The sun shone orange over the temple courtyard where Sam was staying. He was lying on a hammock, the interior of which was lined with fur. A sigh escaped from his mouth as he stared up at the sky with a blank expression on his face. With Werchbite’s creation, he had taken the experiences from one of the calamities that had been lured over by the explorers and stuffed them into his own mind. Then, he did the same to the rest of the calamities he had captured, absorbing their experiences as well.
The amethyst helmet was on the ground not too far away from the hammock, placed somewhere Sam wouldn’t accidentally step on if he weren’t paying attention. With his telekinesis, Sam lifted the helmet and made it come to him, grabbing with his hand when it was within range. Although he had taken the experiences of all the calamities and lived through them, there was no harm in reviewing what he knew by reliving the experiences multiple times.
“How long is he going to do this?” Dirt asked. The metallic koala was seated on Manga’s back, and the wooly pig was walking in circles around Sam’s hammock. Its legs moved quickly as if it were trotting, but in reality, it only gained as much distance as a turtle would in the same amount of time. “It’s been days.”
“Mangalitsa,” Manga said, letting Sam’s other familiars know its opinion. It was possible for Sam to continue doing this for years. In the first place, higher dimensional beings lived much longer lives than humans, so how could Sam really absorb the details and information extracted from the calamities in a few days when there were so many of them? It’d take years to fully digest the information provided by one of them, and considering there were so many different calamities Sam was studying, perhaps he’d die of old age first.
“Sam can’t die of old age,” Raindu said and looked at the twin-headed snake basking in the sun within a patch of sunlight atop Sam’s leg. “Right, Werchbite? The respiratory system you gave him will make sure of that.” The ferret patted Sam’s chest twice with its front paw, not caring if it’d disturb Sam while he was reliving the experiences stored within the helmet.
“It will,” Vercedei said, answering for the twin-headed snake’s purple head. “However, even Werchbite’s creation can’t keep Sam alive if he chooses to dissolve himself.”
“What if we trap his essence?” Birdbrained asked, squawking in what it thought was a whisper. “What if we build a crystalline body for him with a piece of blue anhydrite stuck in the center to keep his soul tethered to Oterra?”
“Then the blue avians will smash it and kill Sam under the Mother’s orders,” Vercedei said, the twin-headed snake’s tail circling around before pointing at the octopus attached to Sam’s left shoulder. “And I’m sure Sam will cooperate because the Mother is petty enough to flood the surface of Oterra to get what she wants.”
“You’re right,” Birdbrained said, “but what if we still try? Play some hope chess?”
“I haven’t made any mistakes against the lot of you yet,” the Mother said, remaining flat against Sam’s shirt. “And I won’t make any in the future either.” The octopus let out a sighing sound. “If only you could think beyond the short-term gains. If Sam succeeds in becoming a higher-dimensional being, don’t you think you’d get more benefits from him than you would from Oterra?”
“It feels like we’ve discussed this before,” Raindu said. “Let Sam decide. He’s grown up enough to know what’s good for himself.”
“I do know,” Sam said as the helmet worked its way off of his head before floating away onto the ground. “And if I’m wrong, well, I won’t be around to regret it anyway.” Sam sat up and scratched Joe’s back as he did so. “I’ve lived long enough to experience everything Oterra has to offer.”
“Including a flood that’d wipe the surface of Oterra clean?” Dirt asked.
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“Including that,” Sam said, “from multiple perspectives.” He turned and looked down at the octopus clinging to his clothes. “You’ve flooded Oterra a lot.”
“A lot is subjective,” the Mother said. “I disagree with you.”
Sam shrugged before swinging his legs out of the hammock. His body floated up into the air before his feet could touch the ground, and he placed his hands behind his back and stretched his chest forward, not minding the twin-headed snake coiling around his knee. He stared into the setting sun, the orange ball drawn above the horizon, and inhaled deeply through his nose, the scent of damp grass and moist air flooding his nostrils. Although the sun shone on his skin, the breeze sapped away the warmth, and goose bumps rose up on his skin.
