The Shout That Buzzed Their Hearts Full of Solace
When Rachel Buchanan arrived home on a crisp Saturday midnight, when the road had long gone quiet and the street lamps buzzed insistently, her husband, James Buchanan, saw the the multiple loose buttons on her shirt along with her smeared lipstick and subsequently dragged her by the brown locks of her hair into the patchy yard, all the while she kicked and screamed, threw her to the pavement, and beat her to death next to the black Nissan Altima.
The two had been happily married for ten years, passing vacations every summer on the beaches of Malibu and outbacks of Virginia. They even owned a small ranch down in Texas, passed down from James' father, to where they would flee as the first pricks of winter made their hairs stand on edge. Their honeymoon was spent holding hands in the gondolas of Venice and exploring the ancient Greek structures of Athens. In their bedroom, on the nightstand, there was a photo of the two standing in front of the Parthenon, but at dinner parties James would always call it the Pantheon because his memory was rather short-lived.
So when the cops arrived at the suburban neighborhood about ten miles outside of New York City, and when they came upon the swollen, beaten, and bloodied face of Rachel Buchanan, someone who had been married to James for ten whole years, they were appalled. Before they cuffed and shoved him into the backseat of the car, the cops noticed how James shook and caressed the face of his now dead wife, crying out the same thing over and over again as he sat on the curb, "I loved her. God I loved her so much. Rachel, I love you."
The breathalyzer test came back that James had been drinking, and while Rachel had been out fooling around with another man, James got off with manslaughter. After serving ten years at the Five Points Correctional Facility, James left for his ranch in Texas to live a secluded life in his later years and hopefully publish his first book. Writer's block greeted him with open arms. On July 2nd, 2068, at the age of 75, James loaded a revolver with a single bullet. When the authorities found his body, bits of skull and brain splattering the long horns of a bull skull trophy in his office, it was next to a bright computer screen with an open document that read, "Why did I do it? Because I loved her! I hated her too, but only because I loved her! Why did I do it?..."
Several star systems away, on the cusp of the outer ridge of the Lyra constellation, feet dangling over the edge of an asteroid and being grazed by the solar flares of a blue giant, sat Amor and Amores. They were nude, but frost and heat did not destroy their skin. They wore no suits, but breathed freely in the vacuum of space. Amor and Amores were not living beings, but simply amalgamations of emotions that lingered beyond time, between the fabrics of reality, in the before and after; being channeled in one place, on the asteroid, yet being everywhere, everywhen. Despite their ethereal forms they could exist and function in the material world. Amor toyed around with his proton rifle while Amores carefully took aim towards the milky way and fired his, shouting like a child that had shot their first rabbit on a hunting excursion.
"I got another!" Amores pumped his fist in the air, spun in a circle, and collapsed onto his elbows as he peered curiously at Amor.
Amor, who continued to play with the trigger mechanism on his rifle, spoke. "That makes, what, thirtyseven in the last ten minutes?"
Amores giggled, "Thirty-eight, actually! What about you?"
"Twenty-two," Amor muttered.
"I win! I win, I win, I win, I win!"
"Hey," Amor exploded, "That's not fair! My rifle broke!"
"Want a rematch?"
"Fine."
The two brothers - who were not real brothers - stood and raised their weapons to the stars, to the planets far away, to the rapidly expanding horizon of the universe, where they wove new stories. Pling. Pling. Pling. The shots echoed into the distance.
They were not brothers in their minds, but they were brothers in the minds of them. Them is how they referred to the inhabitants of the universe, the sentient beings that physically manifested in this reality; the others. Them had many names for Amor and Amores, many entities that were like the two, yet not the two. Even the emotions of the beings that had birthed them did not follow an absolute consensus, only general interpretations. Two young, naked males with wings that stretched and spread into a graceful van. One was hot headed. The other gleeful. Both were children.
After their charade was done, they collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion.
Amor said, "I won that time."
"How do you know?" Amores asked.
"I counted both of our shots."
"Liar."
"I had forty five. You had thirty nine."
Amores stuck his tongue out at Amor, "Whatever."
The two sat in silence for some time, following paths of distant comets, hands resting on the back of their heads.
Amor interrupted the cosmic peace, "Do you ever wonder where they go?"
"The ones affected by the beams? I've heard they have expiration dates."
"Yes, but do they stay together."
"I'm sure they go to many places. Experience many things. Longing, desire, loneliness, lust. All together. That's why they call me Amores. Together."
"Sometimes I wonder what our job is if they don't even stay together."
"What do you mean?"
Amor brooded, "We weave and we sow them together, but does that give them any agency? My name is Amor. It is a lonely emotion. Isolated. We are different, you and I, yet we partake in the same endeavor."
