The Babylon Engine was brilliant, one of the most amazing things in all of human history. When it was proposed to the Allied Intergalactic Axis of Humanity, their government certainly thought so, in fact, they were so convinced of its brilliance that they signed a check worth more money than had been available in all ten thousand years of pre-interstellar humanity. When the Axis president addressed his people, who were curious where all their taxes were going, he assured them that it was amazing. It was an unparalleled opportunity to do something to be remembered for all time, it would take their species to the next step of evolution, he said. Best of all, the Engine was just the first in a series of massive projects that would all work together and take humanity to heights never dreamed of before. All of this was very nice, but he never got to saying what the Engine was or what it did. You can’t blame him, maybe he was planning to say it in the second half of his speech, which he never got to on account of being shot through the forehead by a rebel sniper. He fell down, and the Axis went with him- the very next day began a civil war. Everyone suddenly forgot about the Babylon Engine.
Mars wanted independence, Earth wanted independence, Mercury wanted independence, everyone in the TRAPPIST-1 system wanted independence. So they fought, and the Axis was ripped to bits through a series of wars that lasted for five thousand years after the president’s death. Empires rose and fell apart, planets were turned inhospitable through war. But you can’t fight forever, so one day after all the colonies had become their own independent worlds they got together and somehow managed to agree. They forgot their differences for at least a time and formed the Cosmic Alliance of Humankind. For a little while, everything was fine. And then a salvage operation to the far reaches of space uncovered a derelict Axis comms outpost, which would have been uninteresting if not for the message it received soon after its discovery:
“Babylon Engine operations nominal. Charge at ninety-nine percent. Proceeding according to plan.”
This was brought to the attention of the freshly formed Alliance government. At first they didn’t think much of it, until they looked through the scant archives they had left over from the Axis and learned more about this Engine. Clearly it was important, based off the expenses paid, and no joke either, since the projections said it would take thousands of years to complete and another eight hundred to fully charge. Charge for what? Therein lies the rub. No problem, they thought, we’ll just ask. They sent a reply to the Engine asking them to elaborate. In fact, they sent twelve messages, all asking the same thing, and all of which they did not get a response to. They began to worry. They were getting close to the end of the eight hundred charging years, and were somewhat desperate to find out what it would do at a hundred percent before it got there. So they assembled a group of a few hundred soldiers, diplomats, representatives, scientists, and a single journalist, plopped them onto a ship armed to the teeth, and sent it out to knock on the Engine’s door. That ship is now approaching its destination.
Bulk ships are built to be able to carry entire armies. When they descend on a planet, those below cannot catch a single glance of the sky. The bulk ship sent out to investigate the Babylon Engine is called the Corinth, measuring almost five miles from one end to the other. It is a dust speck next to the Babylon Engine.
Huge does not begin to describe it. It is vast, like a mountain landscape. It measures nine hundred miles from one end to the other. From afar it looks like an enormous cannon drifting through the starry void, covered in thousands of fins sheltering propulsion jets that help it move. At the center, there’s a massive core pulling a thin tail of light from a nearby star that shrinks by the minute.
It is impossible. Nothing this large has ever been built in all of human history. Dyson technology is rare already, and star-eating technology was supposed to have been disproven through experiments conducted long before the construction on the Engine began. As the ship approaches, most of its passengers rest in cryo-sleep. As the Corinth approaches, many of its passengers are still in the icy grip of cryosleep. The first outsiders to witness the Babylon Engine in thousands of years are the essential crew members from their vantage point in the operating room.
Captain Savadra of the Corinth, standing behind his comms operator as the latter tries to get the Engine's signal. He taps his foot almost in synchrony with the blinking light on the radio's dashboard. In all his life he had never heard a word about the Engine until the communications half a century ago. He was a good captain, one of the best. Under his command the Corinth has made it through forty five battles with only minimal casualties.
He stood behind Comms operator Stanton, who was fiddling with a dial that he knew didn't do anything because there was nothing else he could do; he had already extended an olive branch through a brief comm, now he was waiting for a response. Savadra wasn't ignorant of Stanton's helplessness. After some time spent waiting, he said,
"Let me know if you get anything."
"Yes sir."
