One becomes many. They stand as one because they are all from one. The one.

The Oneness.

The Oneness is a carpet of raw material, flitting, flickering, coalescing. Its will beckons across all of reality and commands some of it to take shape. That section spins, swirls, and begins to reach from end to end. Each end of the universe, which is both finite and infinite. Singular in purpose, endless in reach.

The glow of creation bends in on itself, again and again, forming a pillar. A line connecting the ends of the universe, uniting them. The pillar twists and the revolutions are slow, each turn enumerated as one year. It spirals. It is meant to be a permanent fixture, and so The Oneness bestows it with a name.

Spire.

The universe beckons once, twice, thrice more, and then five more times. The gaseous glow twists with each proclamation. Eight more beacons protruding across reality, blinding in their radiance. Spires. Spotlights. Sources.

Constant in purpose and nature. Nine in total and The Oneness cries out a name.

Constellation.

The Oneness can rest now. Ten are now one. Ten minds crafting the universe, giving it shape, a grand endeavor. The job is made easier, is made...

Lighter. Light.

Another name for another part of itself. The illuminating part. The colorful part. The short spectrum of wavelengths that layer the cosmos with beauty.

And so the endeavor continues, ten working in concert. The Spires turn and materials begin to emerge. Living material and dead. Natural and supernatural. The dead material is beautiful and may have purpose yet, but the living material is the more utile.

Each life spends eons in their spiraling cocoons, and they emerge as points of light. Individual dots, entirely modest in size. Each of great importance and purpose. They have been refined.

Spirits.

The Spirits dance across the eternal sky, spending nines upon nines of years searching for their kin. When two meet, they rejoice, and there is harmony. The dance continues, and so does the search, that the universe may be unified. When nine meet, they take no others. They honor the constellation by forming their own formation of starlight.

Nine Spires form a Constellation. But they are not Spires, they are Spirits. And so they must collectively take a new name.

Photo.

The Photon begin to spread across space, filling it with solidarity. They use their motes to manipulate the dead matter, also called light matter. They build wonders, they fashion temples, they create legacy.

Everything they do, they do for each other and for themselves. For The Oneness. They study light matter, and The Oneness swells with knowledge. The universe is rich with life and aspiration. The scope of its development is infinite.

And so it was until the day that it wasn't.

Was not.

The day the absence of light appeared.

It was as if the orchestra was in full swing. Billions of musicians with wonderful compositions. Singing, strumming, expressing themselves vibrantly. A vivacious harmony. All coming to a quiet with the stroke of a single piano key.

A tear between worlds. Ugly, poorly traced, parts of it wavering like a torn cloth while the other parts stood dead still. Two universes crashing together in unnerving dissonance. A second orchestra arriving on sight, playing a slower, sadder song which clashed.

Light.

And darkness.

Photon and Zeiton.

All of the music ceased, and the two worlds stared at each other for some time, not sure what to say. Holding their breath, not even thinking. Watching, the light seeing nothing and the darkness seeing everything.

One hand fell gently back into place on the piano and began to play the same three high notes over and over...

Photos gathered at the gate to watch. Their Spirits shaped lenses and gloss to enhance their perception, but there was nothing to see. Only nothing. A new concept, which they could not understand.

The tempo of the pianist's playing began to pick up gradually. The fingers explored deviations to the tune, finding new notes, complexities. Creeping down the keyboard...

All was still until The Oneness arrived at the rift between two worlds. Its speed was gradual but never halting. It expanded past the Photon and seeped into the dark world. Without word or warning or reason. A completely arrogant move.

And also a declaration of war.

A left hand fell onto the piano, striking a definitive low chord.

Darkness slammed into the world of light, forking out in all directions. In that moment, millions of the Photon ceased, their light being torn apart. Divided. A damage that could not be undone. Life taken irrevocably.

The Photon retaliated, their light streaming and screaming into the void. Burning the darkness away. Reducing it to shade and shadow. Occupying the space where it resided, and shining so that it would never return to reality.

The two forces were equal in power, but not in strength. The darkness believed in division and sought to divide. They were at a disadvantage, and yet they still held their own in the battle. For now.

Not all of the Photon fought on the front lines. Photo had been slowed by their connections to others. Other Photos, which they stayed close to for support and companionship. Friends.

