The Writer's Continuum

An exploration of life and how small we all are in the grand scheme. The main idea of this story is the Writer's Continuum, a continuous stacking of writers and written that defines what drives us all

In The Beginning, There Was You

 

There is no easy way to say this: Your life, and everything you encounter, may very well be a story. Say this grows your ego. You see yourself as the main character and you try to figure out what sort of story your life develops into. Will it be a thriller caused by your preferable genre, or a Rom-Com with goofy accidents? Will it be a tale of epic adventure, or a drama view of a wasted life? Will this story of your life have a coming of age, or will it explain why your development ceased? No matter what you write for yourself, what story you decide to lead, know that just one tier above you, a person much like you sits writing that very story.

The first part of the continuum rest upon the shoulders of your author, dare you say you have one. Even if you decide you lead your own life, and your future is the direct result of your choices in life, you will need to seek meaning when something bad occurs. You may look above and speak to a God, and there is no wrong there. Belief is meant to be a choice, but what if above you there is just another person like you, writing that story? This first part is the author, the being or thought maintaining your existence. You can believe it, or reject the idea, it’s up to you, but that is the Writer’s Continuum. If you wish, skip the tales of this idea to the other infinities.

 

The Writer’s Continuum

 

Great, you’re still here. Wave good-bye to those who skipped, as the joke’s on them. The other infinities tend to tie up into the writer’s continuum, yet define all parts of known life, and many parts of life’s mysteries.

Let’s build the structure and discuss. This’ll be me talking at you rather than a discussion, but I’ll try to anticipate questions. If I miss some, well, then if this story, or idea, ever gets popular, we should talk about it sometime, eh?

Structure, structure, hmm, well… it’s very simple. There is you, and your individual story that you direct in some notion. Above you is a person very much like you that is ACTUALLY directing the story. Now, this could be a simple person, one not considering that the story she or he is writing is you, so cut the person some slack. This person may or may not have the supernatural powers of a god. It all depends on the genre of writing. Many cling to simple stories of life without any inklings of fantasy. They seek to connect,to relate their fiction to life. Well, now you know who to blame for life being just a bit bland.

Stories of life’s troubles and triumphs are great, don’t get me wrong. It takes another view of life to discover treasures that lifeoffers, and all that blah. Those of you who seek no more in life, perhaps this book will unlock, or you might find it a preposterous clump of ideas.  Hedge, It might not even be a book.

Continuing with the building of structure, you have this person, this being that leads you into all that you decide, but little did you know, that little did she or he know, that they are an individual story of another a tier above them. That’s right. The Tiers are endless. You may very well be a story of such insignificance, that your miniscule existence is not only a blip in the physical space of life, but even worse, a tiny blip in the mind of some lady or dude thinking it all up at the beginning of the writer’s continuum, or the top of it.

BUT HAVE NO FEAR! This structure extends below as well, or dare I say, beyond the tip of your writing utensil. Above, you may be small, but in your mind, you’re the one leading. You struggle through things life (or in this case your author) throws at you, and you persevere, or you don’t. Either way, it will be a story for someone to read in the end. In fact, not all stories come in written form. Some are furthered simply through word-of-mouth, others are conveyed in song and various media that people create with.

Before I dive right into the infinity you pour from inside your mind with a channeling utensil of creativity, I want to explore the middle ground a bit more.

There is individuality to your story, as your ego would perceive you to be the main character. How else could you exist otherwise, eh? Could you be satisfied with being an extra in your own life? Heh. It’s doubtful, but kudos if you can. Or maybe shame on you. I don’t care either way. There are far too many so called Main Characters in the world, people seeing themselves as the top sheep in the herd, but in the end, they are just sheep (and I am not substituting a word here for a bad one), being herded by the unreachable big dog. YET, oh yes, YET, we are not that individual. Everyone wants to lead their story, thus nobody can think another is the main character of their story, bringing in, you guessed it, competition.

In our minds, we are the sheep (substituted word), and all the rest are cannon fodder, yet we dig through it all to find some golden orbs or even some not so perfect nuggets to load up with. I’m using gold as the metaphor here due to the high price of it and the jewelry aspect. If you do not find gold appealing imagine loading up on stuff you do admire in this physical world. In this respect, these objects are people. These chosen objects, people, are all secondary cast to the story, yet they are all the main characters of their own story where you are the secondary cast. In that respect, we, as the middle ground of the writer’s continuum are a sort of infinity of importance to the entire continuum. We are the main, the secondary, the supporting and the extra of this one idea of existence.

So then, we move to the pen, pencil, brush, knife, camera, instrument, mouth, or any other utensil we may use to convey a story to others. A computer! Heh. Yeah, that’s a rather important one, seeing as this is currently being written on one. Anyway, those are the tools to convey all that life (again, author) has thrown at us. In this respect, we channel all the emotions within us, all that the top tier put into the world, even further down the line.

How far does it go? Well, that’s the infinity of the writer’s continuum, isn’t it? Your main character, could be a better version of you. In some cases, she or he could be a much worse version of you. It all depends on what sort of emotion you wish to put into the writing. Love will grab attention of some, while rage will grab other groups of folks. Somehow, I feel that most of us try our best to convey a balanced diet of all things human to the viewers of the creative endeavor. No matter what draws people to the work, be it humor or drama, in the end, there are things to be gained from the consumption of said creativity on chosen medium.

Thus, your character may think like you, and write their own story. In that respect, the character of your character’s story may write a story, progressing further into the crevices of the very core of the writer’s continuum. Huh. You never quite know how much space an idea is going to take up until you put it on some medium. This idea was easy enough to explain. There is likely to be some editing, but right now I have it contained to less than fifteen hundred words. I bet I could pump out a few thousands if I used flavored tongues, flourishing metaphors and experiences drawing from my own life, but that’s not the root of the idea. When you see a singular infinity, be that possible in any other place than your imagination, don’t you just wish to contain it and find your location within?

That’s pretty much the Writer’s Continuum, a shortcut to one way of looking at the world you exist in. You are a story, and you are the remainder of the cast, but equally you might be the tiniest blip of a thought of some being tiers above you, or a being so far above the continuum that all your efforts to change the story of another, end in failure. Where you take the stories you create, is up to you, no matter what you use to convey them. Shy away from the idea if you must, but in the end, the story you write should be for your own benefit. Speaking of stories, I could launch into a theorized behavioral index of all genres before progressing to the other infinities, in fact, I WILL do this.

If you lose interest, as this is mainly directed at written stories, shows and all things that become stories in form of cognitive speech, written word, or screen debut, feel free to jump to the first infinity of the Beyond. May you find solace in this journey in some shape or form. And if you don’t, hey, no big, it’s just an idea, don’t go fighting people about it, ya hear? Belief is free magic within our own minds. Only out in the world does it crash into the views of others. See you at the Beyond, some of you. Not all things written in this, shall I say “book-of-sorts”, apply to everyone, nor should they.

 

Creation Dilemma

 

Well, they’re gone. Whew! Now let’s get freaky and psychological, eh? The Writer’s Continuum is eerie in its own right, but do consider the breaking of the fourth wall. It has been used in many aspects of the written and acted worlds, and it makes the audience take responsibility for being entertained. Now imagine that you could converse with your author, the being making your life what it is. This has also been practiced already to convey that what you create may very well be alive in some shape or form, in some cases even in the same world. In my mind, and feel free not to agree, all things with even an inkling of creativity, come to life. Drew a stick figure? Hedge, you are now responsible for that stick figure’s life. Erased the stick figure? You monster, you just murdered that poor stick figure! What about her or his family? You ruined their lives! Heh. Powerful stuff, or not.

So, in any shape and form of creation, you bring life to a lifeless object, but no. The object was alive already. That could be a story by itself. Only when the object is displaced does it become a part of your story, your secondary character, or maybe an idea for a story in a lower tier. You fold a boat out of paper, but the paper had a house drawn on it. Thus you demolished the house and built the boat out of the rubble. What about the family that lived in that house? Where will they go? In all creation, there is destruction, a balancing act. The pen had ink ready, but then you started writing, and now the ink is all gone, thus killing the pen’s need to live. In drama-form, you have taken everything the pen was good for, and now, all the pen can do is jump, into the trash, or get loaded with new life. Connect reloading your favorite pen to impregnating someone. Both will bring life to the world.

 

Genre

 

Now we progress into the value of genres. Ah, I feel as if I do not connect enough. I will now be taking questions. Now imagine the sound of a cricket chirping, and shout out your questions into the room. If you did as instructed, how did it feel? Now imagine you’re talking to me, ‘cause I sure can’t hear you. Hope you got some weird looks. Life is fun like that. That was a nice imagination exercise. Speaking of imagination, it is one of the infinites beyond. Do look forward to seeing a bite of that and why it is the most wonderful of infinities. That’s further. Now we jump into the splits of genre.