The captain paced his way around the control room to distract himself. There were fifty people in there, all specialized for whatever task they were executing. Most of the time they would all be working as one to keep the ship moving, but at the moment they were all waiting on Stanton to get in contact with the Engine. Pilots John and Karsten Answell, twin brothers keeping the ship's approach rate slow but steady, awaiting orders. System supervisor Walden, a scarred ex-soldier staring at the display of the ship's reactor core, at his left, crew supervisor Chirano flipping through vital readouts of all their passengers. Captain Savadra walked up to the latter.
"Are they all getting out of the ice just fine?"
"Ah, yes," says Chirano, somewhat embarrassed that the captain caught him idling. He elaborates:
"We're rousing them from cryosleep in the order you suggested. Essential personnel, then military, and the politicians last. Almost everyone is up now, except for a few governors and such. We're giving everyone else stimulants to facilitate awakening."
"Can I see them?"
"Of course." Chirano switches the screen from vitals to a camera feed of the ship's awakening room. Dozens of people in white hospital gowns are either laying down on cushioned beds or stumbling around in a drunken state. Machines crawl about, administering stimulants and assessing the humans' states. The captain nods in satisfaction, and Chirano switches the feed to the passenger bay, where those sober enough to walk are putting on their uniforms or wandering about as they await instruction.
"Many of the soldiers are already in the armory getting ready, and the automated defense system are already operating. In a short while we'll be primed to launch an effective counter attack. If we're attacked, that is."
"I'd say there's a good chance we'll be landing the first blow if we don't hear anything soon. How soon can we be ready?"
Before Chirano can respond, Stanton's voice echoes through the control room.
"Sir! I have a direct connection!"
Savadra rushes over. All the personnel who were pretending to be doing something lean in to hear. A monotone voice comes through a speaker on the comm board, shouting through a river of static interference.
"Attention, whoever you are. Identify yourself immediately or you will be destroyed. You are approaching an area restricted by the United Interplanetary Axis of Humanity, do not proceed if you value your lives!"
"This Captain Savadra of the Corinth. I have been sent here by the Interstellar Alliance. Who are you?"
"What is your purpose?"
"I report to those who have the authority to shut you down. You will be answering my questions."
"What is your purpose?"
"We are here to investigate the Babylon Engine. Let us board, or we will attack." Saying this, Savadra turns to look at Chirano, who nods.
The voice does not respond right away. When it does, it sounds almost like it is holding back laughter.
"Do you intend to scratch the Engine's paint if I don't cooperate?"
"I am here on the authority of the high council of the Interstellar Alliance! You will obey or be-"
"I understand captain, but this means nothing to me. Send us your crew manifest. Or face destruction."
"Who do you think you are?! I-"
"Ten minutes."
There is a sharp tone. The static is cut off. Savadra looks at Stanton, finds only a shrug in response. Live connection has been terminated from the other side. Savadra's entire operation crew is staring at him.
He stands there in silence for some time, thinking, until he realizes that there is nothing to think about. They are alone, no reinforcements will ever be able to come in time. Their military is immobile right now, and even then, who knows what strength the Engine may possess? In the end, they are not asking for very much now, but there are many lives hanging in the balance.
"Send it to them," he says to Stanton.
"Yes sir."
Not a word is spoken as Stanton prepares the manifest. The silence continues long after he has sent it off. Chirano watches the stumbling people on the security feed and thinks, they have no idea. Some terrified whispers begin to circle about as the ten minute mark approaches. Then, a chirp as direct connection is reestablished.
"Captain," the voice says, more relaxed than before.
"Yes?”
"Good. Then this is what will happen. You are going send over a small, unarmed vessel containing only three people, who are to be yourself, the pilot of said vessel, and the member of your crew known as Jason Arnet, a journalist. Our Operator prefers to be formally interviewed. It is only under these conditions that we will agree to be 'investigated'. We will not accept anyone or anything else. If you do not wish to comply, you have two options. Turn around, or face the previously defined fate."
The connection cuts off once more. The Captain scans his crew members' faces for some kind of an answer. He gets nothing, not from them or himself.
"Get me this Arnet," he says. The authority in his voice is not dulled by the circumstances.
"Of course- but sir, are you really going along with this?" The captain does not respond and instead turns to supervisor Walden.
"Prepare a dropship."
"What about the other passengers, sir? What are we going to tell the politicians?"
"Walden, that man made himself as clear as can be. We came here to figure out what that behemoth is there for, and by God we will."
"But what if they kill you?"
