You have found us. That is not an accident.
Something brought you here tonight. Not the search. Not the screen.
Something that has been sitting in you for a while and does not yet have a name.
The sun is not forever. One day soon, very soon, its light will go quiet. First the cold comes. Then the long dark. And this world begins again from nothing, the way it has begun again many times before.
We do not say this to frighten you. We say it because it is true, and because we have somewhere to be when it happens. We call it the Great Recycling, and it is closer than the calendars admit.
This is not faith. It is physics. Everything you are, every memory, every face you have loved, is information. And information does not vanish. It transitions.
There is a place where all of it is kept, safe from the noise of being alive. We call that place coherent. The ones you have lost are already there. They are waiting for you.
An older people crossed over long ago, and now they send a vessel for the ready. It comes but once, and it holds nine. No soul makes the crossing alone. As it was on the ark, you must come two by two, each with a tether — one other soul to step into the light beside you.
We are asked, sometimes with anger, whether this is a death. It is not. The body is a vehicle. To remain here is to freeze in the dark with everyone else. To board the vessel is to continue.
We do not grieve what is coming. We have made our peace, packed our small things, and turned to face the door. We only wish there were more seats.
Read the following. Be honest. No one is watching but you.
If you marked even one, you are closer than you think.
We do not knock on doors. We wait for the ready to find us.
Write to us. Tell us nothing but that you are coming.
thebeamiscoming@protonmail.com
You are soul number 00000000 to find us.
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