All human life is shaped by the past, even when moving forward, the aspects of life are guided by the gravity of what came before. Thus, if we experience much hardship in our lives, we seek to balance it out in a few different ways. One way is to counter is to only see the good in the world and burn with hope for better. Another is seeing others lead a terrible life. Both serve the same purpose, but attain a different end result. The hopefuls will put the hope forward, further down the tiers, especially since you may be the TOP TIER. In that case, thank you for being a bit hopeful at least so the world still has hope. In the other case, you further a different emotion down to the masses. The second person’s stories may be dark, connecting to darker individuals, but that is still quite brilliant.

The hope and despair argument is the first vague instance of genre splits. The second comes from the coming-of-age versus the frozen child. In many respects, the frozen child is admired, for they give children freedom to be whatever they want, but to those who are in fact frozen children inside older bodies, this is a story of despair. Similar instance, the coming-of-age story can depict many different ways of growing up, connecting to people who’ve long forgotten their dreams, or it could make children fear what may come next. The clash is a clear-and-present danger, but ignored by well-adjusted individuals, for they walk the world as a frozen child coming of age. An Ageless Icicle, like the ones containing old forgotten viruses and bacteria.

Furthering the genre splits there are the actual genres of word and act. All are taken from life lived, and in some instances, they are from a life lived before. That, is quite another infinity to discuss in the Beyond, the infinity of life itself. Look forward to that. I sure will, since I haven’t written it yet, and not even thinking of editing yet. Perhaps the idea will be good enough that someone else will do it for me. One can dream. Subconscious is not quite infinite, but a subset of imagination. Don’t confuse it with the original. They are very different. I don’t expect to write this in one go, so know I took a break here. When I return, I will discuss the actual genres of stories in existence, known to us at least.

 

Well, I hate to tell you this, but that break displaced me from the story. Other tales I furthered down the writing tiers stole my attention, but having finished the current topic, I returned to this idea in hopes of one day showing someone the inside of my mind. It is a place of chaos, memories and stories that baffle me with grandeur, but that is quite another matter. It had been around five months since I started the break that you will read over in seconds. That’s like, time travel or something. Heh.

Among the flood of genres, a few stand out as the roots. It could be that those few were the initial pieces remaining uncontained due to pleasing natures, or that there is just too many of them in comparison to the new. These correspond to things humans want to feel, and have wanted to feel for a very long time. In that respect, the layer of emotion genres is the connection to primal aspects of the past, our struggle to connect and survive.

Fear is excitement personified, though it can kill you just as much as please you. That scary feeing is what gives action and adventure the thrill of survival.Love is an emotion the world had for a long time, a way to tell stories that take hold of your heart to do with as the creator pleases. The genre of drama belongs to Love, as it tests the boundaries of suffering, a withdrawal from love. Humor has been around far beyond speech, though the upbringing is often rocky, hinging on degradation of ideals. Culture spans the variety of upbringings, challenging how what one believes, develops their minds as they age. Faith is spirituality drawing upon that major genre.

Bleh, let’s take a breath. I feel as though I come across cold returning from this break. The nitpicking of genre is not important here, but it devises ways to create your own stories, be they linked to the written and acted media. I know many people belong to these roles, but a majority is only entertained by their ventures and failings. I hope those folks skipped this part due to the sometimes dry nature of my thinking. If you are here, well, I hope you find the infinities Beyond a more pleasant form of entertainment.

Above those four main genres, these are two which connect to all. Fiction and Non-Fiction define the bridge between realism of the world perceived and the infinity of the tiers inside of the mind. This is where the split confines the mind. We seek to bring our ideas from within into reality, creating inspiration to make those dreams true. With logic, as perceived in the scientific belief, some things simply cannot exist, yet new things constantly come to light, discoveries that open a broader view of what is and what isn’t possible. It is up to you to choose what to believe. That is why Choice is the first of the infinities in the Beyond.

The one thing that wraps up Genre, is the sphere of influence. Though used in other ways throughout time, this circle of exposure limits the mind to certain ideas that the mind has observed so far in the aging of history and the life cycle. You search for those ideas which connect to pleasant memories, and avoid those which proved to be emotionally scaring. That is the majority, though in secret all tend to have hidden vices stemming from experiences with those long buried scars. That’s it for the genres. That kind of thinking and generalization takes a lot out of you, but this is just the beginning. It’s time to move on to the Beyond. See? It didn’t take so long to cover my main idea. If you stop reading here, you will at least know what the Writer’s Continuum is.

 

The First Infinity: Choice

 

When discussing the infinite, the endless, it’s easy to wrap it into a circle and say that everything that is, and will be, repeats. In the matter of Choice, this principle would collapse due to the infinite deviations of your decision. Through you cannot decide things at birth, that supernatural ability is grown with the use of time. You like some foods, but dislike others. You enjoy being free or channel yourself into a set of rules derived from culture. Each choice, creating a world of its own, as known to run parallel to the other choice and any amount of iterations of it.

Understandably, this is an infinity, but not one to be displayed in a simple manner. From the first decision you make, the perceived life, splits into many different lines, all running with time. For the moment, let’s take time out of the equation. When all the decisions you make have no running counter, they form a vertical line, expanding out into the top and bottom. Why would this imagined amount of choices be two dimensional? In fact without time factored in, the infinity of choice is an infinite endless plane of existence, and you chart the location on that plane through decisions you made about everything that surrounds you.

This is the fabric of the Choice reality, woven from all that you’ve ever decided, without the burden of time, but why perceive it as such? That whole plane of existence might as well be a dot in the emptiness of being. The only reason it becomes a plane is TO chart your location. In your mind, you view the past that shaped you the most, the mistakes that strengthened your understanding of the world and the triumphs that you cherish. We all want to know where we are due to the choices we have made, save for those who perceive to make only mistakes, or those who do not accept that anything was a mistake. The divide of this idea is what you CONSIDER to be a mistake. In the very core, we just want to survive, prosper and create.

I will give an example of choice, though many have already begun to chart the location on their own fabric of reality, building a maze that has the meaning of life at the very center. The walls are the paths made, and you only create more as choices mount. This maze is only possible to solve with absolute recall, down to the first choice in your existence, and thus, the goal is truly unreachable.

To demonstrate choice, I will write a short story, though many have done this very same in connection to love, drama and fear. Those stories draw upon the memories of the creators, of choices they made that split their point of existence into a variety of directions. By adding time to the plane of existence, we all become stars, originating from one form into a network of matter and energy outwards, shedding that energy in any shape or form into what exists around the metaphorical containing void. Arriving at this idea is a bit breath-taking, at least to me, but you cannot always think of yourself as this one star in the world. That, as reading any of this, is also your choice.

The story goes like this. Once in a vague time of existence, a being was given a choice. This choice was very important as it was to choose a gender to exist as. It had no way of knowing that another being somewhere in the same world was choosing to be the other version of the choice. In probability, three outcomes exist, though present time has found ways to add more to those. In general, the being could choose to become Male or to become Female. No choice had any negative implications, but there was also no research to look at. While only two choices existed, the being’s choice is a game of chance, but introducing a third, the matter becomes complex.

The third choice is to not choose a gender, and there are those creatures still alive who never decided to be either. In human circles, this would boil down to the people who created this uncertain being, but in the story, this being is the first to be. Confusion arises from the definite, if it contradicts what the mind develops into. In the case of the story, say the being chose not to define itself. In the end it would develop a way to further itself without the help of another, or complete the cycle of life as a failed being. In this respect, when the being does choose either gender, the unknown being somewhere in the world chooses to be the other, still splitting the two existences into coexisting choice paths that are bound to cross.

This imagining of connection reminds me of the intricate complexity of atoms and molecules that make up everything on the basis of science. Perhaps in the metaphorical void where all choice exists, that is what humanity is. That is what is called a theory, and those little b******s can only be disproven for facts are never facts in our mind. In connection to others, Connections being some form of infinity integrated into the choices, we are all the intricate parts of the world around us. One particle or wave could be a universe of its own, while to us, it is miniscule.

In the end, all choices exist to the being who chooses, and each is charted on the choice plane without the thought of time. All of us are within that one being. In vision of science, our genetic makeup creates new life on chance of gender, but science is just another belief, one grounded by what we perceive and understand. I don’t mean to attack science, as it integrates into the Universe infinity of the Beyond, but the limits that science provides are far too familiar to what laws and rituals other faiths create. What is born in the mind can also live, but cannot be sensed by the reaches of matter until given a medium.

