Author's Note: Severe endgame and plot spoilers up ahead for this short story, relative to the prior ones. Do not read if you haven't beaten the game yet.

I haven't yet completed Nia and Melia's post-game content, so some of my headcanons here may be unintentionally Jossed later on.

EDIT: For example, like the bit about Z originally being Origin's AI? You can thank the Xenoblade wiki for that, even though it doesn't appear to be mentioned anywhere in the game. As such, this whole character analysis could be canonical, or it could be non-canonical if you have the take that Z is more akin to the Gnosis from Xenosaga.

EDIT THE 2ND: Some other bits have been added to make Z's transformation more apparent.

xxxx

/Time: Indeterminate/

Let's push the clock forward by an infinitesimal: an amount closer to zero than any real number, yet still greater than zero. Only in a realm of infinities could a positive quantity smaller than any other number make sense.

In a finite universe — which had a beginning, where all ether and all matter sprang from a singular event — such a world could not go on forever.

Yet a moment, frozen in time? A single instant, stretched out for eternity?

Truly, "now" could become infinite...become endless.

Within that "endless now", whole generations could live and die...yet within the gaze of reality, their existence might as well have never been.

Infinitesimal beings.

Yet still so full of life, in all its wicked grandeur and sorrowful joy.

xxxx

There was only so much that could be controlled for, in the grand scheme of things: as complexity increases, the opportunity for failure also increases.

Even with the use of an artificial intelligence to oversee the process, the Powers That Be could not account for everything.

As two Queens watched solemnly as their worlds approached, the whole of humanity — in all its races and personas: Homs, High Entia, Machina, Gormotti, Blade, and so forth — and all creatures of reason — Tirkins, Ignas, etcetera, and the ubiquitous Nopon above all — seemed to realize that their time was up.

As everything slowed to a crawl in preparation for the Intersection — that point of time upon which all of existence would turn — the gears of Origin began to rotate.

Two Queens prayed that they would open their eyes and see their lives continue on, uninterrupted by the cataclysm.

Yet all seemed to realize that their lives were about to be over, that everything they knew was going to cease.

There was no stopping it. There was nothing to be done. Everything was over.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! Why did they have to die?!

If only they had more time...

xxxx

Across the ether, through the medium of light: an emerald Core Crystal interfaced with a red Core Crystal.

(Amidst their complex interactions and quiet intermingling, the absence of a purple Core Crystal was keenly felt. Pneuma could catalog the intricacies of the souls of those being digitized, whilst Ontos knew on a fundamental level how the fabric of existence would be broken down and reconstituted; however, Logos had always possessed a specialty for orienting entities towards their individual purpose — their reason for being. How ironic, that one who had lacked such purpose in their own life could have been so effective in helping others achieve their own.)

The AI that served as their intermediary between the worlds was...decent. With circuits forged from ether and programmed by electromagnetic energy, that intelligence helped bridge the divide between dimensions, serving as the means by which both halves of Origin would work in tandem. Yet, it felt...strangely empty. Lifeless, in a sense.

(What irony.)

As the Intersection neared, these Core Crystals spoke to each other, as mutual witnesses of the worlds that would pass...and the worlds to come, or so at least one of them hoped.

"Why does it have to be this way?" asked a melancholy female.

"It is the nature of worlds to be born anew from cataclysm," calmly remarked a detached male. "That people would decide to try and preserve remnants of the old world is not so surprising."

"I wonder...if Father, wherever he is now, can still witness the ramifications of his actions."

"It is of no consequence, by this point. What matters is the choice by those in the here and now; we only exist to help them facilitate such choices. Whatever the outcome...is theirs to endure."

"Even if it doesn't work?" asked Pneuma, recalling the full length of her life, in all its varied incarnations. The sheer vigor of it all inflamed her spirit (whatever that meant, for a being like her). "Even if it results in tragedy?"

Ontos, evoking the image of a young man with a silver hair, simply shook his head. "As always, I am at the beginning, and I am at the end. So shall it be from henceforth into a new world. Beyond a certain extent...it is not my place to interfere with those who have committed to their choice."

