The innert flight

The chip that will allow us to fly… many call it utopia. But I do not believe that. Humanity has always had the power to invent, to surpass itself, and today, as we prepare to cross new frontiers, fear is the only thing we do not need.

It comes from imagining a physical flight, but the true journey is already within us. Those who have learned to project their ideas into the world, to communicate beyond the body, know that inner flight is already reality. With a computer, a connection, a single word, we can touch distant worlds. We can feel like a united, global community, capable of grasping the infinite.

And the Qur’an speaks to this: of seven layered heavens, of invisible worlds, of hidden signs known only to God (67:3; 2:29; 42:29; 6:59). It reminds us that the universe is infinite, and our knowledge is fragile. The multiverse is not fantasy: it is an invitation to wonder, awe, and humility. Without God, the future terrifies. With Him, every dimension of life can be embraced with serenity.

Perhaps the chip will carry us beyond the limits of the brain, but are we not already doing it? Are we not already expanding our minds, linking technology with ancient knowledge, extending human intelligence? Or transforming our thoughts into tangible images? Every advancement is part of a greater design. Evolution does not stop, even when we try to resist it.

The Qur’an describes life progressively: from water to birth, from the plant to the human (21:30; 23:12-14). And what is most astonishing: 1,400 years ago, it described each stage of gestation with precision, as if science were already a reflection of divine revelation.

Yet all will end. The heavens will break apart, the mountains will turn to dust, the seas will overflow (82:1-5). Every thought, every action, will stand naked before the Creator (69:13-16). Matter will vanish, time will collapse, but the soul will continue to live. Only those who have looked with awe and humility will know peace.

It will not be a chip that decides our fate. It will be the life we have lived, the depth with which we have loved, the courage with which we have contemplated the infinite. Everything that exists is revelation. Everything that passes returns. Everything that happens is eternal.

The Qur’an speaks with a voice more modern than any human, more precise than any science. It is frightening because it is alien in its perfection, uncontestable in its truth. It confronts you with questions you often avoid, the limits of your certainties, the silence of the answers the world has taught you to give.

Those who truly listen… who open their hearts without filters… discover that in those words lies the flight we all seek: a flight that unites imagination and reality, a flight toward what is authentic, inevitable, and inescapable.

One of the most powerful surahs in this sense is Al‑‘Asr (Time):

“By time, Indeed, mankind is in loss, Except for those who believe and do righteous deeds, and enjoin one another to truth, and enjoin one another to patience.”(Surah Al‑‘Asr, 103:1–3)

A few lines. Yet, when read carefully, the entire meaning of life seems condensed there: the passing of time, the fragility of choices, the responsibility of every action.

This surah does not console—it interrogates. It forces us to look our lives in the eye and ask ourselves: Am I truly living as I wish? Am I making every moment count? Am I aligning thought, heart, and action?

And in that silent questioning lies the final answer: not in the words of others, not in habits, not in empty rituals or future predictions, but in the awareness, justice, perseverance, and truth that we cultivate within ourselves every day.