6 Billion A.D./The Search

Tentative Synopsis: As the new dark age sets in Rigel wanders the galaxy for 200 years until encountering the mysterious Sentience.

Resuming

Somehow, things went on. Even after the chain reaction, people carried on with their business. Things seemed surprisingly normal.

Rigel, who had escaped from the chaos after the chain reaction undetected, floated off in space for a while. After a year of flying through the galaxy, Rigel had started to assemble a mental map of the stars. Rigel didn't know what he was looking for -- if anything. For years, he kept going, seemingly aimlessly. Sometimes he had a next destination, but often he went wherever he felt like it at that moment, or merely drifted.

Rigel felt better from the drifting, but still lacked direction. Where was he to go? Sophiy was dead. He had abandoned the League, then joined the Order only to destroy the majority of the universe. Now not much remained, of the galaxy, or for him to do.

Rigel spent much of his time thinking. Considering the past, the future, the present. Often, his minded drifted as much as his body. Empty.

Unable to go back, having nowhere to go forward, Rigel felt himself in an impossible position, having to go somewhere but having nowhere to go.

While drifting, Rigel did encounter some interesting, often appealing, places. He found a star system where the majority of the population consisted of attractive rock-like species. In another star system, Rigel found an arrangement of matter that appeared to produce an illusion of consciousness unrelated to sensation or action within the local environment. Rigel wondered whether it had been deliberately programmed by some other species, or had arisen on its own.

In a remote, isolated part of the galaxy, Rigel encountered a white hole. This rare object, unknown to many species, rejected any light that hit it. It was completely opaque.

Rigel liked some of the places he visited -- at some of which he even found survivors of his chain reaction, while other places were deserted. However, he did not feel comfortable in any of them. At least, not for more than a few days. So Rigel kept wandering.

More years passed. Rigel didn't age -- his immortality remained, of course.

After a few decades, Rigel had seen about ten percent of the galaxy. As such, he had a decent knowledge of this part of it, and he could picture much of the rest of it. There still remained, though, large chunks that he did not know, some of which had scant information available on the data links.

Maybe he was onto something. Rigel felt like he had some inkling as to what he was doing, for the first time in a while.

Rigel Reconsiders

At a loss for what to do, Rigel often did nothing. After a hundred years, Rigel decided that he was ready to take on some different directions. He had enough of the drifting, and wanted to focus some more on finding destinations. What did Rigel want? Where would he head?

Rigel considered whether to start anew. On the one hand, he still didn't feel too positive, after suffering so many losses. On the other hand, he could at least see the rational approach, which indicated giving things another shot. He knew that he did not want to go back to the old parts of the galaxy. He had already seen those. Maybe that sounded hollow to other people, but to Rigel it made enough sense. Why see something that you already know, which is just going to bring you back down?

Since he had decided not to end it, he figured on keeping to that. In which case, Rigel reasoned, how about trying a different place? Maybe even go to the other side of the galaxy? That was perhaps too extreme. But still, he could at least try a different place that he had not yet visited.

As Rigel was reasoning his way through things, the stars kept going by. At the least he retained his botanist's eye for beauty. Rigel slept for a while. There would be plenty more years in which to make his decision.

Rigel looked around. Tons of empty space. Rigel felt the tugging again. But this time he knew what it was.

I've been waiting for you.

Who said that? Was it the tugging thing? Or was it Rigel, in his head? Or was it both, or neither?

Rigel felt the message inside his body, and then he responded.

So. Here you are. Here we are. At last.

At last.

It's a pleasure to meet.

It is.

Porox piturius. A long, slender, crawling plant. Prefers zero gravity, but adaptable. Can also hold itself together in negative gravity. Difficult to make reproduce. Reputed to have the capacity for thought, feeling, and a transcendent communication with other species.

The Botanist's Book of Craft and Lore.

Rigel knew it. Here, not just around him, but also within him, and even way out in distant realms of space, his Porox had been "speaking" with him, so to speak. Not actually speaking, but invisibly messaging.

Rigel had cultivated some Porox way back when he worked on the League ship deep in pandemic territory. He had -- despite it being strictly forbidden -- released some spores into space, in the vain hope that it would discover some weakness in the disease agent. Then, Rigel had thought, maybe he would find the plant saying what the cure was.

