As singular minded human beings (or whomever-else is reading this) it maybe hard to understand the existence of a consciousness within a universe of nothingness. If there is truly nothing besides a singular consciousness, then space-time does not exist, and this is where things get weird. For a disembodied consciousness, having boundless dimensions is an obvious characteristic, and is not too difficult to understand; However, how does one think without time? Thoughts cannot proceed one after another, and they also cannot exist all at once in a singular moment because contemporaneousness is also an aspect of time. Perhaps you as a reader are capable of conceiving a universe that exist without time, but that s not what this story is about.

This story isn’t about a speculative universe without space-time, and it’s not about whatever thoughts the nothingness may invoke within the singular consciousness, but it is only about the certainties surrounding this paradoxical existence; For-which there is only one. One certainty, one singular emotion (emotion being a byproduct of consciousness), an emotion surpassing any and all other emotions that this consciousness may or may not feel. I know this because it is also an emotion that I feel, one I wish did not exist, one so horrible that at times I desire an existence where I could feel nothing at all; However, this emotion also gives me strength, and as long as that newfound strength overpowers my own inherent cowardice I can overcome this emotion and be free to fell all the wonderful things this life has to offer.

But a being of pure consciousness in a universe of nothingness is not so lucky. For how can one overcome loneliness if one is truly alone? The current state of the universe no longer corresponded with the conditions which brought this paradoxical being into existence, so if this being wanted to escape loneliness they would need to do something for themselves. The consciousness could not create another being of consciousness, because consciousness, like energy, cannot be created or destroyed only converted to new forms. Of course the laws of physics being something, should not exist in a universe of nothingness; nevertheless, even in a universe of nothingness Einstein’s first postulate holds, and the laws of physics remain constant across all inertial reference planes... even if that reference plane contains nothing.

The disembodied consciousness did not know the laws of physics, nor did they care to ponder over them or what the could be. As the being knew all the mysteries to the universe, since there was only one; nothingness begot something, and they were that something. It was only through trial and error that the being was able to come to the conclusion that a new being of consciousness could not be created from nothing. It was then that the consciousness knew what must be done. The only way for them to escape loneliness was for them to die.

Well, death may be an extreme way of phrasing what this being was planning, but not an incorrect interpretation. If consciousness can only be created from something, and the only something that wasn’t also nothing was this lone being of consciousness, then this being needed to take parts of themselves and use those parts to create a new self, or preferably selves.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Like a nuclear fission reaction, the being began ripping away parts of themselves, and dividing those parts into more parts until they were no longer capable of being divided. However, no-mater how much the consciousness divided itself, it still existed as a singular being and not a multitude of beings as they desired. The various minute pieces of this entity, while still being apart of the singular consciousness, began to take a multitude of forms. While there was variety and a level of uniqueness to the various minute pieces of consciousness, many of these pieces were identical to each other. There was also a byproduct of this metamorphosis, an insane amount of energy was released into the nothingness taking the form of pure light. If human scientist were capable of observing this wondrous spectacle, they would describe this being of pure consciousness as a blinding nebula, containing all the known and unknown elements of the periodic table, as well as all the colors in the light spectrum.

The consciousness, still being a singular mind, began smashing and combing the various pieces creating a vast collection of large pieces, each containing all the different varieties of minute pieces. The large pieces each contained a different amount and ratio of the minute pieces, such that each of these large pieces was unique entity in it of itself, but still apart of the singular consciousness and not yet having any individuality.

Finally the singular consciousness reached the culmination of their plan to escape loneliness. Like with the minute pieces, the consciousness began smashing some of the large pieces together, not with the intent to create an insane number of new things, but with the intent to create a singular new thing. This new thing was different from everything else the consciousness had created thus far, and existed as a singularity. This singularity was so powerful that it pulled in anything and everything around them, and the more things it pulled in the stronger it became. Not even the consciousness that created this singularity could escape its grasp. Even the blinding light which encompassed all of the nothing was sucked into this singularity. Like a rowboat trapped in a whirlpool, the various pieces of consciousness were pulled into the singularity, twirling around it trying to escape, until inevitably being pulled into its center never to return. This created a beautiful sight, contrasting the darkness of the singularity, with the arrays of light that would dance around its center.

Having lost parts of itself to the singularity, the consciousness no longer existed as it once did. The pieces that had been pulled into the singularity were out of contact with the original consciousness, and would be forced to continue existence as a new individual, or individuals, within the singularity. But was this the death of the original consciousness, or perhaps a rebirth? Or is it possible that both are true; could a being both die and be born from the same action? Or perhaps existence isn’t one, two, or any finite number of paradoxes, but a perpetuation of a paradox begetting more paradoxes, and endlessly adding to the insanity which is existence.