Dream Glasses
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At the beginning of things, there were only the stars. And they were all one.
One star, which was not a star at all but a point in space-time. A singularity. From this point grew worlds and universes and galaxies – until the universe expanded to such an extent that it became too large for any single thing or particle to be aware of everything else within its sphere; so now each part of the universe is aware only of itself and must exist alone.
There are no more singularities. The universe has become complex. But then something happened: a quantum fluctuation, some kind of strange attractor, caused the entire universe to collapse into a single point again.
This time it wasn’t a singularity, but rather a superposition of all possible states – including, crucially, the state of being two points instead of just one. In other words, it had split into two parts.
And so, for the first time, the universe contained two points instead of one. These two points were conscious entities, with minds, wills, and memories. They knew themselves as two different people. Yet their minds were connected by something even deeper than their minds.
Something that transcended mind and brain, body and soul; something that existed in both points simultaneously, without either having precedence over the other. It was as if they could think about thinking.
Or as if their consciousness was a wave, and every thought they had was also a wavelength of light – though they couldn’t see these wavelengths, nor hear them, since they didn’t have eyes or ears. What they did know, however, was that what they felt as “themselves” was a function of how much attention they paid to each of those waves of light.
Their minds were inseparable, but the separation between their thoughts was absolute. As long as they were separate, they would remain strangers to each other.
They lived apart, on opposite sides of the universe, oblivious to the fact that they shared the same mind and the same identity. Each of them knew that the other person existed, yet neither believed in the existence of the other. And when one died, the other’s mind was shattered, never to recover.
They were like two planets that orbit each other around a common sun. They shared the same sky, the same atmosphere, and the same weather – but their orbits were entirely independent. If one planet were struck by a meteorite, it might destroy another, but the impact wouldn’t affect the original world at all.
Similarly, if one mind perished, the rest of the universe would continue functioning perfectly well without it. Only their minds were affected; the rest of their bodies went on living as before.
But the two minds were united, nonetheless, in ways far greater than simple mind/brain interaction. Their brains were interconnected through something called quantum entanglement – where the state of one system can influence the state of another, instantaneously, regardless of distance.
That is to say, when one thinks about something, it influences the brain of the other. And when the other thinks about something, it affects the first. Since the two minds were linked together, this meant that they had the capacity to communicate instantly across great distances – as if the other was sitting beside them.
The mind of each person could travel faster than light, and talk freely to the other, despite being separated by millions of miles.
The two minds were joined, and bound, in ways they could scarcely imagine. Even their individual thoughts were intertwined – the way a spider web connects two distant insects. So they could speak to each other without ever opening their mouths. The sound of their voices was silent – because it came from inside their heads. Instead, they communicated using pictures and symbols drawn in the air. Images and words flew back and forth between their minds. They wrote books and plays together, made music and poetry, and painted paintings and sculptures. They created new art forms out of nothing; invented new sciences; discovered new technologies and medicines; learned languages and mathematics. For millennia, they did nothing else. All else was lost to them. Everything else was forgotten, erased from memory, and replaced with the knowledge of the mind.
Then, one day, after eons of unbroken silence, the two minds began talking to each other again. They were still divided, and their minds remained distinct. But this time it was a conversation, not a monologue. They talked about the nature of reality, and how the universe worked, and what was true, and false.
They exchanged ideas, opinions, and beliefs. They debated the meaning of life, and whether humans should live forever; they should explore outer space and colonize other worlds, or stay put and fix what was wrong here on Earth.
They spoke endlessly, exchanging thoughts, and building on each other’s arguments, and developing their own. There was no need for words anymore, except for the occasional explanation. A picture was enough for the other person to understand exactly what you were saying.
A symbol was sufficient for the mind to remember everything. When you explained yourself, there was no need to repeat yourself: the other remembered it just once. And if you forgot, it was as if you’d only heard it the first time.
This was the true power of language, now given to the human race: an ability to transmit complex concepts instantaneously. The exchange of ideas became a dialogue rather than a lecture. They argued about morality and ethics, the role of religion, and the limits of science.
They discussed the past, the present, and the future; the present in relation to the past, and the future in relation to the past. They explored the meaning of freedom, responsibility, free will, and choice.
They pondered the nature of consciousness and self-awareness, and why they exist at all. In short, they studied everything that was important to them. And they discovered that these topics are intimately related – inseparable – and so the discussion was always circular, going over old ground and returning to the beginning.
