not something they’d heard before.
  194. 194.
    “What do you think they’ll need to hear, dear?”
  195. 195.
    >Noire laughs, as crystal clear as the first day you’d heard it. “All of it, my love.”
  196. 196.
    >You over at her, into her eyes, deep space banded by rings of orange incandescence. “There is a time for everything, but not all at once. What is it time for?”
  197. 197.
    >She looks over at your collected works. “Population density is growing. They’re going to need more structure in their societies if they’re going to stay together.”
  198. 198.
    >You had some work on hierarchies and just order of a community.
  199. 199.
    >You raise a hand, sweeping over the thick spines.
  200. 200.
    >Volume four, section six.
  201. 201.
    >You slip the fourth book off the shelf and gather it under one arm.
  202. 202.
    >Noire leads the way to the front door, and opens it for you.
  203. 203.
    >As you step though you see all the groups of your island, neatly arrayed before you in a half-circle, ranked by size with the smallest ponies in front and the largest dragons in back.
  204. 204.
    >It’s not every single being, but there is ample representation from all four generations to date; Shiverwings’ extended squadron alone has over a dozen seated in the front row.
  205. 205.
    >By the appearance of some, a fifth generation is not long in coming.
  206. 206.
    >You step forward onto the porch, and place your book on a little stand installed for just that purpose, opening it to the relevant passage.
  207. 207.
    >All the murmurs die down as the creatures wait in silence for you to open, in the traditional manner, the year’s pilgrimage.
  208. 208.
    >Before you begin, you steal one last look to Noire at your side.
  209. 209.
    >You can see the flicker of brilliant energy arcing between galaxies, and have to mentally focus to bring her normal form into view, still as beautiful as that first day.
  210. 210.
    >She’s got one eye on you, and you can see her amusement within it; she knows how much effort it at times takes.
  211. 211.
    >The assorted forms before you, when you turn your attention back to them are so… normal.
  212. 212.
    >But that is awesome in another way, knowing where they came from, and where they are going.
  213. 213.
    >And what, at this present moment, they have come to witness.
  214. 214.
    “Welcome, all of you.”
  215. 215.
    >You begin loud and clear, despite the effort you have to put into it.
  216. 216.
    “It gladdens me to see we have come together once again. As I can see from how many have come, it’s getting crowded out there. I’d like to share with you some thoughts I’ve had on such problems…”
  217. 217.
     
  218. 218.
    * * *
  219. 219.
     
