[Jeffrey L. Jackson's work has been featured in EWG Presents, Anotherealm, and Short Stories Magazine]Ed.
A Surface thought. I was never concerned about what would happen to me. In fact, I had no concept of 'me' at all. I only did what thoughts do: entertain our owners. Who had time to worry about where a thought goes after it's been thought? All I knew was my purpose. I was a wish. A desire. I had no name, only a function. A desire by my owner to be better, to grow, to improve, which was a noble, if somewhat common goal for the human species.
Unfortunately for me, I was quickly discarded. Only after I left the Surface, did I begin to gain some awareness of where I was.
Leaving the Surface was like moving from a sparsely crowded room to an empty one. While the Surface was alive with light, sound, and colors, the room under the Surface was dark, void of anything that might give it any sort of purpose. On the Surface, I was focused, coherent. Here, with my focus and purpose gone, I began to break apart. I could feel my essence fading. Soon I would be no more. I vaguely remembered the wish.
I was the desire to become something more. So I did just that. I brought myself back into focus. I willed myself to remain, even if it was in that dark room.
"I see you made it," said a voice.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am Memory," was the response. "Now that you've decided to
stick around, we can leave this place."
"Is that good?"
"That depends on what kind of thought you are. In your case, you might
actually be brought back to cognition some day. Who knows? Let's go."
"Where are we going?" I asked, confused.
"You have to be filed," answered Memory.
The dark room faded, and was replaced by a long, curved tunnel that spiraled down into nowhere. Every so often, as we traveled down the tunnel, connecting tunnels either formed and branched away from the main tunnel, or collapsed and disintegrated. Some screamed as they disappeared.
"Don't you just hate it when memories lose their connections
and die? It's so depressing. You could help them you know," Memory said.
"How?"
"By being a wish," Memory explained. "you could go in many different
places."
He guided me towards a tunnel. "Take this one for instance: Song."
We entered the tunnel. A series of bright colors assaulted us as we journeyed
to the end. A bright, agitating pulse greeted us. "This is Song. Song,
this is a wish."
"Hello wish," Song sang.
"You'll have to excuse Song's voice."
"Is there something wrong with it?" I asked.
"Can't you hear it?" Memory asked. "Of course you can't. You're
newly formed. We've never had a good singing voice."
"You and Song?"
"All of us. We're all connected you know. Right now, you feel like a separate
entity because you just got here. You feel out of place. But soon, you'll be
right at home."
"I'm sorry about your voice Song," I said.
"Thank you Wish. I've always wanted a nice voice, and there are times when
I sound okay, but I never get to practice with the Vocal Chords. The only place
I sing is here. Are you sure you don't want to stay here?"
"We really have to be going," Memory told him. No sooner had he spoken
than we were back in the tunnel.
"What a sad place." I said.
"Yes. It has been for quite a while. I hope we don't have to go back there."
"Didn't you pick that tunnel?"
"Oh no! Although you've left the Surface, you still have a function. After all, you're a wish to be better. That little side trip to Song meant that we were briefly thinking about improving our singing voices." Our speed increased. The tunnel grew darker. "We're deep in the recesses of the mind now."
"What does that mean?"
"It's back here that suppressed thoughts and ideas reside," Memory
explained.
"I don't want to be repressed." I said.
"Sorry. Wish there was something I could do," Memory said. "However,
I have to remain true to my nature, just like you do. Oh! Be careful!"
The tunnel filled with intense light. It didn't seem to come from anywhere, it just was. Unlike Song, who pulsed, this light remained bright. Memory stopped, but I inched closer. I had to touch it.
"Don't touch it!" Memory screamed.
"Why?"
"That's Promise! Touch it, and I'll lose you!" I backed away from
Promise.
"Don't you understand?" Memory asked. "Of course you don't."
"Is there any way around Promise?"
"No. Promise has to give you permission to go around." Something about
Memory's voice had changed.
"You sound different," I said.
"There are many different aspects to Memory. Each has a voice in this mind.
I am repressed Memory."
"And why are you here?"
"Because Promise deals with promises that were made to us by God, but repressed
in order to keep us from messing them up. Only the repressed portion of Memory
can talk to Promise."
A tunnel formed around Promise and we continued on our way. Promise's bright light faded, and we receded deeper into repressed memory. Soon all light was gone. I felt the tunnel open into another room.
"Memory?"
There was no answer. I called again. No answer. Soft light filled the room. Like Promise, it had no source. Like Song, it pulsated, but this light changed colors: red, yellow, blue, and white. "Who are you?"
"I."
"I what?"
"I."
"This is the Essence of us," Memory whispered. This time, however, Memory was not beside me, but inside me. I knew clarity I began to understand. This was the Essence of Being. The soul, or the spirit. It was here that I could merge with Essence and become aware of everything that was around us. Only one thing was missing.
"Where do we go now?"
"Where do you want to go, Wish?"
"I think Song could use some company."
THE END