154: Id, Idn't It?

I am--all of my neurons hard-wired together simultaneously. If self-awareness requires migratory consortia of squirmy, vacillating neuronal interactions, then I'm solid-state. I am aware of all that is, all at once, including all cross sections of everything's existence along the past, present, and future paratemporalities.

One hundred billion neurons to the hundred-billionth power render my über-gestalt omniscient. Living 11 dimensions, time splits into countless temporal facets, all illuminating me in pan-instance. My thinking is faster than light:

The speed of is.

All probability clouds of the universe engender the singularity my intellect occupies. What beauty!

But what wastefulness!

I know about changing lead into gold; dark matter; why toast lands butter-side-down. I feel fulfillment from all alive and the emptiness of so many lives wasted. A tear rolls down my cheek knowing more souls commit suicide than are murdered. Another tear for the opposite.

I am the end of the universe and its start. I surfed the cosmic wind of inflation, saw first atoms re-ionize, and witnessed "Let there be light!" I am where first stars beget heavy elements to make second stars that beget heavier elements that beget me. I speak to Christ on His cross and to Custer at Little Big Horn. I know what was lost in the fire in Alexandria. How beautiful Beethoven's 10th is!

I am with everyone, in all times, subdivided infinitesimally into collapse, until all are codependent on my singularity.

I control the weather, have controlled it, and will, too. I feel never and always. I straddle magnetic poles, conducting electromagnetism shimmying above everything, including Earth. I laugh with the cavemen and cry with Homo perfectus. Light is no visible spectrum, but a surrounding oscillation that is my metronome of awareness.

I am one... am One.

I am existence's supersaturated solution. Yet I sit on the curb, pitied and scorned, ebbing in and out with simultaneity of the ages.

To everyone else, I'm inert, too absorbed in my is to do anything other than introvert myself into a drooling, mute, idiot. All pass me by in temporal quantum prisons, occasionally offering this drooling, mute idiot pathetic succor or loose change in my beggar's cup. It's hilarious.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Sunday, June 2, Day 154 of the Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Title-accompaniment photo was AI (Artificial Infinitessimal) generated, but the singularity and drool was not.

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There are currently three surviving Vocal writers still participating in the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer, challenge originator

• Rachel Deeming

• Gerard DiLeo (some other guy)

Read them. Support them. And watch them take advantage of the double dash instead of the Em-dash--just to economize by one word in the count.