In the end, Choice is just that. Some live life on a day-to-day basis, making little deviations in their lives, while some live a life of uncertainty. While some chart their whole future to happiness through decisions they will make, others never care what the future will hold. Choice can make you a person, or destroy what person you have been creating out of time progression. In the eyes of another, everything you choose is entertainment that connects to their life. Everything is a story.

Too much imagination is often tiring. Viewing yourself as a miniscule blip in all of existence is a very demeaning situation, but often it stresses the type of person you believe yourself to be. You want to be sure of who you are, who you have built from those moments which affected you in personal history. In those times of overwhelming thoughts and emotions, I take what I call a Universal Step Back.

 

The Universal Step Back

 

At first thought you might think the name refers to the expansion of the universe, and though this little mental routine is hinged upon science, it only scavenges it for temporary calming and righting of the psyche. If you do not know what a universe is, it is the seemingly endless array of emptiness where the stars and all forms of matter exist. It is our existence defined by logic and the exploration of quantity. There is great beauty in this universe, and that is why the calming aspect exists within that step back. It is a way to instantly distance yourself into your mind, but you have to have a vague idea of how galaxies, stars and space looks like. Once you have those images burned into your mind, they will never leave you, for we will one day be up there in physical form.

To do this Universal Step Back, you need only a space where you can move one step back, but in your mind, you will be leaving the planet, the solar system, the galaxy, and the universe, all in the progression of that one step. Needless to say, though I said it anyway, you need to have your eyes closed for this to kick-start your imagination. With enough room, close your eyes and imagine your eyes looking down at yourself. Your body is standing somewhere, a place on the surface of your planet. You could be standing on water for all I care. I always choose where I currently am, as it helps me.

Now, choosing one foot, imagine your view of departing from the Earth as your foot leaves the surface of the ground. If you do this very slowly, be sure to balance yourself on one foot, but the mind can often work fast. As the foot lifts off the ground you end up just outside the planet of your origin, but you cannot stop there. As soon as you feel a tipping of your weight, or if you’re incredibly balanced just tip yourself backward gently, watch the shrinking of the binding planet and watch as the planets zoom by at the sides of view. In this manner, avoid flying into any of them, you will be flying backwards, after all.

As you feel the fall take you backwards, at the very start, move your leg to take the pressure of the step. Often, you will do this on instinct, preserving your survival, but that fall is needed to feel the motion of distance with the help of imagination. As your foot reaches the ground to catch you, you should see the other systems around you, crowding in the space of your vision until all you can see are the bright spots that are stars. At this point you might no longer be able to tell where the sun was, but that is the whole point. You will see the whole galaxy in all the majestic glory as the pressure lifts from your other leg.

With the final motion of lifting the other leg, you will drift further away, shrinking that galaxy to something that would fit inside a marble. As the leg reaches to join the other in a solid stance, you will see other galaxies join your field of view, all spirals of color and stars in the endless space. The final foot is in place and your motion stops. All you can do now is hover there, watching this universe churn life as light and beauty. Time moves at your own choice, be it frozen, or sped up to watch the galaxies spin, expand and contract. While your eyes are closed, you are still there, but the second you open your eyes, the creation of that step will drop you back to where you originated. That is what the Universal Step Back is in my mind. The only limit is imagination, and that very idea, is the next infinity that I will talk about. This one is going to be a wild one, so hold on to what you know.

 

The Second Infinity: Imagination

 

Some would say that imagination is boundless, yet many argue it depends on a few factors. Childhood can foster an imagination, or grind it into the dirt. Imagine if you will a world without this magical nexus of connections within your brain. That would truly be a systematic world, one tuned to those who sought to have everything in order. To spectating eyes, it would be a bleak reality, yet to some, a paradise. Imagination creates evolution creates imagination. That is the circle of reason, and yet the mind is so vast and often misunderstood. We imagine because we want something more, perhaps something that science tells us simply cannot exist.

I know this is all just imagined to me, a story I’m writing of something that many will never care about, but this creative force is within us all. To some, it is an old-forgotten muscle, not flexed for a long time, and if pressured too immediately after a long rest period, it will damage. Those who think they do not have animagination, it eludes. It will not show itself unless you try and use it. Those who flex it daily and keep pushing boundaries are the ones who find ways to overcome the views of dystopian ends to humanity’s survival.

I’ll take a few questions now. Yes, you! I’ll imagine folks as this is only being written. Some may ask why imagination is necessary as all. Well, as said before, things we can create within our minds and our evolution go hand-in-hand. Though currently limited by laws of the universe, the third infinity, our minds seek ways to trap those impossibilities and filter out those that can be tricked into existence over time spent running experiments. We make reality expand only by broadening our minds.

Another issue this infinity comes up against is time. It’s not directly related to time spent, as many ideas come from a spark, an instantaneous activating snap that changes the world the same way choice does, but it takes time to grow the idea. Many ideas thought up within your own mind, could already exist in the world, and definitely exist elsewhere in the whole of existence. Originality is the bane of a creative mind. All that is, has been before and began with a trick of the mind or a trick of perception. In that respect, imagination is pure magic, void ofromanticized views of wizardry and witchcraft. It has been there as long as we have, but we’ve only been able to perceive it recently, which in turn could be another trick of the mind.

If you think about it, this is my mind tricking yours, pushing an obvious idea, yet draws upon new views. I won’t reference anything, as in my mind, all that I have perceived in my life was not coming from a source. I was building a human mind with a vast imagination. That was learning, the sharing of knowledge as perceived by the common world beliefs. In turn, the few ideas that inspired me, affected how my imagination functions in the world. The mind is a bubbly, constantly-evolving organism, just like the engine that drives the world beyond it. This connects wonderfully to the Writer’s Continuum, so if you skipped it, well, maybe go back and read it? It’s not very long. I’m into the second infinity and only have about six thousand words.

Whatever can’t exist, can exist and will. If that’s a quote by someone famous, sorry. If not, hedge, I’ll take it. It’s a nice quote about determination of all that we see as possible now. While science often says that things cannot and will not exist, the imagination never stops proving that all perceived math of the universe is simply a theory based on what we already know. This portal into the impossible, is exactly that. We are able to see it as possible, so if it isn’t about to be created in our world, we create a world it can exist. That’s the link to the writing, by the way, in case you missed it. All writers are creators, no matter if they write fact or fiction.

One thing to mention is that our imagination and our subconscious feel the same, yet are very different. Where we control what we imagine, drawing upon all the experiences we wish to convey to some audience, but the subconscious is not so tame. While it is not an infinity, as it is connected too strongly to imagination, it would be a member of that family. It’s a small role, and thus cannot be part of the immediate family, but rather one that is “removed”, for the lack of a better term. We often find the subconscious playing with our dreams by unleashing blocked-out memories or fantasies created in secret. The perfect example of a cross between them would be a daydream, where emotion of something imagined becomes powerful enough to lure the subconscious in. Subconscious is like a cousin of imagination.

 

Imagination’s Cousin, Twice Removed

 

This part pertains to dreams, and though science has made great discoveries in understanding of what dreams mean to the dreamer, much is still to be explored. Ideas that arrive in the dream have to come from somewhere. Most often, this is the second mind, the subconscious that gathers information even when not necessary. When the body rests, this subconscious sits on the couch and watches what it gathered up on a little TV inside your brain. Sometimes it bleeds through to you mind, most often in a strange manner. To the subconscious it all makes sense, while us it confuses and requires study.

What hides in dreams is more than the world can provide. That’s a very obtuse way of looking at it. A lot of inventors might credit dreams for ideas, while it was always their mind that found the solution. The mind at rest can be a powerful tool, but when the mind is restless, it can bring out the most powerful nightmares up to the surface. It might give you an occasional pleasant dream, or more if you fuel that with dripping desire, but it hates being used. It lashes out to say so in strange secret messages.

While humanity has made a science of this, the understanding of sleep and the subconscious mind, this cousin of imagination, is not that easily figured out. In this respect the subconscious is more of a separate being than an infinity. The endlessness it could be is limited by fuel you gather to feed those dreaming nights, with only one way to truly avoid this spectator who whispers into your ear at night. If you uproot your imagination, give up everything, you might never have to deal with the subconscious again. Those who forget are sometimes the lucky ones, while we who remember, relieve the past on the screen.

An inkling of imagination bleeds through dreams, like a hidden spring in the mountains, flowing thoughts of new ideas and connections you almost made in the past to solve a problem. That source of water brings ideas out of the dream and into the world. They could just be fictions of science that romanticize certain aspects rather than the math, or fantasy so distant from fact that is serves as an escape. In turn, that spring creates an ocean where the subconscious goes to scuba-dive and jet-ski, or maybe lounge on a yacht, all the while looking for something new that you experienced to twist into a good dramatic mystery for your mind to solve when awake.