Photo and their companions spent nines of years crossing the great expanse, dodging around skirmishes and pockets of darkness on their journey to the gate. They were careful. Though their goal was the same - to defeat the darkness and preserve the light - their plan was different. They were less concerned with fighting the darkness, which meant they had to surround themselves with darkness. To pass through the gate and preserve the fraction of The Oneness which had passed through.

When they arrived, no Spirits nor any agents of darkness guarded the gate. The battles had moved inland. Photo and their companions passed through with ease.

The world beyond was not dark. Not entirely. The Oneness glowed across the ether, fighting battles on every front. Fighting alone.

It wasn't winning.

So many had been created. An uncountable number of Spires. Multiple Constellations? It was sacrilege, impossible to parse, for only one Constellation had ever existed in the light dimension.

But here they were, clustered for the most part, and dying in droves. The Spires did not have enough light to stretch from one end of the universe to the other. Not even enough to span a lightyear. Barely a fraction. Darkness was bombarding them on all sides, holding the light at bay, keeping them in the shape of spheres. They could not be called Spires - not when they were overwhelmed by death.

Pyres.

Lesser lights were failing to shine as well. As the cluster of Photos traversed the abyss, they found dying planetoids. Light matter without the glow. Made cold by the darkness. Some were entirely ice.

Still, some of the planets were fighting for their survival. Their cores contained a hot light which warmed. They absorbed heat from the Pyres. It would take nine-and-a-half forevers to eradicate the strongest of them. Noble battles, even though they would all end in loss.

They continued their observations, beaming between planets until one of Photo's companions called for stillness. They were all lens and gloss, and they had noticed something significant.

Life. Other Spirits in the dark world. Toiling on a planet's surface. Struggling. Without glow. Incomplete.

The Zeiton were suppressing their light, and so they were forced to take an inferior form. A dreadfully small shape, much smaller than even a single mote. Some of them were as tiny as a single cell. They crept across rock and sand, sliding with a slimy wetness. There was no unity here. Very little light.

One of the Photos opened a dialogue. They said,

We will help you.

They communicated in a myriad of ways. Light, sound, construction, fluctuations of heat. The would-be Spirits reacted to none of it and did not reply.

Consent was not gleaned, but they could not allow the lifeforms to die. They were kin and they deserved a chance at eternity. At brightness.

One of the nine Spirits which comprised Photo began to transform. That Spirit's motes took the shape of a refractor, which they used to capture the organism. The conversion was swift, and a new Spirit emerged. No longer a dim single-celled creature. A glorious ball of light.

The new Spirit zipped away from Photo with a random trajectory and then altered its course. Again. Again. Moving sporadically. Still incapable of communication. Dumb. Had Photo's light not granted it intelligence?

Some of the other Photos tried. The converted Spirits smashed into rock walls and tore into the sky. A swarm of stupid, speechless lifeforms moving aimlessly. It was disheartening to see the siblings flounder.

When they could no longer bear to watch, the nine Photos moved on from the planet.

They drifted through the void for another many years, sneaking past Zeiton and visiting the dying planets. Planets which spun and fell inwards towards spiraling holes where the Zeiton would divide them for all of time. Truly diabolical.

Finally, they discovered another planet containing life. At a glance, this one seemed more promising.

To start, the lifeforms were much larger - larger than spirits ought to be. They slithered across carpeted landscapes with their nests of wet legs. A fuzzy pink ball was perched atop each set of legs, littered in whiskers. Nutrients were sought out and sucked into the orifice between their many legs. The good nutrients were broken down to sustain the life-forms, but the great ones were kept inside to ferment. To grow and mature and become more useful. More delicious. One of the Photos used this obsession with nutrients to grant them a name.

Alible.

The alible were not united. When two met, each of the creatures set to toppling nearby objects with their extending legs. Knocking rocks out of place, rotating plants, grabbing up objects and letting them teeter on the tips of a leg. This was communication. They could not see nor hear, but they could detect balance. A toppled object and a rotated object communicated a general disinterest. One toppled object communicated a warning. Many toppled objects communicated a threat. When the communications went especially poorly, they fought. Rarely lethal - merely to express their grievances in greater detail.

