On one of those empty days, the Thecnetos
sent with his Emissary a strange "letter", the first event in a rare
series. Its inexplicable content briefly saved me from loneliness and silence;
it was a pause in the constant banality of the world. Now that I understood
everything, I feel exhausted to contemplate the very long road that all things
have traveled to become.
Everything is too far
away on the last planet, too deep in a vacuum. Nothing has happened in millions
of years, nor does anything seem to happen now. How cold is its vastness! What
ephemeral and volatile events in so long, in such a vast landscape!
The depth of the Ouranos[1]
around it is exhaustingly extensive and its usual content is the perfect void.
How strange it is to think the universe like this! An infinity of impeccable
nothing. Perhaps it would be better to think that the universe is only this
planet, and that, beyond its atmosphere, everything is "not being".
That cosmos, time and space cease at its edges.
But it would not be
correct. It was not always so. Before there were millions of stars and other
shiny things floating in the Ouranos.
But, after trillions of years of expansion of the universe, only this cold
world remained. Between this and some hypothetical "other" there is
now an insurmountable abyss, an endless space, impossible to be traveled;
impossible even to be thought of. And if there were a "something"
floating in some "other place", it could never reach us.
Because of this, our sky
lacks stars or some form of external light. Only perhaps, here and there, some
minimum brightness, like a blur in the impeccable blackness of the sky, that
perhaps will be the blurred echo of the worlds already disappeared.
Only very rarely in this
darkness, blacker than any previously known, does matter occur: solitary and
mute. Foolishly, there is still matter instead of nothing.
But given the darkness
that covers it, that matter is always sunk in invisible depths.
And it is that these
times are for the cosmos like a sunset, but one in which the light does not go
out, but the time. We are in the final stages of the expansion of the universe,
an evanescent universe that is now approaching its last abyss. And it himself
is the hole in that abyss. A universe so diluted and dispersed that it will not
bring about a great change when at the end of its expansion, instead of it,
nothing appears.
The landscapes, unaware
of themselves, lack any spectator, organic or even mechanical. Nobody or
nothing knows the different worlds that eventually appear and disappear in what
we call "reality"; nothing interrupts stillness and silence. This is
how lonely and still the last planet is and that's also how we are: the last
human beings to populate it.
Yes, incredibly humans
have survived the death of the cosmos and the fading of matter; we are lost in
the cracks of an exhausted future. I don't know how this was possible when
everything else died! That is why it is necessary to believe, although without
any other proof than this, that there is the Thecnetos and its servant, the
ever vigilant Emissary.
I don't have a name
and I don't know who I am, because only what makes sense or an explanation has
a name. And I don't have it. It is rare that we are and it is rarer what we
are: conscious things. How did our sensitivity arise from the insensitivity of
our flesh? Nobody knows.
We are not born from
other men; we are artificially made in the mechanical avernus[2]
and more deeply I will say that we are born of random. Later I will relate my
birth so that - using me as an example - you know how the last men born on the
last planet.
Little remember of my
birth, but I know that I am not an immortal: before a certain date, I was
nothing. After my artificial conception, slowly, something without size or
weight emerged from my brain. And in my flesh as unconscious as the stones,
what we call "I" lit up. With the insensitive molecules of my body,
as dead as the other molecules in the world, something alive was made - I don't
know how - capable of feeling the passage of time. But not as a clock that only
measures it without feeling it, but as a living consciousness that is itself
the flow of time.
But those memories have
already been erased or I confuse with what I guess will be my future. But I
know that they are not completely lost: they are in the Thecnetos, in their
memory and in their power of total premonition.
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