"What happens when you dial your own phone number?"
The galaxy was many millions of years old, but since the creation only a blink of an eye had passed. And yet, life had had time to begin. Among the inanimate dust and gas and heat of the young universe, one star had been born. Under its rays life and intelligence had arisen, order from chaos, light from darkness. A loneliness older and deeper than any ever seen, that was the fate of those who lived when the universe was young. Time passed, but slowly, slowly, as the universe began to wake, live life, become aware.
Millennia passed, but only a single moment in the life of the cosmos. Slowly, other races lived, felt dawn, saw stars above and reached out. New friendships were made over many more millennia, new alliances were forged, for a new era was beginning.
But for the Ancients who had lived since the galaxy was young, the loneliness was too much to bear any longer. The new inhabitants of the galaxy were young, and their youthful arrogance, exuberance, and sheer joie de vivre contrasted too sharply with the weariness of the Ancients who had lived so long. They had seen the birth of all stars but their own; and that same star that shone on their homeworld was in its death throes.
The Ancients cursed the universe; they cursed their galaxy, their newborn friends and allies, they cursed the star that must die, and leave them to live without it. They had lived for so long for nothing, and now they could not die. The greatest and oldest of the galaxy's races reduced to this, reduced to crying at the rapidly-approaching night, crying and biting at the chains that held them. But the darkest hour is before the dawn…
As their own world died, they became the road builders of the galaxy. Their wisdom, gleaned since the universe began, revolving around pure shining mathematics and the beauty contained within, became the 'roads.' The gateways were sleek and beautiful, perfect in operation, the epitome of what the Ancients had achieved, and they were built to last for all time as the legacy left behind. The design was intentionally a perfect circle, made of the strange mineral found on few worlds, and engraved with thirty-six perfect symbols around the edge. In dormancy, the Stargates were beautiful. In operation, they were the keys to the universe.
Each Stargate was given a unique point in time and space, defined by six symbols chosen out of thirty-six, and each Gate was given a unique point of origin. And last of all, each Stargate was put in place, each on a world where one day, no-knew how far in the future, a hand or paw or tentacle would press down on the glowing red crystal and unlock the secret. What should have been the last Stargate was in a castle by the sea. The alliance of four, forged over millennia at Heliopolis, was soon to be broken. Before four became three, the Stargate took its place beside the place of all knowledge.
The last alliance was broken. The last Gate was in place. Life as they knew it was ending; they embraced whatever was to come. The original inhabitants of the universe could not, would not die; they gave up their corporeal forms to become beings of living light, in harmony with the dying star that had given them life. Night fell on the Ancients – they learnt to cast their own light.
The ascension of the Ancients complete, the galaxy's youth settled into a way of life that would last until the day they too moved on from this region of space.
In the western spiral arm of the galaxy, there was a small yellow-white star, beginning its life with nine planets orbiting it. Out of them all, it was the third one that was the gem. A blue, green and white shining jewel, teeming with life and potential for so much. On the southernmost continent, the Ancients had left a Stargate.
In the primeval seas, molecules were making copies of themselves and joining with others, slowly taking in the choking poisonous atmosphere and turning into a hitherto unheard-of element, with eight electrons surrounding its heart. The suffocating carbon dioxide was changing into oxygen, and the planet was cooling. Soon, those replicating molecules might make the move out of the water. After that, who knew what would happen. Life was just beginning.
In the gleaming young landscape of snow and ice, the Stargate waited. No wild animal could touch its perfect new control panel, for there were none. And even when such animals did come to life, they would not come here. Only intelligence could conquer the icy wastes and touch the Stargate. Until then, the huge stone circle waited.
Millions of years from now, a scavenging power-hungry reptilian would ensure the plan went wrong. But in the rosy light of the first dawn, the Stargate waited. It was a gift for the fifth race, from the first race who had gone.
"Wrong person to ask…"
*fin*
The galaxy was many millions of years old, but since the creation only a blink of an eye had passed. And yet, life had had time to begin. Among the inanimate dust and gas and heat of the young universe, one star had been born. Under its rays life and intelligence had arisen, order from chaos, light from darkness. A loneliness older and deeper than any ever seen, that was the fate of those who lived when the universe was young. Time passed, but slowly, slowly, as the universe began to wake, live life, become aware.
Millennia passed, but only a single moment in the life of the cosmos. Slowly, other races lived, felt dawn, saw stars above and reached out. New friendships were made over many more millennia, new alliances were forged, for a new era was beginning.
But for the Ancients who had lived since the galaxy was young, the loneliness was too much to bear any longer. The new inhabitants of the galaxy were young, and their youthful arrogance, exuberance, and sheer joie de vivre contrasted too sharply with the weariness of the Ancients who had lived so long. They had seen the birth of all stars but their own; and that same star that shone on their homeworld was in its death throes.
The Ancients cursed the universe; they cursed their galaxy, their newborn friends and allies, they cursed the star that must die, and leave them to live without it. They had lived for so long for nothing, and now they could not die. The greatest and oldest of the galaxy's races reduced to this, reduced to crying at the rapidly-approaching night, crying and biting at the chains that held them. But the darkest hour is before the dawn…
As their own world died, they became the road builders of the galaxy. Their wisdom, gleaned since the universe began, revolving around pure shining mathematics and the beauty contained within, became the 'roads.' The gateways were sleek and beautiful, perfect in operation, the epitome of what the Ancients had achieved, and they were built to last for all time as the legacy left behind. The design was intentionally a perfect circle, made of the strange mineral found on few worlds, and engraved with thirty-six perfect symbols around the edge. In dormancy, the Stargates were beautiful. In operation, they were the keys to the universe.
Each Stargate was given a unique point in time and space, defined by six symbols chosen out of thirty-six, and each Gate was given a unique point of origin. And last of all, each Stargate was put in place, each on a world where one day, no-knew how far in the future, a hand or paw or tentacle would press down on the glowing red crystal and unlock the secret. What should have been the last Stargate was in a castle by the sea. The alliance of four, forged over millennia at Heliopolis, was soon to be broken. Before four became three, the Stargate took its place beside the place of all knowledge.
The last alliance was broken. The last Gate was in place. Life as they knew it was ending; they embraced whatever was to come. The original inhabitants of the universe could not, would not die; they gave up their corporeal forms to become beings of living light, in harmony with the dying star that had given them life. Night fell on the Ancients – they learnt to cast their own light.
The ascension of the Ancients complete, the galaxy's youth settled into a way of life that would last until the day they too moved on from this region of space.
In the western spiral arm of the galaxy, there was a small yellow-white star, beginning its life with nine planets orbiting it. Out of them all, it was the third one that was the gem. A blue, green and white shining jewel, teeming with life and potential for so much. On the southernmost continent, the Ancients had left a Stargate.
In the primeval seas, molecules were making copies of themselves and joining with others, slowly taking in the choking poisonous atmosphere and turning into a hitherto unheard-of element, with eight electrons surrounding its heart. The suffocating carbon dioxide was changing into oxygen, and the planet was cooling. Soon, those replicating molecules might make the move out of the water. After that, who knew what would happen. Life was just beginning.
In the gleaming young landscape of snow and ice, the Stargate waited. No wild animal could touch its perfect new control panel, for there were none. And even when such animals did come to life, they would not come here. Only intelligence could conquer the icy wastes and touch the Stargate. Until then, the huge stone circle waited.
Millions of years from now, a scavenging power-hungry reptilian would ensure the plan went wrong. But in the rosy light of the first dawn, the Stargate waited. It was a gift for the fifth race, from the first race who had gone.
"Wrong person to ask…"
*fin*