Desert Sea – Philosophical Fiction

   Desolation permeated the air, as wisps of dust, heated by the angry rays of the sun, sliced his face.

     The star beat down relentlessly on his exposed flesh, sweat beaded down his forehead, for the scathing hot breeze gave no relief in the late afternoon desert oven.

    He covered his eye’s and stared blankly into the sea of bright blue sky if it could speak it would say, “Fuck you! Your not getting any water!”

    His dry mouth and barren throat lusted for relief, but none forth standing in his wasteland path.

Craggy boulders jutted sharply from the flat brown sandy ground, occasionally providing shade for snakes and birds. Here and there a large cactus cut the sky, reaching thirty feet in the air. A hundred years it had lived seeing no monsoon, or temperate weather. Just standing defiant against nature’s onslaught, rebelling against the status quo of death the desert so highly prizes.

     The desert deals out death. Slowly, first depleting your body of water then eroding at your mind, bleaching your life-sustating resources and molesting your body with a constant barrage of sand, until your left emotionaly exhausted, physically weak, and into the grasp of self loathing. The desert hates outsiders, and alien species are never welcome to its deadly beauty. It grows bigger as its heat and sand engulf life-sustaining ground; spreading it’s near virulent seed upon the nature around it.
     Punishing that ground for its own lack of green meadows and watery pools. For its sparse decoration of animals, and its uninviting appeal to life. Pleasures denied and enforced by it’s surroundings, and position on the earth.

If the realm of possibility linked his ideas then perhaps he was right. Could it be that his theory was correct?

They didn’t even consider him. They all thought he was wrong from the start, not even giving him the consideration to think about it, scoffing at him in disgust, while exalting that the truth was their scientific doctrine.
Doctrine passed down for generations, strictly enforced by the bygone establishment, even though they knew that quantum physics blew away the entire basis for are material three-dimensional reality.
Their science was religion without soul, but they stuck to their doctrine, never wanting to go over that edge which would shatter their petty little mind created construct called reality.

And now he was here in this desert lost, alone, thirsty, exhausted from the days of endless travel to a place he didn’t even know existed, but that really didn’t mean to much when he knew that the human race never really existed because all-of-time happened all-at-once, and we were just living as a pretty little afterthought alone in the void.

A cosmic ramble meaningless to the sum of the universal whole; a small minuet of awareness followed by an absolute…he didn’t even want to think about it any more for he had know way of knowing what came next.

What was the place? In fact he still did not know how he came to this desert, just that he woke up here days ago with the hot sun punching him in the face relentlessly.

“What is the last thing that I remember?” He asks himself, and the same answer, “I don’t know. I’d even trade the validity of my theory for a glass of ice water in a second.”
Trails of sweat beaded down his forehead from the dirty brown scruff that was hair. His six-foot frame moved slowly over the sand, racked with pain from the punishing heat. The salt from his sweat awakened his taste buds, reinforcing his need for h2o.

For some reason it didn’t make sense. It should have. In fact it should have worked from the start, but unforseen forces ruined the test. He still existed and this was all the proof he needed. The sun was setting in the west as the firery disk was doused by the infinite sand and scruff of his new tomb; a cactus solitarily stood like a cenotaph for the dying warrior god of the sun.

“Maybe I don’t exist he thought,” perhaps he is in the last phase of reality. Perhaps his consousness has, “No!” He screamed, hoping somebody, something, a dog even would answer his cry.

“Were am I going?“ In desperation with knees to ground, in defeat with hands buried in the cooling sand, “Is the search for an absolute truth so nessacary that we have to forsake our own existance!”

“Those are some powerful words,” an etherial voice answered him. “Almost as powerful as the words love, hate and perhaps ignorance.”

“Speaking of ignorance, are you suggesting that you should’ve not delved into taboo forces. Forces of which you could barley comprehend with your organic brain.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he got up from the ground surrounded by dusk as condensation moisted his cooled skin. Surveying the area around him he replied, “Sorry for the over used cliché’, but I wasn’t expecting something like this to happen,” he pauses, “So I was right.”

“No you’re not. In fact you can’t even comprehend the threads that you have unbound and the forces which you have unleashed,” the voice mumbled somtheing to another voice, which wispered something back. “I knew you humans would be trouble, you’re lucky that we came along when we did and saved you.”

“Save me. Why?”

“Your the last one left.”

“Left!”

“Your the last existing Homo sapien, dead and alive.”

“Then why am I in a desert?”

“Good question,” the etherial voice replies.

“Good question,” the man replies sarcasticaly. “Who are you? What are you?”

“Good question, but all I have is answers. I can’t answer questions about the scource because I’m at the center. I can only see out and I’m blind you know.”

“Are you god?”

“Well that can be debated. More like blind creation.”

“And you were right about time.”

“I was,” he replied astounded not to sure if he should be happy or depressed.

“Time is, was, a force which slowed down or temporily halted the forces of order, orginization, and structure. From the force of time the cosmos was able to be disordered into the physical laws of the material and immaterial universe, which only existed because of the material universe. You people got it all mixed up. Anyway, when you destroyed time all the laws of entropy and decay that tied the systems of the material and immaterial universe unraveled, thus ending existance.”

“You see your theory was wrong. Reality wasn’t an after thought in the void, it was the void.”

“Why don’t you recreate time?”

“As I said, I’m at the source. I can’t. I can only create without purpose,” the voice paused. “I can’t create something that isn’t created. I just don’t know.”

“Why am I still here then?”

“Good question. Probably because you were in the center, the source. You’ll probably forget because infinity still exists. It always has.”

“Your getting pretty ambigous, are you sure you know what your talking about?” asking, realizing he was now surrounded by complete darkness.

“No I really don’t. As I said I just create.”

“Wait. Hold on here. If infinity exists as an infinite number of points with no beginning and no ending. Isn’t that considered time?”

“No, time just slows the process of order down. Infinity is hard to explain.”

“Explain?”

“No thanks, its time we get to the business at hand.”

“What business,” he replies sitting down on a rock outcropping.

“You said you would trade the validity of your theory for a glass of ice water.”