033. Transmigration, 4
(Gamya)
Dad heard me talking during the night. As if someone else was camping with us in the wild.
Was I speaking in my dream he asked? I wanted to say, yes, I was.
I wasn’t trying to open a way of communications with aliens or anything like that.
There are shades in the night I can’t tell them about just yet.
During the days, it took a keen eye who knew where to look, to notice them. But they were already everywhere.
During the nights, it was a little easier to notice their movements around, and also much more hazardous to be straying in the mountain then.
I didn’t want to worry dad any more than needed to survive. But they were already here. Everywhere.
Maybe since the beginning. It just took me a long time and cautious experience, after other priorities of survival, to focus on them.
To guess where they could show their effects first and more sensibly. To improve on it and then realise what subtle things I should be looking at to really detect them.
Aliens, faeries, ghosts, spirits, one of the kind. I still can’t say which it really is, if any of these concepts is loosely correct.
But I caught first glance of them a few days back, and now got better at spotting them. Enough to realize they are just about everywhere around us.
And likely already inside as well...
I glance beside with a shiver. Mom is growing sick, but it’s different than anything normal.
Her heart beats less steadily, her tension is erratic but overall rising up dangerously. There is a reaction to life, to the foetus inside of her with the spirits out there from now on.
Something doesn’t work anymore, and all we fear, is about the monstrous thing that are born from abandoned flesh.
Mom is a living pocket, surrounding the bowl of primeval waters surrounding her next child, protecting it all over from what is outside.
But now... These spirits are not caring about the previous laws. And I know they don’t obey the rule that only mom’s flesh should interact with the foetus development.
They carry other ideas everywhere. They made our bodies go sick. Some people died. They made the tissues and cells rot in new fashions. They already are everywhere and very likely even inside of us.
They are the diseases that got us, until our bodies managed to fight back and get better over them.
But they are far more than just that, and they continue to linger also outside of us. They’re not just bacteria strains bound to some environments.
Now I see them like mist or dust flowing around, everywhere.
And now, as I’m scared for what they mean next, I try the unthinkable.
Talking to them. Trying to understand.
Praying to them...
Imploring them to spare my mom and the child in her womb.
And I try repeatedly, because, things seem to react slightly to every touch, every movement and every word or activity from things alive. They appear to coalesce around things alive and things about to die.
Even to my voice they seem to react, so I try.
I notice surges of their flowing activities in the distance sometimes. Like a silent geyser in the landscape. And when I’m then able to check what was there at the time, it’s always the same. Something that was alive before, and then alive in a different way. They usually don’t fare very well.
The mountains are actually littered with these spots of decay here and there, where the alien got hold of something finally about to die, because of them or otherwise. They try to take it over, blindly and fluid, to fight pointlessly over the remains with common rot.
Maybe dad is right, about civilisation that would return to a more tribal state.
Unless or until a new power comes to reconquer the smaller ones.
But right now in these mountains, the oblivious and competitive warlords, are them. These faeries are killing every prey they can find, weakening along with them in the air carrying them. And then they fight blind over every piece of fleshy remain...
It’s like animal tissues after death are like water or gold to them.
It’s disgusting. It’s nauseating.
I find another animal body I cannot identify anymore. Every part of it has been tentatively transformed or repurposed, like pieces of toys going for different childish stories. There’s no meaning nor design. It’s just another explosion of pointless randomness.
It’s savage and dumb.
It reacts to our voices, but there is no intelligence behind...
And yet, out of despair a little maybe, I keep trying. I try to talk to them as they surround me. Through words or pushes, through spells. I try to beg them as I know they swim around my mother and her baby to be.
I pray them as if they were pieces of a foreign god, fallen beside me.
I don’t know the right prayers, but I need to convey my wish to them.
I pray to them as much as I can, over what my parents taught me. Maybe all of this, all these infinite fragments of paradises have some bigger meaning.
Perhaps they ever were as god. Possibly they now are akin to suck volition and design trying to rise.
Maybe they will become as such as we have...
Every morning and twilight, we pray our gods. Now I pray different ones for mercy.
Because the more I grow in perception of these elements, and the more I try to communicate with them, the better I understand and the more they also seem to answer in kind.
Without words, they might come to whisper when it’s quiet, through the nights.
~
Clouds passing through the skies are of multiple kinds. They are of condensed waters mostly, carried by the winds as they’ve always been and bound to be. A few are of dust storms, from one geological or industrial event in the vicinity.
And a few others now are quite sights to behold.
G - Look, a rainbow!
I - That’s... Not.... possible.
Dad is confused. The sunlight is beside it. The optical effect is impossible. The rainbow is an entire circle standing still in the sky, around a peculiar cloud floating up there.
Dad know a lot about electromagnetic waves. He used to work in electrical engineering. But even he is puzzled sometimes. Now he feels cold and sweaty, feeling overwhelmed by the experience of something he cannot explain at all.
I clasp my hands and bow my head in a prayer instead.
G - Thank you god for this beautiful display.
Dad is conflicted, but he ruffles my hair and we resume moving away.
Maybe they can’t quite see it yet. But I have the feeling these new volatile gods are also trying to communicate.
~
The more I talk with intention to them, and the more they interact back as if reaching out with their own means. They reciprocate a little.
They can’t do everything I do, since they have no bodies. Maybe that is why they try to hijack anything that is dead? But on a cellular level and an organism size, death is a very different thing, and that is clearly too complicated for them. It’s already an oversimplified concept for us.
They can find ground in tiny diseases, but they struggle randomly to become bigger things like us. I guess it takes a lot of time to create things like humans. A billion years blind, or a few years perhaps with clear design in mind. They don’t seem to have a clear design in mind. They just struggle randomly and die.
But they seem to try to learn in kind.
The ways they follow us, and me. The ways they react and then try to repeat my words sometimes. The ways the music of my voice gives them light or signals to base some ground and movements upon.
The more I repeat words and actions with a floating coalescence near me, the more I become a steady point of reference to them. So they gather.
They grow in brightness. And their soft lines in the air become less and less abstract patterns.
I raise my hand ahead at the end of my prayer. I get shivers as some of their light react in kind, and becomes faint glow before the palm of my hand.
I try to grasp that spontaneous wisp, but it scatters instantly before me.
I begin to think the world isn’t as empty as our eyes are able to see it be.
We’re still miles away from a good face to face or handshake, but maybe in some future times, we’ll be...
I hear mom coughing painfully and moaning in pain, pulling me out of my reverie.
I turn around and get closer to her, leaving all the ghosts out of my focus for a while.
I reach my mom, only to find her vomiting again some weird fluids. The tiny gods must be continuously eating her from the inside...
They don’t know what they’re doing to her.
My parents don’t know either why this is happening, nor what this implies...
~