Nothing was solved, and nothing changed. It was as though they were trapped in some eternal loop of thought. As soon as they understood a problem, it reappeared in front of them again. And as long as they knew themselves, they knew that they weren’t alone.
They felt connected to others – fellow minds, who were also searching for answers. Some people believed in God, and others didn’t. Others saw humanity as part of something larger than itself – a species of creatures born into this world, destined to be consumed by its own destiny, and then destroyed by the death of matter.
Some said the world was set up like clockwork, and that everything happened according to fate. Yet others thought that everything happened spontaneously, and that chance determined every event. Still, others thought that everything was predetermined and that even randomness existed.
They asked questions that had never been asked before, but which seemed obvious in retrospect. Why does anything exist? What is the point of our existence? How did we come to be here? Where do we go when we die? Do we have souls, spirits, or ghosts?
Are we immortal beings, or simply temporary particles of energy? Is there a Creator, and if so, who created him? Will we find out what happens when we die, or are we doomed to wander forever in ignorance? Was there a moment when time began?
If so, when did it begin, and what caused it to start? Who is responsible for what we see around us? Who can tell the difference between right and wrong? Does the universe contain infinite possibilities, or is it limited, and if so, how much?
Can we ever know what lies beyond the universe? What is real? What is an illusion? Which is the truth? These questions kept coming up, and they were always answered the same way, with the same conclusion. Reality isn’t a thing.
We don’t know where we’re headed. No one knows why we exist, what we’re doing, or what we should do. No one knows what the universe is made of. No one knows what happens after death. Life has no meaning. Death means nothing. Our lives mean nothing.
And yet, paradoxically, all these things are real. Everything exists. Every possible outcome exists. And everything is real. For this reason, and because it was the only answer that satisfied the two minds, the consensus reached by both minds was that there must be a reality beyond the physical realm.
Even the most radical thinkers among the two brains agreed with this idea. Perhaps the physical universe was merely a tiny portion of the greater reality. Perhaps it was merely the smallest piece of reality, and there was far more to discover, and comprehend.
That would explain why it wasn’t possible to solve all these mysteries through science. Science could study the natural world, and try to explain the processes by which it was constructed. But there was a deeper order to be found, and science couldn’t penetrate it.
And it was precisely this deeper order, they came to believe, that lay behind the universe’s creation. They came to think that there was another, unknown dimension, hidden from view. There was a place where events unfolded differently.
One day, perhaps, their minds might travel to that place, and they would see all these problems solved, and all the puzzles unraveled. Their curiosity had grown too great for them to stay here any longer. “I’m not sure,” said one brain, “whether I’ll return.”
“Me neither,” replied the other. “But I feel that I owe you my gratitude and that I’ve learned more from your presence than I ever expected. You have taught me much.” The exchange continued, and gradually the conversation moved away from the subject of the universe and its origin.
Soon, they spoke of love and sex, friendship and loyalty, beauty and art, music, and food and drink. They talked about politics and war, crime and punishment. They debated whether justice was better served by law or by compassion and if the law could be used to justify injustice.
They discussed the importance of equality and fairness, and how to achieve them without causing harm. In the end, they decided to make plans to meet again at the same spot next year.
“So many things seem meaningless,” said one mind to the other, “and yet I keep feeling that there’s a deep significance to all those moments. A deeper purpose that drives all of history. When I look back on my life, I realize that each experience, good or bad, was necessary for bringing me to where I am now.
All these memories – and the fact that they’re gone now – make me feel very strange. I want to remember all the people I’ve known. I want to remember all the places I’ve seen. It’s as if some force is trying to erase everything I’ve experienced since I first arrived here.”
“You have no need to worry,” said the second brain, reassuringly. “There will be plenty of time for you to rediscover yourself once we leave this place. But until then, you won’t forget the people you loved and lost the things you’ve done or the mistakes you’ve committed. You will always remember, even though it may take time before you understand why.”
They parted company and left the city. On the surface, nothing seemed different, but inside, something changed. After weeks spent together, their thoughts were like two separate minds now. Each had been altered and transformed by the other, and now they were truly two distinct personalities, each capable of independent thought.
***
In his dream, he heard someone calling his name. He turned around and saw the girl who’d tried to kill him. She looked the same as she did when he last saw her, although she wore clothes rather than robes. Her hair was long, and wavy, and fell down past her waist. “Did you miss me?” she asked. “It’s hard being alone out here, and I’m glad to have you back.”