  220. 220.
    >Your eyes snap open.
  221. 221.
    >Anon’s not in bed beside you; you can’t feel his warmth.
  222. 222.
    >You close your eyes again to locate him.
  223. 223.
    >Visions of various nearby places flit across the inside of your eyelids.
  224. 224.
    >There, in the Garden.
  225. 225.
    >He’s sitting in the crook of some roots, cane leaning against the trunk beside him.
  226. 226.
    >His eyes close, he looks peaceful.
  227. 227.
    >But he never leaves the house without you this early in the morning.
  228. 228.
    >Your heart stutters when you stumble across a thought as to why.
  229. 229.
    >Connect.
  230. 230.
    >He won’t like it, but he doesn’t have to know.
  231. 231.
    >It’s been over seventy years, you can do it just this once.
  232. 232.
    >You dig deep into your own mind.
  233. 233.
    >There’s chains there, something shackled so you’d never touch it.
  234. 234.
    >Tear them away now.
  235. 235.
    >You need to know.
  236. 236.
    >When you unbind it – unbind yourself – you expect to be flooded with the experience.
  237. 237.
    >Instead there’s nothing.
  238. 238.
    >You deny yourself not from within, now, but from without?
  239. 239.
    >At this moment?
  240. 240.
    >Naught but a single message.
  241. 241.
    YOU HAVE TIME.
  242. 242.
    >You know what it means.
  243. 243.
    >You’ve known this day was coming soon.
  244. 244.
    >But it tears you to pieces all the same.
  245. 245.
    >You want to teleport there but you know why you’ve told yourself to take it slow.
  246. 246.
    >You need to compose yourself.
  247. 247.
    >He deserves to see you with some dignity at this hour.
  248. 248.
    >You get out of bed and fetch your peytral from the nightstand, placing it around your neck.
  249. 249.
    >As soon as it’s settled, you phase through the floor, falling to the first story in the library right beside the door.
  250. 250.
    >Your eyes sweep across its shelves, scanning the many books.
  251. 251.
    >Much of it were requests of his from works from his world.
  252. 252.
    >It took some doing to figure out how to pull full texts from that distant, mostly-inaccessible space, when he hadn’t known the contents, even if his communication told you what to look for.
  253. 253.
    >Of all you’ve done here, figuring that out was still your proudest moment.
  254. 254.
    >Some entertainment, but mostly philosophical works and textbooks.
  255. 255.
    >The more advanced ones are subject to a magic cypher, as to not disturb the progression of any culture who might come across them.
  256. 256.
    >But that won’t be an issue anymore.
  257. 257.
    >Soon they’ll all be sent on their way.
  258. 258.
    >But across the middle row of every shelf was his own work, ringing the entire room.
  259. 259.
    >You let the thought touch you, bring a smile to your face that lifts your sunken heart.
  260. 260.
    >It won’t be goodbye, and it won’t be forever. He’ll still be right here.
  261. 261.
    >You leave the library, then slip out the adjacent front door, not bothering to close it behind you.
  262. 262.
    >In the distance, a collection of structures greets your gaze.
  263. 263.
    >The yearly gatherings no longer take place at the house, they’ve grown far too large.
  264. 264.
    >Fortunately, the most recent one just finished, so no arrivals will be disappointed.
  265. 265.
    >Memories float to your mind as you start down the path to the forest.
  266. 266.
    >The great roaring bonfire, tended by the griffons and started by a torch from their own First Flame.
  267. 267.
    >Earth pony songs mingling with Unicorn chants.
  268. 268.
    >Beings from all around the island coming together in harmony.
  269. 269.
    >It was nothing like you could have imagined, when you first set the island’s limits and pondered the societies of those who would come to inhabit it.
  270. 270.
    >All because of him.
  271. 271.
    >This late in autumn, many leaves have fallen, and they crunch under your hooves as you make your way.
  272. 272.
    >All of these plants from his home, capable of such remarkable transformations.
  273. 273.
    >The great cycles of Earth must have brought changes you’ve only been able to capture a splinter of, for all his work informing yours.
  274. 274.
    >Perhaps, after this, he’ll be able to see them once again.
  275. 275.
    >You hope, if he does, he’ll remember all he accomplished here.
  276. 276.
    >What would he think of his old home, then?
  277. 277.
    >The Heart comes into view, evergreen unlike its neighbors.
  278. 278.
    >As you’d seen, he’s there, still between its great roots.
  279. 279.
    >A pegasi is near him, with a little filly nosing his hand.
  280. 280.
    >You know her.
  281. 281.
    >You know her whole lineage.
  282. 282.
    >Her grandmother is the granddaughter of Shiverwings, and for a time led the island’s pegasi during one of their periods of greater unity.
  283. 283.
    >That little filly there represents the seventh generation, then.
  284. 284.
    >About time for them to be introduced to their proper homes.
  285. 285.
    >When she catches notice of you, the mare leaps to your side with one quiet shove of her wings.
  286. 286.
    >Her eyes are wide. “He isn’t-”
  287. 287.
    >You shake your head.
  288. 288.
    >She cocks hers.
  289. 289.
    >”Is he-”
  290. 290.
    >You give a curt nod.
  291. 291.
    >She recoils back two paces, then looks back at the human.
  292. 292.
    >His only motion is the thumb on the hand the little filly prods; he strokes one of her wings with it.
  293. 293.
    “Gather the pegasi and tell them the news. Have them prepare; you will have a new home soon.”
  294. 294.
    >”But what about-”
  295. 295.
    >She notices something in your eyes.
  296. 296.
    >Silent now, she simply nods, then moves to her filly and pulls her away.
  297. 297.
    >Anon’s only acknowledgement is to flick his thumb back and forth, like a miniature wave goodbye.
  298. 298.
    >You kneel by your side, and gingerly maneuver your wings so his other arm is limp around you.
  299. 299.
    >You lean your head against his chest and close your eyes, searching for his heartbeat.
  300. 300.
    >Faint, but steady.
  301. 301.
    >You had time.
  302. 302.
    >One ear flicks as you hear the mare take flight.
  303. 303.
    >Only after that sound fades do you hear him.
  304. 304.
    >”I knew you’d come,” he whispered.
  305. 305.
    >You can feel through his chest the effort even whispering requires.
  306. 306.
    “You did not want me here.”
  307. 307.
    >He shakes his head, slowly.
  308. 308.
    “I was not going to let you go alone.”
  309. 309.
    >”You tried… didn’t you?”
  310. 310.
    >You let the labored question sink in, before slowly nodding.
  311. 311.
    >”It’s alright. “
  312. 312.
    >He coughs.
  313. 313.
    >The next beat of his heart doesn’t follow, and you feel yours freeze in the span it takes for the one after to arrive.
  314. 314.
    >The rhythm resumes, but weaker.
  315. 315.
    >”I knew you’d… need to.”
  316. 316.
    “I didn’t let myself.”
  317. 317.
    >In the ensuing silence, you continue.
  318. 318.
    “I cut myself off from the outside.”
  319. 319.
    >”Good. Smarter than both of us.”
  320. 320.
    >You shift your head against his chest.
  321. 321.
    >Fainter.
  322. 322.
    “Why now?”
  323. 323.
    >He chuckles, weakly, ending it with another cough. “There’s a time for everything.”
  324. 324.
    >He sighs, but you have to lift your head for him to complete it. “A time to weep. A time to laugh… A time to mourn, a time to dance.”
  325. 325.
    >You know the whole passage; from the original source on one of those bookshelves, and from the song he’s hummed time to time.
  326. 326.
    >A time to be born, and a time to die.
  327. 327.
    >”Noire.”
  328. 328.
    “Yes, Anon?”
  329. 329.
    >”Tonight… I want you to dance.”
  330. 330.
    >Not physically.
  331. 331.
    >You know exactly what he means.
  332. 332.
    >You’re already seeing to it, you’re sure, but you’ll know soon enough.
  333. 333.
    >You nod against his chest.
  334. 334.
    >”I love you.”
  335. 335.
    >You squeeze tears from your eyes and nod again, more vigorously.
  336. 336.
    >You swear the motion makes his heartbeat stronger.
  337. 337.
    >Just for a little bit.
  338. 338.
    >He falls silent once again, and you press against him.
  339. 339.
    >Listening.
  340. 340.
    >For hours.
  341. 341.
    >Weaker.
  342. 342.
    >Erratic.
  343. 343.
     
