Plasma in the middle.

He grabbed a star with the slingshot and aimed it at a nearby sun.

Pulling the band back as far as he could, he remembered he needed his glasses and awkwardly slipped them on without letting go.

“Three, two, one,” he said, and released.

The star crashed into the sun, triggering a massive explosion of plasma. It dissipated just before reaching him.

Carefully, he trapped a fragment of the explosion in a jar and sealed the lid.

He shook it slightly. The plasma took shape, stood upright, and began pounding the glass with its fists, trying to escape.

He shook it again, and the plasma collapsed back into a formless cloud. He shook it once more, and this time it became a bird.

Slowly, he opened the lid. The bird flew out and landed on his shoulder. He stroked its head with his index finger just before it took flight.

As it flew away, the bird began to grow—first a hawk, then an eagle, then something larger.

He ran beneath it as it expanded, growing bigger and bigger. Suddenly, the ground vanished. Too late, he realized he was running toward a cliff.

Without hesitation, he jumped. The bird turned midair and caught him as he fell.

With every beat of its wings, nearby planets shifted up and down, settling back into place like ripples smoothing across water.

He climbed toward the bird’s head and sat on its beak. From there, he watched the universe ripple as the bird moved through it.

Suddenly, the bird folded its wings and plunged toward a black hole.

Just before entering, it spread its wings wide. The light being pulled into the black hole scattered, dispersing like dust blown by a powerful wind.

Then the bird folded its wings again and dropped inside.

Instinctively, he moved the plasma around him and slipped into the bird’s head. Holding his breath, he watched the distortion unfold within the black hole.

The trapped light twisted and transformed, taking shapes—like the bird had done near the other planets.

He began to understand: the figures and forms the light assumed were wishes and moments, made upon stars or witnessed by them.

They were being returned to the beginning, preserved for safekeeping and storage.

At the center of the black hole, a small figure sat at a desk illuminated by a single lamp—wearing a striped shirt and jeans.

It had a large visor and an old typewriter with no paper.

The bird circled the desk and began to shrink. Panic surged through him for a moment, but then he shrank with it—and as he did, he could breathe again.