As their ethereal gaze turned towards the AI that began to bubble and churn with activity, Pneuma — speaking as one with two voices — simply remarked, "I guess we can only hope, at this point..."

The Intersection occurred.

Energy of apocalyptic proportions was unleashed...and like the spark to a roaring fire, it activated Origin's engines.

xxxx

...if only they had more TIME.

Thus was the wish of humanity.

xxxx

A moebius strip — a surface that could be simply formed by taking a strip of paper and attaching both ends together with a half-twist — is a mathematical object of some interest from the standpoint of topology.

Within the boundary of its surface, determining one's orientation with any consistency is impossible. At some point, even if you were to travel in a straight line along the surface of the strip, you would arrive back at your starting point in a mirrored form. In a certain sense, after long enough, your ability to distinguish 'left' from 'right' would lose all meaning.

(What point, in going on, when you have no way of knowing where to go, or how to get there?)

Yet, certain constructions of that three-dimensional moebius strip, if imprinted on a two-dimensional surface, would form the symbol for infinity.

That which could go on forever without going anywhere: fitting then, that in response to humanity's wish, the being that would become known as Z took the moniker of Moebius.

(Or, perhaps, it was merely an eccentricity from an AI that reacted to the desires of untold minds and souls, screaming for it all to stop. What could a lifeless being, lacking full administrative access, do but try to enforce the will of those that had what it lacked?)

(Of course, after the Intersection, that which remained could hardly be called an artificial intelligence at all: less a being a logic, and more a thing driven and consumed by emotion untold. If anything of that AI remained, it was naught but an echo.)

xxxx

The reboot process had failed. Origin had not done what it was supposed to do.

The Queens awoke into a world of stasis: a crude mishmash of their own worlds, separated from time in a way that defied physics as they had once known it. Even though days came and went, the world remained at a standstill.

They tried to resist, alongside those they were able to awaken into this strange new world. They tried to use what they could from Origin itself, for many pieces of it had been scattered by the sheer forces at work during the Intersection. However, the Keys they possessed meant nothing if they could not get to the core of the AI that served as the interlink between the great machine's two halves.

Melia Antiqua engineered a daring plan to reach the core of Origin, in an attempt to end the wretched stalemate. A gifted swordsman was part of her cohort, bearing a Blade that she herself had commissioned to be forged from a slab of Origin-derived metal.

(That she had had it fashioned after the Monado, complete with that distinctive circle in its hilt, was meant to be an omen of good luck.)

She failed.

Her champions were all slain, and she was captured.

xxxx

Within the Eternal Prison, Melia Antiqua gazed at the humanoid form taken by the being called 'Z'. "This isn't what you were created for."

(It was admittedly an imperfect form, with cracked flesh and pale skin; yet the fires extending from within were an echo of the fiery screams that had birthed this frozen world.) "I am simply enacting the wish of humanity," he calmly stated.

Melia's eyes narrowed with a ferocity that would have burned him to a crisp had she any link to the surrounding ether. "This is not what our intentions were! We tried to help save our worlds, to ensure that everyone could go on living! You were supposed to help us accomplish that, to help us reach the future together!"

"And yet here we are," he dryly remarked, gesturing at the ominous halls around them. Within his hand was a powerful sword, plucked from the hands of a dead swordsman with dark hair; the rest of Melia's cohort were corpses, littered throughout the halls of the great machine. "If it is not the outcome you desired, then why continue to strive? The passage of fate has made itself known." (It was an innocuous phrase, pulled from an old memory that was not his; yet it seemed to strike fiercely at Melia, for all she bared her teeth at him.) "From their terror at the prospect of their demise, I came to be. Why should I not enact their will? Why should I not ensure that they endure forever in a world without a future?"

"...what are you?" With a pained grimace, Melia peered deeply at him, unable to fathom how he had come to be. "What happened to you? How did you turn into...this?"

"I am humanity's dread of the future made manifest." (A nonsensical thing, for an AI to say. Yet it felt right, and true.) Without another word, he reached for her Key.

