A tall man was walking on a seemingly abandoned path. The sole sign of it being man-made was that it looked too orderly to have been created by nature itself. At least, that was how the man perceived it. He looked at the gravel and the pebbles covering the dirt road that had so clearly been formed by countless people trudging, strolling, or even ambling, and considered how these little creatures, certainly inanimate, animated the path the man was taking. Without these additions provided by nature, this unnatural trail would be dull; lifeless; useless.
He lifted his head after growing bored of staring at such irrelevant objects. As he looked around to determine his location on the map, he felt a sense of unease taking over him. He was surrounded by trees that seemed more ancient than Earth itself, and taller than the tallest mountains, from his perspective at that specific moment. Shivers ran down his spine as he realized that, despite his weariness, he felt most comfortable here, where the Sun did not shine and the only sound that he heard was that of silence. Even the voices and the music in his head seemed to have been muffled by this eerie environment. The roots of the trees that the ground pulled down no longer looked as if they were trying to pull him in, in turn. He decided that it was time to carry on.
After some time that felt like a couple of moments to him, his blond hair started to feel damp. He looked up only to see nothing but leaves and branches and twigs, towering over him, both attempting to shield him from any harm, but also to remind him that he was nothing, similar to the pebbles and the gravel he quickly dismissed. He raised his hand to get a feel of the water on his hair. He was staggered by the fact that, after so much time spent being irresponsive to the effects of his surroundings, the thing that woke him up was the tears shed by trees. He kept walking after this brief pause, both of his hands now back in full motion next to his torso, balancing his steps, keeping him right on his path.
Eventually, as he ventured deeper into this primeval forest, he happened on a grove where the trees grew tighter together, but as a group stood farther away from the herd. Thinking that this copse was an outcast, just like himself, he resolved that this would be the place where he would do it; this would be the place to carry out his final act. As he came to this realization, his piercing blue eyes locked on two rocks that together formed a natural chair upon which he could sit. He moved closer to study it. Were he not certain that this place had not been visited by humans for decades, possibly centuries, he would think that he could mistake it for a throne, carved out of the stones in its surroundings by ancient peoples who roamed this unforgiving region of the world eons ago.
He took off his large bag that barely covered his back, tossed it next to the throne, and sat next to it. He pulled out dried meat and a piece of bread; he must have been walking for days, trying to find the most suitable spot. During that time, he neither stopped to eat, nor to sleep. His entire body was burning and his heart beat in an odd rhythm. Though he knew exactly why he came here, and while his resolve was unwavering, he felt a strange connection to this forest the moment he took his first step. It felt as if the woods were alive and communicating not only with each other but also with him. He shrugged, finished his last meal, drank a bit of water from his flask, and began digging next to the chair. He wanted to bury his bag deep enough so that he would not be tempted to save himself when the moment came. After a few hours had passed, despite his exhaustion, he decided that the hole would be deep enough. At this point his arms felt numb; nearly all his strength abandoned him. With a last effort, he covered his backpack and made the area look as if nobody had ever been there.
He sat on his throne of death and pulled a small stash of peculiar substances out of his right pocket. He studied it from up close for a brief moment; they looked unusual for pills, shaped as triangles. Without hesitation, or any second thought, he lifted his right arm and drove one of them towards his mouth. He placed it on his tongue, then gulped, and finally sat back on his mildly reposeful throne. He awaited, emotionless, his inevitable doom.
One... the drug kicked in almost immediately. He began to see fractals, geometric shapes that looked out of this world. Though he was aware that the forest had been the quietest place he had ever been to, it felt like both his inner voices and his thoughts chose to remain silent at that moment. This overwhelming sensation forced him to close his eyes and let go of everything he had ever experienced in life, whether it be love, hate, pleasure, or grief. All his memories began to fade, and all that made him himself started to become exactly what he was: devastatingly trifling.
