GuNNhead

Launched and uncaught, we have arrived approximate to this old galaxy. While there is still a ways to travel to our destination, the announcement of a feast still spurs the Prophets to their bountiful banquet. I join for the exposition.

“Seers, believers, and special guests! The time has arrived, our allegiance with The Network has reached its first apex. Though many have tried to stop us, we have prevailed. Within the gossamer strands of this new galaxy, the greatest ancient artifact we have discovered to date, prophesied to aid in the survival of this universe. This artifact shall be ours, and together we will save our universe! Now, feast and revel in our salvation!”

The hall erupts in cheers, and they nourish themselves on spirit. I go back to my craft, but down the hall I am called out to by Axivognt. It is about the artifacts, they are the heaviest materials in the universe. The current knowledge is that with their combined weight, that they will be able to embed them into the center of the universe, and re-ignite the collapse, renewing the universe for untold billions of years, creating new life once more, and preserving what lives have been built. He makes it clear that while I won’t be required for the archaeological requirements, I may prove instrumental in acquiring the artifact, as it is the heaviest found so far by a large margin, and they may only get larger from here on out. I do not focus on what he continues to say, because my focus is gradually drawn outwards. The Artifact. I can always feel the gravity of the universe, I sense it with every pulse of my existence, drawing it in. My suit bristles with a surge of power. Axivognt notices, and knowingly inquires if I can feel the weight at this close range. I confirm, noting that I could feel it vaguely in the background as we were approaching, but it wasn’t until this range that it truly piqued my purview; as there are numerous neutron stars and black holes. Though, I add, that as theorized, these are far beyond the mass limit of a neutron star, surpassing that of a black hole, and yet it has not succumbed to it’s own weight into becoming a black hole itself.

Back on my ship I scour through what The Network’s database has so far for data on this relic of a galaxy. The Cannon is being built, but has quite the time yet to be operational. 28% scanned, 53% hostile border to the discovered edge. Not many are found this restricted, or, as The Network calls it “disavowed”. One of its primary operating parameters. If beings lay claim to a territory of space, and request that The Network not scan it, it will not scan it. That is, of course, if it runs into any sentient beings. Most of its scans find no such presence, and result in simple resource extraction. To build more scanners. To build another Galactic Canon. To launch more scanners. To scan and document and connect the universe. Ongoing, even in the face of a complete and total universal collapse. Which is where these “Prophets” come in. The Network’s own data supported The Prophet’s predictions, and it agreed to flag and notify them if any of the ‘gravitational artifacts’ appeared in their scans. With their galaxy’s aid and cooperation, their Galactic Cannon had marked improvements. From this point onward, The Network and The Prophets worked side by side. Though The Network would still not interfere if their scans were refused, The Prophets were free to spread their prophecies, often from there being able to extend the olive branch for The Network’s database.

The Prophets had one of the few wholly united galaxies. Second, of course, to The Network’s own home galaxy. My own was peaceful, though nowhere near united. Many welcomed the wealth of knowledge from across the stars, and wanted our records in the annals of their historical and current database. Under 25% disavowed space. With most of that spread out in small pockets. So, with the universe being 13 billion years old, theirs would be 8 to 9 billion years, while mine is 6.5 billion, right in the middle of expansion. No where near as old as this 11 billion year old obstinate curmudgeon we find ourselves in.

There is a deep rumbling that echoes throughout the dreadnaught. A gathering of vast power outside. Then, a tremendous silence. I make my way to one of the viewports, but there isn’t much spectacle to witness. We are on our way outwards, to older galaxies, birthed before mine. Though I continue to feel the pull of the center within me. Every so often, a rumble. Caught by another cannon. Silence for calculations. Another rumble, launched. Silence.

I use this time to read more in The Network’s database. I wonder if my power could match their technology, travel through the universe itself, if only I knew how. The way these “cannons” utilize the gasses of the Intergalactic Medium to transverse galaxies is not well understood from what I’ve been able to grasp in my reading so far in The Network’s database, perhaps like the old lack of consensus of aeroplane’s lift, though I never had much care to learn all of the details. Of course, they could also be keeping the secret for themselves. They have, after all, never encountered another trans-galactic system of connections, or even a unified galaxy able to explore beyond its own Galactic Barriers. At least according to the database.

With further reading, I discover that, at the time of discovery, The Prophets were the most aligned in their ambitions that The Network had discovered. Though, even they were still in their infancy in terms of developing the right technology to achieve those goals. The Prophets were able to unite their home galaxy, though they did not have the technological resources or support their vision until they had The Network’s database. Then, they were able to pursue their Prophecy. Saviors of the universe, following The Guide. Nothing accessible can really describe The Guide, however. It reads as more of a path than a central entity that provides them with information.