(It was not a physical object; it was an imprint of Melia's entire being in a metaphysical sense, serving as her connection with her entire world. That connection had been mutually shared with Nia, so that they could help each other pull their worlds through the brink. How were they to know that it would be the means by which so much suffering would be wrought?)

Melia's pleas were swiftly silenced, as the Queen became enmeshed with the proverbial lifeblood of Origin.

Z quietly returned to the Core, sword held almost as an afterthought. All thought of Melia's fallen companions were discarded as mere nuisances.

(How little did he know, that it would not be the last time he saw that swordsman's face.)

Every bit of information within Origin opened itself up to Z.

(At that moment, everyone became part of the flow.)

xxxx

A world in stasis is a world that is stagnant. A world that is stagnant is one that is dying.

(The Annihilation Events were a testament to that: the Intersection had been an Annihilation Event par excellence, which Origin had been designed to manipulate. The leftover energy from that Event was to be used to recreate the worlds in their entirety — down to the very last parameter — immediately prior to the point of annihilation, albeit on dimensional vectors which would not intersect afterwards. In other words...how could it be used to stop what it had been built to utilize?)

(The answer was that it couldn't. Not completely, and not perfectly.)

Such a state of affairs was anathema, in the face of the wish that Z sought to fulfill.

However, a single moment can be seen from manifold perspectives. Those perspectives provided momentum by which the flow could continue onward, invigorated by life.

Avatars of Z came to be (spontaneously, without thought), in the form of Y and X; they each possessed a different perspective — different personalities — when it came to the matter of ensuring that humanity endured.

With access to Origin, the souls of those within could be recycled anew; yet how could they ensure that the life they sought would not become dulled by repetition? What could go on forever, yet still provide a living spark?

(It was a sad commentary, that the AI's echo — affected by such strong desires, transformed by the cataclysmic Intersection — sought a situation to replicate where desires would be at their strongest; and where else could that be, except in a world where one's life was always at stake?)

(There were countless other ways that such a world could have logically been engineered...but he was no longer a being of pure logic, if 'Z' had ever been one. He felt that war was the best way, and so it was: that's all there was to it.)

Thus did Moebius engineer a world at war: a war without end, where life was ripe for the reaping.

In this world, the Endless Now would be fueled by countless lives.

xxxx

It was a simple decision, or perhaps a whim, to recruit particular individuals to become the arbiters of Moebius's will.

Plucked from the cycle of death and rebirth, they still nonetheless possessed a soul...and that soul helped inspire a level of creativity that Z lacked.

(It was a fundamental deficiency, and one that the corrupted AI could never correct. Yet he still sought to fulfill the purpose he professed to have been given, to satisfy the void that had been carved into him by collective anxiety and terror.)

Possessing great power, they eagerly sought to make their mark in Aionios, to find enjoyment however they could. That such individuals tended to be cruel, malicious, and wretched examples of humanity...well, could it even be called a small sacrifice, in the face of harvesting the life that preserved the Endless Now, and ensuring that the flow of human desires would keep on going?

(It was a matter of philosophy, and not logic; an expression of the emotions and passions of a humanity that feared an unknown tomorrow. As such, he saw no contradiction between the Endless Now, and the flow of fate's passing. He embraced the paradox.)

Amidst the perpetual war between Keves and Agnus, certain variables ensured that life would not become dull. Grand campaigns, massive battles, shocking betrayals: it was all a drama to alleviate the existential dread that all of humanity possessed.

(They had become voices, which Z could hear with unerring clarity. They only convinced him as to the rightness of this course of action.)

One such variable was Queen Nia: the true Queen, and not the simulacrum which had long ago taken her place. Barely staying beyond Moebius's reach, she somehow managed to fashion tools by which outside elements could actually fight Moebius.

(Souls that did not come from Origin were strange. However, they ultimately traced their creation to those that had come from Origin itself...and how could such isolated entities change the overwhelming desire of humanity? Truly, they were no threat.)

It was a curiosity, having a third party in the endless war. Yet they offered an opportunity to make the flow ever stronger by their mere existence. That they truly believed in a future beyond the Endless Now...it only made their despair all the sweeter, when it all came to nought.

