Story Reader / Main Story / 28 Polaris Bond / Story
Clenching a pocket watch, Schulz sits by the farthest porthole on the bridge. He gazes at the light spot twelve light-years away, waiting for the verdict of the ship's tribunal.
He bought this pocket watch 230 Earth years ago from a roaming group of merchants who gathered artifacts from before human civilization departed the Milky Way.
No one knew where they got these items. Rumor had it that they also possessed a unique device used for controlling sequences from ancient eras...
Schulz sifts through his memories. The ship's psychologist, Schwartz, has always believed Schulz harbors a certain compulsive thinking pattern, yet he sees no way around it and opts to yield.
Like this, Schulz locates the special device he had previously seen in his memory, a collectible piece known as an "abacus."
Hmm...
He also holds a penchant for collecting aged items. When Pioneer Leibowitz was ejected from the W40 homeport at the edge of the Gould Belt, he was meant to bring along the pocket watch his grandfather had left him.
But for some reason, he didn't get to see his grandfather in that ringworld.
Sir, the Scientific Joint Council has completed the inquiry, and the recording has been sent to you.
A small light dot appears beside Schulz, along with a gentle male voice—it is the voice of Pioneer Leibowitz's central artificial intelligence.
All information inside Pioneer Leibowitz converges into the colossal supercomputer at the ship's forefront, which measures 3 kilometers on each side. This luminous, cold machine emits a cascade of lights as data flows in and streams out from it.
All right.
Schulz gently touches the hovering light spot beside him, prompting an instant projection of recorded surveillance footage to unfold before him—
Greetings... Mr. Luwei. I'm Mozi, and I will be asking some necessary questions on behalf of the Joint Council.
A deep and somewhat raspy voice resonates through the desolate room, and inside there is only a table, a chair, and a man sitting on the chair who seems disheveled and on edge.
Go ahead.
My predecessor seemed to have an unpleasant conversation with you, but despite being a soldier myself, I believe science deserves respect.
Hmph, well said, but respecting science... what good does that do?
I am sorry for the passing of Mr. Cournot. However, based on protocol, I must ask some necessary questions... What was your relationship with Gustav Cournot?
I... used to work under Mr. Cournot and then took over as the director of the Advanced Dimension Observatory after he passed away.
Yes, based on the records, you assumed his role promptly following Mr. Cournot's suicide last week.
The observatory needs someone to take charge, and the Scientific Joint Council is aware of that.
Of course.
Why did you resign from the director position at the Advanced Dimension Observatory two days ago?
I have the freedom to do so.
And on that day, you immediately requested authorization to use firearms from Captain Zaal.
A holographic projection of the firearms authorization record appeared on the table before Luwei. His previously composed voice now carried a trace of trembling.
...Is there any problem?
May I inquire as to why you applied for the use of firearms?
Doesn't... everyone on Pioneer Leibowitz have that right?
That statement is inaccurate. Pioneer Leibowitz is an immigration research vessel. Typically, as you are aware, scientists are not permitted to apply for firearm use.
Furthermore... Mr. Cournot—may he rest in peace—used such a tool to take his own life.
...
I'm sorry—
I...
I beg your pardon?
I have the right to choose to end my own life.
But we cannot afford to lose another brilliant scientist. It is crucial that you understand this.
If you are experiencing any psychological challenges, you can seek assistance from the ship's psychologist, or if needed, opt for stasis hibernation to alleviate your condition.
You should be aware that even if you choose to shoot yourself, it is not the end of your life... The Scientific Joint Council's respect for Mr. Cournot will soon be shown.
No... no.
It's pointless.
It's pointless... We can't just... sit back and watch everything head toward destruction.
I... can't accept it.
Destruction? Could you tell me what you mean by that?
Have you never read the reports we submitted?
Schulz raises his hand to signal Kant to pause the video and asks.
What reports?
The Advanced Dimension Observatory has recently submitted forty-two reports.
The first one is... "ADO Observation Report_2753-11-20" submitted by Sir Gustav Cournot.
The light dot hovering next to Schulz flickers as if contemplating, before projecting a report beside him.
...Keep playing first.
Have you never read the reports we submitted?
What reports?
See, you really don't care about this...
...Oh... Are you referring to the recent observation reports submitted by Mr. Cournot and yourself?
Yes.
However, the Scientific Joint Council has validated these observation reports as nonsensical.
No... That's impossible.
Luwei swallows hard, appearing even more nervous.