"If they do, don't fight them, retreat."
The captain addresses his whole crew now,
"First mate Markowsky will be in charge until my return."
"Sir," says Chirano in a dubious voice, "Arnet's the guy from the Cosmic Times. We were going to wake him last, but I've prioritized him now."
"Fantastic. Into hell with a journalist. Get me a pilot, Chirano. And keep everyone else in the dark for as long as you can. I don't want any riots."
The Corinth is a dust speck, and the dropship detached from it is rendered invisible near the Babylon Engine. It's not much, a cockpit and a small passenger area with two opposing rows of seats. The captain and the journalist sit facing each other, the latter clutching a small package containing his voice recorder used for interviews. He is too afraid to ask why he is there. The captain said very little at first, and now he is sitting and staring at the other in grim silence.
The ship rattles as they blast through space, so much so that someone who is new to travelling like this might think there is something wrong. Arnet is such a someone, and between the ship, his mysterious circumstances and the glaring captain he isn't sure just how much of the shaking is his own body. He is one of the top journalists working for the Cosmic Times, reporting on hundreds of the modern world’s most pivotal events. When he was selected for this, it seemed unreal. He had been overjoyed. But none of this was going according to plan now, he had been injected with awakening drugs and dragged on this trip without any explanation. And now he's here.
"Captain, can I see you in the cockpit?" The pilot's voice provides a much needed break in the silence.
"Stay put," says the captain as he gets up from his seat.
Inside the cockpit, Lieutenant Cassida, officer of the Alliance's space fighter force since the age of sixteen, piloting the most important vessel he would ever set foot inside of. The Engine is an enormous wall that takes up the entire cockpit's viewport. They’re landing near the front of the ship, far away from the star-eating core which is so unbelievable that the captain does not want to think about it. As they near, the captain can make out the tiny opening of a landing bay. The mouth of the beast, thinks the captain
"Have they told you anything?"
"Yes. They just now scanned and approved us. We'll be landing in five minutes."
"Good, I'll prepare our little friend."
He walks back into the passenger area and right up to Arnet, who shrinks at the captain's approach.
"We'll be there in five minutes. I don't know why they want you, but I need you to find out as much as you can, and report everything to me. Do you understand?"
"Y- yes sir."
"Be prepared for anything."
The captain sits back down and resumes his gaze upon Arnet.
The Engine's dock is vast and empty. Somewhere ahead, a microscopic ground marshall dressed in fluorescent orange waves for the ship to land. In the front of the doors, there's a small group of dark ants, waiting.
Cassida follows the marshall's lead and pulls the ship down to land. A set of huge mechanical support arms unfold to greet him as he approaches, and when they secure the ship there is a harsh jolt that sends Arnet out of his chair. As the arms lower the ship, the captain stands and composes himself.
"Remember what I said," he says to Arnet.
He's on his feet before the doors open, so he's able to face the guns pointing at him from the other side with a minor amount of integrity.
"Are you armed?" One of the soldier’s shouts. They’re dressed in identical tan uniforms with “Security” printed across their chests.
"Drop that!" Someone else says to Arnet. The case hits the ground with a thud.
"We come in peace, as directed," says the captain, rasing his hands.
"Don't kill me!" Cries Arnet, sticking his hands all the way above his head and waving them around in the air.
"What about your pilot? Have him come out!"
Before the captain can do anything, Cassida comes rushing through the doors with a handgun. As soon as Cassida sees the men, he throws his weapon onto the seat.
"All of you! Come out slowly, no sudden movements!"
The three of them comply, walking out under the enormous blinding lights of the hangar. When they are out, one soldier walks into the ship to collect their things.
"Are you the captain?" The man whose voice Savadra recognizes as the one he spoke to jabs a weapon in his direction.
"Yes."
"And you, are you Arnet?"
Arnet, shuddering, nods.
"Follow me. We will give you an audience with the overseer."
The soldiers surround them, some at the front, some at the back prodding them with gun barrels. As they walk towards the door, there is a horrible metallic noise, crackling and screeching, that prompts the three to turn around. The support arms are crippling their ship, crushing the thrusters and ripping off the landing gear.
"What are you doing?" The captain clenches his hands into fists. Arnet whimpers. They all wonder what they’ve gotten themselves into.
"Don't worry, captain. We have plenty of ships here. Although, I don't think you're going to need them."
