Beanum Infinitum

Once there was a bubble. Streaming around the surface of this bubble were billions of galaxies swirled in endless colors twisted throughout the light. Tucked into a single spiral arm of a single spiral galaxy, Earthlings, traveling on a blue dot, gazed up, marveling at the enormity of such a mysterious bubble. Among their attempts to grasp its size, the Earthlings gave birth to a word. A word for the 230ish billion galaxies that lit their sky at night, a name for the armada of swiftly tilting giants sailing through space, a sound they could whisper when they looked up and stared at the Universe. To those who stared the most, the bubble confessed that it had no beginning and no end. The thought of something having no beginning gave birth to a word pulsing with the essence of the Universe. This word meant everything that had ever been and anything that would ever be. The sound of its letters whirling in their ears made them stare into a place that existed only in the imagination. In that blissful oblivion, the word Infinity was born, and with a single glimpse, plunged the Earthlings into an endless rift through space and time. From the rift, the Earthlings saw the entire Universe; from the rift they saw a parade of transforming light marching galaxies into the dark. From there infinity made them afraid to look up, and drove them crazy by showing them over and over there was no such thing as up. The Earthlings, forced to search for their place amongst the infinite and its stars, stared…at everything. After millions and “meellions” of years, all they found was a loneliness as monstrous as the bubble they had imagined. They began to forget what they were hoping to find, and instead haunted places they had been, afraid to leave; afraid their answer would laugh at their backs. Tangled in despair, the Earthlings frantically gave birth to another word. The sound of these letters challenged the power of the Universe and swore the search had not been in vain. Cascading from the supernatural, their word rescued them from infinity by audaciously proclaiming them “Masters of the Bubble.” The Earthlings, exalted beyond belief, used the word to create extraordinary stories. Extraordinary stories that helped them build a temple the Universe could see. And for 5000 years, they rejoiced while the word whispered again and again that they were Special. However, infinity’s true power had always been immeasurable time, and its vindictive patience made their sacred letters betray them. Sonic waving supernovas announced the parade of transforming light. “Fanfaric” and merciless, the parade, thundered on the walls of the Earthling Temple causing the stories, used to build the colossal columns, to quake in agony. The Earthlings cowered inside their trembling temple as the quaking groans from above created a mist. In the wake of their imminent demise, clung to the columns, were others, furiously forging the truth of their greatest triumphs. But the mist had grown thicker than the hairy chest of Greece, and the forgers echoed pleas booming from their hammers for the next swings to be their last. Outside, a storyteller, cloaked in time, and a group of philosophers cheered that everything was not lost. The philosophers laughed that their temple had never been the crumbling fortress shattering around them. The storyteller cried apologizing that it had taken so long. They cheered that a story remained.