On November 18, Mr. Cournot instructed us to check the sky surveyors located at the ship's bow four times.
Because the data we got from the observatory at the ship's stern... there was obviously something wrong with it.
But when I and four other scientists checked in person, the configurations of those sky surveyors were perfectly fine.
So what exactly is the problem?
Twelve light-years away, the pulsar... at our target location...
There's some problem with its electromagnetic radiation beam on the macroscale.
You mean issues with its electromagnetic radiation?
This... Look at this.
Luwei raises his hand and projects a data report.
This is the pulse signal of PSR-Z1975+2253 obtained on November 17th.
On the chart delineated by numerous small squares with green lines, a slender red line continuously jumped, at times resembling a raging storm, at times as quiet as death, and occasionally shifting like a graceful dancer alternating between a minuet and a quick tango.
...Are you referring to this report?
The synchrotron radiation coming from a neutron star shouldn't be this erratic. Despite being some of the most extreme celestial bodies in the universe, they should still follow... the most fundamental laws of physics.
With that said, the nervous man shows a bitter smile.
The Dance of Death...
I beg your pardon?
After that, Mr. Cournot immediately turned the sky surveyors to check other pulsars in another direction we had observed when we left the homeport.
There were typical white dwarfs and neutron stars, all without issues. Their frequency spectrum cycles remained normal.
Which meant that our devices were perfectly fine.
The only problem could be that star, that... crazy star.
But this could not be the cause of Mr. Cournot's suicide, nor can it be the reason for your attempt.
Don't you get it?
In our knowledge system, a star can't have such completely irregular pulse signals.
It's like... this star is like a system of true chaos, constantly collapsing and then undergoing supernovas, and the frequency of visible light...
It's like a meatball; one moment, it's a complete meatball, and the next, it shrinks into a black hole.
This is equivalent to changing all four fundamental forces within a Planck time and rewriting everything. Even the speed of light is constantly stretched and contracted like a rubber band.
That's impossible.
Also, as far as we know, when a star collapses into a compact object, angular momentum remains constant.
In other words, the star should be spinning rapidly, and we shouldn't see a scenario where the conical radiation zone rotates through one region slowly and then abruptly shifts magnetic poles to another area.
Thus, I'm only leaning toward one possible explanation.
What is it?
...PSR-Z1975+2253, twelve light-years away, might not be a pulsar.
Schulz raises his hand, signaling Kant to pause the video again.
What exactly is going on with that star?
As per the route designated upon departure, PSR-Z1975+2253 is a neutron star that requires our observation.
I know this.
Is there anything wrong with this neutron star?
I can only extract the data obtained by the sky surveyors.
Show me yesterday's observation data.
Understood...
The light spot beside Schulz flickers once more, this time taking slightly longer than when retrieving the file report earlier.
According to the observation report from yesterday... all constant indicators of PSR-Z1975+2253 remain normal, aligning with the initial observation targets of the mission.
Here is the detailed data.
A tall wall filled with a multitude of observation indicators and radio observation images unfurls beside Schulz. The blue-white star on the wall gazes silently at him.
Nothing's wrong with the data?
Yes, it all meets our observation targets.
Tsk... That's odd.
There's one thing I must remind you.
PSR-Z1975+2253 is merely a prospective target in this flyby observation mission. It might not warrant the majority of our attention.
You're right.
Schulz waves his arm, causing the star, along with the stacks of data and line charts, to vanish. The bridge is once again left with only himself.
Let's just leave it at that.
Do you still need to proceed with reviewing the inquiry with Mr. Luwei?
...Not for now.
The Joint Council decided to put Mr. Luwei into hibernation, right?
Yes. Three days later, Mr. Cournot will assume the responsibilities of the Advanced Dimension Observatory director temporarily until it is deemed suitable to awaken Luwei.
Probably the right thing to do.
Considering Mr. Luwei will enter hibernation, the Joint Council has consulted his Caporian compatriots, and Mrs. Burnell will also end her Caporian relationship with Mr. Luwei within this Earth year.
Will Katherine remarry?
Schulz unintentionally uses a term he encountered in ancient records. However, for their time, marriage, family, childbirth, and offspring merely indicate straightforward and commonplace Caporian relationships.
That depends on Mrs. Burnell's own wishes.
Very well. Also, contact the Federation. Since Mr. Cournot took his life while in service, ask the Federation to provide some compensation to his family.
The folks at the observatory... probably won't appreciate being bossed around every day by the "brain" of someone they know well and admire.
