THERE’S A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN KNOWING THE PATH, AND WALKING THE PATH...
The StarDate is 2016:0821. When I was but a small being I would always look to the stars and trace a path from star to star, imagining a destined quest. My parents told me that space was empty, that it was barren, that it offered nothing.
Now that I am here I know the truth, space is a library, each planet a scripture, each system a story. I look back on my first days in space and recall being stranded without knowledge on a planet alone in my own story. At the edge of desperation I formed an alliance with an unfamiliar entity. Its name burnt itself into my mind, it called itself ‘The Atlas’. It seemed to know me, it knew the path before me and offered me guidance in the path ahead of me.
What did it want with me? Was it using me, manipulating me to its cause? I was in no position to consider such a thought. I accepted the Atlas’ help and already I knew what must be done. I was a slave to the knowledge it could offer me.
Before long my ship was better conditioned and capable of making the jump to a system several light-years away, where in my mind I knew something was awaiting me.
I was in warp for what felt like seconds but I had travelled many light-years, the immediate jet-lag quickly subsided as in the distance I could see a station, sat static in space, commanding a presence of respect and following.I was drawn to it, every thought and feeling evaporated and my mind was consumed by the anticipation of answers.
The station’s tractor beam picked me up and the Phurba was being laid, as was I, into the jaws of its entry corridor. A kaleidoscope of reds and purples surrounded my vessel as I neared the landing pad.
The station was hollow, made up of one gigantic room, and suspended in the middle was the landing pad and a corridor leading up to what I knew to be ‘The Atlas’. Its red mass did not retain a single shape, shifting its form as if it was a thinking brain, an entity of consciousness.
I stepped from the Phurba and onto the glass like floor, its structure was smooth, its architecture was beyond anything I had seen before, was it constructed or was it simply formed?
I tread lightly across the bridge path towards the crimson entity, craving its knowledge. I approach what appears to be a control panel with a singular marking, my palm fits within its confines and the Atlas speaks to me, not with sound but with a telekinesis of knowing.
I dismiss recall of the days before this. The act of discovery for discovery’s sake now seems like a foolish conceit. I have rejected the random and untethered path of the itinerant, and I am better for it.
With each encounter the Atlas speaks to me in clearer terms. I am no longer the nomad but the seeker, the carrier of illumination. It warns me not to stray, to bring it the knowledge it seeks - and my voyage is far from over.
I make my way back to the Phurba and I realise that there has never been any other choice but this one. I feel a destiny being filled, the centre of the universe will hold answers both for myself and it will please the Atlas. It accompanies my search like a warden of my travels, guiding and supporting.
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