New Life
I am not awake but I am conscious. I know there is a difference. I am surrounded by a viscous liquid. It is warm and it is comfortable and I somehow know that it is what is protecting me, feeding me, keeping me alive. I feel safe here. I don't know how long I have been here. I try to stretch out but the liquid is surrounded by some sort of thick and strong outer layer that I cannot seem to break through. I feel a bit cramped in here but I am not ready to get out yet. It just feels so nice and peaceful in here.
My mind wanders and I guess I lose track of time because, even though I am in a state between awake and asleep, something 'wakes' me, brings me back to the here and now. Some muffled sounds from the outside. Something familiar. Like a voice? A soft voice, that I know, is talking to me. I cannot make out what it says, but I know it loves me. And I know that I love it. Whatever it is. The voice soothes me. I don’t feel so cramped in here when it talks to me. I long to finally meet the owner of that voice.
More time passes. I feel something tugging at my belly, and wrapping around my foot. Some kind of cord attached to me? Is it what is feeding me? Giving me oxygen? I know I haven’t taken a breath, ever. But I am not dead, so my mind tells me this cord is a very important tool for my survival. Same as the warm liquid around me, same as the thick layer that surrounds me.
What am I? Who am I? I cannot wait to find out, but I just know it is not time yet. I will get out eventually, just… not yet.
I fell 'asleep' again. If I can call it sleep. I call 'awake' when I am conscious and aware of my surroundings and the happenings outside of my bubble.
I realise I haven’t heard the soft voice talking to me in a while and am wondering where it went, when a frightening loud explosion echoes from the outside and violently shakes the entire liquid which surrounds me. I don’t know, not exactly, what an 'explosion' is. But somehow, I know that it is what I am hearing and feeling. Agitated and alert, I stretch and tug at the lining, but as much as my will is strong, I, myself, am not physically capable of breaking through the protective layer. I have this intense urge to get out now. But it is not time yet. That too, I know instinctively.
The familiar voice is not soft now. It is worried, and its nervous tone spreads to me like wildfire. I feel its physical effects in me, first from my belly, like a tingling and tugging sensation, then up and down my back, like electricity. My toes, fingers and head vibrate with this nervous energy. I wish I could calm the voice, soothe it like it has soothed me before... Do something… Anything. To help, to assist. Something bad is happening, and I am stuck in here, helpless. The noise from outside is loud and frightening. Something big collapsing… Again, I pause and wonder how I know all these things. How can my brain create all these pathways between what I can hear outside of my bubble and what I assume is happening? How can I connect the dots without having previous experiences? It is like I instinctively know without fully understanding what is happening.
The voice is closer now. Yelling some undiscerning words with an authority I had never heard from that person before. 'Person'? 'People'… Another voice, one I realise I’ve heard before as well, only much less often than the loved one. It is deeper and less… Lovable? No... not really... I'm sure it sounds lovable to someone. Just not to me. Not the same way the first voice is loveable to me. With that voice, I do not feel the same connection which I feel with the first voice. Now, some high pitch sounds start echoing in a rhythmic cadence. An alarm. And my brain understands it is the sound of something big impending. It all feels so urgent and distressing… Especially since I am unable to do anything...
The voice is inches away from me, it is soft again but the urgency still vibrates from it. It is talking to me. Words I cannot understand but which intentions bring me grief. A goodbye. No... A farewell. My heart breaks but I barely have time to feel the pieces shredding inside of me, as my whole enclosure starts vibrating and my ears are deafened by a deep, intensifying rumbling roar. It is incredibly loud, even through the muffling of my surrounding liquid. The noise and vibrations increase more and more, and I know that I am now moving at very high speed. Not me personally, I am still constrained in my bubble. But the bubble, with me inside, blasted off. Away. Away from... home? My home under attack, collapsing... Away from the soft loving voice. My bubble shakes and tumbles for such a long time… I almost get used to it. But eventually, after what seems like an eternity, whatever it is that I am inside of slows down and quietens. It becomes dead silent all around me now. And so still. My bubble is now floating.
