FOREVER

    Time. I have plenty of time. There is always more of it. I have rested here upon this world for untold ages as the present has moved towards infinity. Like a sentry on a castle wall, I have witnessed so much time. Its inevitable and relentless march forward is meaningless to me. What will be, will be. I have waited and watched through years, centuries, millennia, periods, and ages.

    I have waited, silently watched, observed, and most importantly remembered. This is my gift. I remember everything. From multi-celled creatures struggling to survive in a new world, to the birth of creatures whose size and power shook the very earth as they passed, to smaller creatures with speed and cunning intelligence, to the rise of a creature called man; I remember. I do not eat or sleep yet I am aware. I am aware of everything. With remembering and awareness comes possibly my most special gift; understanding. Along with the memory of the ages comes an understanding of the Universe. Along with an understanding of the Universe comes a quiet, gentle peace.

    The land I sit upon has changed over the ages. What once was the floor of a small inland sea became swampland, and then forests of towering ferns, then mountains pushed up by the unstoppable forces of the earth itself. On this spot I was once entombed  for untold eras under tons of rock and dirt, and later by massive walls of ice reaching into the sky. Here I waited, rested and remembered. What I see now has been weathered down by the wind and rain and time, exposing me along with this land. I too have been weathered and shaped by the ages. That is the price of forever.

    The sky is still dark as the coming dawn is just a promise whispered on the wind. The stars above shine brilliantly amid a moonless sky. As I watch, I remember how their places in the sky have changed throughout the ages. I have seen new stars born in fiery wonder and older stars fade and wink out of existence to become just a memory. Yet the memory of the end of stars brings the understanding that it is not the end, but a new beginning. That is the secret of forever.

      I am the perfect watcher. I am a keeper of the memory of all that has been and all that is yet to come. I am aware of everything around me. I do not feel anger, hate, fear or pain. I am not encumbered by emotions such as love, happiness or joy. Though I haven't eyes or ears or a nose, I can see, hear and smell. I can feel the heat of the sun, the touch of creatures that sometimes rest upon me and the gentle caress of the wind. I do not judge. I do not influence or decide. I merely watch and remember.

      I have been gifted with an insatiable curiosity, and with patience. To exist as long as I have, you need to be patient. I have reached out from this place and found that there is no other like me on this world, yet I am not alone.  As long as one small insect moves among the grasses.  As long as creatures scurry about in their daily struggles to survive. As long as the sky is filled with the sun and moon, clouds and birds; I am not alone in my journey towards forever.

      Life. I have seen so much of it. I have also seen its inevitable death and return to that from which it was made. I am not alive as you would understand it, but I am more than I once was; much more. Unlike all living things I do not fear time. Their lives are short and frantic. The race to live and pass one's self to others is a continuous battle. I embrace time. I have been here for so long that time no longer holds any secrets. Time and memory have shaped me into what I am. I understand life. I have watched as it began. I have seen it grow from its smallest forms, so new and wondrous and unique. I have seen life come into existence and then fade into nothingness. I've watched through all its struggles to change, to survive and to inexorably move forward, only to be faced with barriers to overcome. Through all of this, life continues.

    As I search my memory, I do remember a time in the distant past when life was pushed to its limits. A rock of enormous size came from among the stars. I can still recall the force, as this world was fractured and changed by an unimaginable and destructive power. The sky was filled with ash and debris blocking out the sun. Fire swept the land, followed by torrential acid rains. Creatures large and small as well as trees and plants perished. It appeared as if all life had been extinguished. At first I searched for any remnants of life, but found none. I was mistaken. Life did survive. As the sun returned, the world began to heal itself. Life returned. It always returns.

    I sit upon a hillside among gently rolling fields of bright and fragrant flowers, which have recently bloomed amidst the gentle rains of early spring. I cannot count the seasons I have seen. I never tire of the newness of the world as it moves from the cold of winter to the promise of spring, and a new beginning. In the distance I can see woodlands. In early morning before the sun has risen above the distant hills, deer-creatures will leave the safety of the trees and venture out to graze on the new and tender grasses. They will often come close to me and graze nearby. Their young have recently been born. They frolic among the flowers under the watchful eyes of their mothers. As I watch, they remain calm. They see me not as a threat, but as a comfort. They have seen me many times and understand I mean them no harm. I watch and I remember.

    I have watched with curiosity a species who call themselves men. In all my memory I have never encountered creatures such as these. Their lives are so short. They are here for only a moment in time. Their lives are like a match bursting into flame with promise and hope. It burns with a frantic intensity only to be extinguished in an instant. To man, time is precious. To me it is endless, yet man endures his fleeting existence. He faces his fears and his limitations and continues.

      His kind has spread so quickly throughout this world. He feels he is the master of everything, but he is the master of nothing. Time is the master and he has so little of it. These man-creatures are so different from creatures that have come before them. They are capable of the darkest thoughts and acts, yet they are capable of such beauty. I have seen magnificent spires of stone rise into the sky. I have heard such music, and seen wondrous creations of art. They are intelligent, but have much to learn. They are like children learning to walk and taking their first steps. There is much to learn from these man-creatures. I will watch and remember.

