No Body is Here

It exists.

In a place that can't quite be called a place. It's neither here nor there, because there is no here. And there is no there. It's just... It. Floating, maybe? But there's nothing to float in. It has no shape, no form, no substance. It simply... is.

In a void. Yes, a void, though that word almost suggests more than this place has to offer. A void is often imagined as something vast and empty, perhaps dark, perhaps cold. But this is not dark. It is not cold. It is also not warm, or light, or anything, really. There is no heat here, because heat implies the existence of atoms, tiny particles zipping around with energy. But there are no atoms. No particles. Not a speck of dust. Not a gas molecule. Not even the smallest quantum fluctuation.

This void is not the kind that fills you with a sense of isolation or dread. It simply is what it is: nothing.

It doesn't even know it's in a void. Or that it's not. It doesn't have that level of consciousness, that awareness that something could be different, because how could it know that? There's no comparison point. There's nothing to say, "This could be different." Because how could it know different from what? So it doesn't think about it. It can't think about it.

There is no time. There isn't even the concept of time. Seconds, minutes, hours – those all depend on something happening. They depend on movement. And there is no movement here. No ticking clock, no shifting atoms, not even the vibration of a single photon because, again, there's nothing here. Nothing that exists needs to be measured.

Still, somehow, it is aware. Maybe not consciously, not in the way that you or I might be. But there's something. A slight hum, perhaps, in the back of a mind that doesn't quite have a brain. A sort of knowing without knowing, like when you wake up in the middle of the night and you're not sure if you've really opened your eyes yet, or if you're still dreaming. Except there's no sleep here. No dreams. No waking up.

But then again, maybe it's a little like that. A sort of in-between state where nothing much happens, but there's a vague sense of something existing– or rather, a vague sense of being the thing that exists.

Not that It knows it's It, of course. Names are for things with a bit more substance, more complexity. Things with identities, personalities, and maybe a few quirks. But It doesn't have those. It doesn't even have the concept of those. After all, why would it need them? Who would it be quirky for? 

So it just is. And it's not unhappy about that. But it's not happy, either. Emotions are another thing It doesn't quite grasp. Those require a certain level of chemical interaction, and chemicals are made of atoms, and atoms – well, we've already established the absence of those, haven't we?

If there were emotions here, though, maybe It would be curious. Or amused. Because it's an odd situation, really, existing in a place where existence barely even registers.

At some point – though "point" is misleading since there's no time – there's a faint, fleeting awareness. A sort of realization that something might be different now. But then again, maybe it isn't.

This lack of time means there's no waiting, no anticipation. It doesn't think, "When will something happen?" because that would imply a past, present, and future. There's no linearity here. There's not even a line. Just... being. In all directions, if directions existed.

The void is all-encompassing. Not like it's closing in, because that would suggest a pressure, a force. And there are no forces. No gravity to pull, no electromagnetism to bind, no weak or strong nuclear forces to hold things together or pull them apart. There's not even the absence of these things, because an absence implies that something was there to begin with.

So the void is not closing in. It just is, in every non-direction, in a non-pressing, non-existing way.

And still, it remains. Not that there's a choice, because choice is another concept It doesn't possess. Choices require options, alternatives, and that implies a complexity that simply isn't available here.

There's no frustration, either, which is fortunate. If It had the capacity for frustration, It might wonder why things weren't happening. Or why they were. It's hard to tell.

Just... existence.

Still.

Just as it always has, in this void of no-places and non-times. But now – though "now" is misleading because there is no time here – something different is happening. It doesn't know it's different, of course. How could it? But there's a subtle shift, something beyond the simple existence that it has always been.

A color appears. At first, just a speck. A minuscule point of something that is not nothing. A pinprick of – well, not light exactly, because light requires photons, and there are no photons here. But it's something perceptible, something that wasn't there before.

The color is hard to define. It's not one of the usual shades that we'd recognize – not red, not blue, not green. It's something else entirely, a hue that doesn't fit into the spectrum of known colors, because there is no spectrum here. But there's a quality to it that suggests a sort of vibrancy, a lively energy, even though there's no energy in the void.

And it's growing. Slowly at first, almost imperceptibly, but definitely growing. The tiny speck expands, becoming more than just a point. It stretches outward, expanding into a strange, abstract shape. A blob, if you will, though that doesn't quite do it justice. It's not a perfect sphere or anything as mundane as that. No, this shape is irregular, constantly shifting, pressing outward and then drawing back in on itself, compressing and decompressing in a way that seems almost... alive.

But it's not alive. Not in any way that we understand life. There's no biology here, no cells or metabolism. Just... form. An abstract, formless form that continues to grow and change. It's as though the void itself is trying to figure out what it wants to be, though of course, the void has no will, no desire. It just... is. And now, this shape is too.