This week’s Masturbation Monday prompt is an amazing image that combines space and female form, and, being a bit of a connoisseur of both, I felt the need to write something related. So I dredged up another draft from half a decade back, a piece reflecting on what a black holes borne from an exploding star might think and feel, were their minds in any way similar to human. And who knows, maybe they are.
She stirred. Or, rather, her mind and senses did, as her body remained nearly still. The violence of her awakening has all but dissipated, with only a few ripples gently rocking her bulk, their familiar ringing growing increasingly faint. Then they died down, as well. All was finally still. The Universe opened before her anew.
She marveled at the contrast between various parts of her. Her mind was her fortress, impossibly concentrated, like nothing else she could sense. The rest of her was immaterial, insubstantial, yet able to feel the world and affect it. She felt her nearly infinite capacity to remember, to deduce, to discover, yet almost no ability to apply this knowledge to shape the world. This contradiction was tantalizing. Knowing that her presence shaped the world around her, yet being unable to manipulate these effects. This inability was maddening, but also relaxing. There was not much to do but observe, soak in the senses, revel in the constant stream of information coming in, absorbing it all, remembering it all.
For most of her existence her nutrition is a feeble and slowly diminishing but steady trickle of bland massless goop, nearly devoid of the tasty morsels of information. Being slightly warm means losing energy through radiation. And losing energy means losing knowledge. Soaking up the goop from the surrounding space replenishes the lost energy. And knowledge. Every ray of light, every clump of hydrogen atoms brings the strands of entanglement with outside. Sometimes she is in for a treat. A cloud of dust passing through. A rogue planet. Once in a few billion years, even a whole star. First zipping by, not quite fast enough to escape, then circling, closer and closer, bleeding, first its atmosphere, then its mantle, then, eventually, its core plunging into her. Disturbing the spacetime around with huge burps of gravitational radiation and gamma rays. She is familiar with those, having felt them coming from elsewhere, from others like her, feeding. And sometimes food comes in copious amounts, but with no informational content to speak of. Dark matter. The blandest food of all. Not entangled with anything except by the weakest of links, gravity alone. Meaningless fat. But it extends her lifetime, balancing the loss with the gain, for awhile, and she was thankful for it.
Once in a great while the cosmic flows would bring another one like her close enough to start the dance. The invisible tendrils of gravity extending between them would be strong enough to make a ripple on their unchangeable borders. Tiny at first, but just enough to slow each one down a bit. Now bound to each other forever, they feel the tug between them, growing weaker as they draw further apart, then stronger again as they zip by each other at the closest point. Each time slowing down just a bit. Neither was in any rush. It was but a dance to alleviate the monotony of infinite nothingness, and, in a few million years, it would end all too soon.
The intricate dance, the ripples through spacetime announcing to the world what was to come, sometimes obscured by the mutual feeding on a passing gas cloud. Almost a proper date, by the standards of a long extinct race of creatures bound to a rock around one of the yellow dwarf stars that once came perilously close and was devoured without mercy, its warmth, knowledge and matter absorbed and joined with the rest.
The link between them, stronger and stronger, let them talk in the language no one else in the Universe could understand. Sharing their wisdom with each other as fast the the light itself, more and more excited by the companionship like no other. But the consummation can wait. They circle each other now, spinning gently, locked in an unbreakable embrace. Taking their sweet billions of years to get closer and closer together. Ever so slowly getting more and more excited, shaking the world outside more and more. Until, so close together they could not stand the distance between them anymore, they plunge toward each other in mere seconds, blasting their excitement for all to feel, and reaching the climax as they join, forever, merging into one, never to be apart again.
She did not die in the usual sense, some trillions of years from now. From the instant of her birth she knew of her end, felt it just like she felt every moment in between. She knew how violent it was, is, and will be, almost as violent as her birth, in some ways even more so. She knew it all because her mind, the singularity at the center, was outside the time flow. No, that is not quite right. Her mind was at the end of the time flow, as she was regarding the Universe from the future end. But all of the past was only an instant away for her, not the billions of years passing outside. So she felt everything vividly, like it only just happened. Because it did only just happen, as far as she was concerned. Most other minds in the Universe existed in time, unaware of their own future selves and only dimly aware of their own past. And then they died and were no more. How odd, she thought. How incomplete. How sad.
She felt sad about her own death, too. She could trace herself through her spectacular demise only so far into the future, into a spectacular explosion of light. The moments before she was no more, her capacity for thought dropped below a critical threshold. She knew what would happen after, because she was smart enough to predict it, but she could not feel it. Not that the “after”, the part of the Universe she did not know about, would be all that interesting. That far in the future, with the expansion of the Universe pushing all but a few stray clumps of light and matter beyond the horizon, there was little to learn from. By the end, the flow of information was barely a trickle, taking only the tiniest part of her memory. And so the loss of information went up, until she no longer had the capacity to think. But, as far as she knew, the Universe had all but died before she did.
But even with her near infinite knowledge of the Universe, she did not know everything. Just past her inner senses, right there inside her mind, the spacetime curved on itself so violently, it ripped itself apart in another immense explosion, one that cannot be seen from this Universe. One she could only hint at in her measureless ponderings, but one just as real nonetheless. It was another birth, even more violent than hers, and more fruitful than hers, one that would last and last and last… as a new baby universe she was the mother of, in a cruel cosmic irony linked forever, but never to know each other.