The Pulse of Arboris: Where the silent become essential, and the unseen becomes known
[Opening Scene]
Soft darkness. The world hums with a rhythm so deep it’s almost inaudible. But if you listen closely, you can feel it in the soles of your feet. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Steady. Endless. Everywhere.
The mist swirls slowly, like a veil of breath exhaled from unseen lungs. It parts as if by unseen hands, revealing an enormous tree in the heart of a twilight forest. Its roots, thick as river currents, snake deep into the earth, glowing faintly with crimson-gold light. Each pulse of the glow moves like a slow heartbeat, traveling upward through the trunk and into the canopy. The glow spreads to the branches, lighting up translucent leaves like lanterns in the fog.
A voice speaks from the tree. It is not loud, but it fills the air as if the forest itself is speaking, each syllable carried on the resonance of wood creaking and distant drums. It is Arboris.
Arboris (calm, steady, slow like a heartbeat):
"Do you feel it?
Beneath your thoughts.
Beneath the noise of the world.
There, it dwells. The quiet pulse. The breath beneath breaths.
That is me."
(Another thump-thump reverberates through the ground. Golden ripples travel along the soil, brushing past small glowing mushrooms and silver ferns. Insects buzz for a moment, then fall still as the pulse settles everything into stillness.)
Arboris (voice steady as a distant drumbeat):
"I am not seen,
Yet I am the first to be felt.
I ask for no attention,
Yet I am the reason you rise each day.
I do not complain,
But when I falter,
All things fall with me."
The fog shifts, and faint whispers echo in the distance — frantic, disorganized, like static in the mind.
[Introduction of Nervia (The Brain)]
Footsteps crunch against the roots. Sharp, quick, uneven. A flash of white-blue sparks appears from the fog. Something fast approaches. The glow flickers like wild lightning. It zips through the mist, faster and faster, until it bursts into the clearing — it’s Nervia, the Brain.
Unlike Arboris, Nervia is never still. Their body is a web of interwoven light filaments, constantly flickering with blue and white sparks, like electric neurons firing without end. Their movements are quick, frantic. The fog reacts to them, swirling chaotically around them as if caught in their mental storm.
Nervia (rapid, anxious tone):
"Arboris! I— I need you! Something's wrong! Something's wrong, something's wrong, something’s— I can't find the signal! I’ve sent White to investigate, but the static—"
(Sparks snap out from Nervia’s head like bolts of lightning. They pace around the clearing, eyes darting, fingers twitching as if running calculations too fast to keep up with.)
Nervia (panicking):
"They’re everywhere. They’re moving faster than I can track! White's overrun — too many invaders — everything’s misfiring! I tried rerouting the thought-stream, but it’s clogged with echoes! I— I— I—"
(Suddenly, Nervia freezes, hands on their head, shaking. Sparks sizzle from their fingertips, shooting into the ground like tiny bolts of lightning.)
Nervia (half-sobbing):
"... I’m spiraling again, aren’t I?"
(They slump to the ground, curling into a crouch, shaking. The fog thickens, swirling like a storm caught in its own confusion.)
[Arboris Responds]
For a moment, there is only the sound of static crackling from Nervia’s mind. Then, slowly, steadily, thump-thump… thump-thump. A golden glow rises from the roots of Arboris. It moves slowly but surely, a wave of warmth spreading out from the ground. Each pulse quiets the fog, steadying it, until the mist becomes still as glass. The glow reaches Nervia and passes over them like a gentle tide washing over a stormy shore.
Arboris (calm, commanding):
"Breathe."
(Nervia gasps, as if suddenly remembering how to breathe. They take a long, slow breath, their fingers uncurling, sparks fizzling out.)
Arboris (slow and deliberate):
"You are not the storm, Nervia.
The storm is only passing through you.
Let it pass."
(The glow from Arboris grows brighter. The pulsing golden light surrounds Nervia, filling every gap in their filaments with warmth. The fog stops swirling.)
Nervia (slowly, breathing deeply):
"...I hate it when you do that."
Arboris (chuckles like rustling leaves):
"Only because it works."
Nervia (still annoyed, but calmer):
"Yeah, yeah. Wise old tree. Big glowing roots. Real profound."
(They stand up, brushing off their sparks, which are now calmer, flowing like the slow crackle of a campfire.)
Nervia:
"But... thanks."
(Another pulse. Thump-thump. It echoes softly, like a distant drum in the forest.)
Arboris (calm, slow as ever):
"Go now, little one.
The storm has passed.
Until it comes again."
(Nervia glances back at Arboris. Their sparks flicker as they think, but this time, it’s quieter. More measured. They give a small nod and disappear into the fog. The mist swirls after them but does not rage.)
[Closing Reflection]
All is still again. The glow in Arboris' veins dims to a soft ember-like glow. The fog drifts slowly once more, unbothered by frantic motion. A single leaf, golden as the sun, detaches from Arboris’ branch. It drifts gently downward, spiraling like a falling feather. It lands softly on the ground, where it rests in the quiet stillness.
Arboris (final words, like an ancient mantra):
"They do not thank the roots,
Until the ground begins to crack.
They do not listen for the pulse,
Until the rhythm falters.
But I remain, always.
Silent.
Vital."
(The sound of the heartbeat fades into the distant thump-thump… thump-thump… until it becomes one with the quiet of the world.)
Moral Message
True balance comes from recognizing and embracing the pulse of life within us and around us, understanding that emotions, like the rhythms of nature, are integral to our existence and to the world’s harmony.
Arboris
No comments:
Post a Comment