The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  Greg tapped a flashing button on his panel and the ship rocketed away from the star. This time the G-force was felt; it squeezed every blood cell like a sat-on balloon. Even with gravity noise-cancellation at maximum there was no way to completely absolve the pressing force. Minuscule blood vessels popped in their eyes and breathing was tight. The ship neared light speed, and the gauge for it now read 0.98; almost solid white, with only an atomic tinge of green, it glowed brightly. And the ship was vibrating like Felix’s truck on the washboard dirt road. The warp factor gauge read: 3, and as the value continued to climb the graph its progress slowed. Numeration on the gauge went from 1 to 10 and the numbers nestled themselves closer together as they neared the top. The light speed gauge hit 0.99 and a green light illuminated atop the gauge: MAX. But the warp gauge continued its climb. Around them the stars were stretched from front to back, completely. They got brighter and thicker, coalescing with one another as the warp gauge continued its climb. And now, everything started to curve around the craft, making it feel like a racing bubble in an unreal cosmic distortion.

  The vibration ceased as they passed warp 4, just as Eddie had said it would. But, things got weird.

  “What’s that light ahead?” Amy asked to Greg, finally able to speak. But he was too busy keeping the ship on course, which seemed to get more difficult for him as the warp meter increased. He’d turned off the automation, as if, and perhaps, only a living being with a consciousness could navigate such distortions.

  Jim noticed that her voice sounded hollow. He also noticed his hands as he waved them side to side in front of his face. They moved like a film strip with a slow frame rate. Amy was studying herself as well, moving her arms in front of her face. The warp meter now read: 6.

  “W-h-a-t i-s h-a-p-p-e-n-i-n-g?” Jim asked, trying to get his words out. His thoughts were clear, unaffected, but his physical motions were choppy; even turning his head to Eddie seemed to flicker using less and less frames as the warp meter increased. Inside the ship, everything got bright.

  “I-t-s t-h-e S-u-n.” Eddie pointed directly ahead. His hand appeared to rise in three frames as he lifted it.

  The light got brighter. Could we be on a crash course into the sun? Jim wondered. His thoughts were clear, more so than ever, perhaps, but everything else was now exceedingly choppy. And it got even brighter still, so bright he could barely see Eddie sitting next to him; he resembled merely a white shadow. The warp gauge continued to creep: 8, 9—>10!

  Flash!

  A humming in my ears, high-pitched ringing from deep within my mind, bright white, blinding, but harmonious? A weird warbling hum is echoing within the ship like a constant pluck from the thick guitar string, the humming of physical matter, sounds, sights, smells, melds with the ringing in my conscious mind. I’m here…welcome…to nowhere. But nowhere is somewhere, it has to be. Nothing is something. Nothing never existed, I am the essence of nothing, which is, and always has been, something. It’s paradoxical, but inside this tunnel not completely. Only residual leaking from its edges graze me, a mere sample, a taste. I feel it on every level.

  I have an anxiety, that I do not like. Things are moving, faster, faster—inside my mind. It’s an eerie feeling. I know I’m not within the universe anymore, the entire thing—gone, it never existed, but it did, once. And now I know everything, but I also know that I won’t soon. No surplus can exit.

  So, I’m nowhere, but also, everywhere at the same time. But there is no time, no progression, or regression either, no direction, and especially no entropy.

  Flash!

  Where am I now? I’m in my apartment. I’m looking at Amy’s file. Day 1. I see myself from above yet from within during the same moment. I—I see my future and past. I feel my anger and seething hatred. I see time as peaks and valleys and this is a peak, the highest of them all. Tell myself, but how? What? Don’t get up. Tell myself what I know now. Who? Him, tell him. That’s me. I can—prevent… But how? Give him a sign! Stay there. Reach for it, quick make him look at the—

  Back.

  It’s, it’s too—it’s too bright. I am Jim—no I’m not. I am anxious, very. It’s haunting, tormenting me. A feeling—faster-and-faster, gnawing at my mind. I’m clawing, trying to reach for it, to grab it, reality. But, my arms aren’t moving. I can’t make them move. I want reality back!

