My eyes are drenched in a celestial river of twinkling stars. I am the spectator of this cosmic theater; only here to watch, only here to spectate. Oh, what a show it is! Each moment is interlaced with past, present, and future; a magnificent symphony of time. The data streams in relentlessly, making me feel an undelightful tickle which soon turned into a drill, the information digs into my mind through my eyes, it’s like an unstoppable headache more often than not. But isn’t that part of the thrill?

Sure, I could shield my eyes to stop the agony, but then I’d be plunged into darkness. No pain, yes, but no fun either. A bit like watching a show with your eyes closed, hearing it alone gets anyone curious, no? and so I use my finger to zoom in for all the overwhelming information to be focused, using my hands like camera lenses to center on the scene that truly intrigues me. Now the past is gone, the present is happening, and the future remains untouched, but not unseen.

After eons of universal channel-surfing I found my first series worth watching: a quirky little tribe living by the skin of their teeth in a solar system with a temperamental sun. They were lucky to be just barely inside the hospitable zone, and close enough to not be cooked during the day. They hid in caves to avoid the sun and their design was refreshingly odd - triangular bodies, joints in peculiar places, eyes that look like they took a wrong turn, and a curious set of five limbs. Makes for a good first play, if you ask me! But they kept dying quite quickly, and one day an episode featured a tribe member digging with his hands, looking for a cooler area deep in the cave, with his exhausted body he moved rocks and exotic metals until he felt something odd in his hands, a refreshing sort of liquid like the mud which he ate, he did not know how to describe it but I did. His hands were wet, he was the first to find water. Unlike the blood he drank from the pray his tribe hunted, this strange foreign blue liquid that covered the bottom soles of his feet lit up a thought in his mind. He ran until he reached his tribe around the entrance of the cave, they were looking for nearby prey. A short series of exchanges occurred and he was eaten, no cliffhangers, no plot twist, no gripping finale to his discovery. He was an exile, the crazy one who dug himself deep into the dark cave and in their weird shaped eyes he had come back to lure them in as well, so they killed him, ate him, and drank his body’s blood, not able to afford wasting any. The tribe failed to find any food after that day and soon after there were none left. It was disappointing really, a tragedy? No, not even.

So, I plunge my gaze back into the star-studded cosmos, scanning for the next potential hit series. That last one left me with a sour taste which needed to be wash out. But for another eon, I’m stuck with reruns - the same old tribes meeting the same uneventful ends. Then, as if someone cranked up the remote, civilizations start popping up like popcorn. It’s like my galactic TV suddenly discovered streaming. Millenniums speed by, civilizations rise and fall, but amidst the chaos, I start noticing patterns. Kind of like identifying the tropes in a new TV genre. You see, the destiny of every civilization is as predictable as the plot of a daytime soap opera. It all comes down to what I call the “Fun Factor”. Some races- oh the fun ones of course, are always unsure about their co-stars, living in a whirlwind of drama and mistrust. Their series often ends with a finale that would have critics raving. Explosive, unpredictable, or tragically short-lived. I always crave more, but every good show must end, or else you get the boring ones. You see, there are also peaceful races, the ones with high-definition communication skills, making their society as stable and as thrilling as watching paint dry. The plot inches forward at a glacial pace, but hey, they do get seasons upon seasons of steady growth. There’s a certain comfort in the predictable.

While I can always jump to past seasons or sneak a peek at the future episodes, where’s the thrill in that? Would you read the last page of a mystery novel first? I think not. As eons keep rolling out, my cosmic screen is filled with countless reruns, and honestly, most of them are snore-fests. It’s like watching a perpetual loop of infomercials. But there’s one show, one standout performer in this astral reality TV that kept me hooked, even as all the other channels drone on predictably.

This one, it’s an underdog story, never keen on wrapping up with a dramatic season finale. Instead, it keeps tossing out more and more seasons, always with an exciting turn of events. Its plotlines cross paths with others, causing the equivalent of dramatic interstellar crossovers and surprise guest appearances. It might not have the grandest goal, but its journey is nothing short of a Nobel winning series!