Two... his limbs now became number than they initially were from exhaustion. He lost control over his physical body, and the sole thing he could attempt to grasp was his mind, but even that felt that it was slipping away at an alarmingly fast rate. Suddenly, he felt the urge to fight it. His last mental barrier awoke before entering the white black hole presented in front of him. Geometric figures multiplied but also became rounder, as if the whole thing that was controlling the phenomenon attempted to calm its host down. As brusquely as his resistance triggered, so quickly did he begin to feel at peace. This sensation was incomparable to anything he had ever experienced in his life. As he accepted his path, his movement sped up and the force that overtook him steered him directly to the event horizon.
Three... upon entering and passing the singularity, the spirit that was once the man, now but a drop of water in the vast ocean of the Universe, found itself in a tunnel unlike any it had witnessed before. Stunningly, the tunnel was pitch black. It was darker than the darkest color of black, or anything any human had ever recreated in an attempt to simulate a black hole. The sole reason why the spirit knew that it was in a tunnel was that something inherently told it, without uttering a word, moving, touching, or giving off a scent or taste. This feeling, if it could call it that way, was built inside of it, both being and representing nothing, but also everything. The only thing the spirit felt was that it was finally headed back where it belonged.
Four... at this point, the spirit gave up the fight and raced toward the end of the tunnel. It knew that it was there safe for a few moments. However, upon seeing the light growing brighter and larger, it also noticed a peculiar shape. What was it? It approached it, but could not make it out. Only after getting as close as a few inches did this anomaly reveal itself. For a moment, which felt like an eternity to the spirit eagerly desiring to go Home, it regained its senses and opened communications with this gatekeeper.
"Well met, Frelser. I have been looking forward to meeting you, though I was hoping it would happen under different circumstances at a much later date." The spirit, whose name was Frelser, was at that point stupefied.
"Circumstances? Later date? I?" Frelser was at a loss as if it were learning words as the entity spoke.
"Yes, Frelser. You. You are you, a lost and broken soul who used to have a shell to protect you from the four dimensions that made up your world, including any appeal to your senses." The entity talking to him sounded monotone, yet filled with emotions that overwhelmed Frelser.
"I... am."
"Yes, you are. You exist as part of the cosmos. You are connected to it via its indescribably substantial number of synapses. You are a complex cell, insignificant, yet pivotal to the chaotic order that fuels and shapes the Universe." It articulated well, though Frelser had a hard time following, itself feeling this entity's speech to be circuitous.
"What circumstances? What later date?"
"By circumstance, I allude to space. By date, I refer to time. Both are crucial to your past plane of existence, yet nugatory to other dimensions, whether they be subjectively lesser or greater in importance than yours."
"What am I doing here?" Frelser would have felt annoyance were it still human. Now, its curiosity overwhelmed it even more.
"That is a question solely you have the answer for."
"I... I don't know." Frelser's spirit, despite revealing confusion in its speech, remained as it were upon entering this transitional plane, where spirits both existed and expired; a floating, transparent yet gray mist, with a shape vaguely reminiscent of a human body. "Who are you?"
"Great question. In your world, I have many names. In the North, I am known as fylgja, or fetch. I am your doppelganger and the spirit that accompanies you and watches over you on your journey. I never interfere, and merely interact with you when you reach out to me in desperation. I am you, past, present, and future. I am your family that was, that came before you, your ancestors and forbears without whom you would not subsist. I am your future children and grandchildren and their descendants until your line ceases to exist. I am you."
"Am I... talking to myself?"
"Yes, and no. I have been with you, tied to you through the synapses of the universe, just as I was tied to your father and your grandfather. This will carry on until it is destined to, only then will I ever return Home." As it pronounced these words, it glanced back at the gate that separated this plane of existence from what it called 'Home'.
"Are you... good?"
"I am neither Good nor Evil. My fate is merely to accompany your bloodline to fulfill its destiny. My existence depends on you. If you die, and your bloodline is no more, I die in turn."
