JOURNEY'S END
Of all the shapes She traced at the beginning,
the sphere is perfect from all sides,
spinning, yet still.
Only She on high may examine it in full:
from above and below,
front and back,
left and right,
all at once.
Her first act of grace, then, was:
to nudge it with but a finger,
leaving it to turn about its axis,
so the moon may see it in all its beauty.
- Myrmidon 1:2 (Exaltation of the New Century Version)
ALICE
It was a marvellous planet teeming with life, located right within the Goldilocks zone of its host star—yet the seeding was long and arduous. Twenty years for the foetuses to incubate and be memory-written, and a few months to seed them in groups across the planet; humans function best in small clans. They adapted quickly to their new world, as expected. After they established primitive cave-dwellings and learned to hunt with whatever they had on hand, I visited each settlement to show them fire. Then, tools of stone and iron. Finally, the wheel. All within a week.
The sheen of my ship’s overengineered hull stunned them into submission. The neo-humans, who saw me and my ship as some sort of supernatural presence, made good use of my gifts and flourished as we must have once did. From caves they progressed to huts, from huts to hamlets, and from hamlets to towns. Life, in its entirety, was going smoothly.
“I do,” the couple said in unison, basked in light made holy by the stained-glass window it filtered through. They leaned into an embrace and kissed, drawing scattered applause from the pews. It echoed through the cathedral, growing louder and more raucous and coloured with laughter, the air swelling with the same joy that yearned to burst from the hearts of both groom and bride.
I gazed upon this precious sight from a mezzanine far above. Early in their development, I had realised something. Despite how far they had progressed technologically their savagery still showed in how they loved: in a manner devoid of love. They merely bred. I took it upon myself to teach them to love—to find beauty in all things, starting with each other. It only took a small nudge and a bit of divine masquerade to preach and convince them there was purpose beyond rutting like dogs. The customs and traditions and ceremonies, they came up with on their own—because there is beauty in all things, and where there is none, we cannot help but conjure it from thin air.
This was the first marriage to occur on this planet, and in grand fashion. How lucky! Many would follow. In time they would learn to love and seek love from each other rather than my holy, sporadic presence. I could not watch over them forever, and so I did not. No fanfare marked my departure; they were far too busy. Some sought adventure, their starry eyes cast heavenward, but many looked warmly now towards their immediate family.
The sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky scarlet and the streets in shadow. Cosy cottages lining the streets lit up one by one with the soft glow of candlelight filtering through their windows. Lazy trails of smoke wafted from chimneys. The bustling afternoon streets had fallen still save for a few roaming packs of children who dared play past dinnertime. This was a peaceful town of warm homes and warm food, wishing only for their happiness to last.
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There was no room for me here, with a face not unlike the mythical angel they called God. I had long since stopped helping them—my direct intervention ceased after they became self-sufficient in their caves. Only when things were dire did I nudge them from the shadows, staying incognito. Best that I remained as myth, painted on cave walls and glass windows. There was no need to redirect their love. And so I retreated to a nearby mountain range. A vast cave system had formed here quite conveniently, with space even for me to land my ship in a cleverly obscured clearing.
I lay on the bluegrass outside, Oracle hovering beside me. “We did well, don’t you think?” I looked up and traced lines between the stars. Despite how much this planet’s changed, they haven’t moved a bit.
“By the letter. They’ve hit critical mass and should require no further supervision.”
It hurt, hearing it so bluntly. “So? Now what? What about us?”
“Now, we wait. Like we did before we arrived.”
I sighed, my breath laced with both satisfaction at what I had made and regret that it now stood on its own. “And you’re fine with that? I… Well, you’re a ship. Connected to one, at least. Built to withstand any test of time, they said,” I scoffed. “This is what you’re made for, then.”
“Concord will not last forever. Does that help?”
“What?” I sat up, Oracle hovering eye-to-eye.
“They too will need an ark one day. You wish to feel useful, no? They will need you, to pilot me,” he said, his tone resonating slightly near the end. I had been around him long enough to understand. He is Mobius—not his appendage or peon, but two of the same mind. I offended him.
“They shouldn’t need me—us. I don’t want them to die.”
“But they do. Look at how they butcher their own.”
“War is different—”
“Butchery takes on many forms, not just prancing with swords.” Oracle leaned forward in the air to elaborate but recovered immediately, his sigil dimming slightly: a rare sign of emotion. “Nevertheless. Humanity lacks the key to defeating the Great Filter.”
“Which is?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Eternal life. Nobody plants trees in whose shade they will never sit. Cells in bodies: they lack ego, do as they are bid, die quietly, free from the burden of asking why. But humans”—he orbited my head once—“are greater than the sum of their parts. They greed, so there can only be room for one. How ironic, then, that it takes two to mate.”
The air grew thicker and more stifling, though only to me, Oracle being cold steel. “Where does that leave me? Am I not human?” I asked, regretting it immediately. I braced for the answer I already knew, leadened by Oracle’s clinical tongue.
“Of course not. You have not aged a day since we arrived. What are you, if not a god, built to withstand any test of time? The water flea and the human—both are blips on the chronology we operate on.”
I lay on the ground, hugged by bluegrass that yielded under my back and wrapped gently around my limbs. “Then I will watch and wait. But they look and sound so alike… I cannot bring myself to see them as fleas. Even if, as you say, they make their own fate.”
I think back to the bride and groom and how they kissed on the dais, how the light filtered through the glass and lit up every cheering face in the pews, how it reflected and silhouetted the new couple as though affirming their vows. There was beauty in it. Ephemeral, yes, but to seek it, to conjure it, to reach for it, knowing it must be repaid in death leaving them nothing—I cannot help but love them. I envy them. Loving what you are guaranteed to lose is devotion I will never know, as I am eternal, and cannot be lost.