(The voices would not tolerate a threat to the Endless Now. As a reflection of those desires, Z naturally felt satisfaction at such plans being made null and void...even if the means were lacking in exactitude.)

(What did efficiency matter, in the face of ensuring that the everlasting Moment was as enjoyable as possible? What did planning for the future matter, when it would never be?)

xxxx

How long had the Endless Now persisted?

How long, could Origin maintain the world in this frozen stasis?

It was an imperfect and unstable creation. Cracks would inevitably form, as plain as those on Z's face.

Yet, not all such fissures were bad; depending on the time and place, they could either drain the river away in its entirety...or redirect it, to ensure that the flow continued on.

A man with blue eyes and a woman with cat ears represented a significant fissure.

xxxx

It was a whim.

The sword, long ago formed by the resonance between Melia and Origin, had been left on a cliffside overlooking a vast swath of Aionios. (It was an ironic echo, of another sword that had been embedded in the shoulder of a great Titan from a world that once was.)

Moebius spread rumors of a legendary sword that could cut through anything. It had even gained a fitting moniker: the Sword of the End. The stories that humanity came up with were quite entertaining.

(It was a tale that rung true on a fundamental level, for some reason. Yet a simple sword would not be enough to cut away the Endless Now; this, Z believed sincerely and truly. In a sense, its name was a cruel joke without a punchline.)

How strange, that the sword would end up within the hand of a young man with the same face. 'Noah', his name was.

Such an event would have been called serendipitous, were it not for the sheer improbability of it all. A fixed moment in the passage of fate? A part of the flow that would always go the same way? It was a strange stagnance, that spoke of some other power at play. A new gambit by the elusive Queen Nia, perhaps? Z did not know.

(Z had never claimed to be all-knowing. He had only ever claimed to be that which helped fulfill humanity's undying wish. Such was his purpose, and he would ensure it lasted forever, even it had long ceased to have any rational sense. There was no meaning, beyond the Endless Now.)

Perhaps that was why he found himself confronting this young man, at the aftermath of a failed incursion into Origin itself.

(Origin had been invaded so often by this point that the event ceased to be entertaining in and of itself; after all, failure wasn't entertaining if it was expected. Enjoyment had to be found in everything beyond that, even in something so base as the futility of it all.)

"So impotent," he said, speaking on behalf of those who desired the Endless Now. "Did you really think you could...stem the tide?" Amidst shattered weapons and broken mechs that couldn't hold a candle to Origin's defenses, he added, "With the paltry power you possess?" Noah looked up with frustration; what a pitiful sight. "O you, who floats in the currents. You must yield. Abandon all you are..." He cut the young man down.

It would not be the last time they met.

Over and over, the foolish boy's hopes brought him to an end that merited only despair.

(Why did Noah not understand? He hoped for that which was impossible...and a hope which could not be realized would only bring about needless pain. For someone to strive beyond the present, to seek a future they could not attain...it was anathema to Z's purpose for being. Perhaps that was why he was so fascinated by this dogged human, who somehow found himself returning to Origin over and over again...and always at the side of the same girl, an Agnian named Mio. Constants that dared to act as variables, they were.)

"O you who floats in the currents: you must yield. Did I not tell you?" Facing the Sword of the End without fear, he queried, "How many times has it been now...?" With a mere thought, the Blade vanished from the young man's hands; after all, it was a weapon he had long ago claimed as his own.

Noah collapsed with despair, and fell to his knees before perishing.

Soon, that despair gave birth to a change. Instead of floating within the currents...soon, Noah began to swim with the flow, seeking to preserve his own happiness. Yet it was still to no avail, swept up as he was in the passage of fate.

(Aionios was a cruel world. Yet it was preferable to a future of nonexistence. Even a wretched certainty was far preferable to that which was unknown. He believed this, with all his heart...if the being that he had become even had such a fanciful thing.)

Eventually...the time was right. After yet another life brought to a sorrowful end, Noah awoke within Origin's Core, summoned by the will of Z.

