Will Clarke

The organism


The organism became aware of its own breathing. Air descended its trachea rhythmically, slowly absorbing sufficient oxygen and releasing waste carbon dioxide. In contrast to most other biological necessities, this one was soothing for reason. Perhaps that was because of the immediate sense of claustrophobia and panic which crept in immediately if the breathing cycle stopped.

Its visual sensors reacted to some contrasting glyphs in front of it. Activity within its electrical cell-based processor enabled the organism to translate these runes into its primitive language and then into mental constructs. These nebulous ideas floated around carelessly, as if permeating space and time. It had grown far too used to these almost-supernatural abilities; they usually seemed mundane. But it still was enjoyable sometimes to retreat from the real world for a while. Just to escape for a bit into this limitless realm of possibility.

The organism focused intently on the words and the menaings they conveyed. It didn’t want to think about important things. Mortality, decay, suffering. These were always on the periphery of its consciousness. Threatening. The organism pushed the thoughts away and dived into the fabricated world. A world with no pain, just numbness. Distraction. Peace.