A Cage of Butterflies
By Anne Whynn
A District 9 Fanfiction
### Post movie, spoiler alert for the movie. Intended to be read after the movie has been seen. ###
### Set three months after the departure of Christopher and the relocation of the non-humans to District 10 ###
Do You Believe in Destiny?
There are things in this world that we take for granted. Things that we overlook in their mastery because they are simply expected, because their existence is something that is so assured, the marvel of them is lost.
Take, for instance, the simple gift of life. A living body, an organism. Something that just is that might not be truly examined. A heart beat. Lungs drew in air. A motion was enacted without ever really being thought about.
But the true complexity of life and the sheer impossibility of its creation are often overlooked.
Out of innumerable amounts, a specific number of atoms are brought together, twining with one another to form a specific chain of DNA, which was expressed in the form of life. Suspended on the finite strands of fate that brought them all together to construct the living tissue of a form that would never, ever be matched by artifice, no matter how far technology advanced.
Behind eyes, organs for sight to perceive the world uniquely for each individual, were thoughts, electrochemical impulses that came together to form what was known as a consciousness. Each consciousness was singular, restricted to the individual. One consciousness matched to each body and not any other. A plethora of unimaginably complicated processes that some would say surpassed simple biology and transcended into a metaphysical realm of existence which housed the ineffable, untouchable, unfathomable thing that was a soul.
The marvel of the soul was something that many would contemplate, but the marvel of the body that housed it sometimes escaped them. Not the complexities of its make up, but the sheer impossibility of its existence. The impossibility of anything existing at all, be it because of the atoms that came together to form its shape, or the events that led up to the single moment. People focus on the events that are unlikely as being impossible, but every single event is equally impossible. For one, single event, one single moment to exist, it had to face insurmountable odds.
A single being out of all the odds, existing in a single moment, out of all the odds. Combined, the impossibility of it would simply be overwhelming.
Yet exist they did, both being and moment. They had climbed over the odds and pushed them aside to emerge, bloody and beaten, in that one moment. Out of all others. Out of all other possible locations, and times, and people, it was they who stood there on the cusp of something that might never have come about at all. Of all the strings chosen for the tapestry of fate, it was theirs, it was that one, and they were there to witness it.
Perhaps, in order to better understand such a concept, it could be simplified to the trail of blood flowing down the arm of a human woman, a single droplet crawling along and leaving behind a trail of crimson. It moved its snaking path along the invisible road of her skin, before it hovered on the tip of her lax fingers, shivering with each indiscernible motion of her arm. Minute movements that shuddered across its expanse like earthquakes, threatening to destabilize it at any given moment. Something so insignificant to her that could alter the existence of the droplet irrevocably.
Then, finally, it released its hold and plunged into oblivion, taking the dive between her finger and the ground with the grace of a bird plummeting from the air in a fall from which it would not rise. A final, defiant moment to declare that, though its life was brief, it had indeed existed. A single droplet that was, in itself, a miracle.
Millions of cells, trillions of atoms, all of them which could have been elsewhere, elsewhere in her body, elsewhere in another's body, could not be organic tissue at all. Instead, they were contained in a single drop. That one particular drop, that had taken one particular path and hovered on that one particular finger, and fell at that one particular moment.
Tears, dreams, hope and despair. All of it reflected on the light that bounced away from the droplet as gravity dragged it closer, hungrily.
When it touched the ground, it bent, warped, twisted dramatically as, once again, it tenaciously clung to its form, clung to its existence. Then it exploded outwards in a brilliant display of red, swirling through the air like dancers, defiant to the last moment in their beauty
An occurrence that could be overlooked like countless others in its lack of meaning, but if one sat to think about it, it was as miraculous as the soul. Components, going back endlessly through the stream of time, that could have ended up anywhere, that could have become anyone, or anything, were there in that moment. Not anywhere else. A person, a single spot, a single time.
The sheer impossibility of the odds itself might not be immediately apparent, but if only one were to look, they would see that, against all odds, that moment had happened. The droplet had formed. It had fallen. It had exploded and faded from existence.
They were there. No one else. Nothing else. They had become themselves, and their parents had become who they were, and their ancestors had become what they had been. They were not anywhere else. They had not lived anything else.
A single possibility where the possibilities had been endless.
One might say it was a miracle, a miracle in every single portion of a thing.
But maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was not simply chance. Maybe it wasn't overcoming impossible odds.
Maybe... it was…