Birthday

What does it mean to live? Who or what gives it meaning? Is it something that must be pursued? Taken? Given? What is the definition of meaning in this case? Why must a life mean anything? Is that a “want” we’re born with? Is that how an “individual” is formed? Is it in that pursuit that the Id and ego are formed, or has it already been formed? Could it be half formed? Does this “want” become a “need”? Is the want to become “individual” necessary? What components become this “Individual”? Is just breathing considered enough to be alive?

What does it mean to die? If all of the “individual” were stripped away and nothing remained but the intake and outtake of air, is the “individual” still alive? Are they still a unique being? If they no longer “want” are they alive? If the ego is satisfied, is that death? If the “individual” is incapable of satisfying it’s “want”, is that death?

As I come into this world, I am overtaken by a powerful fixation: “Want”. “Want” to breathe. “Want” to feel. “Want” to move. “Want” to consume. It is a directionless fixation, one that overtakes my entire being. It is all that I am. At the start I am directionless and focused. It is a contradiction; one that can only be described by a single word: Greed.

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“You have been born. I welcome you to the Oasis. Now, rise.”

I could feel shifting sand beneath my feet and between my fingers. Every sensation was all at once familiar, different, unsettling, and natural. I lifted my head out of the sand. I had been laying sideways, apparently half buried. I righted myself. The sand fell from my eyes as I open them.

There’s dark blue sky above and a large globe visible floating just outside it. I am surrounded by desert. Ten pillars surround myself and three, no, five others. An older being with a white beard and hair with black stripes running through it stands over me. He looks different from the others.

“Please, stand, my child.” The bearded being beckoned me.

I lean forward, placing my long claw like fingers in front of me. I move my long, grey, bony legs underneath me and push myself unsteadily up. The sand is not stable ground but the curved talons that are my toes dig into the sand and keep me upright.

“Very good, you appear sentient and of sound mind.”

Just as he said that a scream pierced the air to our right. I calmly turn my head toward the noise.

A grey being with a thin elongated skeletal body and long claws for hands and feet wrestled itself out of the sand, slashing every which way. There were other similar looking beings surrounding it. The being bolts straight for the one in front of it, claws waving around in a frenzy.

The being makes contact but is unable to touch it’s target; an invisible wall prevents it. It pulses with each hit but doesn’t break. The attacker screams in frustration. The target looks over at the grey haired being who nods in response.

The shield drops as the attacker brings it’s claws down. The prey slips underneath the attackers arm and elbows it pushing it backwards then brings it’s own claws across the attackers stomach slashing it open. It then sprints at full speed at the attacker. The attacker has enough time to slash diagonally but the prey, now hunter, comes in low and tackles the attacker to the ground.

The other two beings quickly come to the hunter’s aid and hold the attacker down as it thrashes about. The hunter quickly stick a claw through the attackers chest and brain. The attacker stops moving. It appears to be no longer alive. Was it alive to begin with? Did it want something? These felt like unusual questions to have, perhaps it’s something akin to sympathy. Or perhaps it’s simply an extension of a new want: understanding.

The beings pull the body apart and rebury it in the sand. I am one of those beings. This white haired being is not. He notices me staring.

“Not every birth is successful, unfortunately.” He seems genuinely mournful.

The three beings return to Grey’s side, “Let’s head home, everyone. I’ll explain everything you need to know once we get you fitted with a voice box. Is that alright with you. Move your head up and down to acknowledge your agreement.” I nodded.

“Very good.” He turns around and begins walking away. A strange black table shaped like a spine floats behind the man as he walks. The four of us fall into procession.

Why follow? It is simply a “want” for knowledge. Why have I been born? What am I? What is my purpose? Who are these beings? Where am I? I gain nothing by disobeying or going off on my own. It would be a failure to satisfy a want. I want to know more and Grey wants to tell me, so I follow. And we walk onward toward the answers I seek.