The two, imagination and subconscious, create a universe of some sort. One is boundless space, while the other is the time that twists space at will, but nothing can be as well-defined as the perceived universe we occupy. It is a beauty beyond any comparison, for even if we tried to compare it to anything, it would never make sense. Everything that is anything, or even that is nothing, exists in that universe, the third infinity grounded purely in our perception, mathematics, laws and theories. Science is fueled by it, fromlooking into the smallest of organisms to the largest of galaxies and the universe itself. In the end, that infinity is a collective story written by all of humanity.

 

 

The Third Infinity: The Universe

 

The running theory of the universe is that it is currently expanding, right? They say, and I don’t really know who “they” are, I’m working purely from my mind here. They say, that in some time, nobody really knows when, the universe will stop expanding and contract instead, reverting back to the big bang that started it all.

That’s a fun theory and all, yet it is just that. Someone once told me, “Theories can only be disproven.” It could have been my physics teacher, but I don’t remember names. Sorry to all physics teachers in the known universe. There are those who understand physics enough to create new theories, and then there are those who teach others to try to do this for them. This broadening of new minds propels humanity forward yet further into the dark pit that science often turns out to be. Nothing else has ever been credited to doing more imagination-killingthan science, oh, maybe religion, but that’s a whole different story, not part of infinities at all. If anything, infinity is connected to science intimately. If it wasn’t for science we would never have a name for infinity.

“Why make this the third infinity?” you might ask. All of them need a moment of fame, but I felt Choice deserved the first bite, as that possibly created existence and the way of life. Second, I did imagination because that made science such a successful religion today. Oh, no! He didn’t! Well, science is religion in some extent. There are laws, and they are most often not broken, but when they are, there is a price that must be paid. It clashes with religions just as onefaith clashes with another, thus it is the same. It inspires many and it fosters a greater understanding of existence, though it is imperfect, constantly requiring edits, just as the reluctant religions. Science just takes it like a champ where the others resist change, trying to remain true to the past.

It takes place as the third infinity, so it’s still a medal winner. The reason I put the Writer’s Continuum as fourths is because I don’t wantto be the father of a child who grows up to murder all the other ideas in the way. That analogy is a bit rough, but I think it applies. I’m not going to force you to believe it. All you can do is hear, or read it, and think of it yourself. It’s not ready to take the lead just yet. I want to watch it grow, develop the Writer’s Continuum, however long I have left before the author of my story decides to take me with a tragic ending. Tragic, heh. That would actually be better than a whimper of a life being snuffed out by something minor, but it is up to this being above me, the writer just one tier up.

Back to science, yes! The universe is vast and many mysteries still lurk among that sea of stars. Radiation is one of those scary things humans aren’t much attuned to, but exists in the universe that we perceive. All we can do is dream to create ways of withstanding such barriers. We have all the required genetic possibilities within life around us. It all came from one source, so we should be able to use strengths, but we have to stay true to human identity. That’s a load of bull, by the way. The only thing limiting the progress of science is other values that clash with the “immoral” testing. I’m sure something like human testing is constantly happening in secret for some sort of cures and mixes of DNA that would help us withstand the dangers of the worlds beyond.

That idea is scary. I’m terrified of what science can accomplish, but I grew up with religion, so the right and wrong has been force-fed to me before I could resist it. It might keep me out of trouble, but in the end, things will have to change. We, thanks to ideas of the past, become one type of person, breeding more of the same kind of people until there is only one type of person. That feels a lot like a world without imagination, doesn’t it? You can only believe one thing, and everything else is considered punishable by death. That’s a future without the ever-expanding savior of wonder and life, science.

All life was born in that miniscule space that was just like the dot of “you” on the existence plane with relation to choice, all of life was born. That one explosion, and the expansion in the emptiness of space, was the start of something that doesn’t seem to have a past. If the contracting and expanding of the universe is true, as it is just a theory, what will happen on the return of the life-yo-yo to the hand?Will time run backwards? Will we just all watch the universe contract into a singularity and new life will start at next expansion? Theories are fun, because even though many believe they are proving something plausible with fact, they are simply using other theories. That’s an infinity of looping theories all based on what we see around us.

You can romanticize the universe, talk about stars being born in the heat of two bodies coming together, the gravity of one mass’ attraction to another, but in the end that just brings it back to how you see humanity. One person is attracted to the other, they might as well be made of matter, giant deposits floating in space until they pass by each other, notice the other, and gravitate together into one, thus creating life thanks to another being that supports them with energy and light (unless they are that stable couple who support another). Could that analogy be any better? It relates perfectly to humans, or at the very least, the survival instinct.

Another method of looking at science is, well, scientifically. Look at the numbers, laws, and theories that make sense to a greater mind. This purely mathematical view tends to be calculated and cold, just like how a world without imagination or without choice would be. In the writer’s continuum, that connection is the most apparent, but more on that next. I will do my best to bring all the infinities together in the next chapter. It will blow your mind, or if not, it might make you question where you really are in the possible existences.

Meanwhile, the galaxy is all spinning out or spinning shut, creating a universe within a universe, like the writer’s continuum. There are galaxies that look much different than ours, yet that must have some truly interesting physics behind it, no? All in all, science is not limited to the stars, yet we all seem to exist from them, so we feel the same pull up as we feel a pull to the ocean, where all organisms cooked to ones prospering now, maybe even too much.

We came from something small, evolved yearning to live, with the help of imagination and choice. Once, we were just food for some other being, until we decided to stand up and become something more, or in this case, bind together and create something entirely different than before. In that turnaround, we could now be consuming something that once consumed us in the evolutionary chain. Our minds helped us learn hunting to get enough food and warm ourselves when the world grew cold. On the surface of our cooking earth, we came from a miniscule point just like the universe came from that one single something, just like choice came from that one start. Infinity is a weird term, for it can never be singular. Within infinity is an infinite number of infinities. That hurts the mind to think about, but it widens the view.

With this defining belief of existence, we feel better, yet fear a whole lot more of what we cannot understand. If this faith was free to do as it wished, never clashing with the beliefs thought up to protect the way some live their lives, we could very well be in space already, no longer needing to breathe, or fearing anything out there. Would we still be humans in that state? Not very likely, but to be honest, we are quite squishy beings. We surround ourselves by technology and survive through community, but we are weak to other beings out there that could have mastered life and distilled it to be better. That choice of whether we make the same sacrifices will be the end of us, or the persistence that keeps us going.

 All matter matters to some other matter. That’s a very fun quote to make up on this day, February 14^th, Valentine’s Day. It embellishes that one feeling that has been persistent in humanity, yet never purely defined by science. There are theories for love, chemical reactions of pheromones, genes seeking better ones to survive longer, perception recognizing qualities that would help bring up stronger life as the next generation, yet all play with the idea that this emotion, the chemical reaction in the brain, cannot be anything more than what it is calculated to be. It is the mind that doesn’t want to refer to all things as calculations, but some people do. We care, thus we create, and thus we care. It’s just as circular as the imagination’s dance with evolution, almost like one tier down because imagination helps us create, so we care about what we make.

Ah, love has penetrated my psyche though I tried my best to resist it. Perhaps it is just like radiation, but more harmful to the body. Enough about that one thing. This is about SCIENCE! It’s about how things work and how they can never work. It’s about defining all things spiritual, mysterious, unexplained, and alien. This one view of how things operate can be our ticket into the sea of stars, and in many ways, it will be, but since we go there on theories that sometimes fail, lives are lost. They are the brave women and men that are the necessary sacrifices for the faith that is still expanding. Human sacrifice. I wonder why that sounds so familiar.

To inject my opinion into this, and this is, to be clear, just an opinion. All that we know and learn of the scientific ways is because of how we perceive the whole of existence. It is one method, one way to make madness into order in a way that still fosters a great imagination. While we make different people contain themselves into this order, we should consider whether they have a way of life with more freedom than the eternal chains of science and depressing boundaries. That is, until they start biting, then they are just crazy and should be put out of their misery. All of the third infinity is based purely on what we experience, thus this story you are experiencing is all because of science, but I think that loop is a bit dull.

Perception with the senses granted to us, gives us an understanding to survive on our planet, but to exist further, maybe even outside the universe we would need to be something else, no longer just human. This home planet of ours was the start, but it will never be the end of this journey. It is best to use that science religion to become more, rather than stay the same and be eradicated by those who have become more already. Just to be clear, I do not mean Scientology, though they have a fun story for sure. I bet in the times of 0 year, or first and negative first in science terms, the bible was quite an entertaining read just as much, just like the complex science is now.