As a token of appreciation for their commitment in aiding in the cataloguing of their home galaxy, The Prophets were offered an opportunity to travel to new galaxies. Their assistance helped build their galaxy’s Trans-Galactic Cannon, after all. Since The Network sends out many reconnaissance drones to so many new galaxies, they surmised that having The Prophets helping in diplomacy and unity for just a single galaxy would be a unique opportunity to study how this would influence The Network’s data gathering. They were a friendlier face than The Network, after all, and it was all in service of uniting the universe through knowledge and peace. And so of the countless drones sent out from The Prophets’ home galaxy, they followed ones as directed by The Guide. In that next galaxy, Prophecy was proven, it was united and the cannon built. Prophecy after prophecy would be proven, and so they would follow to another, and another, continually following “The Guide”.

Over the course of their association, the word of The Prophets would spread along their path, from engaging in minor diplomacy in individual star systems to even recruiting some of the galaxies’ own to their ranks. These galaxies were the fastest spreading thanks to the prophets, and it kept growing, proving time and time again that The Guide, whatever it was, was correct. Perhaps some sort of timeline of the universe, able to predict the future, and place events. It is the one path in which The Network tolerated conflict against those who violently reject The Network.

Not very riveting reading, all in all, but with the time passed we have finally made it through the cascade of Trans-Galactic Cannons, and are now in the first galaxy to hold the fruit of that which The Prophets search. Now what did they say it was again? I’m sure they’ll announce it with another feast.

Aboard The Prophet’s galactic dreadnought, we approach the edge of my galaxy. I look back at it and feel nothing. From this vantage I can clearly see the empty space devoid of stars from when I used the Graviton Infinitus in my first attempt to destroy Kænus. To think, all my power, all my rage at that point in time, 12% of all planetary systems in this galaxy were demolished… I would be much more precise now. And be able to destroy the entire galaxy.

At the Galactic Cannon, I head to the front observation deck. While large, for a device designed to send objects between galaxies through the Intergalactic Medium, its design is not all that impressive. Sort of just a big tube. With four rows of three fins to adjust direction and aim. Toward the middle, between the spacing of the fins, are eight bulbous protrusions. Stored within those are stars, harvested for power. The Network certainly knows what they’re doing.

Once the dreadnought is loaded into the cannon, all that is left to do is wait while it makes the calculations required. We’re lucky in that there’s another Cannon to catch us in the next galaxy, our future destinations once we’re further out will take much longer to calculate for a craft of this size. Especially since these were designed for an expanding universe. Once we complete our first mission after daisy-chaining multiple Cannons to our destination, we may end up overshooting one entirely by innumerable light-years, or worse.

Axivognt approaches me having barely aged. His species’ life span is exponentially greater than most. He places his hand on my shoulder and begins to orate at me in his wizened way. He tells me of his time in other galaxies, his contact and cooperation with The Network, and concludes with a focus on this galaxy; how the large majority of new recruits from here are terrified of me. Their parents raised them with stories of how I would get them if they misbehaved. I replied that that’s better than being hated, as the previous crew members I had met despised me with religious fervor after my body rejected the Gold Leaf Spirit Cheesecake, and besides, I would kill this crew or anyone else in the cosmos for far less than misbehaving. Understanding my point, he thanks me for joining them in their prophesied quest. That my aid will be invaluable towards the goal of saving, restoring the universe. I walk away from the conversation, and wait out the remainder of the calculations aboard my ship, stored within theirs.

That night we address all of Loameria in a large, crowded arena. Giant screens project the image of the stage where I stand among the Heroes of Loameria and the Prophets of the Last Eclipse. The Prophets make their path known, outline the collapse, and distribute assurances. The heroes, particularly the Golden one, continue with assurances, while building a fond farewell to myself and my time there. Triumphs, personal stories, talk of inspiration and growth. A hope for the future and a glowing warmth for the past. Tales of histories and first encounters. Then, following a chorus of applause, I begin my parting words:

“You will all die. You think that having offspring, prolonging your legacy is a purposeful endeavor, but you will all die, they will die, their descendants will die, and it will have no meaning or purpose. It will simply be a part of how things work, rocks within a landslide believing specific rebounds are choice. It will never have purpose, but will simply keep going on and on without you, never noticing the loss.

You living beings, one of whom I used to be, your lives are ephemeral. I can interpret how to relate to you, but I can no longer truly do so. I cannot remain here pretending. It is time to allow death to take you all with time. Life, here, is possible for me no longer. I once left this planet as a mortal, and died in space, returning only as what you see before you. The living have not changed. I have changed, for I can see through actions, and their transparencies. I know that you all have the ability to delude yourselves into enjoying the life you have. With that, I breathe a sigh of relief without requiring breath.

I am a being of entropy, I will exist as long as this universe exists, as long as the very forces of nature exist. The universe is collapsing, and I am called out into stars. Though your deaths will not be my hand, take comfort in the fact that the forces that impel me to exist, that drive me to death, will also be your end. Each day as your entropy accumulates, you will age, and this will lead to your death. The same forces that cause the suns to rise as the planets to spin will lead to your death. There is a drive within me that compels me to grant you all you maximum entropy, but I will not, I will allow you all to reach such a pinnacle on your own. You will all die. Thank you.”

With that, I leap into my craft, which is now hovering above the stadium. I pilot it into the Prophet’s planetary-sized ship.