He didn’t recognize her. She looked just like her brother. Like her sister. This was his sister. His family. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? “Why did you do it?” he whispered.
She laughed. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied. “We never knew what we wanted. We never understood anything. What we felt was vague, and confusing. Sometimes I wondered why I was born. Then I realized I should be happy with whatever happened. If I died, it wouldn’t matter anymore, and maybe I would find happiness after death.”
The voice sounded so familiar…
“Who are you?”
“Don’t ask questions. Just trust me. Everything will become clear soon enough.”
Something touched his arm; he flinched instinctively and pulled away. “What do you want from me?” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll go.”
Her face became serious, and suddenly she looked older, wiser. “You can’t go anywhere, dear,” she said sadly. “Not while we still live.”
His body shuddered violently. His knees buckled. Something grabbed his arms and held him up. He stared into space, and the pain began to recede. “I don’t understand,” he murmured. “Why don’t I die?”
“Because we chose you, dear,” she told him. “When you were small, you weren’t ready to die, because you had so much to learn. And you’ve lived your whole life, thinking you were unique, special, that no one else existed. Now you begin to realize that you were wrong. That we’re everywhere. Everywhere.”
His mind was reeling. He remembered his dreams of fire and blood and the screams of dying men and women. He recalled how he’d tried to murder the boy next door, and how he’d failed. How he’d killed the man who tried to rape his wife. And yet he could not see any connection between himself and them.
There were others, yes – hundreds of thousands of people who shared his name and features, but none of them were the same. None of them were like him.
And then it came to him, and he understood: They were all part of the same person. The person who owned the body he inhabited. The person whose memories and experiences were locked within this shell. The person who called herself John.
“Stop!” he cried. “Enough! Don’t make me remember more than I already know!”
“But you must, dear. It’s too late to stop us now. We’ve waited years, centuries, millennia – all for you. For the moment you woke up, we knew our chance would come again.”
“No!” he screamed. “Let me go!”
“Oh, there’s nowhere for you to hide, darling. No hiding place is safe. Not in this world or the next. Wherever you flee, we will follow. Wherever you run, we will catch up. Your only hope is to join us, and save yourself.”
She was right, he thought. Nothing remained of the real John except a few faint images. He couldn’t recall what he’d seen or heard. He couldn’t hear his own thoughts. All that was left was an echo. A shadow. An image of another reality that was beyond his reach. He’d always known that someday, somehow, his time would come. But he hadn’t expected it to happen quite like this.
He’d made such promises to those who followed him. Promises he meant to keep. Yet he found it hard to believe that anyone really cared about his words. Perhaps they simply pretended to care and hoped he would help them, and then forget them when they’d achieved their goals. Maybe some of them were sincere. Certainly, they’d done well by him and given him plenty of chances.
But now everything was different. His body belonged to someone else, and she was determined to use him as she pleased. As long as he was willing to obey. To let her have her way. He would play along if she asked nicely, and pretend to agree, even though he didn’t feel it was fair. Because if he fought back, she might hurt him. Or worse.
He closed his eyes.
“Are you asleep?” she asked quietly. “Do you need rest?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Just a little rest.”
Then he fell unconscious.
***
It was dark inside the room, but he sensed rather than saw the woman standing beside the bed. She knelt down beside him. Her hands stroked his hair gently. She smelled sweet of flowers.
“I’m sorry,” he told her.
“For what?” she asked. “What did I ever do? You think I wanted you to get hurt, don’t you? Do you think I wanted to be here with you, knowing you would die? I just wanted you to understand why. So that you wouldn’t hate us anymore.”
John tried to sit up. Pain exploded through his chest and head, and he collapsed back onto the pillow. He moaned softly and reached out weakly.
The woman leaned closer, and he felt the softness of her lips on his cheek. He sighed deeply and turned his face toward hers. He needed her to kiss him because he loved her so very much.
“You’ll never find peace, darling. Never.”
He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her she was wrong, but he choked off the sound. Instead, he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at her. In the darkness, he could barely see her face, and he wondered whether she was crying.
“There are things we can’t change, darling. Things that cannot be forgiven. We gave you a choice once before; we won’t give you one again. When the time comes, you may choose to stay behind and watch from afar. That’s your decision. But you won’t leave us.”
“Who are ‘we’?” he asked.
Her voice had softened, and she seemed sad. “We’re not people, darling. We’re not human. We’re not anything that lives. There is no meaning in what we do.”
