Volare
by Steven Fritz

I was born with the universe. I was freed when it decoupled.

I travel at the speed of time, departure and arrival in the same moment, but in a universe aged by entropy and gravity. I chose this stellar system, a population 2 G0 star in the throes of formation, for its possibilities. I have not been disappointed.

When aggregates formed in the outer reaches of the cloud as it spiraled into its future, I became one with them. Traveling inside them, gravity, entropy, and time coincided. I remained conscious of the passage of time as well as entropy. Over the passage of time, the aggregates found consciousness, and I was contained within their minds, helping to form them. 

In the Cloud, motion was a given. The aggregates flew between encounters, learning to think, to communicate. To dream. Nestled in their dreams, I saw them sing their theorems of causality and entanglement to the distant stars. I dreamed of them being heard, understood, and even loved. I was content.

But in a universe of time, nothing is eternal. I found myself flung inward toward the now glowing star by an errant thought given to the structures that had formed near the star, circling it. I awoke on a seething cauldron of heat and gravity. Nothing thought. Nothing dreamed. But I remained, engulfed by masses of molten rock that descended into the hell of the core.

Trapped inside, I was conscious the entire time, dreaming the dreams of a planet in its gravidity. Limited dreams. Confined dreams. Or so it seemed. I had little choice but to remain.

In the fullness of time, the magma returned to the surface. Riding the glow of hot lava, I warmed the tiny brain of a creature with pretensions. Its ancestors had given it the ability to glide from tree to tree, sometimes from ground to tree. Its consciousness was primitive but I discovered joy. Even though its flight ended in disaster, I learned.

I was not alone in inhabiting the dreams of the creatures here. Others like me dwelt on this planet, now far advanced in its development. But chance and causality sent many of them up from the planet to escape its gravity and ride the winds of eternity. As chance would have it, I remained, bound to the ground. Others like me came from the universe and ultimately returned. In the end, I found myself alone.

The bright spark of consciousness burst into flame as many creatures on this planet became aware of themselves and their surroundings. Intelligence grew, and with it the ability to be mesmerized by possibility, dreams of flight, of contesting the iron law of gravity. Its pinnacle was reached in a species that came to dominate the planet, for good and ill. 

The first of these intelligent ground-bound creatures to attempt flight named itself Daedelus. From its dreams, where I lived then, it fashioned wings as best it understood how and used them for itself and its progeny to escape captivity. This impulse I understood perfectly.

As entropy would have it, Daedelus’ progeny boldly flew beyond the ability of his crude wings and plummeted to Earth. In his grief, Daedelus never flew again, but his dream inspired songs others sang to themselves in their dreams.

I remained relentlessly trapped on this planet, hopping from animate to inanimate dreams, always longing for the future. As little as I experienced time when traveling, the cumulative weight of coming and going in time anchored me to a reality I was unable to escape. My only consolation was to participate in continued dreams. 

Once I almost escaped confinement, only to be reflected back to Earth by an overlying rain cloud. As frustrating as that was, it landed me in the dreams of a man who was to make history. He flew beyond the sound of his own passing, even though injured and barely capable of manning his vehicle.

His dream inspired tales that inspired imitators. Held to Earth, unable to break the iron fist of gravity, I was reflected from dream to dream, always illuminating the desire to escape. Once I passed through the outer reaches of the atmosphere of the planet, only to be reflected back into the sea. But I had tasted space for the first time in eons.

With experience, I learned how to direct my fate, but now I chose to remain with these contradictory creatures, both isolated and communal. They flew far beyond their planet, beyond other planets, halfway to the Cloud where, I assumed, the aggregates still held sway. Always they returned, and I with them.
In a blink of astronomical time, they traveled far beyond my Cloud, encountered the aggregates but left them behind, and ventured toward other stars. If I chose to be emitted, I could arrive ahead of them or in a distant galaxy, alone, with no sense of time passing, but into an aged universe. I chose to stay.

As I flitted from encounter to encounter, always choosing to remain in close proximity, these creatures changed as they traveled the galaxy of their birth. They understood, as I learned from them, that they had peopled a large swath of this galaxy. Many of them were satisfied with their vast domain. Others dreamed of escape.

Now they are poised to leap the void, travel to another galaxy. I could choose to be emitted toward their goal, arrive long before them, be conscious only of the results of entropy, not of the passage of time. I choose to stay.

Why? Because, as much as I might learn from leaping ahead of them, they are one with me. They dream of the ultimate flight. When might I encounter their like again?