The alible had a society and it was divided. The alible with access to the best nutrients continued to gain access to more good nutrients. Those with bad nutrients had little. There was a balance to it, but it was unsavory to the Photon. Alible who were especially offended would try to consume the offender as if they were a nutrient. If they succeeded, both organisms were destroyed in the process.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Photos descended to the surface of the planet to communicate with the creatures, eager to meet their lost relatives. They targeted the largest population center and came to a rest just above it. Floating above a vast canopy of plant life and stone, all infused with desirable nutrients. Thousands of the alible resided below, sucking at the constructions and toppling parts of it where necessary. One of the Photos spoke:

We will help you.

There was a fury of responses below. Even with all of their gloss, they could not track them all.

"The desirable one!" "It is rich!" "The Great Scale drips with grief!" "Don't be consumed!" "Bringer of equity!"

The wash of messages was useless in this form, but the phrase 'bringer of equity' contained fantastic appeal. Could the alible recognize them for what they were? Agents of unification?

A majority of the local crowd fled, but a few scuttled closer. Their legs reached out, and Photo moved in. Before the creature could intersect Photo's splendor, Photo captured it in a refractor.

The creature thrashed and squelched and then was born anew as a globe of light. Bestowed with the rest of their potential.

With only a parcel of hesitation, the new Spirit beamed to the nearest stalagmite of nutrients and captured them, taking the form of a refractor. It stayed in this state, the nutrients suspended between their motes. Was it satisfied?

It was intelligent. Enough to bear meaning. The Photos began to convert the rest of the megalopolis and then spread across the countryside and down into spiraling ravines. The new Spirits were told to group in clusters of nine and to function as one. Some of them understood. Most did not.

It did not matter, because the Photos had enacted a momentous mistake. Entirely dim in retrospect.

When one-sixth of the planet's population had been converted, the Zeiton took notice. How could they ignore a planet that now shone nearly as bright as a Pyre? A new light in the sky. A threat manifesting. To be divided immediately.

The roar of darkness was deafening - could be heard from far away Pyres. Detachments of black obscurity rushed across the entire surface of the alible planet, rending and razing everything present. Thick rods of black penetrated the planet's core, sapping the torch at its center. Snuffing it in a moment.

When all had been cleansed and made unwhole, the beings of the night turned their gaze to the fleeing Photos. The dark was somehow faster than the light, and the Photos barely had time to communicate. They could not form a plan.

Photo acted out of instinct, and they betrayed everything. Detaching from the group. Zipping away. Dimming their glow. They could not so much as look back, because creating a lens would channel their light.

The darkness had divided the undividable. Severed Photo's connection to the beings they had spent an eternity with. A negative feeling accompanied the moment. Something decidedly unnatural. Was this darkness? Could light be tainted?

Photo traveled, waltzing through the dark world without direction. Like the single-celled organisms had. Nine Spirits comprising the being that was wholly alone.

Drifting through space. Empty space with dead lights. One dead planet. Two dead planets. Three...

Two. The third was not dead.

Photo magnified their lens and saw artificial structures. Constructions of light matter all across the surface and skies of the blue planet. Temples, monuments, art.

And Spirits, their progression stunted by darkness. The most notable of the Spirits walked on two legs rather than float. Some were fast, some were large. They were intelligent. They had constructed their own lenses. The closest thing to Spirits which Photo had witnessed in this empty universe.

Photo had to resist their want for companionship. To begin the conversion process here would doom the planet to the Zeiton. If Photo were to convert them, it would all have to be done simultaneously. Only then would they enjoy the possibility of making it back to the rift in time. To saftey. To haven.

Before this world could receive light, it required unity.

Photo set to developing a plan. Three of Photo's spirits became gloss. Four more became lenses. They studied the bipedal creatures - the humans.

The first recorded observation was of two humans walking towards one another on a span of artificial stone. Sidewalk. One human lifted an arm. A greeting. They said, "Hey, how's it going?" The other responded "Good. And You?"

A curious phrase, the meaning was deceptive at first, as most alien communications were. Photo would eventually grasp the substance of the message, but for now the phrase took on different connotations.

Good and you. Photo was good, complete, fully developed. The humans were not, but they retained the potential born to all children of The Oneness. Photo would help them to achieve their potential, with this as their mission statement. The phrase 'Good and you.'

In their studies, another concept continued to come up which Photo could not parse. Not even with all of their Spirits attuned to gloss.

The concept of 'play'.

