insomniac

a conversation between two beings, one and two.

‘why is it you refuse to sleep?’ one ponders, watching two scribble away on what two said was a ‘notebook’.

“would you like to guess?” two replies, fixated on their sketch.

‘i recall your words the last time we talked. “sleep is merely a prelude to death.” am i right?’

two hums, thoughtfully. they snap the notebook shut.

“maybe. but it is… it is… a way to slip away.

quietly, peacefully, a prologue and the epilogue.

a way back into the void we came from, where my eyes can flutter shut in the dark… two gold rings dull and scratched from years on display, that can now finally rest for aeons… but they will never shine in the light of day again.

a way back into the sea of softly glowing white periwinkles and luminous purple hyacinths, where i’ll lie in the silken bed of white, white roses… where i’ll lie at rest, nothing reaching my body buried under the overgrown flowers.

a way back to the place where time doesn’t exist. i’ll be flying, weightless, free… but i’ll be drifting in, well, nothing. just floating, for ages and ages and ages on end.

a way back to the place we can sleep without awakening… but where our consciences are dead. only in death are we free… after we lose our tethers to mortality.”

two chuckles.

“was that too vague? sorry, i tend to obscure myself.

sleep is… a clear mirror, where you can stare into death, but not enter it, i guess. you can see some cables binding you away above the mirror, you see yourself suspended with red ropes cutting lines deep into your skin. you want nothing more than to feel the cold glass of the mirror to ice out the rope-burn… but to cut yourself loose means to fall, and… i don’t want to fall.”

one thinks.

‘so… death is freeing… but you do not want to die.’

one appears to be in deep thought.

‘do you, then, fear death?’

two gently taps one’s head.

“think more. deeper. do you think i fear death?”

one thinks some more.

‘no, you do not fear death.’

one hesitates, then speaks slowly.

‘you fear dying, because… you are human. am i right?’

two sets their notebook down gently. “bingo,” two smiles, and tilts their head curiously at one.

one knows this gesture — continue. one continues.

‘something… burns in you, to keep alive.

humanity… humanity burns bright. very bright. but the brightest stars burn the fastest…

humanity’s energy… it is limited. none can be created, for there is nothing to create with. none can be destroyed because nothing can be destroyed. you are living on borrowed time, your energy depleting by the day, used in the rebirth of another being. you would do anything to leave a trail, a mark, an etch, somewhere in the mountains and earth itself, with the energy you were given, before you fizzle out.

you grow more desperate, to keep going, keep searching for something that you can leave a mark on. so others can see that you existed. you lived. you want to be seen. you want to do more, feel more, see more, to live to the literal fullest, so that you use your time well. you are not done, not yet, it is not yet your time to rest.

that something compels you to keep living, keep awake, keep fearing the night.

for with the night comes rest, and with rest will eventually come the final slumber, the sleep you never wake up from, the severance of the ropes that connect you to this world.

you are falling. you are dying.

you would be dead.

am i right?’

two leans back, looking impressed. they think for a while, scribbling some more in their notebook.

“yes… yes. you’re… right. do you… have a conclusion, then?”

one muses.

‘you stay awake, running from the night, hoping to never die…

two sighs, and finishes it.

“insomniac.”

so fun fact i once wrote a story where a team of humans made an AI to basically learn and preserve the whole of the human race, so i’d like to imagine this as one conversation that happened between them after the AI developed curiosity, but feel free to interpret it any other way lol

also i’m fine i’m just posting this so i can clear it off my list