Still working on the part of the sci-fi epic called LYFE that this may or may not finally fit into…

 It’s a bitter musing that may or may not be delivered by a member of a semi-immortal and rather high and mighty alien species to its cranky but humbled human interlocutor; depending on how this particular alien’s character finishes growing in me old petri dish, he may or may not be agnostic enough to believably say such a thing. Also, there’s stuff in it about current physics. No doubt THAT will have to be tinkered with.

But I’d like to try it out as a blog post, for now. You know, keeping up the public interest in case a sci-fi publishing house ever decides to actually check LYFE out instead of tossing it on the “no space cowboys? yawn” section of the slush pile. Highly unlikely, since I’m not on television, but you know, I need to do stuff that tricks my brain into thinking continual breathing isn’t just a vanity.

(clears throat)

Did it never occur to you people that this
place may be too awful to be random? A mean retarded Maker gloats over your
strange seductive minds, these bitter conscious soap bubbles he’s trapped in his weak meat soup.
Why would the godshead sentence itself to so many centuries of such bad gruel? Clearly
he thinks it’s a very funny joke. So funny it’s worth the taste of raw blood
forever! How bitter to be the ultimate butt of this joke—a “person”—to ride,
awake, within the gross blood pudding, wishing only to be free of it—and yet
you cry to see God grin and drool as he gorges it down, idiocy omnipotent. So
pleased with its paltry, sloshing joke, a joke that never stops begging for
mercy! How nightmarish, to always know he will have the last bite. Which is
worse for us creatures: to be awake to feel this obscene bully tear the last of
you from your shell, or to be “mercifully” spared the last of your memories?
But what’s the worth of a memory that can only be held for never? For whose
benefit would you savor that last beautiful sunset drenched in pain? The moment
it happens, the personality stew you’re so disgustingly proud of is gone.

Or perhaps there is no god. But again I ask
you: could such a malicious universe truly be an accident? Some of us have
guessed that perhaps the “god” is a scientist, who’s created the universe we
live in with an apparatus—the way our physicians can very momentarily create a “universe”
with its own laws of physics in a jar. Do those “universes” we create for fun
live and die these same subjective agonies in their soap bubble? Or are we
merely playing at god, while the one true God laughs cruelly as we dab in the
sandbox, waiting for his fang? Or if we are, in fact, creatures of another
scientist’s soap bubble, who created that nasty scientist? And who created his Creator? And is
there a universe that isn’t eating its own tail, and if there is why have we
creatures here been shut out of it forever? Perversely, the only comfort is to
think that we really are in hell and we truly enjoyed our mortal sins in a
former life. I hope they were delicious.


  1. Dylan Koch

    I really like your writing and plan on reading more of it. I can see some of your ideas surrounding the struggles we have with memory echoing, to some extent, the ravages of dementia progressing to Alzheimer's. I'm particularly interested in your decision to introject physics into your story. I like this, as well, mainly because the only role models we have nowadays in the science world seem so married to profiteering tech types like Jeff (slave-drone) Bezos.

  2. Post
    Ann Sterzinger

    Thank you to you both… Mean-Spirited: are you talking about that bit where Burroughs posits that there may be too many bodies for the number of available souls? I've always remembered that. Dylan: The idea of a universe in a bubble is as fascinating as it is viscerally disturbing as it is… well, it makes me wonder, as a lay moron, what exactly the geniuses who do these things define as a "universe"; I've gathered it's a realm where the laws of physics are different. Is "different" relative, though? To long-gone geniuses like Descartes, the laws of physics on the Earth might appear to differ from those outside the atmosphere.

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