By the heart of some magnetic field, we had overcome the inertia dissolving the Spinal Tap’s core. We were reunited. Nothing stood between us and getting home, apart from our actual bodies still sojourning to get there. The journey back through was every bit as tantalizing as the first time, pinchier at the outset this time actually, but nothing that couldn’t be tolerated.
I realized I was staring at my own backside, bent like a pretzel, returned among sandy flichors gone purple this time, soaring through a pleasant breeze -- except for my crotch being shoved right up near my chin. I reached down as if through syrup, & plugged my hands into the curling magenta~Pad*ths, propelling myself in a slow yawn of motion until my legs unfurled in a crouch.
Position didn't bother me much, for i seemed robbed of all apprehension & regret. And it felt awesome to be robbed, in fact, I’d want nothing less!
Every now and then, you can get relaxed, distracted enough to be without anxiety and boredom. It was this endless hoveRide amidst this streamLit-wisPlace. The least proud and vain people still want to feel influential, or possess something that could be noted as unique. Yet here, I was content merely to inhale & listen. It would be stupid to be covetous, and downright delirious to be envious with libraries of awareness & structure being dumped into my ear with each passing huff of breath.
I almost wanted to get meloncholy that I couldn't listen forever to all the breeze might reveal, but the Flow’s words tickled me so much in the moment, that the smile could not be ripped from my face; I practically forgot ways of oppression -- walks of loneliness could not even sneak up on me. The Breeze playfully tossed some of the eggy batter into my face, where it stuck in clumps without dripping. The affected areas pulsated gently from my skin into the very Depths of my Heart; riveted by the gesture, I inquired: What are you playing at here?
I was shocked to hear an answer: 'We must togetheRemain embedded empathetic, to dissolve many doldrums...'
Seemed fairly simple.
‘No.’ It announced, reading my mind. ’Tis not our right to impose cooperation. You will not find anything simplified when you are dumped back. Yet this temporary connection permitUs demonstrate some free-will conflicts must exist, otherwise charity depreciates.’
The swirling dough gently tilted my head to slope downward. A second ago, nothing had been here save the ooze & metallic-looking stuff. This time I could see a landscape beneath me; the tube no longer obstructed my view. But there was a ceiling high above; there was this pentagonal border of just {well if I really tried to inspect it} fuzzy hazes of crimson, like trying to catch yourself giving conception to a thought.
I began to notice i was imbued with an impeccable, telescopic view.
Below lay a region packed with obsidian mountains and a few sparse trees and visible gems. But most of the peaks were actively volcanic. All was turbulence. Miniscule forms were traversing along places where the magma had crusted over. They were using them as bridges. Temporarily at that; for every so often a fresh river of magma would wash away the footholds. Anything in the path became collateral melt’age.
It appeared the name of the game was to dodge each new tide. Quite dreary. Especially since there was more than just broiling rivers to avoid. Figures that got swept away thrashed around in fury, tearing at the heels of passersby on any given bridge. The lava’flows did not consume the organisms right away as would be expected. These sore losers were resolved to take the so-far-succeeding down with them, even sabotaging the very groups they had once flocked with for strength and safety. Once their string of fortune was ceasing, they basically forgot any prior allegiance.
The wind sounded deflated, maybe shaking its head, when it next spoke: ’Tis your rate-Frame of gimmick. But look again. The struggle one of leaning into abstract decoration. Apply covEditions...’
Some of the tar-like humanoids were going up the mountainside. That way they didn’t have to deal with mentally-exacted saboteurs, and could focus on the environmental elements they had been dodging in the first place. These decided the mass & temperatures itself were the antagonism, and quit competing amongst their own kind. Some lost limbs to burns, and others to falls, but moved onto the next activity to allow little time for bitterness. Others even put themselves in the path of the magma to help another climber escape the skids, giving their progress for a fellow’s. After they floated a ways, they would pause and call down below, encouraging others to follow the same route. Unlike the blobs at the bottom who seemed to be suffering on and on after being swallowed by lava bed, overtaken by splashes of rage over any organism in proximity.
“What are they saying?” I asked.
‘Are you sure?’ spoke the Froth. ’Your ears may be brutalized.’
“I’m extremely interested,” I permissed.
