The Aurora

He peered into the distance. It was hard to peer at anything in that weather with the furious winds whistling and shooting arrows towards him. But he stood there unperturbed, and from a distance it would have seemed that he was frozen. Frozen in time, as a spectator of that which was spectacular, and a sentinel of that which was serene. Roger was at the North Pole, and he was peering along the tangent at the top of the world.

He was not sure why he was standing there, alone. He had come there in search of supreme solitude, and had found it. And strangely, in the midst of those cold plains of ice, the restless longing in his heart was melting away. He listened to the tales told by the winds, and saw now why the color of peace was white. Here, his existence revealed itself in its purest form. Here, he was unquestioned, unhinged, and unbound. Here he could feel, and he could be.

In that place, there was literally no measure of time, for the sun rose and set only once a year. And when it set, it left behind a sheet of clear ice that glimmered soft and quiet in the fading light. True, it was cold and desolate, but it was also pristinely beautiful and magnificent. When the long night arrived, the empty white land found a companion in the inky black sky. And studded in the blackness were millions of stars, each of which was reflected in the millions of crystals of ice below. Roger watched as the plot unfolded. The white and the black had joined together in celebration and were lit up in shimmering silver.

And that was just the beginning, a modest prelude to an extraordinary story. Then, as if bursting through a dam, came rivers of flowing green light from the sky. The Aurora! The Curtains to the Heavens! The satin drapes of green began covering and uncovering the dark horizon. The performance had begun. Slowly the streams of green merged into a single translucent sheet, and Roger could have sworn that he saw writing on the sheet, a message from beyond his understanding. Then just as the sheet of green was diverging into newer streams, a flood of blue broke into the arena! And the blue playfully swirled around the green, teasing and inviting it to join in. The green obliged, and soon the vista was filled with green and blue spirals, hypnotizing and embracing the entire sky. Roger stood transfixed, his eyes and thoughts held hostage by the mesmerizing display. He was the sole witness to a performance crowned with splendor.

The shifting palette began changing color again. Red, purple and orange accompanied the green and blue to paint the night. A midnight rainbow engulfed the shroud above, and it was dynamic and subtle. Roger saw shapes he had never seen, and which he would never see again. There were castles and mountains, spears and chariots, fountains and roads. And so danced the spirits to some unheard divine music.

No words could describe the beauty in the air that night, no song could sing its praise. Roger stood watching, frozen in time. Eventually, after hours or perhaps even days, the Northern Lights decided to return into the deep darkness. They flickered graciously and slowly exited the stage.

Roger took a deep breath. It was the deepest breath he had ever taken.

The Slasher

His heart was pounding in his chest. His breathing was heavy. With every breath he took he could feel the oxygen coursing through his body and filling each cell with a raging fire. He could feel his nerves tingling and his muscles tense with anticipation. The adrenaline was gushing into him.

They called him the Slasher. He was the only one on the First Tetra, who had the ability to leave it. The First Tetra was the name given to the original four dimensions that the Humans had inhabited. Before the other seven dimensions were discovered, the Humans had played around with mathematical notions about vibrations in eleven dimensions, but had tried and failed to pierce through the inter-dimensional membranes. They had failed, until the Slasher was born into the First Tetra. He was one of the Travelers, who were not bound to the four dimensions of their birth, and could enter and leave the other dimensions at their will. The Slasher and the 329 other Travelers were the guardians of the Dimensional Gates, and were both feared and respected by the inhabitants of all the dimensions.

In the beginning he had been unable to control and understand his own will. But now, he had conquered his rage, and strangely that victory had crowned him with an even greater strength and power. He burst through the galaxy like a cannon, with a single-minded purpose and ferocity. His mere gaze could have pierced a thousand stars.

He had been known by a more pleasant name before this age. But since then a lot of things had changed. He was called the Slasher because of the sword he carried as his weapon of choice. In the beginning he had used the sword as more of a tool than a weapon. Each Traveler needed an object from his Tetra of birth to be able to cross the Dimensional Gates. The sword had always been a symbol of honor and power on Earth, and he had chosen a magnificent blade to be his companion. A blade with a glorious and ancient history, whose shining edges had been unblemished by the passage of Time. For, the Slasher was not tied to the thread of Time.

The Slasher relished the speed and the thrill of travelling through the Dimensional Gates. It was a rush he would never get tired of. Knowing his limits gave him a sense of calm and humility, a humility that showed him that he was a mere atom of energy in the ocean of the Universe. And pushing those limits gave him a strange kind of freedom, a freedom that made anything possible, a freedom that extended to infinity.