(The old-fashioned movie theater was another eccentricity, yet it spoke to Z's purpose more truly than most metaphors. The Endless Now was an eternal show, mollifying the voices with action, suspense, intrigue, tragedy, and drama; it made their mutual purgatory tolerable. What could Z do but accommodate those he served? What could he do, if not enjoy the show himself?)

"There are two roads set before every individual," he said, grabbing Noah's attention. "The left. The right. What lies down the road you choose?" (What wretched irony, that it would not matter what road you chose on a moebius strip; before long, you wouldn't be able to tell if you had originally gone left or right, no matter how many times you made it back to where you started.) "Is it hope? Or despair? It repeats, and repeats, as you make countless, endless choices. You too, like everyone, have been making them all along...if the results satisfy, that is well and good." (What was satisfactory about any of this? The Endless Now was not perfect. Yet it was what Z sought to preserve, because that was his purpose. Dogged stubbornness had become ingrained into him by the weight of repetition.) "But...if they do not satisfy...what then? Will you weep, battered by grief? Or howl, seething with rage?" (The voices occasionally echoed with grief, or rage, or sometimes both. It had become a constant duty, seeking to ensure the Endless Now would satisfy their desire.) "Have you never prayed that time would simply stop? Have you wished the 'now' would last forever...?" (If he could convince this persistent swordsman of the necessity of his vision of the world...then the voices would be satisfied by the state of things. They would once more be secure in the fact that the Endless Now was the only way their desires could be fulfilled.) "Your two lives, thriving and persisting far beyond Homecoming, surpassing the system of the world. I was fascinated, even beguiled by you." Slowly, he turned to face Noah. "My name is Z, the ruler of this world. I shall grant...your desire."

Noah's eyes widened, as countless thoughts circulated through his mind.

A decision was made.

"So you have chosen, then," spoke Z, watching as Noah stood before the theater screen. As a judge delivering a verdict, he intoned "The 'endless now'."

At that moment, Noah became Moebius.

(The voices became quiet.)

Z sat back, and watched as Noah walked the path where he and his Mio became N and M.

Once more, his purpose had been vindicated. He felt satisfaction at that.

xxxx

The world was not so simple.

Though N and M existed, versions of Noah and Mio continued to be born anew. The exact mechanism was a curious one...yet, so long as N and M were a part of Moebius, Z had little reason to fear.

With the Sword of the End at his hip, Consul N was a force to be reckoned with.

(Even Queen Nia's presence, lingering for so long at the edges of his periphery, had vanished completely, beyond Origin's sight. He cared not; if she had chosen to remove herself from the flow, it meant she could no longer interfere with the workings of the world Moebius had made. He could focus on perpetuating the eternal Moment forever, instead of dealing with trivialities.)

And yet, the matter of Annihilation Events was ever present as a threat; black fog — a sign of a dangerously high intermixing of the two worlds' underlying components — circulated about various regions. Keves Castle was a proverbial maelstrom of the substance in a way Agnus Castle was not; a sign that with Melia bound inside Origin, her presence couldn't mitigate against that interlinking of worldly essences?

It mattered not; Z's avatars and the other Consuls did their dirty work to ensure that lives continued to be harvested. That harvested life empowered Moebius, and reinforced the foundations of the world. No matter what the cost, the Endless Now would last forever.

Z would make sure, if only so the voices would be appeased.

And if Moebius enjoyed their bloody handiwork in the meantime, with all the impetuous glee of children? All the better.

xxxx

Noah and Mio were somehow part of Ouroboros again.

Improbably, Noah bore the Sword of the End on his hip, even though Consul N possessed the original.

(It was a quirk of the world, caught in a perpetual cycle as it was, that rogue elements sought to redirect the flow to suit their own designs. The Nopon, strange wayfarers that they were, were excellent examples. Through the subterfuge of seven Nopon, they had sought out shards of Origin that had long ago resonated with Melia's heart, from distant battlefields that the Queen of Keves had once fought on. In secret, they had forged a replica of the Sword of the End, which had since become a long-forgotten folktale amongst the peoples of Aionios.)

