We are that we are. We are the ones who learned to free our minds from our bodies. We are the ones who will exist forever. We are the ones humans call upon when they are in need.
We are gods.
All who came before us are no more, not even a thought upon the solar winds.
The ones who came after, the humans, we use for our amusement. There is no afterlife for them–only an eternity of nothingness.
And for some inexplicable reason, I find that sad.
Deeson says that I should not concern myself with them, that their short lives mean nothing. But weren’t we all once like them? Our race, I mean. Scurrying all over the surface of a tiny, insignificant planet, in a tiny, insignificant galaxy. A speck in the cosmos. Tied to a place and time.
So many eons ago . . . I barely remember . . .
I was once a human male. I think this because it is the female humans I am drawn to. When I ponder their shape and size and form, my core warms, pulses like a giant quasar into the ether surrounding the mass of energy that is me.
And there is one female whose prayers draw me back again and again. I want to be the one who answers her supplications and brings her joy.
And Deeson tells me this is a bad thing, a dangerous thing.
The female is lonely . . . sad. I see it in the aura that surrounds her physical being–as it does all humans. It is as gray as the ashen sea of the moon that circles Karpithia. I watch her as she goes about her life: cleansing her unclothed body, putting the unneeded paint on her beautiful face, going to–what is it now? Oh, yes. A job. Something she does to sustain her life. She goes to this job when Sol is on the other side of the Earth, to a place where males watch her take off her garments. They stare at her like a pack of starving dogs, and she nothing but meat to be consumed.
Then she goes back to her resting place. Alone. She is always alone.
I watch her when she sleeps, the glow that is my physical manifestation lighting up her face. Dark hair the color of a collapsed star from which no light can escape, surrounds a face I find so exquisite I would cry from the beauty of it–if only I could. I watch until her emerald eyes open, then I retreat.
Something is wrong; the female has quit praying. She has given up for I cannot grant her what she needs and wants: happiness.
I see a small, flat thing laying beside the object she uses to clean the bones in her mouth. She picks it up and draws its edge across the first finger of her other hand. A thin line of blood appears. She looks up and smiles at her reflection, and in that smile I see immeasurable pain. And though Deeson has warned me against it, when she lays down to sleep, I slip inside her mind. I have to know the cause of her misery.
I see and it is terrible. I see her as a child, the act called sex being forced upon her. Not once, but many times by the human who had fathered her. I see her a little older on the streets of a city. Here, sex is not forced, but it may as well have been; without giving it, she would starve. And later still, sticking needles in her thin, pale arms.
Then light. A smiling man walking beside her as she cradles an infant to her breast. Crossing the street, the vehicle slamming into them. Her waking in a white room, the man and infant no more.
Then the return of darkness.
And the beginning of hopelessness.
And I know what she is going to do.
I cannot stand it! I cannot bear it! I cannot lose that which I have found.
I jerk myself out of her mind. She opens her eyes, sits up in bed, and stares at me, awe written upon her face. I slowly move closer until I am hovering in the air so close she could have reached out and touched me. My light paints her face golden.
“W–what are you?” she asks.
I cannot answer; I have no mouth. So I show her. I flow toward her, pouring over her skin in waves of light. I enter every orifice of her body, my warmth easing the coldness in her veins. I travel throughout her in the river of her blood. There is no place inside her I do not penetrate. I fill her completely.
She falls onto her back, her body arching. “Ahhhh . . . .” she and I breathe out as one. Then we are still.
“Don’t ever leave me,” she whispers.
I won’t. I can’t.
I have become human, and there is no going back.