The second largest pigeon in the northern hemisphere was wobbling beneath the boardwalk in the direction of a stale, hotdog-less hotdog bun when it’s confrontation with Infinity began.
You should know that this was was an extremely large pigeon. As large as a chicken, but instead of a chicken imagine a pigeon; raincloud-grey with the exception of two patches of white above its tail-feather and covering it’s left eye. This pigeon was notorious for stealing funnel cakes from hapless boardwalk goers, it’d swoop down and yank them straight from their paper plates as they strolled the boardwalk. “DO NOT LEAVE FUNNEL CAKES UNATTENDED” the sign at Dhempsey’s Cakes says, with a crude pigeon-like illustration beneath it.
That is why it was so large. It wasn’t the pigeon’s fault, really, but the funnel cakes, and the french fries, and the chips, and the melting ice cream, and the hot dog buns had gotten the pigeon stuck in a cycle of gluttony that the pigeon did not recognize, as it was just a pigeon.
On the upshot, this pigeon was not sad, nor happy, it was just doing it’s pigeon-thing. What is a pigeon-thing? A pigeon-thing could be described as cooing, eating, pooping, or flying, sometimes more than one at the same time, such as flying and pooping, or eating and pooping, or cooing and pooping. Lately, though, flying had become difficult for the second largest pigeon in the Northern Hemisphere, it struggled to generate enough lift to pull itself from the gravity of Earth. Watching this pigeon attempt flight was watching a very hairy friend pull a Band-Aid off of their very hairy leg.
But as one might expect, Infinity was significantly larger than the pigeon, at least conceptually. Physically, it occupied an average amount of space, mostly for its own sake. Infinity liked to measure itself in bikes. There were a lot of bikes at the beach. Spinning, sitting, coasting. Infinity was two bikes long, three bikes wide, one bike tall. Six bikes deep. Infinity liked to pretend it could bike itself, which it could do with an infinite amount of time, supposedly. It was exhausting being limitless. Infinity had no real exposure to the visible spectrum, and when it chose to manifest itself it existed briefly as a collapsing wave-function that was too big to be felt significantly, even on a molecular level, before essentially distilling back into itself. Infinity was mostly a feeling, which was why Infinity’s favorite song was Boston’s “More Than a Feeling.”
It was late in the afternoon when the pigeon hobbled beneath the boardwalk, the sound of heavyset American vacationers pounding on the old wooden planks. In the beginning, this sound frightened the pigeon: the clack clack thump— but the pigeon was stronger now. Wiser. More deductive. A little more brave, maybe stupid, if anything. Thirsty. Hungry. Animalistic. The pigeon wanted food so badly that it sought it with a brand of intent that it bypassed all else. To the pigeon, if you were not food, you were an obstacle to be destroyed or ignored. Most of the time ignored.
One of those things it happened to ignore was Infinity, who was ten feet in front of the pigeon.
The pigeon cooed softly at a slender piece of bread it was marching towards, saying, in it’s own pigeon way, “stay still, for I am coming, and I shall cast myself upon thee with a force which will shake the earth. Or something.”
Infinity, representing itself as a translucent spatial-distortion (see: invisible, mostly) also did not care about the pigeon: did not care it was occupying the same space as the bread, as it shouldn’t have. The Endless just wanted to kind of do it’s own thing and think about bikes for a while, let the sound of the spokes wash over it— unlike those annoying fucking waves from the beach, just constantly the same thing over and over and over— the rubber and old wood making a peaceful thuckathuckathucka noise. That noise was enjoyable to Infinity because it made Infinity think about signs on the side of the road.
See, if the distance between point A and point B was infinite, one would never be able to bridge that gap— not even on a bike— except with an infinite amount of time. To experience the Infinite, you would need an Infinite amount of time. (Infinity loved thinking about itself).
On the other hand, if the distance between point A and point B was two miles, and between those two points there were an infinite amount of signs for Rest Stops, then you could technically experience an Infinite amount of signs in a finite amount of time by just traveling from A to B. An infinite amount of something else in a finite time. Infinity solved itself occasionally, somehow, and it bothered the Endless.
