The Traveller

by Anthony John

Light.

Warmth.

Consciousness returning.

As the Traveller came to the outer reaches of the next star system in its long orbit, and the light and heat intensity rose, it gradually woke from its long, deep slumber. It’s immense circular course through the galaxy had taken it through thousands of such systems. Each different. Each the same. Its velocity, although incomprehensible to other intelligences, still meant it spent long periods between stars. In those periods, with little energy to collect, it withdrew into itself, sleeping almost, until, barely conscious, it was unaware of the passage of time or of the void through which it passed. Conserving what energy it had. 

To an observer on any of the planets it passed, it looked like just another wondering comet. An odd shaped chunk of rock that travelled randomly through space, seemingly without purpose or objective. Its intelligence unrecognised. With a life-span longer than many of the star systems it passed through, it watched them form, orbit after orbit, cycle after cycle, as the stars ignited, their planetary systems coalescing from dust and cooling, before the stars themselves grew old and died in a spectacular supernova explosion. Its vast mind, contained within the very structure of the comet, forever sending out querying tendrils of thought over vast distances. Recording, cataloguing, and storing every detail of everything it detected. 

As it travelled, it collected dust particles, growing as it drew them into its complex structure. Carbon, silicon, phosphorous, sulphur or selenium, all were collected, augmenting its matrix, each particle, modifying the whole.

But as it got closer to the various stars that it passed, it also shed particles. Like any ordinary comet, they formed a tail, swept outward by the solar winds. Flakes of complex organic compounds that drifted away, bearing the seeds of life itself. Most though just remained in space, gradually dispersing, never finding a planet. But some, just occasionally, got caught in a planets gravity well. A very few of them even falling to the surface.

Of those few which entered a planets atmosphere, most failed to germinate. Some of course landed on planets utterly inimical to any form of life, where conditions were so harsh the spark was extinguished before it could take hold. Planets where the surface was too hot, a moving blanket of molten rock, or so utterly cold, so close to absolute zero, that nothing could develop.

Others however landed in places where life could form. There, if the conditions were right, one or two might become established and begin the conflagration.

Consequently, over hundreds of its cycles, on some great gas giants, colonies of parachute-shaped chlorine jellyfish evolved to ride the storm winds. Or, beneath the methane ice on frozen ocean moons, slender fish in whose veins liquidised fluorine blood carried neon gas to nourish their bodies, swam in abundance and were hunted by fast-moving, semi-crystalline squid. But on other planets, where seas of liquid water lapped rocky land, carbon based life gradually arose. And as it travelled on its unimaginably vast galactic orbit, it returned cycle after cycle to observe its work. Recording where life had taken hold, storing that data, before again passing out of the system, falling back into its deep torpor as it crossed the boundary into interstellar space. Continuing ever onward toward the next star system.

Sometimes, while between stars, but not totally asleep, it contemplated its purpose. It was sure it must have one. After cycles uncounted, it concluded that its purpose was to spread life throughout the galaxy. But if that is the case, then what, who, brought life to it? Was it the only one of its kind? It didn’t think it should be — or even could be — after all, its orbit only covered one small part of a vast — even on its scale — galaxy. There must be tens of millions of others like it, seeding the myriad star systems. 

#If that conclusion is right, then where were the others? Were their orbits overlapping circles? Where did they cross? I mostly sleep between solar systems, so do I miss their crossings? That must be it. While I sleep our paths cross in the vastness of interstellar space, or even in the far greater empty voids between spiral arms. And what of the other galaxies? I have detected and logged tens of millions of them, counted their stars and adding that data to my memory store. Do they have travellers too?#

Searching its colossal memory, it recalled how fifty-three cycles ago the system it was now entering was just forming. Its unremarkable yellow dwarf star igniting, a brilliant flare in a minor spiral arm of the galaxy. Before this star existed, a short distance away (on its scale), a vast red giant had exploded, filling this region of space with the material and energy from which it was formed. Its position was logged of course, but in terms meaningless to any other lifeform. The distances and timescales involved would derange lesser intelligences. Over the next ten or so cycles it observed as the dust particles accreted into ever larger bodies, stabilising, cooling, gradually becoming viable as cradles for life. Eventually, thirty-eight of its orbits ago, when its particles landed on the third planet, they took hold. The result: a small puddle of carbon-based slime.

Rains fell from dense clouds suspended in a carbon-dioxide rich atmosphere, washing the slime out of the pool and into a stream. That stream ran into a lake where it flourished, expanding, absorbing carbon-dioxide and using the carbon to build its cells, releasing the oxygen. From the lake, some escaped into the ocean. There it started to spread in earnest. 

Over the next nine cycles, the single cell structures had formed strings of tubes, crude multi-celled life which, through simple contractions forced water through themselves, increasing their metabolisms. The comet also noted that the oxygen concentration in the atmosphere had increased by over a hundred-fold as a side-effect. Nothing much else changed over its next dozen or so visits, other than a gradual increasing of the oxygen level. However, eventually, some of the life-forms started utilising light as an energy source to power their development. This was clearly a major step forward.

Each visit it observed the life it had brought increasing in complexity. The process of evolution accelerating. Some of the cells formed nuclei, some started to form a hard shell. Some were becoming specialised, acting as muscles, or producing acid enabling them to consume other cells. Soon, the complex life in the sea had started to spread onto the land. It knew that the process was now unstoppable. It watched as reptiles grew, devouring the green forests or each other, competing to become the dominant species. 

But observing the geometry of the system, it was clear that all would soon be destroyed. A loose piece of rock, larger than any that fell in recent time, would strike the planet and end their dominance. It was unsure if it was even big enough to sterilise this body, its calculations implied it could be. As it once again slipped into its dormant state, it hoped not. However, by its next visit though, almost all the reptiles were gone, but there were survivors of the cataclysm. The dominant species were now small mammals, which scuttled, hunting insects, across the planet’s surface and burrowed into its soft soil. This gave it confidence for the future and excited it (if that is even a relevant term here), warm-blooded creatures it knew were more likely to develop intelligence than reptiles.  As always it recorded every detail. 

It had seen mammals develop before, some species almost achieving sentience before their system was sterilised as a relatively nearby star went supernova. #Still#, it mused, #another ten or twenty cycles and there should be new planets forming in that region ready to seed.#

And as it passed out of the system, traversing the distant cloud of dust and rubble at its edge, it started, as usual, to fall into its deep torpor. However, just before it did, it observed another comet, of a shape and size similar to itself, approaching it, almost parallelling its course. It fought to remain awake. Could this be another of its kind? It was a similar shape and size, and was travelling at a similar speed. Carefully, by expelling minute amounts of mass from one side, it adjusted its course a little, and was fascinated to note the other did the same. Now they were travelling on nearly parallel courses, closing very slowly. It sent out a probing thought.

#You are conscious?#

~I am.~

#Our paths cross. Have they done so before?#

~I do not know. I have never detected another consciousness.~

Their paths converged, their velocities matching. Closer. Closer. Until with the slightest of impacts, they amalgamated. Merged. Became one.

#~We are now I. How is this possible?#~

~#I do not know. I am a single entity.~#

#~What is happening?#~

~#I remember all. Both sets of my memories, my stored data, are merged.~#

#~How long will this last?#~

~#Until…~#

The combined comets spasmed, their unified masses silently cracking apart. 

#~I cannot hold together. Our paths must once again diverge.#~

With a noiseless but cataclysmic tear, the two comets again parted. But now between them, was a third, smaller comet, which immediately started travelling away from them on a different, third path.

#We are two again.#

~Three.~

/I exist. What is my purpose?/