Chapter III, pt. iii

At first, everything went white.





Snow blindness, the roar of white noise, white heat, white taste, white smell.


Then, everything got jumbled. All senses became indistinct. A bitter white sameness that enveloped his world.



The cacophony brought with it a new thing, five together made one, then five plus one made six, and more still. A maddening exponential rush of sameness and oneness and novelty. Eventually, the whiteness surrendered shapes, textures, scents, flavors, colors that were all together, the one thing, then more. Sensations that stood alone and flooded in and out of each other. He became every sound, every scent, every flavor, every sight, every surface, then went deeper than the surface, beyond. He experienced the ’Om’ and was one with the all. He was man. The first man, the only man, every man, woman and child.
At first, he tried to orient himself in the universe. Then, he rearranged the universe again and again, never quite getting it right the way it was. How could he get his bearing when he walked on smells, stood on tastes and breathed every sound?
Had the chip held him back so much or had he come to his new place in the universe by will alone? If so, could every man, woman and child reach his state of higher being or was it his experience, alone? How did Marsh know about the chip?
Every moment, every desire, every experience was now his for the asking. Do everything could be done. Realize every thought could be thunk. Every question was his to ponder and marvel. But he did not have every answer. He did not want all the answers, he was only human after all, only human. Existence was an apple, who to share it with?
Red tic tac in his palm. Oh yeah, the chip. What to do with the chip? He could smash the tiny thing into a thousand other, smaller, things. Maybe he could will it out of existence, watch it pop back into nothingness where it came from.
Pop back into nothingness where it came from … curious.
No, he thought, perhaps I’ll keep it. Something intrinsically human in him was glad to know he could still organize his thoughts into words.
Leah is here. She has always been here. She betrays him. He dies. She dies. Here they meet for the first time. Damn, she’s hot. They have always been here, right now, right then, this moment.
She starts to speak.
“You’re bleeding,” he says it for her, only, more serenely. “You’ve hurt yourself. What is this? This isn’t funny. Oh my God. You’re scaring me. Stop it. Stop it.”
“Stop it,” Leah screams. Hers is the face of betrayed confusion. Her thoughts have betrayed her.
He knows he can share the experience with her. As a matter of fact, he already has, just a few moments from now.
At first, he had trouble getting his own words out of his mouth, “Eeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwlllllllllll … Leah.” His eyes rolled slightly into the back of his head. “He’s fainting,” he said without difficulty. “Ssssssss-s-s-s … sorry. AAAAaaahhhhhhhhh … I know you don’t like that.” His fingers contracted into claws, “Lll-let me … let me help you … let me help you look into my mind, as I can look into yours.”
The last thing she remembered was backing slowly out the kitchen door.




At first, everything went white for her …