The Spinning Machine
By Garret Rhea
And with that, he was off, zooming across the universe. His spinning time defying device would allow him to travel indefinitely without aging. The spinning provided perpetual motion from the stored energy it gained from using magnets when passing through gravitational and electrical fields. He was standing alone, inside a capsule built for two, spinning his way towards the edge of the universe, burning with desire to stand face to face with his creator. His cubic vessel was smaller than most earth cars in that day, and compact enough to pass under most interstellar spaceship’s radars as nothing more than a piece of space garbage. In this way he traveled for 5 billion years, all the while trying to catch up on his reading, and never seeming to make any headway. On the final day of the 5 billionth year, the man decided he had had enough. Rather than deciding to turn around, which was much more difficult than you’d expect, he decided to push the spinning device up to maximum power, and further if he could. And with this decision, he sealed his fate. He was to meet his maker.
He thrust the throttle to full position, and the whirring that had been his melody for 5 billion years grew deafening, and the inside of the vessel warmed immediately. The ship exploded forward, then seemed to hardly move at all. He gazed around him and found that nothing seemed to be moving at all. The stars that had been previously streaking past in a sea of white lines were now standing still, as white dots bearing witness to his new motionless state. Checking the gauges he found that they were indeed sitting perfectly still. And then, as though by magic, he realized exactly what was happening just an instant before the shift occurred. The machine was gearing it’s energy towards another kind of travel, that which covered great distances without ever moving an inch. The machine opened a wormhole right in front of his eyes. Through streaking green and silver, melting into a puddle of color, he could see through to another place and time, and he had no control anymore. The ship hurtled through the opening, or rather, the opening swallowed the ship.
And with that, he found himself on the floor of a room, gigantic and warm, with old sofas and a fireplace in the corner, lit and healthy with flame that cast a dim orange glow. He rose to his feet, surprised to find both the absence of his ship, and the 3 old women working busily away, all knitting the same quilt. They were gathered around in a triangle, all facing each other, busily working, their fingers emitting a white glow over the quilt, seeming to bring it to life. When he inched close, he was taken back, aghast. For the patterns they were quilting were none other than the infinite latticework patterns of our universe. The galaxies were all present, growing and moving, earth was in its place, though he couldn’t see it, and all the while they were knitting, giving life, and taking it away. He realized with a sense of melancholy, that he had reached his goal, his creators sat before him, still busily at work.
Short story of a man on a mission to understand himself.