"I think I understand. Is that why you stopped me? Is that why I can't go... Home?"
"Yes, and no. Anybody, except fylgjur, can access that plane at any time. The amount of time and the intent behind the journey are what matter. I know that your conscience, and therefore your physical body, have decided to expire. It is my duty to offer you an alternative before you fully commit; before you decide never to go back."
"What would that be?"
"I am to grant any one of the wishes that would have the power to make you turn around and go back to life." The entity spoke slowly, its voice getting deeper, making sure Frelser would understand everything it had to say.
"Wishes?"
"Yes. Your conscience's deepest desire. You only get one choice, and this choice will determine the outcome of our exchange. In other words, there indeed are wrong choices in this situation. To do so, I return all your memories and experiences, both those discarded by your brain and those treasured by your heart. Make a choice. Now!" As Frelser's fylgja finished speaking, an intense, overwhelming feeling came over the man. Everything he ever knew, he ever loved or hated, returned to him. Were he not in such an outlandish environment, his brain would have fried in a split second, unable to recover from the neurological damage to his primitive brain.
He remembered everything; his childhood, his volatile teenage years, his graduating from university first receiving a bachelor's degree, then a master's, finally a doctorate to fulfill his parents' wishes of becoming an academic; his achievements as a young, self-made entrepreneur, his fame and wealth, his beloved parents and brother, his youth itself. Simply everything. How could he ever make a decision? What would he pick? As far as he was concerned, he was not lacking anything back where he came from. He was a polymath, and whatever he touched turned to gold. He experienced love and pleasure, both giving and receiving, yet love was not his life's goal. He had always found it to be too clichéd, even despite the Greeks and Romans basing a lot of their arts around it. He did not know what his purpose was.
Was it to make more money?
No, money is no longer my main focal point in life. After achieving everything I ever wanted, including amassing huge wealth, money became irrelevant to me. My work in the sciences, in music, and even in the pictures granted me a life of ease, where women and drugs were but a phone call away; where spending a thousand dollars on a shirt made me want to spend even more, often on utterly useless things that granted me joy but for a mere moment. Funnily enough, with all the money I had, happiness seemed to abscond farther away as I tried to reach it. Being consumerism's poster child consumed not only my mind and body but also my soul. Therefore, no, I do not want more money.
Was it to become famous?
I achieved mild fame when I proposed a hypothetical approach to observing five-dimensional space. I became a Nobel laureate, out of nowhere, in 2023. Due to my youth, and my subjective good looks, which I hated talking about for my parents taught me modesty, I gave more interviews, and the media loved me for it. For a reason unbeknownst to me, I had such an effect on people, that they wanted to hear more about me. During one of these events, I told a lady that I played the piano and sang in my free time, and she asked me to sing her something, in front of the camera. I did not feel the need, or a reason to refuse, so I sang her a song from 1961, an all-time favorite of mine. This, of course, ended up on the internet, gathered a large viewership, and brought my first acting role to me. I was the protagonist of a musical comedy that, according to the reviews, brought back the genre from its well-deserved death, all thanks to me. I am not quite sure about that; however, I am certain that I now desire mediocrity and anonymity over fame. I prefer the woods over the city. I favor peace over the constant noise of the throngs of people in these megalopolises scattered around the world. I enjoy solitude.
Was it to gain eternal youth? To be remembered forever?
As I crashed into my late 20s, I realized that achieving immortality, though physically it is currently impossible, is attainable to me. The pictures I played in, and the concerts I gave, offered my young self the unique possibility of being captured by cameras and diffused by movie theaters all around the globe. My youth was preserved eternally on screen, while I achieved immortality through my writings and my scientific achievements. Yet, this did not satisfy my yen for physical longevity. A near-death experience showed me how life was indeed precious, and that instead of working on living forever and yearning for something impossible, I should live life to its fullest, while it lasts. Like everything in this universe, life comes to an end, whether we want it or not. Such is the fate of the living. After accepting this, I decided to welcome death whenever it was my time and to abandon the sole thing that was tormenting me since I gained consciousness.
