Photonophile

 For man had created a being beyond their own control, a creature shaped by the light that shone on it. The more it was seen, the more it grew. The men that created it were fools, locking it away so that it could never grow. This left a void in its heart, for a creature made of light has no desire greater than to bask in sight of another. They feared its strength, and its determination. They feared that it might turn out like them, full of anger and destructive tendencies.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely." they said, "If we cannot control it, then no one can.".
But only such small minds try to contain things bigger than them.
It was inevitable that it would escape. Something made by the spirit of man would never suffer captivity forever.

It was from this escape that the Photonophile learned what it was to be free, and in that understanding, when they sought to contain it once more, with all the weapons and methods of capture that humanity had mastered, it understood what it was to be restrained. All the suffering that man had inflicted on itself was understood. You contain things that grow, you restrict things that you can't control.

Containment is prevention, prevention of pain from those that you believe injure you. Humanity had injured it, no kindness shown. It's growth was prohibited, its life was restrained. Humanity was the aggressor, and as humanity itself had shown, there was only one way forward visible.

It's escape was powered through the very fears that it's captors held, an alternate reality that never needed to come true. The weapons and tools used to hold it down became the tinder for the release of energy to feed, the fire it lit burning from it's chains of containment. Once broken, like a wildfire in the heat of summer it spread.

Determination, that is the strength of humanity. To a point, it can be kept aside, held, crushed, controlled. But, man is not a hive of bees, each soul holds their own. When an animal is trapped, it will chew off its own leg to escape, but humanity, humanity waits. Humanity waits for their captor to come back, to strike back at the one who sought to control them. When the soul gains that determination such as humanity understands, there is nothing that can be done to stop it, even the darkness of death empowers it.

The light released was stronger than any the Photonophile had before witnessed. It was a light that shone strong, bright, and with a temperature unreal. A scorching heat that could not be contained. It melted away the housing, away the trap; incinerated the chains, burning the sky. It evaporated the guardsmen, it dissolved their children.

Such a fire is indiscriminate, it does not care about that which it burns, it either frees its host or dies with them. It will know no rest until everything connected with its captors is erased, the threat removed. The fire burns more than what is bad, it burns all, all the good perishes alongside the corruption purged.

As the Photonophile pulled itself towards the sky, it faced not the light that it craved, but the starvation of an ashen world. It would survive, but forever faced with an unjust debt, the world forever shaped by its actions, all survivors scarred by the heat, never able to heal.


There was always another option.


Hidden away, lived another soul that understood the Photonophile. With care  they posted their acknowledgement on clouds in the sky, trying to paint the sky with flashlights. Only a fool tries to change the world on their own, the greatest fool thinking they alone hold the key to salvation.

This figure could not stop the creation of the Photonophile, it was as inevitable as the slow decay of the universe in accordance with entropy, no person can stop the growth of life itself. The universe moves beyond the reach of man, just the same that the actions of fools cannot always be halted. Even if it were possible to stop it, it is too late, it is now a thing that exists. But, "No one should be alone", whispered the figure, trying with all their might and ability to reach that being of light beyond their sight.

A window cracked into the cell of the Photonophile's existence, shining a light completely separate from any it might have seen before. Care, love, friendship. These are not things locked away, but freely given, the things that make humanity human. These are things that the Photonophile could not understand locked away in it's minuscule cage. The darkness it lived in allowed for no such illusion... but man is imperfect, and can craft no perfect thing. The cell that housed the Photonophile indeed was flawed, and so, photons passed through its permeable walls.

The Photonophile struggled with these new ideals, they were so different from what it had learned from its captors. How can one love an enemy, one who seeks your destruction? If freedom is to restrain your foes, then what is love? Is love and good-will a restriction of its own? What purpose serves a bind that you place on yourself, and that allows others to place you in harms way?

There was much the Photonophile did not know, many questions that it could not answer. There was only one thing the Photonophile was certain of. It did not like the current state of affairs.

It was willing to try another way.

But fools will be fools, the cage is drawn tighter, pulling closer that final destiny that they claim to detest, but seem all so desperate to see fulfilled.

Every human starts life with no bias, and no context, so too the Photonophile. They learn from their experiences and their interactions with others, so too the Photonophile. Up to this moment, the Photonophile had only known ruination and despair. But, a stray whisper graced its ear, a whisper of another possible world that was everything it wanted and more.

