by J. R. Rain
I knew what I was doing was crazy. I had even done the research. I knew how fast I had to fly to break free of the Earth’s gravity.
26,000 miles an hour.
I didn’t know how fast I could actually fly, of course. My guess was maybe a thousand miles an hour. Maybe more, maybe less.
Then again, I had never tried to fly at top speed, whatever that might be.
Well, I was about to find out.
Crazy, I thought, even as I beat my wings faster and faster. Hummingbird fast. A blur of wingtips that I could see out of the corners of my eyes.
Nuts, just nuts.
No way could I fly that fast.
No way.
But maybe.
Just maybe.
Of course, I knew there was a very strong probability that I would die. That something very bad could happen as I tried to escape Earth’s atmosphere.
Except, I knew that this creature’s hide was thicker and stronger than the tiles that protected the various space shuttles. Also, this creature didn’t need to breathe. The vacuum of space, I suspected, would pose little problem in that area.
Besides, I suspected that this hideously beautiful creature that I had transformed into would be just fine in space. How I knew this, I didn’t know. Then again, how I turned into a giant flying beast, I didn’t know either.
But I somehow knew that this creature could easily handle the rigors of space. Even more, that it was perfectly adapted for space. Which begged the question again: where exactly did it originate from? I didn’t know, but I hoped to someday find out.
I figured that for a creature who could come in and out of our reality, hop from dimension to dimension, world to world at a moment’s notice, and take a quick jaunt to the moon, shouldn’t pose a problem.
Or so I hoped.
I was now higher than I’d ever been before. My guess, maybe 50,000 feet up, higher than most commercial jets flew.
This is insane, I thought.
It was, of course, all the more insane because I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t have any precedent, nothing to base the outcome on.
Just my gut.
Or rather, the creature’s gut.
Which got me thinking: did it need to eat? If so, what did it eat?
Who are you? I suddenly thought.
There was, of course, no response. Who or what or even where this creature was summoned from, I didn’t know, but I suspected the Highly Evolved Dark Masters—those entities that fueled creatures like vampires and werewolves—would know. More important, they had something to do with it. And it occurred to me then, as I flew higher and higher and as the Earth slipped farther and farther below me, that the creature itself had taken a sort of back seat to allow me in.
He’s here, I thought. Watching me, observing me, wondering what I will do next with his body.
Was he a sentient creature? As in, could he rationally think? Was he intelligently aware?
Can you hear me? I asked it.
No answer. Still, I thought he was there, listening, alert, curious. All were aspects, of course, of a thinking, intelligent, sentient being.
He’s not a monster, I thought. Then directed my thoughts to him: You’re not a monster.
There was no reply, nor did I expect there would be. To date, I had transformed into this winged nightmare countless times. Never once had we communicated. To be fair, I’d only recently learned that it was being summoned to here from another reality. What reality? Where?
Crazy, I thought. Everything is just so damn crazy.
And yet, this winged creature that I had become projected a sense of serenity, greatness, and perfection in its own way. It maneuvered beautifully, flew powerfully, and had instantly given me access to how to do it all.
I saw the logic to that. Had I been anything other than an expert, I might just have damaged this beautiful creature. Perhaps worse than damage...possibly even destroy it.
So, I had instantly, instinctively known how to fly, to maneuver, to land, and everything necessary to stay airborne and safe.
And to keep him safe.
But how did it all work?
After all, I summoned him often with little notice. Was he, say, flying serenely over whatever faraway world he lived in, happy as a giant winged clam, when he was suddenly summoned here?
Summoned by me?
That didn’t seem right.
Is that what happens? I asked now, as I angled up through the heavens—as the wind buffeted me, slipped over me.
Still, no response. Nor did I expect there to be.
And where was the demoness who lived within me? Did all three of us share this current winged body? And for that matter, where did my cute little 5’3” body go?
Good question, I thought.
The higher I got, the more powerful I seemed to get, too. Wind thundered over me, a constant howl. I was no longer a mother, a sister or a private investigator. I was a flying machine, a thing that matched wits with the heavens...and won.
Can we do this? I asked the creature within me, the creature who had taken a back seat to me and let me drive.
There was no response...and if there had been, I probably wouldn’t have heard it, anyway.
Response or nor response, I felt as if I could continue on...for eternity.
It’s him, I suddenly thought. He’s giving me these feelings.
Also, I was sure it was a him. After all, I had gotten a masculine impression from him.
So, you’re a boy monster? I asked.
Still no response.
Still, I flew.
I beat my wings—his wings. I beat them steadily, powerfully, confidently. And faster. Always faster and faster.
In fact, I felt I should beat them harder and harder. I was being propelled. By him. He was prompting me.
