What They Saw

This is what Lucifer saw, they say. (Before the sky broke open)

This is what Icarus saw. (Before he ran a knife across his wings and fell)

This is what Oppenheimer saw. (Before he tied himself to the tower and detonated Trinity)

This is what the crew of Apollo 19 saw. (Before they removed their helmets and tore off their suits)

It sits before me now, burning in the centre of my vision, mocking my arrogance, eating away at my mind. A single golden teardrop, at first. It has grown quickly, in the space between frantic heartbeats. Through it, I see the world as it truly is, without the comforting delusions we project. No blue skies and sunsets or fields, no dreary greys of choking fogs, no towering pillars or lush forests. An emptiness, stretching outwards forever in all directions, punctuated only by specks of dust.

A slow wind tears at me, picking up speed, ripping my skin from my grasp, and in that hurricane I watch it decay, in seconds that last millenia, flesh disintegrating in the infinity of nothings. In that moment, I feel my purpose abraded, my perspective, my sense of being. All now gone, all with the dust that is all that will remain of us. Slowly, something not unlike a revelation is revealed, as all else is blown into the storm. All this is meaningless. All we are, all we ever do, all we ever can do, is dust in the end. All our strifes, our petty acts of defiance in prolonging our survival must always be for naught.

I make a simple, single choice, in that moment. It doesn’t take much. A nudge of a thruster, a press of a button. A rocket roars for a few hours, then silence once again rules the ship. There will be screams, of course. Panic across the globe, once they realise. That was what happened here. They were not ready. By the time the news reaches them, though, the window for action will have long since been clawed away by time. There will be nothing they can do but speculate, and theorise, and regret.

They will never witness this final glory, as the ark falls starward, as humanity’s greatest endeavour turns to vapour. Those on board will never know the mercy I have bought them, of course. The cryosleep chambers have warnings, of course, but as the only animate crew member left it was easy enough to disable them. The star is nearer every time I look. Proxima Centauri Earth’s nearest neighbour. The red glow sears itself into my retinas, trying to displace the herald that showed me my purpose. It could not succeed. Even if it did, the damage is done. My purpose complete, I await conclusion.