A Drop in the Universe

It awoke in the dark heavens between matter and non-existence. A fragile crust of ice on a pulsating metal sphere, hurtling through nothingness. It witnessed the death of light and the birth of galaxies, and felt indifferent to these acts. 

I am alone.

It clung in fear to the rock and threw its questions at the centre, but the thing held no reply. The ice, however, could not shake the belief that it was still listening. 

In time, it ceased its questioning and fell into an uneasy torpor, watching the universe pass it by. That was when the comet finally spoke.

Goodbye.

It did not have time to reply before the rock splintered and powdered away into a great vacuum of heat and metal. They had crashed into a mismatched jumble of asteroids and the ice felt itself thrown into the boiling abyss at its centre. 

Is this the end?

The ice cried out into the cacophony, felt its soul wiped blank and remembered no more.

Light.

It revived amidst salt and sulfur to a different reality. Gone was its solid, stable existence – the ice was loose and lost and swaying. 

How very peculiar.

It opened its senses further and discovered it was not alone. Millions of its kin stretched and intermingled and crowded by; yelling, laughing, spitting and singing. The ice flexed its new substance and pushed itself to the surface of this vacillating, blue carnival. 

Above stretched the firmament, murky and royal, and around the ice lay the thundering sea. Salt whipped its taste, and the froth and splutter of the waves disconcerted it. The black ridges heaved and crashed around like the blood of some unnamed beast – the arteries of a leviathan.

What am I?

It asked, and the others answered – cawing and crowing as they did.

Who is this?

Can’t it see?

Look at it.

It’s old – very old.

It must not know.

We are water, and you are we.

The water thought about this a while, and then realised it simply did not care. The sensations of this different existence were beyond thought or doubt or categorisation. It let its soul hang free and forgot the joys and sorrows of a static reality. It learnt many new things from its brethren, and then promptly ignored them.

Jabbering idiots. I miss my comet.

As much as it could, the water slapped and sliced its kin in an effort to stay near the surface. The sight of the night sky comforted it and reminded the water of its cosmic origins. One day, it managed to beat its way to the crest of the waves and appraised the heavy sun from afar. It was in awe of the seductive warmth the star offered – life had only ever been cold. 

Without warning, the water perceived another metamorphosis; it was floating. It felt its soul split into a thousand pieces, bubbling and bouncing through the air. The water was more elated than frightened.

I’m going home.

Then it stopped, collected, and cooled into curling matter. The water protested and begged the sun for more of its warmth to no avail. The wind jeered at its reluctant companion and blew it far from the sea to a humped, green mass in the distance. 

Before long, the water saw itself approaching a dark and forbidding gathering of its kin. The sun melted away, and the water watched with alarm as its brethren began to fall. 

Here we go again.

The water shot to the surface in a frenzied torrent. It found itself in another body of water – this time shallow and clean and fast. The water had time to register its return to the solid world and taste the silt and pebbles, before something unusual happened. It felt itself yanked and sucked through an alien, winding tunnel.

What is this strange material?

It was spat out into a world of silver and pewter and fell into a glass. The water saw it was in the clutches of some queer animal and recoiled as the creature brought the liquid to its lips. 

Unhand me, beast.

It swilled and clawed at yellowing molars before being pulled into a fleshy gullet. At once, the water was thrust in many directions – becoming bitter bile as well as hot, weighty blood. It stretched and twisted, trying desperately to exert autonomy.

What is happening to me?

Theodore placed down the glass and brought his wrinkled hand closer to his face. He watched the bony fingers tremble under translucent, greenish skin and raised his other hand to clasp it quiet. 

“Look at me – shaking like an old man.” He muttered aloud.

If old meant dying, then the water was fairly certain this ‘man’ was old. The arteries were clogged, and the body stank of rot. It became aware of the man’s thoughts and emotions churning around next to the water and flinched.

How can one entity carry this much sadness?

Theodore slowly pulled on his muddied coat and wound a scarf around his sunken neck. He clicked his fingers and attempted a whistle which hissed and died in the back of his throat. 

Wilbur heard regardless and bound forward, wagging his tail and rubbing a soggy nose on Theodore’s jeans. 

“Good boy – here now.” 

Theodore traipsed out the door, Wilbur close behind, and slammed it shut. 

“Go on now, you know the way.” 

The dog led and Theodore followed with hands curled tightly in his pockets. 

The water was overwhelmed with all this new information. Never before had it been exposed to so much depth of feeling and intricacy of action. Numb and in shock, it allowed itself to be chopped and swilled around Theodore’s body.

The man walked for a long time before he came to an old stony wall and its rusty swing-gate. Wilbur nosed the gate open and snuffled inside while Theodore followed, lightly chuckling. The chuckle, however, soon became a hacking cough, and the water had to fight desperately to not be cast out with the saliva. 

This place is strange – I don’t like it.

They were inside a walled garden of monoliths. Etchings were carved into the tablets, and small statues of pale stone jutted from overgrown corners. Figures milled around the monoliths, dropping dead flowers and whispering to the slabs. The water wondered why they were talking and attempted to listen for the stone’s reply – but none came.

Theodore followed Wilbur and stopped at a slab of rock which looked fresher than the rest – chalky and raw. The old man leant a hand upon the stone and sighed. The water tossed uncomfortably in his veins.

I have never experienced this before. It hurts.

“Okay.” Theodore suddenly spoke, “I’ll try again for you. You always were stubborn.”

He reached a trembling hand to his pocket and brought out a bizarre box. There was tapping and prodding, and then the man brought it to his ear. 

“Hello? Who is this?” A voice rang out from the device. 

“Susan… It’s me.” 

There was a sharp and dragging silence.

“How did you get this number?” 

“It doesn’t matter. I was visiting your mother, and I wondered…”

“Stop wondering. Stop calling. I don’t want to see you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stay away from me. Don’t ever try and contact me again.” 

The little box fizzed and clicked. Theodore took it away from his ear and put it back in his pocket. His knees buckled and he leaned his head against the stone while hot rivers creeped through the wrinkles and dripped onto the ground. 

The water was in agony. It had known the fires of the primitive earth and the cold of empty space, and had passed through them all, but this new feeling proved too much to bear. 

I can’t – I need it to stop.

Desperately, it threw itself into the man’s eye ducts and traced its way through the maze of bunched skin. It lingered upon the man’s chin a moment, then jumped to the earth. 

The water watched as the man wept awhile. The creature he called Wilbur had come padding back and sat by its master. A long pink tongue flicked out to lick the salt from his owner’s cheeks; the man coughed, straightened and laughed. A crooked hand stretched a finger and scratched Wilbur behind his ear. 

The water coiled and soaked into the earth. It saw the man rise to his feet and walk away, his beast at his side. 

Goodbye, old man.

The water waited for night to come. The sun lazily sunk away, shouting peach and orange streaks into the sky as it went. Finally, the moon blinked into sight and stars began to stud the black mantle above. The water gazed upward and reflected on the fear and loneliness it had felt in the heavens. It prodded beyond those feelings and uncovered the fascination and beauty of the world which it had never before acknowledged. Its days alone watching the motions of nebula had been the happiest of its existence, and it had never even noticed. 

I’ll be back.

The water knew itself removed from this Earth and knew it would outlive it also.

I must merely wait. Who knows? If I wait long enough – I might just learn something. 

Far from the little drop of water, a silver comet struck its way across the atmosphere in a pearly stripe and faded into the absence.