The shaded figure sat in the middle of his space and felt the ebb and flow of a universe moving through her and beyond. There she saw the movement and birth of a new star. In another corner of the multiverse, on a slow and silent membrane, the last breath of life that was ever to be in existence was ready to be snuffed out.
With a thought, she focused on the brane as was her duty. She often felt the smallest of pangs when she was required to collect the energy that was used by an empty space, but there were others who needed it to expand and grow to their potential.
Still, she had to justify it. Was their time done?
She had the power to breathe life back into the brane, but it was not her position. Hers was about denouement not commencement. It was hers to collect and recycle. It was hers to witness the endings and record the history after the end had taken place.
Sometimes the ending was more bombastic than this. There were lights and energy and fuel that rippled across the eleven dimensions. These explosive effects punched through various branes in varying degrees. Quarks shifted. Stranges moved in even more unique ways. Quantum entanglements became more intrinsic and prolific.
Other times, like this one, the ending was somber. This one was quiet. The brane was tired and ancient. It had been in place long before she knew her destiny. It had been brought into existence through another ending. The entanglements moved and shoved against many membranes all at once.
As one brane touched another, the catalytic happened. The two came shifted and wrapped around each other in a micro-instant. It was the touch of creation. It was symmetry unbound in chaos. It was creation in effective mechanics.
There was no lover’s caress. There was no hint of lust. There was no wanting or heavy breathing. There was no anticipation of reaction. There was only the quantum mechanics of it all. Although the creation was lovely, there was no passion. The coupling was simply done and undone with no more feeling than driving home a nail with a hammer or turning a screw.
Even though it was a loveless creation, the brane moved and shifted quickly into creation. It was more than just an inherent existence for denizens to live, love, and lament. There was a subtle consciousness that was developed that reached out to it’s people.
The touch brought them not only closer to themselves, but also to each other. They called it ‘The Siring.’ It was their celebration of being in tune with their universe. It was their connection to the inherent power that was given to them by the membrane.
Sired individuals could manipulate the universe around them. They could defy the laws of known physics. They were the living embodiment of gods living amongst mortals. These dieforms flew through the air, held control over elements both known and unknown, displayed strength that was nearly immeasurable, and so much more.
They grew into factions and brotherhoods. Some, apollyon and demonic others were shepherds and protectors. These scions moved and shaped the universe to it’s greatest heights and most depraved lows. The Siring still moved and touched them. It lived through them. It fought and loved and killed and bore each of them in turn and simultaneously.
Some of the more powerful sired were able to punch holes into other membranes and see other vistas that were shared with few others. Many of these left long ago, before the first rattled cough that the brane itself uttered signaling it’s path towards the end.
She was one of them.
A tear welled up when she thought of her home. That tiny spark on the outer limb of a galaxy was a place of egregious beauty that was sacrificed for the greater good. The billions of souls moved from life to lifelessness to feed the hunger of another more powerful sired being.
The agreement was to satisfy and satiate a hunger with one world rather than tearing through the galaxy to make way to the hub where the super massive black holes sustained the galactic pull. It was one world or billions as the beast ingested bits of flotsam and jetsam on the way to the core where not only the shells of solar systems but also the gooey underpinnings that were stretched to infinity.
Her home had been sacrificed, but she and a few others survived to carry on. The beast that ate worlds moved on through the universe as the connection to the Siring dictated. It was in the brief instant when she sensed the last moment of her home membrane that she knew the beast was sufficiently overstuffed. The beast was finally sleeping and the membrane could send its last piece of power to send a message to the rest of the sired.
“My lovely ones, my special children. I will miss you as you will miss me. Use the gifts I have given you for your own means. Do not try to fight amongst yourselves, my loves. You are the last. Your brothers and sisters may not share your feelings, but do this for me.”
“I am not long for this wondrous existence we have shared. I am soon to be collected and redistributed where I am needed in the multiverse. Do not mourn, my loves, I exist in each one of you. As you carry on, so shall I.”
It was so much a mother’s touch and tender kiss. It was the warm smile and encompassing hug. It was the knowing she could never return home.
She closed her eyes and let the tears fall. The salty taste reached through her quivering lips. Heart swelling, she savored the last words she would ever hear from the Siring and finally let her go.