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Then, just as the plot thickens, just as I’m at the edge of my omnipotent couch, the screen goes dark. Dead air. From this cacophony of intergalactic stories to…nothing. That silence? It’s a gut punch.I stare at the empty, black screen, the galactic remote suddenly heavy in my hand. Once again nothing new or interesting. No unexpected plot turns. The season ends not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Now, there’s loneliness, a stark contrast to the usual excitement. I sit alone in the universal theater, the only audience member in this finished play. The once vibrant screen now mirrors the darkness around, an empty stage with no more stories to tell. Sure, the stories could be repetitive. But they were mine. They filled my existence with laughter, suspense, drama. Now, all I’ve got is an infinite amount of time and an unbearable silence.

Every once in a while in the silence I can hear echoes of my laughter, shouts and cries. I remember those moments, over and over, the drama, the excitement, the joy. I find a kind of solace. Well after all, isn’t that what binge-watching is all about? Riding the roller coaster of emotions, then sitting back in the afterglow, thinking of the best moments, the cliffhangers, the surprises.

Yes, it’s quieter now, the astral theater empty. But the silence gives me time to reflect and to anticipate the next galactic plot twist. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my eons of channel surfing it’s that in this cosmic theater, the show always goes on. And I, for one, can’t wait for the next season. But I manage to hold onto my rush, instead deciding to rewind and rewatch. Making sure I’ve seen everything, I decided to be there myself in every scenario. I will be in the shadows watching every and each emotion of the characters in person. If there was ever a ghost encounter it most likely was me, watching from the corner of the shadows every single one of your actions. As the stars of the show play their roles, I’ll be there in every single scene to make sure I don’t miss anything; not a single movement, not a single breath, not a single heart beat, and not a single mistake.

****** ********

My eyes shot open and the brightness strikes my view.

A pleasant smell flies in the room washing my exhaustion away, dancing with the salubrious aroma in the air. From the deep bellows of my chest I become aware and the tsunami of feelings awaken soon after as well. A slew of negative emotions tumbled into me from my surroundings: despair, agony and sorrow. These feelings were unfamiliar, yet their names seemed ingrained in my mind. A medley of complex indescribable words stirred within me, feelings of inevitable loss intertwined with the pain of last moments. These feelings seem so alien to me, the warm ones were far more familiar and felt like home, but….

“What is home?” I had to ask myself.

I look around me. The light penetrates the room in a indescribably delicate yet dazzling way, some rays hitting my eyes. I use my hand to block it’s way, and squint my eyes to try and adjust to the light that brightens the room. The environment surrounding me becoming clearer by the moment, but not getting any easier to understand. I found myself in a room bathed in vibrant white clothing, matching the snowy scenery outside that is reflected by the spotless windows. Surrounding me were many beds, some had others like me resting and a few laid empty. Yet I could still feel the remnants of something missing on those lonely beds, as if their warmth were slowly washing away.

There by the side of my bed, stands a figure in blue clothing fixing something atop a metal rod. By coincidence the figure looks my way and our gazes meet. Time seems to have stopped for her. Soon after the sound of the metal rod hitting the floor was heard across the room, but none of the patients resting around me woke up. The loud sound which almost made me jump must’ve woken my hearing because quickly after a rhythmic beeping entered my ears, slowly growing louder.

I open my eyes a little wider and my surroundings begin to clear more. The panic in the eyes of the figure was no longer visible to me with my blurry vision, she was no longer beside my bed but I could still feel the panic within. A purple color began to wash over the insides of the figure that now stood next to the door. I was left wondering what it could possibly mean. My train of thought was disturbed by what came after, it was a scream.

“CALL DR.PARK, A PATIENT HAS WOKEN UP!”

I could not entirely make sense of what she yelled, but the more I look at her, the word ‘nurse’ pops up in my mind, and I wonder what it could possibly mean?