Destinations 7.

Stepping across the boundless prairies inside pulsar PSR J1903+0327, Enoch and Elijah near the Tree of Nok.

“Are these the other humans here?” Asks Doris with a sideways glimpse to her huge sister Day.

“Red blooded small sized humans, like you two, yes. But I am human too. You were human when living in your blue blooded giant body, together with our family around the Tree of Don, remember? We’re all humans, no matter the size or color.” In the voice of Day, there is a note of hesitation that Don catches swiftly.

“Day dear, if you allow me.”

“Go ahead, little Don.”

“Doris didn’t want to minimize you, or your body, the color of your blood, the dimensions of the avatar that you’re inhabiting. I can tell you that she’s still a bit scared of you. Well, more than a bit, or two. Plus, we’re both admirative of you, of what we ourselves used to be prior to our current little lives. By any means, we’re not mocking you in any way. This is why I don’t understand your defensive answer.”

“Master Don, I am terribly scared, I feel like dying. I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“About the pyramid that was given you to drive. About our destinations. About losing my comfort.”

“Were you happy here?”

“I was.”

“Even after I died?”

“I coped with that.”

“Were you happy?”

“After losing you, happiness was gone. Even after losing Dor, a true pain in my elbow, I felt sad. Nothing was the same. Dag helped me cope with life on this other side of the sky. We pursued happiness together. But nothing was the same. With you gone.”

“Still you managed to survive...”

“Around the Tree of Nok.”

“Did Nok tell you what happened to us?”

“No. He wished to provide comfort and help us finding happiness. But Eli, when visiting, had a rant or two. Even if no one asked.”

“What said Eli?”

“That you were gone, down within the thunder. Drowning out of this life you were. Like fools following their stupid curiosity before bothering to ask the obvious question.”

“Which is?”

“Which is what?”

“The obvious question. What is the obvious question?”

“May I?”

“Sure.”

“Sure what?”

“Sure, you may!”

“No stupid. The obvious question is: ‘may I?’” Whistles Day while stopping to make a reverence with her right hand, opening the palm to allow Doris and Don to step over the red roots under the Tree of Nok.

Enoch, sitting on an exposed root, seems to play a harp, which he doesn’t because, instead of strings, one can observe geometric volumes coming out of his fingers. Cubes and spheres mainly.

Elijah shouts at our characters, in a steady and measured voice.

“Welcome back, you idiots.”

Remembering the stern Eli from their last visit, the one that taught them about the pyramid, Doris and Don try their best to be less idiots. “Thank you for having us,” speaks Doris ahead of her man.

“But of course, you haven’t changed a bit, eon after eon, death after death. The lady speaks first, the lady leads and her man follows, like a calf would go after the cow.”

“Elijah, Elijah,” enters Enoch standing up, “let us cut them some slack. Shall we?”

“They’re already here, for a second time. Talking to us, face to face. What do you think this is? Some slack? This, Enoch, is more than just cutting them some slack.”

“Forgive us, we ask for--”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been forgiven already. Stop running this routine over and over. It only ads to your foolishness and serves no purpose. Other than petting your proverbial narcissism.”

“We wish to know, if we may?” Chimes Don in.

“You may,” responds Elijah, “what do you wish to know?”

“I remember drowning next to a huge block of granite. The waters were boiling, black. I died then. Doris, her name was Dor through that age, died along. Those dormant memories have been stirred by our recent encounter with Dag. What happened after we died?”

“Kronos, an artist and a dupe, claimed access to your women. You were stupid enough to grant that. Knowing that his blood was red and yours blue. The construct of reality inside these golden spheres cannot sustain this type of confusion. The system broke, taking down everything on it and below.”

“It was my fault,” interrupts Doris. “I wished to give Day to Kronos. Out of jealousy. My man--”

“Your stupid man listened to you. He always does. Never mind. The Prior Earth broke to smithereens. Its golden canopy melting to rain down on your trees. The ground rupturing to allow the fury of the boiling oceans rise above. The core engine stayed intact.”

“Why?”

“Because this is how a pulsar spits stuff away.”

“Away, where?”

“On a string with Saturn.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Like any process, a person is linked to a location, to a point of presence. Kronos made no exception. His spot being planet Saturn. You have granted him access to your tree. A voltage occurred to balance the potentials between his place and yours. Down this cosmic lightning bolt went the Prior Earth. Out of its place.”

“An entire planet?”

“The entire planet. Broken to pieces.”

“All it took for this calamity was a simple ‘yes’ - a word?”

“Words are powerful.”

“May I?”

“You may, Don.”

“Systems have failsafe mechanisms.”

“Correct. Above ten percent of imbalanced trees, all around the surface, and the core engine of a planet spits away.”

“So my Don wasn’t the only one?”

“Not the only one. Your emancipation travels did wonders. Revolution was already in the air when Kronos arrived to make his claims.”