By
G. F. Smith

“I…I’m not sure why I’m here…”

He was immediately choked for words.

“I…suppose most of us are not sure why we are here.

“Why we found ourselves here…here on this planet, here in
our lives, here in this…in this body we call…us, you…me?”

Daniel squinted at the thoughts coming to his mind; he felt
an odd compulsion. He remembered what the Professor had said, ‘they need to
know the questions…’ He struggled in his mind, but then the words started
pouring out.

“I…I wish I had some answers for you…for me…but I don’t.”

He paused again, considering where he was going with this,
more words came.

“I…I’ve thought about these things all my life. Suddenly, we
were just here…born…alive.

“I don’t remember where I was before I was born.

“Do any of you?

“Do any of you know where you were, before you were
born…before you came to be?

“I don’t!

“So…where did we come from?

“How did our consciousness come into being?

“It’s easy to say—on the surface—that we’re just a product
of DNA, of the traits inherited from our ancestors, or from the experiences
we’ve been through since we were first…subjected to this life.

“But…where were we before that?

“I haven’t been here forever.

“Humanity hasn’t been here forever.

“If we could empirically trace our lineage back to the
beginning, to the first mother and father, the first spark of life—wherever it
came from, however it happened—what would that tell us?

“There was a beginning…wasn’t there?

“Or…was there?

“For some reason I can’t even imagine…a beginning. Wasn’t…wasn’t
there always something there first, before the beginning?

“Something that…made the beginning?

“Or, was there nothing?

“But how could there be nothing?

“And if so, how could something come from…nothing?

“It doesn’t make sense.

“Why would we not know?

“Why would we not know where we came from?” 

He paused for a moment
and held his balled-up right hand to his lips, as if in desperate thought. He
continued. 

“It’s as if we live in a huge box, shrouded on all sides by
a seemingly impenetrable unknown.

“All we seem to know…is a little bit about the past—our
recent history—and perhaps, a few assumptions about the future. Yet, the
farther back we peer into history, or into the distant future, the deeper and
more mysterious the unknown becomes.

“Most of us don’t even understand very much about the
history we do claim to know. How it formed and molded us into the nature we’re
accustomed to. We’re just accustomed to it. We just found ourselves here one
day, born at a certain point in time, from a certain set of parents, in a
certain town, country, culture…a way of life, and we’ve been here ever since.

“And yet, we still don’t really know why?

“Why?” 

He paused again,
turned, and began speaking in the other direction. 

“Most people don’t question this box, its purpose, its
mysterious history, much less the origin or reason for its contents…for us.

“We just exist within it. Deal with it the best we can,
according to our own personal perspectives and preferences, and are rarely
curious about why it is.

“We find ourselves just ignoring those deeper aspects of the
box, because history has, to a high degree, shown, that seeking to understand
it all…is nothing more than an exercise in utter futility and frustration.

“So, for many—for most, perhaps—it just is…because it is…why
do we need to know more?”

It was then that he started seeing individual faces…

 “I…I have seen the
future…as if it were the past!

“I know it is to be one of…dread, one of sorrowful, pitiful
dread for multitudes…,” he added, staring with penetrating eyes…

With a sense of heightened purpose, he trudged on.

“I have seen billions suffering…billions dying…billions
being buried in mass graves because of our ignorance…because of the blind,
self-serving, ignorance that we allow to remain in our hearts and our minds.

“Why do we do this?

“Why…?” 

He paused again…

Daniel turned back to the people.

“Could, perhaps, this lack of knowing the origin of this
box, or what lies beyond its seemingly impenetrable walls…have something to do
with it?

“Could it be that since it was all going on long before we
got here…that we just accepted it, once we found ourselves here…without even
questioning it?

“Do we feel that this lack of understanding somehow
exonerates us from responsibility, from participating…from attempting to change
what we’ve found?

“Is that why many don’t…question?

“Is it because…once we do, we become accountable to the
answer?”

He paused yet again,
feeling an overwhelming lethargic sadness suddenly envelope him. He strained to
continue. 

“Is it so wrong...to question the origin and destiny of the
box…its contents?

“Is it challenging the very Creator…by doing so?

“Are we challenging…God?

 “Yet, isn’t that what
children do…when they approach the age of reason?

“Isn’t this the way it is when children grow up, and it
becomes time to leave the nest…the cave…the box? 

“Is it not within our destiny…to find these things out?

“To learn these things…?

“Is it wrong of us to ask the question…

“Why does God…keep his children…in a box?”

A humble excerpt from Subjected: Parallax

G.
F. Smith