When he was asked to dissect the Specimen, he hesitated, or felt what he believed to be a slight apprehension given his obvious position of power; standing above her white silk dress clenching a fork and knife in each hand. She had settled in only moments earlier against the wooden panel boards anticipating the consummation of her livelihood. For a moment, the Specimen squirmed and he noticed a smile on her face appear as she settled in to the ground and accepted the oncoming cutlery. She knew after this, as the Specimen, she would be forever transformed; no longer that unscathed and precious container of organ tissue and neuropaths. He, on the other hand, was merely participating and had no inclination that gravity and time were planning a coup on his conceptualization of the two forces of nature and imagination, respectively.
He acquired the tools from the Specimen's companion and knelt down. The descent was prolonged in his mind, and the Specimen didn't appear any larger at first. He blinked and was soon staring right in to the Specimen's brown eyes, and they twinkled back; she was petrified. He dug the fork into her thigh and pulled back with the knife. He worked his way up the Specimen's body, past her vagina, her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck, where he looked at the Specimens lips and noticed it quiver in confusion. He took a few bites from the fork with her meat and swallowed; she stared at his adam's apple as it ascended and descended with each quaff of the Specimen's blood stained blouse and supple flesh.
Imagine a montage of photographs, explaining a story with time-lapse, where every next frame is an irregular jump in time ahead of the frame you previously experienced. Imagine holding those frames as printed images, in your hand, and flipping through them at your own will, on your own time. It is foreseeable that you could spend the rest of your life cycling through those images but do you ever watch your favourite movie on repeat? If it cost you only thirty seconds of actual time to watch that montage or film as much as you'd like, would you indulge? Would you fear the complexities of aging in this time frame? Would you embellish the legitimacy and power of imagination within each photograph? Or would you collect only sequences of frames you particularly cherished? Would you prefer to throw them in some digital box, and be able to revisit each of those moments again? Would you cultivate a new understanding and emerge from that thirty second time frame with explosive amounts of knowledge, wisdom, understanding; previously nonexistent?
He helped the Specimen up with one hand and proceeded back to his seat, where from afar, the Specimen continually reassured herself of his proximity; as if bound and dependent. He stole glances of her profile from time to time for the rest of his life, to date. He realized that that experiment, in the lab, and that thirty seconds with the specimen, would have lasted an eternity in its own right, being frozen in his memory. Every new moment would have been another layer or sequence of photographs to add to the big box of time and space; an alter reality where the only things that exist are them and the world. It would be a physical manifestation of their bond, and their idea of the world; yesterday's souls in the world of tomorrow.
If you could understand that transformation and the weight of your brain matter increasing at a phenomenal rate after a 30 second period of mental stagnation and physical unawareness, you are propelled back into the world you were first born as a new specimen, bound by the mitosis between two hearts and the brains that power them. When you emerge, no one will know you had left. For everyone, nothing will change, but for you, it will all look different.
No one will know the wiser, because the universe is good at keeping secrets.
Are you?
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