-- 
*Mar*Of course. Here’s an *original short story* inspired by the themes of
your essay — *wormholes, consciousness, the yearning of matter, and the
spiritual journey beyond death.*
------------------------------
*The Light Beyond Zero*

*Inspired by “Death – The Wormhole” by YM Sarma*

When Arundhati lay in the hospice bed, her breath shallow but steady, she
no longer feared death. She had studied physics all her life — black holes,
quantum fluctuations, the fabric of spacetime — yet it was only now, at the
edge of that fabric, that she began to understand what it meant to be light.

Outside her window, the autumn sun flared through thin clouds. It painted
the hospital wall in golden waves that seemed almost alive. *Waves of
consciousness,* she thought. *Perhaps that’s what we are — light dreaming
itself as matter.*

She had spent decades chasing equations that curved space and bent time,
searching for the elusive *wormhole* — the bridge between worlds. But the
deeper she went into her research, the more she felt that the real passage
wasn’t in the stars. It was within.

Her breathing slowed. The machines hummed, indifferent but constant. Each
beat of her heart felt like a countdown — not to an end, but to a beginning.

Suddenly, something shifted. It wasn’t pain; it was expansion. The walls
around her dissolved into patterns of shimmering geometry, as though the
atoms themselves had stopped pretending to be solid. She felt herself drawn
inward, into a point of infinite density and infinite calm — a singularity
made not of gravity, but of awareness.

And then — silence.
------------------------------

When she opened her eyes, there was no ceiling, no hospital, no body. She
floated in a vast ocean of light — pure, breathing energy. She could see,
but there were no eyes; she could feel, but there was no skin.

>From every direction, waves of color and sound wove into her, through her,
as though the universe itself were speaking in light. She realized she was
*travelling*, but not through space — through *consciousness*.

Ahead, a pattern formed: two spirals of radiant blue meeting at a single
glowing throat — a cosmic whirlpool. A *wormhole*.

She remembered her own lectures, her diagrams, her calculations about
curvature and time dilation. Yet this was not math — it was *invitation*.

She felt a whisper inside her being:
*“You have always been light. You slowed yourself down to see yourself as
matter.”*

She understood. Every particle, every thought, every heartbeat had been an
echo of that descent — light choosing to forget its own speed.

As she entered the wormhole, there was no fear. It felt like diving into
her own heartbeat. Time folded into nothing. Space collapsed into
stillness. There was only motion without moving — awareness without form.

On the other side, she found not another world, but a deeper version of
this one — vibrant, transparent, humming with the same consciousness that
filled her. Trees shimmered like living equations. Rivers sang frequencies
instead of sounds.

She sensed others — beings made of light — and among them, one familiar
glow. Her father, who had died when she was a child, smiled with eyes that
were now suns.

“You found the shortcut,” he said without words.

Arundhati laughed — though laughter was now music, and music was now light.

“Yes,” she replied, “I built the wormhole — not in space, but in silence.”

And she knew that she had not died. She had simply returned to the *speed
of her true being* — the speed of light.
------------------------------
*Epilogue*

In the hospice room, the nurses found her body still and peaceful. On the
bedside table lay her notebook, open to a single line:

“Every atom longs to return to light — every consciousness, to its source.”

Outside, the sun broke through again — a pulse of radiance across the sky,
as if the universe itself had smiled.
------------------------------

Would you like me to continue this story into a *longer, philosophical
science fiction piece* — perhaps expanding on what Arundhati discovers in
that realm of consciousness beyond matter?

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