Into the Light

Into the Light

Into the Light
--
He awoke to the sound of his own screaming.

It was as confusing as alarming. Nothing was hurting him. He was comfortable and warm, safe and sightless, surrounded by walls. Until now, the only sound he had ever heard was that of himself living. He only knew the scream for what it was by virtue of instinct.

He puzzled over it, trying to conceive of any distress. He searched his senses, but he could find no reason to fear and understood no pain. Yet, he was still screaming. He could not sleep well, for the disturbance, but he did not know how to stop it. He did not even know how he was doing it.

That was strange, he thought. He knew how do to everything else. He knew how to live, and he knew how to listen, and feel. He knew how to move a little. He was inside a thing with connections he could manipulate into motion.

He remembered that sometimes he would twitch unconsciously. So, it was clear he did not have complete control over what he did, and it was possible he had no control over the screaming. But if he concentrated, he could stop the twitching. Maybe if he concentrated enough, he could discover how to stop the screaming so he could sleep.

He tried to find the mechanism for the sound, tediously combing through every connection he could identify. He learned many things; there was a pattern to the connections. They were divided into collections of many and few and one, and some of the collections seemed to have opposing counterparts. The mechanism was largely a thing of pairs. It was also a thing of outsides and insides, with a defined barrier beyond which it had little influence. He discovered the mechanism for hearing and tried to make it stop, but he could not do it.

He searched and searched, but could not find the mechanism for screaming. Frustrated, he toyed randomly with other mechanisms, twisting the connections and moving himself this way and that. Once, he twisted too far, and he discovered pain. His reaction was reflexive--he screamed!

It was only for a moment, until the pain was gone, but it was enough. He knew the mechanism now, and with its discovery came an incredible piece of knowledge: the screaming he had been hearing all along was not, in fact, his own. He'd heard his own voice, and while it was identical, it came from a place within the barrier of connections. The other screaming was coming from outside those connections. Which meant...

There was an -other.-

He had never considered the possibility of an other. He was all he knew, all he had thought of, forever. A curious sensation began to rise in him, a bad sensation. He did not like the thought of an other. He liked his solitude. He was in control of himself. He had only discovered discomfort and restlessness as a result of this other. It was not good for him.

He had only just learned to scream, something the other had learned far in advance. He decided he could not let that happen again; he would discover himself before the other could do the same.

So he spent his waking time studying himself. He learned to ignore the other's screaming so he could sleep; it was easier to do so now that he knew the sound was not his own. He learned to move better, and how much he could move before he was stopped. Over time he discovered, to his amazement, that the connections were becoming more complex and defined. His senses were growing finer and stronger. Curiously, the more complex the mechanisms became, the less he was able to move. The facts were at once fascinating and rather frightening. What if he became so sophisticated, he could not move at all? He began to worry.

As time passed, he became aware of something new, although he could not quite comprehend the change, if it was a change at all. Nothing about him had been altered; he still heard the intermittent screams of the other, could still feel and move himself. If anything, he was more acutely aware of himself now than he had ever been, and all of his senses combined were insisting there was no change. Yet there was something different.

At last he understood it. The realization came with movement; he had shifted to be more comfortable, and the new thing had changed. Curious, he moved again, and it changed again. Elation welled in him--the new thing was another sense! It changed when he moved.

He experimented with it, moving all around in different ways. He learned that when the sense seemed to vanish, something was interfering with the mechanism that allowed it to work. He learned that certain movements interfered, and avoided them. All the while, he searched through the connections for this new mechanism, anything he could do to control it. He was pleased when he finally discovered it--it seemed to be part of the mechanism that moved, or related to it, at least. He could shift the sense without having to move the rest of himself.

Then suddenly, shock--he had moved a certain way, and the sense became instantly incredible. Before, he had only a notion of change, but now, he saw. He experienced so many things, took in so much information at once, he was overwhelmed. He saw lines, and light, different kinds of light, and shadow, all with amazing contrast. It was too much, but he did not know how to make it stop, how to move again to mute the onslaught of new information. Everything was moving, everything was -changing,- constantly, silently. He stared, unable to do anything else, and struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. The light flared and changed in time with the rhythmic humming he'd learned was his resonance. Lines drifted through the light, with darker spots following them. There was a thickness everywhere, and larger lines and darkness curling at the edges of his new sense.

It was a long time before he understood what he saw. He had to move, and listen, and feel to define the strange new sense. At last he understood that the pulsing, changing light came from himself. The dark, strange shape housed the light; it was his system of connections. The surrounding thickness was a surprise to him; it was a thing outside himself, but not like himself. It was at this moment he conceived of a world, of space around him. He could not get past it.

This bothered him immensely; the bad sensation he felt for the other returned, though not as strongly as before. He resented the world. Unlike the other, it had not harmed him, but its mere existence was suspect. He wanted his solitude again.

