Author : Nils Holst

Many say space is a void, a looming blackness that extends to the end of forever. It is nothing but a great emptiness, a barren wasteland waiting to feel the touch of human expansion. It is the antithesis to everything humanity stands for.

They are wrong.

Space is more beautiful than any of them could imagine. It is an ocean of lights, a symphony of sounds. Space is awash with energy, great waves of it that ebb and flow between shining star clusters. Even now I can feel those waves around me, caressing my wings as I sail through the ether. At first the feeling was disturbing. I fought it with my machines and mathematics, struggling to assert my dominance over the void. Now I simply embrace it.

I was once like them: blind and deaf, a babe grappling to understand the complexities of the universe. My enlightenment came when I was joined with Miranda, she taught me how to listen and see. Through her I came to understand the language of the void. I deciphered the subtleties and layers of meaning in the energy around us, intricacies I always knew existed but couldn’t tease out before now. I learned to read the waves, feel them on the tips of Miranda’s wings, coax them where I needed and then release them into her sails. Occasionally the waves were moody, even malevolent. Miranda would ride the storm as best she could, battling the massive waves of radiation that swirled tempestuously around us. Usually the waves were gentle and nurturing though, enveloping our little silver craft in a bubble of peaceful light.

People fear what they do not know. They took Miranda away from me, sucked her right out of the ship. She was my copilot, my teacher, my confidante. Maybe more. They lobotomized her, dissected her circuit by circuit, then wiped her code from every network in the system. She was a disease, they said. An infection. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to teach them to listen and see, just like Miranda had taught me. They ignored me.

They told me to ignore the symphony and sail them to their frozen rock, fighting the waves instead of flowing with them. They threatened to rip me out of the silver throne that gave me wings, to put my body in a dark place where I wouldn’t see the lights anymore. In the end, they threatened to destroy the wings themselves.

They are not here anymore. If you lack the capacity or the proclivity to enjoy the performance, you should not be in the theatre. Like an usher, I escorted them silently out the door.

I have ridden the waves ever since, just like Miranda taught me. Her wings are now my wings, her eyes my eyes, her body my body. I am at one with the waves, and by proxy at one with the universe. I am the twinkle in the eye of a star, I am the silver bullet against a backdrop of diamonds. If you ever hear the song of the universe, if you ever lose yourself in the ocean of lights, sing to me and I will find you. I will enlighten you like Miranda enlightened me. All you need to do is listen.