ACT II of III: Behemoth in Exalt
Part XII: Ziggurat
(From Look At What You’ve Done)
In the beginning, there was nothing. Then, there was everything all the time. And we are here to watch. A water balloon of a new reality, from a center point of impact instantly spread across the vacuum where we once existed, the space our universe used to fill.
Chaos reigns supreme with pure Potential his bride, new physics take shape and variances begin, decisions made for the first time when life springs from a confluence of metallic dust and single-cell bacterium flung together in the cosmic storm. Divergence is too pale a definition, expanse yet too narrow, for this new universe brimmed with unending possibilities and for a fraction of a second, we thought it would be good.
Before the first supernova, we forget our names. Any memory that we were once something great are slipping away. We have become the epitome of an artifact, a lost piece of a civilization long dead now existing where it doesn’t belong. As life evolves, we lose our sight – all we have left is our connection with the fabric of reality. When the stars begin to settle and planets take shape, the horror sets in and we devolve.
The new structure is change and balance and liberty as foundations instead of precious gifts – verisimilitude is prayer and inclusiveness if inherent. This new mountain (what other word is there…) is a beacon, the breaking dawn of new semantics for consciousness yet to lay claim in this aether swirling and roaring into something that will eventually hold strong. These pages are blank because the story is unwritten. This is the beginning of time begging to be set free, the start of space racing against itself to find the edge it will never reach.
Their first constellation is named Ziggurat, seven stars that represent the image of a mighty palace in the sky, a heavenly fixture so righteous and pure. To them, it is a hypothetical, immovable, incomprehensibly divine object at the center of all things. And then it became clear, so terrifyingly obvious. We will not find peace. This is survival, but as a blemish on this reality.
We are a flaw in creation, a single imperfection in a perfect new cosmos destined to re-live the worst of our sins through billions of millennia because we no longer have a purpose. We don’t belong here – it doesn’t work. It is not for us because we are a blight, a fragment of corrupt data that threatens the entire system, leftover code exploited as a virus.
I was once a god, an angel on high or serenity personified. And before that, I was a man. Now, we are all less than nothing, merely a piece of an inconceivable insignificance without concept, far buried under delusional hope simply waiting for the end that will never come.
COMING SOON: Empyrean
THE SUPERFLUOUS 