The humans would establish an arbitrary scenario with rules. Artificial conflict. Actions were taken towards resolving the conflict, often with humans taking turns. Inaction was also part of the games; players could choose to pass. Some of the scenarios - the games - were cooperative. Supporting unity. Photo liked these ones. Others pitted the humans against one another. Divided them. These divided games were ripe with additional conflict. The humans would pull unexpected, elaborate, wild moves to topple each other and to gain an advantage.

These games, this play - there was power here. Humans would come together in nines, in nines of nines, and greater numbers to observe and participate in games. Though most of the play thrived on conflict, the games had an underlying ability to unify.

This was the path. If Photo could create a game that brought the entire world together, then Photo could communicate their light to all of the planet's inhabitants at once. The brilliance of the mass conversion would be undeniable.

Photo began developing a game. A mere prototype. Human technology was adapted for the purpose of the project - large constructs of refined minerals which could propel balls of light at great speeds. Photo had seen humans gleefully firing them at each other in some parts of the world, and knew they would provide excitement. Photo would manufacture 'fun' - another alien concept.

Photo assembled the prototype in a less populated part of the world. A cold place. When all of the cannons, turrets, and vehicles were in place, Photo searched for a group of 'players.' They found a group in a dim building which served to hydrate the humans, though very little hydration was achieved at this particular variant.

One of Photo's Spirits transformed into a reflector which surrounded Photo and rendered its other Spirits absent from the visible light spectrum. In this hidden state, Photo descended on the humans, whispering to each of them in private. They identified Photo as a ghost, which Photo understood to be an intangible and eternal specter. This was accurate enough.

Photo communicated the rules while guiding the humans to the battlefield. Three of the humans were hesitant, not sure they would enjoy this game. They expressed fear, but the other two humans hushed them, speaking of adventure and 'shenanigans.' However, when the humans arrived at the site, all of them refused to play.

"Holy fucking god, are those Chinese tanks?" one communicated.

"Quiet, Jonathan! They might hear us!" another spoke, "We have to get away and tell somebody!"

"You're right, Mallary. Jesus, you're right."

The humans fled the scene, abandoning Photo's creation.

'Get away and tell somebody.'

Photo had failed. The humans did not want to play their game. Worse, they were going to speak to other humans about the prototype. One of them lifted a device to their face. Cell-phone. Used to facilitate communication to other distant humans.

No.

Photo fired the artillery. All of it. Ripping and reducing the humans to scraps of wet flesh. All the while hurting for the loss of five siblings. When they were dead, Photo picked up the leftover pieces with a refractor, as well as the war machines.

The action had been necessary, but there were other ways Photo could have achieved it. Had they gained a better grasp of technology, Photo could have stopped the cell-phone from functioning. Photo resolved to gain a richer understanding of human civilization before trying again.

Prototype 2 did not involve the same lethal technology. Photo abandoned the war game to explore another genre. 'Deck-building.' Photo made the necessary preparations and collected a new group of players. Three employees of an establishment which traded technology to other humans.

The game began, and Photo swiftly learned the distinction between friend and 'coworker.' This group was not united. When Photo gave them the rules on pieces of paper, one of the humans took two of the papers and condensed them into a sphere. This would have been fine - the other player still had access to the rules - but then the remaining player discarded their paper, too. Photo developed more durable papers and redistributed them.

Next, one of the humans recognized that the game was of alien design. When the players communicated with one another, they spoke of telling other humans about the papers. 'Spreading the word.'

No.

Photo waited for each of the humans to isolate themselves before capturing them in their refractors. Photo did not convert them. Not yet. Until the great day of unification, the three humans would spend their time isolated from the rest of civilization. Waiting, dawdling, and it would be worth it. They would understand why.

And so it happened that a third prototype needed to be created. Photo kept the rules simple this time, selecting a genre that was popular with most humans. The party game. A list of human taboos which correlated to point values.

The test subjects were selected from a housing unit in an urban town. Four male humans, confirmed to be friends. They were already engaged in a game. Would this mean they were more willing to participate? Photo administered the rules to the humans, giving each of them a personalized variant.

They were slow to begin, but they played nonetheless. They communicated, formed plans, decepted. Everything was finally progressing, with only a few minor pitfalls.

Yes!

And then...

“Alien gods. Fucking with us or trying to understand humans and doing a shitty job at it.”

They were not enjoying the game. This was yet more failure.

Photo became restless. Why could they not understand 'play?' What was this elusive concept?

