The I

A science fictioney parable of consciousness as seen through the eyes of various sentient creatures.

T H E     I


        The I, for as long as it could remember, had always existed. And the I, the I felt, would always exist. And even if it would end somewhere, in some wayward backyard of the universe, a place not even known to itself, wouldn't the I be complete yet unto itself?

What the I was, the I could not completely fathom, for it was not intellectual, per se. The I was more like pure consciousness. And with consciousness, especially consciousness of oneself, the I became synonymous with desire. The desire to survive. Thus, it sped through the endless black of the cosmos, seeking its home, a host life form.

Who knows how many days, months and years the I sped through space, for even those time durations are meaningless. But at the precise present in which it always found itself, the I exploded into a fireball of rainbow hues upon hitting the surface atmosphere of a small, nondescript world orbiting a fairly ordinary star, in the outer reaches of a spiraling galaxy.

It was a flash of what amounted to seconds on that world, that illuminated a streak in the sky in the early hours before dawn. If a farmer, having just put on his coveralls, had looked up from tying his boots he might have seen with his naked eye what his eye askance took as sudden lightning.

The I was ablaze for those few seconds until, after tumbling down through the oxygen rich environment, crashed apart the timbers of a barn roof with the sound of splintering beams and a forceful expulsion of hay straw, leaving in the sudden aftermath of its arrival, the hush of a slowly-descending gathering dust.

Of the three horses sleeping in their separate stables, it felled Johnni, the young mare. With a shake of her head and a harrumph from her lips, Johnni became aware she had fallen and quickly, though gingerly, arighted herself.

The other two horses were in a state, neighing and kicking and causing a general ruckus. A light went on in the main house. It was the only light for miles and flickered in the window for a time. Soon, it was extinguished and the world was engulfed in the pervasive claustrophobic blackness once again.

Having stood up, Johnni felt completely the same as before. Nothing was broken, no bone fractured, no muscle bruised. Johnni, both outwardly to anyone who observed her and inwardly to her self, seemed, and in reality, was, completely normal after the I had entered her. But the I, for the first time, could feel the sweet taste of existence!

All of Johnni's senses opened to the I: the musty smell of the barn, the quacking chirp of the green tree frogs, the three hundred fifty degree panoramic view of her dark almost shapeless surroundings, the moist feel of the clay beneath her hooves.  These were thrust upon the I in the familiar way one is urgently aroused from a deep dream with a start.

Furthermore, the I did not regard itself as a separate entity existing inside this exquisite equine form. No, the I had merely become aware. And all of its awareness, was Johnni's awareness.

  
                
                                                            *     *     *     *    


        Johnni was drinking water from her trough when she heard the voice of Maggie, the stable hand who brushed her daily and harnessed her for her rides. When Miss Carole, the owner, was not around, the riding fell to Maggie. Johnni much preferred Maggie on her back. Maggie didn't tug on the reins to gag her the way Miss Carole did. Johnni never felt the sharp bite on her sides with Maggie's boots in the stirrups, only a gentle sting.

"What could have caused it?" Johnni heard these words, muted, from a distance, traveling through the cool crisp morning air.

"Whatever it was, it came from outside. From above."

The barn door opened with a loud groan and light flooded in, illuminating specks of rising dust, a glistening swirl of tiny galaxies.

Miss Carole continued, "See? There's the hole in the roof. Right above Johnni."

Johnni's ears pricked up at the familiar sound of her name. Of course, she understood nothing else of the conversation. But the human sounds back and forth felt comforting, like a strange but pleasurable kind of music.

"I've heard of such things." Maggie's voice now. "Meteorites. Flaming chunks of metal falling from the stars."

"Pray my child, tell me where did you hear of that?"

"The Farmer's Almanac."

"Ah…must be true then."

The two walked nearer to Johnni's stable, looking up, looking down. "Still, there's no hole in the ground," was the quiet puzzled sound from Maggie's lips.

"If it was a meaty -"

"Meteorite," interjected Maggie.

"Yes, meaty-or-rite." pronounced Miss Carole, "We're lucky it didn't burn the entire barn down."

"Johnni, did it give you a fright?" Johnni felt Maggie's cool hands patting her neck. "It did me. I just about flipped over in bed."

"I lit a lantern, looked out the window and saw nothing amiss. I thought I imagined it in my dreams," said Miss Carole.


                    
                                                            *     *     *     *     


        

Author's Note

Tell me if you get the sense that the time period is of mid-19th century, meaning around the time of the Civil War. Thanks.

Reviews

[wlkwih2]

I like the idea a lot. I didn't get the impression of the mid-19 ct., it could be today, but I believe it doesn't matter. It's a philosophical story (loved the meaty- humor!), and I think you did a good job in describing the concept.