Unfortunately, there's no way around it.
Understood.
Is there anything else?
At present, there are no miscellaneous tasks that necessitate your attention.
Then I'll plan the following course.
Schulz taps Kant, and a vast star map materializes instantly in front of him.
They are currently on a glide path from NGC185 to M33, having just warped from the direction of the Fornax Dwarf Spheroidal. Their task is to finalize the scientific exploration of this region within the designated Earth years.
It's not easy to take a team of conservative academics on an exploration. That's why the Federation puts military personnel in charge of every research vessel.
How soon can we be ready for the next warp?
Given the deviation disturbance upon Pioneer Leibowitz's ejection, we are experiencing a deviation index of 2.87% from the intended course.
Therefore, to uphold the space-time continuity of the entire vessel, the warp engine requires a minimum of 5.7 Earth days for cooling down.
Their trajectory accuracy still isn't there...
This deviation is within acceptable limits.
The next warp destination will be close to PSR-Z1975+2253. I'll set the coordinates myself.
May I interpret this as you proceeding with the research mission on PSR-Z1975+2253?
Yes.
There is no imperative need to allocate excessive time to this pulsar.
It's one of the predetermined targets anyway. Proceed.
Understood.
By the way, bring Luwei out of hibernation in five days.
I'd love to see his expression then...
Copy that.
Besides that, do you wish to enter hibernation during these five days?
Hmm...
Schulz hesitates.
All the necessary tasks are done. During the cooldown period of the warp engine, there truly is nothing left for him to attend to as the captain.
I'll go take a nap.
Understood, I'll prepare it for you.
Schulz waves his hand, making the star map flicker out of sight. He then taps on Kant, and the floating light spot next to him gradually fades away.
He continues to caress the pocket watch in his hand, gazing at the star twelve light-years away that he is about to behold.
Now, it's time for him to sleep. Throughout this journey, he has slept intermittently for hundreds of years, yet each slumber feels like a mere moment to him. This time is no different.
?????, Earth Calendar Year ■■■, ■■ 22, 19:36, ?????, Pioneer Leibowitz, Life Support Center.
Warning! Warning! Abnormal ship speed! Symmetry error! Power system error!
Gravitational wave anomaly detected! Photon reading anomaly detected!
Warning! Warning...
Awakened by the blaring alarms from his slumber, Schulz gropes for the valve in the airtight pod. The air, carrying a faintly metallic scent, rushes into his lungs, prompting him to cough out the hibernation fluid that should have been expelled gradually.
Cough cough... Cough...
What's happening...
The Life Support Center should have been brightly lit, but now it is shrouded in darkness, with only the flashing alarm lights illuminating his figure.
Kant.
He taps the control panel of the hibernation pod, but the familiar light spot does not show up beside him.
Emerging from hibernation usually entails a minimum of ten minutes to restore muscle tissue receptors. However, drawing on his military experience, Schulz summons his strength and vaults out of the hibernation pod, landing firmly on the ground.
Expecting to step on glass shards, he instead senses a slick liquid beneath his feet.
Schulz tries to examine the ground, but his attempt proves futile. Under the flashing light, the entire Life Support Center, including Schulz in his shirt, is enveloped in a blood-red hue.
Warning! Warning! Abnormal ship speed! Symmetry error! Power system error!
Gravitational wave anomaly detected! Photon reading anomaly detected!
The alarms continue to blare incessantly.
(I gotta head to the bridge to figure things out.)
(The power system seems to be malfunctioning too...)
Schulz fumbles his way toward the airtight valve of the Life Support Center. Recalling his training, he manages to locate the manual valve for the door.
All his experience as a soldier proves invaluable in this moment. An average person, just emerging from hibernation, would never have the strength to turn this nearly one-meter-diameter iron valve.
Help! Help!!!
Anyone? Is anyone still there?!
The corridor outside the Life Support Center is equally dark, with only the red alarms flashing.
However, a faint silhouette can be seen there.
For safety, Schulz retrieves a wrench from beside the emergency valve and calls out cautiously.
Who's there?
It's me! Luwei! It's me!
Captain Schulz! You're still alive!
Luwei stumbles to Schulz's feet, tripping multiple times along the way.
Luwei!
What in the world is going on?
Mad... This is madness...
Everything's gone mad!
The hysterical man mumbles incoherently, his teeth chattering as his voice rises and falls erratically.
What do you mean?!
People... Those people...
And this ship! Everything's gone mad! Everything—
Slap!