"Are you going to kill us?" Arnet is shaking so hard he is almost unable to stand.
"You'll see."
The doors open wide to greet them, revealing on the other side a cavernous expanse of impossible tunnels lit only by small flashing strips, like a gargantuan subway. A lit up vehicle attached to a metal rail awaits them. Inside it is not much different from the dropship, two rows of seats facing each other. The three are buckled down tightly right next to each other and soldiers fill the remaining seats.
They are assured, "We will reach the operator soon," and with no more warning take off. The little vehicle moves down the tunnels with impossible speed. The only thing to see outside the few windows are mere unfocused flashes of light and long glowing streaks that seem to be other vehicles racing through the dark.
Arnet tries to hold back his vomit, Cassida searches his surroundings for any chance of escape, Savadra sits straight up. He thinks, we have been swallowed, and are now passing down the beast's throat.
It's impossible to know where they're going. The monorail moves so that they don't know what direction their headed, the view outside the window is always the same meaningless blur of light and dark. Sometimes they seem to be moving upside down.
The soldiers are silent. Savadra is staring at nothing, lost in thought. Arnet has his eyes shut, lost in only a single thought that echoes in his head- "Don't throw up, don't throw up".
Just as he isn't able to control it for another second, there is a decrease in speed, mercifully gradual. The blurs come into focus and have regained their forms just as the vehicle comes to a stop. Everything outside looks the same as from where they took off.
The soldiers stand up in unison and make their guests rise with them. Arnet can't quite stand straight, but nonetheless finds the gun barrels encouraging enough to stumble out the vehicle. Past another set of mechanical doors is an immense and silent chamber, as soon as they enter, the doors shut behind them and the chamber begins to move upwards. Arnet groans, certain that this will be it for him. But this trip is much shorter, over in seconds. Before he can even feel the nausea coming on, they are getting out. Another chamber. More doors.
They are waiting in an almost empty room, facing a door. A hulking man stands guard in front of the door, arms folded across his chest. When he speaks, Savadra recognizes him as the voice on the other end of the live communications.
"Which of you is the journalist?" He asks.
Arnet raises a shaking hand.
"Have you brought something to record this on?"
He nods.
"In a moment, I'm going to let you interview the operator. He's waking up right now. You came here just in time, you know. Just in time to witness everything."
Unsure of what else to do, Arnet smiles and nods again.
"What are we witnessing, if you don't mind?" The captain tries to remain stolid. He is almost certain that he's facing death, and this terrifies him, but he knows it's important to face it with courage.
"How impatient can you be! I just told you, you will speak with the operator himself!"
"He's taking quite a while, isn't he?"
"I assure you captain, if you had been sleeping for five thousand years you wouldn't wake up fast either." The man pauses and puts a hand to his ear, where there is a tiny radio wrapped around his lobe. He nods and takes a deep breath.
"He's ready." The doors open by themselves.
"Wait, can I have my recorder?" Arnet manages a single sentence.
A soldier comes over to hand Arnet the package. He thanks him, and gets a nod in return.
With that out of the way, the captain, the pilot, and the journalist head through the doors.
The room on the other side has a domed glass ceiling providing a panoramic view of the stars. In one corner, there's a space like a study- antique bookshelves, an armchair, a desk with a pair of glasses on it, and in the center, an unoccupied cryogenic pod breathing out wisps of freezing preservation gas. Ahead is an airlock with the inner doors open and racks of drab brown space suits. In the center of this room, between them and the airlock, there are two rocking chairs facing each other, in one of them sits a man wearing one of the suits from the airlock, minus the helmet.
The visitors look at each other. The captain gestures for Arnet to go ahead of them. Swallowing his fear, he walks forward.
As he approaches he sees that the man is ancient. His face is covered in wrinkles that almost obscure the rest of his features. Arnet can just make out a pair of small green eyes and a mouth shut tight. Only a few ghostly hairs hang off the man’s head. Despite this evident age, there is something sharp in those eyes as they watch Arnet approach. When he's close enough, the old man takes off one of his suit gloves and offers the exposed, gnarled hand to Arnet. He shakes it.
"What's your name?" Like the man's eyes, his speech is sharp and intelligent, bearing only a few hints of the cracks that come with aging.
"A- Arnet. Jason Arnet."
"Your companions?"
"Lieutenant Cassida."
