People say that even a candle can light up a room full of darkness, but they never consider the candle's full story. It ignites, it burns, and it fights against the shadows. Yet, once its wax is gone, its life ends, and the darkness reclaims everything—until the process begins anew.
The same is true for the universe.
It all began with the Big Bang, and scientists hypothesized that it would eventually end with the Big Rip. And so it did. The theory had come true, bringing with it a sight of unparalleled horror—the universe unraveling, matter disintegrating into its most fundamental particles.Everything and everyone that once existed was torn apart.
At their peak, humans had looked to the future, believing evolution would carry them forward for another hundred—perhaps two hundred—years. But they had been wrong.
Amidst the cosmic ruin, a lone traveler remained. An organic being, the last of his kind, the final ember in an extinguishing cosmos.
He sat in his ship, staring at the last star—a dying beacon in the endless abyss. It flickered on its final legs, struggling against the inevitable. He, too, was waiting for his end.
He had watched civilizations rise and fall. He had witnessed the wonders of creation and the horrors of destruction. And yet, in this final moment, he found himself wondering—What if the Big Rip had never happened? Would I have lived a normal life? Would I still be like this—accepting, resigned, waiting?
But answers would not come. As the rip approached, devouring all in its path, he did not fight. He did not resist. He merely longed for something—someone—to listen. A voice in the void. A whisper of comfort.
For centuries, he had remained silent. A wonder, truly, that he had not lost himself to madness.
The last star flickered, then died. The void encroached, reaching his ship. And at that moment, for the first time in eons, he spoke.
"I wish I had a second chance."