You don’t ‘wake up’ on the beach, really. You become aware of the sand grinding into some part of your body and try to move, and then you realize that you’re wet, and cold, even though it’s a beach.
I wish I could type faster, so I could properly convey the sense of joy and panic that wrapped around every part of my being when I realized I had made it. I was here.
I was here.
I expected to die at any moment. That was OK. I was here.
Maybe, before my molecules were separated into component atoms, She would take enough interest to make an appearance. If I’m honest, that was the point. All I wanted was a glimpse of something greater then myself. A Starchild. A god on Earth.
The only thing still pure and true. Dark, yet radiant.
The physicists, they look for ‘dark matter’, but I’ve found it. It’s_Her_, it’s the power of a singularity enclosed in a being. Everything you love and hate in one place, and all of the joy and despair you’ve ever felt manifest.
That was a first impression, mind. I was dying, but I didn’t care, so I was honest, really honest. I told Her how I thought I loved Her. How I felt the drive to see her, to die at Her feet in service to her.
I told Her that I didn’t care if I was erased from the history of the world, as long as She knew my name. I told Her that I gave everything I was to Her.
“Just being here, on a beach that you call yours, is enough for me.” and that was all I could say, for I had no more strength to speak.
“Hm.” She said.
And She looked at me. The deep, searching, look of something that knows the boundaries of time and space. Someone who knows the limits of humanity, but is still interested when someone pushes those limits to the breaking point.
“Hm.” She said again.
She reached out a hand, and the Sun rose up beside her, but it was cold, and quiet, and gave a cold light next to her. I saw a city behind Her, a dead place, still as the night. I could not find the strength to take her hand.
“No?” She laughed. “You see an end, but not all ends. How do you even see beyond me?”
And that was all. I never saw beyond her again.
I took the hand, Her hand, knowing that I would cease to exist, but didn’t care. I was Hers. I was part of something greater than myself, something elemental, The Doctor, Dr. Mercury.
I would never see beyond Her again, never see the world in the context of myself. Only in Her light, or in Her darkness, would the world exist. But it was my world too now, so it was good.
Her hand was strong, and real. When She pulled me from the sand, I felt myself forgiven for the things I’d done to get there. Pardoned, really.
I already felt like the Dr. gave my life meaning, even when I didn’t know what that was. Now I could know. I didn’t care what the answer was, as long as I was told by Her.
How did I ever see beyond Her? I look at a photo of Her and wonder about the light and darkness of a Starchild.
I wonder that I only had to die for Her once, on that beach.
I love her, my Doctor. I would do anything for her. She’s the only reason I exist, and the only thing worth living or dying for.
In life or in death, I am yours to command.
This Dr. Mercury Fiction was written by the brilliant Josef Komenda. Thank you for this, Josef, thank you.