“Granted; for exactitude. But you have dug DEEEPpp,” rustled the Goo. And as the words blew around my ear, it was literally sucked off and swirled down into the current.
“Come along,” spoke climbers, the Martyrs. “The right move is to the core. Down there it is unstable, temporary, fleeting. It jusTakes two successive slip ups and all your right moves will have been for a backwardSet. Besides, the public has never created a solution to stop mass suffering. Surviving to survive among dread has no aim. We beg you: torture not yourselves by running in circles any longer.”
The huddled packs at the mountains’ base literally kept passing from one steamy island slope to the next, transients in search of an oasis; from down there they certainly couldn’t observe the curvature of the horizon -- and all I could see along its length was charred land, after heated geyser, puckering up like canker sores.
“Quit going around; expand your dimensions; face Up; it’s the only way out. Up here you can’t sink in the ocean of faces. The climate is cool, clear save the occasional cloud, not so heated and rushed. Up here our steps are deliberate. Oh dear friends, don’t let the size or the roaring of the mounts intimidate you; don’t you see that glow so golden at the top? Even a fall from the heights will serve you better than remaining in perpetual consternation at the feet, unable to see around these giants. Though the roar intensifies the further the ascension, so more the distance to Perspective expands; Wintensity is worthy.”
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But navigating shifty bridges of cooled magma was what the culture had grown accustomed to. The majority remained clinging to the way of life where they pursued scavenging interests. A strategy that only bred further strife, seeing restless company was frenetic & unstable.
Now, Rock climbing was no delicate, short undertaking either; when low-landers realized that carrying most of their possessions up the mountain slopes could not be done, most did not want to empty their paws nor Packs to exercise the Walls; besides, they were expecting thicker spots to eventually clump along that would solidify into generations of rest. They imagined that they could also treat the soil with by analyzing harder minerals & learning their properties, to collectively help harden and anchor it.
Those that heard of the climbing ventures came to feel less desirable, day by day, for it seemed to require a special set of skills, which chafed the masses resentful, and scoffers rose up from among them, saying: “The steep ground is tricky, could give way at one wrong step, of which there are a countless number. It is irrational. To try requires false hope; hopes all stemming from promises that have never *been observed* to provide fertility.”
Despite this, some of the forms broke off out of the clusters, even as critics railed them for it, to try their hand at Ascension. Apparently, the goal was to face the volcanoes head on. And those that made it to the rim around the bubbling pits, set up camp & lived off higher-altitude resources until a day of eruption washed their outcropping away. Berating mockery began to roar all about over the departing deceased, & I winced, for I could see their issue & it bothered me too: they were vaporized, & made no more sound as their remains wafted across the cliffs.
“What? Those frauds! The climbers are full of false Promises!” I vilified in disbelief. “Looks like they’re having a slow wandering defeat, just to be abandoned!”
The Fluid came back with my earDrum, & nestled it back in. ’It was We who guided them; flood, not fraud. Some mistook me for the elements, not incorrect, we swing eyes there. Other ears were filled with colors & shapes, although I am widespread. Some found us in active frenzy, yet clearly the sun does not whip through the sky. Some were able to spawn new taste buds upon wandering outside cultural Tradition; & rebounded as they wandered, until they lodged in all three. Those that took me at mind’s periodic beck, left bulk behind for seeing progress stunted in it, and did not accredit the understanding of a new direction to their own wisdom. Thus their deaths are far from secession: it is Exemplitude. They surrender to our urges and we grant them access to placidity of mind: a harmonious rebirth of Corporeality,’ hummed the Counselor.
Oh. I should have noticed before that with all those smoke stacks boiling over their tops, there should have been vast plumes of ash blotting out most of the view. But actually, when a climber completed their act as a diver, that a puff slipped out of the cauldrons, turning Pink & purple like sunset, as they hovered away from craggy pots.
“Why does it matter with what intent they do it?” I fired.
’Why, dear, silly boy,’ A gust tousled my hair, & chimed a squeaky chuckle. “Attitude shapes very worlds.” I laughed, supposing this was poignantly ideological. Then I wondered if this amusing Sourcerer had a name.
‘Weave are Vault s’Wing-High-&-Low,’ proclaimed the answer. ’Electrician of cheerful Homestead. Fortress*Stratagem without Flinch.’
I started giggling my cheeks out. “Those are actions, not names!”
