Space

by Lew Sethics

    Strange thing, space.
    Or is space a non-thing?
    The only non-thing in a Universe almost
    completely empty of things?
    Space contains the Universe.
    The Universe is contained inside of a non-thing.
    The last tick of the last clock will somewhen go
    unnoticed by the last observer, long extinct,
    But after the last cause ordains the last effect,
    Space will still be space.

    A respectful silence followed The Reading by The Poet, and everyone agreed with what He said and was somewhat saddened by it, and some were confused by it.  An atmosphere of anger evolved, hostile drinking and smoking cigarettes, with an occasional look.
    But He was above the masses, and feared not, but ordered His boilermaker, lit His smoke, and stood bad.
    “Who the hell does Space think it is?” demanded an angry matron, whose wardrobe cost less than the drink in her veined fist.
    “What gives Space the right to still be Space when the last tick thing happens, you know the cause thing, you know,” challenged a “college” student, who could roll papers, but couldn’t write them.
    Everyone agreed and repeated the challenge.
    He stood to His full height, His long grey coat falling from solid shoulders to threaten the very floor, taking only a slight detour around an ample waist and upon a pair of slightly mismatched Italian shoes.  And He said:
    “You know, I usually get a drink or something for doing this.”
    Then it was quiet for a space.
    “Did you feel that?” was the unspoken question that someone spoke.
    They suddenly realized that Space had entered into the conversaton.  A very frightening thought indeed, considering the rampant anthropomorphizing going on a few minutes ago.  Quiet minutes.
    “What did it say?” someone asked, interrupting Space in mid-sentence, causing a stir of clothing and a shuffle of feet, and a clatter of glasses, then the honk of a horn outside , the jukebox coming to life, cars and busses  and airplanes  and sirens wailing.
    Space had walked among them, and had spoken, a silent message somehow quietly reverberating as the echo of a soundless void.
            “Buy the man a drink” someone said.