Our Infinite Fates

by Laura Steven

Over the past lifetime I had seen the way it eroded democracy and gamified conflict, the way it splintered attention spans and polarised opinions to dangerous extremes, the way it devalued art and fed the leeches of artificial intelligence, the way it jacked adrenaline and manipulated dopamine and narrowed human awe to a singular flickering point.

“I love you, and I have loved you, and I will love you,” he whispered, hoarse, tortured. My throat ached. “I love you, and I have loved you, and I will love you.”

“My love for you could fill an ocean, Evelyn.” There was an awful resignation to her tone. “But it can’t stop the tide of time.”

Because that’s the thing about humans—we leave traces of our souls everywhere, as unique and identifying as fingerprints.

“Translation in a colonized state is an act of violence, and…”

“The Evelyn I know … they love over and over and over again, even though it can only ever end in tragedy. Even though they’ve lost everyone they’ve ever loved, and they miss them in the next life, and the next, and the next. Never have they developed hard edges like I have. Never have they tried to protect themselves from that pain. They love softly, and fiercely, and openly, and it’s the bravest thing I know. The most human thing I know.”

I needed more, like an addict craved the poppy.

Rin from poppy war

“It’s overwhelming, loving like this,” I said weakly, my chest aching and aching. “My heart feels like an open wound. I don’t understand how everyone just … walks around with the knowledge that everyone they love will soon be dead.

What an almighty, devastating mess. A Greek tragedy with no end.

I kept my eyes fixed on the love of all my lives

Our infinite fates were no longer infinite, and nothing could have hurt more.

“So we will be devils.” That seemed less unbearable than being apart from Calliope, which I did recognize as an extraordinarily sapphic way to think.