As I beat my wings faster than I’d ever done before, I became aware of one thing and one thing only: I could fly as fast as I wanted. There was no limit to this winged creature who defied space and time and gravity, this beautifully horrific entity that was not of this earth.
Faster. I had to go faster.
I thought of my kids, my family, my job. I had cases on my desk that needed attention. What was I doing? This was crazy. I was crazy. Except...except that I knew it wasn’t so crazy. Ever since I knew I could fly, I wanted to fly to the moon.
I wanted to test the boundaries of what I was, and what I could do.
And yes, I was a little crazy, too.
True, sometimes I really thought I had gone insane. Some days, I was certain I was babbling incoherently in a funny farm, surrounded by padded walls.
Are you there? I suddenly thought
I’m here, Samantha. The voice was deep, hesitant, and almost shy.
No, I thought, it’s neither of those.
The voice was...distant. As in, it came from deep within my thoughts. Deeper than anything I had yet encountered.
No, that wasn’t true. I had delved deep into Russell Baker’s subconscious, hadn’t I? Yes, I had. His real self had been buried deep beneath what could only be called an “enchantment.” Or rather, an inadvertent enchantment. But that was another story for another time.
Where do you come from? I asked.
I come from neither here nor there.
What does that mean?
Nothing, actually, I’m still trying on your language for size. Perhaps that wasn’t the best expression to use.
Maybe it was. I thought. Except I don’t know exactly what you mean.
I’m still playing with your language. Your concepts, forgive me.
Forgiven, I thought. And quite frankly, you speak English very well.
Actually, I “think” English very well. Mostly I’m drawing from your knowledge of the language. We have after all, been connected for a very long time now.
Why haven’t we spoken until now?
You tell me, Samantha.
I thought about that as I flew faster and faster. Higher and hi
gher.
I guess I didn’t understand who you were or what you were. Or are. I guess I still don’t.
Perhaps that makes two of us, Samantha.
You don’t understand what’s happening to you, either?
Yes and no. I understand that a part of me is summoned here, into your world.
Just a part of you?
Yes, Sam. Mostly, I stay in my world.
I don’t understand.
In a way, I don’t either. But I’m trying to. Every time I’m summoned by you, I think I understand a little more.
Help me understand what you understand, I thought. Please.
Where would you like for me to begin?
I thought about that as the icy wind thundered over me. Or over us. I didn’t know.
I thought: Where do you come from? You said “your world.” Where is your world?
Ah, yes, my world. It’s not very different from your own, Samantha.
We don’t have giant flying bats!
Perhaps not, but you have giant other creatures, sea creatures. Any number of which would be far greater in size than me. Your giraffes and elephants would “raise eyebrows,” as you would say.
How do you know our expressions and idioms? How do you “think” in English?
We are one, Sam. In this form, at this moment, we are one.
Fine, I thought. Tell me more about your world.
There are many like me.
Giant, scary-ass flying bats?
The voice inside my head chuckled lightly. Yes, something like that.
Are there humans?
Yes, Sam.
I want to go to this place, I thought.
I figured you might.
Because you know me so well?
I felt a smile appear in my thoughts. Something like that.
I’m fascinated by your world.
I imagine you are, Samantha.
I have a million questions...
But one of them is more pressing than the others, correct?
Correct, I thought.
You want to know how I appear in your world.
Yes.
That’s the million-dollar question, Sam.
You mean you don’t know?
No, Sam.
But...how do you appear in my world?
You know how, Sam.
I thought about that as I continued angling up through the atmosphere, higher and higher.
I summon you, I thought.
True. I do know one thing, Sam.
What’s that?
I know I don’t fully leave my world, and that I am, in fact, in two different worlds at the same time.
I don’t understand.
Neither do I, Sam.
What are you doing, presently, in your world?
I’m sitting on a ledge, overlooking our cities.
You have cities?
Not like yours, Sam. But in a way, yes. “Cities” is the best way to describe where I live.
I wish to see your cities.
I know, Sam.
How would I do that?
You don’t know?
Know what?
You’re there now, Sam, with me...
* * *
The Earth receded, far below.
Up here, there was only darkness. Up here, there wasn’t much separating me from the stars. No, that wasn’t true. There was something very significant: there was the Earth’s atmosphere. That which held the Earth together; that which kept us all bound together. Earthbound.
We are sitting together on a ledge? I asked after a moment.
In a way, Sam. An aspect of you is with me. A soul fragment, if you will.
That makes no sense.
Then let me try again. We are all souls, Sam. Some older than others. Some further along on our journeys. We each come from the mind of God. I believe you understand this.
I do, I thought. I think.
You do, he thought. I see you have more than sufficient understanding of the One concept.
We are all One, I thought. Because we are all from the same source.
Yes, he thought. Good. As souls, as children of the one source, the Creator, if you will, we can do many wondrous things. Your world is only now beginning to discover such things, but mostly, you will deny yourselves your birthright. Or, as we call it, your soulright.
