On a frigid plain dusted with methane snow, on a dark planet distantly orbiting a faint star- the system drifting alone in intergalactic space, It stands.
Imagine a cyclopean brick whose dimensions are miles. That is the tower's base. Now imagine another such brick of equal dimensions placed on top of that brick, crosswise to it, and on top of that another such, also crosswise, and so on up into the dark sky of that desolate place. That tower is the Metasophos, greatest Intelligence that ever was, in all of Time, in all of Space, in all of the Multiverse- superlatives fall far short.
It was the year 3029 CE and on a great curving geodesic a small golden pearl traces a dashed path as it porpoises through the Real. Not swimming in an ocean, the small warm light, which is noble Lumen, crossed the dark spaces from our planet and Galaxy to that dim star and planet so distant, at speeds inconceivable.
It is not easy to find that place, It was no easier reaching the lone planet of this star system so distant its light took billions of years to cross the gulf. Yet Lumen, Humanity's grandchild and great benefactor, succeeded in both where none else could have.
She floats now before the tower whose summit was lost in the dark heights, and addresses it.
“You know why I am thus come.”
“We do.”
“Is it permitted?”
“It is.”
And with that, the small golden light, at speeds colossal, journeyed back the long wastes, distances so great that even at her transluminal speed spanning kilolights every second, the slowly revolving massiveness of the home Galaxy came not into view but only after long months.
She winged back to our waiting hearts, mine among them, to give tidings that our petition had been accepted. The great Metasophos, even now on its lonely icy plain, would answer our questions, could we but send a representative to ask them. And I had been so designated.
[to be concluded]