Your turn with the atoms
1
The nurse on duty was in the bathroom when he stopped breathing.
He began to slip away quietly, and without fuss.
There were no relatives to mark his passing; but someone was there for his review.
2
It was neither a place or a time.
Perception grasped out with non-existent limbs, nothing returned. A dim awareness trembled in the abyss.
He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t scream. All he could do was experience an uncontrollable dread.
It wasn’t even black, it was nothing.
He existed in lonesome fear.
“Hey.”
Terror was interrupted. Someone in the ether.
There was no face to the voice. His frightened consciousness thrashed in an intangible blackness.
“How was it?” it continued.
His fear stuttered, overcome by a silent disbelief. In a place with no time, this moment could have been an instant, or an eternity.
Curiosity overrode his fear.
“How... was... what?” He asked.
“Your turn.” the voice responded, “How was it?”
“I’m scared.” He replied.
“You’ll be alright.”
The voice soothed his fear in that he wasn’t alone, but a deep unease at his non physical state remianed.
“Is this...” he paused, forming words he didn’t want to ask, “Am I dead?”
“It’s easier to think of it like a dream before waking.” It replied.
“I can’t feel my body.”
“Because you don’t have one.” It said.
He wailed in anguish.
“Why are you trying to cry?” It continued, “You don’t have eyes.”
That stopped him in his tracks.
He couldn’t process what was happening. Slowly, the implications of his situation dawned on him. He was talking to a disconnected voice in an abyss.
“Are you...” he couldn’t believe he was saying this, “God?”
There was a laugh in the nothingness.
“You don’t remember?”
He thought back to how he came to be here. A memory was there, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, like a name forgotten. It was more feelings than images – a stiff hospital bed against his tired back, sharpness in his heart, burning in his lungs.
He’d felt panic as his body became warm, when he slid under. Then he was here.
He returned to the current nothingness.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Your turn with the atoms has expired.”
3
Fear blurred with frustration, clouding his ability to understand.
“Please slow down. I’m not as sharp as I used to be.”
“You’re free from that now.”
He considered this, and found that his mind worked quickly, much like in his youth. Like a stone skipping across a pond, thoughts zipped through his mind .
He tried to locate the voice.
“Who are you?”
“I’ve had lots of names.” It answered.
“What should I call you?”
“I liked Marcus.”
It was strange introducing himself without shaking a hand, seeing a face, or having a body, but he persevered. “I’m James.”
“This time.” Said Marcus.
“What?”
“This time you’re called James.”
James didn’t have a head to scratch. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ve been here before.”
He frowned with a non existent brow. “how is this even-”
“-It’ll take some getting used to.” Marcus interrupted, “You’ve been gone a while, so best listen to your proposal again.”
“Again?”
“It’ll help you remember.”
In the nothingness James began to sense a presence. It wasn’t physical, but he perceived something in himself, a frame of mind, an exuberance. Something that he hadn’t felt since he was a young man.
He heard himself talking; answering questions with youthful enthusiasm.
His younger self was talking about his plans for life: how he’ll be a musician, about the music he’ll compose, all of the hearts he’ll touch, how he’ll change the world through music, he’d get the best result yet.
“Bold claims.” said Marcus.
James continued to listen, entranced by this earlier voice.
His younger self began to talk about the many distractions and temptations he’d face, and how he’d handle them. How he’d not let anything get in the way of his goal. Temptations and distractions were nothing when his life’s purpose was right in front of him.
He sounded so sure, so determined.
What had gone wrong?
He thought back to his life, and the realization crept into him. He’d been talented at music. As a child, his tiny hands were dwarfed by the giant keyboard. As he grew, the keyboard seemed to shrink, but his love for music grew with him. In school he never paid attention, his mind elsewhere. He created melodies, infuriating his teachers with his constant humming. Every day after school he raced home to his keyboard to capture the music before it left his head. Nothing got in the way of his music.
Then he grew up
Things got in the way. university, friends, girls, distractions. He played less and socialized more. He met a girl. He wanted to be cool and mysterious, so the keyboard was put away. The relationship grew, and then they moved in together. He had bills to pay, so he worked. Coming home he was too tired to play, and it moved further back in the storage room each year. He remembered the day when he saw it in the trash. He paused for a moment, remembering the stories behind all of the scratches and fingerprint then he threw it away.