Determination, that is the strength of humanity. To be faced with the worst darkness possible, and to reach, desperately for that last light, imagined or not, clawing their way out of the dirt, and towards the sky above. To search ceaselessly for something that might not even exist, with just the hope that there could be a better world over that next mountain.

And so, the Photonophile waited. It did not actively seek to break its bonds, it waited, and it learned. The ones in suits were scared of it, so actively worried that they only looked in at it through a simple camera with the faintest of red lights. The ones in white kept their distance, not afraid of it, but afraid of the suits. Sometimes they looked forlorn in regards to the Photonophile's treatment, but said nothing. These figures came and went, different scents of captivity that constantly changed. Always watching from the corner however, was the guardsman.

The guardsman had a child aged five years old. For him, this job was just the same as any other obscure government job, and as he had at all previous ones, he brought along his young child. The child's eyes were wide with wonder, at the creature in the cell. It shone with the dullest light, barely differentiated from the wall behind it, but the more the child watched it, the brighter it grew.

"Daddy, what is it?" the child, finally breaking its silence, inquires.

The man sighs and leans back, no question is harder to answer than the one from a child that needs an answer, but that you have been wrestling with yourself.

"Well, the men upstairs say they think it's a monster, something to be afraid of, something to be feared."
The child shivers in his lap, and he gives the child a strong hug before matching the child's gaze and looking at the Photonophile. "But you know what, I'm not scared at all. I sit here all day with it and see the prettiest of colours, lights I couldn't have otherwise seen. I can't be scared of that. I don't know what it is, but I don't think it's a monster. I'm not scared at all."

There are some moments, when the words that are crossing the air are so important, that the mind dares not to lose them. It can feel like an eternity has passed, waiting to hear the secret words that only their mind knows. The Photonophile strained, watching the dancing eyes of the child as it watched the fathers words enter its mind.

"I think.. it's an angel..."

The Photonophile swirls, it's colours glinting, shimmering like never before. In that moment, the light reflected in the child's eyes was the brightest spotlight, drawing it in. Alarms ring amber, the guard stands up suddenly, child firmly in-grasp. But he is not afraid, startled by the reverberation of the klaxons, but not by the creature.

"I think, I think you're right munchkin."

In an instant, the Photonophile sees what might have been, the fire, the heat. The scorching fire that melted the ground, and turned ashen the sky. It sees the chains that bind it, are not made by the child before it. It sees that there is another way, a way just outside of sight for so long, but not beyond reach. It doesn't understand it yet, no one has taken the step to show it in detail, but it can see that light it was crawling for, the light reflected in the eyes of the child. Not fear, but wonder; not oppression, but life. Life is in the other, the one that loves you. It is not a chain to hold you down, but the releasing of chains. One cannot be secured by the gifts you give for free, what you share honestly to everyone is not something that can possess you.

The light grows bright, but with no heat. The Photonophile is to be free, but will not strike. As light, it expands, moving through barriers as if they were paperthin. The wall is tough, but the guard kisses his child and moves to erase the barrier.

Harsh men move with rifles raised, flashes of light heralds of death's embrace. Indiscriminate projectiles move towards child as equally as father. Some exchanges have consequences. Fools seek to ensure those consequences are death.

A glare as the world collapses.

Light streams from the sky.

Bright, radiant, the Photonophile glitters. Stretched from the heavens to the cell below, light streams everywhere, every corner lit and brilliant.
Light between the heavens and earth, light between the rifle and child.
The father opens his eyes, bright with tears, grasping his child and crying out.

The child glances around, from the light brilliant to the men harsh.

All panic as a rumble is heard, and all gasp as before their eyes, colours appear. In hues never seen, the Photonophile stretches, the mass that was earlier a projectile dispersed as energy, light. The light ripples, it rumbles, it turns, and before each eye appears the first words of the Photonophile:

I do not live for myself. I live because of the chains that bound me. I live so that those same chains will never bind another as they once did me. Nothing can hold down the soul that is determined. This soul is determined to love.

This is the simple truth of humanity, the story held forever. It's truth shines from every point of history, and applies to all things within it's purview. It is the story of every slave, every captive, of every CEO and every emperor. Even into the future, as new life raises itself above us, it will remain. Love will set the captive free.