Stop.
Settle yourself.
Let your bare feet rest against the small pebble-like flecks of metal.
Feel that strange,
Almost round shape they take on,
And how many different varieties there are,
So similar,
Yet so oddly distinct.
And for a moment,
Just breathe.
Let your weight settle amongst the little,
Shiny stones.
There is a history here,
Still young,
But aging,
Though with an ancient pedigree,
But that lineage holds little sway with you.
Take a step forward,
Down that slight hill,
And feel the artificial pebbles slide around your feet,
Some well over a centimeter long,
Others barely a few mils.
They have that solid,
Flat edge,
Then either round off or taper to a point.
Similar,
Yet in such variety,
And countless,
At least in the poetic sense,
If not the literal.
As you take another step,
Smooth gravel sliding beneath you.
Take in just how far this expanse stretches.
A huge bowl,
A crater,
All glittering in the haze.
So many little pieces of metal reflecting back that sourceless light.
And on a slight path,
Circling this deserted depression,
Take note of the five great pillars.
Striding towards the nearest one,
Reflect on its deep carvings,
Its powerful form.
Heavy cylindrical shapes carrying ancient strength and power.
Poise.
As you approach the nearest,
Gently,
Confidently,
Reach out and press your hand against the cool iron.
Imagine the meaning of the change this wrought,
The weight it held.
As you leave the calm behind,
Look to your next landmark,
Further down the mass of depression.
Kilometers across,
It will take you some time to reach the bottom.
There,
Just visible.
Take a slow breath and see the flat space.
All in this emptiness should still be wide enough for you to stand on.
Slowly,
Calmly,
Let your feet carry you down to that next space,
Feeling each little shift and sway in the grains of lead beneath you.
Finally,
Take a deep breath at the edge of that flat expanse.
Now,
You can see it is far wider than you expected,
Wide enough to lie down on and a number of you in length.
Bird-like,
It appears as one larger,
Smooth surface amongst all the little pebbles.
Across the way,
Just barely visible to your eye,
You can see another and you know there is one equidistant to your right and left,
Four in all,
All pointing inwards,
All pointing down.
Take another slow breath as you stride out onto it.
Feel the warmth this great mass has absorbed.
Revel for that brief instant in the comforting sensation.
Then remember you must move on.
Following those metallic beaks of these great ancient objects,
Let your gaze wander past them to the next step in your path.
Even from this height,
You can see it,
The great wall of wire tangled together,
Barbs and razors all pointing out.
As one solid mass,
It wards you away as it would anyone.
Feel yourself smile,
Ever so slightly,
As you step off of your smooth,
Warm perch and back into the glimmering,
Artificial pebbles.
This walk takes longer,
Though the sky never changes.
The mass of wards slowly growing is the only thing that brings you knowledge of your progress.
And you do make that progress,
With careful,
Measured steps.
Come up along that huge edifice and see what you were looking for,
What you knew would be there.
Approach that door,
Clearly marked and distinct from the wire barrier,
And take note of the deep lines etched into it.
There are nine in total that lead through the wire,
Distinct in appearance,
Yet also evenly spaced.
Press your hand against this one and feel the old brass,
Deep nooks showing something which even you do not know the meaning of.
Those symbols,
Some twisted geometry of meaning and being,
Have long since lost their value,
And now come across only as twisted decoration.
Perhaps someone will come and decipher them,
But you are not that person.
You are here to open this door.
With a clever gesture and careful prodding,
Feel into one of the larger grooves and that hidden little latch,
The one you know must be there.
Take a deep breath as you apply pressure,
Allowing the mechanism to trigger and the door to slide back and ever so slightly up.
Gently bend,
At the hips not the waist,
And crouching to your knees,
Find,
Now revealed,
Little grooves in the ground.
See how the door has shifted just enough to move.
As you lift,
Notice how well-oiled the grooves are after all this time,
As the barrier almost effortlessly slides up into the tangle of wire and blade.
Then,
After only the briefest of pauses,
Stride inside,
Allowing the door to fall.
Notice how it never booms,
Just merely clicks back into place,
Seemingly barely affected by your actions.
Notice also how the gray light from the world around you permeates here as well,
The top of the barrier open to the ever-clouded sky.
The depression terminates here,
Far down in the center of this place,
And as you stride forward,
See that edge where you know you cannot cross.
There is nothing there.
The most terrible nothing that has ever been,
One singular point,
Just noticeable as a ripple,
Distorting the world on the other side.
As the gravel slides away and stops,
Take note of how close you can get,
And know to move over that threshold would destroy even you.
See the boundary,
And notice the shifting emptiness.
Understand what this meant for so many now long gone.
Understand what it means for you.
Pause,
Just at the edge of this boundary.
Take a slow,
Deep breath,
In,
Wait.
As you exhale,
Feel the past both pouring over you and forever leaving you.
Then,
Once the weight of thought has left,
Stop,
Look forward again,
With another deep breath.
Remember.
This has been Desert of Finite Whispers,
A Blue Path meditation of the fatal neutrinos,
Stories of histories that weren't,
Futures that mustn't,
And places that cannot be.
Thank you for listening.
I hope your day is calmer and a little more surreal for it.
This is Easton,
And remember,
I'm as much a work of fiction as anything you hear.