"Captain Josiah Savadra." They each say it themselves, proudly, though Cassida's voice quavers. He is not as confident about facing death. He did not choose his job as a fighter pilot because of his bravery, he chose it for the pay, and dead men had no use for money.
The old man shapes his melted face into a smile.
"My name is Arthur. Operator of the Babylon Engine. Have a seat, Arnet. I apologize to the rest of you for not preparing anything for you, but you can use my library if you wish."
Arnet takes the offer, the other two stay standing.
"I'm afraid we don't have much time, mr. Arnet. The Engine will be at full charge by the end of this hour, and I would like to be finished before then, so that everyone has time to get ready."
"Okay."
"When we're done, I'll have a friend come and send your recording back to where you came from."
"Okay."
"We can begin right now if you wish."
There is a moment of silence before Arnet realizes this requires him to have his recorder out. He unpackages it and turns it on before setting it down at his feet.
Another quiet moment, before the operator, Arthur, says, "Well?"
"I don't know what to say."
"Well, you're a journalist aren't you? Have you ever done an interview?"
"Well, yes but-"
"Here, you can start by asking me to tell you something about myself."
"Okay."
Arthur stares at him.
"Oh- can you tell me a little bit about yourself?" This seems absurd. In the past, Arnet has interviewed CEOs, politicians, writers. Never anyone like this man before. And for him to behave like this was all normal? He might as well go with it at this point. Everything from the euphoria of being selected for this up until now had all been a fever dream anyway. At any time, he might still wake up.
"I am doctor Arthur Atriano, original operator of the Babylon Engine and visionary behind its creation. I proposed this project to the Interplanetary Axis of Humanity, and was approved to complete it. Since then, I have been waiting here for the past five thousand years."
"What does it do?"
"Not yet! That's the big question! Save it for later. Ask something else."
"Well," Arnet's train of thought was flying around a circular track. This man's unconcern was maddening. This figure here was inscrutable, Arnet could not begin to think of something he could ask to quantify him, to put him in some sort of organized compartment. He went with the first thing that came to his head.
"How have you been here all this time?"
"I spent the first few years working like anyone else, and the rest in cryosleep, only being awoken to get notification of pivotal milestones. It hasn't spared me the full extent of age, as you can see, but I am sharper than most men at the age of five thousand!" He laughed. He laughed, like a normal human being!
"What about the rest of the people here? They don't seem like they've been asleep for all that time. They don’t look like you."
"Ah, good question! As you may have guessed, there were thousands of others who came to the Babylon with me, to help construct it. When I went under there was no one else who wished to endure such an extended period of sleep, no matter how great it would be to witness the project's full completion. The people you see now are descendants of those original few. Their families have been faithfully at work for generations, though for the past few centuries it's only been a matter of watching the engine to make sure it doesn't explode."
Arnet blinks a few times. This man does not realize what he is saying. He has gone insane, and now the insane appears normal to him.
"Do you know why we are here?"
"To find out what we are doing here. The communication your government sent made that much clear."
"So what are you doing here?"
"You have no patience. Ask me something else, we're nearing the end of our time anyway. I'll get there."
"Fine. Do you know why we are so curious?"
"No. Our records within the Axis should have made this purpose clear. You should have known better than to come here."
Arnet swallows. What could that mean?
"Any records the Axis had were destroyed along with it, days after your little project was approved. Did you know that?"
Arthur doesn't respond at first.
"No, I did not. I’d begun to suspect, from the lack of communication. But that explains everything. You poor fools didn't know anything."
"We sent you hundreds of communications questioning you before the final one. Why did you not respond to any of them?"
"You were not the Axis, and we were instructed to communicate only with the Axis. I don't know how you even received anything from us."
"There was a salvage mission to a derelict Axis comm station. We happened to be there when you sent your message about the percentage."
"Oh." The man breaks into a violent coughing fit. For a moment, Arnet is afraid the man will fall out of his chair, or else die right in front of him. When he regains his composure, he says:
"It's almost time. I can tell you the answer you're here for."
"Perfect. What does it do?"
"What do you think?"
"I think it looks like a giant gun. Are you going to blow up the Alliance?"
"No, no. When the Babylon Engine reaches full charge, it will detonate and rip a hole through the fabric of space and time. There will be nothing to separate our reality from those it is adjacent to. We are always surrounded by other dimensions, but this will bring us into contact with them."