To bring Luwei back to his senses, Schulz has no choice but to slap his face.
Calm down, Luwei!
Where's everyone? How did they go mad?!
But Luwei seems to be choking on something, uttering no more words and only shaking his head frantically.
Damn it...
In this situation, if Pioneer Leibowitz has indeed lost power and can't activate Kant, Schulz must make his way to the bridge. That is where he, as the captain, needs to be.
Directly beneath the bridge lie Kant's computer core and the engine room. To gain entry, he must retrieve the keycard from the bridge.
Luwei, can you still move?
Luwei nods at him.
Good, then get to your feet. We're heading to the bridge now.
No matter what has happened to this ship, I need to be there.
And since Kant can't be activated now, we have to go below the bridge to check on his status.
Trembling, Luwei rises from Schulz's feet, while Schulz tucks the wrench into his belt.
Stick with me. Visibility's too low here.
In the pitch-black corridor, the two stagger into the darkness.
Warning! Warning! Abnormal ship speed! Symmetry error! Power system error!
Gravitational wave anomaly detected! Photon reading anomaly detected!
Schulz struggles to navigate from the Life Support Center to the bridge, almost pulling Luwei along by his collar while clutching the wrench tightly in his other hand.
He remembers leaving the Life Support Center around 7 PM, yet by the time they arrive at the bridge, it is already 10 PM.
However, by this point, they can't really gauge time according to Earth's 24-hour cycle.
Upon their arrival, the bridge proves pitch-black as well, and the darkness even extends outside the window. Only a faint light emanates from the control panel situated at the center.
The entire Pioneer Leibowitz seems to be deprived of all light, as if put inside a pocket.
Damn it...
Where is everyone on the bridge? Where are the operators? Where did they go?!
Don't ask me... I have no idea either...
Still gripping Luwei's collar, Schulz lunges toward the control panel to check the status of Pioneer Leibowitz and retrieve the keycard.
Conventional Power Room... Warp Engine...
These readings only show errors, but what exactly is happening here?
Power is still being output... from the power room now?
But it doesn't make any sense... Isn't the power system down?
Where is it sending power? It's totally dark everywhere.
But this data—Arrrggghhh!
Luwei suddenly lets out a shriek, pointing somewhere across the control panel.
Across the control panel, a red, indescribable shadow looms.
Thump, thump, thump.
Help, help!!!!
Thump, thump, thump.
The red shadow remains motionless, seemingly bound by something.
The pumping sound comes from within the shadow.
What is that thing?!
Before Schulz can grasp the wrench at his waist, the shadow shows up beside Schulz. Attempting to pass through him, it appears to be blocked by something and instantly flickers back to its initial position.
However, this time, its lower body appears about five meters away from where it should have been.
Thump, thump, thump.
In a blink, another "lower body" flickers from the other side and "merges" with it.
Don't... don't kill me... No... Ahhhhh!!!!
If Schulz hadn't been tightly clutching Luwei, he would have lost his composure and dashed out of the bridge.
As if "startled" by Luwei's words, the shadow dims slightly before assuming an even more eerie form—
It seems to be a "person."
To be precise, it is a person with their skin pulled inward, with all internal organs and bones exposed, hanging on the outside.
The pale pink stomach, dark liver and lungs, milky white brain, and continuously twitching heart—all connected by membranes and ligaments to the unseen skin within.
It's as if someone has grasped the bottom of a pocket and flipped it inside out, interchanging the inner side with the outer one.
All the organs that a healthy human should possess are revealed in this manner, yet still functioning.
Thump, thump, thump.
It's only now that Schulz realizes the sound comes from the exposed heart that is rhythmically pumping blood.
Ugh...
Thump, thump, thump.
A "hand" woven from blood vessels and muscle fibers extends to grab the warm, soft "brain," while the other "hand" covers what should be the mouth, now just a dark hole.
Luwei is nearly petrified by the horrifying sight, but prevented from collapsing by Schulz's tight grip, he can only retch in helpless fear.
...When mountains stand before us, we shall ascend...
?
The dark hole starts emitting a wet, sticky voice, causing the pink trachea to wriggle up and down.
When vast seas unfold before us, we shall conquer...
Not for the sake of gain... we take action because the mountains and seas are there...
Schulz compels himself to maintain composure, discreetly extracting the keycard from the control panel and stowing it in his pocket. Meanwhile, he delves into his memories, trying to recall instances of this speech and voice.
But he finds nothing.
