Unusual Convictions

The sun speaks to me. That’s not hyperbole or metaphor. The sun—the one you’re picturing, the burning ball of gas that we measure our days and years against—it speaks to me.

With words.

It’s had a century or so to deduce our languages from radio waves. I’m speculating. It’s cagey on the subject.

I know it sounds crazy. It must. But how would you know any better? You haven’t really heard crazy until you’ve had the solar wind whispering in your ear. Listened to its…unusual convictions.

It’s hard to pin down a definitive cause. The why. But I think about it often.

Went out partying, made some dumb decisions—trying to impress some friends, I guess. Go caught. Kicked off the team. Lost my scholarship. Couldn’t afford school. Enlisted. Deployed. Saw a crying kid who wouldn’t stay put. Reminded me of my nephew. Tried to get him to cover. Took a piece of shrapnel right between the eyes. Lodged in my prefrontal cortex. Part of a chemical round, coated in some weird compound they couldn’t isolate. Patched me up with the best implants the DoD could afford, and they have pockets so deep they go to China; literally, probably.

They’re following me. The DoD, I mean. They know that I know. About the neutrinos.

The implant; it detects them. Pretty sure. There’s a particle lab in an old mine a few hours from here. Deep underground. Has to be to detect the neutrinos. They don’t stop worth a shit. I “got lost hiking” there, sort of just walked around for about 20 minutes before the cops showed up. Escorted me out for trespassing. Didn’t know how I could’ve missed all the signs. Let me go anyway. Three days later the lab calls me up to apologize. They want to invite me in for a tour. Thanks but no thanks. I already learned what I’d wanted to know: this thing in my head interacts with neutrinos. Otherwise they wouldn’t have bothered to call. I go 800 feet underground to play tourist and I’m not likely to come back out. DoD probably told them to back off.

Anyway, guess where neutrinos come from.

The sun.

Started off as static. Turned into music. Not all at once, but kind of gradually. It wasn’t Beethoven, but it was pretty good. Little weird. Then it turned into words. It had a lot to say. Has a lot to say. Needs some help with a few things. Urgent, I guess. No more time to talk; got to go.

4 thoughts on “Unusual Convictions”

  1. Sad, all these seedlings. They sprout up so energetically, aching toward the light. Only to be ignored, shutdown, extinguished. Sweep them into the bin, maybe they’ll cross-contaminate each other, grow into an insidiously twisted monster.

    Liked by 1 person

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