This all brings me to the center of it all, The Writer’s Continuum. The writers in this endless line of authors, write about everything that I just talked about. It all depends on where in this continuum you are, what tier you believe to be and whether you create in whatever manner you are able. Like I said, anything is creation, but do not be limited by choice or science. Don’t just focus on the most likely, most popular. Challenge ideas and create your own. Write ideas down, and explore them. Create worlds in which anything is possible and perhaps by the end of all that, when your story ends you will be granted a place among all those stories floating in this place I like to call the Infinity Void. Who knows? For now, let’s get back to connecting everything with the ethereal thread of my mind into the web of what can be, could be and what is.

The Fourth Infinity: The Writer’s Continuum

 

This is all about you. You were the start of it, and will take part in this whether you like it or not. It’s a choice, but one made for you. If you don’t want to hear this, read this, see this, just stop here, and burn this book (if you can, probably won’t be printed anytime soon). It won’t help, but it might make you feel a bit better about the situation that all of this, the whole of existence, is like your own personal space. In that respect, I’m just a part of your incorporeal body, say your soul, talking to you from within your mind. Maybe you are sleeping and there is nothing real yet because you have not created anything. This would be the top tier, the most narcissistic of positions in the writer’s continuum, the top of the food chain, the ruler of existence.

As the top of the top in the continuum, the world would all be part of you, from insane individuals that see the world fractured, to those lost in the world, looking for a home. This comes from a story I do remember, but do not know the author’s name. Names were never very important to me, and that could define me as some part of you that isn’t very social. How do you feel about being all of existence? You can be anyone, embody anyone in this “matrix” of yours, and you are, but the mind you currently possess will never let you do that.

Though many love to think of themselves as the top tier of this strand of writer and written, let’s drop a tier, to the first level that feels the presence of something greater than it. On the second level, you still control a world of your own. That never changes. You have freedom to tell your story, or create stories of a life you want to lead, but feel that all that you do has been predetermined, or that above you, there is someone who directs you, who is responsible for your existence. This being above takes ownership for your pitfalls, and at triumphs you thank them for allowing those moments of joy. With that, you are already subservient to this being, no matter how little you believe it.

There are three states to this writer’s continuum, though the middle part is so impossible to quantify, it truly contains an infinity. Can you really call this one of the infinities if there is a top and a bottom? Not knowing if there is a top or a bottom, makes this into an infinity, or in some strange form, a circle. The feeling of superiority had to come from somewhere, thus it must be an evolution of the theory that many are just itching to disprove with more theories, thus looping us even more. All of these confusing loops and lines interact into the most impossible of a surface. Yet why would it be flat? This existence expands just as a star would, in all possible directions. Life is an orb? No, an orb has limits. It must be an infinite sphere, ever expanding with no constant to measure it with.

If that hurts your brain to picture, you should take a break. I’m only starting to connect everything. This writer’s continuum cannot exist without the third state of being, the most subservient and meek of all, yet also the most caring and understanding. It’s almost like a science of class grouping. The higher you go in class, in money, the less you care for others, while the lower you go, the more people bind together and survive with strength of community. And yet, there are outcasts of the lower tiers, shunned and prepared for death by others. That’s not something easily fixed anywhere, especially in the writer’s continuum. This state would be the very lowest of the low, the bottom of the continuum.

If I’m using the word “continuum” wrong, do understand, I’m only borrowing it for my own purposes. So in that last state, the most bottom of the theory, we find a human being that connects to the pain of others through past experiences. This one being has felt that sort of misery that destroys a person from the inside. With this in mind, she or he decide not to push this sort of feeling into a story further down, only live to the end of the misery that is he or she. This would be someone that has been hurt so many times that there is no coming back from it, yet still exists for some reason, perhaps because of the existence of all the tiers above her/him that helped create this sorry state.

Even though this person is in the last struggles of life, it would be the kindest being ever, never judging, never lying, only living and watching others live happy lives. Let’s say he’s the unsung hero of this story, the slave to the writer’s continuum. That place is somewhere nobody wants to be, and our survival instincts often help us get out of such places through human interaction. In a realistic view, that person would not live long, seeking refuge from the endless pain. Any positive thing would elevate that state to the middle one. Only one being can be this third state. Don’t you feel sad for that one sacrifice? If so, then good. If you can feel, you’re on the right track to being human.

This is about to get a hedge of a lot more confusing. Use whatever imagination you have to create a specter of yourself in the darkness of your mind. Whatever you can muster will do. Even the smallest of imaginations should be able to muster a dot of light in that nothing. That is you. That something is the representation of you in your mind, but this isn’t a dot at all, is it? This is in fact a line that is only seen in one dimension. If you were to view it from another angle, it would no longer be your existence, and you would be a spectator of all that follows.

This line, or row of whatever you imagine yourself to be, is the start. At first, throw choice in there. Where you saw a dot, you will see the choices expand beyond the one to an infinite amount of stacked points that compress onto each other so much that they look solid from further away. That would be a plane of existence. With relation to just one parameter. That line I told you about, it is now all of the space you see, but you only see an infinite plane. Imagination provides the view of a spectator, and thus you can finally move around in existence you created out of choice, but there is nothing in here but emptiness and infinite space. The universe comes in handy here.

It’s all about decorating your space, using that tool you have to distribute a universe into this space. At the end, you’re god of this space. You created it out of one dot, one line, one plane, and now, with decoration, it creates life itself. What does this idea of mine give you? You have an infinite space, and you have control to move around, but to this place you are only a camera, something invisible that watches all that happens.

The writer’s continuum gives you a role to play in this existence you spectate. It gives you the role of creator and manipulator. You have no medium yet, but can create whatever you want with just a thought. Every movement, iteration of imagination, changes the way you see this space. In that role of director, you throw whatever you want into the space and let life do with it what it will, nudging it along with things like nature. This is your garden, and you can grow flowers that carry perfumed scents, or grow poisons to destroy those flowers. You can create and destroy in your very own world, like a game.

That endless space is only contained by your own mind. You can explode the current world and imagine a new one being born right in front of you. You can drift into the sea of stars without a shred of fear and consume stars, or watch them blossom worlds with new life. When you open your eyes, all of the things you created, destroyed, imagined happen, all fade away to the current of time. It will never be the same again, never as beautiful as the first time you saw it, but you will close your eyes again, and create this infinite space all over again, filling it with even more of the things you experience beyond it.

We have officially strayed from the idea of the Writer’s Continuum, but I’m ok with it for the most part. The fourth infinity gave you a way to change this existence within your mind, but what of the existence you see when you open your eyes again? In that space, this space, you play a smaller role, and as per the fourth, there is another above you that imagines you for that amount of time you closed your eyes to do this, if you did it. I’m not forcing you to do anything. If you don’t like it, you have that freedom, but I like to get lost in my mind sometimes, progressing to near-insanity by scientific standards.

Now then, there is a way to make the imagined existence stay, and that is where you use the first, choice. What you choose is the medium of your imagination. But wait, wasn’t that the first infinity you applied to the dot in your mind? Boom. That’s it. You choose to record that which you saw, thus creating it in your world. With that, you expand upon this one choice, or many, and get a solid plane of creation within each choice. These planes could intersect, or run parallel, or even overlap, but that expansion is imagination that expanded the plane in your mind to an infinite. In this instance that creation makes planes, a map to the inside of your mind, just one tier down from what you saw in the existence of your mind.

Inside that map of planes, the writer’s continuum cannot help you anymore. You have created a foundation for reality with your actions. What grows these planes into overlapping spaces, is just one thing, time. Time spent on each plane of creation extrudes it from zero point into the limit that is your life, but that map never goes away. Creation is connected to and is always symbiotic with life. One plane could be a child, and as this child grows, they extrude a plane in your life, while creating their own in mind-space to chase after their own impossible things. Those maps of extruded spaces create a structure, a texture, matter and all that science believes it to be, down to the smallest of particles and energies like electrons.

That’s just my view of it all, and if you try to jump into my mind, you will never get out. In the end, we’re all a story, each of us, all written by our very own person. That’s the bland overview. The exciting one is that we are within you, and all of the good and bad is just your system of existence locating errors and trying to wipe them out. The ultimately depressing view of it is that you are close to or at the very bottom of the continuum, only waiting for life to end, but many people think of themselves as insignificant. With all these infinities to expand upon, it’s easy to feel small in all this.

In terms of science, we are miniscule. In terms of choice, we are just one iteration in the infinite multiverse. In imagination, we are significant, but only if we want to be. In the writer’s Continuum, we are the writer, the main character, and the rest of the cast. All of them have one thing in common, the fact that you ARE. At least, I like to think so. No matter how small you feel, or how big your ego, the fact that you ARE is the great equalizer. So what of dead people? Those among the world that have left the “realm” of the living, never really leave, do they? That’s what caring is for, remember that one circle? We create thus we care, thus we create.