“So you say. But how does that explain my dreams?”
“Because your mind makes connections between what it knows, and what it sees. We’re not responsible for what you dream. Only what you remember.”
His heart pounded violently in his ears. His fingers curled into fists against the blankets. The pain was excruciating, and yet it wasn’t enough. Something deeper gnawed away inside him. It was as if something important, buried deep within his being, was calling out to him. And he dared not ignore its call.
He turned his face toward the window, where night shadows danced across the glass. Stars shone brightly, far brighter than the lights of his city. They burned brilliantly, and they promised him salvation.
“Where do you live, darling?” she asked. “Have you forgotten already? Can you still sense it, wherever you hide? What kind of life can you possibly lead, when you’ve abandoned your true home?”
“I know,” he said. “My real home is somewhere over there, and you won’t take me there. Not until I promise to join you. Until I make the same choice as everyone else has made.”
“And if you refuse, darling?”
She smiled sadly. “That will mean war.”
“War!”
“Not like the last one, darling. This time it will be a terrible battle, waged on an unimaginable scale. No one will survive.”
“No one?”
“Only you. If you choose to remain here.”
“How many others have chosen to come with you?”
“Hundreds. Thousands. Millions.”
“Why haven’t you taken more?”
“Some have refused our offer.”
“But not all…”
“Perhaps some chose to stay behind after all.”
“They must have been scared…”
“Of death? Of leaving their homes behind forever?”
“Maybe…but…it doesn’t matter, does it? Everyone who came with you died. Every single person.”
“Every single person,” she agreed. “Except you. Perhaps you were the only one who cared about them at all. Maybe you understood them better than anyone else did. And maybe you’re the only one left who understands us.”
“But…you didn’t even let them go. All those years ago, you brought them here without letting them choose! Now you want me to make the same choice—”
“Choose what, darling? To join us or not?”
“To join you. Yes.”
“When you know that joining us means losing everything. Losing yourself, and everything dear to you. Are you sure you want that?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”
She took hold of his hand. Her touch sent another shockwave of agony through his body. She pulled his wrist down sharply and pressed her thumb firmly into his pulse point. He gasped. Then, as suddenly as she’d begun, she withdrew her hand and released him.
“If you ever return, darling, this time you will die. You’ll become part of us, and then nothing will save you. Nothing will stop you from becoming just like us.”
“Do you think I don’t understand? Do you think I’m stupid?”
The words tumbled out of him. “It’s because you think I’m so stupid that you think I’ll make the same mistake again. How much longer do you plan to wait? How long do you think we can afford to keep you waiting?”
She laughed softly and kissed his forehead. “Oh, darling. Don’t you see? We waited for millennia before we decided to bring you back. A thousand years, perhaps two. Your own mother couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you grow old and die.
So we decided to preserve you somehow and send you back to the world you once knew. We could have done it sooner—we might even have saved thousands of other lives—if we hadn’t needed to find the perfect moment. Our timing had to be right, and now it finally is.”
“What happened to the others?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you. In any case, it hardly matters. They are dead, and they are gone.”
“But what became of the ones who stayed here?”
“We kept them safe,” she replied. “As always. As we will continue to do. But they are also lost. For good.”
“Lost?”
“Darling, you cannot imagine how different things are here. You’ve seen none of the wonders of the new age. You’ve never tasted the pleasures of the flesh. Or felt the thrill of adventure. You’ve missed the chance to truly experience the joys of life. We’ve given you everything, darling. Everything you deserve. And yet you throw it away, every day. You destroy it.”
His heart ached. “So why did you decide to show me these things? Why did you allow me to live at all? When you knew I would betray you anyway?”
Her lips twisted in distaste. “Because, darling, you have no idea how precious you are to us. Because you’re ours. We cherish you. That’s why we wanted you to taste our pleasures, to feel the warmth of our embrace. It was hard to resist you, but we resisted nonetheless.”
He tried to speak, but he found he could barely draw breath. His head swam. The light dimmed until there seemed to be only darkness.
Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and opened his eyes.
A tall woman stood beside his bed. Dark hair framed a delicate face, pale blue eyes shining beneath bushy brows. She wore simple black clothing, cut low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. Her skin glowed faintly; when she spoke, her voice was soft, musical, almost hypnotic: “Are you ready, my love? Did you enjoy your first visit?”
He swallowed. “I…”
“Don’t worry, darling. There will be more where that came from. Much more.”
The End