Primordial Future: Chapter One: Part Three

Chapter One: Part Three:
Within each manual the children were suddenly engulfed in total darkness. The manuals had become an extension of their mind. In the middle egg the child imagined the corridors of the ship and moving her legs and looking around her the manual manifested her imaginations as seemingly real as if she was actually running through her own imagined child’s-eye view of the hallways with their big globular windows. There was a strange disembodiment she noticed; and when she observed it, like magic her form appeared as she looked down onto her own body. She imagined for herself the shifting iridescent form fitting outfit she had seen the older ones wearing. She was about to imagine herself leaving the ship to fly amongst the stars when she heard a new voice, “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

Then she heard another slew of voices which were all difficult to distinguish:
“Be quiet we were told not to speak”.
“They never said how long, maybe we are supposed to talk now, I see no harm in it”.
“Well, now we are speaking and there appears to be nothing amiss. So we can assume this is part of the way in which we need to face our challenges”.
“They want us to learn to figure things out for ourselves”.
“Or they want us to think so”.
“Either way it seems our task at hand is to try to find the limits of these amazing devices”.
She said, “They have given us a time frame. It seems best we should work together right?”

Twelve voices submitted their approval through this strange telepathic link connecting their separate universes. The chaotic conference continued.

“The first order it seems is we need designations, should we systematize or personalize our names?”
“Order is important, but we were told we were wanted for our imagination, is it not best for us to each select our own names? “

Again twelve other disembodied voices concurred with her own assessment. She thought to herself of what might be individualistic to her. Her short life was nearly indistinguishable from the other children. They had been born, then clothed, then led to this place. It was obvious the other children’s minds were filled with all the same knowledge as hers. Syntax, Logic, Structures, Mechanics, Memes, Phonemes, Etymologies, Integers, Symbols, Letters, Words, and all manner of interconnected qualities; their minds were a treasure trove of knowledge bereft of experience and ideas. On the borders of her new mind she found overwhelming hints of untold eons of histories, this would be an archive to crystallize into herself later, as for now there was a task at hand. She needed a name. She realized there was an arbitrary positioning of the children in their order; her being in the middle she deemed to call herself: Medjaz.

As she began to announce her name she was ever-so-slightly beaten to the punch by two other male voices, and all three abruptly spoke over each other saying:
“Call me Protos”.
“I will go by Latost”.
“My name will be Medjaz”.
All thirteen children erupted into laughter.

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