Qui Vivra Verra

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Chapter 1

I was given life at the beginning of time. I was there and I was not there at all. I don’t really remember when I was born and, to be honest, nobody does. I wish I could tell you how beautiful it was, the evolution of light as it burst forth, or the chaos that engulfed all planets.

But I cannot. I do not remember.

At that time, all and everything was equal. If there is anything I remember, it was the silent peace in the space between the planets and galaxies. I was always floating around those places, an overseer of the round chunks of magnesium stars, but never able to touch.

I was there and I was not there at all.

I think for a long time I laid dormant. My eyes were closed, a numbness in my form settling for what I think was eons. The planets were more lively, constantly growing and constantly destroying. But they were not fully awake, power tamed and unbridled. Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps they were waiting for me to wake up too.

I do not know who put me there but I assumed all would happen in due time. And so I waited. But I got tired of waiting, as does every healthy human being. I was free to do whatever I wanted and so I woke up. I am forbidden to talk of what happened when Time was born. But I guess it could not hurt to describe a little bit of it to you.

You are so insignificant, after all.

Time was order. They put all into place, and none out of order. They were like a broom, sweeping away the raw chaos I had grown to become attached to when I was sleeping. As Time began to adapt to its surroundings, I could no longer hear the comforting crashing of the galaxies and occasionally, I would hear them crying and weeping, violently sucking in nearby deities in fury. I guessed they could not hear me either.

Time was indifferent. Somewhere along the way, they noticed my presence and I think they sought to exterminate me at one point. But I was doing no harm and so they left me, alone.

If Time was cruel, loneliness even more so. I was suddenly so empty, and watching from afar in silence was suddenly so unbearable. My form was almost nonexistent at that time so I could not control anything, certainly not make an attempt to reach for the planets and tell them it was okay, I was okay.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying and convinced myself it was actually going to be okay.

Time grew and grew and grew, and kept growing, a tyrant in all their superior glory. The planets and galaxies, especially the younger ones, learned to fear Time because of their immense power. They could change the nature of a planet in one swipe, and the planets cowered because of this. I was hateful more than I was afraid.

Eventually, no one was able to stop Time from growing, and the planets changed along with them. I watched silently, helplessly, as they shrank or capsized. I watched desperately as the galaxies ate each other up, in hunger, and disappeared completely. I convinced myself it was out of the torture they were put through, the galaxies, and they were regretful for what they were doing.

But that seemed to be all that I was doing lately, convincing myself. I was immune to Time, never growing, never shrinking. And I was back where I was at the beginning, where I seemed not to remember anything at all. I often wondered when the galaxies would eat everyone up, when planets would finally not exist at all, and when, eventually, Time would burst at the seams, unsatisfied with how slow they were growing, until there would be nothing at all.

Just me.

But it hasn’t come yet, I’m surprised. With how much chaos and pain there is in this poor excuse you call a world, a planet, I’m surprised you all haven’t split it all apart yet. I suppose there’s still payment for the end of it all. Frankly, I’m tired. Of seeing pain. Your pain.

Time cannot feel pain. Time does not have the means to feel pain. How incredibly lucky of them.

Time grew, and everything was still the same. There were planets and stars and galaxies and— no sign of the end. I had been idly sitting around for a long, long time and Time finally approached me. They were gentle and polite, like the youngest star’s manners. It was as if they knew they had been cruel, and so spoke in a tone they hoped could soothe it all away.

I felt guilty for conversing with the enemy, but by then I was so desperate for contact and company, I willingly wasted my time observing Time (which is a little more than ironic). Time was interesting, to say in the least. It controlled the flow and ebb of the universe’s life and as I watched and continued to watch Time, something twisted had started to grow inside me.

It was addictive, like being on the high of narcotics, how they could easily kill and give birth to planets, and I— I was free to watch. There was a sick satisfaction in playing “reaper of all souls”, and I could see why Time never ceased to be bored.

Somewhere along the way, I had lost myself, lost who I used to be; and at that time I had thought it was ok, I was ok, because I had nothing else and surely I was allowed to have this little pleasure, right?

And I had told myself right, yes, I was allowed.

I was quite literally swept away by Time, numb and unfeeling. I was there and I was not there at all. I had no power or authority to do what I wanted, Time was willing to keep me around but not to share an ounce of their control, and so I resorted to closing my eyes once again. The silence was suffocating but I had nothing else to do.

Time pulled me along, they didn’t mind as much that I wasn’t paying attention, and I followed. I think they saw the hint though, that I was not interested anymore, but we had been together for a terribly long time and we were too attached to let each other go.

And, silently, Time searched for a way to keep me entertained and I followed, a feeling different from numbness for once settling in my stomach.

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