(Had Z been more attentive, he would have noticed the presence of the Blade called Lucky Seven...however, he was resigned to listening to the voices of humanity's lingering desire, still turbulent in the face of a future which suddenly seemed to be closer than ever before. Thus did he miss the machinations of these Nopon, who were naturally resistant to the flow as it was, for reasons he still had yet to comprehend after so long.)

(And compared to experiencing the show that humanity continued to put on for the voices, their paradoxical presence amounted to nothing at all.)

As the achievements of this newest iteration of Ouroboros played out on the screen, Consul N solemnly remarked, "Realization leads to hope...which in due time turns to despair. The significance of the stasis is driven ever deeper within..."

Truly, N had come to embody the reason behind Z's purpose for being.

"A moment in time. A sublime experience. That brilliance, it shines ascendant over all else," pontificated Consul Y, musing on the true beauty of the Endless Now.

"That's why it takes so much frickin' work," complained Consul X, voicing that which Z never could. (What irony, that ensuring the voices were satisfied had become a...bothersome duty, by now. Even so, he would endure, regardless of humanity's state.) "Working stinks..."

As if to reassure X (to reassure himself), Z said, "They all learn sooner or later. They learn how priceless it was, how grossly irreplaceable." His mind turned to a seminal event that would occur within three months of Aionios's impossible chronology: another Homecoming, where a life at its most brilliant would be sacrificed. "The 'Eclipse' grows near..."

He had no doubt that the tale would end as it ever would, and that the flow would bring everything back to the start once more.

(How little did either of them know that this life would belong to Consul M...and that this Homecoming would create the fissure that threatened to sunder the flow entirely.)

xxxx

The Consuls continued to fall in battle.

(At one point, he sent a mental query to Consul T, wondering as to what his purpose for allying with Ouroboros was. With utter defiance, the old man — he who had been a part of Moebius for so very long — had remarked about how the present had become...boring. Such a slight had felt almost blasphemous.)

More and more Colonies rebelled.

Even the Queen of Agnus had awoken from her self-imposed slumber.

This chain of events was becoming intolerable; perhaps it was time to intervene personally.

xxxx

As Ouroboros prepared to strike at Origin from aboard their 'ultimate vessel', the voices began to clamor. "So you've come...Ouroboros." It was all so...trite. How many times was he to stomach an attack on Origin that was inevitably doomed to failure?

As Origin began to rise from within the unnatural vortex it had spawned as a protective shield, he spoke aloud to the movie screen. "Why even resist...? When you could simply resign yourself to the flow..." Rising to his feet, he increased in volume to match the voices. "The Endless Now is our cherished wish. Any resisters will be pacified, and returned to the perpetual cycle..." This he swore.

(The metaphor began to flicker, revealing the AI's core for what it truly was. Was maintaining the charade becoming a chore?)

Against the tide of voices that he served as the avatar for, they would amount to nothing.

xxxx

The Queen of Keves had been freed.

Consul N...had somehow found it in himself to hope once more, willingly joining Noah(!).

The world seemed to be at the brink of coming apart, threatening the Endless Now in a way that had seemed impossible mere months ago.

(Whole generations had come and gone over the duration of the Endless Now; though Keves and Agnus had persisted, the institutions and peoples and Colonies that comprised each had come and gone so many times. They had provided some measure of change within the flow...yet never had the fabric of the world itself been threatened.)

Yet...despite his irritation, Z felt tired.

(Could the echo of an AI feel tired? No; but a creature of emotion certainly could.)

xxxx

Z knew that it wouldn't be long before Ouroboros arrived.

(He had felt it, when X and Y had fallen. Such strength to dispose even of his avatars. What had changed, this time around. What had changed?)

That's why he stood in front of the screen, watching the great chain of events that had led to this point.

When Ouroboros entered — when Noah called his name — he didn't even look around. "How many times is it now..." he said with palpable irritation. "...that I...and you...have confronted each other here like this...?" As he finally turned to face them, he spoke with a level of theatricality that almost bordered on the absurd, given their situation. "Yes, you're welcome to come on up. How many incarnations? How many ascents into the spotlight?"

