• majoki

Intro to Intro

Marta hurried down the unfamiliar halls looking for her classroom, but the more she hurried, the more unfamiliar the halls became until she was in a part of the building that seemed very un-university like. Rounded and sleek with a softness of light suggesting rest.

And only one door. Open.

She stopped and peered in. Several students were seated, or appeared to be seated. For some reason Marta couldn’t quite tell. Passing among the students was a tall woman who Marta thought must be the professor. As this was the very first day, she didn’t want to disturb the class and she didn’t want to be late to her own. She ducked in quietly, hoping to ask directions.

The tall woman directed her to a seat, a position.

“I only wanted to ask…”

“Of course. You are as you should be.” Her voice was as soft and restful as the light. The other students shifted and Marta found her place.

“Welcome,” the tall woman began. “These decisions are never easy. What courses? Which major? Where to begin?”

The lights in the room dimmed, or the tall woman’s aura brightened immensely. Marta was unsure. She raised her hand and then she herself was raised. Facing the tall woman, countenance aglow, Marta questioned with wide eyes. “Please.”

“Of course,” the tall woman began. “To set a course, an end is imagined. An introduction, however, is never a beginning. It is a foretelling. A fate.” Around her statuesque figure, gossamer strands of light began weaving in fanciful forms. “Just as you are. The story. The tale. The telling.”

Ever more fluid light floated and flitted and filled the room. The students, the participants, dissolved among the webs, nests, lattices and doodles. Each to own.

Marta felt herself spinning, being spun. Twirled through childhood and whirled into a future of futures. Each to own. Every possibility. Every choice. Timelines without time, without consequence, without judgment.

And yet only one outcome. Marta. Marta. Marta.

She relaxed and the classroom resolved. Soft lines. Familiar faces, all born with her. There and then. All told. All telling. She would never feel hurried, never feel late to her life again.

The tall woman, not an instructor after all, waved them along the wide open corridors leading in every direction. “You’ve been introduced. The rest is yours. All yours.”



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