THE DEATH OF MAB

     The entire universe in which most of us live is just one leaf in an immense forest, the Big View Eternal Park. Inhabiting this forest are well over ten times the largest conceivable number of fairies. These are fairies in the sense of "invisible spirits of the woods"; any other sense is up to them and none of your damn business. In politics it is fair to say they are monarchists, though no one pays taxes, and the death penalty is impossible. All in all it is a happy state of affairs with nothing but courtesy, refinement, and empty ceremonial from eternal dawn to eternal dusk.

     Throughout this endless existence the one and only monarch of Big View was, is, and ever will be Queen Mab. Her beauty absolutely defies description, thus I must describe her. In one brief instant she is every possible woman and not woman; her radiance is darker even than grey; her justice the impartial bias of chance. Her lips are sweeter than trousers, and her eyes fiery zephyrs. Well, I told you it couldn't be done.

     Of Queen Mab it must be said that she was all-knowing. The most insignificant actions of her most insignificant subjects (a Ronald Reagan/Rhonda Fleming movie?) are as familiar to her as the clash of her favorite galaxies. And so it is all the more amazing that she should have done what she did, knowing full well the outcome of her action. It was during the fortieth infinite cycle of eternity when she decided to abdicate her throne. "Can't stand in the way of progress!" she crowed; a curious claim considering that nothing would or ever could change in Big View Eternal Park. Her resignation was duly accepted, since it is impossible to disobey Queen Mab. Her successor, identical to her in every way, was summoned out of the Void of Dispersion, arriving nameless and clothed in the largest perfect number.

     In the riotous celebration that followed the arrival of the new queen Mab was almost forgotten. She sat alone in a corner, or I should say almost alone, because a tiny voice squeaked out from under her chair, "Well, what now?". "Eh?", Mab was unaccustomed to answering questions. "I mean, what do ex-queens do with themselves?". Mab saw that it was the new queen speaking to her from the mouth of a glowing embryo encased in a crystalline egg. "Hmmm...", Mab was also unaccustomed to thinking. And then she said, half in jest, "I suppose I could go find you a name." The babe shrieked furiously at this, "That could be dangerous! Besides," she started to calm, "I don't need a name to begin with." Something in Mab knew that the new queen was right, but still she overreacted; perhaps it was pride, or maybe she was regreting her recent decision to forgo her position. It's one thing to be the center of the universe, quite another to be the universe itself. Had she made the right choice? Was existence worth it? No matter, she'd chuck it all now to find a name for the Queen. And where else? Mab jumped into the Void of Dispersion.

     Tartarus as a way of life. Existence shredding itself into Klein bottles of psychoactive wine. Mabness assailed by tornadoes of possibility.

     A wave broke upon the shore of no sensation; a body, once Mab, cast up at the feet of the Queen of the Forest. "Your name," it heaved one final breath, "is Mab."

     In the first universe of the second infinity of the fiftieth eternity of the Big View Eternal Park (which is to say everywhere) there is a unique solar system. A single, massive blue-white star orbits a black hole blazing out a gravity wave transmission to all Existence, a single sentence, Mab's epitaph, "To sacrifice thyself to Thy Self is no sacrifice at all."