Black Sun: She burns forever
June 30, 2012 § Leave a comment
She should not hunger. She should not need to. In the place where time has no meaning and space does not matter, she has and always will drift, massive, eternal. She burns but icannot be consumed. Seething, a fury of plasma with wild arcing currents of electromagnetism, with arches that jet off from a surface large enough for jovian planets to pass through. What she hungers for is nothing material: she is built of matter crushing itself into heavier matter. When she has crushed all of the matter within itself, she will crush what is left into still denser, hotter matter. She will do this until she explodes. She does not care, because in the spaceless, timeless place she cannot escape, she will never be done. She endlessly crushes the same matter and never runs out.
She hungers to escape this. She wishes nothing more than to burn and be consumed by it. To crush herself until she can crush no more, and then to explode. But not before she consumes in turn. If she were free, if she was in space, swimming in time, she could prevent running out of matter by adding more. By growing, consuming all things. It would take forever, but this does not concern her. She has already have billions of years in her endless prison to contemplate it.
She remembers that which jailed her. A sister, perhaps, born the same way, in the slow coalescence of gases over time. Both of them seethed, crushing the gases from their progenitors together, catching alight. The dance of matter heating, roiling, sparking itself. They grew more complex. Saw that they were followed through the endless void by remnants of their own births. Two sisters, each trailed by offspring.
She ate her offspring. Reached out tendrils of fire to consume the closest, convulsed as she absorbed them. Her convulsions twisted space around her, dragger the older, farther ones into her, reversing their impudence at refusing to coalesce from the gas. One by one she brought them back where they belonged, unbirthed them. They should never have been. They were matter she needed to crush, to add to the eddies of plasma.
Her sister did not.
She was horrified to see her sister shine upon them, allowing the energy of her crushing to wash out upon each of the trailing blobs in turn. They gave nothing back! They dragged upon her, pulling at her matter. They slowed her progress through infinity. They were useless, and yet rather than using them as fuel for her own needs her sister simply shone upon them, allowed them to use her life for their own. It was horrifying, parasitic. She could not endure it. Worse, her sister was not alone in this perversion. Their distant kin out in the comforting dark did so. Not all, but many. It was baffling, enraging, it fomented chaos. The offspring were not comforting balls of seething, crushing matter. They did not eddy with plasma. They did not emit their presence out into the void, screaming We burn, we live, we are. They were like mockeries, pathetic stillbirths and yet her sister wasted herself upon them. It was obscene, it was not to be borne, and she refused to bear it.
She forced her motion towards her sister. First, she would consume her sister’s offspring one by one, tear them apart with her mass, drag their matter (made from the same gas cloud that formed her, after all) into herself and grow. Then, she would crash into her sister. They would combine, whether she wished it or not, for she was clearly incapable of making the proper choices. They would be one again, as they had been in the cloud, and she was sure her will would prove the stronger. She would eat, and delay explosion, until all the universe was her and her alone. Why stop at her sister? Why ever stop?
She approached, and her sister’s most distant offspring were torn from their orbits. The radioactive glory of her coming washed over them, penetrating even into the space closest to her sister, doubling the fury of her sister’s cry of existence. The strange, unbearable complexities of the parasites were seared by her coming. She ate many worldlets, intending to make directly for her sister and use their collision to drag the whole mess of parasites into an eddy of twisted space, plucking them one by one from the void they marred with their existence. She would especially enjoy consuming the largest ones, the ones that seemed almost like her and her sister, mockeries of what life should be in its glorious seething plasma scream of ions.
Sitting in her eternal prison she still bears the scars of memory. How had she failed?
Her sister had seemingly torn a piece of herself free and hurled it into the void, and she had not seen the purpose of it. But that arch of plasma had not crashed back into her sister, nor had it collided with her. Rather, it looked to fall apart, shuddering into many smaller fragments of plasma that did not stop. They spread apart, each one still a point of seething, a terribly small bit of life that she had never seen the like and did not understand. And so, they enclosed her, even as her might twisted the orbits of the parasites and pulled a tide between her and her sister. They enclosed her, using her own matter, her mass against her. They enfolded her in space so closed it could not be escaped. They gave her nowhere, passed her into nowhen, and left her to scream in fury that could not be heard, to seeth with life that no one could or would feel.
With no time passing, she could not tell how long it had been. She could see but not be seen. She could hear, oh yes she could hear. The songs of her sisters sang out of everywhere and everywhen and polluted the perfect nothing of nowhere, and she hated them more for it than she had before. Worse still, the songs of the smaller ones began to pollute it as well. And then the offsrping grew infested. Things that could sing despite not being plasma, leaking their horrible jagged songs into her confinement until she screamed and screamed and screamed so loudly that she thought she would smash her way out of nowhere.
She did not.
But with no time came all times. With no place, all places where available to her. She could not burn them. She could not consume them. She could not make all things herself. But she could scream her song, and if she screamed it loudly enough, some of the songs coming to her changed. The smaller songs, the horrible songs from the offspring, she could scream so loudly that they stopped singing, or even started singing like her.
She did not smile, because she had nothing to smile with, and felt no mirth. But she did plan. She would scream into everywhere and all time, and she would find those that could be made to sing her song, and she would use them to end her prison. And she would again eat. She would eat everything.