At exactly 12:03 pm UTC on December 17th, Alex disappeared. He didn't notice anything specifically at the time. He had just looked at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, waiting for his lunch break. He wasn't sure exactly when the change occurred. He thought on the moment extensively later. He concluded he must have been while he was typing on his desktop, writing up the that week's sales analysis for his company. Engrossed in the statistics, he didn't notice his disappearance until he tried to look at his watch. It wasn't there. Nor, for that matter, was his arm. Or his shirt. Performing a more detailed checkup, Alex realized that he wasn't there at all. He could see none of himself, though he seemed to be able to control his body. He sent the mental message to his arm, and he assumed it moved, though it was hard to tell. To verify this, he moved one arm in a direction so as to hit his other arm. To his vast astonishment, nothing happened. He felt no impact in his arms, no touch of skin on skin.
Baffled, he rose and picked up his lunch, then walked out of his office. Deciding against human company, he headed to an out-of-use conference room and settled down.
Slightly belatedly, he realized he hadn't felt anything on his way. When he walked, he felt no impact of his feet on the ground. When he opened the conference room door, he did not feel the door on his hand. His heart pounded. What was going on with him? And why? As if in a dream, he tried to pinch himself. Nothing. A sob escaped his lips. Why could he not feel anything? And to make matters worse, though he knew that he had sobbed, he had felt nothing, heard nothing. He did not exist.
Frantically, he pushed back his chair. And passed straight through it. 'No! No!' his mind cried out, but he could make no sound to be heard.
Alex convinced himself this was just a bad dream. But as time wore on and nothing happened, his conviction lessened and lessened. Finally, he was forced to accept that this was his life now. He was stuck as an unseen, unheard, unfelt presence in a world revolving around sense. He could watch and listen as events unfolded, but could do nothing to alter them.
After a few years, he could take it no longer. His silent ravings and pacing increased, and he no longer saw the things around him. In a rage, he picked up and threw imaginary objects, screaming his silent anger to the world. That couldn't last forever, though. He slept. And as he slept, he dreamed of a beautiful world. One that did not need to be felt to be admired. One in which his existence would matter to nothing and no one.
He paid a visit to a library, where he read over people's shoulders. He saw many picture books, read some fragments of fiction, and at last stumbled upon Descartes. Cogito ergo sum. I think therefore I am. He could imagine no greater gift from a man long dead. Cogito ergo sum. He existed after all. It was simply that he had transcended the world of matter and extension, and passed on to a new realm.
For the next several years, Alex traveled the world. He hitched rides from people he did not know and who did not see him. He walked for hundreds of miles at a time, for without a body, he knew no fatigue. He sought out the peaceful places in the world. A lonely beach. A vibrant forest. A beautiful sunrise over the remains of a devastating forest fire. He visited all these and more. His sanity returned, slowly and in pieces, but returning nonetheless. What did he care if he could not change the world? He could still admire it in all its glory.
Centuries later, Alex was on the first of many manned intergalactic missions. He was one of the first Earthlings to see the Milky Way rise over the horizon of a foreign planet. He explored first one, then another, then another still, finding always sights to be seen and sounds to be heard. He became a roaming traveler, knowing all and known by none. In time, he even found a modicum of inner peace.
The universe was a glorious thing to see and hear, and he, the unseen, unheard, unfelt, was there to admire it all.
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