’The more extremity the more name will un-Fold,’ They replied
With that, I realized my name had no real imagery embedded. I peered inside myself and became aware of a dilapidated identity. I had a name, but not Title… who would understand my essence? How simple a creature had I been to not care about it before?
‘Don’t simply accrue any name,’ The ripples advised. ‘Make it count, little fruit.’ Then it cradled the most recent ripple of smoke, promptly coiling & swimming out ahead of myself in the sandstream. It changed colored into a pink jar shape. Within the tubular shape, lightning came flashing so constantly it was like the string of beeps and bleats in Morse code. Those bent into some handles and a handful of legs, solidifying in that form.
Out ahead of this matter I could see something new, and BEHEMOTH approaching into view. I glanced down again for reference and saw that we were leaving the first place at our backs, approaching a new domain. And this one was full of beauty.
Majestic green mountains. Thin snow & puddles covered the high altitudes & plateaus. But there were no clouds, and it wasn’t snowing. We were still a little ways off. And then I noticed there was a gulf of a division. A valley cut a border between the two provinces. We were just now crossing it, but so high above that it merely resembled a large crack in an old sidewalk. A trickle of iridescent silver noodled across the valley floor.
At the far end it branched to either side. And when I say branched, I do mean like a tree’s branches, several, and proportional amount of shoots.
’You access the juices of weeping - Road’ium; Terbium; platie’Numb; & murCorey,' - all twinkled within me at the speech.
I scrunched my face & squinted. “I can’t tell the difference from here.”
‘Side by side, in truth.’ Unmasked the sweet Sussurations. ’Different velocities, close enough to brush, but shaped not to scatter or dilute. Numerical melody, essentially, in manner like tuning musical chords.’
“Ok, so why does it weep?”
’Freek-Arc-Hips -- or frantic splash’Over. However, from our side, this for’Mat of out Aid’visions together, are manifold enough to strain & scoop out un-unified portions. Imitate this hope that action stiRashes reaction, & further, refuse not what is barren or inadequate.’
My tongue went limp. What did I know about anything anymore? Well, I could figure out for myself that the weeping juice was some sort of Gateway but… the vale it ran through seemed a crazy barrier in itself. A barred entry just around the corner, but out of the humanoids’ Sight? I found that more than a little counteractive. Would you blur the cover of a magazine or tabloid?
Something didn’t seem fair here to the inhabitants of Lava land. But my head was beginning to ache with all the information up to date, so I opted to let the ideas slide and perhaps they’d settle later.
The former Tribes’manship reduced to a sculpted cloud-mug, picked up speed and dipped away on a streamlet of scintillating silver Juice that branched off from the lanes of assorted fruits I was now riding along. Miles were whipping by as we sped, but weren’t really a measurement to be daunted by here - yet a vase zinging scads of miles to pass over the entire ravine in the time it took to snap off back-to-back blinks, was a feat to get dissolved by.
When it passed over into the Green land there could be seen a tiny pop high above the mountains. Were I up next to it, it would’ve been like a feather pillow rupturing after one too many rounds of playful antics. Considering the size of the object, the burst seemed tremendously insignificant.
Yet it set off a blizzard.
We were right up near the majestic peaks now. The blizzard became more than ferocious. It was like nothing ever seen in my few travels, stirring up a white Wedge that washed away all depth. An indistinct noise mingled into my ears as well. An earthquake? No. Cheering loud as 5 stadiums full.
Wow. One tiny puff ball and it receives a celebratory intensity so extensive, the vase wouldn’t be able to open the presents all the guests had placed before it.
The wind inclined pitch & bounced into feirce dis-chordes. ’All-eye’n flow gainst Mounty...’ but the message wavered away like a dream --"ImpoSting..’horde!’ One of the last coal mountain on the outskirts molten wasteland was interfering, severing the Fel’low into a Li$p, one of the last as we crossed the Canyon of liquid lead, abruptly jabbing its peak across the Gorge toward my position. I was suddenly in the crosshairs of a mega-Cleaver.
Gruff composite shredded into my side & lava spread out where the gash opened. With the Companion voice diverged, fear raced back into motion all around me, and the more I feared as I stared up at the still-rising mountain, the more pulpy ooze drained from my figure, until my shape began to drip down the mountainside & I lost awareness into a deaf-Lated shell…