It had been a wild dare. And, Rigel had thought for thousands of years, it had failed. But here, now, was the evidence to the contrary. At least, if it hadn't succeeded in curing the pandemic, it hadn't failed to reproduce.

Rigel's Porox had done fantastically well. Here, thousands of lightyears from anywhere, the plant had managed to twist invisibly throughout space. Here, way out on Rigel's solo venture, his plants were speaking with him. As Rigel had cultivated his plants, they had then cultivated him -- for thousands of years.

Whether through some genes, or through some biochemical in its leaves, or exactly how, Rigel did not know. However, he could easily see -- feel -- the plant speaking to him. And he now understood how the plant had spoken to him, with him, since it had started growing.

Rigel's Porox had sent messages, whenever he was in trouble, whenever it seemed to contribute. So often he had felt these tugs, which seemed to have information that Rigel couldn't possibly have known. In fact, he had often disbelieved these tugs in part because they seemed so uncanny. Yet, now, here, Rigel could openly acknowledge that there was indeed often useful information within these feelings.

Rigel's Porox had cautioned him against that risky undertaking, in going to war, which had not only cost him an enormous amount but also set back the efforts to find a cure for at least a thousand years.

Post-Destruction

After the destruction, Rigel felt different. In some ways fine, in some ways not. Yet, ready to carry on. He had to.

Rigel went over his uniform, carefully ensuring that things were in place. Better not to have any problems later, he thought.

What do you want for me? Rigel thought. Was it him thinking, or that feeling?

We want what's best for us. Who was this "us"? Were there many things tugging at Rigel? Or was the voice inside him also considering Rigel?

Well, what's best for us?

We want to spread throughout the universe. That's in your interest, too.

It was as if the voice knew what Rigel was thinking. It did know what he was thinking.

In some ways, things seemed the same as before. Aside from the utter destruction, that which had survived had managed to retain its ordinary shapes, habits. Yet, in spite of that regularness -- which Rigel now knew would continue on its trajectory for at least another billion years, regardless of what the universe could throw at it -- Rigel now felt a calm sense of difference. Rigel had become a different person. It was inside him, what had changed. Not something out there.

So you want to spread out, eh? Rigel thought. Now he could distinguish his own thoughts better from those of the Porox. "Well, that's in line with what I want, as you say. So, let's make a deal. Let's spread out together.

Very well, the mysterious voice said. We're in this together. Here's how it happens. You will be our body, we will do the thinking. Oh, yes, you can continue to have your meager thoughts, such as they are. We will even encourage you in it. However, as long as you do us no harm and represent us in the mechanical environment, we will encourage you in your own actions.

Rigel consented, without a word. Part of him felt like he was giving up an important part of his autonomy. Yet, he accepted the partnership, even with himself in such a committed condition. Wasn't this what he had just fought so hard to escape? Maybe, but in other ways it was of his own will, exactly what he wanted.

What did Rigel want?

He wanted love, happiness, and to spread throughout the universe.

The plants had it right.

Quiet

Eventually my engines gave way. I floated with thrusters no end in sight. Then I entered a patch of graviton radiation. The darkness seemed to dance. “Computer status.” There was no answer.

The Orb

All I could see was light. It was warm and comforting. I was floating but grounded. Where am I? A familiar voice replied, “somewhere, nowhere, everywhere; let’s just say you’re here.” It can’t be, you’re ....” “dead. The voice interjected, “but very alive in you.” A figure appeared resembling Sophiy. “This is a trick, this isn’t real!” Real, as thoughts are real, I suppose, but it is true that I’m something else. Would you rather me take a different form?” “No!” I replied, “please stay as you are.” Love, what a thing, to love so much, such beauty; as beautiful as star light, movements of atoms, first breaths, life itself. How many times have I seen it, only for it to go away, extinguish. “What are you talking about?” After so long are you really still so indifferent to the passing of time, the momentum of things, whats coming. “The end” Well an end, the end of this amazing spectacle, this miracle, this brilliant dance. But I don’t want it to end. Not this time. The fear of the unknown; I don’t want to be afraid anymore. What are you afraid of? Death I suppose. But I’ve been long enough. I need to sit down. A chair appeared. I sat down. What are you? A dream, a flicker of consciousness, a manifestation of it all, I don’t even know. But it’s your time now. It’s time to see where it all goes, to leave it to chance. It’s time for me to go. But I’m nobody. Maybe that’s what we need. One act to set things into motion. Are you willing to touch the fire, knowing you will never come back? Sleep now, you have a big decision to make.

