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Beyond Reason

By MPHarris All Rights Reserved ©

Romance / Scifi


Jai Spyre has always been disinterested with life. Finally he decided to do something about it, it was that decision which would turn his life upside down and rest the fate of the world in his hands.

Childhood Nihilist

Lives are a lot like stories, especially in the sense that every one of them has a beginning, and I suppose mine was no different. The story that was my life began just about the same way any boring old Human’s life begins, messy and loud. I popped out of my mum slap bang in the middle of the ninety’s, which was a pretty boring decade to begin with. It didn’t quite have the amazing technology of the noughties and it was just after the mystique of the drug filled raves from the eighties, it seemed as if I were destined to follow the path of mundanity from the very beginning. Like most nineties kids my parents split, my dad left the scene and I was left an only child with my mum and her boyfriend. I really don’t remember much from way back then in the murky depths of time. I was young, naive and probably quite content with it all. It wasn’t until my teenage years that the boredom really started to settle in.

I was thirteen years old, sat up in my room with a single shaft of early morning light filtering through the crack between my curtains and illuminating just the right spot on my book. If memory serves it was something to do with space and science, that was probably what started off my train of thought in the first place, the book made the universe seem like such a wide, desolate place. An infinity of void, and there we were, a shining ball of light and hope spinning around it all. Passing through all the filters of the universe barely unscathed, our little globe of life, a beacon in the dark. It was the first moment that the boredom settled in, the true boredom.

The true bordeom was more than that childish boredom that a kid experienced when they didn’t ahve a toy to play with or they weren’t getting the attention they desired from their peers or parents. No, the true boredom was a deeper and more malignant affliction. The true boredom was the moment in a child’s life, a moment that all children would inevitably face, when they realise just how rediculously uninmportant they and the things they do actually are. Naturally most children pass it to the back of their mind. It was likely the healthier thing to do, even if it would only serve to become a little niggle of doubt festering and growing over time until it eventually stopped being a niggle and evolved into a cacophony of unignorable sadness at middle age. Adults brush it off as a midlife crisis with a chuckle, bt in actuality it is in fact the sudden and abrupt acknowledgement of the hidden existential truth. Truly, in the grand scheme of it all, they really didn’t matter all that much. Eventually after all the labours of men will fall to dust, and then that dust will be engulfed by the star of which we orbit in its dying breaths before the universe itself collapses.

As you can tell, thirteen year old me didn’t exactly pass it away or brush it off. That little thirteen year old boy, sitting there in his bedroom and eyeing the little motes of dust that danced in the ray of sunlight just above the page of the book felt something stir deep within him. It was a reluctant realisation of that aforementioned inevitable truth. My thirteen years of life had lead up to approximately no where, and loafing around in my room reading stories about stardust and the end of it all wouldn’t do much to change that. Part of me felt like it needed to be out there in the big wide tiny world, doing things and meeting people and maybe, just maybe, that innevitable truth... that immovable and unchangeable conclusion that dust and stars had brought me to... perhaps for me it wouldn’t be such a predestined cycle.

Lets fast forward five years to modern day Jai. Five years on from that epiphany and subsequent promise would surely have yielded some results, perhaps broken the chain so to speak. Maybe I would have started to do something worthwhile and it all would have been changed for the better? The answer to that simple line of questioning would be an even more simple and rather resounding no. I was still bored, still discontent and still very unenthused with the things and people that surrounded me. I was a smart guy, I’d graduated from high school and sixth form at the top of my class and now I was even studying English in university, in a sense these were all very worthy achievements. But it was still there, not an inconsequential niggling either, but a load and deafening roar. The roar of the true boredom. It sang in every fiber of my being, coursed through every vessel of blood as it ran through my veins and vibrated in the small infinities between the gaps in my atoms.

“God, I’m so damn bored,” I gasped out loud, perhaps just a little too loud. At the time I was in a coffee shop and it just so happened that I had chosen a moment of perfect deadly quiet to let out my cry of loathing. Eyes were trained on my from all angles, some boring into my own cold grey globes whilst others trained like snipers on the back of my shaggy brown hair. I swallowed hard and cast a glance at my best friend, Sian, who had in turn glanced up from whatever she was reading off of the tablet in her hand to give me an amused smirk. I felt the heat of an embarrassed blush rush up my neck and claim my cheeks before muttering a small, meek apology.