I try stretching and moving around again without much success. I'm resigned to wait. I’ll move when it is time for me to move. I realise I feel colder than before. Not dangerously cold, just less comfortable and cosy. I drift between 'sleep' and consciousness. All is forever still, silent and tranquil. I am endlessly floating. Each passing moment, further away from my Home, my Kindred.
When I think of that, I feel sudden surges of sadness overcoming my senses. Like I know somehow, that I will never hear that soft voice again, never feel at home again. Grief flows through me while I ponder... Who was it? How did I know that voice and its owner? Why did I feel so attached to it? I now know, instinctively, that the soft voice was female. And that the other voice, the deep one, was male. I am not sure how to explain what either of these things are. I just know that they are that. Like I know, that I, too, am female.
I float in my nest forever. Although I do not know exactly what happened, I have come to the conclusion that there was some sort of attack. And now, it has been so long, that I have slowly come to terms with what happened. I have accepted its consequences, although I still grieve deeply for what is lost. I am lost, myself. I am alive, but alive for what purpose? I might as well have died with my Kindred.
I want for nothing, my nest sees to it. I have had time to ponder about my nest. What is it exactly? What is it made of? What is its purpose ? I know what it does. It is vehicular, as it was able to cover a long distance, for a long period of time. It is a medical, feeding and warming vessel, which provides me with anything my body needs. So I know I need it. But I keep on wondering what it is, how I came to be in it, and where I am and where I am going. When will I be able to get out? Can I even get out on my own, without any external assistance? And when I do get out, what am I going to do? Will I forever be alone? It sure feels like it. I have not heard or sensed any sign of life since the big explosion. 'Life'... This word is essential. It resonates with potential, beauty and importance.
Will I remember any of my internal tribulations once I get out? Will I remember what I could hear through my bubble, my loved Kindred whose voice soothed me? 'Remember'… This word too resonates. But in a way that is almost itching. I realise that I have forgotten something else, something important, when I focus on that one word. Many important things… So I dig for more, exploring all the hard-to-reach corners of my mind. Where was I before the bubble? Who was I? I don’t know what or where to start digging in my clouded mind.
I drift in and out of consciousness. I feel like my moments of awareness are shorter and rarer… Like I am fading... Am I dying? I do not feel anything about the idea. I am resigned to my destiny. What point is there for me to fear my end, or to enjoy the continuation of this pointless existence?
I am lost, for so, so long.
I am not aware of time anymore. I could understand the concept of time, somehow. But now, I can barely comprehend it… My mind is receding, slowly, and I know I am not only lost in my bubble, but in my mind too. I don’t know what reality is, what consciousness and unconsciousness are. Why does it matter where I am if I do not understand what the concept of space is?
At my most conscious moments, I am still intrigued by the fact that I seem to know many complex terms and concepts, like life, consciousness, death... I am also painfully aware that I am losing my grasp on the subjects and do not understand fully what they mean anymore. It is like wearing someone else's clothes, like trying to talk with no tongue, like trying to see without looking... Always close but out of reach.
I let myself go. It feels good to just let go. I am at peace.
I 'wake' in a jolt. All my senses are back like they never left me. Something loud is approaching. Very loud. Danger? I still cannot move much in my protective prison. Then I know something is touching the outer layer of my cage. I feel it. The noise is the one voices make. I can make out two, both unfamiliar. They sound… is it 'surprised'? No… 'shocked'. One female, one male. Like before, but not them.
I feel movement around my bubble. And then a tug, like my bubble and myself within it are being dragged by those voices. The voices are now echoing like we have entered some kind of structure. Then a loud hissing noise. Now, I discern many different voices, all urgent. The female voice, soft and pleasantly similar to my loved one's before, but not hers. It says something to the rest. And they start moving me again. I feel their touch on my bubble and the movements through it as they carry me away. I do not like this. I do not know what to expect. I do not know if I am in danger. And it aggravates me that I cannot rely on my mind, let alone my body. How can I know so many things and still be incapable of having a reasoning behind it?