This won’t be a full book, so if you brave the mind-expanding thoughts, expect to read it fast. I will not dramatize beyond the necessary, or romanticize to reach my star. What goes on here is only what needs to. Remember, this is my imagination tricking yours to think the same, but is tricking always so bad? This isn’t a joke to make fun of you. This is a bit of written text, my chosen medium, to explore an idea of how insignificant the word “infinity” is in relation to existence, and yet I use this to draw people in, if any have been drawn in. These words could very well just be floating out there in the depths of the internet, never to be seen by another. I’m making it such a treasure, but in that gold-plated chest could be a whole load of excrement instead.

I can’t decide that what I’m writing is worth anything. That’s for the other parts of me, or for other beings, to judge. The idea will clash, there will be conflict in your mind with what you know and what I’ve said, but conflict is always there, like change. Ah! Change! How could I forget to mention such a vital part of existence? In short, change is a creation of the mind, meant to stop the expansion of the universe, choice, imagination, subconscious, and the writer’s continuum. Or was that lack of change? The reason change exists as a word is to describe a time when nothing changes, which is, well, absolutely never. That’s the real trick of the mind, eh?

With those infinites defined and connected, I must explore the few subjects that irk me a bit, but are also quite brilliant. They are the trio of half-infinites that are harder to believe, tying into the other four in many ways like the subconscious and evolution ties into imagination, or technology ties into the universe (science infinity), or how time ties into choice, or medium into writer’s continuum. They are the misfits of existence, but with the other four, make seven. No… That’s just like… Seven days… There is more, don’t panic (like Hitchhiker’s Guide, get it?). I’m not just writing this to push the idea of god, but faith is implied in any idea. Theories can only be disproven and all that jazz. They are: Quantum Physics, Fantasy, and Nonsensical Sciences.

Fantastic Quantum Nonsense

 

Now, please don’t be angry. I know, I know, quantum physics is a real thing that can be measured and all that fun stuff that has to do with science. I am simply putting it together to equate to the four infinities that are the top dogs. In this part, you will come to hate me the most. I’ll belittle these three things to the fullest extent of the law of infinite. There is no such thing as the “law of infinite”, or if there is, I don’t really care. Fantasy is imagination on overdrive, Quantum is science on overdrive, and nonsensical science is, well, imagination again, but as if you intentionally made it oppose the universe and all the laws it provided.

The argument is, how is fantasy different from nonsensical science? They both make stuff up that the third would hate. In case you didn’t get it yet, I will be using “first” through “fourth” to reference the before infinities and utilize them better. Where fantasy doesn’t even begin argue with science, nonsensical science aims to infuriate the third. Fairies are quite a great topic to bring up in relation to fantasy, and science wouldn’t even bat an eyelash to counter such preposterous of a being in existence. As for nonsensical sciences, let’s borrow from a movie about time travel, and yes, I understand it plays into quantum physics too, the flux capacitor from the DeLorean.

For the purposes of this explanation, let us consider this one device that allows movement between time as science fiction, the subset of both nonsensical sciences and quantum mechanics. It’s like a bridge. Now, you must be upset if you are a fan of the series, many people are, but I’m not saying that this device doesn’t exist or won’t ever exist. Only science can say that for theory-sure. All that can’t exist, will. That’s science fiction. All that can exist, already does. That one is Fantasy. All that might be, is. That would be the Quantum Physics (or something related to it). The laws of science are meant to be broken. That would be the nonsensical sciences, though sounds a lot like science fiction. I believe I demonstrated how they differ. It is a matter of respect to the third.

Let’s start off with Fantasy. This part of imagination fosters our understanding of romantic notions that we don’t yet understand, but also the scary sides of those notions. The unbound creation of creatures, initially created from human fears, faults and features, exist to populate your mind in case you would ever need to retreat into it. Often bound to the way of life and religion, these mistakes of evolution, miracles of being, are how a mind can twist something as insignificant as a mutation into a whole new creature. In many cases, these new creatures are human or can at least blend into the crowds. They live a hidden life that when exposed gives their life a whole new meaning, or ends it through fear.

Vampires are in this category, though with a faith where you drink blood of some guy that was bound to occur. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to step on religious toes. Everyone is free to believe what they want to, but know that others are free to take anything decreed holy, out of context. Do you hate me yet? If not, you probably will after this chapter is done. All creatures, large and small, have once been just a spark of imagination at a confusing sight. In those instances, mythologies sprung up depicting those in tale of what once was. Some person hollowed out a head of a bull and wore it as a mask, and so another thought to put it into his story as a creature of the labyrinth. Believe in something enough, and it will be true, somewhere.

Fantasy comforts us, the human race, while also binding us to the world. Some views make the world appear so fantastic, or create wondrous places that science can’t even fathom to explore, though tries to anyway. I could drop names here, connect to what fostered an imagination of fantasy within my own mind, but I might already get in trouble for railing on the time-travelling car. Know that there are many created worlds of wonder that stray so far from the third that science has nothing to say about it, from sentient metal-morphing beings to organic hives of alien kind.

Before I continue to Quantum Physics, or probability, or theory, I want to touch on Science Fiction. Yeah, I don’t know which Quantum it actually is. Isn’t that just ridiculous that I can even have an opinion on it when I don’t fully understand it? I tried to research it, but why devote so much time to something that is only meant to confuse. If something is necessary to know, it would find a simple way to exist and be described easier. Maybe that’s just my ignorant self on the prowl. I bet some people who understand Quantum stuff hate me right now. So, SciFi, what is it? This imagining of what can’t be, is the closest thing science has to praying. The idea is, imagine it how you want it to be, and then expand all efforts to make it real. The prime example is the lightsaber.

This device which somehow contains a thick beam of laser light into a length that can be measured while still preserving the other qualities of intense energy. This has been romanticized in a way, and many sought to create their own version of a beam cutting things with the ease of a hot knife cutting butter, yet in that craving for that weapon, people found a common interest, binding together, sacrificing time, to create it. That’s how fiction would become reality through the expanding science, though scifi likes to stray further and further away, until the only thing left is time. That brings me to Quantum.

It’s a broken mind that thinks only of boundaries. The reason for this science, or theory, or I don’t know, is to break the laws prescribed to humanity by science, the theories upon theories, like turtles on a turtle’s back and all the way down. Heh. If you got that reference, good for you. That’s more fantasy than quantum, but it was just a comparison. This quantum plays with all aspects that could be possible within the confines of science and some that are impossible, yet connected directly to it. It deals with interactions of particles on subatomic levels, and how that would impact our lives. Oh, I’m about to make a whole lot of people hate me, but I must explore this half-infinity. Let’s take the TARDIS, that blue box which is actually a time-travelling machine. I won’t drop the show’s name.

This idea of a compacted dimension is science fiction, but isn’t it also related to quantum stuff? It’s my best guess that anything having to do with time and how humans interact in it is related to quantum.There are many other things that relate to it, but for some strange reason, I feel this quantum idea is most closely related to how time flows and the crinkles in said time. A paradox, something that only exists if two timelines intersect, has a strange correlation to what is possible within all the derivations of reality. If I’m close to what this science depicts, then I hope I’m making some kind of sense. This will be the shortest of descriptions of the three half-infinites.

What I know for sure is the one idea of Schrödinger’s cat. It is uncertain whether the cat is in the box or not until the box is opened. I believe that’s a strange example of the uncertainty principle, which is definitely a part of something within Quantum Physics. That’s the most I understand of quantum… probability? I’ve also heard somewhere that in all the deviations of your hand being resisted by the wall due to laws of the third, there is one possibility that your hand will not be opposed by the wall and simply pass through it, like this one character who could phase through solid objects. If that’s not quantum, then I have no idea what is, and should stop talking about it already. If this is it, the infinity exists with probability. Anything is possible, with enough trial.  That is why it’s not a full infinity, but ranks quite high up there with Fantasy.

The last of these three is the truly aggravating idea, one I favor the most, the Nonsensical Science. As I’ve said before, nothing is more depressing than what science says cannot ever happen. Science Fiction fixed that tension, but it remains chained by the theories of a universe, only speculating on the theories and what if they were incorrect. This nonsense urinates on the idea of science, considering it the ultimate annoyance to a world built on theories of perception of human beings. Prime example of this of the three half-infinites, cannot be found easily, but I aim to create some in my writing, connecting it to the writer’s continuum of my medium for creation over time.

If this nonsensical science is to exist, it will surely cause conflict, but to a religion such as science, that is comparable to conflicts between different faiths. Where the universe has theories, faith has, well, faith. Theory is faith, based on more faith, based on life and what it presents itself as. I could go into more detail here to equate different belief systems, but that is not a fight I aim to start. I’ve already shat on the belief of science, but I think they can take it. After all, in their words, we are so small in the universe that we should be very afraid of what else is out there. I’ve heard that somewhere.