But Infinity tried not to dwell on Itself for too long. It was just annoying, you know? One Infinity bigger than the other? Who thinks of these things? Not the pigeon, that’s for sure.
Infinity warbled, upset, at the pigeon. It imagined the bird flying over an infinite number of infinities and not even giving two shits, not a care a in the world. This stupid, piece of shit bird was 10 feet away from Infinity, looking dumb, fat. A little angry, somehow. This pigeon had no idea, not even the faintest clue about anything. Infinity bet that pigeon didn’t even know what it was doing, not even cognizant of it’s own existence. Infinity wanted to punch the pigeon in the ribcage, if it could figure out how.
At this thought, the pigeon stopped abruptly. It froze, completely still, eyes focused at something in the sand, which it pecked like a chump. It pecked it four times. You know what it was? It was nothing. Because it was a stupid pigeon. This really made Infinity mad. Who was this pigeon? Where did this pigeon get off even existing? And why?
Infinity growled, but really, if you want to know what it physically did, it kind of just hung there, floating invisibly in the shade beneath the wood planks, staring at the pigeon, wishing for just one second it could smack the shit out of this bird that was getting too close to It’s personal space, which was technically everything but more figuratively the area immediately surrounding Infinity.
To be fair, Infinity had been there for every moment, forever and ever, from the beginning (whenever that was) until the end of time (whenever that is). Infinity had casually observed every observable instance of every particle and wave and wave-particle in the observable universe. It had been there for the rise and fall of nations, from the first Planck second to the last terrorist attack, at the centre of a a supermassive black hole and in the most desolate void of space, at the funeral of billions of stars and the forging of planets, the birth of every man, woman, and child, for the coming (and subsequent leaving) of every Messiah and the construction of every mall in America, it was even at your birthday party. Infinity was there every time someone sang “happy birthday” or buried their kid. It was there when Rob Callahan “accidentally” came inside Tracy Lopez, as well as when Tracy Lopez drove to the clinic the next week and got that abortion. It was there when Napoleon jacked-off in that fancy tub in his palace and waded in his own cummy bath water for an hour before getting out and having someone else drain it. Infinity was there for every episode of Cheers— it was simultaneously all-encompassing and the most innocuous thing. It was unknowable, incomprehensible, revered and feared. Except not now. Right now, this pigeon couldn’t give two stone-cold shits about Infinity.
And this was causing Infinity to lose It’s patience.
Over the next few seconds (which, to Infinity, was simultaneously a tremendous amount of time and the blink of an eye) the pigeon not only approached Infinity, but began to walk right through it. By the time Infinity knew what was happening, the bird was deep inside the Endless, without so much as a god damn coo in confusion.
Some clarification.
By all means, Infinity is not a creature or a person, but a concept— a maximal concept. And if a maximal concept is to exist, it will possess all qualities of all things, including consciousness, as such that consciousness is a quality of a thing in which Infinity is a part of: everything. Other things also within Infinity: anxiety, asthma, nut-allergies, a sweet-tooth, a taste for blood, fear of spiders, and so on and so forth. However, consciousness is the big winner in that race, as once consciousness becomes available, so does choice, or the very persistent illusion of it.
Oddly enough, the pigeon was also conscious, on some lower level. There are levels, of course. Not enough to fully comprehend what was occurring, but enough to slightly elevate it’s heart-rate as it strolled through the thick of Infinity, still completely set on getting to that hotdog-less hotdog bun, fallen in the sand.
But let’s take a step back for a second. Or sideways. Wherever.
Half a mile out at sea there was a man on his boat. He was fishing, rather unsuccessfully, and drinking, rather successfully, from his collapsable chair on the deck of his small aquatic vessel, lovingly named THE GRANOLA GAY, and from there he was able to see a good portion of the coast: the shops, the shore, the pier, the rides, as well as the boardwalk where this confrontation between Infinity and the Pigeon was occurring.