They set me down somewhere and after hearing them move around and touch my bubble, it all becomes quiet and still again. I do not feel in danger now. If they have not done anything to me, I conclude they do not mean me harm. I feel relatively safe. Especially when the new soft voice visits me. It talks to me, just like my loved one used to once.
They have done something to my bubble. I feel it is constantly linked to something. Something of their own making. It is connected to the outer layer of my bubble. Some constant beeping noise from the outside lulls me to 'sleep'. I assume this is some kind of way for them to monitor me. Again I know that, but I cannot explain it. Does the fact that they are looking after me entails they mean me no harm? I think so… I just feel I am not in danger in their care.
I actually feel safer now, than when I was alone and floating in the great nothingness.
When I am in my 'dream state', I feel the urgency of an imminent major event. The lining around me feels tighter by the hour. I am both excited and nervous in my anticipation. It makes me agitated and I try to stretch and move more often now. The narrowness of my nest has become claustrophobic… I hate to admit it, but I am looking forward to getting out now. Just so I can get free of the constriction.
And then I 'wake up' and something has changed. The beeping sounds that were somewhat comforting in their monotonicity are now loud and irregular, like some sort of alarm. I feel myself panicking. It sounds so much like that alarm which tore me away from my Kindred. The incessant beeping is incredibly anxiety-inducing. Huh… Another fancy word, its meaning, clear in my head. But I am still irritatingly unable to explain my knowledge of it, or any of the rest. I barely have had an existence, and yet I already know many things. How can that be?
There is movement outside my bubble, I can hear it over the alarm. My mind is back to the here and now. I focus on what is happening outside and realise that they are doing something to the outer layer. Not to monitor me this time. It feels like they're manipulating the outer layer. I do not like that at all. It feels all violently invasive. They could pierce the outer layer... In my half 'asleep' wakefulness, I feel as though they could kill me.
I suddenly feel the cold seeping through the warm liquid. I stretch out, trying to get away from it. As I do, I feel the layer contract around me, squeezing me with great force. It is incredibly unpleasant. After a few seconds, it relaxes. But I definitely do not. The big event is happening and, even though I have been waiting for it for so long, I don’t know if I am ready for it. It is all so sudden.
It squeezes me again and again and I push away from it when I can. I push with my feet, I push with my arms. I am wiggling towards the cold , even though I wish I didn’t have to. But I know I have to get out now, or I will get crushed by the violence of the contractions of the layer. It is squeezing me so hard I fear it will squeeze the life out of me. But it actually pushes me towards the cold, helps me make my way there. It pushes me towards life.
The cold comes from a very small hole, and as I push and stretch my way down it, it stretches and tears and I can suddenly get free. The liquid that protected me for so long does not surround me anymore. I only feel... cold. It surprises me how cold it is on my bare wet skin. I gasp in shock, automatically. The air intensely burns its way through my throat as it fills my lungs. So painful this first breath is. I scream in agony. The first sound I ever made, I think… But no, I think... I realise I know my own voice… That I have heard it before. That the feeling of the vibration in my throat is so familiar to me. I wonder again. Could I have been making sounds, submerged in my protective viscous liquid? Without the presence of air in my lungs, I doubt it. No... My voice had to have made sounds before the bubble.
But I cannot focus on that now as I am assaulted by my new surroundings. Everything is so cold on my wet skin, the noises so loud in my ears and resonating after the comfortable muffled quietness of my bubble before, the air burning inside me, my skin and extremities aching with an uncomfortable tingling sensation. I struggle to take a second breath. I feel something lodged in my airway. But something harshly hits me on my back a few times and that shocks me enough to spit out whatever it was. Some liquid... My liquid? I take the second breath in. And then a third, and a fourth. I am breathing. And despite the excruciating pain, I savour the taste of life.
Now, I feel the people around me tugging at the cord attached to my belly. The last piece of my life in the bubble. They tug and fumble with it for a moment and then suddenly, I cannot feel it anymore. At all. My head swarms and I lose consciousness.
Original story & Copyright by Julia Mesrobian
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