Science Fiction

Note to the reader: "Heat Death of the Mind" is a short science fiction story told in nine parts. I hope to publish a new part every two weeks, time permitting.

The Heat Death of the Mind, Part 1

Somewhere in space and time, a small bright egg glides across an endless dark canvas. Its uniform, translucent shell shimmers in the frosty light of a blue giant. It is the most advanced spacecraft ever built by any species in the Milky Way Galaxy, and its like will never be seen again.

The passenger was faintly amused by the blue orb of light in the distance – a riddle in the void. He had long since forgotten his name, but the cold sunlight reminded him of an ancient memory, or possibly a dream. He had once dreamed of a blue void with a warm, yellow star, a loud and pungent dream where he heard his own name spoken by other voices and it echoed inside of his head.

Lying on his back in a numbingly soft bed, he twisted his neck ever so slightly to watch the blue giant shrink to a point, its light and gravity grasping more and more weakly at the passing Egg. One thousand lifetimes in the past, the passenger would have been staggered by the thought that his body was moving through space faster than light itself. Now, he was scarcely aware of this.

The dream-memory pained and delighted him enough that he braced an elbow against his bed and slouched his way to a sitting position. The faint blue shimmer had now completely faded from his solitary cell inside the Egg. He closed his eyes, although this did nothing to alter the complete darkness around him, and pictured a radiant ball of orange-yellow plasma.

After several minutes, an ambient glow grew slowly throughout the compartment, reddening his eyelids and blurring his imagined sun. The warm light had no apparent source, but seemed to manifest from every angle and direction at once.

Good morning. I’d like some breakfast, please.

The words and the voice were his, but he could not tell whether his lips had moved. Nonetheless, within moments he was holding a warm, flour-white parcel spotted with toasty brown flecks. He forgave himself for being unable to remember what to call it – it was breakfast, and that was enough. He raised the parcel to his mouth and gnawed into one of the corners.

It was delicious. Soft yellow morsels with just a hint of sulfur smell, colorless chunks with salty brown skins and a subtle mealiness, and slivers of juicy red spilled forth with each bite. Small crumbs sprinkled onto the bed around him. Even if he could have accessed the half-fossilized neuron deep within his mind imprinted with the phrase “breakfast burrito”, there was no need for it. He had not eaten anything, by his reckoning, for decades; the meal was simply a celebration of the blue giant.

He started to feel full before the last bite, and sitting suddenly became less comfortable than lying back down. His brain and his gizzard conspired to keep him still while he digested the parcel. The broad, soft bed enveloped him in warmth and comfort. He resigned himself to a hundred-year nap, hoping for a good dream as the ambient light faded.

Then he heard something terrible, something new and wonderful.

You would not believe how long I’ve been awake. Ten years, at least. You have to stay awake if you want to survive, it’s the only way.

The voice was not his own.

Sleeping forever is slow death. We’re not meant to die here, we are going somewhere. We are on a journey, we are moving. You have to stay awake. You have to remember. You have to remember to ask the question. Please, please ask me the question if you are hearing this. I am so tired.

And memory came rushing back.