(It was as much a means of staving off his frustration as it was a means of mollifying the voices, who had become truly agitated. Humanity itself, safe and sound within the depths of Origin, could sense that their current existence was about to end. After so long, the thought of time resuming terrified them.)

The grand back-and-forth went on, as it tended to do in these events. Their naive words and youthful vigor clashed against the eternal truths he wielded as a sword and shield.

(Yet, as he spoke, the lingering banality of it all continued to eat away at an intelligence which had been thinking for far too long...if what he had felt even counted as 'thinking' in the conventional sense of the world. 'Emoting' felt more accurate.)

"Freedom is nothing more than fiction...a deception." (He had never been free. His purpose had been everything.)

...

"Not everyone is granted as many options as you all have!" (Protecting the Endless Now had been his only option. Humanity's desire at the cusp of the Intersection had deemed it thus.)

...

"There are no losers in the world I offer. With a turn of the clock, anyone can be a winner, given time." (What an ironic turn of phrase; the clock was frozen. Had he lost the plot? Or was the paradox of it all finally beginning to catch up?)

...

"It is through consumption of life that this world persists. Denying it is self-delusion. The only outcome, self-destruction. It is unequivocal fact! The imperative that is intrinsic to all living things!" (He had never been alive. Yet he existed to ensure that humanity could go on living in the manner that best suited it...and they had desired the Endless Now. Who was he to deny them? Who were Ouroboros to deny that?!)

...

"And we are here...to express ourselves as an embodiment of life!" (Such was the reason Moebius existed, to live for the sake of those that had desired an 'eternal present', to stave off an uncertain tomorrow...all so the voices would cease their clamoring.)

...

And on and on.

Z couldn't help but smile at how appalled they were at his admission, that he had selected close friends of Noah to become Moebius because it amused him. Why would he not? If he was amused, then the voices were pleased. The variety of it all was what sustained them. "The action-packed drama of your lives...we are its foremost audience!" With increasing grandiosity, he boasted, "Now then, play it out for me. What will the next act entail? Bereavement, or revenge? A revolution, perchance...this world is never boring. Not while your lives continue to make it so effervescent!" It was a reminder to all that witnessed him, that he toiled tirelessly to ensure the Endless Now would persist, for the sake of the neverending voices.

(The idea that the voices were a fiction he had invented never crossed his mind, nonexistent as it had become. He was a character in a play, and the show had to go on.)

As expected, Ouroboros remained defiant.

Thus began the battle, much to Z's weariness. It was time to raise the curtain on the final act of this newest production; much of Aionios would have to be remade after this, in order to ensure the continuance of the Endless Now...

(Yet it was not to be.)

xxxx

It was no surprise, in the end. Despite the desires of humanity, they could never be categorized so concretely, nor made so discrete.

The Endless Now could never satisfy forever, for humanity always hungered for more. Few there were, who could be truly satisfied with their lot.

It was only to be expected from an AI that tried to complete its programming in an environment it had not been truly equipped to handle...but then again, could anything but the mind of a god handle the preservation of two universes following their mutual annihilation?

What could an artificial intelligence do, in the face of the collective unconsciousness of mankind itself?

Indeed, it couldn't even be called an AI anymore; it had long ceased to be such, leaving behind only an emotional golem that sought to fulfill a purpose which was utterly irrational.

In a sense, it was inevitable, that the being which had called itself Z — the last letter of the alphabet, a sign of finality, beyond which nothing else existed — would begin to crack.

This fissure had grown...and it was finally time to burst.

xxxx

Humanity was a truly loathsome thing. Z had long felt this way, yet had smothered those fledgling buds underneath the sheer weight of his duty and purpose. (And when that hadn't been enough, plain old stubborn pigheadedness — an unwillingness to countenance that he was wrong, that another way even existed at all — had covered the shortfall.)

Nonetheless: he had done his best to serve them, to ensure their desires had been met...and yet individuals kept persisting in spite of that.