A large strand of blue fire erupted beneath them, snaking its way out from the star like a person reaching for the sky. The gas continued to twist and tangle, intertwining itself over numerous magnetic fields releasing another bundle of radiation outward. After its anger subsided, the sun spot calmed down, returning to its dark shade.
Amores huffed, "I admit it. You're better than me. You've always been better than me."
Amor looked at Amores in shock, "What?"
"I only understand putting them together. You understand them apart. I suppose we are different in that regard."
The two returned their gaze to the star before them, Vega. It was said to be the fifth most visible star in the night sky of a far distant place called Earth. That's why they made their outpost there; no one would notice the excess protons, as they would simply blend into the visible spectrum of Vega like a person stepping into a moving crowd, instantly lost in the sea of people. A voice reverberated off the null space of Amor's head.
Amor turned to Amores, "Did you hear that?"
"What?"
"Something great."
Across many times, in worlds far and vast, there is an accumulation of sentiments and grievances. They weigh on the atoms around them, beneath even the smallest particles of taus and muons, rubbing against the lowest part of reality like accumulating matter in the bottom of a beaker. There, these emotions of everything that has ever lived, lives, or will live, greet each other, swirling into an amorphous mass: Brahtholikos- the regions where feelings are palpable. The exoskeleton of thoughts creates an intricate web that stretches and bends, developing the surrounding area, weighing down on the backs and shoulders of those who live and cross the inhabited lands of these zones. They are the tiniest particles not found by any kind of science since they are not particles. They have no mass, only existing in the hearts and minds of others. Forever have, forever now, forever will. The jigsaw puzzle of eternity.
On a lush, fertile planet near the epicenter of the Andromeda galaxy, the albatross sat in its nest. Just like on Earth, the species that had come to take over the planet named the creature an albatross because, just like humans, the psychologies wrapped and looped in certain places, creating crossovers where ideas, phrases, and terms were kept even when these two races, from entirely different parts of the universe, had never met. The bird's male mate sat across from it.
A searcher drone buzzed overhead. Quickly, the two albatrosses lowered their heads. They could not let the others see them, see their love, take it for themselves, like what had happened with their other relatives; they would take everything. In the most recent years Them began zapping the birds out of the sky, taking them to be liquidized for eventual transportation. They would steal them, rob what they worked so hard to achieve, and laugh as they pleased themselves on the euphoric ecstasy the birds had earned.
The female albatross ruffled its feathers, attempting to shield its eggs from the blue scanning light of the searcher drone. It backfired. Faster than the bird could comprehend, the light leapt out at her, creating a blue lasso that coiled around and crushed its wings. The albatross looked back at its eggs as it was dragged off. A needle injected into the nape of the bird's neck, and it fell to darkness.
Tall stood the rahman, his pale legs that were not covered below the knees being nicked by the cool airs of the liquifying chamber. He rubbed the back of his shiny bald head as he examined the control console. This was not the place for him.
"Do not touch the console," Ynez said. "We do not need another accident."
Gazza, who had moved a few feet away from the buzzing supercomputer, spoke, "The liquifying meltdown incident wasn't my fault."
"You were seen touching the controls before the procedure."
"I was helping. The young one you brought in could not do the procedure properly."
Ynez flicked a few switches, "You are not here to help. You are here to observe and taste. That is all."
Gazza gave up on any further attempts to state his claim. Ynez obviously would not have it. He wondered if this would make her bitter towards him and whether that would affect any chance of asking her out to dinner. Her grey pale scalp was beautiful as the hydrogen lights of the ceiling that reflected off of it. Her stature, while not as tall as his, allowed for beautiful long legs certainly taller than most trees.
"What are you staring at?" she asked. "Get down to the unloading doc and bring out the specimens."
So Gazza did. He opened the chamber door and ducked his head underneath the low hanging archway. Using the natural secretion from the caulobacter crescentus bacterium that resided on the tips of his fingers, Gazza descended the titanic wall of the chamber until he reached the three drones that hovered in the center. He flashed each drone with his facility badge which they scanned. White smoke escaped from a descending tray where a white albatross lay. He unloaded the next, a dove, and the final, a swan. After securing the three birds into their respective harnesses in the middle of the chamber he began his trek back to the observatory. A swan, an albatross, and a dove; what a delightful cocktail of pleasure, he thought.
Gazza motioned for Ynez, "You can begin."
He looked down at the three birds that began to wake from their slumber. It was always better when they were awake. Well, not for them. The process was a painful one, but the emotions received were stronger, purer. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the sad creatures. Their bodies would be ripped apart atom by atom. He reminded himself that they were only animals. They did not feel like he did and the sentient ones needed their love. Yet...