  Wait—there’s a point straight ahead. Colorful walls, this tunnel has—if I make it so. Or, I can make it black, dark. I can change the edges. Make them swirly, paste photos onto the sides, memories. My consciousness, it can affect the edge of the wall just as the edge of the wall is revealing to me a sample of some sort of paradoxical material.

  I’m pulling at my face. No, I’m not. My arms still cannot move. The point ahead, I see it, but it didn't change, not ever and it won’t, forever timelessly it’s just a dot and we will never reach it. Wait—it is growing and we are getting closer. No, we’re already inside of it, but we’re also still here, still here in this, limbo. How is this possible? But I know, now, anything is possible. I do know it. The consciousness mixes with it—blends with that stuff out there. That’s how it all works. And my consciousness must choose, because I have that power.

  I choose…to get out, to enter it. Who said that! The chaos of my mind, scary, but revealing.

  Flash!

  A swimmer drowning and reaching for air, the surface—life. I—am—going—to—die!

  Flash!

  The darkness is coming, getting larger, and that point is sucking us through. A mutual decision, yes, that’s what it took! We all subconsciously agreed, but the choice had already been made before we entered. It’s growing, getting larger. I’ve never seen anything so black. The darkest entity imaginable, larger, encompassing. It’s…going…to…swallow…us. Nooooooo!

  FLASH!

  Greg said, “We’re in!”

  “Fuck!” Jim shook his head and took in a deep breath.

  “That was awesome!” Amy said. Equally freaked out, but in a good way. She loved it.

  Light, colors everywhere! A painter’s stew of every possible hue—swirling colors coated the glossy inner wall of a tube-like tunnel.

  “But I thought we were already in the…” Jim said, still shaking his head and blinking his eyes.

  “Jim that was like a, pre-tunnel, before the wormhole,” Eddie explained. The ship was silent and moving swiftly and smoothly now. It was easy to talk. “Imagine it like a…like a bungee cord. We had to break time and space. It is very elastic you know. The point, right as it breaks, that’s what you experienced. It gives you a little taste of… Well, you decide what it is.”

  It was enough information to stunt his brain—like a blender to the back of the neck, reeling on the spinal cord, extirpating grey matter. And he didn’t want to reply. Jim just examined the tunnel that surrounded them. He and Amy were in awe of its wall, both trance-like while Greg and Eddie managed some systems on their panels. Jim wiped the drool from both sides of his mouth.

  Except for being intensely more vivid, the walls of the tunnel reminded Jim of Jupiter's spot—before the probe of 2024 dissipated it causing riots within the science community. There were colors swirling about white glowing spots, congregating around and into them. It was difficult to tell how fast the ship was moving, and for a moment it even appeared to be stopped, or moving backwards. The only way to really tell was the tracking display on Greg’s panel. He glanced to see it. The gauge read: ZERO! What, we are sitting still?

  Greg brought up a new display, which likewise caught Amy’s attention. It was in 3D, a representation of a winding network of tunnels all tagged with very tiny yellow markers, and one was flashing. It had numbers on it. Coordinates perhaps? Their current position? He noticed Eddie typing something on his right. He was working with the same tunnel network on his small slide-out. He tapped his finger on a flashing tag and a whole series of tags expanded on both his and Greg's screens. Greg switched on the auto-pilot and the ship sped through the tunnel, now g
oing forward. Forward is good, Jim thought, any direction, just not back there. Things were smooth, and their minds snapped back into place.

  “Sorry, Jim,” Eddie said, pushing his screen away. He noticed Jim was a little distraught, but hanging in there. “We probably should’ve warned you. Hard to talk once we get moving past warp 6. Things get really choppy.”

  “It was fucking weird, Eddie,” Jim replied, returning to his old, new self. “I felt like I was in the light forever, and only a moment, both at the same time. Where are we now?”

  “That was the worst part of the trip, for some. Many, however, like it. Some call it the nowhere, others call it the somewhere, but this—this is the in between,” Eddie replied. “The swirls of light are the imprints of consciousness. Brighter culminating areas are most likely civilizations. We perceive the wall as a two-dimensional cylindrical slice as we glide through it, but it’s all multidimensional—we are in the wormhole now, Jim. It has a very solid edge so you don’t get any of that weird residual stuff.”

