in which past meets future in an alternate reality; how they existed not as immortal beings but as mere mortals with an all-seeing eye, and where they meet to create everlasting time
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PRELUDE
the folktale told to children at night
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A mother tucks her son to sleep. He holds onto her and asks her what is to come. She promises a land filled with dreams, a tall tree with forbidden apples for him to pick. The son shakes his head. The mother tries again. She promises him a better tomorrow, a brighter day, a shorter night, a garden for him to play. The son shakes his head. He speaks with the wisdom of a sage and the certainty of a king. He tells his mother that she is wrong. He says what is to come is simple. Not complicated, not sophisticated, not of apples and trees. He says future is to come and it cannot be described or promised because it is of infinite possibilities and only God shall know what the future herself holds. The mother ruffles her son's hair and says that he, not she was wrong. She says even God shall not know what future shall hold. Only future herself shall know what is to come. And that is why he should believe her because she was future, and she could see through infinite possibilities and know what is to come.
Wide-eyed in wonder, the son clutches onto his mother. Tell me, tell me, tell me what is to come, he begs her. Is it still of forbidden apples and of gardens? She shakes her head. No, it is of no more. The son starts to cry. He asks his mother to bring back the future she promised him. The mother brings her son into her embrace. There, there, little one, she coaxes. You made the choice not to sleep then and because you made that decision, that future had been let go. Now, you must sleep. If you do not listen to me and sleep now, there will be no more apples and gardens for a long time. The son stops his cries and shuts his eyes. Slowly, gradually, he falls into a deep sleep. The mother now creeps out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her as she leaves her son's room. She makes her way into the living room where her husband, her son's father is. Is he asleep? he asks. She nods her head. Their present was asleep.
She leans against her husband's shoulder and almost instantly, her husband's arm encircles her waist, bringing her closer to him. He whispers into her ear, infinite stories, of good times and bad times; those times already set in stone. She hangs onto every word, trying to remember their past. She tries to hold onto them but nothing but the good times and bad times to come flood her brain. It was hard to hold onto the past when she was the future. If anything, it was almost impossible. The past, the future, they were separate entities, found on extreme ends of the time spectrum. They had to find the middle ground, the neutral area for them to coexist. And after an eternity, they had found it, the place where they could coexist. Where future could meet past, where past could meet future, where they could be together. They had found it finally. They found it in the present.
