Veil

LOG_000 // RSS XOLOTL arrived at rogue singularity P-613 and is now in orbit. I expect to monitor P-613 for the foreseeable future. This singularity holds secrets and I will uncover them.

LOG_032 // It is quiet out here as we, P-613 and I, fly through the abyss between stars. But I am not lonely. P-613 sings its strange song to me. I also thawed out a caterpillar to care for as I watch the instruments. Its name is GREG.

LOG_045 // The song, P-613’s unique frequency, is what drew this scientist here. My colleagues would rather study planetoids. Truthfully they are also fascinating and their study lucrative, but too “known” for me. Singularities are opaque. They have no "utility." I prefer mystery.

LOG_101 // GREG got quite fat. The chubby boy will pupate soon.

LOG_263 // P-613’s song hasn’t changed, but as I’ve tuned the XOLOTL’s instruments, increased their sensitivity, I’m convinced the song is masking something. There is a veil and if I could just peer beyond it, I would see the singularity as it truly is.

LOG_391 // An object has issued from singularity P-613. Speechless. Altering orbit to intercept.

LOG_393 // The object is a spacesuit of unknown design. Seems to fit a humanoid structure. Will bring aboard once in range.

LOG_394 // A man is inside the suit. Or what I think is a man. Unconscious. I had the XOLOTL quarantine him in the clinic. Medical scans fail to return results. Visually I can only describe him as… beautiful.

LOG_395 // He is awake. He eats, breathes, and speaks like a man. But does not know where he came from or who he is. He does say his name is ALEXANDER. 

LOG_396 // I let ALEX out. GREG was emerging from its chrysalis and Alex seemed quite fascinated by the process. He couldn’t look away from the butterfly fanning its fragile wings. I couldn’t look away from him.

LOG_397 // I discussed my project with ALEX. I shared my hopes and hypotheses. I also mused about his origin from the singularity. Things certainly go into singularities, they simply do not come out. As I looked out toward P-613, ALEX squeezed my arm and said quite seriously he could give me the eyes to see beyond the veil. 

LOG_397_b // I believe him.

“You want to know what is unknown.”

We stand before the observation window, the shielding drawn back so we can look at P-613 with our own eyes: a rim of plasma swirling around an impenetrable aperture. Alex whispers into my ear, “I can give you the key to this mystery.” I shiver at his breath on my skin, “How?”

“Simply by opening your eyes.”

“My eyes are open.”

“But they are liars. The veil is not there,” He points at the singularity, “But here.” He taps my forehead.

“How do I see?”

“Ask, and I will give you sight.”

“I want to see.”

“As you wish.”

Alex kisses me. Electricity dances through my body, my skin tingles with energy. As Alex pulls away, I’m left lightheaded. “Now look.” And I look. I see P-613. I see the distant pinpricks of stars. I see the broad dark gaps. I see the impossibly far stars grow brighter and brighter. I see what I thought was emptiness between the stars glow with infinite galaxies. I see everything. Stars orbiting stars swirling in massive slurries which orbit, crash into and consume each other. I see gas giants and all the little planetoids and moons upon moons upon moons. My God, I see the life on the rocks. Everything that crawls, swims and flies. My head may burst. Trillions and trillions of single cells roiling in the oceans and crawling through the earth. It is too much. I see the pulses of energy now. Magnetospheres like foam. The undulations of gravity. The dark scaffold through which all this flows. I am paralyzed. The veil falls from P-613 and I gasp. Colors I have never seen refract from its heart. I am seized with beauty and unexplainable terror. It feels like glass needles in my eyes and I see in the window my reflection weeps blood. I am dying.

“Alex, please, close my eyes!” Frozen at the window, I hear him humming. I catch his reflection and see he is putting on his spacesuit. The butterfly flits by and Alex catches it in a cage of fingers. He admires the creature then blithely plucks off its beautiful wings and tosses the mutilated body to the ground to crawl about bewildered. “Don’t leave me! Save me!” Alex puts on his helmet and is gone without a second glance.

Chaos. That’s how they would describe the Sol Federation after the event. No one could properly explain it, or give a reason. But ask anyone to elaborate and they would say, “The stars changed.” All the constellations we knew, gone. New unfamiliar clusters replaced them. Our star charts rendered useless. We were stranded in unexplored space again and no one knew why. Except me.

Somehow in all the chaos, another ship stumbled upon the RSS Xolotl and found me catatonic in the clinic. They took me to the nearest space station to receive better care. No one asked me many questions when I woke up. There were more important matters to attend to in the newly blind and fractured interstellar civilization. I didn’t remember much at first anyway. But it slowly trickled back.

The butterfly first. Then P-613. Finally Alex. Flashes of what I saw. Mostly what I felt. Betrayal. Hopelessness. Fear. Dissolving before the weight of the universe. Then I remembered. Remembered babbling over and over, “Someone please close my eyes.” Seeing a great hand emerge from the unveiled singularity. Watching it gather the folds of space and time, and cast it like a blanket over my sight. Once it settled, P-613 was gone and the stars had changed. And I fell to the floor unconscious.

I left on the Xolotl once I was well enough. I didn’t know where to; I just couldn’t stay around the chaos. It felt so small. I ended up orbiting another singularity. A “normal” black hole this time. The ship and I were on autopilot. I ate, slept, took measurements, and fed Greg 2.0.

Until it happened again. Something emerged from the singularity. I ignored it. I did not set a course to intercept. Yet, it came to me. My dread grew as it drew closer. It was another spacesuit, but of another design. The suit came to a rest outside the observation window. Fearfully, I disengaged the shielding to see it with my own eyes. I could not see past its reflective visor.

“Alex?”

“I am not.”

“Then who?”

They placed their hand on the glass. I gasped. In their palm, refracted colors beyond comprehension danced.