Now, only the universe stretches before us...
It's time to carve our path among the stars with swords and plows...
We shall... pledge all... to protect the Earth Federation, to safeguard human rights...
Let our galaxy... become a beacon of light in the universe...
Let humanity... reach that... point at infinity...
Even if... there is... only one...
The crimson, quivering "person" gradually ceases its "speech," with the trachea and exposed organs halting their wriggling. Like settled dust, it reverts back to its initial shadow form, no longer emitting "human" sounds.
It just stands there like a ghost, motionless.
Schulz grasps Luwei, who has collapsed on the ground, with one hand while clenching the wrench behind his back with the other hand. Slowly, he makes his way from the control panel toward the bridge door.
Ugh...
Luwei has already expelled the contents of his stomach entirely through vomiting along the way. Now, only stomach acid comes out, blending with the viscous, malodorous liquid on the ground.
Get up.
There's no one on the bridge. We need to head to the engine room below.
The engine room and the computer core room of the Pioneer Leibowitz are positioned directly beneath the bridge, nearly next to each other.
The ship's autonomous supercomputer, known as Kant, takes the form of a cubic structure measuring 3 kilometers on each side, resembling a colossal mechanical brain. Suspended at the center of this supercomputer is the engine room, serving as its brainstem.
The journey from the bridge to the engine room unfolds surprisingly smoothly for Schulz and Luwei as they encounter no obstacles along the way.
Each door opens flawlessly despite the power loss, yet as they descend further, the sticky liquid grows denser. While on the bridge, it was merely a slight splatter underfoot; in the engine room, it rises up to their knees.
The quantum warp engine, emitting a faint blue glow, spins slowly, appearing to function without any problems.
Multiple rings hover above the engine, rotating asynchronously around a central point. These rings only synchronize when the ship is prepared for warp.
The engine looks fine, then why is there a power supply error?
Captain Schulz, I beg you...
Luwei clings to Schulz's sleeve, almost pleading.
Not... not here...
There are many things... I'm serious... Many things are talking.
What?
So many things in my head... still getting in... Get out! Get out!
No... don't tell me!
I don't want to know! I don't want to know!!
Luwei suddenly erupts with strength that belies his frail frame. He seizes a crowbar and lunges at Schulz, who deftly dodges Luwei's frenzied attack.
What are you doing?!
No, no! I don't want to know!
He swings the crowbar in a frenzy, striking at the indiscernible colored liquid in the engine room.
Isolated system... No! That's wrong!! Energy is conserved... It's impossible!!
Light speed... This light speed is impossible! How can light speed be negative?!!
No... no... don't tell me!! I don't want to know anymore!!!
Luwei suddenly falls silent, his head drooping.
Luwei?
It's all too late.
What?
We've reached the end of this universe, the furthest humanity can go.
We cannot go any further.
Light and energy are also a type of information, but the universe is a blackboard.
For THEM, changing, establishing, or erasing rules is nothing different from manipulating chalk marks on a blackboard.
THEY do not exist in this mundane world but on a higher plane.
It's too late.
The warp engine abruptly accelerates, flashing a frenzied blue light.
Right at this moment, Luwei, standing before Schulz, melts.
Luwei!
His body, akin to ice in a desert, begins to bleed, then dissolves from his head down to his limbs, organs, and bones, blending seamlessly with the viscous liquid pooling at Schulz's feet.
Just like this, Luwei vanishes before Schulz in less than five seconds.
Damn it.
Schulz reaches for the wrench at his waist but soon realizes there's nothing remaining around that would make him draw his last defensive weapon.
In an instant, the rings realign on the same plane, standing upright on the engine platform like a dartboard awaiting its mark.
Thump, thump, thump.
Where Luwei had just melted, a shadow similar to the one on the bridge flickers into existence, only to vanish in a blink.
****ing hell.
Schulz spits and gazes back at the motionless quantum rings of the warp engine.
The rings of various sizes remain on the same plane, and the central circular hole resembles a pupil-less, eerie blue eye.
Schulz knows that at the core of those rings lies a center of mass, which allows the warp engine to maintain space-time continuity. In theory, it is through this tiny point that Pioneer Leibowitz can warp to various destinations.
The center of mass, transmitting infinite information, at the heart of the eye, seems to gaze directly at him.
Come...
A voice echoes in Schulz's mind.
The voice, akin to an oracle, emanates from within the warp engine, right from that tiny point.
Come...
At this moment, something beckons him, urging him to walk up to the altar-like engine platform.
