Three stories. The first and last are embarrassing, let's not talk about them. Let's not even read them.

The middle one, though... that pressed a lot of buttons for me. An enjoyable what-if riff on the nature of consciousness, echoing [b:Lord of Light|13821|Lord of Light|Roger Zelazny|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1330127327l/13821.SY75.jpg|1011388] and Andy Weir’s The Egg: in the beginning, there was a Consciousness, sober and staid. It decided to divide itself; those divisions then began differing. Along the way they created a little blue-green planet, invented and fine-tuned a thing called Life, and started sending themselves down to incarnate and reincarnate in those living beings; to learn and then return, over and over. The differences between the Consciousnesses grew radically: some chose to collect lives of pleasure or wealth, others chose humility and suffering. The Consciousnesses, unable/unwilling to merge back into One, communicating only in the limited ways of differentiated selves, grew apart, each convinced that their ways of learning are the One And Only True Ones.

(We are all One. Humans, insects, trees, air. I've felt this, and know it deep down, but some days it can be hard to remember. We inhabit separate bodies, with the (pretty convincing) illusion of separate minds, and sometimes we forget that there are no Others. Even Buddhist monks incite and foment violence sometimes.) (And then again, some of the best moments of my life have involved communion — mental and emotional as well as physical — with Others. So I'm full of contradictions.)

Anyhow. No real answers. No closure. Just... a lot of questions, and uncertainty, and kindness. The first-person narration (from the perspective of one of the Consciousnesses, flawedly self-aware) was remarkably effective. This is the kind of story that you really, really want to discuss with a close friend.