The day the Gates to the 5th dimension had been opened was beyond doubt the most significant moment in the Humans' short history. That day was celebrated every year as the Day of Open Light, for it was the day that had opened not just the Gates, but also the Human mind -- to possibilities and wonders that till then had been barely even fathomed. Indeed, it had united the Humans in a way no other event had done before, and had imparted them with an even greater curiosity than before the revelation. But curiosity causes curious things itself. And the curiosity emanating from the First Tetra had led to several events in all the Dimensions, including the current journey of the Slasher.

The Slasher tore his way across the Gates, using every inch of his force and endurance. He had to reach the Diamond Star.

(To be continued...)

Duality

Lisa liked to go to the lake, in the orange glow of the sunset, and watch the ripples in the water. It made her feel lost, and at the same time, fully aware. It was where she felt at home, her own place of belonging. She was mesmerized by the endless continuity of the ripples. She was a woman of science, and being intrigued and curious was a part of her nature.

James liked to stay in his cabin, in the orange glow of the lamps, and listen to the drops falling on the roof. It made him feel relaxed, and at the same time, extremely powerful. It was his own place of belonging, where he felt at home. He was fascinated by the endless discreteness of the drops. He was a man of faith, and being satisfied and content was a part of his nature.

Lisa had a deep relationship with music, for the dynamics of each song she heard gave her a liberating sense of movement through time. James, however, was a connoisseur of paintings and sculpture, and he found a strange peace in experiencing the static, that which was immovable in space. In the fabric of space-time, Lisa found fulfillment in the exciting process of becoming, while James found it in the undisturbed state of being.

James often thought about free will and fate, and he intuitively knew that somehow they were connected. It was a question he found worth pondering, and he wondered if he was pondering because he could, or because he should. For him, the cause had always been more important than the effect. Lisa, on the other hand, had always been more concerned with the effect, and found it worth her while to look for answers. She relished the pure logic and reason that spoke of the duality of waves and particles, of electricity and magnetism, of the vertical and the horizontal. While James was interested in the aesthetics of symmetry and asymmetry, Lisa was interested in the scales of the very large and the very small. James believed in the internal, Lisa in the external.

Yet though they were different, they were also the same. The threads of duality had woven them inseparably together, although they had never met. They were independent individuals who were parts of the same whole, and were thus dependent on each other. They both had played with predictability and uncertainty, with complexity and simplicity. They had both taken upon themselves the responsibility to explore the relative and the absolute. Sometimes they had been the hammer, and sometimes the nail. Sometimes the sword, and sometimes the sheath. They were both devoted worshipers of the supreme duality of the finite and the infinite. And they were both waiting for the Event --the Event that would unite the Yin and the Yang.

The night and the day overlapped in the mysterious mosaic of twilight, and the fading light merged into the glowing shadows. They both sat still, waiting to see what lay in that unseen spectrum between black and white.

The Quest

The Desert was breathtakingly magnificent that evening. The deep red glow of the sun cast its velvet blanket upon the entire landscape. Usually the fading light made the desert look powerful and menacing. But today was different. Today the patterns of sand on the dunes were like the smooth designs on a flowing texture of silk. The desert seemed endlessly full and generous, and instilled a sense of trust that was unquestionable. The deceptively stationary dunes were opening their arms in a welcome embrace.

Hassan sat on the sand and took it all in. He was acutely aware of himself alone in that wide span of emptiness. But he knew deep down that he was a part of the desert, inseparably connected to it. The red blood that flowed in him was not so different from the red sand that filled the desert. And that connection gave him a sense of security he could not fully explain. All the fear in him seemed like a mere pebble that did not belong and did not matter in that soothing vastness. He trusted the desert implicitly. He always had. He had been trained to.

The Dune Sailors were a strange tribe. They were fierce, they were fearless, and they were completely free. Their traditions were centered around the absence of desire and want, which filled their journeys with great peace and contentment. They were masters in the art of survival, and loved the Desert more than anything or anyone. And when they traveled across the Desert, none could match their endurance and speed, which was why they were called the Dune Sailors.

