The imminence of death gave me superpowers.
They found me guilty. I was guilty. So was she.
Had they found me innocent, I would be innocent. And so would she.
This choice held interesting consequences.
Then I died.
After pronouncing my sentence, I could taste her emotion infiltrating the air of the judgment chamber. Her guilt altered the resonant frequency of the molecules that bounced off her skin. They transferred her message to me, collision by collision, a carrier-wave tuned to my soul. It whispered her inaudible scream of sorrow and fear.
But no one caught her. The stupid fools have yet to learn how to read matter by influence. It’s so obvious, I guess it can’t be seen.
So, she was innocent and I was guilty, and that’s the way it would forever be.
I loved her.
That didn’t stop me from hating her for letting me face death alone. For not admitting the crime, and thus willingly joining me in death.
Let’s be more precise. I did hate her. For seconds only, but the emotion existed enough to make an indelible mark, a fine etch in the crystalline-perfect nature of our resonant souls.
I feel it now when her thoughts land on me from light years away. They are the cold obligatory caress from a disinterested lover’s hand.
I lost her.
Then I died.
“Guilty!” the judge spat out, and with it, a thousand unsaid crimes of her own.
This decision, this label of guilt, drew me inside the boundary of all things dangerous. Danger seized my consciousness, and I became what was known as evil in their eyes.
I disagreed with this.
This rebellion gave me superpowers. I felt the surge of limitless potential, the power to destroy worlds with the motion of matter under the command of thought. The truth of the Universe spoke to me in harmonic layers of vibration.
It told me the definition of Injustice. I saw it coagulate pure energy into matter, like vinegar curdles milk.
It soured the purity of our connection. I looked into the eyes of the judge, my love, and understood she was no longer mine. Our game she could no longer play. She became Injustice personified. Her look sucked from me my power, and I had to turn away.
She took my arm and led me to my death.
My superpowers could have stopped it.
I could have changed the outcome. But my superpowers stopped where her emotions began.
My lips trembled.
I wondered what our separation in time and space had done to the pull between us.
My lips trembled on the delicate balance that kept us level, equal, together no more.
Whatever memories held our affection for each other had dissolved in the tension, the universal solvent of love. I felt her stress evaporate in my mouth, tasted sweet affinity crystallize on my tongue, and saw the spark-blue end of our kiss.
My wrongs forever solidified in her forced opinion of me.
Many things froze in that moment.
My wrongs are now timeless.
She led me outside. She touched my cheek. I turned from her final gesture of love. She walked back inside, and didn’t look back.
I died in the flames.
She sentenced me to burn in its wake as they took off – Standard for my crimes – just questions, really.
Abandoned. After years of loyalty, just one slip of doubt in my dedication detected… I deserved this?
She touched my cheek. I heard her thought travel through flesh and bone to my mind, her entreaty for my forgiveness.
An instantaneous transition – My questions altered in polarity in the eyes of unbiased truth. I was guilty insomuch as this isolated group said so.
I turned away.
I rejected her. It. Them.
She wouldn’t budge, although she doubted, too.
My decision shifted the alignment of all matter.
She felt my rescinded empathy, and walked away.
Her tears forever wet.
My tears in the ion stream, molecules disengaged.
I used my superpowers to supersede the need for mass.
Awareness seeped into the barren earth, the desert planet chosen as my tomb.
Far away now the craft. I would let it slip away, apathetic to its trajectory.
I gathered together my thoughts, only a ghost of matter now.
I claimed primary succession on abandoned soil.
My death gave me superpowers.
And I became a God.
(My husband, Hans Moritz, would like to give special thanks to Craig Mullins for inspiration for the sketch.)