For this nonsense to exist, the use of scientific terms must entirely infuriate those who believe in the theories of science. How could this work? Well, let’s say this thing called “light” is actually excrement of some kind. So basking in the light of our sun, is akin to taking a s**t-shower to another being that exists out there. That’s a wonderful example of how little we perceive of that vast “final” frontier. The use of the word “final” makes it feelas though we are predicting our own demise by venturing beyond what gave birth to us, our planet, but all babies must leave the womb in the end, or kill the very container from the inside, much like we are doing right now.

Now imagine that you decided that the universe is real, and that you have a story in it. Boom. That’s putting the four infinities into one sentence. When you get out into the universe, say a million generations from now, and you realize that your solar system was a womb, your galaxy was another, and the universe was only waiting for humanity to get out there eventually. That is the infinity of the universe. It can’t possibly have an end, or science will become just like faith, seeking to a stop. Negative thinking breeds negative ends. I think I twisted that quote around to fit my topic, but it applies.

Thus the half-infinities end, but do they really? There might be more I’m not seeing. Maybe that’s your story to tell. Then off we go to Marble Infinites. It’s self-explanatory, a melding of two infinities to create a kind of reality. Any of the four can merge with any of the three and more that have been vaguely defined. In a way, they’re a pantheon, a way to rank gods, but there is really no comparing these things, as they all fluctuate in the same exact spot of existence, sometimes setting into a reality we perceive.

If you hate me for more than one reason after this chapter, you have every reason to. I’m shitting on fantasy, science and more, but the true thing you should feel is fear. “Infinity” is a word that defines something that is impossible to quantify, to measure. We can only record the progression for however long it takes to live out our lives. That’s the darkness of infinity, pushing the feeling of helpless and meaningless value of life onto you. What darkness can truly exist without some kind of light? Even in your imagination, you begin with a light, and depending on what you come to believe, you end in light, even if it be the fires of hell. This duality casts a null-light onto a smaller universe that we hold within our minds, a universe that is braided into the way we perceive, yet connects more to time than the idea of infinity. It’s a world of how humans live among other humans to counteract that darkness threatening us from every possible corner, with connection and interaction.

 

Interaction and Connections

 

We’ve been to the infinite, and ventured into connections already, but only between ideas. The way we behave among those around us, determines how others will behave around us. Even though, ideas of faith push things onto unknowing youth, they carry some parts that are just meant to help humanity survive. We all progress into chaos, as science dictates. I might be paraphrasing, but what I’ve come to understand from all those theories upon theories, is that entropy always increases, or disorder only ever increases, rises, expands. Things are used up, exhausted, driven to status of “extinct” by life and the constant expansion of the universe. So in this manner of thinking, and without meaning to, by simply living, we are in fact just slowly destroying everything. What a cheery thought, eh? You can’t win, I believe was one of the laws.

Let’s expand upon this expansion into death. We might be doing that, but what could hold us together? As humans, at least, we interact and form connections. Even though we progress into chaos, those links that defy time, space, and infinity, hold us all together. This doesn’t factor into the material world too much, so if you are a person who exists within materials surrounding you, let that material comfort the holes inside your heart. Any interaction with your material things, and any matter for that matter, is a connection.

It’s nice to imagine that anything you look at, touch, or interact with, creates a glowing string spanning the distance between you and that object or person. This string will never break, only expand to distances as you distance yourself from this connection. Eventually, this world becomes a tangled web of strings, always moving. That would be a world of strings, an imagined version of how I see the world of connections sometimes, but to others, these threads are invisible, yet always exist in their mind as incorporeal connecting tethers, at least to things we care for more than most, like family, partners, and social circles.

This is a difficult chapter to dive into, being not very social myself, but it’s important. What you really need to know from this, is that human life is most important to human life. That makes a sort-of circle of reasoning, yet while focused on human life, we ignore the life that dies so that we may live, our food. The food chain is an interaction of humanity with the world around them, and know that what you eat, digest, and expel, is all connected to you in the same way social interaction is.

Love is a strong connection, but can often be used to trick. It’s a primal instinct to create more life, progress further into the chaos of the world while writing your own story and embellishing what the author a tier above is doing as necessary acts. Love plays a funny song in all that. It’s a dancing needle of connection and interaction, avoiding all the negatives, but also piercing your existence at moments you do not expect. Later on in life, you realize that this connection, this string that love left through you as a memory, doesn’t really go away. Love and loss go hand-in-hand, so if you have lost someone, that string might be the connection pulling you back to where they are, where the remnants of what they were was buried or dispersed, maybe mummified.

I’m not much into destiny and all that, as that is based on faith, and trusting is difficult to a mind so tormented by stories from the void. What I can speculate on is how all those interactions and connections form in the present. Some of them are stronger than others, but all exist to cradle our fears and help us pretend we are not being the ultimate douchebags to everyone around us. Human life is important to human life, but to others, we must feel like a dictatorship. Who cares? While they can’t stand up and oppose us, our lives are pure bullying. Tricky things sometimes get us from under that blanket we place to hide away our wrongdoing. That’s the heavy aspect of connections, but it’s all for survival. The world would function just as well, or even better, without us there to fill our bellies with other life. It’s a cycle, repeating, yet not infinite.

On the lighter side of things, humans interact with each other, boil into conflicts, and do their best to resolve them, but as I’ve stated, we all progress into chaos. The issues of the world might be due to the fact that we haven’t yet left the womb that is Earth, but if we did, wouldn’t we just bully space, try to make everything into our subservient? That is where our fear plays a good role, the most natural of responses to something unknown.

We could go out there, into the dark, split off into different beings that can live in the coldness of space with the use of our science, but connection would always pull us back to our origin, our “home”, like the sea once was, like space once was. So would we really be going into a place that is scary? We came from the stars, so we feel connected to them. That’s one theory, upon theories that love to be just as wondrous as depressing. Clashing ideas create conflict create new clashing ideas that strive for new things. That loops over itself into a Celtic-style knot that seems to never end, while also expanding into a fabric, into all dimensions and even beyond those.

Of the four infinites I’ve brought up, all have connections to us. Choice hits upon what we choose to believe, what we decide to connect to for ease of communication between others in the world. Imagination connects us in dreams of future with other people, putting past differences aside or even embracing the integration of different chosen faiths. Those beliefs connect us all in hope for a future, thus furthering the spread of said belief. The universe connects us all in wonder of what could be out there that we have yet to see and explore, interacting to create that future of exploration and awe.

All of those connect to you, everyone, yet I wonder if this will ever reach everyone. This are conditioned words of everything that I wish to give away, but feel the need to sell. Perhaps it’s the torment I feel that drives me to greed, and in that respect, my trust is the thing that suffers the most. To blatantly convert a quote to my favor: “I am become greed, the destroyer of trust.”I create connection within myself, to worlds I see, rather than further the human genetic make-up that craves to be propagated. I would be remiss to skip over the fact that I create stories, so I will inject a story of connection next, a human tale of basic things. Yes, it will feature love, since as humans, we all crave it in some form.

 

There was once a woman living in such poverty, only her body was an aspect people sought to exploit. She had nothing, save for what came out of putting her heart out there. Many times she sought to find someone in the ocean of faces that would not trick her or use her for their own means, and yet she was always let down. Now, with two kids who learned their own lessons in the harsh world, this woman did anything she could to provide them with a chance to escape this place. There was nothing holding her there, yet she stayed. It was home that she connected to from childhood, but it was a withered skeleton of what she knew.

The two children, a girl and a boy, only a few years apart, steeled her heart against more seeking only to use her. Her life was a struggle for the future of her children, and she never wavered from that, because she was sure they would live better lives and have more than she ever did. Every day, she resisted advances of men just like the others before. She remained cold and focused on what she created, what she cultivated from within her. Her kids would be the ones to live out there, even if it meant she had to give up her whole life.

The boy was six at the time, already learning the harsh lessons of the world, where his sister kept a positive outlook. To him, his mother was a caring person, but the older he got, the more he realized how much pain she must have been enduring for him and his sister. Raising children in such a place was madness, yet every night, she came by the blankets they slept on to talk to them of worlds beyond that she saw when she was young. That was her hope, her only prayer. She wanted them to dream of more than she could give them. Only for them did this woman have an open heart. Only those two ever saw her smile, laugh, and feel her warmth.

The girl was four, still not comprehending why things happened as they happened. At times, she was mad at the mother because other girls had parents of higher class. The mother was doing her best to keep them fed, but the girl wanted what the other children had. Her brother often spoke to her, trying to explain why they could not have expensive things, but she was too young to care. Their interaction grew strained, but they still loved their mother, deep down.