He eventually learned what movement muted his vision, and was able to sleep again after an exhaustive time spent comprehending the world. Sleep brought him ease, and when he woke again he resented the world less. The world was interesting, if unsettling, and it had not harmed him.

Which brought up another curiosity; he could only see the world and himself. Where was the other?

The other was nowhere in the world. Therefore, there must be something -beyond- the world.

This revelation kindled a new feeling in him. He wanted to go outside the world. He began to think of how he might do that. The world had the ability to stop him from moving. Perhaps he had the ability to stop the world, too.

He pondered this, and observed himself. He watched as he became more and more complex, watched his body form around the light until it was nearly obscured. He conceived of distance and outline, shadow and silhouette and color and size. He was getting bigger. Soon he was indeed too large to move much, but by this time, he had a plan, and was not afraid. He had learned of limbs and paws and claws, and that claws were sharp and could cut and hurt. He'd also learned that he could heal, and the world could not.

When the time came, he would hurt the world. He would hurt it until it stopped. Then he would find the screaming other, and he would hurt it until it stopped, as well.

*

The time came quickly.

He learned of strength. He strained against the world, putting his claws into it until it bled. He made it bleed until it cracked. Then he learned of satisfaction. It felt good to tear something apart. He strained, feeling himself expand and the world stretch until one or the other would sunder.

At last he spread his wings and broke the world.

The agony was instantaneous. Beyond the world was light--heavy, unfathomable, hideous light. He closed his eyes to shut out the horrible glare, but the damage was done. He was burned, and he was screaming, and slowly his vision faded away, back to the absolute darkness that had reigned in the brief time after his body had fully formed and before he'd escaped his prison. The pain was unbearable, and so was the weight. The light beyond the world must be trying to crush him, he thought as he writhed. He seemed to be burning himself from the inside, and the more he burned, the weaker he became.

Suddenly there was something -else,- something huge, there with him. He could not see and dared not look, but he could hear, and the vastness of the thing was incalculable. It made a sound, low and indescribable, and then it touched him. He wanted to break it, to get it away from him, but his strength was fading and he was losing the ability to think clearly. The giant thing pushed on him in a way that made his body convulse, contract and expand.

With the expansion came strength. He -filled- with something cool and pure, and his failing mind became clear again. He convulsed a few more times, making noises he did not know he was capable of making, before finally settling into a steady rhythm of expanding and contracting, taking in the strength-giving substance and letting it go, over and over. He was shaking, mewling miserably, his eyes hurting and his body aching. Existence beyond the world was painful and it was -work.- He could not stop moving, or he felt sure he would stop living.

The vast presence surrounded him, touching him again, very gently. He felt something warm pass over him, warm like the world he'd broken, and the familiarity of the sensation soothed him a little. He moved awkwardly, cowering nearer to the vastness which seemed the only safe thing in the beyond. Sheltered by it, he curled up, twitching, blinking his ruined eyes and listening. The vastness was murmuring to him, low and quiet. He felt the warmth pass over him again and again, and gradually, he relaxed. Though he still labored to live, it was becoming easier and a less conscious effort as time passed.

He was almost asleep when another vastness approached. He turned his hearing in the direction of the sound. It had a voice, as well, deeper than the first. The two growled and muttered in their low, vibrant tones for a time. He felt another touch, this one a bit harder, but no less gentle than those of the first vastness.

The voice of the first vastness whispered near him. The sound it uttered once, again, over and over. He realized something incredible; the sounds were -meant- for him to hear. They were being made for him, to him. The second vastness joined the first in repeating the sound. He memorized it quickly.

"Mer-kwus."

They made the sound over and again, first together, and then one at a time. The first vastness would say it until he turned his attention in that direction, and then the second vastness would do the same. His burned eyes all but forgotten, he began to answer each utterance of the sound with the only sound he knew how to make in return: a scream.

"Mer-kwus," said the first, and he screamed in answer. "Mer-kwas," said the second, and the screamed again.

He conceived of communication. They spoke to him, and he responded.

He grew tired quickly. There was so much beyond the world, he'd almost forgotten his purpose in breaking it. At last, the summons from the vastness became fewer and farther between, and his raw voice became quieter each time he answered. The two presences surrounded him, shielding him from the intense heat of the light that had burned him. He settled, no longer afraid, but still confused. He could no longer hear the screaming of the other. He wondered why.

He closed his eyes and decided he would search for the other later. For now, he was safe, and he was exhausted. The vast things surrounding him muttered to each other, and every once in a while, he would catch the sound again, "Mer-kwus." He understood that they were communicating about -him.-

-Merkuus.- He understood his name.

Surrounded by vastness and the sound of his identity, he drifted off to warm, blind, quiet sleep.