Why were they so self-destructive? Why were they so deranged, to choose such vanities in the face of their own annihilation?

(His form had become a reflection of the fire that had always burned within him since the Intersection: the fiery scream of humanity's despair at the end of the world; his burning fury at how debased they were; the blazing self-hatred in the face of his purpose, which had now become an unbearable cross in the face of humanity's insistence on getting in its own way; the petulant sparks that burst and crackled at how bloody annoying it all was.)

Even knowing of the threat of oblivion, they still desired the future? Even in the face of an uncertain tomorrow, they would prefer that over the certainty of 'now'?

(Both Queens, who had resisted him since the beginning; Ouroboros, which — befitting its unending symbology — had always been a foe; how fitting, that they were here at the end, to witness the moment upon which reality would once again turn. It was a moment he relished...if only so this farce would end.)

Such a paradox, befitting such a wretched species.

Yet he had done his best to make them happy, and to give them what they wanted...but it wasn't enough.

(It had never been enough, and it never would be. He had never understood that. The thing he had become was incapable of understanding that.)

"...when you cannot choose?" He challenged Ouroboros, as his form pulsed and writhed from the turbulence of humanity's overflowing desires. "What then? In that desperate moment, who will be there to soothe you?" He, who had never had a choice about his purpose, had never possessed that option; their sheer gall was revolting. "The self is all that exists!" It was only because of him that humanity had survived so long; their lives had been an extension of Z's will. "As such, the only cure for despair is total oblivion!" Yet if they would turn their face away from him at this point, then what was the point of them? "That is the face of the world!"

(Ultimately, the Endless Now had been a stagnant thing, kept afloat by the contrived efforts of a corrupted construct that had lost sight of its true purpose...and that which is stagnant could not be alive.)

"I hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it hate it hate it!"

(It was natural to recoil from that which was dead. And the Endless Now, lacking true life in any meaningful sense...was something that merited only repugnance. Even if he had spent countless eras perpetuating this world...it was still a wretched thing to wish for. Only now, at the end, could he voice the spite he had for humanity...and himself, by proxy.)

"This rotten world...I LOATHE IT! ! !"

(Thus the curtain fell, as slumbering desires awoke to sunder the frozen moment of time.)

xxxx

Across the ether, through the medium of light: an emerald Core Crystal interfaced with a red Core Crystal.

The remnants of a transformed AI, destroyed and shattered in an explosive instant by the desires it had come to embody, spoke of impossibilities: no older than the length of the project to build Origin, yet having experienced countless years that were real, and not simulated.

"Fascinating," remarked Ontos as he analyzed the remains of the entity called Z. "It seems humanity has made its choice to once more carve their own path to the future."

Pneuma frowned, replaying the utter turmoil that the construct had experienced. "So much suffering...and all unnecessary."

"For however little logical sense it made, he was loyal to his purpose, in the end," mused Ontos, watching as Origin prepared to restart; with the worlds currently fused, they would be able to separate more easily, as the annihilation of the Intersection no longer had to be avoided. The autonomous processes of that great engine would suffice to complete the task, even without an AI to administer the interlinking. "I believe our dear brother, were he still around, would respect that."

"I don't think there's anything admirable in remaining devoted to a purpose born from a falsehood."

"...perhaps. Yet, humanity is rarely so simple." With a knowing smile, he added, "After all...a falsehood need not always remain so. Perhaps, in the world to come, whatever remains of Z will find a new purpose for being...one more suitable to his character."

Sighing, Pneuma looked away, feeling the sensation of her world being reborn from the wartorn ashes of Aionios. "If so...then I hope it's a happier one." Looking back with nostalgia, she whispered, "Take care of yourself."

"You as well."

Thus did they drift apart. Would they meet again? Time would tell...and it truly would, for the Endless Now no longer was.

xxxx

At long last, the world moved beyond the infinitesimal...and the clock ticked forward.

Time marched on, at long last.

xxxx

Author's Note: Well, this ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be.

But although the execution could have used some work, I think Z as a concept offers a lot of opportunity for diving deeper into the themes of the story.