The Universe's roots in Chaos.
As I venture into a deep-most dream beyond the start of anything at all an increasing screech clatters through my head from voices wanting to be heard. And they are ancient, those that are loudest, even though outnumbered.
As I go I ask "How far am I from the root?"
They reach to me from trees watered by the Gods; from ships floating on endless waters while others tear at me with searing flames. They claim they know the answer and yet I feel they don't. But there is a commonality in their claims; they know the world is real. So I search for nothing but everything at once knowing one contains the other which in turn contains the other.
Why the Ouroboros? My scream repeated in my fall through time and space.
I am confident yet in fear. If there is nothing before the Universe then I shall perish unrewarded. But that cannot be because the Universe exists. There is no origin in nothing unless that nothing has swallowed all we take as real.
I feel the anger all around this descent of mine. "Space and time are real" they call in personal despair. But I know that has to be untrue.
Phwoosh! Explosions of light, mouth stretched wide by streams of lightning. My stomach filled with viscous goo that burns away my pride. A bubble forms closing around and above me as I plunge.
Idiot! I hear them call. To think you could escape from your mortality.
But I knew I'd won this little battle. They had no choice but to follow me and I had seen... No ! I had sensed that timeless, spaceless place in which the Universe had begun.
This zone at the start of it all surely implies that space and time are not absolutes found in all possible systems.
And our Universe had such qualities which in turn implies Chaos could hold the Ouroboros of our being.
Spluttering I surfaced thrown out by the shattering bubble and I saw him there, slowly drowning as the vortex dragged him down. Einstein looked aghast but he needn't fear; strong arms reached out dragging him onto a bobbing raft.
But they turned their back on me disgusted by my challenge to their views. My demise would be a defensible neglect; a problem well removed.
They jeered at me yelling in disrespectful tones. Are you happy now with Chaos as your master? But there was curiosity too. How big? How fast? How deep? All manner of temporal things they asked as though my knowing the correct answer mattered.
Desperate for the shelter of that raft I shouted out terse replies. There is no space. No mass. Not even little quantities; there are none at all. The same with time; there is no such thing as time in Chaos.
Well what is there in Chaos? I heard whispered with witch-hatred tones by the yelling mob.
There is number? I shot back. How can that be if there's nothing there? came the quick reply.
It isn't true. Nothing is a different thing to not having what you seek. In chaos there are vast quantities and qualities but very few that our senses could either register or measure.
Why not? enquired the forceful whisperer.
Because there are extremes many of which lie outside the limits our own Universe can hold. But things like temperature and energy intensity do apply in Chaos.
A lower tone settled over the mob with their yells settling to a deadly low-level chant.
There is sequence too. But only where there are pockets of continuity. And in further desperation I added "And pattern, through fractals, make it possible for Chaos to spawn our Universe."
I reached the raft, a single hand stretched down.
Einstein : "What on earth's a fractal?"