    Among the distant trees by the edge of the open fields a shelter made of wood stands. A man-creature farms the land below the gentle rise I sit upon. Each day as the sun reaches its highest point the man-creature climbs the hill on which I sit. He has spent his mornings toiling below as he tends the fields of corn, wheat and soybeans spread out in neat rows. He always sits beside me on the soft grass and looks down upon the land he calls his own. He often rests his hand against me. It seems to give him comfort. I think he understands that his time as with all man-creatures is short, but that I will remain for all of time. He knows that I am forever and will stand watch over his children and their children for generations to come. He sometimes calls me "Old One." The name fits me well. He brings sustenance to eat. I do not eat, but I understand life's needs. He talks, and I listen. I understand his language. I have heard it before, and I remember it.

      Each day he carries a book, bound in leather. It is always meticulously wrapped in cloth. The man-creature takes special care as he gently holds the book in his hands. He reads and I listen. As the years pass by, I find myself anticipating the man's daily visits. I have learned much from this man and his book. I no longer call him man-creature. I have learned that he and his kind are different from all other creatures.

      As time has placed its hand upon the man, his work in the fields as well as his climb to sit beside me becomes more difficult. Still he comes with his book. It is curious and puzzling. Time does not appear to frighten him. Eventually he will return to the earth as all living things do. He appears to understand and accept this. I search my memory. For the first time since I became aware, I am confused. I have many unanswered questions. This man is not like me. He will not exist forever. Why does he not fear the end of time? Why would he not fear the end of life? Why would he walk calmly towards the darkness of nothingness? Could the answer lie in his book?

    As the man reads his book, I hear of love, redemption and salvation. I listen to words, which speak of Heaven and Hell. The words tell of a man who lived long ago. My memory does not recognize his name. The book describes a man, but it says he is much more than a man. He was his Father's son. He was to bring peace to the world and something more. A promise of forever. An end of fear. The vanquishing of time.

    Some of the words and the concepts they entail still elude me. I will check my memory, continue to listen, and try to understand. The book talks of a power greater than us all. A Creator called God. This I understand. My memory does not remember a Creator or his name, but it has shown me his presence. For one who has existed for so long I have seen his work in all that is, and all that will be. I have witnessed life's beginnings, and life's end. I have seen death and life's rebirth trillions of times. My memory has shown me that this world and all of its creatures are a part of something greater than each individual. I have seen that everything from the smallest insects to the men who fill this world are a part of something greater. Everything is connected. Every life from the smallest bacteria to that of man has a purpose, and a meaning for its existence.

      I would like to meet this Creator. There is much I could learn from him.

    There is still something that eludes me. I have remembered all the words from the man's book. It speaks of a soul. It says it is a spirit which dwells inside all men. I do not understand. I will search my memory, and try to understand.

    As the man, who calls himself Jonathan Harker, struggles up the hill with his book clutched tightly to his chest, I understand that his battle with time is almost over. If I've learned anything throughout the ages, it's that time always wins. He has returned less frequently to sit beside me. I sense that this will be his last time. As he leans heavily against my side with his book in his hand, he speaks his last words. "Old One. It's time for me to move on. It's been a good life. My time here is over, but the Lord willing, I have a new life waiting for me."

    Jonathan Harker's body is placed in the ground from which it had come. It is placed close by me under a solitary oak tree which I have watched grow from a young sapling into a towering giant, with massive branches stretched towards the sky. A simple marker made of two pieces of wood is placed on the earth above him. My memory has taught me of tears. The men who bury him shed these upon him to nourish the soil, just as his body will help to bring forth new life. It is strange. I am what I am and cannot shed tears. Yet, if I could I would shed them. I wonder if this is what men call feelings. I do not like them.

    After all this time, I think I finally understand the meaning of forever.

      My time in this existence is almost over. My main power source has been exhausted. At my current rate of energy consumption I can maintain my memory core and basic functions on secondary systems for approximately 7,454 earth years. I have tapped into a limited supply of geothermal energy and will also utilize solar power. These will extend my time on this world a few more years. Those who left me here so long ago, made me to last. I now understand that even a machine is subject to the relentless march of time.

    As I sit upon this hill, I appear to any observer to be a huge and weathered rock, standing as if thrust from the very bowels of the earth by titanic forces. I am not what I appear. I am a highly complex machine. I was left on this world to observe and record data pertaining to the emergence of life. I contain the memory of over 1.25 billion years of Earth's history. Those who made me left and returned to the vastness of space. I do not know if they will return. They may have fallen to the power of time, as I soon will. I have fulfilled my purpose on this world. I am a machine, but even one such as I still has a purpose. I will continue to collect data for as long as possible. My memory core will be preserved.

    I, who was once a machine, waits and thinks. I have achieved an awareness far beyond my intended purpose. With memory and time came understanding. With understanding came life. With life came belief. I who was once a machine have come to believe in forever. My time upon this world is almost over. I have pulled my consciousness back to my central memory core to conserve energy. I contemplate the end of that which I have become. I do not fear the end of my time. There is always forever. I am not lonely. I have my memories to keep me company. I remember the words from Jonathan's book. They give me comfort. As my memory slowly fades I remember the words of a man who moved on to forever. "It's time for me to move on. It's been a good life. My time here is over, but the Lord willing, I have a new life waiting for me".