Arnet almost laughs.
"You mean the multiverse? That was disproved before this even started!"
"That's what they said, officially. They said the same thing about star-eaters, and yet you saw it with your own eyes. That was intentional, we didn't want anyone replicating this. And if I may add, you couldn’t disprove the multiverse anyway. Or prove it for that matter.”
“What do you mean? You don’t know if it’s real? You don’t know if this is going to work.
“No I do not. I think it should, but I imagine it would be quite the shame if it didn’t. Of course, none of us are going to be very disappointed
"What do you mean, we won't be disappointed? You'll certainly be disappointed."
"No one is going to be disappointed, because we'll be dead- completely vaporized."
"S- S- sorry?"
"My dear boy. The energy required to open this rift is more immense than you could imagine. Creating something that could withstand it all and not be destroyed would have taken five million years, and we were straining the patience of the Axis as it was. When the Engine fires, it and everything in its immediate vicinity will be annihilated."
"What?!"
"You may say, what then? Well, the Axis had plans, this was to be the first in a series of projects begun one after the other that all together would make use of the multiverse. But I assume none of those were completed. Oh well."
"My God! Turn it off! Stop it! Right now, stop it! You may be insane, but I didn't sign up for this, none of the people on that ship did! Turn it off!"
"I cannot. No one can. The Engine was designed so that once it began charging, it would continue until it finished. In case anyone had second thoughts."
"There has to be a way! We have weapons! We can bomb it!"
"So could we, theoretically, but the defenses are all automated and nothing you have on that ship will touch it."
Arnet stares, dumbfounded. Cassida has fallen to his knees and begun to cry. The captain's jaw is wide open.
"I'm sorry. I've had a long time to accept this, it's a terrible shame that you have to go through this."
Arthur takes a deep breath.
"Our time is up. We have ten minutes before detonation."
As he speaks, the doors to his room swing open. The soldiers come rushing in. Arnet screams like mad and leaps at Arthur, only to be stopped by the soldiers' batons. He is dragged out of the room, along with his recorder, which is to be sent off immediately, along with whatever information they can give to help the other people. Though, there isn't much they can do.
Cassida is also dragged out, making berserk unintelligible noises. Only the captain is left, for he only stands in silence. With a vacant expression, he sits down on the floor. Now, the beast is going to go up like a grenade and take everyone with it.
Soon an alarm begins to ring. The room lights up red. The captain is still on the floor, and he sees Arthur stand up, now fully dressed in his suit. The heavy thuds of his magnetic boots echo along with the alarm as he walks up to the captain. Offering his hand, he says in a muffled voice,
"Would you like to go for a walk?"
They are outside of the airlock, creeping along beneath the dying sun. Arthur's chamber is located along the "barrel" of the Engine. There are hundreds of alarm lights on the exterior too, flashing orange. In the distance, the captain can see a tiny metallic blob that could be the Corinth. Even though there's no way they can see him, he waves.
"We have a minute. Are you prepared, captain?" Arthur's voice crackles over the radio.
"No."
"Neither am I. Are you afraid?"
"Terrified."
"Good. Then you are sane. I will enjoy spending my last moments in the company of a sane man." The situation is so absurd that he can't help but go along with it.
The captain does not respond.
“Are you happy with the way your life has gone?”
“I… suppose I am. I’ve been a good captain. What about you?”
“I think I am as well.”
They walk a little bit further, and stop. The lights are flashing faster.
The captain can hear Arthur sigh over the radio.
"Goodbye, Josiah."
"Goodbye. Arthur."
Arthur reaches down to undo his magnetic boots. As he does, Savadra can hear alarms going off in his suit over the radio. He does not stop, and soon the boots stand empty as he floats away from them. As he drifts, he removes his helmet, and the radio cuts out. He spreads his arms out and closes his eyes, drifting ever further from his ownerless boots.
Tremors go through the ground beneath Savadra's feet. Everything shakes so hard that he cannot see, and he can only clench his teeth and shut his eyes, hoping it will be over soon.
Light blasts through the captain's eyelids. Keeping them shut is pointless, so he opens them again. He sees Arthur, floating there. He sees a bright beam of pure color, shining unlike anything in existence. Within the beam, there is beauty, the beauty of a billion worlds. For a moment he sees that beauty in its fullness. And there is nothing else