I awoke from the best sleep I had ever had. My ship looked different. What had happened? I looked at the screen. A thousand years had passed. “What!” I gasped. The readings must be wrong. It can’t be. And I was at the center of the galaxy. Have I lost my mind. Yes, it was all a delusion. What was in my hand. A tiny orb. It seemed weightless.

The orb was like a shimmering silver orb, but it had a decidedly artificial look. Like it was created by a God rather than sentient hands. It was in this moment of contemplation that the power in my body surged initially into the orb before subsiding. My hand transferred no warmth to this uniquely amazing device.

With some more chance to think back, things seemed different. Somehow, the perspective shifted how he felt. Now, Rigel was still sad, but at least he could see that this somehow fit into a larger plan. Rigel felt something tugging at his chest. Thinking it was his uniform caught against his skin, Rigel tugged back. Yet, the feeling remained.

As he kept spinning through space, alone, Rigel thought back. To Vespa, but much more so to Sophiy. How these people had shaped him as a person. The tugging feeling kept pulling at him. Rigel looked around. For lightyears, he didn't see anyone around. What could it be? Was there a spy probe stuck in his uniform, attempting to autonavigate and continuing to bump into him?

Rigel thought of his decision to set off the chain reaction. Had it been the right choice? Now with hindsight, Rigel could see clearly that there was no right choice. He had already come this far. No matter what he did, it would not change the past. In either case, he could live with the decision. That was a relief. After so much suffering, Rigel hadn't been sure that he even wanted to live. And yet, now he could see that he was only making whichever choices he could, and the universe would go on.

With that thought in mind, the tugging suddenly made sense. Rigel felt the patterns of the tugs, and he understood. There was nothing stuck in his uniform. Instead, it was a Sentience. It had been there all along.

Back when Rigel had struggled to win over Sophiy, he had ignored those tugs on his chest. Back when Vespa was trying to woo him, Rigel had ignored those tugs, or at best chalked them up to awkward nervousness. And perhaps most of all, back when he was pulling the trigger on the chain reaction, he had felt -- and again ignored -- those tugs on his chest.

Now they made sense.

Fixing Things

The epidemiology board met to talk about Rast's molecule. The molecule did indeed seem to work.

"This cuts it!" exclaimed one of the doctors. "It could only be one of those funky things. A Splunk. Their distinctive biology would be susceptible to this molecule. Any virus or bacteria would be shielded against it. We have the evidence!"

The molecule did indeed seem to work. The other board members nodded in agreement. What had boggled their minds for so many years, now seemed so obvious.

Rast, sick of the fame, chugged back a glass of the asteroid pond water, killing himself.

Vespa, after surviving the near destruction of the universe, figured that Rigel was dead. In sorrow, she swallowed a deliberately overdose-sized branch of one of Rigel's plants, killing herself.

Rigel, alone, carried forth.

Alone, that is, except for his plants.

The voices, the feelings, continued.

The Porox occasionally asked Rigel if he needed a hand. Not often by explicit voices, but rather by implicit tugs which became more subtle, efficient over time.

When Rigel by chance encountered another survivor, he would do the plant's bidding. Often this required convincing the person to open his mouth in such a way that the Porox spores could more effectively contaminate them. From fighting against a contagious agent, Rigel now fought for one.

After some more solitude, Rigel started to ask himself whether he wanted to continue the spread of the plant indefinitely, or whether he even could. Or should he instead focus on making the most of his remaining time, and leave the plants and the universe to their own devices?

Whenever Rigel had these thoughts, he caught himself before getting too carried away. For, as he well knew, the Porox could hear every thought he had, and could even implant its own thoughts in his head.

Rigel struggled. He struggled to decide how committed he was to continuing the cycle. For he now knew that this was the ulterior motive of the plants. With enough time and space, the Porox could colonize enough of the galaxy to set up another rebirthing event. Presumably with the Order somehow embedded in it. Rigel had figure out this much from his botany training and a few speculations.

Rigel pondered.

Rigel, finished with his efforts, left. Space seemed to have rearranged itself again. Continuing on, in different shape. Would it carry on like this? Rigel didn't know.

There remained the new hydrogen lines. Far more efficient. Yet, in spite of this, many facets of life remained the same. The subsequent cycle, following this latest collapse, was already afoot.