In existence, a question echoes through every layer of reality, whispered by the weak and pondered by the powerful: Do beings have free will?
This question has been asked since consciousness first recognized itself as conscious, since the first being looked at its own actions and wondered...did I choose this, or was choice merely the illusion I was permitted to experience?
In the Earliest Folds, when time still debated with itself about which direction to flow, there came a moment that those who witnessed it would never forget, though none could agree on why it had occurred.
Countless Early Creatures had been gathered together in the Early Veiled Shore of THE Creature itself...that primordial being whose nature transcended classification.
The Shore stretched endlessly in all directions, its waters so blue they made the concept of other colors seem like failed attempts at approximation.
The gathered Early Creatures, each one powerful enough to unmake reality through irritation alone, stood or floated or existed in whatever manner suited their nature, all drawn by summons that none could quite remember receiving.
THE Creature stood at the shore’s edge, gazing out at waters that reflected not sky but possibility itself. Its form...if form was even the right word, suggested contemplation so deep that thoughts themselves had to evolve to accommodate it.
It was then that a Young Early Creature approached. Young being relative...it had existed for merely millions of years rather than billions, had only witnessed the birth and death of a few rather than countless infinities.
The young one’s form trembled with something that Early Creatures weren’t supposed to feel: doubt.
"Do we...have free will?" the question tumbled out, as if it had been building pressure until it had to escape or unmake its holder.
"In existence, are we free to make our own choices, or is everything actually predetermined?"
The Young Early Creature’s features showed increasing distress as words continued pouring forth.
"Is existence already set for Early Creatures to act certain ways, to make certain choices? THE Living Existences...are they trapped by their very nature? Did THE Living Order have a choice except to order? Can THE Living Paradox be anything but paradoxical?"
Its voice grew more frantic, each question spawning three more.
"Do even Inevitabilities have choice, when their existence is nothing but hunger? They consume because that’s what they are...is that choice or programming? Are we all just... following scripts written into the fabric of what we are??!"
The young one’s form actually shook now, experiencing what would later be called an existential crisis...though at this point, existence itself hadn’t been properly defined enough to have crises about it.
"Is choice real for any of us in these Folds, or is it actually an illusion? A comfort we tell ourselves while we perform the roles that were always going to be performed?"
The questions hung in the air with weight that made several nearby Early Creatures step back.
The young one looked at THE Creature with eyes that contained something no Early Creature should experience: fear.
Not of destruction or ending, but of the answer itself. As if knowing might be worse than wondering.
THE Creature turned from its contemplation of the endless waters.
When it smiled, reality itself relaxed slightly, as if a tension none had noticed was suddenly released.
When THE Creature spoke, its voice didn’t travel through air or space or time. It simply was, loud and silent, a communication that transcended the concept of communication.
"You and I live on entirely different Scales of Existence."
HUUM!
The Young Early Creature stood in silence that stretched beyond time, processing this answer that was both terrifying and liberating.
"So we are free?" it finally asked, voice small despite its massive nature.
"You are as free as I am," THE Creature replied. "And I am as bound as you are. That is the only equality that exists across all Scales of Existence...we all choose according to what we are, and what we are is shaped by what we choose."
The gathering would eventually disperse, each Early Creature carrying away their own interpretation of what had been said.
The young one would spend eons contemplating the answer, sometimes finding comfort in it, sometimes finding horror.
Because the truth that THE Creature had shared was perhaps the most terrifying and beautiful paradox of all: Every choice was both inevitable and free, predetermined and spontaneous, bound and liberated.
In existence, every being was writing a story that had already been written, while simultaneously writing it for the first time.
That was the nature of choice in a reality where time, causality, and consciousness were all aspects of the same fundamental mystery.
And that mystery? It chose to remain mysterious, freely and inevitably, because that was its nature.
Or perhaps it had no choice at all.
The answer, like all true answers, depended entirely on who was asking!
Oh!

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