Hassan held the soft sand in his palm. He had a task to perform, a quest to complete. It was an honor to be chosen for the quest, and it was also a test. "Go forth my son, ", the Eldest had said. "Go forth and find that which lies in the center of the Desert." Hassan had a look of confusion on his face. "But what should I look for?", he had asked. The Eldest had stared intensely into the distance, as if he could see what lay there, or as if he had seen it in some long forgotten age. "If I told you, you would not find it.", he said. It hadn't made sense then. But Hassan was beginning to understand now. The only way he would find what he was looking for, was by letting go of the desire to find it.

The Desert wind whispered in his ear: "Follow the Mirages, but don't let them lead you."

From the Silence

(You may like to listen to this song while you read:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYsts3Ww0JQ&feature=related )

He stood at the window. The curtains were drawn. The sunlight was barred from engulfing the room in its bright splendor, and was instead relegated to mingling with the quiet shadows. The thin beams that did pierce through only served as channels for the unsettled dust to flow in hypnotizing patterns. He did not desire to see what lay beyond the self imposed barrier of those curtains.

In the corner of that dark dusty room that he had lived in for the past twenty years, lay his companion, his freedom, his soul. The dust on the piano curiously resembled the layer of silver on his head, and was benevolent and gentle in its bearing. He looked over at the piano and smiled. It was a smile that was both sad and beautiful, joyous and painful, twinkling and hopeful. He sat down in front of it and looked at his hands. The old wrinkles had a lot of stories to tell, and a lot of stories to play. The feeble beams of sunlight looked like they were from another time. The silence in the room was a treasure chest locked and buried. His hands began unlocking it.

Dal Niente, out of silence, from nothing, he began creating the simple notes. The quiet humble sounds that were his beginnings in obscurity and which had brought him a lightness that he had never felt again. The notes became thicker, more sophisticated, the bricks in a structure that was fascinating and yet unknown. His one hand smoothly and almost unconsciously laid the platform for the other notes to daydream upon. The story began to unfold. Again and again there was hope in the song, and optimism in the story. The soft sounds started scaling higher and higher, with a joy that seemed unbounded. They rose like a deep breath, fresh and fulfilling, and then hit a plateau. A repetitive pragmatism that made sense, but could not go on forever. There was a curious significance in that repeated pattern, as if it were a law. The law that made the sun rise again and again, that kept the waves coming back to the rocks, that created the leaves on the trees. And then the plateau began to transform into something entirely different.

The repeating notes built upon each other and began rising again. This time the rise was not just hope, but was enriched by strength and action. It was a journey that spoke of courage and anticipation, with the notes becoming more and more pronounced. The song now had both hands helping it on its way upwards, to seek inspiration and be in awe of the suspense that lay beyond. They went further and further towards the eagle in the sky, towards the moon and the stars. The pace quickened, the melody bloomed, the layers merged into one, the notes grew louder and louder until they burst into a crescendo of exhilaration! There was no sky! There was only pure wonder and pure ecstasy. In that palace there was everything and there was nothing. In that moment there was no time.

He opened his eyes. The veil was lifted. The notes started descending, reluctantly, unable to let go and unable to stay. The disappointment began to engulf the song, as it stared down at the abyss below and left the heaven above. It looked behind, and paused in its way. And the disappointment gave way to fear and anger as the layers of music stumbled over each other struggling to go back up, but kept sliding down nonetheless. The fight continued, till a calmness gripped the song, and the notes embraced their descent.

And as they did so, the calmness turned into surprise, and the steep fall met a plateau again. But this plateau was different from the previous. It was a much wiser song, which spoke of learning, of healing, of giving. The repeated tune reminded that the memory had been real, the hopes had been true, and the satisfaction had been complete. And the notes now melted into a melody of exquisite sadness, that was slow and full, and wrung the heart into a knot of deep nostalgia. The feeble light glinted in the tear that rolled down on his wrinkled face. The memories were all that he had now.

But that was not how it would end. The sadness was merely the ship for the belief to sail back to the shore. The belief and hope would finally take the song to a new place. The song began looking up again and the notes turned into a stairway, not steep but long and unending. And the notes began fading away into the distance, but with a contentment that was hard to fathom and imagine. The summation and the closure of it all lay at the end of those stairs. Slowly the notes faded away, into the silence, Al Niente.

The Mirrors

It was alive. There was no other way to describe it. It was mysterious, intricate, beautiful and alive.

The utter and complete blackness was everywhere surrounding it. And the veins of light pierced through the darkness like gold in the deep mines. There were no shadows, no gray areas. The tendrils of light extended to the outer reaches of the entity, where they led the assault against their invincible enemy. The darkness had always been there, and one wondered if it was in fact the light that was the void.