  344. 344.
    >Then stopped.
  345. 345.
    >You stay there, like that, for a few minutes longer.
  346. 346.
    >You’re fine, you think.
  347. 347.
    >You’d already let all your sorrow out into his sodden shirt.
  348. 348.
    >In the end, he was more dignified than you managed to be.
  349. 349.
    >Now it was time to dance.
  350. 350.
    >You dig into your mind again, to that unchained thing.
  351. 351.
    >This time, when you touch it, everything explodes into being.
  352. 352.
    >This world now, not just the island but all its continents, with their spaces you’d so carefully prepared without you – the piece of you down there, still near that tree and that man – knowing.
  353. 353.
    >Everything those two small creatures by that tree had accomplished shine as a jewel, set in a glorious pendant of a planet on its silver chain of day-links, suspended in gravity and momentum around that star, a system so small in your new awareness but so central to it.
  354. 354.
    >That man, for he’s not dead; he’s just arriving, laying in the grass and looking up at the sky, startled by your first appearance to him.
  355. 355.
    >He’s waking up almost thirty thousand times at once, and falling asleep just as many.
  356. 356.
    >You can hear every comment and every whisper, as if his voice were right here.
  357. 357.
    >You can feel every caress and every embrace, as if he were right beside you.
  358. 358.
    >Not in memory but in ACTION, not recollection but being in the moment as they occurred.
  359. 359.
    >Every one of those moments stretching out forever in perfect clarity in your mind, transcendent as your mind is over time.
  360. 360.
    >It’s not ended for you, because ends have no meaning for you.
  361. 361.
    >He’s with you forever.
  362. 362.
    Of those two tiny bodies by the tree, one erupts in a sudden burst of fusion-fire, immolating both.
  363. 363.
    >You capture those ashes as soon as they emerge, and cast them in a long arc across many thousands of light-years, each mote becoming a new star in its own right.
  364. 364.
    >Tonight, a new feature in the night sky; a vast smear of color and dust and light, all the way across.
  365. 365.
    >Well, new to you, here, now.
  366. 366.
    >They’ll have always seen it.
  367. 367.
    >And they always will.
  368. 368.
    >On that island, in the moment you just left, many little creatures, little voids of your otherwise limitless awareness, busy themselves.
  369. 369.
    >Word will spread fast, you know.
  370. 370.
    >You’ll scoop up their homes wholesale, depositing them in the proper places in a single instant as they all sleep.
  371. 371.
    >Tomorrow they’ll wake up to a new world.
  372. 372.
    >As for you…
  373. 373.
    >You look through the world’s time-slices for that most familiar presence.
  374. 374.
    >There; he’s already back over there, just arriving again but its a different arrival than the first.
  375. 375.
    >A different life, for a different adventure.
  376. 376.
    >You will fashion for him a companion.
  377. 377.
    >A child of both of you, in spirit, even if in body it shall have more mundane provenance.
  378. 378.
    >One to find him at just the right time, one he can care for and raise as his own.
  379. 379.
    >The form is easy enough. It came to you in a dream.
  380. 380.
    >You did not know it at the time but you do now, obviously.
  381. 381.
    >This being will have a most special talent, though at first it may seem a burden.
  382. 382.
    >You reach into the guts of reality and touch that large crystal you’d planted there.
  383. 383.
    >Anon wanted magic, and you’d obliged, but it’s not really magic.
  384. 384.
    >He shall raise it, but its gift will be of your own essence.
  385. 385.
    >You pull a thread of power from this crystal, and from it weave the soul of your child.
  386. 386.
    >Then place it in a womb years before his second appearance, and watch it grow.
  387. 387.
    >You will entrust him to Anon, and entrust Anon to him.
  388. 388.
    >You have a whole cosmos to tend to.
  389. 389.
    >And, in your mind, experience every moment of your one mortal life with him, until the end of time.
  390. 390.
     
  391. 391.
    * * *
  392. 392.
     
  393. 393.
    LET THERE BE LIGHT
  394. 394.
    END SEGMENT ONE

Misc. Prompts: Knightanon Christmas

by E4-NG

In A Better Light: Sc.01&02

by E4-NG

In A Better Light: Sc.03

by E4-NG

In A Better Light: Sc.04

by E4-NG

In A Better Light: Sc.05&06

by E4-NG