I feel like I'm exploding. Everything is disintegrating all around me and inside me. I have become utterly disconnected from my previous reality, when I was high school biology teacher Andrew Matheson, innocently trying out Aaron Mackenzie's "Fun House."
Andrew Matheson is gone. Whoever or whatever I am now is without form or substance. I look down where my feet used to be, in the direction of the black hole at the center of this sphere. My perspective instantly changes—I am inside the black hole, and the entire universe spreads out before me, a boundless panorama of light and dark.
The entire universe spreads out before me, a boundless panorama of light and dark.
Oh, I understand now! At last I see everything! Thank you, Aaron Mackenzie, for inviting me to experience the Small Singularity Generator. I am transformed, my friend. I will live here forever, exploring all the realities that are or were or will be, learning and growing inside so many dimensions—flying, dancing, laughing, dreaming—peacefully, blissfully, radiantly, buoyantly awake.
In the blink of an eye (ha ha—as if I still possessed any of those antiquated corporeal "seeing apparatuses!") I travel one billion light years in this direction and ten thousand time years in that direction. I discover a sparkling little planet where crystal blue waves break with joyous laughter upon endless stretches of golden beaches. I soar inland on the wings of imagination to a mountain forest. I stop to take a refreshing drink of cool water from a gurgling brook.
I begin to chuckle at myself, since I have become a spirit being no longer needing drinks of water, when—hold on now—to my surprise, I find I have a new body! Hmm. This body is strong and fast. It can jump to the top of this mountain, then dive down to the bottom of that ocean.
I look with my new eyes to the horizon. Atop a distant ridge line I see a beautiful stone building, complete with marble columns all around. It looks like a temple or sacred monument. I jump toward it with my strong new legs, and it only takes me three medium-sized jumps before I am standing in front of it, peering inside through the welcoming open doorway. I enter the stone building.
Inside, I find a richly-carpeted great room with an enormous fireplace at one end, complete with crackling fire. The room is unoccupied. I wonder who started the fire? Should I be concerned they might return soon? No, not necessary—somehow I know the fire starter is friendly.
A large dining table in the room's center is filled with succulent-looking dishes of food, and I realize my new body has a healthy appetite. Is this wonderful meal for me somehow? Perhaps to share with the fire starter? Hmm. Better not sample anything until I have permission.
At the other end of the room stands a long, high table, brightly illuminated by two reading lamps. There is a hefty leather-bound volume opened on the tabletop, and an old-fashioned writing pen and inkwell placed nearby. I am drawn to the open book. It seems to be a journal or logbook of some sort. I can see someone has written on the open pages. Curiosity overcomes me, and I look closer to see if I can make out what it says.
I gasp audibly at what I see. That's my handwriting! I flip back to earlier pages, and page after page—the whole book so far!—is filled with what is unquestionably my handwriting! I turn to the first page of the book and begin reading. And as I read, I gasp once again.
I've written, "Welcome, Andrew, to your home in the inter-dimensional super-reality. I have constructed this stone basilica for your use whenever you want. There are many planes of existence within the super-reality, and some contain great dangers, but you will always be safe here within these walls. Furthermore, I've written this journal in my own hand to inform and better equip you for the struggle ahead. Be courageous! The adversary is cunning and strong, but she can be overcome..."
Before I can read another word, I feel a sharp jolt and find myself back in my old body, standing on a grated platform at the very top of a sphere, wearing a strange anti-gravity suit, and feeling more than a little bit disoriented. And nauseated.
Now I hear Aaron Mackenzie speaking through the headphones in the anti-gravity suit. "SSG shutdown complete. Total duration of sequence, 200 milliseconds. No anomalies here. George, Barbara, how 'bout you guys?" I don't hear a reply, but maybe that's because I'm distracted thinking about not getting sick inside this anti-gravity suit. Aaron continues. "Nothing? Okay, looks like a good sequence, then." And now to me, "Well, what did you think, Andrew?"
And though I feel like I'm about to blow chunks everywhere, I manage to choke out weakly, "Yup, it's good. When can I go again?"
TO BE CONTINUED...
(Image courtesy of wix.com.)