I can feel the numbers flowing past
Everything you are, everything around you, all the things that happen to you have their foundation in mathematical probabilities. How likely it is that you’ll sneeze in the next 30 seconds, or how likely it is that you’ll develop cancer in the next year, or how likely it is that you’ll be hit by an asteroid in the next decade.
I can feel the numbers flowing past me like water tonight. Each has their own import, their own meaning, their own destiny. But they’re all slipping by me so quickly, as my point of view moves down this timeline, that I can’t focus on any one of them. I don’t know what they mean, any of them.
But I know they’re there. And they ignore me, unaware, flowing around me like billions of tiny fish as I stand in a river of time. Their collective mass influences me and my life and my destiny, but they don’t care, because it’s all just numbers to them. They are numbers.
I wonder when my number will be up. I can almost feel it, if I only knew where to look, where to grasp.
And then, having grasped it, what would I do with it?