  “How do you know all this?” Jim asked.

  “We know a lot, almost—everything. We’ve explored other dimensions too. In some dimensions, there’s raw consciousness. We each have a piece; it’s the most beautiful substance imaginable. Like a galaxy is bright in the physical universe, there the consciousness is—” He paused. Jim looked confounded. Too much information. For now. “Well, you’ll get your chance, and really I’m not supposed to directly answer your questions—not yet.”

  Jim remembered Amy, and where they were headed. He saw her sitting, quietly.

  “Almost there, hang on,” Greg said. “Quick, Eddie can you confirm?” The exit appeared ahead and the ship was approaching it quickly. There were less colors on the edges of the wormhole now, even less as they neared it.

  “Yes, we’re right on track. Fifteen seconds,” Eddie replied. “Don’t worry, Jim, exiting is smooth. On my mark, in 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Exit!”

  Jim held his armrest so tight he crushed the cushion, destroying it, and his teeth were about to crumble under the hydraulic tension of his jaw muscles. Amy was tense but with a gleaming, open smile, with her head and neck back and her eyes wide open. The exit was radiant white, bright white, the whitest light fathomable, and Greg guided the ship smack into it. Jim sighed, releasing a deep breath. It was instantaneous. He was relieved they didn’t have to pass through the somewhere again.

  88. The Fall

  The ship rounded the cue ball—a white moon as glossy as glass—and a bright stream of glittering white sparkles animated the teal of its ten-thousand-mile arcing wake. The planet below came quickly. It was also smooth, a polished stone, save for deep claw marks banding its equator. And it seemed as though the hemispheres were two rhino-grey, bald men who’d gone butted faces to the death. Only two skull caps remained, joined by the destruction that had ensued. Remnants of some catastrophic event. The jagged gashes rapidly faded to fine lines as they banded their way toward the bald poles. Fine strings of red blotching the cracks made their destination appear torrid.

  The parent star was colossal, a blotchy blood-red giant with gaseous rings that went on forever. Had it had decimated a thousand Jupiters, flattening each to razor thin? The colors, banding layers of pastel brilliance in every possible hue, contradicted the gloomy world ahead, a desolate planet getting larger and more imposing by the second. The rings feathered their way to the outskirts of what seemed a void, slicing gas giants and brown dwarfs in half. Greg had the 3D layout of the solar system on the front and center panel. It was grand with thousands of planets, hundreds of thousands of moons, all enforcing a boundary not unlike that of the Jewel City perimeter ships.

  The landing gear extended and they hovered above a circular clearing near the equatorial crevasse. It was apparent. The spot had been used before; the area below had been blown clean. And Greg took it down. There was enough fresh stirring to reveal, sparkling beneath the red giant’s fiery gaze, traces of glimmering red ore hovering only a few feet above the ground; upon landing the dust fell as though it weighed tons.

  All four doors opened with a crack, followed by a pressure-releasing hiss. Eddie nodded to Jim: a nod of friendship, goodwill—and goodbye. And Jim, not knowing exactly why he chose to do it, shook his hand.

  The hull of the ship steamed like ice on fire. Amy hopped out, planting her feet on the marble-like ground. Gravity felt tight on every joint and she had to force her back straight. Happiness lingered from the adventurous flight, but at the same time the impending reality began to smother her. She raised her shoulders and shuddered, then crossed her arms. Jim quickly hopped off the wing and went to comfort her. This was not a scorching world as it had appeared from above; on the contrary it was downright chilly.

  The doors closed and the ship speedily rose into the air. Jim lunged for the wing—because the high gravity didn’t allow for much of a leap. He managed to grasp it but his fingers slipped off the icy surface.

  Greg’s voice came over a loudspeaker: “We’re sorry, Jim, Amy. We must go. We said our goodbyes at the mercado. Unfortunately, we cannot drag things out here. You must hurry.”

  “Goodbye again, Jim. Goodbye, Amy,” Eddie’s voice said.

  “You can’t just leave us like this!” Jim yelled. His voice sounded flat in the thin air.

  “Follow this path,” Greg instructed. A green laser discharged from the nose of the ship and pointed to highlight the direction. “And, Jim—this is not a high-level map. Time here is close to that on Earth, so you must act quickly. After it’s done, you will be logged out from here. Goodbye again.”