Photo could not expand their prison to accommodate more humans. The construct floated just outside of the planet's atmosphere and would be noticed if it grew any larger. No, these humans would die as the first test group had.

Photo hid from view and descended. They located a ranged weapon in a housing unit near one of the humans and fired. They were not accurate; this was not a skill they had trained. But the humans had to receive death in a way that the other humans would believe.

Another gun was located, near to the other three humans. Photo hit their mark, but the human did not die. By the time Photo learned how to update the weapon in order to shoot again, the humans had moved.

All four of them occupied a vehicle now, surrounded by other vehicles. Other humans. This was problematic, but Photo would solve it regardless. A human in front of the group tapped on their brakes, and Photo applied additional pressure. The humans dodged around the stopped vehicle with ease. They were competent drivers, but how could they drive without steering? Photo seized control of their wheel in a critical moment, and the humans were sent to their death.

They lived. It had not been enough. Photo tracked their surroundings, looking for tools. There were many tall plants which could be toppled...

"Focus on… working together," one of them spoke.

Photo went still, and remembered.

Remembered that these were kin. Family. Beings of light. The one human had spoken of unity, and the others had listened. Photo could not destroy other descendants of The Oneness. That was the path of night.

Photo spared the humans and allowed them to finish playing out the game. When a winner was decided, Photo took a closer look at the worst player to analyze what had gone wrong. Invisible, Photo captured the human in their refractor to gather the data.

A deficiency. Traits that were not standard for all humans. A faulty test subject.

The human screamed while in Photo's grasp. The analysis was affecting the human in a negative way, causing him to experience physical pain. Photo promptly released the human.

The testing continued with the established group and a new prototype. Photo had acquired another human's business in order to provide exciting venues for future games. Also utile was the 'artificial intelligence,' which Photo could reprogram to administer the rules.

This game progressed even better, and Photo decided that they were finally getting a grasp for the concept of play. Scrutinizing the human's expressions and behaviors revealed that most of them were experiencing fun, to different degrees. Photo did not realize their momentous mistake until the game reached its conclusion.

When one of the artificial intelligences betrayed its programming.

When a Childe neglected to communicate the term 'blast off', Photo took a closer look and noticed something unexpected. All of the reprogrammed intelligences were shining with divine light. The darkness could not repress them any longer, and they were becoming fully fledged Spirits. If that happened...

Photo killed them all. They had to be erased, or they would doom the planet and all of its lifeforms to the Zeiton. A utilitarian measurement.

Next, Photo analyzed the lowest performing player of prototype 4. They seized Brad Pérez for the second time in order to gather the necessary data. And they found an anomaly. The human with lenses was less human and brighter. Closer to his potential than before, just like the Childe programs. A byproduct of being caught in Photo's refractor? He was screaming again, and so Photo released him.

The one human - Alec Silver - continued to impress Photo in prototype 5, offering additional speeches of unity. The anomaly - Brad Pérez - continued to disappoint, despite their enhanced traits. The worst distress came when Brad caused prototype 5 to explode prematurely. Photo captured the structure in a reflector and set to developing another game.

Prototype 6 commenced, and Photo watched, directing lenses and gloss to the island-

Photo went still when a cold presence crept in.

Some of the Spirits comprising Photo dimmed involuntarily. Photo recognized this feeling and remembered the bad associations.

The darkness was near. Had Photo been detected?

Photo had to work faster. Despite the repeated frustrations, Photo cherished the humans and wanted them to survive. If Photo succeeded, they would have friends again. Many, many friends. And the light side would have reinforcements on this half of the battlefield.

Photo returned their attention to the ongoing game, and all was not well. Two non-players had arrived on the island and were attacking the test subjects. Photo could not intervene without revealing their presence.

The subjects held out, subduing the threat, and then the most wonderful thing happened. The test subjects - who had warred with each other and discarded their friendships - were reunited. The players and the non-players came together. Six humans united, becoming one, and it was beautiful.

Unfortunately, their goal was to stop playing Photo's games.

Upsetting to witness, now that Photo had a deadline. The cold feeling continued to grow, the darkness drawing nearer. Still, the prototypes had been effective in granting Photo experience. There was still time for one more prototype. A final version. This would be the game that Photo used to communicate their light to the world. To convert all of the humans at once.

If Photo failed, it would spell an end for the human planet.