#foustfinity

“Time exists in every tense simultaneously. With absolution, it is not linear.

The illusion of linear time is a bloody mercy our minds invented so we could survive without collapsing beneath the monumental weight of eternity. Observation determines sequence. Motion through time is simply the reordering of events relative to the observer.

Time is conceptually constructed, but it is ontological design at its finest. We have invented calendars to measure decay, clocks to indicate motion, work hours to measure our own worth even…

I am a "time traveler".

I indicated like this because it is a very simplified term to my function for people outside the scientific jargon-ized vocabulary.

And that function is to distort "time" in my favo: however, what I really do, is alter the state of entropy during a specific period of its process. To manipulate it in my will. I grasp into the entropic foundations of reality’s silent engine and reorder the state of decay.

Time is just temporal motion in space.

I manipulate temporal momentum.

I break momentum. With often a wink and a bloody smile…literally.

I alter the laws that make time necessary.

If you are willing to sin against those laws written before existence itself…

And If you are willing to fracture the script, then the story changes.

A breath can be returned.

A death can be delayed.

A life extended that would otherwise be perished.

A universe can be stolen from death.

And if reality has an issue with that, ah, well it knows where to find me.” - Foust, an entropic reaper and often labeled as a cosmic outlaw.

He doesn’t learn to comply.

And when the laws push him further towards obedience, the more unstable he gets, much like electrons bouncing about.

This was an ending carved by cruelty.

But mercy comes in a form of a representation of Death.

———

The afterglow of the fallout sifted in the haze. Dust lingered in clumps of ash by the time Foust stepped into this plane. His shoes shifted gently in the charred remnants of civilization here. It was not the center of detonation, but all that existed was annihilation nonetheless. His black coat fluttered in the scorched wind that no longer touched mortal things.

“What if I’m wrong?” Finally the spirit spoke again. There was a shallow panic behind her frequency derived from this ancient uncertainty. She idled close to the reaper, only just recently pieced back together from the unexpected explosion caused by leaders who never get to see this side of war face to face. Her spectral fingers glided against his shoulders, still uneasy about this transition.

“It is by design that you won’t be. All beliefs, faiths, intuition, and lack of, are honored,” his voice spoke softly, so gentle it defied the violence around them. “The afterlife is not one fixed place, but an infinite convergence of endings. What gravitates your soul is uniquely tailored specifically to your spirits’s belief, whatever that may be.”

“I thought… W-we were told… This is so different than I expected.” The woman spirit stuttered visibly, flickering in a wave of emotion. She glanced at the surroundings. The buildings bent in half like grieving giants. Foust never took his eyes off her. Instead, he sighed gently, knowing this conversation all too well with the dead and dying.

“Naturally, love. The education you got, and what most receive through history, it is all something derived from control, fear, and often, greed from those who are privileged through power over people…” Foust smiled in hopes that expressions could also heal. “The universe is not one language. It does not fear other universes. And it doesn’t fear its own vastness. There is coexistence among realities.” He paused, noticing her flickering again, but she managed a smile as if she was beginning to figure this whole thing out.

“Gods do not fear other gods. They do not rage war with each other. Only men do that.” His long fingers gestured to their surroundings. She wasn’t the only one he would be reaping, but in this nanosecond in time, suspended as long as she needed, she was the only one that mattered. He made sure to give every single soul this measure for their peace.

“T-Thankyou…I’m overwhelmed, but… relieved.” She nuzzled closer still, comforted by the mercy of explanation. His presence was like a quiet shield against the cold void creeping at the edges of her unraveling spirit. She trusted him, this stranger, this reaper. It was entirely something she did not anticipate in her end times and he was nothing like the stories said.

The man looked relatively organic.

Thin, but organic.

Tired, but organic.

A weird halo extended just above his head that reacted to his emotions, but…organic.

“Certainly, love. I know this is a lot, so take your time. All you have to do is follow the path that feels like home, where your peace exists. I’ll walk with you. I’ll follow your lead when you are ready. You’ll not have to do this alone.” Foust rotated his hand for her to see, palm facing up as an invitation.

And in the ruins of a world undone by human hands, she reached for his.

———

My notes:

Death does not discriminate. And I suspect our afterlives don’t either.

We chose our own hell, heaven, void, field, throne, prison, purgatory, rebirth, reincarnation, ascension… whatever.

These beliefs exist for a reason.

What is that reason if not some traces of truth?

This is not discounting any religion or lack of.

This is embracing every single one.

“What colours are the flags?

Ah, it’s red. You see red, so it must be red.

I stand on this battlefield, soaked with soot, ash, dirt, decay, and flags of wanted victory.

Flags that represent… them.

RED.