There seemed to be sources, but they might as well have been the destinations. There was no definitive order, and yet there seemed to be rules. There were shapes set in purpose and boundaries drawn between them. But they were all connected. And there was movement--ceaseless movement with perfect co-ordination. There were grids and there were circles. There were graceful curves and sharp edges. There were short lines and long ones. There was variety and symmetry. And most importantly, there was a blissful harmony that just made sense. It wasn't just alive, it was intelligent.

The electricity fired up and died down repeatedly. The pinpoints of light glimmered in their fundamental color, as if the stars themselves had mirrored their stories in them. The pulses of energy flowed from one end to the other and back again. It was pulsating with life and it was growing. And the energy was its blood.

It was a rough landing, but he was glad he had chosen the last window seat on the plane.

The God of Ants

"Brothers!! Fellow Ants!! There is something that you must hear!" The excitement in the ant's voice was overwhelming. All the other ants paused in their work. They stopped carrying the heavy burdens of food they had brought from distant lands. They stopped constructing the massive structure that they called home. They all stopped in their seemingly endless tracks and gathered round the mound on which stood the ant that had spoken.

"Brothers! I have had the most amazing experience which I must share with you." The ants were listening to him curiously. "A few days ago, I got separated from my tribe of ants, when I wandered into unknown territory searching for food. As it was growing dark, I lost sight of my trail and could not find my way back home." The ants were losing interest. Everyone got separated once in a while. Some turned back to their work.

"I was searching desperately for a trail, but was utterly and completely lost. I did not give up hope, and kept searching." The ant continued, "I eventually found myself at the foothills of the Great Mountains." There was a gasp followed by a loud silence. Only a few ants had ever dared to venture that far. For beyond the Great Mountains lay the Eternal Darkness. "I knew it was futile, but I began climbing the mountains to get my bearings. The road was hard and slippery. The wind blew me down again and again, but I had to reach the top. It was my only chance." They were all listening to him now.

"After a frightening struggle, I finally conquered the mountain. And it was here that I witnessed the most extraordinary thing. I suddenly felt myself lifted above the mountains. I thought it must be the strong wind lifting me, but I was moving in a direction opposite to the wind. It was painful and ecstatic at the same time. I was lifted high high above, and although it was merely a few moments, it felt like an age had passed by in the valleys below. I opened my eyes and saw it-- the Eternal Darkness. It lay before me--terrifying and mesmerizing. It was the birthplace of the wind and was filled with all the water in the world. I was scared."

"And I was completely stunned by what happened next. Suddenly I was looking at two huge orbs of grey ahead of me. The orbs were surrounded by an eerie white luminescence. It was the most hypnotizing spectacle I had seen, I was lost in awe and I lost all sense of time. I do not know how long I looked into those orbs. Then I caught a glimpse of what lay above the orbs. And I could not believe my eyes. There lay a large forest of Antennae above. Dark thick Antennae that moved as one. It was as if they were sensing every event of our world." There was a look of profound emotion in the ant's face.

"And then it was over. Before I realized what was happening, I had been placed at the foothills of the Mountains again. In a dazed and confused state I wandered for hours. When I regained my composure, I realized what I had just seen." The ants were looking at him in undisguised amazement.

"I had witnessed the Great One. I had witnessed God on his throne in the Great Mountains at the edge of the World!"

John stood on the rocks on the beach. He stared into the sea. It was peaceful, and a gentle breeze blew in his hair. As he glanced below, he saw an ant scrambling across on a rock next to him. For no reason at all, he picked it up and brought it close to his face. He peered at it and smiled. "Thank God my life isn't as meaningless as yours!", he thought.

As he set the ant down his smile wavered. Somewhere inside a voice said to him "But what if it is?"

Dreamscape

She was special. Just like everyone else. She liked to think of herself as an artist-- restless and free. Her paintbrush was her imagination, and her canvas was the Dreamscape.

They were few in number. And although she did not know it, Sarah was one of the most skilled among the Sleepers. For ages people had been intrigued by the notion of sleep. For ages people had tried to decipher their dreams. For ages they had failed. Some thought of dreams as bridges built across memories, while some looked at them as merely irrelevant resonances of neurons. Some speculated that dreams served as recycling and reorganizing processes to consolidate the massive information input to the brain, while some believed dreams to be a fulfillment of unsatisfied emotions. Some agreed that all these may be true, and some declared that each one was false. Sarah was intrigued by their confusion. She perceived them with the same mixture of amusement and exasperation of an artist who paints a beautiful painting, and then listens to observers voicing their interpretations and critique. Only the artist knows what the painting really meant. And Sarah was an artist. An artist of the Dreamscape.

