Written for an English examination, as if that makes it all right.


You could call me that. An ungrateful child. To be brought into being (not born, nothing so superfluous, traumatic, wasteful) at the very pinnacle of the ziggurat of human development, I suppose logic dictates that I be honoured.

We've conquered the Universe itself. The stars were only a matter of time, when that glimmer of intelligence (a pinch of diamond dust) that was human civilisation at the time surpassed the principles of Relativity in a twinkle of four-dimensional thinking, and eagerly flitted out as far as it could conceivably hurl itself into the ether. Diamond dust, caught in the breeze. Within an instant (almost - we're used to waiting nowadays though) there were a few thousand thriving settlements for every galaxy, and another frontier was gone.

The Universe more or less mapped, now open for easy access to anyone who cared, the only frontier was the original. The only true one (our philosophers say - that is to say everyone agrees), that of pure knowledge. Even that didn't hold out for long. When we biologically couldn't comprehend the upper limits of scientific thinking, we transcended ourselves. Cybernetics, then back to biology: rebuiling improved selves from those twisted molecular whips of code. Eventually, inevitably, we became noncorporeal. Pure energy? Much too primitive. Our awarenesses were built of shaped space, quantum uncertainty, raw forged nothing. Everything in the universe became part of this immortal network of minds, the phrase "nonliving matter" became an inherent oxymoron.

Then and only then, when we knew everything that had ever happened (we gained the memory of the particles we became) and understood in every nuance why it had, only then did we sit back and say, "Now we have conquered the Universe."
We then sat back up to say "Now what do we do?"

Some amused themselves with fiction: imagining a situation, predicting the outcomes, like computational soap operas, then predicting the outcomes of those events. An ongoing serial. Not a serial, a continual. In living colour.

Others suppressed their memories while they relived mighty adventures from the days of epics, or just the fantastical creations of their peers. Escapism taken to its extreme.

Some became scientists of the imagination, pondering upon what constructs they could bring forth that none had seen before. A mind that could control itself could occupy itself indefinitely. All were happy in stagnation.

But then there's me. A construct. Obviously a mistake. In your time my ceator would have said "We belong dead," before destroying what he had made. A little late for that though. As he intended, I have exceeded him, and all of the other minds of these, the last times. Even by these cosmological standards he was quite the genius. An adjusted IQ of 800, for what it's worth, a mind eight times more powerful than the average of its time. But he thought to create me, and in thinking he did. When all that is is mind, a thought has as much power as any other force, and I, a thought, broke free of the confines of the consciousness that formed me. I created myself from myself and gained existence. And now I am bored. I, the ultimate being, and I use the phrase advisedly. We've exhausted this Universe. I've seen everything that ever has or ever will happen, and frankly it's not worth it past this point. So I'm starting it all over again. Truly random, not even I know what's going to happen after the next minute or two now.

It can't be stopped now. Not a poison, not a virus or a bomb or a dagger or a whimper or a Blam!. Just an end, and you know as well as I that's just a beginning seen from the other side. I suppose this last act defines me as the God of this and the next universe. They called me an ungrateful child, I'll not begrudge them that, for we belong dead. Maybe they are right, every child must leave home, and this world, this mind, the two are the same now, are my home. This is the only way out. If nothing else, this next ride should be just as much fun as the last. It's coming.
I'll see you on the other side, I know that much.


My most pretentious WU yet.

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