The Nomad's Book

Chapter 98,746 - Final Dawn

The tunnel was cold. Of course, everything was cold to me, so I wouldn't have known it, but recently it had been discovered that there was indeed 'warmth' somewhere in the universe, so now our miserable planet was deemed cold as well as depressing. Fantasic. I added a bit of annoyance into my routine echolocation hisses to make sure I wasn't hitting any walls.

"Oh," I heard from beside me. I checked in front of me, and detecting no walls, scrambled up the cliff. Someone was sitting on the top, dangling their feet off the edge – it was that being they called the Nomad.

"Hello," I said cordially as I arranged my centipedal body into a nonthreatening stance beside him. "Do you need something?"

"It's happening..." said the Nomad. He was a strange thing, with only four limbs, but his existence was a bit of a miracle as far as the others were concerned, because it proved there was other life in the universe. He wore thick, insulating clothing and a helmet, because apparently he couldn't breathe methane, which was too weird.

"What is?" I asked curiously. The Nomad was a fascinating being. What was this seeing he described? What good was it to see? Yet the way he went on about it... I also couldn't help wishing I was born with eyes. He made it sound beautiful. I wished I could know color.

"That's the last one," he murmured. I hissed, and my echolocation told me his head must have been pointed upwards, towards that sky he kept going on about.

"It's beautiful," whispered the Nomad. "I remember the stars. I had begun to think I would never see light again."

I was about to respond, but suddenly a tremor shook the ground. A slight one, so slight the Nomad didn't pick up on it. His other senses weren't nearly as impressive as his amazingly special sight. He didn't percieve any of the tremors that our Homeworld made.

But this shaking didn't come from the planet. My antennae felt in through the air as well, a tremor that shook from the sky. What had caused it? Could the Nomad see it, whatever it was?

"The world just shook," I said quietly. "Does that have something to do with your stars?"

"Yes," said the Nomad. I made a noise that told me he was facing me now. "Those were two neutron stars - the last. It's been so long since I saw anything. And now..."

His voice hitched, which I thought meant that he was happy? Or sad? Yes, sad, that was it. Such a weird emotion - I couldn't imagine it.

"Are you alright?" I inquired.

"No," he whispered. His head had changed position - looking at the "sky" again, no doubt. "No, it's not alright. It won't be, ever again. There will be no more light. The stars are dead."

"Dead? But they were never alive, were they?"

"Once they were," he said. "So very long ago, the void was covered with glittering stars. How beautiful they were - and I had almost forgotten their light." Another rustling of cloth - he had looked down at the ground again.

"Warmth?" I prompted. The Nomad was full of so very many legends and stories, if you could just wait around to hear them. Most others got bored and left, but not me. I wanted to hear about the universe before. I wanted to hear colorful stories.

"Yes," he said sadly. "Warmth. Oh, it was beautiful. The sunrise-" there was a sound a bit like muffled chuckling. After a few moments, he recovered. "The beauty of the universe was without knowing. It was what I dedicated myself to - exploring every part of our wonderous existence. And now it's gone. Dead."

There was a long pause. I couldn't feel sad, but thinking about what a beautiful time I missed - there was a sort of remorse, a regret. I listened to the Nomad with fascination. He was my one link to this colored existence.

"All things die," said the Nomad with another hitch. I wasn't sure it was sadness this time - it seemed almost like a dry laugh. "Eventually. I knew this was coming, and I knew I would never be prepared for it. I will dearly miss light, and color, and sight." A sigh. The Nomad sighed a lot.

"Will light come back?" I asked him.

There was another pause. Then eventually, "No. Not ever again."

The Nomad took a deep breath. His breathing used to annoy me - it was so loud compared to ours. But now I didn't mind.

"We live in a dark universe now," said the Nomad gently to me. "Once, stars shone with brilliant light, and warmth and diversity flourished throughout space. But one by one, the stars began to die. They grew so big, they imploded, and flickered into nothing."

I wondered how the Nomad had seen this. How much had he seen? How old was he? He always dodged the question.

"One by one by one. It is normal for stars to die, but there were so many, it seemed like it could never come to this. And they turned red, and began to die faster, until the night sky was populated by only a few red specks. And then they went out. The universe went cold. The planets froze and died. Everything died."

"Except for you?" I asked.

He sighed deeply. "Except for me."

"And us!" I said excitably. Our society was one of my favorite topics. How our species had managed to grow out of nothing in a frozen world was incredible - the Nomad said so himself, although he knew of a few others who had managed to do so too.

"Yes. Much to my disbelief, life finds a way."

"Like you did."

"Yes."

The tremors had stopped. Quiet.

"Sometimes I wish..." started the Nomad, and then fell silent.

What does he mean by that? I wondered. Sometimes I wish... that the stars were still here? I wish that it would never have ended? I wish I wasn't around to see the death of the only thing I love?

But the Nomad didn't respond – he only looked towards the sky.

"I wonder what will come next," I said suddenly. I'm not sure why I said it, but it seemed to change the posture of the Nomad.

"I do too," he said. "Although I'm quite sure it will be nothing, forever. Eventually, even we will die, and our molecules will crumble into nothing."

"Hmmm," I said noncomittally. "That doesn't sound great,"

"No, I'm pretty sure it won't be. But maybe... I'll finally get to rest, then."