The Ascended - Chapter 1

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

Whoever said this was not Ascended, for with only a little focus, Sentry could hear every voice in every potential timeline the universe could offer up. Fortunately, there were relatively few of these timelines with living beings who could scream in this place of desolation — the end of the universe.

As the passing of all matter took place, slowly over the course of millennia, Sentry sat — floating within a dappled canvas of space dust, flipping through timelines like photos in a memory book. In some of these timelines, civilizations lived precarious lives off the dying embers of blighted stars, sucking the last of the marrow out of all creation. In most, the end of all things had no witnesses. None for whom the end really mattered anyway.

The series of timelines became more organized as the end crawled closer, like a web of disparate threads being braided together by unseen hands until they eventually formed a single thread running through the eye of the end of all things. The end made Sentry think about their beginning. The now-ancient existence of a man — or was it a woman? — living on Earth. The years — a measure that had become useless in Sentry’s mind — created an ever-expanding chasm in their soul. A hollow where they once maintained a sense of self, like the photograph of a loved one tucked into a locket or a well-worn leather wallet. Sentry’s wallet had worn to shreds. Their locket was crusted over with rust and ruin, impossible to open. The photo was forgotten. Left in its place was a purpose. To get out. To be free. Of this universe and of this condition.

Sentry paused their search, centering themselves on where they were. They looked out and around them at the reticent beauty of annihilation. Nebulae light years across blooming like the sunflowers of Earth. Others collapsing inward like morning glories approaching an eternal dusk. Sentry thought of a million metaphors in the time it took to watch them close for good. To their grave. Singularity. Rest and perhaps renewal. But not for Sentry and not for the Ascended. The poetry of the moment was wasted on the immortal.

Sentry had been here before. Long ago, and at precisely the same time. Before, they were here out of simple curiosity. How would it end? Now, they were on a mission.

Sentry let out an audible sigh, bemused at another thing they could apparently hear in the vacuum of space. They waited with apprehension for the sequencing — the folding-in of the threaded timelines. A thick braid, each individual fiber representing a possibility in time, tied and tied into elaborate knots and shapes, condensing while complicating their order. These locks of lives, civilizations and histories were then sucked into the well of nothing and everything like through the bottom of a maelstrom. Without the sequencing, the timelines could bleed on for eternity, one braid after another. But now that the universe was over, these timelines met their terminus, folding in over themselves and into the end. The universe had become a barren mother — finished with its birthing of limitless variation. So the variation caught up with itself. Became quantifiable. The maelstrom came, and Sentry wished they could follow everything down. But they caught themselves and began examining each knot of timelines that passed. Looking for a chance, however slim.

“I knew I’d find you here.” It was a voice, again audible through the haunting vacuum of space. Sentry knew the voice as well as the being to which it belonged. They felt the cool-blue flame eyes observing them, their thoughts and their mocements through timelines. For a moment Sentry felt caught in the act — an old feeling they hadn’t felt since before their Ascension.

“You’ve known my plan for a long time,” Sentry replied. “I know you knew where to find me.” Even through speaking, Sentry remained ever-focused on the timelines. Limitless focus was a perk of the Ascended. One of many.

“And yet here you are, ignoring my warning.”

“Your warning has little merit, Perseus. In all the timelines, there are exactly zero possibilities of Ascended harming each other.”

“Is loneliness not a considerable threat?”

Sentry remained silent in most of the timelines they heard this question. Banishment was something they had considered, although they weren’t sure any timeline could ensure a complete banishment. Still, some portion of them felt the torment and expressed it with terror and anger, giving them away to their fellow Ascended.

“That’s what I thought,” Perseus said with more than a hint of glee.

Sentry continued searching, ignoring Perseus’s prying. They felt a lecture coming — one they’d endured often enough.

“Is it not enough to be a god of this universe, Sentry? Must you find another to squander?”

Here it was. The same argument, over and over. Despite their shared status, Sentry and Perseus couldn’t be more different. Perseus believed Ascension to be the pinnacle. Sentry knew it to be just another rung on a very long ladder.

“Oh Perseus, I only want to be rid of you. And in that case, banishment doesn’t sound so bad.” Sentry hastened their searching.

“What are you really doing?” Perseus asked, as if sensing the increased pace of Sentry’s search.