He knows he shouldn't do this. It will violate the ship's protocols and regulations.
But he cannot resist the call.
Come...
Now, he finds himself standing directly before the plane formed by the quantum rings. Right before him rests the minuscule center of mass, invisible to the naked eye.
His mind is captivated by the oracle, his hand extending toward the hand of God—
****, no!
However, the realization dawns on him too late. He is on the brink of passing through the rings, a warmth spreading through his body.
Come!
Kant?
He plunges into the rings—
The last human in this universe floats in a bottomless abyss of void.
He opens his eyes, but everything around him remains dark.
Then he flips on the switch beside him—
Before him lies a massive black hole, with stars swirling around him.
He notices that the stars no longer shine brightly, and the accretion disk of the incomprehensibly large black hole has expanded, now encompassing several additional disks.
He surveys every galaxy in the sea of stars; the once fiery red giants have dimmed, leaving behind almost only white dwarfs and neutron stars.
PSR-Z1975+2253...
He searches for that particular star.
Not because he has to, but because he can, even though he doesn't know why he believes that he can locate it among the billions of stars.
But he only finds one conclusion—
Is this black hole... that pulsar?
Yes.
A gentle, gender-neutral voice converses with him above the bottomless abyss.
Who are you?
I'm one of THEM. I'm responsible for observing this universe bubble.
This universe is nearing its cooling phase.
But I've only been here for a minute.
Do you measure time in minutes?
Since that ship arrived here, 137 time crystals have passed.
An unseen gentle hand lays out meticulously arranged lines before Schulz, each line sufficient to narrate the birth and demise of dozens of galaxies.
The speed of light here was too slow, so I sped it up slightly.
Where's my ship?
Inside that dying star.
The voice guides his gaze toward the massive black hole.
So, it fell into the black hole. It's gone.
I can still see the information membrane of that little paper boat; it still exists. What makes you think it's gone?
And so does the brain of that machine... It still exists, just having become slower and dumber.
Right before Schulz, the accretion disk of PSR-Z1975+2253 suddenly flickers.
PSR-Z1975+2253 was supposed to be a pulsar.
I just painted something on it spontaneously when I was bored earlier.
But it matters to other people.
I don't see other people.
Where's my crew?
They couldn't handle the consequences of me speeding up time.
By the time I noticed, they had turned into irreversible basic particle structures.
But their information membranes remain, just like your ship.
The voice carries no trace of pity or sympathy.
So, this universe... is coming to its end soon?
Yes, but I found you quite interesting, so I kept you.
Kind-hearted, aren't you?
It does not matter to us.
Is this the end of the universe?
This star is the condensate center of this universe bubble. You are now standing at the endpoint, and the starting point will gradually come to you.
The accretion disk of the black hole flickers again.
A vague human figure floats before him.
A person! There's a person!
Someone's there!
Do you mean her? She is the end of Entropy. She is special.
Hey! You there!
Schulz shouts loudly toward the figure in the distance, waving his hands.
Yet the universe holds no obligation to let his voice travel; it ultimately succumbs to the black hole aglow with the blue light of death.
It's pointless.
She is the last answer in this universe bubble, yet I don't know what her question is.
The end of Entropy... Can she reverse all of this?
No. The destruction of this universe bubble is imminent, right within this time crystal.
Perhaps... in the next universe bubble, she will still be there.
Am I the last surviving human?
Yes. As I said, I just find you quite interesting.
But if you keep asking questions, I might become annoyed.
You can ask one last question or make one last request before this time crystal ends.
When we dispose of universe bubbles, life forms capable of interstellar travel often request a final glimpse of their home planet.
But 130 time crystals ago, your home planet had already turned into basic particles.
I can reconstruct it using its remaining information membrane and show it to you.
There's no need.
Schulz's gaze fixates on the "person" floating in the universe before him.
This is the end of the universe.
Everything is over, and it is meaningless to seek answers.
Every piece of information in this universe resonates within the voracious beast that engulfs all until it devours itself.
Its consumption persists until spirit and memory, matter and energy are all obliterated, bringing an end to time and space.
This universe bubble is about to end. You can ask one last question.
No more information, no more questions, and no more answers.
Who... am I?
In the dazzling white light, Schulz feels that same warmth washing over him.
He lies at the bottom of the abyss where there is no time, no space, and no meaning.
There is nothing—no sound, no light, and perhaps not even his own existence.
I'm sorry, child.
Those are the last words he hears.
