A Voyage in Time
The most astute among them noticed right away that their skins had dissolved way beyond their natural oil realms, some had disintegrated into the air, some had melted like ice, and some had simply wiped themselves off as a fly on a slimy windshield. By the time they had woken up, only three of them remained conscious enough to feel pain, three of them were not conscious enough, and never will be, to understand what was going on, and the other three had died of shock and interdimensionality.
One by one they realized that their movements were only aligned with the steps they had done before and the ones they were going to do after. Their only frame of reference was a giant screen above them where they saw every single occasion in life, and not only human life, happening all at once, an infinite screen where they, with newly acquired infinite eyes, could gaze upon and influence as they so desire. This discovery happened when someone cried rivers at the prospect of being unloved, and an entire village was struck with a flood. They looked in wonder as their voices and calls for help and warnings were instead replaced in the physical world by things that were so easily ignored: howls of the wind, strange movements in clouds, continuous erosion of lands, among many others.
And though it was fun at first, little by little they realized the power of their predicament. The terrain in which they had found themselves gazing up from was an irrational mishmash of deviations of both mind and spirit, a series of symbols that no one understood, a series of sounds that seemed to have meaning in the loosest sense, and constant yammering of a knife moving in circles trying to cut them. It got one of them when everyone slept, and someone stood up, the blade went through, and blood was spilled and a world got to the wonder at the strange smell of iron that filled the air all of a sudden. The body there remained and though it was cried and mourned, it never decomposed nor did it stagnate, instead it continued to influence events by its unbodily actions.
The world dreamt upon was of no interest to the people who supervised it and had to maintain it. Often they talked about how wonderful it would be to just let it be and rot, but every single sigh, every single aside glance, even the very nothingness of not moving and staying absolutely still was met with changes in the physical world that they could not predict. They eventually became convinced that there were stronger forces at play that they did not want to confront and since they couldn’t die, and couldn’t get out, they had to accept their prison as a reward and punishment.
“We should go there,” a voice said one and many instants. “Go there ourselves and change it with all of our knowledge, avoid catastrophes, help the world before it consumes itself by its idiocy.”
But even though they had constructed a door in which they could very well do that, they never used it. Many reasons were given between them for their lack of meddling and, after a while, it became embarrassing trying to excuse each other over what they were not doing, so they decided to let the topic go. Knowing everyone and everything, they reasoned within themselves, was not enough to change any world for the better.
“There we are,” a voice said one moment and they saw themselves in the tormented peril that had killed them all and sent them here and they all hung their heads in shame as a shadow of themselves appeared together, an entity feeding on with itself, chewing time passively, and they all stared into their own eyes, with all existence sucked out of them.