The coffee shop was still quiet so I could only surmise they were waiting for me to come up with some form of follow up statement. The apology hadn’t done the trick and those who had previously been focused on their own mundanity were now focused on me, an abnormality in their quiet little lives. I was lucky, then, that human nature had gifted our species with a particularly short attention span as even though my apology had been lame it only took around ten seconds for them to get bored of staring. I suppose not even my slight forays into absurdity could hope to derail the dull normality of every day existence. In fact, I was sure that in a few minutes the event would have been forgotten entirely. Forgotten by everyone except from her.

“So, bored again are we?” Sian mused out loud as my blush began to subside, almost as if to prove the point of my mental monologue.

“Is there ever a time that I’m not?” I huffed in response, wrapping my hands around my warm mug of mocha and bringing it up to my lips for a long sip. “I still dont understand how you don’t feel it.”

She rolled her eyes at that, it was a conversation that we’d run through more than once. “Don’t feel what?”
“That screaming boredom that wracks every painful moment of the day from dusk till dawn,” I grouched as if it were obvious.

“Yeah,” she mused out loud, clasping her hands together and bringing both her index fingers up to rest on her chin in an exaggerated thinking pose. “No, I can’t really say that I’ve ever encountered a sensation like that, honest.”

I let out a small groan of frustration, though I toned down the volume enough so I wouldn’t startle the other patrons of the shop, and allowed myself to sink slightly into the fancy leather chair on which I was seated. “Come on, it’s probably just this little niggling sensation right in the back of your skull. Letting you know that something tiny is probably definitely wrong but you can never put your finger on what.”

She laughed out loud over that one, a dainty chuckle that never ceased to make a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “No, really never. Not even once,” she said it as though she were apologising.

“Just me then,” I shrugged in a way that could only be described as defeatist, shaking my head slightly so that my long fringe fell slightly over my glasses and obscured my already terrible vision.

Surely not, though. Surely I could not be the only one that had admitted to the obvious truth of the universe, that life was largely a waiting game until you died. Only select individuals were remembered and it was barely ever for anything good. Considering I didn’t plan to go down in the history books for genocide or some other atrocity, breaking my way into the hearts and minds of men and women was a difficult task, as of course my younger self had quickly figured out.

Sian’s phone rang, a simple and precise beeping, that dragged me unwillingly out of my thoughts. This was an event that would happen often, at least three or four times throughout the week. The phone would ring, she would answer, her chocolate brown eyes would shut slightly and she would gaze sternly off into the distance whilst her lips set themselves into a steely cold grimace. Often her reply would be a simple okay before she would get up and leave. It was times like that when I knew she was lying, she wasn’t the never ceasing ray of sunshine that she made herself out to be. I wasn’t the only one that had given into the nihilism of the universe if the lack of light in those eyes were anything to go by, and perhaps asking Sian why she didn’t feel it was the wrong angle entirely.

It often seemed, to me at least, that Sian was somehow absent from the people that went ticking about their average and every day lives, separated even from me and my supposed outlook on the world. With a glint in those dark eyes of her and a knowing smirk on her lips she always seemed to tackle life head on with a reckless abandon that would make the most daring of dare devils cower in fear. There was something different about her, the something that had drawn me to her in the first place.

“I have to go, Jai. You know how it is,” She said with an apologetic smile on her lips as she excused herself from our meeting.

She was wrong, I didn’t know how it was. I didn’t know how it was at all and because of that I made a decision. It wasn’t the most ethical of decisions and it was most certainly not something that a friend should ever do to another friend, but my curiosity had been peaked and my curiosity just so happened to be an insatiable beast. Sian had something I didn’t, that much I was sure of. Perhaps it was love that blinded her to the cruelty of the world or perhaps she was naive to it all. Maybe it was the opposite and that was why she became so stern and distant when she answered the mystery calls. But maybe, just possible, she could be the most impossible and important person I had ever encountered. I’d follow her and work it out if it were the last thing I ever did.

Write a Review Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, MPHarris
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