This Great Society - Issue 6 - The Future

Thoughts and Analysis

Rune Davidsen

Quantum Tears by Rune Davidsen
Rune Davidsen


A quantum of tears fell. The city is a citadel, as well as a living hell, where chaos reigns. Rays of light, sutures in the night, crystalline azure, glistened in the rain. Succumbing to the nostalgic, taking refuge in the mundane; I’m walking down memory lane, through a capillary network of coiled, velvet veins. I’m seeking an asylum for the sane, a fortress of solitude secluded in the heart of a crystal metropolis. Digital gravestones along the necropolis, video greetings of the populous, lead me along the path to the towering acropolis.

As sepia seeps through the twilight, superimposed on stagnant puddles of decandence, reflecting a neon highrise illuminated by a lemon limelight; a firefly hovered before me, vibrating and iridescent, its presence incandescent, cutting through the night like the crescent of the moon. Within a chrome cocoon, trajectories of my thoughts morph from an absence of substance into sentient protoplasm. Phantom vector lines trace the lament and equilibrium of my unilateral descent: my path of perseverance in this miasm. Much like a bottomless chasm of sarcasm, a convex fold, or elevation in the brain is telling me it’s all a phantasm.

An aura of soliloquies instilled in me, the sapience of my sentience, prevents me from plummeting into a depth of despair I can’t fathom. I suppose I’m out of repose, as such is agony when feelings expose at random. The words on the paper are just shadows of my thoughts. Amorph. I sense the sentences. Disfigured. Misprinted. The pictures become whispers. I can hear the future spoken in the distance. Resistance is futile. Beguiled. I took shelter in a dream, but it buried me alive, now I reside submersed in liquid, trapped inside a hibernation capsule reliving the day I died, and my love with it.

The first time I met her, my eyes gazed – as a wormhole ripped open the fabric of space, which I took as a sign to close with an embrace. Living under a sky where no sun streaks, I always thought the future seemed bleak, and that darkness would fall upon us all – until I felt her lips on my cheek. Sweet fragrance, flower‐scented, surrounds me in your presence. Tears perspire. My eyes sore red from the smell of burning incense and souls on fire. Your face cut in sapphire, a jewel more precious than the grandest diamond. Curving through cosmos like a meteor stream, a love so pure, sublime, serene – a dream contemptuous of space and time.

An experiment gone wrong, sound accumulates at the bottom of her lungs. She touches the sheathe of the cable, sliding it through the hollow of her hand. The ear drums vibrates, hypnotic rhythms, as the full voltage of the current ran through her system. There’s a spark in her eyes, a red glow in her pupils, a chaotic beauty, which compensates for the vigorous motion of her body. Her breaths are short, the pulse is slow. I could see it in her eyes, frozen tears too cold to face. Revived aboard a colony ship in space, I’m tired of this cryogenic nightmare that I can’t erase.

Red snow. I’m bleeding flakes of ice shaped like the petals of an arctic rose. Draped in a mistral cloak, I’m a ghost, departing the body that used to be my host. If only you could see through my flesh, watch my heart as it glows, purple distress signals flashing in morse codes. And as luck would have it, after the odds were set, and the sun spun like a golden marble in a galactic roulette, I asked to bet my soul for a glimpse into the future. I was promised to peer through a rift in space and time before an omnipotent ethereal entity closed the suture.

Correlated particles depart from the core of my heart. Contents concentrated on the constant flux. Conjunctions are copulative, tear channels become aqueducts. My cerebral cortex is like a vortex which itself destructs. I blend with the fabric of origami dreams in the eternal sleep. Folding a solitary retreat where I will rest in peace. Forever wondering when I will awake. The light in the end of the tunnel spins in retrogrades. Conchlias that never took shape still felt the calm contrasts to the constant rhythm of my exponential heart rate. Death: it is a distance measured in one deep breath. The last exhale.

Beneath a steel sky blocking the sun, I felt like I weighed a ton. Resting on pillows of clouds, a shroud of darkness surrounds me. Infinity my boundary. I felt very much at peace, as the sun circled around the rim of a black hole and the gravity of the situation began to increase. I saw the sun set, in a pocket of space where time is known to freeze. Expecting my chances to spiral out of control, I decided to keep my soul, leave the future alone, and give back the time I stole to be born again. My friend, you could drain your life, and not know your heart is in it. Fold your hands with me, time is infinite. I pray from this moment on, to my last deciding minute: my spirit will not be a ghost if there’s no soul in it.


This Great Society - Contents
This Great Society - Contents This Great Society - Arts This Great Society - Creative Writing This Great Society - Thoughts and Analysis This Great Society - Formalities This Great Society - Contents