Quantum Forgiveness

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It pierces the exosphere, thermosphere, mesosphere, stratosphere, and troposphere of this planet simultaneously. It has passed so many planets of so many solar systems in so many galaxies throughout the multiverse that It lost count. It is searching. It has searched so long It no longer remembers what It searches for. Yet, the search continues.

Darkness surrounds It as the planet’s rotation twirls this half of the orb away from the sun. Against the pinpoint specks of white punctuating the blue-black backdrop of space, It streaks across the sky in a luminous blaze.

It perceives waves of vibration disrupting the displaced air. These waves propagate as a cogent pattern of sound, “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.”

It pauses.

It has encountered many vibrations of sound, but this is different. This sound stirs something within Its field of perception that has remained dormant for eons. Its velocity carried It far past the sound, but It locates the source. It descends, fast enough to reach the spot instantly but slow enough to approach with caution.

It finds a red rectangular building, filled with quadrupeds arranged in fenced pens littered with long yellow stalks of dried grass. A vehicle shakes to the sound of ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra. A small identification plate attached to the rear contains the symbols, “19 KANSAS 49.”

Short walls surrounding an open flat bed make up the back of the vehicle. Inside, a haggard biped with close cropped fur surrounding the head lies, unmoving. Red fluid soaks a ripped outer covering over one of the biped's lower limbs. Above the soaked area, a rolled cloth tied to a short stick binds the limb. A smaller biped with more delicate features and adorned with long thread-like fur hanging from the head, kneels while holding the stick. This biped is the source of the sounds It originally perceived.

The vehicle’s front has an enclosed cockpit and a smaller section jutting forward. Inside is another biped shaped similar to the one kneeling, but larger and with more weathered features. This one says, “For the love of God, come on,” while turning a switch. The vehicle shakes and produces the ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra sound.

It enters the smaller section containing an internal combustion engine. It sees a few drops of liquid fuel feed a carburetion unit that makes the engine crank. There’s not enough fuel to initiate full combustion. It determines this fuel is chiefly composed of petroleum hydrocarbons. It slows the frequency of Its vibration and transforms Its matter into fuel.

Ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-va-room.

“Thank heavens,” mutters the weathered biped.

The vehicle lurches forward. The small biped in back tumbles over, letting go of the stick. The cloth loosens. A red stream spurts from the wound.

“Constance, the tourniquet!”

“Yes, Maw.” Constance kneels, twists the stick and holds tight.

Maw drives as fast as possible on the dirt roads. It collects the water and carbon dioxide byproducts of internal combustion, vibrating at a frequency to transform them back into fuel.

Constance’s grip loosens. A fresh stream of red flows.

“Constance, hold that tight and stop the blood or your Paw’s gonna die!”

It remembers death. It recalls the finality of death and the explosion of chaos enveloping the life forms left behind. Death is so clear. How does It know this?

It continues producing fuel. It also gains awareness of uric acid crystals forming within fibrous strands of tissue connected to bone inside Constance. This causes cramps, hindering Constance’s ability to grip. It finds no way to dispel the crystals. However, It detects another substance made of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen. This substance, known as “adrenaline” to these creatures, increases the flow of blood which then counteracts the crystal’s detrimental effects. It vibrates at the precise frequency to produce adrenaline. Constance’s grip tightens.

The irony fascinates It. Increased blood flow in Constance helps stop the flow in Paw.

Maw navigates toward lights shining in a building ahead. Maw stops, honks a warning device, and shouts, “Help!” Two bipeds, similar to Paw, rush out. They place Paw on a wheeled table. One holds the tourniquet while the other pushes Paw inside.

They enter a room where two more bipeds are waiting. One, shaped like Maw and called “Nurse,” cuts the cloth around Paw’s wound. The other, shaped like Paw and called “Doctor,” holds one of Paw’s upper limbs. Doctor says, “No pulse.”

Nurse points to the wound. “Look.”

No more blood oozes.

“He’ll need a miracle now.”

It is confused. Maw wants to stop the blood, but Doctor seems to want more. Inside Paw, It discerns a pumping mechanism responsible for pushing the blood through a hydraulic system connecting all the body parts. There’s not enough blood left for the pump to push. It vibrates at a frequency to produce blood. It starts flowing.

Nurse says, “Doctor!”

Red spurts. Paw has a pulse.

“Nurse, get some units of blood while I sew him back up. We may save him yet.”

Maw and Constance pray as Doctor and Nurse save Paw’s life.

It passes through Constance, who says, “Thank you.”

Something stirs deep within long forgotten fermions and bosons inside It. These feelings emanate from Its earliest recollection. It likes this feeling.

It then remembers other things, hideous things. It remembers pain, destruction, and devastation It caused. It remembers judgment and banishment. It remembers all now. It feels sorry.

Then, It senses others of Its kind calling to It -- calling kinship, welcome, forgiveness. It remembers the way home. It can go home. It is happy.

Passing through Constance again, It emits, “Thank you.” Constance smiles.

It shoots upward, overwhelmed with the joy of going home. It streaks across the sky.

It perceives waves of vibration disrupting the displaced air, “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.”

It pauses.

About the Author: 
Dave can say with a straight face he’s been a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker. He traverses time and space seeking relative truths. Dave is ordained as an interfaith minister. He teaches mathematics and statistics at a community college. When not writing, he tries his hand at acting.