"Don't you think the process is a bit cruel?" He couldn't stop himself from asking the question aloud.
Ynez clicked her teeth, "Don't grow a conscience on me. They're just birds. It will all be over soon. I'm beginning the channel flux for extraction."
The blank walls of the chamber flared into an array of colors, from the eternity of black to the coolness of blue. The feathers of the birds stood on edge.
Gazza eyed Ynez, "Why do this?"
"What?" Ynez leaned over and pushed a few flashing buttons, "Liquifying?"
"Yes."
She stood straight up and crouched, as was the rahman custom when they pondered, "I suppose because I love love. Or at least I love the idea of love. My parents were madly in love. They loved each other to the grave. I think that's a beautiful thing."
The birds began screeching in the pit below.
She continued, "We already have so much essence on our planet. It should be good to give back. I know it would make my parents proud, bringing love to the universe far and wide. Everyone can always use more."
Red streaks of lightning began flashing, coming closer and closer to the birds that thrashed desperately trying to leave their seats.
"I see," Gazza said.
The lightning finally grazed the creatures' wings. They began to melt, to turn into a pink oozy residue. Their bodies convulsed, their beaks peeled back, their skin thawed. First the feathers were gone, then the flesh beneath. Finally, the bones crunched and the eyes popped like little white bubbles. A robotic arm suctioned the contents off the chamber floor and delivered them in a medium sized clear container. Gazza dipped his finger in and pulled it out. He licked the cocktail- made of love and desire- and smiled. It was pure, purer than anything he had tasted before. It coursed through his veins, cleansed his souls, brought youth to his parched lips, and a new spring to his step.
"Send it off!" he exclaimed.
The booming of his voice elicited a quiet giggle from Ynez. She turned some knobs, took the jar from Gazza's hands, and inserted it into the matter reformer. As she prepared the mixture for launch, where its atoms would be disassembled and reassembled in a distant world, Ynez spun the charting wheel. Earth was the lottery winner this time. The extraction would be sent outside of a place called Fredericksburg. Ynez began the sequence.
"Do you ever wonder what would happen if the sample came in one piece?" Gazza asked.
"We take a countermeasure against that. There's a small explosive device planted in the base of the canister. It'll detonate upon arrival and the contents will mix with the reality around it."
"What if it fails?"
"The chance for error is like the mass of an electron; so miniscule it might as well be zero. But if it were… well… that would be a lot of power in one's hands. It's a frightening thought, I suppose."
Gazza gulped and worked up the courage to ask the thing that was really on his mind, "Want to grab dinner?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Ynez said.
The two exited the liquifying facility and walked the large streets of the city, looking for a place to eat.
Hundreds of thousands of light years away, possibly millions, on a little blue and green planet, a canister appeared on the outskirts of a city called Fredericksburg. The contents splattered the surrounding area with its putrid vapor, embedding itself deep into the fabric of reality. To linger there for eternity both in the future and past.
There is a latin saying- quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est. - what is everywhere, what is always, what is by all people believed.
It was in the year of 1822 when the presence first hit Regine Olsen. She was visiting Fredericksburg, the town of her birthplace. Most of the days were rigid, following the orderly structure of accompanying her mother to meet with others in the high class of Denmark, painting miniatures, or reading books. She didn't know where the feeling came from, it was just there- in the air around her, underneath her feet, brushing against her lips- quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est.
What the presence entailed was not apparent until her later years when she met a man by the name of Soren Kierkegaard. A student studying at the University of Copenhagen, Soren was a fascinating young mind. The presence Regine had felt all those years ago came back, throbbing in her chest, electrifying her body whenever she was around him. They accompanied each other on long walks and talked about their lives. Soren spoke about his father who had gotten his maid pregnant, how he was estranged from his family, and how he pursued Don Juan and others in his literary studies at the university. Regine told him about her rather quiet life, but spoke quickly, more interested in what the man had to say.
It was on September 8th, 1840, while Regine played the piano, that Soren finally confessed his love for her, and, following the blessing from Regine's father shortly thereafter, they became engaged. The presence she had felt those many years before, pushed out of her every pore in the months that followed, filling her with euphoric joy and delight every time Soren read her another sermon from Bishop Jacob Mynster. However, the passion dwindled slowly like a flame melting a candle.
Soren thrust himself into his work and neglected Regine. She did not know why. The feeling was so strong, how could he not feel the same she wondered. On August 11, 1841 Soren broke off the engagement and said, "There is something spectral about me, something no one can endure who has to see me every day and have a real relationship with me." Regine could not make sense of his words. Was he afraid of closeness? She wrote him letters, pleading him to stay in hopes that he would, but he fled. It occurred to her in that moment, that whatever sensation she stumbled along all those years ago, he had not experienced at all.
Quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est. And the love of Cleopatra and Mark Antony, however much mistrust they held for each other. Quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est. And the love of Lord Byron and Lady Caroline Lamb until she slit her wrists out of envy. Quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est. And the love of Paris and Helen that eventually set Troy ablaze. All sprouting from the same place, the same minds, the same hearts.
Gazza and Ynez ate silently, the sound of their sonic knives digging into the juicy meat before them on an outdoor dining patio. Reaching for the bottle of magmar wine Gazza said, "Now tell me about how this essence works."
Ynez took a sip from her glass, "It's quite simple really. It's the law of conservation of love. It can not be created or destroyed; it simply is. You can bottle it, send it off to distant places and change its form, but never make any more of it."
"Then, what, it just gets recycled over the years?"
"Yes, between times forward and backward. Someone drops it and another picks it up. Like how when one dies another is born."
"And that makes it a good thing?"
Ynez clasped her hands, "I think it's a strange thing. It can make us commit the worst atrocities and the greatest acts of compassion."
"Then love isn't really beautiful; it's devoid of beauty or ugliness. It just exists."
"No. I'm quite sure what I saw in my parents was beauty."
"I'm not denying that. I'm saying your parents made it beautiful. In reality, love is just a blank slate until something is done with it. It can be horrible, or it can be great. It is not born a certain way. Similar to us, I suppose."
Ynez stopped cutting into her meal and stared at Gazza. The gears in her head turned, and the sudden sensation to hug him overtook her. Then the remorse came. All those years of pumping the essence out into the universe and for what? Their charity was all for naught. Love existed not by putting it there, it needed to be raised.
"I think," Ynez said slowly, "we've made a big mistake."
Gazza and Ynez lifted their gazes up at the starry night sky and trembled with fear.
Back, back, back. Two steps forward. Five steps to the right. Underneath- in the thrumming center, pulsating outwards. Across the radiant. Over. No, farther down. Through the charm quarks, grazing the bosons. Looping through materiality. There: the matter reformed.
On a beach, where red waves crashed against pale sands and the moon bled its silver glow onto the scorched earth of the Hakone region of Japan, sat a boy, alone, withered, and distraught. A cluster of rotting and splintered wooden crosses lay a few feet away. Through a stitch in the fabric of reality, the presence seeped, drenching the environment in a heavy feeling of utter despair. What good was it if he was alone?
Several hours later, he turned his gaze from the stars to a girl that sat next to him and, after gazing into the distance, proceeded to strangle her. The presence around him was twisting, turning, being perverted into a delirium of pain, anger, passion, and desire. Crush her throat, he thought. It was the only thing that made sense.
The girl felt the high energy protons course through her, startling her dormant body awake. With her newfound knowledge, and the arrow that struck her heart, she lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. The action brought the boy to tears.
He screamed. Screamed at the world. At himself. At the moon, the sun, and the stars. He screamed until his lungs gave out and he collapsed onto his side next to her, panting, broken.
The girl lifted herself off the ground, stumbled a few feet, and hugged her knees closely to her chest, hands tentatively reaching for her neck, feeling the red, swollen skin where his nails had dug into. After regaining his senses, the boy moved to stand behind her. Together, they looked at the titanic head of a fallen comrade.
The presence began to subside from its putrid state, returning to a calm serene feeling like soft winds on a warm spring day. The boy apologized and sat next to the girl, his white shoes creating a small indent in the sand. They sat there, for a while, hours passed, maybe days, it didn't matter. Thinking was too hard because all they had done was think. Think. Think. Think. Thinking got no one anywhere. In the years to come only one thing would exist in the minds of those who came after and those who stood on the very same ground many eons before; in the beating hearts of their souls, in the boundless infinity that was space, in the endless mural that was time.
Both the boy and the girl spotted a canister with a pink gel in it, sitting a few feet away. She moved away and grabbed it. Hugging it to her chest, she sat down next to the boy. The casing it came in was more fragile than she expected. The enclosure, that looked like glass, but sparkled with a glint like metal, cracked, and the contents inside washed over the two of them, covering their hands, bodies, faces. The residue of the mixture sunk into the sand and the shards of alien material dematerialized leaving only the two of them, still sitting a few feet away from each other.
The girl sighed, stretched, and snuck a glance at the boy. She was startled to see him looking at her with an expression of fondness. Instinctually, she scooted over to him, her feet covered in red, brushing against his white sneakers. Settling into the closeness, the boy untensed.
Asuka's head fell against Shinji's shoulder. For some time, a long time, maybe a short time, they stared at the moon together.
That night, in a destroyed world, two people found something greater than any single word could describe; a feeling beyond reason, doubt, or the conscious human mind. If they could, why couldn't others?