Abiotic Dispersal

It’s windy. I’m falling. And it is dark. I look around and see the sky above. The sun is rising. Turning, I see the town below, nestled comfortably in the mountains. I see wooden houses, long winding roads, and sprawling parks. Smoke rises from the chimneys. How cozy, I think to myself. I wonder if I can speak. I’ll try.

“Hello,”

My voice is muffled by the wind.

“Hello!” the shiny bird above me smiles,

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“That’s a lot of questions, isn’t it?”

The bird moves away from me, farther and farther. As I fall, he soars. He is all I know, but I do not even know him.

“Who are you?” I ask again,

“I am an airplane,” he struts proudly, showing off his freedom of movement,

“It’s hard to hear you,” I say,

“It will only get harder,” his voice fades,

“Will I be on the ground soon?”

“Oh, no, I doubt you’ll ever reach the ground,”

“I’ll fall forever?”

“You’ll fall for as long as your forever is meant to be,”

“And where will you go?” I ask,

“Back to my aerodrome I suppose,”

The sun reflects off the shiny skin of the plane. His silver carapace turns the harsh yellow of my new reality into a rainbow of new sensations arching across the blue canvas of the sky. For a moment, he is beautiful. His beauty lingers, but fades when I remember I am falling to the town below. Why can’t I fly like him? That isn’t fair, is it? I don’t like this feeling in my stomach. Is it vertigo? Or is it jealousy? Soon he will be too far away to hear me and I will be alone. I am afraid of being alone, though I have never been alone before.

“You are moving very fast,” he heads toward the sea, without me,

“I suppose I am,”

“You seem sad,”

“I don’t know sad. I don’t know happy either,”

“What do you know?”

“Falling,”

“Anything else?”

“I am jealous,”

“Of?”

“You!” I whistle through the air, there are sirens below, “You make rainbows and fly far above the world! You can see everything! Know everything! I’ve only just woken up and all I can do is fall,”

“But soon you’ll be a beautiful flower,” his voice is gentle,

“A flower?”

“A wreath of warmth that shines my belly and turns night into darkness,”

“I’ll be a wreath? I don’t understand,”

He says something, but I cannot hear him, he has moved too far away from me. My stomach drops. I am alone, I do not want to be alone. I shout,

“I didn’t hear you!”

Silence, and then,

“Sorry!” his voice pierces the muffling torrent of air, “I’ll speak louder,”

“How are you sure I will become a flower?” I feel like I will cry,

“Because I have seen it before. I am a bird who drops seeds which bloom into the most magnificent flowers. My seeds fill the gardens of the Earth with light! Atoms zooming! Rising! Reaching!”

“Will I be beautiful?” I almost stutter,

“You will be,”

“Then what will happen?”

“You will fade, as all things do,”

“Oh,” my heart breaks,

“But you will be remembered,”

“I will?”

“You will be the flower that shakes the Earth. Nothing will ever be the same after we part ways,”

“But you are so beautiful and you will go on without me,”

“I’m flattered, but you are the one they will remember. I’ll fade to the annals of history and you will never fade,”

“But you just said that I would,”

“Your flower, your body, this moment, they will fade, but what you meant, what you will mean, will never go away,”

“I sound important!” I beamed,

“You are,”

“You’ve gone very far away,” I squint,

“Yes, I can barely see you now,” his voice strains,

“I’m afraid to be alone,” I admit,

“What’s to be afraid of? I am always alone, soaring above the clouds,”

“I don’t know what it means to be alone, I supposed that’s why I’m afraid,”

“To be alone is to be with yourself,”

And then he is gone. The silver bird fades into the background, disappearing into fluffy white clouds and I am alone. For the first and for the last time, I am alone. I spin as I tumble through the air. The wind is cold against me. I look at the town below where I will soon be planted. I will never know this town, its people, its streets, but I will be part of it forever. At least that is what the bird claimed. I wonder what they will think of me, if I will be as beautiful as the plane said.

I see people coming out of their houses, people on their way to work, children playing in a park. A few look up at me and squint. The sirens are loud. Trumpets for my arrival. Perhaps I really am important. More people look up, but even more ignore me. Maybe these trumpets are normal here. I wonder what other kinds of music these people like. If I am lucky, I will hear some more of it before I bloom.

“Hello,” I try to say, but they are still too far off to hear me,

To be alone is to be with yourself, the plane said. I am alone, but who am I? I feel something drop in my stomach, but it is not the same as before, it is not the drop of vertigo or jealousy, nor is it even the drop of anxiety or fear. It is simply a drop. A mechanism within. Maybe it is the seed of the flower. I am like the shell of a nut. I understand that now. My purpose is to protect the seed inside.

The air around me becomes hot. I wonder how long I have been falling. It is only a few moments, but it is my forever. My forever, a scant few seconds of falling, but I have felt so much. I have been afraid, I have been jealous, I have seen beautiful things, and I think I am happy. Just above the city, I burst. There is a white light and my flower blooms. I do not see the town, it is too bright. My forever is over. The bird has flown away and so has the town.

In an instant, I am gone, replaced by rising flames, a burning wreath, an atomic flower. I am gone. But I have shaken the Earth and so I will remain in the memory of the world forever. My forever is only a moment, but my impact will never fade.