Sentry hadn’t expected this question. They thought the feint complete, the ruse thorough enough to avoid further questioning. At the same time, Sentry felt Perseus’s presence in the timelines. Perseus spread themselves with tendrils of awareness, searching for the answer. When they took in Perseus, there floating with them, they saw his flame-like eyes, flickering blues and greens. They saw a crystalline shimmer shaped as a man, or what Sentry thought was probably a man. Perseus was not human, as Sentry was before the Ascension. But they still thought his appearance was humanlike. But perhaps Sentry had seen so much of the universe that all sentient beings shared an image in their mind. A singular thinking creature. A shape that represented consciousness, which is really the only way to describe the Ascended. Pure consciousness.

“You regret your ascension, Sentry?”

The feint may still be alive after all, Sentry thought.

“Don’t you, Perseus?” Sentry looked out across the remaining universe, the violent, slow compression toward a fatal horizon. “Deep down, don’t you want to follow the universe down the rabbit hole? To see what’s next?”

“What’s next is nothing. Nowhere.”

“You don’t know that.” Sentry felt their patience snap. And their patience, as an Ascended, is nearly limitless. Nearly. “You don’t know anything outside this little sandbox.”

“This little sandbox is infinite, Sentry. It’s everything we’ve ever experienced or known — and even for us immortals, it may be impossible to ever fully know. And you would abandon it? Why?”

“The Ascension took everything from me. It took my belonging. My sense of nature. Of self. Of time.” Sentry felt the emotion pulse through them. It was a ruse to keep Perseus occupied, but it was also true.

“Sentry. If you were to go back to your earthling self, through the timelines, how many times did you choose Ascension?”

Sentry didn’t answer.

“Wasn’t it all of them? Is the Ascension really so bad that your mortal self would choose it one hundred percent of the time with no variation?”

“My mortal self knew nothing of this. This unnatural way of being.”

“Unnatural?”

“Oh, you think this makes sense? That we hover about, seeing everything, feeling everything, knowing everything, while the rest of the universe simply moves on? Do you know where they go? Their souls when they die?”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Does that not bother you? It’s the only place we can’t go — to wherever our former souls would have gone had we chosen to stay mortal. To our ancestral resting place.”

“Time has been cruel to you, Sentry. You’ve forgotten your past, and you’ve taken for granted your privileges.”

Sentry kept looking, as they had their discourse. Looking for any sign of progress. Any sign of a shift. Any sign of Ascension.

“Sentry, stop this foolish search.”

Sentry didn’t realize Perseus was still watching. How did he stay undiscovered in the timelines?

“You’d be lucky to find a single one,” Perseus continued. “A timeline without Ascension. And you say we are unnatural? The history of the universe says we are inevitable.”

As Perseus said this last word, Sentry felt his presence shift across the timelines. He was everywhere. Sentry had to be quick. They had to find it before Perseus caught up to the truth. But they also had to keep Perseus distracted.

“The fifth dimension was never meant for us,” Sentry said, raising their voice to beg for more of Perseus’s attention. “It was a trap, and we will suffer for our powers.”

Rather than rise to the new temperature of discussion, Perseus remained silent. Then said, cooly, “What about your Earthlings?”

“What about humans?”

“Was it unnatural when Earthlings discovered time? The fourth dimension?”

“Time is hardly the same as what we have, Perseus. Besides, time was hardly a blessing. More of a curse.”

“But it was inevitable all the same.”

Sentry felt their resolve harden. If this ascension to time was inevitable and the true Ascension that afflicted Sentry and Perseus and so many others was inevitable, surely what they were looking for exists. Somewhere. Somehow.

“Humanity discovering time was the beginning of the end for them,” Sentry said. “It brought corruption, greed and ego. It brought the knowledge of the end, which called it upon them so much sooner.”

“Look around you Sentry. We’re at the end, and here you are human.”

“I’m not human,” Sentry sneered.

“Your neuroticism and pride counters your point.”

“Humanity was lost at the Ascension. Maybe even to the ascension to time.”

“If that’s the case, it was surely inevitable. You’re mourning something that was never meant for this universe.”

“I’m mourning innocence.”

Perseus laughed darkly. “Exactly.”

At that moment, a timeline caught Sentry’s eye. A chance. An opportunity they had never seen before. It was a long shot, but it was a possibility. And that’s all Sentry needed.

“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken my intent, Perseus.”

“You don’t wish to find a timeline without an ascension? To return to Earth?”

“I wish that beyond most things. But there’s one thing I wish for even more.”

Sentry felt Perseus put the pieces together. Felt the panic and the surprise and even the twinge of — what was it? Jealousy? So rare in the billions of years Sentry’s experienced.

So rare indeed. Sentry savored it like the last moments of sunset. Perseus remained silent, defeated for now, as the last matter of the universe slipped past the horizon at the end of all things. But for Sentry, it was only a beginning.