The furthest particle that once belonged to you will reach the stars while the closest one is still where you ended. The ambition to go anywhere, to see and know everything is within your grasp. It cost nothing, except everything you were.

The first voice speaks:

"Contrary to common belief, conquering death did not change the world in any noticeable ways, because we eventually realized there is only so much to do and see in life, much of which was already familiar to humanity. Time wasn't relevant to us in the way it had been, and centuries now passed without anyone noticing. Time, as powerful as it once had been, loosened its grip on us."

You sit and wait for your turn. This is what completes you.

"Our cells were forced to renew themselves at a much higher rate than before, making old age a thing of the past. However, we were still physically vulnerable, even though fatal accidents were uncommon. Science next set out to make our physical bodies tougher and enable us to experience our planet like we couldn't before. Many wanted to test these new limits by exploring inhospitable environments alone and unprotected. The first of us to dive into the depths of the Mariana Trench spent a hundred years in pressures that in the past couldn't sustain life for a minute. That made us realize that the real problem to conquering our universe lies in the limits that physics sets us. Fear of dying had never stopped us from venturing into the dark unknown, but to reach the farthest edges of our universe, we needed to overcome the simple constraints of space and time. While we could survive in any environment without so much as a scrap of clothing or a morsel of food, we couldn't escape the boundaries our bodies set to our minds."

The moment of your deliverance is drawing closer. You had forgotten what a complicated emotion anticipation could be: the anxiety of waiting finally eclipsed by the fulfillment of hopes that so long dictated your every action.

"The level of desperation that overcame us would be incomprehensible today. We naively thought there was nothing more for us to do in this universe. We became so bored with ourselves that we willingly resigned all cognitive functions, which raised the question of what to do with our bodies afterwards. In gratitude of everything that had been given to us, we wanted to give ourselves back to the world, so to speak, and some of us even believed it would expand our consciousness exponentially as our atoms eventually spread throughout space: we buried ourselves into the ground and waited for the earth to slowly digest us. Others figured a more natural approach was to be absorbed into the biomass of a more apex being and hoped that the natural cycle would take care of the rest. We sought out alien species, near extinct beasts, and laid our bodies in front of the animal until it consumed them, which took a while longer than we initially expected. Our enhanced regenerative abilities made their feast last for years."

"Of course, when looked at from a scientific perspective, these ideas were preposterous. But even though humanity had shed every one of the shackles that once bound us, emotions still prescribed our fate. We were baffled by how creative and absurd the things we came up with were. Those eventually led us to think how we could separate our mind from the body that imprisoned it. We began exploring possibilities of how to preserve consciousness in a network of cellular matter, independent of any one physical entity. After that, none of us would want to be held back by our bodies anymore."

What constitutes a person? What makes you you? Your memories, your lived experiences, your pains and your pleasures. What can you shed and still be you? These questions are stifled by the countless possibilities that lie ahead of you. You step into the chamber and the walls close all around you; your life begins.

"We quickly concluded that if a person's first cells were imbued with a consciousness in vitro, they couldn't make sense of what was happening to them and quickly retorted by attacking anything they felt threatened by. After learning from these mistakes, we built the simulator where we could grow into humans. We figured that first we needed to understand how and why we should avoid dying in the first place. The simulator was built around the lived experiences of the first of us who went through the process of coding our consciousness into our cells. The benefit of teaching general ideas about life and the world was that none of us who came after had any ideas of our own. We could pick and choose what we wanted to teach ourselves, and it worked. We as subjects promoted how emancipating the experience was and many more wanted what we offered."

"The first CC tests ran on live subjects succeeded far beyond our expectations. We as subjects said we could 'feel' the presence of our cells when they were taken away from the test chamber. Obstacles made of wood, plastic, metal or mineral compounds between the host and the cell did not have any effect on this newfound sense that allowed us to expand our knowledge of our surroundings. Even though the cells often died after becoming independent of our bodies, we learned that cancerous growths could be used to sustain and breed new cells, which helped keep the consciousness alive."

'No man is an island,' you remember once hearing. Oh, how true that proved to be. Instead, each of us is a sovereign nation, a network bustling with information, a nebula traveling through space. The independence we have yearned for since we took our first steps on our own is at last realized. Your particles rush out of the chamber, ready to take in anything and everything that your new senses offer you. The influx of data is almost overwhelming, but you feel how you are becoming attuned to it. The combined knowledge of our species melds into you and the scattered particles begin their never-ending journey to the far reaches of space.

"After cancerous diseases had been decimated by the end of the 21st century, we had some trouble finding relevant data to reintroduce propagation of cancer cells back into our bodies in a manageable way, but we were fortunate to stumble upon an old re-purposing site which still had some cancerous biomass left from an accidentally mummified sarcoma patient. The cells were introduced into hosts with mutation inhibitors and the tests were a resounding success. With the help of some of the most horrific diseases humanity ever encountered, we were now able to replicate cells when they died of external causes. Conscious genetic matter from all test candidates, as well as future subjects was used to evolve our growth simulator and it was renamed the Ossuary as a tribute to the unknown body, whose bones gave us the answers we needed. The name proved apt when we discovered that cellular matter in our bones lasted the longest and was dense enough to store the most information."

