Aëlífa (The Death of My Dreams)(part 6)

arthur.grafo (69)in #sfandf-fiction • 6 years ago

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Sylva wrote of hating me because of my long life expectancy. She did not consider what it will cost me. No one ever does, we each only see our own sacrifices and pain or what it is we wish for. She forgets that her pain will last for a shorter period than mine and what she loses once, I have done, thrice.

At the end, Rodney dug deep into his spirit and found the courage to be open with us. He had spent days and nights concentrating on experiencing love and the more greedily he reached out, the more difficult it was for Sylva and myself to pretend we could not sense his fear.

He pretended to only explain to Sylva, but he chose a time I was with them. “My love, try to imagine two floating balloons. Each of those balloons is a reality, an entire cosmos – universe. The image is too simple, for our realities are not neighbours, we are within each other, occupying the same space, well, simultaneously also neighbouring each other. Each reality is enclosed and the enclosure is what we would call an interface. The interface exists everywhere, for, if I trained, I could depart from here, from this chair. This applies because our realities occupy the same space – an endless string of realities occupy the same space.

As I also said, from a different perspective, we are like balloons floating next to each other. Generally, in nature, interfaces have two sides. We do not share an interface with any alternate reality, so it means there must be two sides and yet it feels like the interface only has one side when I crossover.

Scientists may scoff and it may not make sense, but I have created a theory that between our interface and all other interfaces, there is something without the qualities of space, let’s call it no-space. Since no interface can share with no-space, our interface must have only one side. This might explain how it is we can cross to alternate realities…since two or more interfaces not having an outer side, must act as if the inner side of the other interfaces are their outer side.”

I nodded. “You have done well. I had not understood what I was sensing, but now I think I am beginning to form an image. What convinces you the space between realities is non-space?”

“If there is even a space of one atom between realities, it would then mean each interface must have its own outer side, which then would make it impossible for us to travel across – especially in our bodies.”

I tried to imagine it and what he said felt right. I left it to Sylva to ask him the purpose of the lecture, but she did not, so he was forced to continue without a prompt.

“I have been troubled by a question I’ve also heard you ask. How is it we can translate from our reality to theirs and back? If we are to say we can do so because of a psychic gift, the question still remains, how do we arrive where and when, as we target? Perhaps my answer is too simple – but, what if it is our intention that affects our transfer? In other words, as we pass from our interface, we are not welcome in the in-between, our existence there is impossible, since in a manner of speaking it does not exist, so we must be sent somewhere...to the other side of the interface. The question is, to which outer interface?

Why are we not sent to some alternate reality at random? Why do we arrive where we wish to go and arrive there at more or less the time we wish to be? Unless all realities are constrained in some manner to obey some common time stream, which I do not believe, there must be some other determining factor. I call it ‘intent’. The Power of Intent.

The power is not solely ours. As our interface reacts to us and tries to send us beyond itself, it has to choose which second or outer interface of itself we should be sent to – to get rid of us. Because of our intent creating less resistance, it finds it easier to send us to whichever outer side of its interface we choose.”

Stunned, I stared at him. For an instant, I wanted to weep, so desperately needing my Aëlífa to share in my pride of our grandson. I came to my feet and turning my back to them, I went to stand by the window, staring out.

“How do you intend to use the knowledge?” I demanded.

“My intention is to war against the interface, refuse to allow it to send me anywhere.” I turned to stare at him and he nodded. “I have tried it. It rejected me, but I think it only succeeded because I was not determined to fight, just testing it. It took no energy, just some willpower.”

“And?”

“I have a feeling that no other shall succeed in transferring while I occupy the interface, affecting it.”

For a long moment there was silence, then Sylva asked, “Did you not say our reality is splitting billions of times per day? How can you block the interface if that is happening?”

“I will not be blocking all transfers, just those that wish to arrive at a specified reality.”

She shook her head. “Your theory is flawed, even if all you said is true, the…interface, it must be too fluid for you to affect more than a tiny spot in it. You are asking us to pay too high a price for such a trivial result.”

“I must try Sylva.”

Her face was pale as she asked, “For how long, my love? What happens to your body? Am I never to see you again? What about our child?”

“I do not know. It is likely I must try to keep it closed to them for a lifetime – their lifetimes. Or, they must know I hold them captive and they will have to negotiate with you.”

I asked, “If they do, how do I communicate with you?”

“All I can say is, try.”

I agree with Sylva. We argued for hours, perhaps we even shook his belief in his ideas, but he refused to change his mind, for we have no other option and not taking action, conceding defeat without any effort, it goes against the grain. I accepted it is his decision to make and returned to my home, for me to grieve in private at his pointless sacrifice.

This morning, half an hour after sunrise, I sensed he no longer exists in our reality.

What happened then shook me even more than my loss of my grandson. All I could do for many minutes, was stare and sob from the heart of my grief and shock.