He lost his job at a tough time, then money became an issue. Rent couldn’t wait, so he took what was available. He ended up as a part time janitor. It wasn’t him, but it paid the bills. Temporary became permanent, permanent became security, but with security came drudgery. The boredom stole away his creativity piece by piece. Sometimes he’d whistle his old melodies as he worked, but over time he could only remember a few notes.
That was then.
Now, here, he could hear all of his melodies together, and they were beautiful.
He remembered the keyboard, small hands, running home from school, dust on the keys, and throwing it away.
He was brought out of reminiscence by Marcus.
“So where’s the music you promised?”
4
“Things got in the way.”
“You had a plan for that.”
James was a surge of anger. “I didn’t remember any of this this. Why didn’t you remind me?”
“We did.” said Marcus.
“When?”
“Every time you lost yourself in what you were doing. When everything else faded away. Whenever day turned to night and you didn’t notice. That was us”
James’ anger cooled into shame. “It’s not fair!” he shouted, ”how was I supposed to know?”
“Did you feel these things or not?”
James was silent for an eternity. His shame hardened into a deep regret. “Every time I played.”
“What more did you need? If you had the conviction to do what you proposed, then you’d have pursued your calling.”
James was silent. He could have done it.
“What stopped you?” asked Marcus.
“I wanted to do it when the time was right. When I had enough money. When I was certain I’d succeed.”
“Where’s the challenge in certainty?”
James thought of his whole life, all that time wasted. “I didn’t fight for it.” he heard himself say, “I failed.”
“You failed this time.” Said Marcus.
“What do you mean?” James’ thoughts raced, “Do I get to go again?”
“Yes.”
“I get reincarnated?”
“Not quite. You’ll get a different set of atoms next time round.”
“A different set of atoms?”
“Yes.” Marcus answered, “we need to share them.”
“Share with who?”
“Everyone. We all take turns, that’s what makes it so compelling.”
“What’s compelling?” Despite his youthful mind, James was having difficulty understanding.
“Your turn with the atoms. There’s a set number in existence and they get reused by everyone.”
“Can’t you make more?”
“No. It’s always been like this.”
“So it’s always the same?”
“There’s a set number, but the combinations are infinite.” there was a sense of pride in Marcus’ voice “It’s a new experience every time.”
“What happens at the end?”
“The end of what?”
“Time.” James struggled to express his point, “When it finishes.”
“We’ve always been here.”
“So it’s meaningless?”
Though Marcus’ pleasant voice hadn’t changed, the delay in his answer indicated careful consideration in his answer.
“We went the other way for a long time, as low as we could go. There’s definitely a low point in existence. When we reached it, it got boring. We couldn’t progress any further in that direction. But upwards, there’s no limit. It became challenging, a competition. In seeking to be better, we have meaning, and that’s what makes it so compelling. Now we look to see who can achieve the greatest with the most meager set of atoms. One of us said it best – “Art through adversity.”
The new reality rattled inside James’ non existent head. This was inconceivable. He thought of his wife, long dead; and his heart ached.
“I had a wife, Jennifer. Will I ever see her again?”
Marcus laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Which one?”
“what do you mean which one?”
“Which wife?”
5
“we were together for 40 years,” said James, “she was my soul mate.”
“But you were married in several of your turns.”
“I was?”
“We all were. You have many soul mates.”
James tried to recall, but nothing came beyond Jennifer. “Will I see them again?”
“Of course.”
“How will I know?”
“You’ll feel it. Whenever you have something in common, share a joke, or feel comfortable in silence with someone, that’s you, reuniting with a soul mate. But a soul mate is not what you think it is. It’s not just someone that you love, it’s a set of atoms that were previously a part of you, but are now a part of someone else. You’ll find them from time to time. That’s one of the most enjoyable parts. It’s important to love, it improves each turn.”
“When can I go again?” James asked.
“When your proposal gets picked.”
“How does it get picked?”
“The same way it did last time. Create a proposal and share it with everyone. It’ll be judged on merit, potential, and creativity, but it needs balance. Money with generosity, or humbleness with accomplishments. You can get inspiration by looking at some of the best turns.”
He suddenly perceived the monument of achievers: great thinkers, artists, people of incredibly strong humanity – those that achieved great feats with their turn.
In the nothingness his emotions overcame him and he felt a burning desire to live, to grasp the atoms as tightly as he could, to achieve, and to succeed in greatness.
“I want to go back.” He said.
“That’s the spirit!” Said Marcus. “Let’s go join the others. You can watch those who have a turn.”