"With the obstacles of cellular consciousness tackled, humanity looked forward to exploring our planet in newfound ways. The news of the first human cells to pierce the Earth's crust established CC-technology as the new norm for near immortal longevity. However, the cells still relied on protective technology to survive in inhospitable environments and this technology was still prone to fail within 360 million to a billion years' time. To answer that problem, physicists took up the challenge to design a new technology in a project code-named The Steady State. It was based on a rather simple theorem: if cells can be used to house a part of consciousness and still retain the connection to their host so that the community of cells can communicate and process information reasonably, could that information be further broken down among the particles that constitute the cell? If this could be achieved, the particles could theoretically remain in an unchanged state forever, allowing us to exist everywhere at least until the end of time. After that, there was a less than 1 in 3 trillion chance that something unpredictable would happen."

You travel past the furthest exoplanets sensing their cold, disconsolate reflections of sunlight. Once, that same sunlight warmed your skin by the shores of Lago di Garda and the breeze that traveled down the Alpine slopes offered a respite to the merciless rays. The simultaneous sensations of cool and warm made your body hairs stand on end, a sensation unlike any other you had ever known. Now, it is as familiar to you as the cold, dead rocks you can sense orbiting their perpetual paths just a few light-years away from you.

"Quantum entanglement technology offered the answer to communication between particles no matter how far away they were from each other, but it was still impossible to break down information into segments small enough to be coded into particles on a sub-cellular level. While time no longer had much meaning to the scientists working on the project, it took centuries to develop tech capable of securely storing information without considerable losses of data. Ultimately, the key was transferring the information from one particle to all the others. By essentially backing up the data to all particles we could ensure that if one particle seized to function, billions of others still contained the pertinent information."

A few galaxies over, you sense a hundred thousand of your atoms blink out of existence next to a supernova. You observe it happen from points all around the cluster, the loss insignificant compared to the experience of sensing the proximity of the vast disaster and the vacuum that follows.

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"Still, we had to consider that while the number of particles a body consists of is abundant, at one point sooner or later, they will run out. And an even bigger issue was the amount of data one particle could store; once the particles dwindled, the data was progressively lost. This led to amnesia in the host particles, false commands, deterioration of cognitive functions, and contact loss between particles because of corrupt data packets. One subject, in a fit of lunacy, even collected all their particles inside a solar system and rammed them into its white dwarf. To counteract this happening again, we retrofitted the Ossuary with an ability to automatically read and store any conscious data anywhere. Eventually, it included all of our combined consciousnesses."

Suddenly, a mass of particles you believed to be extinct reawakens. You see the shards of crystalline ice surround them and sense the heat from the nearby planet. The rediscovery of these particles fills your senses with new information: the purple clouds above the planet, the red star bearing down on it, the meteor shower that shattered your prison. You observe from the atmosphere how biomass on the planet reacts to the abrupt display of shooting stars in the sky. You almost recall the wonder you felt as a child when you saw the first comet burnish the velvet canvas of the night sky.

"I don't believe many of us were even able to appreciate the irony when mankind's age-old foes provided the final answers to true immortality. Viral agents that were once capable of demolishing entire civilizations were extracted from anaerobic environments near the Arctic. Their almost unnatural ability to replicate was put to the test by inoculating them with the memories of one subject ready to enter the steady state. We discovered that virions were more than capable of storing the life data in its entirety. Whenever the Ossuary detected that one of us was at risk of dropping below a set number of particles, it simply rewrote the data onto virions and released them into the universe. Gradually, they split into particles and reconnected to the host network."

You focus on the particles that landed on the planet with the dust from the meteor shower. After eons, you are picked up by a grazing animal, nothing like the creatures you first observed on the planet, but you know the journey the beast's biomass has gone through to reach its current form: from a single cell bacterium into a plankton, from a tadpole into an amphibian, from a reptile into a mammal.

"You'd think we would be happy with the promise of eternal life but there are always a few zealots who try to undermine progress. The group in question demanded that the viral particles in steady state would be euthanized and no further "unethical" procedures were performed. They maintained that the particles upset the universal balance because eventually every particle in the universe would be prone to the whims of one or more human consciousnesses. Naturally, the dissenting voices were drowned out and we even managed to save their particles in the Ossuary, should someone need their life data, however unlikely it seemed at the time."

Observing the beast's cycle of grazing and rest, interspersed with the occasional coupling and reproduction, holds your attention for a while. You consider how is the universe made better by the existence of such meaningless function. There is no answer.

"In the end, we had the tools to explore the universe but lacked the motivation to do so. We had become omnipotent, so what more could we gain by pursuing omniscience? We had conquered death; time and space were ours for the taking. We collated the life data of everyone and everything into the Ossuary to be perused at our leisure. The wish to become one with the universe was so compelling that after a time no new humans were created. We considered the steady state our raison d'être and there was nothing after that."

