Slivers - Seeking

Most of the zillions of slivers were *moving* now, unthinkingly seeking the face, or the name. Following the portrait, or the call. Find me, Doctor. Find me...

They began bumping into each other as they sought the same channels through time and space, automatically coalescing as they did. Some ghost of consciousness began seeping into the largest resulting clumps of slivers, and they began to put the clues together, matching the call, the voice, the name. Rose...

Then, suddenly, every single sliver *stopped* at the same instant, as an impossibly distant clarion call swept through them. It latched onto each individual sliver, magnetizing them and placing an unbreakable compulsion over each tiny consciousness, whirling them around and drawing them inexorably towards a single point. A room. A moment. A figure, sitting in a chair. From a million miles away, a billion years, the beacon was lit, calling them, swiftly and surely, to that point.

The slivers *turned* as one, and flung themselves towards the beacon.