“Do you think we will by chance be where he is?”
“Doubt it.”
“How many will die amongst us?”
Just in one was necessary to get them off of the sun. They knew it couldn’t be done without a collective, two people required to end their solar prison. They could die and destabilize their bodies to warp them out of time and space; a black hole. They called it, singularity for multiple reasons. It’s never been done more than once, and when it was done they ended up on the sun. Could they do it and end up the sun was the real question, there was some calculation for this, an incomplete equation that would get them within a few parsecs from earth.
“Alfus, we come to take the earth.”
On the space station an indefinite quiescence lingered around the home of the people who called themselves “human.” In a conference among those of old, (certainly not older than Alfus) they were of emotion who chose to, instead live to converse about the peculiar situation.
“So? We aren’t crying… but they are silent! Who do they know how to know that they don’t know what to feel?”
“Are they not perfect? The perfect “does not compute” act of loss has infinite possibilities.”
” I agree, the thrill of life has two answers. That fall on the realm of likes and dislikes. But, death!? Has the 4; like, dislike, regret and ignorance.”
“Are they melding? Is it a salad of emotion or a soup of emotion?”
They talked about the sentiments that befell the station. In truth Alfus always when he was ready murdered a select few when he was frustrated. They new he was weakened once he did with the precautions he had in place. If he wasn’t specially caged, it would have been effortless. They sent him down to their champion who would weaken him further for blood, to try to extract ethereal. They had one drop and since then, he had been careful. The conference of elders, if they had to be titled, glorified the droplet. They were linked together in goal, much like the “eternals” were in mind. They eagerly awaited for their champion to wear down an already weakened Alfus, for more blood. They watched Alfus fight the champion and eventually he won.
Then they realized, “Is he getting stronger?”
“CHECK THE SUN!”
They scanned the sun and there they a ball of blue. The scanner acknowledged the area of lowered temperature and preceded to check with their oracle, for a visual. A solar flare blasted a few hundred miles out into space and then they saw a a large piece of the sun, collapse.
“Buh-lak Hol,” the elder said.
The brief moment on the sun un-coursed the station a few degrees off of its rotation. Even the earth’s floating pieces noticeably shifted. The sun destabilized for a few moments before replacing what it lost with a giant flare.
“Their gone… the oracle can’t find them.”
“How many?”
“6”
“How?”
The age old question. One time in history the ninth eternal had created the cracked earth Alfus is now fought on. They remembered. The orcale alarmed and repeatedly announced for the rooms purpose, “WARNING, 6 objects detected one light year away from station.” It could be them. It had to be them.
The youngest elder suddenly detached himself from the ideal. In great fashion, he runs for the ethereal that was in the middle of the room. Drank the drop. The room was in silence and then because they had their human element in tact, they knew what was imminent once they saw his eyes glow. They too died. He called in the futuristic PA, battle stations everyone.
He walked some more steps and he felt it. The surge of everything. Anything that could be felt could be touched could be understood. And then he heard them.
“Hello.”
Oliver Wynter Blog 