Original I'm Sorry I Couldn't Reach You in Time

[Tanuki]

They did it. They devoted their life to science, life, the universe, everything, and finally moved at light’s speed.

Nobody could know.

The act was simple. They knew light traveled C Universal South, but went instantly towards Universal North. Up to this point, thanks to shoddy experimentation, everyone assumed light returned at the same speed it left, but they knew better. They knew the truth, and they could prove it with one simple step forward. They stepped forward, and mankind leapt back. They went Universal North at the speed of light, or C divided by two.

Einstein predicted approaching the speed of light impossible thanks to relativity slowing the subject as they approached the speed, but the old man was wrong. They were right, and they knew it the moment they leapt into enlightenment.

Like any scientist, they had so concerned themselves with if they could do it that they didn’t once bother to ask if they should. They died the instant they realized their folly. They saw all light, all the universe, all life in the single instant it took light to travel to them. The birth of the first human, the sun, the universe, they saw it all in the instant it took the light to reach them.

The beauty consumed them for millennia, the suffering eons more. They had left time, and with it, everyone else behind.

Nobody could know.

They tried to reach their peers first, but their peers heard nothing but unintelligible noise. Their ghost, their peers called it. They lived in the instant of all time. Days, weeks, years, centuries, eons all came and went in an instant. Every nanosecond of existence happened to them always and forever. They could see love’s first sight, but never take part. They could speak to a friend no more than their friend could hold a conversation with a movie. The movie started and ended the same no matter how much their friend prayed for a new ending. The world started and ended with no regard for their screams.

It drove them insane for a few eternities. The constant stimulus, constant barrage of the exact same everything always at all times broke their mind inside and out. They knew the fate of every atom, but not one person could know them. They were surrounded by all life that ever existed; they were more alone than any other being.

Like any hell, they developed a tolerance to theirs. Insanity could only last so long, and disappeared even before it came (relatively speaking). They would find a way to save them. No one could ever know.

They had seen every particle of every gust of wind but not one soul. But they saw what the soul could do. Even they couldn’t see all, but they could, through eternities of living eternity, learn all that existed.

One message couldn’t work. They needed to fragment each message and place every nanosecond in its precise place. While people might not understand, a soul could.

A soul could listen for years and speak for many more. They could speak to the Soul of The Earth and, with enough devotion, save the world. They knew how it ended, had seen it infinite times. Through all of time, through their devoted followers, through infinite knowledge, they made a world that would not end; they made a world they could never see.

Just as they had left their universe behind, so it did them. It changed, but theirs never did. They saw the same calamitous fate every time. They saw the recovery of their research. They saw it get discarded until entropy overtook most life. They saw humanity’s last attempt at survival. They saw their mistake repeated with what little remained of the species. They knew the horror, but they could never see it.

Each instant existed by itself right next to all time, but imperceptible to the next. They were trapped in their instant, alone. If they prevented their personal experiment, they stayed in their instant; the instant that they weren’t never happened, so they could never see it.

They spent every eternity constantly trying to undo their mistake, but they could never know if it worked. The moment they interfered, the one they communicated left the timeline their instant existed in. They could do their best to stop as many instances as they could but received no fruit for their labor. They were alone.

They knew everyone that was, is, and will be as they were, are, and will be; nobody can ever know them.

 

[Phoenixsong]

Hey, Choshi! It's been a while since I've read any non-fic, whoops, and this looks short and sweet (...perhaps "sweet" isn't the right word, heh), so I thought I'd drop by and give it a look!

They did it. They devoted their life to science, life, the universe, everything, and finally moved at light’s speed.

Nobody could know.

Off to an ominous start already.

Up to this point, thanks to shoddy experimentation,

The arrogance behind this line, heh. I love it. And yet based on that opening, it seems as though whatever arrogance they felt when assuming other scientists hadn't gone far enough will come back to bite them.

Einstein predicted approaching the speed of light impossible

I think this needs an extra word somewhere, like "approaching the speed of light was impossible".

Like any scientist, they had so concerned themselves with if they could do it that they didn’t once bother to ask if they should. They died the instant they realized their folly. They saw all light, all the universe, all life in the single instant it took light to travel to them. The birth of the first human, the sun, the universe, they saw it all in the instant it took the light to reach them.

Ah. I wonder how literal that "death" is? I mean, I can imagine that traveling at the speed of light would do a number on the human body, but the fact that the protag is still able to think "nobody could know", to be concerned about what their discovery means, makes me curious.

The repetition of "they saw ... all" is a bit close together, I think; you could probably drop "they saw it" from the second instance, have that clause as just "all in the instant it took the light to reach them", and keep things that little bit snappier. (The "it took [the] light to [verb] them" could also be adjusted, but I don't think it needs changing.)

They tried to reach their peers first, but their peers heard nothing but unintelligible noise. Their ghost, their peers called it. They lived in the instant of all time. Days, weeks, years, centuries, eons all came and went in an instant. Every nanosecond of existence happened to them always and forever. They could see love’s first sight, but never take part. They could speak to a friend no more than their friend could hold a conversation with a movie. The movie started and ended the same no matter how much their friend prayed for a new ending. The world started and ended with no regard for their screams.

Ah, yep. Not quite a literal death, but it's completely removed them from their lives all the same, so it might as well be. So much in our (perception of the) world can happen in the time it takes for light to travel, I can absolutely believe that being trapped at light speed would feel like experiencing everything at once, all the time.

Like any hell, they developed a tolerance to theirs. Insanity could only last so long, and disappeared even before it came (relatively speaking). They would find a way to save them. No one could ever know.

God, what an awful thought—a torment that lasts so long that you just... accept it. I'd imagine most perceptions of hell would mean not getting used to it, continuing to suffer forever, but maybe just accepting your suffering as commonplace is worse?

I am slightly thrown by "They would find a way to save them." I assume the second "them" is other people who might one day figure out how to travel at the speed of light? That does get a bit confusing when using they/them as the protag's pronoun... maybe "They would find a way to save the others" or something instead?

---

Overall thoughts:

I admit I've never had much of a head for physics even though I find astronomy and fields like it fascinating, so I'm not sure whether some of the terms (Universal North/South) and the math (C/2, etc.) are actually used or are just made up for effect here, but that doesn't really matter much. They're used matter-of-factly here, just a statement that gets to a point that's still easily understood, and that's a smooth way for a sci-fi-ish story like this to operate.

So many of the lines here are so simple, and yet still evocative. There's a certain punch to even simple statements like

They stepped forward, and mankind leapt back.

and

They were right, and they knew it the moment they leapt into enlightenment.

that I loved.

The repetition of "nobody could know" is also really clever. It's not just that nobody should be allowed to know, that the knowledged the protag gained is too dangerous and should be kept secret; it's that literally nobody can know, because direct communication is impossible, because timelines diverge.

I wonder what the danger they were actually trying to prevent is? As the end of the piece approaches, it seems less and less like it's about the discovery of lightspeed travel and more about something else, given statements like "humanity's last attempt at survival". I don't think we really need to know either way, though. Ultimately the centerpiece here is the protag's frustration and loneliness, and the hope that maybe, even after their mistake, they can make a difference.

A very lovely read; thanks for posting this!