Sam looked up before telekinetically lifting himself, his body shooting up into the sky. The human city beneath him looked like an eye with a golden iris surrounded by vegetation with signs of human activity along its edges: felled trees and exposed tracks of dirt in a sea of green. The higher Sam went up, the further he could see: the sandy, yellow surface of Et Serpentium hiding the reptilian city underneath, the shadow-covered divot—though it was much larger up close—where the mantids had made their home. Eventually, Sam passed through a layer of clouds which obscured the ground from his view, but that didn’t stop him from ascending even higher.
“Excuse me?” Dirt asked, riding the wooly pig which was running horizontally but ascending vertically alongside Sam. “Can you not take off without warning?”
“I knew you’d follow me,” Sam said, communicating with his familiars through his mind. It’d be difficult for sound to travel considering how quickly he was rising.
“Where are you going?” Big Fish asked, the green whale’s body growing slightly to become a visible presence top Manga’s back.
“To the higher dimension,” Sam said.
“Wait, right now?” Raindu asked. “You’re just going to go without saying goodbye or anything to the people you know?”
“We enter this world alone,” Sam said, “and when it’s time to go, we go by ourselves.”
“Is that why you took Joe, Raindu, and the Mother with you?” Birdbrained asked. Despite its wings, it was also sitting on Manga’s back, letting the wooly pig do all the work of keeping up with Sam. “And what do you mean when it’s time to go? Are you really going to sublimate yourself? What about all the people you’re leaving behind? What about us?”
“I’m not that important,” Sam said. “When I disappear, life will continue as always for those left behind.” His body came to a halt when the sky above him become more black than blue. A layer of white frost coated his clothes, and the frigid air stung at his exposed skin. In front of him, there was a dimensional speck, the largest and most colorful speck he had discovered since he had gained the ability to view them. “As for you guys….” Sam glanced at his familiars, telekinetically moving the ones on his body to the wooly pig’s back. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” He smiled at them. “If fate allows, we’ll meet again one day.”
“Are we really going to let Sam off himself like this?” Dirt asked.
“I don’t think we can stop him,” Birdbrained said. “He turned stubborn ever since the Mother messed with his head.”
“It’s that stubbornness of his that’ll carry him through the metamorphosis,” the Mother said. “It’ll be a tough process, but should it succeed, Sam will become a resplendent existence, one the lot of you will be proud to have known and nurtured.”
“That’s only if he actually succeeds,” Raindu said as the frost covering Sam’s clothes thickened, accumulating atop his skin as well. “How many times in history has a lower-dimensional entity actually ascended? The number is probably closer to zero than it is to ten.”
The sound of Sam’s familiars talking faded away despite them speaking inside of his mind. The experiences of the calamities he had captured filled his mind, and the memories of the trillions of lives the Mother had had him live came bubbling to the surface of his thoughts. Despite that, Sam couldn’t calculate his odds of succeeding if he followed the Mother’s method of ascension. If he gave up his body and became only his soul, would it be strong and firm enough to serve as the core of a higher-dimensional being?
Sam’s thoughts slowed as the cold seeped into his flesh. It wasn’t a harsh cold; it was comforting, beckoning him to close his eyes and encouraging him to fall asleep. Sam withdrew his All-Seeing Gaze, leaving only the darkness behind his closed eyes to fill his vision. A slow breath rose from deep within Sam’s belly, and when he exhaled, he allowed his awareness to leave his body, losing all feelings of his extremities, the numbness traveling up his torso and into his head. It was as if his body ceased to exist within Sam’s mind, and without a body to transmit signals to his brain, he lost consciousness as well, his thoughts reduced to nothingness. And so, Sam’s mortal coil perished, his essence leaving his flesh without any regrets or earthly ties to weigh it down. The end.