by Jonas David
We'd all been sitting around that table for so long we'd forgotten most of our lives before or
where we'd come from. We just had our names, some vague memories of a place before all this,
and an endless white void to stare into.
Or sometimes a black void. We spent a lot of time arguing about which was better.
"Today, we should make something," said Tessa. Her brown, curled hair floated around a face
that had too many angles to be called attractive by most. But looks can grow on you after . . .
well, however long we'd been there. "The . . . air, is ripe for it," she continued. "I can feel it,
"Every day you ask this in some fashion," said Alec, his voice plodding and tedious. "You must
know the answer by now." Alec didn't look like Alec anymore. He'd sort of devolved into a
shapeless floating . . . thing, with no mouth or face or limbs or hair. His voice seemed to appear
in front of him, with no source.
Day - the cycle of dark-colored void and light-colored void. Tessa liked it light, Alec liked it
dark. Every once in a while one would give in to the other and the void would change color.
Neither ever took the time to seek out my opinion on the matter.
Tessa glared at Alec, ages of frustration boiling behind her dark eyes.
"But this is so boring!" Her voice boomed, her words flying out in an explosive wave of sound
that shattered the table into a billion tiny splinters, which then burned to embers and faded to
nothing. A moment later it reformed between us, a cloud of smoke swirling up into the shape of
the table, then hardening.
I scooted my chair forward and reformed my ears, which I'd sealed off in case of a following
outburst. I rebuilt my mug of tea, one of the few things I was allowed to create, and took a sip.
"Existence only leads to suffering," said Alec in his floating monotonous voice. The void was
his place, his legacy. Not that he'd created it -- it had been ages since Alec had lifted a finger to
create even a chair to sit in. He was, though, the one that kept it empty. "Pure peace," he
continued, "can only be reached through the absence of all action. The absence of being."