Riding The Wave

Wave particle duality one more time opened the door, and I went inside. All around me this absolute void, an absolute nothingness. My mind had yet to create reality on a quantum level. It was terrifying just waiting to exist.

Then suddenly, I was naked and there was this scratching sound as a black cat appeared, his back arched as he scratched in an empty litter box. “You are Schrodinger's cat.” I said as he circled around me, starving for affection. I patted his head.

He looked like a big old tomcat to me. Who knew what he really was? There were intelligent things that lived within the wave and our mind conceived them in familiar patterns. “What's up cat?” I asked. “You're not alone in this big old house, are you?”

Our minds also make recognizable patterns of our surroundings. In this case it took the shape of a huge old castle. There was the stench of old horse sweat and the smoke from the cooking fire lingered in the air and then slowly rose above me and exited through the holes in the roof. The cat turned and spoke. “You are my guest; welcome to the wave.”

There were thick cobblestone walls, leaving stark shadows that contrasted with the blinding light. The portcullis loomed like the twisted teeth of some huge beast. I was surprised I was still alive. The last thing I remembered was falling for what seemed like forever and then I was in the wave.

In the wave, religion and science are one. The physical and the metaphysical are the same. If you think about it; it's already done. The teachings are very similar to the Old Testament. Maybe that was what all those ancient prophets were trying to tell us? It only took humanity a couple of thousand years to come to the exact same conclusion.

Sometimes late at night, when the wave was quiet and others slept, I surfed it. The traveler in me allowed me not only to enter the wave but to alter it if need be. I was a wave mechanic, the name taken from Earth's ancient nuclear era, a time when the human race played with the fire of physics like a toddler with a hot stove.

In the quantum realm we take on many personas. Once I was hosted by a goldfish. Another time a ball of light. Suddenly I heard someone screaming and somebody else crying. There was a boy behind me, and he was all curled up in a ball. At the top of the stairs in front of me appeared a woman scowling down at him. She turned to me abruptly in a jerky motion, bordering on digital. “You have no business here; you are a mechanic,” she said.

“I am.” I replied.

She was an evil looking woman with a pointed face that looked like a shrew, with long gray oily looking hair that clung to the sides of her ugly face. She reminded me of both my Father and my

Mother. “I am only an observer,” I assured her I can't change a thing.”

On a subatomic level down at the Planck time and length, 1.616x 10 – 35 meters and below. A place where common math can no longer apply. The space between objects is enormous. Like a marble in a gymnasium. Breaching the comatose exclusivity of when atoms collide. Close to absolute zero, and surrounded by the duality of light, I could return to the macro world and end her wave. Other words. destroy her ass. She was tormenting a child, and no matter what it really was, as a mother I detested it. I turned suddenly and gazed past the child into another huge room. It contained a young woman bound in a wood chair with leather straps binding her wrists and ankles. “Why do you do this?” I asked her.

The woman slowly looked up at me with black hollow eyes and cupped the empty air. It glittered like the stars in the sky all charged Socratic energy, and then she flared and disappeared. I was stunned. I had just observed a quantum leap. The woman had been hoarding energy while absorbing more and it had boosted her to another level. She had gone from an S orbital to a P right before my very eyes.

An example in the macro world would be death. That person no longer exists in our orbital. But the fact that I could be there at all was a form of what Albert Einstein referred to as spooky action at a distance, or entanglement.

The woman was still yelling at the child and her voice was ringing in my head. “Stop it!” I screamed. By just being there I was reshaping it and changing its final outcome. The wave was adapting to me as I observed it. It was like stepping outside and the weather changing just for me. As Paul Simon once said. “I got a Nikon camera. I love to take a photograph.”

I looked up at a dismal night sky as the ceiling vanished before my eyes. A bitter cold wind blew through the place. It howled and whined. I knew I could change it at will, but I liked it. There was evil here. A negative charge to the air. Nowhere else to turn I proceeded down a long dark corridor towards what appeared to be the rear of the building. It was an abandoned castle with holes in the walls and gnarled roots sticking up out of the floor. Suddenly there was this horrible screeching sound metal on metal, and it sent shivers racing up and down my spine. The longer I stood there the more the fear built up in me. I felt like I was a small lost child. There was a certain melancholy that lingered here within these ruins, and it was terrifying. It was time to return home. All I had to do was will it and the Traveler, which was part AI and was implanted in my cerebral cortex would reboot and bring me home.

Okay, nothing was happening.

I just stood there as smoke circled around me from the fireplace. My mind was not making this reality.

I had no time for this. In fact, at the Planck scale, I had no time at all. Something was probing my consciousness, clouding my mind. Suddenly it came out of the darkness. Eyes appeared in waves like red silk, and I heard water running. Before I knew what was happening, I walked into the dark room where the woman had been bound but the chair was empty. I was frightened but I pretended to be calm. Always the Traveler in me had been in control but not this time. Whatever it was it used the dimensions of the void, all eleven of them, to create a crack in which to slip through.

All of a sudden, this all-encompassing mind created a dense forest all around me. As I looked, I saw the ruins of what might have been a great civilization. A memory stored somewhere in my DNA that had been extracted and fed to my conscious mind.

The boy stood at the border of where the firs met the glade. Waist high in the blue grass of my home state Kentucky. “What are you?” I asked him as I approached.

“I am the soul-pact. The border between the material and the spiritual.”

“I don't understand.” I said.

He twinkled like a million stars in the sky and replied. “Your kind can not afford to be so ignorant. If you wish to be a part of the fundamentals you must understand the very nature of things.”

Tears suddenly filled my eyes and I dropped to my knees. Unable to look at him I looked at the ground. “Are you God?” I sobbed. “Are you the creator? Did you create me?”

His body suddenly turned into a bright red mist, and he replied. “No, in fact you created me in order to understand the four combined forces of the universe. Your kinds call them, gravity, electromagnetism, the weak interaction, and the nuclear force. I am all of these just like the father, son, and holy ghost in your primitive beliefs. I am the cat, the child, and the mother. I am everything you have seen here and some you have not. So at the risk of repeating myself I will tell you once again. “You do not belong here because this is where reality ends and creation begins.

THE END

Bio: Timothy Wilkie is a local hero in the Hudson Valley. From his music to his art and storytelling. He's an old hippy and a storyteller in the truest sense of the word. He has two grown sons and loves to spend time with them. His writing credits include Aphelion, Horror-zine, Dark Dossier and many more.

E-mail: Timothy Wilkie

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