Disclaimer: George Lucas and T.S. Eliot could rule the world together. Sadly, I am neither one of these people, and their works belong solely to them.
Author's Note: I've had a crazy low month as far as inspiration goes, so I was quite shocked (and pleasantly surprised) the other night when my muse decided to drag me along for this ride. Another dedication to the wonderful LASOS, for the title, the family heritage (from which she gets her mad skills), and the courage to post once again.
White Noise
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
-T.S. Eliot
There is no sound in space.
The infinite reaches of the universe are assembled in a void; a vacuum where matter, dark matter, and antimatter, dance together in a swirling ubiquitous blanket that penetrates everything, everyone, everywhere. But this dark ballet of omnipotence and grace has a cost, and the price is
Nothing.
Silence.
Vibrations are an inescapable consequence of existence. Every atom, every particle, every Alderaanian prickly pear—vibrates. She knows this from the molecular physics class she took when she was fifteen. The vibrations of a molecule are passed along through matter, carried in compressed waves, sent out like a ripple in all directions. If there is no matter, the vibrations die, die, die. And the only remaining sound is
Nothing.
Silence.
The Maker of the universe is a cruel being in her eyes. He is the creator and destroyer of worlds, and in the science of the cosmos that He has built, He will take away the last taste of justice she could ever hope to have in this moment. He will take away the sound of death. And in its place, there will be
Nothing.
Silence.
She is vibrating. Limbs shaking, head swaying, teeth chattering vibrations. She is not silent. She makes sound.
It's not the sound she wants to hear, however. And as she tries to pull away from the cold, black, hollow man caging her in, she already knows what's coming. And she already knows what isn't.
Between the green flash
And the white cloud
Falls forever.
And then, in a moment so fleeting that surely no one life could turn upon it, two billion people become one with the universe, their molecules vibrating in absence of their screams. She leans forward and waits, because though she has always been guilty of rationality, she prays that just this once, rational is wrong.
She tilts her head to the side…
Nothing.
Silence.
It's the loudest thing she's ever heard.