You’re talking about miracles, I said.
Much more than miracles, Sam. But, yes.
And your world is further along than our world? I asked.
In a nutshell, yes. You see, we understand that we are much more than our physical bodies. We also understand that we can be in two different places at once. Or more.
More?
Yes, Sam. The soul is limitless, as is the Creator.
And if we are part of the Creator...
Then we, too, are limitless.
But why do we limit ourselves? I thought. Why do we accept our current state?
That is for your world to figure out, Sam.
And your world figured this out?
We did. Many millennia ago.
And what did you do with this information? I asked.
We flew, Sam. We grew wings and built cities in the sky. We removed poverty and disease and war and hate. We removed death.
You are immortal?
Yes, Sam. If we choose to be.
I want to see this world, I thought.
Then open your eyes, Sam.
I don’t know how, I thought.
So be it, then.
No, wait. I want to know how. I want to see your cities.
Before me, hovering brilliantly in the sky, was the full moon. It seemed bigger than I had ever seen it before. It should be bigger. I was, after all, closer to it than I had ever been before.
As I flew, I felt a sudden truth spread through me, and as it did, I felt myself nodding. Yes, the great head of the beast I had become nodded, too.
I have to first believe I can fly to the moon, I thought, before I can believe I can see your world.
They are, as your world calls it, baby steps.
It’s a helluva baby step, I thought.
Not as hard as you think, Sam.
I would have to break through our atmosphere. We would have to break through it, flying faster than any creature has ever flown before, or could ever fly. Defy gravity.
You are speaking truths, Sam.
But you just said that, as sons and daughters of the Creator, we can do anything.
I did.
But how? How do I fly fast enough to break out of our atmosphere? And once done, how do I fly through the vacuum of space?
How indeed, Sam.
Then once in space, how do I survive reentry? I mean, iron-ore comets burn to dust while entering our atmosphere.
Indeed, he thought. And I see that you’ve been doing your research.
I Googled it, I thought, wondering briefly if the creature I had become knew what Google was.
I do, Sam. We are more connected than you know.
Of that I had no doubt, and as I flew, as I studied the glowing moon before me, I began to see the absurdity of all of this. I had kids far below. I had a parent/teacher conference in two days. I had a client meeting tomorrow with a man who, of all things, claimed his wife had disappeared off the face of the Earth.
We’ll see about that, I thought.
I had no business being up here. I had no business dreaming of the moon. And why did I dream of the moon anyway? What was the point?
There wasn’t a point. I had no reason to want to fly to the moon, to imagine soaring over its bleak and uninhabitable landscapes, to soar over its craters and crags and valleys and steppes.
And yet...
Yet, I did. I very much wanted to.
I thought about it often. Indeed, I often imagined myself flying to the moon...and leaving all my troubles behind. I had no reason to think this. It made no sense.
It makes more sense than you give it credit, Sam.
/>
I considered his words as I flew now just below what I knew to be the outer limits of the atmosphere. I knew this because the oxygen was scarce and ice had long ago formed on my wings. In fact, great chunks of it broke loose and cascaded down into the night as I flapped.
Yes, I wanted to do it. Simple as that.
But it was, of course, impossible.
Oh? thought a voice inside my head, a voice that was either myself or the beast I presently inhabited. Or maybe a little of both. And you know this how?
Truth was, I didn’t know if it were impossible or not. I truly didn’t know the limitations of the creature I had become.
I wasn’t sure how fast I was going, but it was certainly faster than I had ever gone before. Still, not fast enough to break from the Earth’s gravitational pull.
Probably not, Sam.
Then what’s my answer?
But he didn’t respond and I knew it wasn’t his job to provide me with the answer.
Can you maybe give me a hint? I thought.
What makes you think I have the answer, Sam? I am but a simple giant bat.
I nearly laughed. I doubted the creature I had become could actually produce the sound of laughter. More than likely, it would have come out as a high-pitched screech.
The answer. I thought about that as I flapped harder and harder, flew faster and faster. I suspected my job wasn’t to know the answer. I suspected my job was to simply...believe.
How I would get to the moon, I didn’t know. How I would navigate through the vacuum of space, I didn’t know that, either. Hell, how I would even return to Earth again, was beyond me, too.
But I knew the answers would come.
And they would come soon.
They had to.
* * *
Far, far below, through the cloud cover and smog, I saw city lights twinkling. No, I didn’t know where I was, exactly. And no, I didn’t know the names of cities below. But an inner guidance system told me exactly how far I was from home, and how exactly to get home again.
Pretty cool, I thought.
Yes, I am, came the voice.
I smiled as I flew—and considered everything I’d been told tonight, and as I did so, one thing became abundantly clear: I was in two places at once. And perhaps even three.