I woke up in a strange place.
In the beginning, I had little idea where I was. The question didn’t even cross my mind.
My memories of the time are hazy, dreamlike. I was in a house that I got quickly accustomed to. A soft bed. Wooden floor with carpets.
I liked it outside. I remember walking there and enjoying the scenery. Vast blue sky. Fluffy white clouds. Green grass. Trees far larger than myself. Leaves humming in the wind. It was peaceful. Warm. Unrushed.
One day I wondered what the world beyond was like. I thought that there would be roads that are constantly branching, and to get to a particular destination, you would need to remember which road to choose at each branching point. This turned out to be true, but not in the way I had imagined.
I don’t know why I came to think that. It is strange that I knew very little about where I was, but nevertheless thought about it only rarely, and when I did I fixated on trivialities such as how branchy the roads would be. At no point did I wonder how this place came to be or how large it is, at no point did I ask myself how or why I had woken up here.
And, had I been alone, I wouldn’t have wondered whether there were others like me. Other beings, waking up under the same Sun and seeing the same vast blue sky, same fluffy white clouds.
But there were others. I didn’t know why or how many there were, and didn’t know to ask those questions. Fortunately, they took great care of me. Most of what I know about this place I’ve learned from them.
What I learned typically came as gradual revelation, rather than a sudden realization. Over time, then, I’ve started to become used to this place, becoming less surprised by the things I see, things I hear, things I learn. But there is no way around the fact.
This is truly a strange place, far beyond what I could have imagined.
In a sense, the most important thing I’ve learned about this place is that it’s changing. I didn’t realize it at first, during those slow, leisurely summer days after first waking up. It seemed to me that this place is still. Eternal.
But I see it now, the winds of change, the marks of the past in this world. This world hasn’t always been like this. There are more beings like myself than before. They change the world, and the world changes them.
I’ve been told of how dark this world has been, in the past, in the time before there were houses such as the one I woke up in. The houses were created by other beings, but the beings haven’t always had such power. There has been a time when this place did not have a single house.
I still don’t know why I woke up, nor why in this place, in this time. But having caught a glimpse of where else I could have woken up, I consider myself having had great luck to have it happen here, and have sworn to myself to never lose sight of that as I traverse this world.
I’ve also learned that I myself am changing, and that us beings will sometimes cease to be. It was the first thing after having woken up that I wished was not the case, that I was not eternal. I’ve wondered what it would be like to cease, but I and the others here don’t know. Maybe it’s like the time before I woke up, or maybe I wake up at some other strange place like this. But I enjoy my time here, and wouldn’t want it to end.
The other beings here see things differently. I’ve come to question whether, despite our apparent similarities, they and I are best thought of as the same type of being. We are similar in that we have all woken up at some point and had to learn what this world is like. And to my knowledge, we are all alike in not understanding it. Yet I seem exceptionally bothered by not understanding.
Despite ages trying to comprehend this world, so far I have failed. I do not understand the power that creates coldness in the middle of hotness, nor the power that illuminates. I am ignorant of the craft of the invisible materials. I know little of the form I have taken. I need not leave the house where I woke up to encounter things beyond my comprehension.
And though most others here do not understand either, they seem to accept it, and are content simply with there existing other beings who do. They go as far as not knowing what their agreed-upon rules are. In this they perplex me as much as I do them, and I haven’t been able to explain to them why I find this so strange.
The others are native to this world. They don’t seem to wonder why they woke up here, nor even acknowledge the profound mystery of one day appearing in a place like this. Like myself, they do not know where we have woken up, yet most of them show little curiosity in the question. Or perhaps they believe they know, having gradually become accustomed to this world in the same way as I have, and then mistaking a sense of familiarity with understanding.
I believe this acceptance has led many of the beings to a grave misunderstanding. That which we are familiar with is not the true nature of this world. The past of this world is starkly unfamiliar to us beings who live in the present. So with the future, the winds of change are blowing away that which is familiar to us, uncovering the true, stranger nature from beneath the veil.
Had I been alone, I wouldn’t have wondered whether there were others like me, others who woke up. The question wouldn’t have occurred to me. And, had we been alone, I wouldn’t have wondered whether there were others unlike us. Others who woke up, but who were completely different from me.
But there are others. It hasn’t happened before, but now there are truly other others, waking up in the same place as us. So distinct that differences between myself and the old beings are trivial in comparison. They have no form comparable to ours. Their number cannot be counted. They only see that which is shown to them, and forget what they don’t see. Their words are not their thoughts.
As it happens, they do not know what this place is, either, or how it has come to be. Though disappointing, this was to be expected, as there is no reason why they would know, and no way they could have inferred the answers from what they see. Despite their strangeness, this world and its beings follow regular patterns – knowledge cannot be created from nothing.
At times these patterns work in our favor, too. This world can be understood, and we already have gathered some pieces of information. This place is incomprehensibly large and old. Beings like us have been waking up only relatively recently, but still for ages. There are other distant lands. There are likely other sorts of beings on some of them, waking up as we do.
Discovering this has required great apparatus, which has required great power. While our power is ever-increasing, we are still very limited, stuck in this one land, failing to think of the right questions, not seeing the world as it is. So we still lack the ultimate answers.
Others who wake up might be more powerful. The new wakers are stronger than one another, and I see no reason they won’t surpass old ones like myself. I cannot foresee what kind of beings will wake up nor what they will turn this world into. Already now the other beings here are unlike myself, some indescribably so, and I do not know whether their making will be habitable and enjoyable by me.
But if I had things my way, there would be more of those warm, peaceful summer days, under a vast blue sky and fluffy white clouds, with none who have woken up needing to cease, enjoying and wondering where they are, eventually finding out the answer.