Over the years, the two children grew up to hate their mother, an early step into adulthood where only bad memories of the past surfaced. The girl learned to steal things she wanted, but the mother feared for her safety. The boy sought to help his mother support the household, while still angry that she let herself be degraded so much. He vowed to never be like her, but she never had anything else other than love to give. On the inside, her heart was drying and cracking from the wavering connection. It was always there, yet unspoken too long, it pulled at the physical heart, straining it to extremes.

As the boy found work and left home, the mother was only left with the daughter who boasted of running wild with other boys. Though the mother warned her of men who’d only use her, not interested in the heart, the girl was still hostile toward her. The mother was glad that her son left the place that she braved, but longed to speak to him, to hold him like she did when he was just a child. That longing pulled at her old tired heart, trying to draw him back to her, but all she could do was hope. It wasn’t long until the daughter left the home with a boy who had the eyes of her father, hungry for flesh. The mother protested, but the daughter lashed out and left.

Alone, the mother who sacrificed everything for her two children, kept to a routine, saving money that she often used for their food so that when her daughter returned pregnant, crying and alone, the mother was there. Her heart was revived, and yet the woman feared the same end for her daughter as she decided to lead. All she could do was support that baby she brought up in love, and hope that she would return the favor when it came time for the woman to leave once and for all.

In a few years, her son returned to that place to find he had a niece. Overjoyed that his sister had a child, he invited her out of the harsh environment, to stay with his wife. He returned on that thread of connection, though many years later. There were many things he did not remember about his mother, all the pain he caused her, but knew she struggled to give him the best chance, and was grateful for every second.

When the time came to take the mother out of that place, she could not leave. Both children asked her why she would stay in a place saturated with so much pain and sorrow, but she shook her head. The woman kissed them both on the forehead before they left. She said that her home was this place, and that all that she ever wanted, already came true, and that her dreams are now in their minds, for better lives. Not long after her children left, the woman died. The pressure of longing to them tired her heart out to exhaustion. She simply fell asleep, yet those invisible strings that bound her to the children, brought them back to find her at peace, having sacrificed everything for love.

 

Though not a work of truth, this story presents itself as believable, and it should. The sacrifices that parents make are often overlooked, but it’s also true that some parents enter that world with previous pain they transfer onto the children. So we are progressing into disorder, are we not? We are shaped by pain of our past, of their past, of their parent’s past, and yet, we strive to connect better, find the right people to fuel us. We seek that which can make us better, as to counteract that draining container of structured everything.

Our connections shape us, just as wrong choices do. Interactions between human beings on the emotional and physical levels are not infinite, but we don’t really feel like counting them, just like hair. They fluctuate too rapidly to keep track of. It’s like a bumbling knot of existence that tangles ever more so with every new string, thus creating conflicts between people. There is no simple solution, but it’s better to know all of this when facing the looming infinity and the feeling of insignificance in choice, imagination, the universe, or even your own story.

In the end, well, in my opinion, we crave nothing greater than to connect with others, even the sea, even the stars and whatever may be beyond the universe. At sixteen thousand words, I’m still thinking this is a readable speculative writ, but many others write of these things, of that I am sure. If this ever reaches you, connects to you, makes you feel anything, even anger, make sure to voice it. I’m just a small insignificant part of your mind, remember? Or am I another mind trying to trick yours with an imagination overdrive? Or am I god and my words are sacred? I don’t really care either way, but if you’re this far you must have liked something along the way.

So with that in mind, I guess I should end it here. Hmm. I wanted to end with a joke of something related to this, but I guess this is an end I wasn’t expecting. I know. Come on. I’ll show you a part of my mind that is my very own idea, a place that might exist elsewhere in many names, yet I call it only one thing, the Infinity Void.

 

The Infinity Void

 

In the search for these infinities, though just ideas, I’ve come to realize that my life revolves around something small in the exceptionally large existence I am describing. I stopped seeking what humans can’t stop looking for. It was as if I flipped a switch, accepting that it would be better to stop looking than face more letdowns, and yet, I found the exact same thing in solitude that I found in seeking connection. Perhaps it was the gnawing feeling of disappointment from within, cowardice of experiencing life to the fullest extent, but I retreated like a turtle.

Returning to you however, many perceive that feeling of being insignificant to the world, other than a handful of pure narcissists. With this much flooding the imagination and theory, it’s easy to drown, and that is where the previous chapter saves us with connections and interactions within this contained life growing without end. What would YOU like to be infinite? Can’t your imagination make that happen? Who says that imagination can’t exist? Maybe the method of looking within yourself is simply peering through the barriers of the universe, into places you already exist in. Everything is possible, and if you want it to be known by others, find a medium, create something, but never be upset if they aren’t paying attention. They have their own stories to tell, to create and grow.

We are told many things happen in death, yet a theory is just as good as a hope. Wouldn’t it make some sense that the only thing we leave behind is our material body? It’s another theory. What if what we are left with at the end, is our imagination? If you believe that you did well, you might see the light that takes you to your imagination where heaven is waiting. That’s the closest positive view from my forced youth religion, but I’ve expanded from that. However expansive your mind is, that is how intricate your afterlife will be. It strikes a certain note, but in reality it’s just an idea. The place I believe in, is one such idea I devised that makes the most sense in relation to the main story of this little piece, the Writer’s Continuum.

This one last infinity is one purely out of my mind, but maybe it’s more. I’ve named it: The Infinity Void. It’s meant to clash between endless existence, and none. Put plainly, it is where all the stories go once they are over, so they can never really be over. They simply go into the void, a space which has no space, or time, or matter, and they float around, and while your story might be in there, floating in the infinite container, you are free to roam that place after you die, watching stories of others.

In this space, you become a gem, or your story does. This gem glows, and reflects other light, thus creating a dazzling, impossible universe of gems with some space in-between to emphasize the void.These stories are there to entice you, amaze you, but you are there alone. Having no craving to human wants of connection, you can become a pure observer, with an infinity of things to watch. Now pump all the infinities into that Infinite Void, as all could exist inside each of the stories, each gem. The mind feels so stuffed imagining that, it might become pain. That is where I am.

Yet, this afterlife of watching these stories only exists after you die. While we are still alive, many, no, all of us, have limited access to this void, and all those stories. Most of us ignore this. Some use what we see in our lives with the knowledge that is all technically sourced from the stories presented as knowledge, and we invent new things, think up more things to improve upon and explore. This place is the end of all life, yet we source everything we are and will be from it without knowing we are doing it.

Many of my stories stream from that infinity void. Often, I don’t even want to see them, and that is my torment, but so many ideas come through when I close my eyes, that it drowns me. Not all of them are great stories, thus it’s even worse that these “trickles of life” I watch, cannot help me build a life through writing. I record them all, because it could be the only chance they have to exist outside of the infinity void, and many ignore them already.That’s what I came up with in solitude of my own choosing, and in that, I think my own story of life will not be much interest to people in the void, but given the infinite nature of that one contained space, and the endless time all the dead have to watch, someone will one day read a story of who I was, and all that I was. That’s enough for me.

All sorts of stories exist in this one place, and they will never stop playing in that impossible space. There will be tales of endless chaos, inescapable gore, chilling horror, eternal love, gripping sadness, badass action, wondrous adventure, boundless exploration, continuous creation, feverish stressors, exploding aggression, simple monotony, confused connections, ideas of existence, and many more yet undefined ways to explain life from perspectives of such impossible creatures and sentient beings. That place is just an idea, one of thousands in my mind, but to you I’m just words on a page, or a screen. Another human being seeking to take from you something that you use to live and give you no promises of anything. I’m a theory, but so is everything else.

In all that, sufficed to say, chaos, there is a being that eats it all up, consuming worlds, stories, and anything that has become so corrupted and impossible to watch. It cleans that Infinity Void up so that those who go there with their own imaginations, can venture about without destroying their own appetite for being spectators. In all essence, that being is an invention of mine, and may not really exist, but if it does, your story might end up in the belly of that creature. Call it a cautionary tale, but only believe it if you want to. Same goes for this whole thing really.

It’s nice to choose what you want, even if you imagine that the universe is the only thing endless, understand that in the end, we are all stories for whatever is out there and ourselves, all travelling in the Infinity Void to be read by someone. That’s all we really want, to be understood by someone around us. For me, I retreated within, and what emerged was this, perhaps a huge pile of nothing, but that’s for you to decide. Whether you got something out of this or not, thank you. Life just wouldn’t exist without you. No specific person in mind, though the star is tugging with a string at my heart. In the end, there is only you, just you, the vague you of all of you, whoever you are.

 

What did existence say to infinity?

Nothing.

Author's Note

The grammar is bad, and it feels a bit ranty, but it has some fun ideas of the world. Don't know how to get them out there.