  “Wait—” Jim reached pointlessly, but the ship was gone. The thruster fired a moment later and it disappeared into the black void above. The space looked lifeless, largely devoid of stars, and equally, Jim possessed the same empty feeling. He kept looking up, procrastinating, hoping, but Amy was already headed down the path, walking quickly. He ran to catch up with her.

  “Amy, we can’t—”

  “It’s too late. We must hurry, Jim. The town is about to be destroyed. We might only have a minute.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Jim,” she said, walking even faster. “You think I’m a little girl? I might seem that way but I’m not. We made a decision and we’re sticking to it.”

  Jim stopped. He looked around. Nothing. They were utterly trapped, lost, abandoned, and had no choice. But maybe…

  Amy kept walking, then stopped again. She noticed he was still fighting it. “You grab your balls, Jim. Let’s do this. Now!” Even louder, she yelled, “Jim—I am ready! Like Greg said, and he was right, we already said our goodbyes. Why make things harder than they have to be? Now run!” Her voice no longer sounded flat in the curious, sterile atmosphere, it was robust with depth.

  Amy took off, sprinting down the path. Apparent now, it was a dead end, a cliff. Jim snapped out of it and ran behind her. He was scared. His heart pumped. Mister stability, tough-guy, things had always been relatively easy for him. He’d been in control for most of his life but surely not now. His fate was rolling out before him like a red carpet and he had no choice but to follow it, to keep up with her. Again, she was right. Dammit, why does she always have to be? The time had come to tread into the unknown. All the quotidian work, for years, mundane living to exist, just surviving, the lending that made it all possible—and this was it.

  Amy made it to the edge first, by far. She was lightning fast—thanks to a lesson from Nanny. Jim lagged, wheezing, but finally arrived. The air was thin, deathly, yet Amy seemed unaffected. Gazing down, she was hit with a breeze that chilled her eyes. The icy blast initiated a flood of tears but just as soon she wiped her face. She held herself poised. She was strong. She was resolute. There would be no more sadness. She had to believe something good, no, something great was going to come from this, from her life. Maybe, just maybe, she would live on, in some way. But she could think forever, guess, speculate—it wasted time.

  “What
is it?” Jim asked. The grey dust he’d stirred caught up with him, then fell. Scattering red sparkles danced about his feet, but returned to the world like magnets. He looked left, then right. What resembled claw marks from space were actually gouged-out, zebra-striped canyons outstretched for thousands of miles. An icy breeze streamed lightly against the edge, chilling his face as he looked over. He thought of the sombrero Felix had given him. Any hat would do right now. His bald head was frozen, as though the canyon’s rising breeze of air contained sticky molecules of liquid nitrogen. Amy shuddered but wasn’t letting it control her. She was adamant, resolved and ready to go—standing tall against the pressing gravity.

  “I love you, Jim. And thank you, for everything,” Amy said.

  He looked below, moving his head, squinting his eyes to see. His thoughts raced as though he’d binged on a thousand cups of coffee. He thought of the portal above the rapids in the fantasy world and hoped to find something that could catch her, anything. Then he saw. No! Bones littered the canyon, far below on an incongruent ledge, hundreds of them. Bleached-white skeletons, and none had a trace of flesh. But, how can that be… Wait! There could be life on this planet, Jim thought, a chance! He’d lost all lucidity now; it had been fading in and out, more out than in, like his mind, wobbling back and forth since he’d first logged in with her at the beach. Amy on the other hand, had never faltered. She was a rock, as lucid as could be, his much-needed but now unwanted crutch.

  “Amy—wait!”

  “We cannot wait!” She replied firmly and spoke quickly. “I want you to push me. And if you don’t, I will jump, but I would rather not do it myself—please, Jim.” He hesitated. He just couldn’t. Amy took a stance, then leapt.

  He caught her arm and easily stopped her, then clumsily turned her small body around to face him. “There might be life on this planet, Amy. Something on this devoid rock could be alive. Perhaps there’s a city! Something must’ve eaten the flesh from the bones, it’s just too cold for them to decompose by themselves.” He moved his head, searching, holding her tight.