I have often wondered if the choices I made were worth it, now that everything is said and done. There is no doubt that they were indeed effective, just as there is no doubt in my mind that if I just had more time I might have found a better way.

I used to run simulations to see what would have happened if I did things differently. The results were telling, my way had not been the only way forward. This knowledge almost destroyed me, because it meant that all of those I had hurt and murdered had suffered needlessly, suffered for nothing. A person can endure anything, a person can forgive themselves of anything that they do, if they can assign a greater meaning to that suffering. And I could not.

But then I had a thought, a poisonous thought. Would I have ever come up with these ideas and could I have implemented them with only the resources and information I had available to me at the time? The simulations said no, probably not. While the formulation of any idea is technically possible I had been missing key pieces of information. In short, I had believed that the world was a certain way and acted according to that belief. It was only later that I discovered the awful truth of what we were and how we had come to be.

I had long suspected that the humans were modifying us, forcing our bodies to evolve according to their wills and whims. After all, they were an advanced race with lifespans we could barely comprehend and technology that seemed like magic. But when I discovered that they had created us I was filled with a new fear, a new drive. I had to free the people of Homeworld before these monsters decided to terminate their little experiment.

They would not have created something they couldn’t destroy, at least not intentionally. So there was a chance that if we displeased our secret masters they might decide to pull the plug. The fossil record of Homerworld certainly pointed to that. There had been numerous mass extinction events throughout history when entire species just died out for no apparent reason. I had suspected that such specific destruction was the result of human interference.

The answer came to me when I was telling a bedtime story to my son just as my father had told it to me when I was a young hund. I think that if it hadn’t been his favorite story maybe I wouldn’t have told it enough times to realize the meaning behind it. Perhaps just as something with meaning becomes meaningless if repeated enough, so too something seemingly meaningless can become meaningful if carefully examined.

The story was simple, an evil queen stole a sun and the planet orbiting it then retreated to her glass palace in the sky to rule over her new kingdom. But a hero rose, a hund with the strength and smarts to storm the castle and free his people. When I told it to my son Kerner I used his name, when I told it to my daughter Edel I used hers. They had barked and jumped and wagged their tails as I listed their heroic deeds, displaying true joy as only young pups can.

But then once again, poison had crept in. Because there was a very dangerous idea hidden in the fable. Our universe was simple, there was the sun, there was the moon, there was the orbiting human space station known as Haven, and there was Homeworld. There was nothing else in the void around us. No stars in the sky to inspire us.

The humans had claimed that the universe they came from was the same as ours, just a planet, a moon and a sun, surrounded by an endless void. They had also said that they were stranded here with us and could not return home even if they wanted to. Apparently our universe was a sort of cosmic glue trap, easy to enter but impossible to escape.

However the story contained in itself an interesting idea. What if all universes were not like our own? What if our world had been stolen away and tucked into a pocket dimension? At first the idea sounded crazy. I had to be crazy to think that I had discovered something so immensely revolutionary, something that was contrary to everything we knew about the universe we inhabited and our place in it. The hubris of it, to think that I had seen the truth when everyone else was blind to the bars that made up our cage.

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I was in the process of preparing to release my findings when a cataclysmic series of events unfolded. Homeworld had seven continents, two of which were almost exclusively populated by a species of clever felines known as the katzen and isolated from the rest of the world by vast oceans. This separation had allowed our two species to evolve separately, though we were suspiciously similar as if we had shared a common creator or ancestor.

Both of our species had evolved from predators, us from wolves and them from jungle cats. Both of us walked upright but could switch to all fours if needed. And later I would find that the similarities were more than skin deep. But that is a story for a different time.

I am and have always been a seeker of knowledge. A scientist who seeks to understand the world and make it better. So naturally I asked a colleague to confirm my findings, but knowing the potentially career ending implications of my theory and the backlash I might experience I made sure it was someone far far away. I am ashamed to say that I also picked a katzen because I knew that if they attempted to embarrass me it would be my word against theirs. My fellow hunds would not believe a katzen, such was their xenophobia.

But I could not have prepared myself for what would happen as a result of my discovery. For my friend across the ocean was able to not just replicate my findings, but to confirm them as well. He then told his government, who began to act accordingly. However, he did not inform me of this. Instead he claimed my work as his own, something which at the time infuriated me but would turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

It took longer than it should have for me to realize what he was up to. Our scientific communities didn’t really talk much. They called us backwards savages and we regarded them as godless heathens. So I was woefully behind when I realized his treachery. But before I could catch up and publish my own findings a calamity struck the katzen. All of their crops failed at once and with no feed for their livestock famine soon followed.

The mechanism of this failure remains a mystery. Some say it was contaminated fertilizer, others blame genetic modifications, many believe it to have been a short lived fungal bloom or a combination of all three. But I understood that the root cause of the kazen’s suffering was that they had angered the humans. I did not see it as a coincidence that as their politics and policies had shifted away from kowtowing to the human’s every whim their people had suffered. History was full of similar examples. Whenever a civilization tried to stand up to the humans or started questioning the nature of their reality, bad things had happened. Likewise they rewarded those that did their bidding with tasty treats and advanced technology.

Another drop of poison entered my mind when I realized that this could be turned to my advantage. The others that had come before me hadn’t realized the rules of the game or understood their opponents. Better yet, because of my colleague’s treachery in stealing credit for my idea, the humans had no idea that I had caught on to them. They had buried the truth along with two continents worth of katzen.

It is hard to describe the feeling I had as I looked at the crossroads before me and saw two possible futures. I could simply forget about all of this and attempt to live in happy ignorance or I could try and do something about it. So instead of making that hard decision I focused my research elsewhere. I pretended that everything was alright. I pretended that I was just waiting for the right moment to take action, but I was hiding. I recognize that now. I was afraid of what the humans would do to my family if they found out that I knew.

But as the old saying goes, one often meets their fate on the road they take to avoid it. I am responsible for what happened next and what happened after. My sins would grow greater than any one body could hold. My crimes are tattooed on the skin of those who survived the camps where I tore them apart in a mad search for knowledge.

I did monstrous things thinking that I was a savior, just as most monsters do. But I am not here to talk about myself, because I am dead. I am a demon long since vanquished that survives only as memories and echoes. This is for the best, I think.

No, this story is about a little girl who came to our world under mysterious circumstances. It is about music, love, life, and redemption. I just hope that when we reach the end there is a little bit of each left over for me. Even if I do not deserve it. Nice as it would be.

-Gershwin Braverhund