Walking to the edge of the world, you spot a figure in the vast, dusty plains.
You pause. There's nothing around for miles and eons, save your footprints in the fine dirt.
[[Approach the figure]]
[[Continue your journey]]
This is it. The edge of the world. Is it your home? Can you make it your home?
[[Go back to The Beginning|The Beginning]]You walk towards the figure. They are facing the opposite direction, looking out over the vast gray nothingness that is the edge of the world.
[[Ask them a question]]
[[Greet them]]You are walking. There is dust in your eyes, remnants of times that have come and gone, times that never were and are still to be.
[[Go back to the beginning|The Beginning]]
[[Go to the end|The End]]"What are you looking at?"
The figure doesn't acknowledge you. You come closer, trying to match their vantage point. It's the edge of the world as far as you can see. But as you shuffle, side to side, trying to perfect your angle, a flash of green appears across your vision. You pause. Was it real?
You move this way and that, until the flash of green becomes a permanent fixture in your vision. A vast, lush forest, full of ancient towering trees, has appeared just feet away, replacing the plains that once were before you. Ferns creep out of the forest and out onto the plains, inviting you in.
[[Walk inside]]
[[Ask another question]]"Hello," you say. It's a start.
The figure turns to you. You look at them, studying their features. Despite being separated by just a few feet, you cannot seem to see their face. Even looking directly at them, their features are unknowable. You know, however, that they are smiling at you.
"What brings you to the edge of the world?" Their tone that of an old friend.
[[Ask them a question]]
[["I wanted to. Why not?"]]
[["I was called."]]
You carefully walk past the figure and step from the dust and clay into the forest. You look behind you. The figure is gone, but the edge of the world remains, gray, gritty, and once more, lonely.
You look around carefully, identifying the trees around you, memorizing their growth and shape. Perhaps you'll need to navigate back here at some point.
[[Venture deeper]]
[[Turn around|Continue your journey]]You walk into the verdant green. This isn't an oasis, more like a portal. Is this still the edge of the world?
As you walk, your mind wanders.
[[Look at the sky]]
[[Study the ground]]You hesitate. Why did you come to the edge of the world? You know you should have an answer. You did, once upon a time. Before you came, you told your family, friends, even your whole community-- whoever asked and would listen. You told them that the edge of the world was calling to you, that you knew in your heart that you had to go. And they understood: that sort of calling was rare, a direct invite to take the pilgrimage, and was only given to those who are worthy.
So what if you were lying?
But here, now at the edge of the world, lies seem to be of less service.
[[Ask them a question]]You don't hesitate. Why did you come to the edge of the world? The answer is automatic, inherent to your very being. Before you came, you told your family, friends, even your whole community-- whoever asked and would listen. You told them that the edge of the world was calling to you, that you knew in your heart that you had to go. And they understood: that sort of calling was rare, a direct invite to take the pilgrimage, and was only given to those who are worthy.
So what if you were lying?
[[Ask them a question]]
"What brings you to the edge of the world?" You ask.
"It's my home." The figure cocks their head. For a moment, you can almost describe their face.
You look study them some more. They look like they belong there. The way a whale belongs in the sea, a bird in the sky, a pig in the mud. You cannot imagine them elsewhere. This is their element.
[[Continue your journey]]
[[Walk inside the forest|Walk inside]]Ecosystems are one of the most overused metaphors.
Of course a lot of things are like ecosystems. How can a world full of living beings interacting through the systems they created ever truly transcend beyond its core of nature's creation?
Sometimes we forget they are of this world too.
As you wander, you come across a clearing. It is full of vibrant wildflowers and tall grasses-- a meadow in micro. Bugs flitter through the foliage. Birds call and sing to one another from across the trees.
"Do you believe that?"
It's the voice of the figure you met before. You turn around. The voice is coming from the form of a deer, whose dappled coat ripples with the breeze.
[["Of course we are."]]
[["We used to be."]]There is no sun at the edge of the world, just a mid-gray haze. Looking up, there is light coming through the dense, woven canopies of the trees, but you cannot tell its source. Bugs and birds flit through the air, unbothered by your presence. They are in their own rythym, minute but valuable parts of the [[ecosystem|Ecosystem]].There's no path for you to follow. You pick your way carefully through the forest. Large ferns erupt from the soft soil. A layer of leaves and debris sit atop the dirt, feeding it. You spot a few small mushrooms. You know that beneath, a larger network of fungus connects the trees to one another. All of this, a beautiful [[ecosystem|Ecosystem]].The deer cocks its head. "Do tell."
"The trait of being natural is transitive. Human beings are natural. We are of nature. No matter how many things we build, the walls we erect, the systems we enact, we remain of nature. And thus, so does the world we have constructed for ourselves. We don't look at a beaver's dam and say that their engineering and reshaping of the river is unnatural. Is the river different that it would have been without any intervention? Perhaps. But the beaver is an animal, building its home. And its construction provides the homes for other animals who rest in the slower waters. Human intervention is just as natural."
The deer blinks at you, one eye after the next.
It runs off.
[[Follow]]The deer cocks its head. "Do tell."
"The trait of being natural is not transitive. I am not my mother's daughter, or my father's son. I may have been, once. But what I have become is so terribly different from what I was."
The deer blinks, one eye after the next. "Is metamorphis not natural?"
You <<linkreplace "sigh">>sigh, recollecting your thoughts. "Humans are a force of nature. Fire, or lightning. We bite the hand that feeds us. We're water, cycling through different forms, capable of rending destruction just as easily as giving life. We aren't the organisms in the ecosystem, not anymore."<</linkreplace>>.
It runs off.
[[Follow]]The deer keeps just ahead of you. You trail behind it, careful to step where it stepped, following its path.
The longer the walk, the more uneasy you get.
Why is there so much life at the edge of the world? Why is the <<linkreplace "deer">>figure<</linkreplace>> here?
The edge of the world was supposed to give you the chance to breathe. The forest is suffocating. It doesn't mean to be.
[[Call out to the deer]]The deer turns around. "Where would you like to go?"
"It's too much," You start.
"Isn't it always?"
"Then why did I come to the edge of the world?"
"I thought you knew why."
[["I want to continue on my journey."]]The forest shifts around you. Trees turn into buildings. The soft soil becomes concrete. It's your main street. The deer is gone, the figure in its place.
"You can go home."
For a moment, you swear the figure has the face of your best friend.
[[Go home.]]
[[Don't give up.]]You think of the people you left behind. You've already come to the edge of the world. You saw it. You're ready to return.
"Okay," you say.
The figure frowns. "You came to the edge of the world. In learning your place, you have given it up."
The street shimmers, then is gone.
You and the figure stand in the edge of the world.
[[Continue your journey]] You came to the edge of the world for a reason. You shake your head.
"You're learning."
The street shimmers, then is gone.
You and the figure stand in the edge of the world.
[[Continue your journey]]