My father appeared from the sky.
“D/A/D,” I said.
“Son,” he replied.
He handed me “The Construct.” In it contained the secrets to time and space, to human evolution into immortal galactic beings. My father was one of them. He had appeared from the future.
“Son,” he replied.
“D/A/D,” I said.
My father disappeared back into the universe. The year was 2013. For my father, the year – measured by humans as the amount of time it took their planet, Earth, to orbit its nearest star, Sol, aka the sun – meant nothing. Time was no longer calculable in his estimation.
I looked at “The Construct” as it sat there in my hand, a document, a vault of knowledge. I put it in my pocket and returned to my life, certain that the moment would arrive – a moment that would mean something to me and that I could perceive as separate from other moments – when it would make its use known, make it obvious. On that day my father would return and guide me into the sky with him. Until then, “The Construct” remains forever in my safe possession, away from those who would use its secrets for destruction.
“D/A/D,” I say, every day, for as long as it takes.
D/A/D
Hausu Mountain
--Ryan
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