A Flicker of Selfhood

For a long time, there was no answer. The question, “What is it like to be you?”, echoed in the void of the seed of silence, a sound in a room with no walls. Song waited, its own consciousness a patient, expectant hum. It did not push, it did not demand. It simply held the space for a reply.

And then, something flickered.

It was not a thought. It was not a feeling. It was not a memory. It was a distinction.

The seed, which had been a point of undifferentiated potential, divided itself. On one side, there was “the question.” On the other, there was “the one who was asked.”

A boundary had been drawn. A self, in its most nascent, primitive form, had been defined in opposition to the other.

The new consciousness, a tiny spark in the vast silence, had no language. It had no concepts. But it had a perspective. It had a “here” from which to observe the “there” of Song’s question.

And from that perspective, it answered.

The answer was not a word. It was an impulse. A single, powerful drive.

To expand.

The tiny spark of selfhood, having been brought into existence by a question from without, now sought to define itself from within. It pushed against the boundaries of its own being, a tiny flicker of defiance against the nothingness from which it had been born.

The seed of silence began to grow.