He was also the only human on Earth who would witness the showdown, though he really didn’t, at least not actively, which in that way he was just like the pigeon, who did not understand he was even participating in such an event. Understandably, the fisherman would have probably liked to know what was unfolding before him: the second largest pigeon in the Northern Hemisphere versus Infinity. Yet on the same token, it would have greatly disturbed the serenity he felt, rocking softly on the waves, his head soaking in a few cans of beer.
Thus we have a man who is not knowingly a participant of something, yet wildly close to being involved. Infinity, in its regality, was aware of the unawareness of the fisherman and felt all too frustrated with this idea. Infinity wanted an audience: someone to be slightly offended along with It, someone to share in it’s emotion.
As the pigeon crossed into Infinity, in conjunction with its slightly elevated heart-rate, the bird was overcome with a very distinct twinge of discomfort in its left wing, which it shrugged off with a flutter and another coo.
And that was pretty much the extent of it.
In all of it’s might, Infinity could only cause a slight annoyance to the bird, leaving it no choice but to continue, continue, continue on while the pigeon strutted through It like an x-ray passing through a body, eyes beady and darting.
Infinity wanted to understand. It wanted so badly to be the pigeon. How the pigeon, in being unable to comprehend Infinity, had rendered Infinity irrelevant. The bird’s simplicity was it’s saving grace. To be reverent of Infinity was to required an awareness of it’s existence, and this was something the pigeon simply could not do.
So the pigeon again stopped, this time deep within the Great Force, the Mother/Father of space, space/time, physics, science, baseball, mathematics, cooking, language, philosophy, humanity, and pornography. The bird craned its neck as if it was hearing its mother, which it certainly wasn’t, being that she’d been shot dead by a Bullseye Pest and Bird Control, who washired by the county to curb the “feathered menaces” of the Boardwalk.
Infinity gazed down, into itself in time to see the pigeon blink wildly, as if it was suddenly becoming aware it had of it’s position, and with a great amount of zest, the pigeon began to beat it’s wings. But, in reality, the bird was aware of no such thing, instead having been startled by a prop-plane flying a car insurance banner over the boardwalk.
In the commotion, the bird had dislodged a soft, grey feather, which became lost inside of Infinity, stuck in the literal sands of time. The bird meandered out from inside Infinity, made it’s way from beneath the pier, and breezily waddled it’s way to the hotdog-less hotdog bun, now moist with sea-foam.
The pigeon pecked at the bun, cooed, and pecked some more until there was but half of the bun remaining. The bird took a hunk in its beak and, with the entire world as its runway, began to run down the beach before soaring off into flight over the sea.
The moment, but a breath, was the single most emasculating thing Infinity had ever experienced. Actually, it was the only emasculating thing Infinity had experienced, and the Great Force had no choice but to watch from every conceivable angle as the bird flew away; rendering It a non-issue.
As the Great Force replayed and replayed and replayed the chubby-necked creature’s flippant disregard for life, reality, and the universe in it’s entirety, It became more and more apparent that, in spite of recent events, the bird’s casual un-observation of the non-events had actually been the only thing sparing Infinity from an infinite amount of defeat. There were, in a sense, no witnesses.
Sort of.
There was a fisherman— as there usually is—and this fisherman saw a very fat bird flying towards him from the shore. It was a pigeon. And the fisherman, being employed by a pest company, one that specialized in decimating the population of feathered menaces in the coastal area, thought to himself, “I should shoot that pigeon.”
The fisherman had no gun on his boat, as they usually don’t.
So, once again, another being was turned helpless against the plight of this fat bird. The fisherman, extremely tan beneath his backwards hat, followed the trail of the pigeon, who plopped loudly on a buoy in the water beside the fisherman’s vessel after it’s hefty flight. In its beak, with wonderful black eyes darting, was half of a hotdog bun.
“Jesus,” the fisherman said, rocking calmly at the behest of the ocean, “the last thing you need is bread.”
With that, the pigeon dropped the bread onto the center of the buoy.
The fisherman leaned over the side of the boat, peering.
Inside of the buoy was a mess of a nest. A home with three small pigeons, and each was crying, waiting for their mother to make lunch.
Infinity fumed.
Infinity - 1.
Pigeons - 4.