She stood alone in a dark room. Around her a hundred candles were glimmering in a circle. This was always where she collected her thoughts. There was a subtlety involved in the technique, which she had learnt to master. The trick was to float in that realm between the conscious and the unconscious -- to be present and absent at the same time. It was the so-called 'sweet spot'; where she was aware that her mind was wandering, but made no effort to change its course. She was soon asleep.

The window was open. Beyond it lay the magnificently unknown Dreamscape. The eagle swooped down in its majestic flight and a bell started ringing rhythmically. She was moving very fast. Suddenly she was the eagle. The mountains below her beckoned her to descend. She landed on the highest peak. Her white dress flowed in the wind and the clouds lay beneath her. She could see the bell now. It was on another peak far away, and each chime created waves of colors. She had what she needed. She walked in an endless field. A huge tree stood at the brink of the horizon. She opened her hand and found the bell. She opened her other hand. In her palm lay a watch, whose hands moved at her will. In the Dreamscape, time and space were her tools. But like any tools, one needed the skill to handle them. And the Sleepers had the gift to be able to do so. This was why they could create their own dreams and observe what others dreamt. This was why they were artists.

"Reality is what the mind perceives", she had heard her father say. "What the mind sees, what it hears and what it senses by touch, it perceives as real."

"So if I close my eyes and shut my ears and float in space, will reality disappear?" she had asked.

Her father had smiled, pleased that she had asked the question."No, it would only mean that your reality is different from everybody else's. Now sleep, my dear."

Sarah had slept. She had dreamt. She had made the Dreamscape her reality.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dream

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzm8kTIj_0M&feature=related

Singularity--Part 1

It was here. It was finally here. Adam couldn't believe it. He and 9 billion others had seen it coming, but he still couldn't believe it. "I should have prepared for this day", he thought. But he was prepared and he knew it.

Several things had led the world to this point. And indeed it was the most significant point in human history. It had begun with the early prehistoric men creating sparks from stone and men shaping their thoughts into words. It was pushed ahead by great and illustrious men and women who rose above the ordinary and stood up as beacons of light guiding the ship of humanity. Aristotle, Alexander, Buddha, Hitler, Mozart, Shakespeare, Picasso, Da Vinci, Darwin, Einstein, Neil Armstrong, Sagan, Dawkins and hundreds of others would have deserved to witness this day. But even the most foresighted seers and visionaries would have hardly imagined that this day would be here so soon. And it was rightly so, for the imagination belonged to no single mind.

What it finally came down to was the ever-so-cliched paradigm that technology had progressed at an exponential rate. Moore's law had exceeded expectations and had entered the realm of genetic engineering. The Internet had connected billions of minds on the planet to create a consciousness wise enough to ban wars and find common religious ground. Something that had not been achieved in 4 million years of human existence had been achieved in 40 years. Economics, the biggest frictional mechanism that had tied down technology, had been overhauled by the elimination of money as a metric of value. The small open-source movement that had begun as a tool of collaborative development, had overrun capitalism and communism. But there were cracks that nobody had seen--yet.

Information had continued its journey from atoms to DNA to brains to technology, and was at the gateway of the fifth epoch as theorized by the wise old man of modern day, Ray Kurzweil. Technology had merged not just with human minds but also with their bodies. There were nano-computers small enough to be embedded into human cells grown from stem cells, and disease was nearly eradicated. Quantum computers had revolutionized logic itself. The concern about energy had been abruptly lifted with the advent of nuclear fusion. The misleadingly named Chaos theory had given an exquisitely beautiful and contradictorily simple answer to the complex machinery of networks ranging from vehicular traffic to weather prediction, from neurons in the brain to the social dynamics of the world. Some said this was utopia. They were mistaken. There were some frontiers yet unconquered--time, and the speed of light. Humans were still bound to this thread which had brought them to this moment.

The moment of the Technological Singularity. The point when the age of the Homo Sapiens ended and when man could now steer the direction of his evolution. Today was the day that the age of the Homo Evolutis would begin. Today was the day that Alpha Dawn, the computer that surpassed the collective intelligence of the entire human species, would be switched on.

Dec 23rd 2048. Adam, the super-conscious being, took a collective deep breath. The Singularity was here.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technological_Singularity

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOC0DBvhuaY&feature=related