Only the alien bowling ball accompanied him. The two, standing tall on the precipice, overlooked a magnificent citadel filled with exotic flora. Windless, soundless, breathless, it felt like the two were permanently painted into a scene. Nothing seemed to change. Bowling ball (BB) with their tubular appendages ventured forth, leaping off the cliff, lightly floating downward. Marcus joined.

As the two descended, they could see little figures emerging from the fortified gates. BB propelled forward midair, apparently defying the conservation of momentum. Marcus curiously followed.

A voice boomed from the plateau below, where the little figures now numbered over a hundred, “Do the two of you believe in Gods?”

“Do we look the part?” BB asked.

“Most certainly. However, it would be kind if you can impart a bit about yourself.”

BB started, “I come from a terrain called Myzstiswa Np. Our kin thrives on the abundant vegetation that grows there. We go day by day observing the environment, performing extensive research into cultivating the best possible harvests as well as applying microscopic observations to the macroscopic.”

“For instance?”

“Emergence. Notice how the smallest particles which compose us do not, themselves, have any inherent properties that we have. By assembling more and more, simple constituents can produce emergent properties that they alone do not possess. We hope that observing emergent properties on the scale of life can be applied to phenomena near the scale of compact groups.”

The two were now closer. Marcus observed these beings. They were fuzzy and dark, more abyssal than the black holes scattered across the cosmos, more unfathomable than the deepest, most ancient of wells. The voice, belonging to the foremost of the group, inquired, “And you?”

Marcus responded, “I come from Earth. We are creatures coexisting with many others who love to play and explore. Fear is our downfall. Positivity is our saving grace. We are quite emotional. It can cloud our judgment. We are quite cold-blooded at times, It hurts the weak-willed. We are afraid to lose. We are happy when we have each other. But we are even happier when we know we don’t own each other. Altogether, we’re working on it.”

The fuzzy leader chuckled, “Did you not abandon them?”

“Letting go is different from abandonment.”

The two finally landed. The voice whispered to them, now that they were in close proximity, “This world welcomes you and all those who seek to understand. We are Fablas. We would like to bring you on a tour through the capital. Come along, tallyho.”

Shuffling through the hundreds of spectators, the city inside impressed upon Marcus a strange feeling of lucidity. Nothing seemed to matter. But what splendor!

Boundless varieties of trees, some with branches knotted in on itself, some fluorescing in spectral iridescence, some blossoming with bloody buds, and some plain as the unassuming orange sky above, all complimented the wondrous open. Silky gray water, fine like hair, coursed through transparent pipelines bending at right angles. Cobblestone glowed in fiery red, brilliant gold, verdant green, and forever more. The Fablas weaved about the dreamy metropolis like black birds, some hovering higher while others snuck low on the ground. Marcus asked, “Where are the homes and buildings?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The Fabla answered, “We live in everything and rest in the trees. When we have fully replenished our faculties, we seep back out.”

“So no one has a particular tree to rest in?”

“That’s right. But I assume it works differently in your world.”

“We own homes. We own cars. We own countless objects. We get to own them through money.”

“Money?”

“It’s a thing used to buy objects.”

The Fabla thought for a second and laughed. “Imagine selling things you don’t own.”

“It’s really complicated over there,” Marcus sarcastically humored.

BB asked, “How much do you guys know about the strange appearance of the hole?”

“That? Oh, that’s what you would consider a wormhole.”

Marcus asked, “Wormhole?”

“A portal in spacetime connecting two different locations that may be extremely distant, impractical to traverse on the timescale of lightyears.”

Marcus frowned and reasoned, “It doesn’t seem likely you guys would also call it that, let alone the fact that we can communicate intelligibly despite being completely different lifeforms, unless English is really that prevalent, its influence stretching far and unknown.”

The Fabla explained, “We have designed something called a Field Translator. It effectively deciphers our languages, translating from one to the other so we can communicate fluidly with minimal loss in meaning.”

“And did you guys use the Light to make the Field Translator?” Marcus continued.

“It took us five portions of the Light of Unbounded Fervor, one of the ingredients to construct such a universal device.”

“Five? So it’s not a unique artifact in the membranes?”

BB informed, “We initially thought that as well since they were so damn hard to find. But the only condition for it to appear is when an individual themselves has truly found the Light within themselves.”

“Meaning?”

“The Light of Unbounded Fervor is nothing more than a physical manifestation of Enlightenment.”

“I see.”

The Fabla spoke deeply, “It’s a wonderful tool, but it comes with a hefty price.”

Marcus solemnly stared ahead. “And what would that be?”

The Fabla brushed across patches of waving grass gentle like seaweed underwater, waiting on the ocean floor. “To not have to worry about others, or about even oneself, there is no fear. So even if it’s quite beautiful, we seem to have given up on each other.”

True. If the Light of Unbounded Fervor belonged to the Enlightenment of a single individual, how can one expect to reach the truth by relying on someone else’s? To rely on the perspective of another, one would not only have blindly given faith, but would have given up on their own character.

Marcus contemplated a bit more. He saw, amidst the nature of the capital devoid of urbanization besides the fortress walls and numerous pathways, that each of these dark and fuzzy Fablas were isolated creatures, featureless yet communicative. Marcus mused, “I bet you guys have plenty of Lights of Unbounded Fervor. A whole surplus hidden away somewhere.”

The Fabla halted.

Marcus asked, “Why would the Fablas be so aptly prepared, receptive of guests like us? A Field Translator to break the barrier between galaxies. I didn’t even ask about how this world can support extraterrestrial life. My automaton’s energy level has been stable and in fact, steadily increasing since I have arrived here.”