The Account of a Lifetime

July 12, 2011

A Conclave of Elder Things

Filed under: Visions of the future — xisor @ 1:37 am

The vast tetrahedral fortress ploughed the gas-filled void. Some light years distant, in the heart of the stellar remnant, the soon-fusing cores of a dozen proto-stars were coalescing. Shockwaves and pressure-fronts cascaded around the ship. Less than a speck in the grand dance of the universe, it nevertheless was an eternal fulcrum, an anvil of creation and repository of life in a near barren expanse of the world.

The biconal seminary hosted a collection of beings. Two sat roughly opposed on silent, motionless thrones of stone, pulsing eathly energies from within their hieroglyph and geometrically adorned exteriors. Around them clustered coteries of beings, members of younger races, their mentors, the scriveners and bio-technicians who commanded the flow of energies throughout the vessel, a great garden of flora and fungi covered the available surfaces. Several of the delegate-elders were near-catatonic in their contemplations of the birthing-clouds extending for dozens of light years from the ship in all directions, their mental exertions brushing lightly against the thoughts of others, mere eddies and whorls in the seminary’s discourse.

The upper of the two focal beings raised a pseudopod, one of many. It writhed and flickered, a flagrant gesticulation conveying an highly nuanced outrage.

+Master Qavarit, be calmed,+ willed the other, raising a paw in deference. +The will of the red hand is naught here, I will not see this creation overturned by talk of threats perforating the rim of the Way. +

The gangling ursid, a communary of the collective attending this nebula and nebulae like it across the entire depth of the Way, saw little value in creation of forthright tools, of precision purposes for the legacy it engendered. Purpose could be cultivated, encouraged to emerge. Such conceit where mere deliberation and forethought would suffice. It rested upon its earthstone throne as a cub on a cough, unhurried. A silver-domed helm twitched nearby, causing those other silvery skullcaps to flicker with etheric static. The ursid’s eyes glowed, a flicker of excitement crossing them, its own crumpled, even crude-looking, cap of rolled metal glistening in the pulse.

+Your objection is noted well,+ it continued, its tone conciliatory, apologetic. +Others who stride far amidst the Way whisper in their minds of a monumental discovery.+

The ursid’s voice was changing, growing deeper, growing higher in pitch. Its timbre extended. The voice of one.

+At long last through these untold aeons,+ it gestured with four paws around the seminary, encapsulating all with their curious path. The invigoration filled the room, the ursid’s back undulated as it turned to lay upon it. +We are no longer alone.+

The room pulsed, the ursid’s cap crimped and crunched, falling from its grinning head. Across the expanse faster than mere information could propagate, the ursid channelled the will of the one far beyond its own mortal body. Molecule after molecule in every direction, wrought closely by the living geometry writing itself across the starship’s hull, oscillated in precision. Artificial telepressure, an ethereal nudge. It was enough to begin the collapse, to speed the fusion at the protocores, to generate the stars needed for the demands of a galactic nursery. The ursid’s muzzle formed a snaggle-toothed smile. +Children,+ it enunciated in the language of reality. +You will not be alone.+

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