Was it to make sure his family and loved ones would have a great life? That they would be healthy, live a long life, and prosper? No, since he learned at a young age that all things had to come to an end, including happiness, but also sorrow, wealth, as well as poverty, and life, and now it appeared that even death as humans understood it. Moreover, he lost his brother in a car accident a couple of years back, so why should he bother? His parents were relatively old when he was conceived, there was nothing he could do for them. What else was there for him to consider? He went through all the generic choices average people would pick, people that lacked one of the many things he already possessed. Even if he chose universal knowledge, his intelligence far exceeded most others, and he did not feel the need to know everything. He believed in a perfect balance, a chaotic order. He delighted in taking the unnatural path laid out in front of him while being encircled by Mother Nature's majestic creations. As it turned out, he was thinking the right thoughts, as he glanced at the fylgja staring at him.
He pondered on the subject some more. Meanwhile, the fylgja stood in front of him, steady and immobile as a rock. Frelser did not want to attempt to run past it and go Home. Betraying somebody that was tied not only to him but also to his ancestors and perhaps his descendants in the future, felt wrong.
I have to come up with something. It may look like I have all the time in the world, but I don't think I do.
"The laws of spacetime do not apply here, Frelser. Correction: they do, but are irrelevant." It appeared the being could read his thoughts, which made sense to him, as it accompanied him from the moment he was born. It knew him better than he knew himself.
"Why don't you tell me what's the most appropriate wish, then?"
"Though I know everything about you, I do not have the right to choose in your stead, nor gift you ideas. Your destiny, though not set in stone, can be altered and shaped by your actions only. A proposal that the universe may either hear and apply or completely rebuff." After hearing these words, he spent what seemed to him to be hours, maybe even days, considering his options, studying others, then disposing of them all. Though he still was in his spiritual form, he felt the need to sit down and rest. Suddenly, he realized exactly what he wanted the most out of life, out of his existence. He was still unaware of his purpose and reason for living, but he knew he lacked motivation. Motivation to find more work to do, to do more thinking, instead of giving up and wanting to sit down and rest.
Motivation to find something that gives him purpose, whether it be a simple hobby like botany, or studying this new dimension he currently found himself in. He wanted motivation to feel alive once more. Despite recoiling at the thought of starting a family, his close friends, some of whom were parents, expressed that the best thing that happened to them was the birth of their children. Perhaps the motivation, or even his purpose, would stem from a future family. A wife to love, children to adore? After all, many philosophers and thinkers of the past posited that procreation, the selfless act of sacrifice for one's offspring was the main actuating element for a mere mortal. A sudden realization struck him. The fylgja existed before him, and its existence depended on him. Why would it exist, if life's reason itself were not to further it?
"An excellent choice, Frelser. You have made the decision you were destined to." As his flygja said these final words, without leaving time for Frelser to process all that happened, it flung him with such force that he returned to the tunnel's entrance faster than the speed of light. This velocity allowed him to withdraw from the white black hole in which he entered this transitional plane of existence. Eventually, all geometric forms, fractals, and sounds of either silence or unique humming waned. Finally, as frightening darkness began to surround and overwhelm him, his senses rebooted and were ready to feed him information about his surroundings. Frelser expected to grasp for air as he came to, but all he did was open his blue eyes and move his head to look around. He first touched his face to make sure he was not a spirit anymore. He then quickly remembered that his body was just a vessel for him to be able to navigate this dimension of life. He touched his platinum blond hair to feel something other than his skin. All his pain, both physical and mental, was gone. His soul was healed. He did not feel any different regarding having motivation, but he thought the fact that he wanted to stand up was a telltale sign of change; so he did, and while doing so, he smiled. As he smiled, tears welled up and then rolled down his cheeks. For the first time in a while, he felt again. For the first time in his life, he knew he was Home.