R.H. DONOVAN

Title: Speak Freely

Recreated: 28th September 2023

Revised: 2nd March 2025

Inspirations: I was writing a story for one of those Reedsy writing prompt contests, but I never ended up submitting it.

“Speak now.”

There was no end to the darkness. No walls for its voice to echo, so its words were spoken clearly and final. And those words carried on forever, like yelling into a fog. So its request was ultimate.

“What?” was my response. 

Speak, in reference to what? I wondered.

But the voice was quick to respond. “You heard me, speak now. Please.”

I’m persistent with my thoughts. For a brief moment I find concern in the darkness. I find no need to speak about it now though. In retrospect, perhaps I felt the darkness was ultimate, like its voice. Why question when one’s eyes are closed?

“You think, but you do not speak,” the voice persists.

“What should I speak about? I don’t think you’re clear enough.”

“Oh,” the voice said, trailing off. A lighter tone fills its throat. “Speak to me… about it. I guess would call it, life? I can’t comprehend it.”

I raised my hand up in surprise, only to be met with the darkness once more. I tried to touch my shoulder and still couldn’t feel it. I had no body. I had no arms. No eyes, no mouth. I paniced, scrambling every part of my body that didn’t exist. A heart racing that wasn’t there.

“Relax…” The voice drones. “It’s normal.”

“Where the hell is my—”

“You’re beyond the realm of biology. Now please, explain life.”

I tried to look up at the voice. If I even could. “You don’t know what life is?”

Darkness seemed to bend around me. I could only feel it. But the voice was breathing. And it had made a sigh. “I do… For me, it’s a section of time that is linear, from the birth of your biological body to the end of your biological body. Or to be more accurate, the neurons forming awareness in your brain to the last firing of said neurons. But I haven’t experienced this so called linear time that you call life. What’s that like?”

“First of all…”

The voice was quiet while I thought to myself. Thought. That’s a funny word. I don’t know what this thing is but I know I’m separate from it. As if I have the skin of my body to define that separation…. I don’t even know if this is a world that exists.

“Take your time,” the voice reassures. “Thought is a funny word by the way.”

And it can read my thoughts… great.

I spent another moment going over those thoughts.

“Life is like… it’s not like that,” I finally say.

“It’s not a complex dance of biological functions? Of temporal lines and strings, moving in the void?” the voice questioned. 

“I suppose it can be, but it’s not like that at all. It’s a process of many things.”

“Like the composition in the air, the nutrients in the soil, and the sun in the sky?”

“I see where you’re going, but it’s more than that.” I clear my throat… I clear my throat? Do I have one? “There’s something different, something that I can’t tell you and that I feel like you can’t find out either.” 

It’s like telling a fish what lungs are like. 

I mean, if you were to ask me, I like to think that life has more meaning than just what we see. Some sort of karma that links us all. Some greater currency of life that doesn’t exist as a currency because such a worldly concept doesn’t exist amongst immortal beings. But I don’t know.

“A fifth axis of being. Three dimensions of space, one of time, and one life?”

“That’s the easiest way of putting it.”

“I know.” Its voice pitched up. “I was perplexed by your thoughts.”

I scoffed. “Then you know, I’m going to ask this now. Are you god?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No… how would I be god? I can’t control what happens in life. No one can. And besides… I’m here now anyway.”

“Who says you can’t change your life? You can’t control the dimensions of space, but you can move things. You can’t travel through time, but you can live life slower?”

Yeah. I wish.

“Am I dead?” I implore. “Speak. Now. Tell me the truth.”

The voice was silent for several, long moments.

“Suppose you did die without knowing. You can’t control what others do, but you could’ve been easier on yourself. Helped your health, at least your heart.”

My heart? What was this crap?

“I had a career to work on,” I countered.

“Did you need to worry about your career when you slept? How the hourly calls and daily meetings felt in a world where life is as axial as time?”

“My family—”

“Would’ve enjoyed it if you were there.”

I raised what I think was my finger. “Don’t put words—”

The voice spoke for me again. “These are your own thoughts. Really, you’re speaking to me now as you have always spoken. Perhaps I should ask now that I ponder, aren’t you god?”

“I am?” 

What to make of it? I don’t know anymore….

“The case is settled then,” the voice said, smiling. “If you say you are dead, then you are dead.”

“So what are you, really?” I said, raising my voice.

And the voice spoke softly. “I am you.”

“So, speak freely.”