The Cold

For about two years, he remained of roughly the same power, and thus continued my life’s endless cycles. But nearer the end of the second year, there was an unexpected surge in his ability. I may truly have become as soulless as the others portrayed me, had She not been available to me. She took me away from Avogadro in countless times and, though She was not knowledged of this, She truly saved me from destruction.

For where Avogadro had Cold, She had Hot. Just one touch of Her hands could release a warmth that spread within me, a warmth that threatened to dissolve Avogadro’s Cold. But it never fully dissolved—his Cold was always there, deep, deep in my breast.

As the days passed, I could feel the Cold becoming stronger, taking over more of my body. She would hold me for longer, lightly breathing Her Hot over my sensitive skin. She was fighting for me, bless Her, battling his Cold with Her Hot. But I knew he was becoming stronger. She knew it too.

One day, after a particularly nasty encounter with Avogadro, I had my first row with Her.

Frozen, I was, from the tips of my toes to my fingers and nose and even the insides of my mouth. With shivering hands, I tried to reach for Her. I could hardly move.

She pulled my face towards Her chest. She was angry, I could feel it. I felt the Cold receding, seeping away from me, and I pressed myself close to Her, grateful for Her Hot. I tried to thank Her again, for Her goodwill and kindness—and love, but She interrupted my words. She said something I could never forget, that I could never manage to banish to the confines of my mind.

She told me I had no Cold. That there was no such thing as Cold anywhere in this world.

I clutched at my breast and demanded that She explain. No Cold! If there was no Cold, then what could be the existence of this dormant animal sleeping in my lungs, that would awaken near Avogadro and that was growing larger after each hibernation?

She said that Cold was merely the absence of Hot. She said that I was Cold in my heart because I had no Hot.

That cannot be, I said. I can feel the Cold. It is right there, in my bones and crevices. It lives inside of me.

Then She explained the Laws of Thermodynamics:

  1. Energy cannot be created or destroyed.
  2. Entropy and disorder must always increase.
  3. Entropy approaches a constant as temperature decreases.

She said it was the Second Law. It meant that energy could only flow from Hot to Cold—never the reverse—or as the truth was more akin to, that energy flowed from Hot to less Hot. Cold could never spread, never multiply itself. In this universe, only Hot reserved the right to do so.

And if there was no such thing as Cold, then Avogadro could not hurt me. For I could not be destroyed by something that did not exist.

But even if there was no true Cold in the universe, I argued, I knew that Avogadro was the Cold. She simply could not understand; he was the Cold that could not exist. He was a paradox of the universe, an anomaly whose power emerged from the very rules that prevented its own being. Far from weakening Avogadro, I now understood in a deeper light the contradictory nature of his existence. Avogadro’s power was intrinsic to the universe. And there was no defeating him.