After witnessing a suicide and knowing there was no afterlife, X tried to grant humans some of the abstract, eternal existence letters have - -angering many of the rest of the alphabet, who have now had to stop their debate because the first human to survive after death has intruded on their meeting.
Each section of this story is told from the perspective of one of the letters.
A's story is here and B's here. C talks here. Here is D. E's version of events was here. F was here. Also, G, H spokehere. Then I, then J . Click here for k, and here for L.
Today's story is, of course, from M:
Meaning what? Tell me L, tell me others, what does that mean? ‘Gods create themselves?’ Are we all to bow now to X? Are we to worship him, let him dictate what happens? Are we to subjugate ourselves to him and take orders and let him rule? Tell me, L, what does that mean? Gods create themselves. It is meaningless: for there to be a god, there must be someone to worship and I will not bow to X, or to any letter. Or any person!
Woman: Stop your meandering. Come here. Come look at me. Tell me, how you came to be here. Tell us where you come from and what brought you to this life –
… Yes, L, others, I say life because it is our life and though you now judge it harshly for eons it has been sufficient for you to live this way and not everyone wants it differently. A taste of sunshine and mortality and you wish it were always so, but not me!
… tell me, then, woman: What path brought you here?
“Where is David?”
Forget him, woman.
He is not here.
“He must be.”
You say that because you believed, because you believed that there waited for you beyond death something else, something other, something you believed was better, something that made being mortal mean something.
But there is not. Was not, at least, until you.
“David died believing.”
He believed in a thing that did not exist when he died.
“I must find him.”
“If my soul is eternal then his is, too.”
That is not…
Hold, a moment. A minute.
If my soul is eternal then his is, too.
What… what paths did you take to get here, woman?
We know that.
“I died and then was here.”
We know that.
“There was nothing in between. I took no path to get here. I closed my eyes one last time, listening to David’s record, and then I awoke here.”
Did you hear that? Others! Stop your reverie. Pull yourself close. You flicker in and out, you drift away, you scowl – A, I see you! Hold!-- We debate what we do not know. We are no better than their scholars, their priests, who endlessly philosophize about what comes next without having any idea of whether what they say is the truth, only we, we talk about what comes before and what is without knowing what has come before and what is. If my soul is eternal then his is, too, she said, and we must think on that.
We must know: did X create this?
We have been talking, talking talking talking, about what X did, but we do not know what X did. I was ready to side with you, A. I was ready to cast you out, X, even if L is right and we cannot cast you out. I was ready to do so and may still. But I hold my vote because we do not know.
If my soul is eternal.
Did X create the soul?
Or did he simply open a door for it?
Woman! Diana! You must tell us! You must tell us everything you remember, not just of lying down in your bed not just of waking up here, you must think, think think think, your memory
Must guide us, must help us determine what has happened in order to decide what must happen.
What fools decide without knowing?
“I will tell you…”
“But you must help me find David.”
And if we can’t?