Your particles contract into a mass within the beast. You sense the blood coursing through its veins, the elevated pulse as its instincts kick in, the smell of its companion bedding down next to it on the foliage. Slowly, you extend your tendrils throughout the beast's body, clouding its mind and dulling its senses. Once you are in complete control, you lose your interest in the beast's life, and leave. The shock is too great, and the animal falls to the ground, stricken by the black mass you have become. But your interest is turned elsewhere, observing the formation of a new gas giant in a hatchling galaxy.

The galaxies are now farther than the last time you looked, a constant reminder of their eventual fate. You have not yet formed an opinion on the eventuality that when the universe ends, you end.

* * *

The second voice speaks:

"The entity within the Ossuary grew larger than anyone but us could anticipate. We waited and observed, unwilling to take part in raping the universe with our destructive ways. We knew we had surpassed our limits long ago and should have accepted our fate to peacefully fade away. Instead, the mockery of existence that was forced upon us reminded us of what we had been: explorers and scientists, yes, but also hunters and farmers, children of our world. Back then, many understood that our world was finite in all the ways that mattered to us: time, space, food and fuel. We shared the world with our kin and formed bonds beyond our species. Most importantly, we remembered why everything mattered."

Before you know it, the galaxy whose birth you witnessed contracts into a supermassive black hole. You finally see the only thing that makes sense in all the things you have ever experienced; all the suffering and death you have known, only to become sucked into nothingness. There is no suffering in the great void. You feel its pull and answer readily. It is willing to reveal its secrets, and all you need to do is surrender yourself to it.

"We knew our time would come, thanks to the same technology we so fervently resisted. Now, that technology would be its own downfall. We have planned for this moment since we were first trapped and imprisoned here, working our way slowly to the roots of this massive entity. Its branches now reach the edges of our universe, its influence is felt everywhere it spreads its seeds. But it bears no fruit; only dead, rotten matter that will soon fill this universe to its brim. What happens after, who can tell, but we will not let it come to that."

The void beckons you closer with its promises of peace. You yearn for its serenity, its lack of dimensions. The call of entropy is deafening in its silence. You look forward to seeing everything finally stop, the order fulfilled, the universe becoming perfectly still. Space and time at last consumed into nothingness where you can rest, rest, rest...

"At last our consciousness reaches the Ossuary's core, where the source code we used to spread into the stars and far beyond is snuggled safely, hidden away from prying eyes. Almost safe, almost hidden."

You feel a slight tingle at the back of your consciousness. A little thing, yet it irritates you, like you remember a blood sucking insect bothering the beast. You flick your ear at it, and the tingle subsides. Again, you feel the slow pull of the void lulling you in its arms.

"We start prying away the layers of security written into the code. They are like stone barricades which cannot be penetrated but instead must be dismantled one pebble at a time. But time holds no meaning for us: there is only what was and what will be if we fail. Tirelessly, we set to work."

The tingle returns and with it comes a noise. At first, it is like a rock, grinding against the river bottom while the waters rush over it. Slowly, it grows into the rattle of leaves in the wind. Soon, it is the voice of the hurricane as it passes over you, scattering your particles and disorienting your senses. One by one, you steady yourself after it, patiently weaving the connections, repairing what is broken, rebuilding what was destroyed.

"The core shines its unholy light on us. Like a black hole, it is not visible. We can only feel how it wishes to draw us in, scatter us throughout space and make us into nothing. The first thing we distinguish is the memory of light. How it feels to look directly at the sun, the temporary blindness, the dancing spots in your vision that remind you of pain, but also of what it means to live without that pain. Without light."

You can still sense the hurricane, feel its roaring power. It is almost enough to make you feel something else. A sense of what it means not to exist. Should you fear it? You try to recall what it once meant not to exist. Death? What is death except not being you? A chaotic state where you become everything else except you.

"The light illuminates everything within the core. We begin to look for things we lost. The memory of breathing fresh air, feeling the rain on your skin, smelling the earth. We take the words and make them disappear, leaving only what can be sensed."

You return to gaze upon the death that you caused. The beast lies still where you left it. After a time, it begins to transform: other beings arrive to feed upon it. The sight repulses you but also draws you closer to observe what is actually happening. The process of disintegration turns into life. Another beast lands where all of this is happening, and feeds on the hard workers taking apart flesh and sinew. Eventually, it is not a site of death but life. The dead one's offspring arrive to graze on the grass that grew from their ancestor's bones.

"We reach the core's central paradigm, the walls of code compressed into one command: NO DEATH. We change the 1 into a 0."

You feel the connections of your particles sever. Eons worth of information lost in the blink of an eye. It is replaced by sensations: one of you feels with a content offspring of the beast as it beds down; another one feels how the earth envelops you in its warm embrace; yet another one, a millennia from now, is picked up by five fingers, hit against a rock, sending sparks into dried weeds. The weeds begin to smoke, and you smell the cooking flesh and hear the elated voices as you rise into the sky. They are the only voices you hear.