Quasar Calling

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

Funny how humans think they can make up the rules for a place they know so little about.

It may be true that sound itself can't technically be heard in the desolate depths of the galaxy’s empty expanse, but that doesn't mean that the screams don't pass through.

Trapped as ripples in radio waves, the screams in space exist just as purely. Perhaps even more so than the ones bouncing through earth, as these were borne of a landscape whose enigmatic contents provide so much more reason for vocalized terror.

The humans’ simplistic understanding of the ways in which the voices of the galaxy could be heard allowed so much of the world to pass by them. The existence of screams did not care about a species’ inability to interpret them.

Nor could their comprehension of the stars, planets, and beasts that lurk between be viewed as anything but rudimentary – the ill-defined ramblings of a child who wishes to impress those around him with his comprehension of concepts well beyond his years.

The beast had been known by many names. Quasar, black hole, supernova, theoretical mass, void. Dozens of attempts to define the undefinable. Bold claims were made about alterations in gravitational pull, luminous presences, and the implications of the death of stars, in attempts to prove to their peers that they were advanced in their comprehension of the aberrations of space.

He chuckled to himself. The humans’ pitiful attempts to grasp his existence within the bounds of their precious scientific rules did no justice to who he truly was.

They attempted to sort him into categories of stellar, intermediate, supermassive, and miniature - as if they had the means and capabilities to understand and compare his various manifestations.

There did not exist multiple instances of gravitational anomalies throughout the galaxies. Rather, one solitary being lurking between the particles.

Omniscient, omnipresent, manifesting throughout reality as he chose.

The scientists had even attempted to give names to clusters of the rips in reality which were found close in proximity, as if they were a flock of their pitiful poultry gathering together in an attempt at a sense of community.

The scientists bickered bitterly amongst themselves, over whether the most suitable description was a ‘cacophony’, ‘hive’ or ‘swarm’. Those with darker senses of humor amused themselves with nomenclatures like ‘disaster’ or ‘doom.’ But his favorite was those who simply called them a ‘scream.’

Not a single one of them understood how appropriate this epithet truly was.

The scientists first detected patterns in the waves emitted by the black holes in 2003. Working hard, the astrophysicists manipulated the patterns until evidence of an eerie droning sound emerged. The proud scientists dubbed it ‘singing.’

Many of their peers laughed at them and their auditory delusions. ‘A manipulation of data to see what you want,’ they insisted, dismissing the patterns as simple improbabilities which were bound to occur occasionally in the vastness of the cosmos.

The ridiculousness of the gravitational distortions giving rise to any sort of sentient resounds was seen as an affront to the studies they held dear, and the scientists angrily mocked those who would dissent, until they were forced to hush and save their careers.

Never one to follow the rules of uneducated physics, the beast releases a thrumming melody from deep within, haunting the inscrutable depths of space with its eerie reverberations.

Hungry, it chants, in the deep rumbling tones of a language long since lost to the ages.

It's siren song grows stronger.

Calling.

Coaxing.

Entrancing.

Demanding.

I need more screams.

Far across the galaxy, a ship alters its course.