The bullet began to cool in the air, and little points on its surface became receptive of our life-giving breath. In a fraction of a moment that would be thousands of millennia in our world, life emerged: first as unimaginably tiny creatures, nourished by the heat of the bullet, which then merged to form new ones that were larger and more complex. Over the period of millions and millions of rotations, changes occurred, and forms that were totally unknown to us appeared, preying on and devouring one another. Species that walked beneath the copper, species that crawled on the copper surface, and species that flew within a hair’s breadth above the copper succeeded one another, dying and getting born, living their punctiform lives in the light of the sun and in the shadows beneath the bullet. Heliophile species began to change sun rays into nutrients and energy, developing into forests and groves populated by nameless beings with infernal and nightmarish faces, clad in armour shining with the colours of cobalt, aniline, and turquoise, and carrying swarms of some other beings on their appendages.
There were disasters and devastations: occasionally, the vapours of molten copper killed nearly all living creatures, but new ones appeared in their place, even more hungry for the sweet essence of life, even more striving towards light and spirit, for once the river of life begins to flow, it can never be stopped. We waited for at least a spark of the Spirit which pervades us all to reach that world, as it once did yours, and, indeed, the hundreds of eyes of some living beings of cadmium and iridium, with their purple veils and their nostrils like labia, lit up with the divine Intelligence, the love that moves the sun and other stars. Countless civilisations of these wonderful creatures perished, thousands of rotations happened until, halfway between the rifle and your chest (you were frozen, like everything around–the sea, the ships, the bullets flying through the clear air–in a daguerreotype of fatality), the intelligent beings started to explore the world, asking themselves, just like you, in your vanity, who they were, where they came from and where they were going. Countless disputes erupted, schools and academies were built, the laws of the universe were discovered, the means of transforming copper into pure energy were invented, and history was written, but not the way it had happened, just like your false histories. Having learnt to perceive the constantly rotating dark and luminous world they inhabited, they realised that it was part of a much larger world. Bit by bit, that huge world revealed itself to them: the port of Potamos, the battling ships, the white puffs of smoke, the cries of the drowning.