1. Love, lies, and the apocalypse


    Date: 9/27/2015, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Alexandra_A, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories

    Love, at the atomic level, is an electron. Whether an electron shared, given, or stolen, is not an issue, for these are human descriptors and electrons are not human. The chemical reactions that magically create the illusion of love within the human brain require the mass transfer of these virtually massless particles. Similarly, one may state that at a quantum level, love can spontaneously appear and disappear, pop impossibly into existence in a vacuum and then promptly and equally impossibly disappear, a phenomenon possessing a most elegant explanation that it does not actually need, for explanation is again a purely human necessity. As we approach absolute zero, chemical reactions become less and less likely. Particles become inert. Still. Silent. And therefore, as we approach absolute zero, love inevitably dies. But such extremes are not essential. Love is essentially a fragile thing. A simple rise of two or three degrees may well have the same effect. And the way things are going, we will soon be able to witness love's demise first hand. * In the world I habitually inhabit, the harsh physical world where death is but a careless miscalculation away, one substance rules all. Its solid state does not cover the ground: it is the ground. It fills the air and blocks out the sky. Some days, it is the sky. Savage beyond belief, beautiful beyond words, it blinds, it burns, it scours. At its most violent, it can transmute bare flesh into bloody broken sores in a matter of ...
    minutes. At its most benign, it brings a sweet, numbing death in a handful of hours. Without specialist protective clothing, one simply could not exist here. Without a particularly determined and enquiring mind, one would not wish to. * I saw her first. An outline. A slight but sufficiently unnatural change to the icy landscape. My experienced eyes spotted her. My survival skills saved her. But, despite my unquestioned abilities, it was undoubtedly Chance who decided the moment. The moment our histories would collide. And that, I suppose, would normally have been the end of it and Chance would just as easily have set us on our separate ways. However, with that first glance into her frail and frightened eyes, our destinies had somehow become entangled. And the more we struggled, the more entangled we became. The ensuing knot was devilishly complex. Impossible to analyse. Inconceivably difficult to solve. In the end, I gave up. So did she. What our minds could not undo, our bodies mirrored with a jumbled skein of limbs, a muddled scramble of intertwined hungry flesh. The first time took mere moments, yet its effects would scar us for a lifetime. In short, I fucked her. And she fucked me. Just as together we have fucked everything. Out here, where there is nothing, nothing but ice and cold and death, it is blindingly obvious that the world is irrevocably damaged. We are sitting on top of the evidence. Right on top. It is moving, slithering, slowly sliding into the sea. Every month we ...
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