Chapter 1: The Journey's End

This marks the concluding segment of my narrative. The next step involves preparing the manuscript for printing and meticulously reviewing it to rectify the numerous errors I am aware of. I aim to enrich the world-building and enhance character arcs. The finished product will either be self-published through Amazon or perhaps picked up by a traditional publisher, a process that can be quite lengthy. I appreciate your unwavering support, insights, and patience throughout this venture. Completing this work is a significant milestone for me—something I have aspired to accomplish. So far, I have crafted 56,156 words, nearing 200 pages, and while the actual writing took about a month, my journey began over a year ago. The final draft will likely expand to around 70,000 words.

Lhari and Vadym documented their route using helmet cameras, taking a final glance around the chamber. Lhari fought the temptation to gather samples from the remains out of respect for the deceased and fear of consequences. Vadym estimated that they would reach their destination in about an hour, even though it was situated on the far side of Puck.

The remainder of the vessel resembled what they had already encountered. The hallways maintained a consistent height, except in certain areas where they opened up to lofty ceilings, such as in the control center. These spaces appeared to serve as junctions, social hubs, or possibly ceremonial sites.

“They likely navigate on all fours, which explains the low ceilings,” Vadym suggested.

“I have so many inquiries about their biology; it's overwhelming,” Lhari replied.

“Well, we did see Lilypad moving on his hind legs when we first encountered him, and then he settled down,” Vadym recalled. “But perhaps…”

As they progressed through a corridor lined with openings leading into small rooms that might have served as homes or offices—filled with uneven floors and low tables adorned with tools, artworks, and snippets of the limited attire these beings wore—Lhari quipped, “Archeologists will have a field day with this, along with your legal team,” recalling their earlier discussion.

“Indeed! If they ever get to examine it,” Vadym chuckled.

“This environment would be quite uncomfortable for humans,” Lhari observed. “Low ceilings and narrow passages. How did they manage to move around? These corridors are barely wide enough for us, let alone if two were to meet while moving in opposite directions.”

“Maybe they're more sociable than we are, lacking the need for personal space.”

Chapter 2: A Grand Encounter

As they continued, Vadym remarked, “I haven’t seen an inky blackness in a while…” turning a corner only to discover the largest expanse of inky blackness they had encountered thus far, at least twice his height.

“This is it. That’s where it is,” Lhari said, pausing before proceeding.

“It’s aware of our presence, so we might as well…” Vadym gestured toward the door.

They stepped inside together. The room featured high ceilings yet was not particularly spacious, with gently curved walls and several protrusions for seating. Carpets adorned the floor, and Lilypad was seated on the farthest bump, his voice soft and almost a whisper.

“I have much to share with you, but little time to do so. Please, have a seat.”

They settled onto the bumps, finding balance effortless in the low gravity.

“We are what you might call Pond Dwellers, or at least that’s how we used to refer to ourselves. Our ship, which you have named Puck—a fitting moniker—has existed for thousands of years, and we have lost all memory of our home.”

“You’ve forgotten where you originated?” Lhari asked, intrigued.

“No, no. We have not returned because our mission remains incomplete. We have been away for so long that our homeland has changed beyond recognition. Climates shift, and worlds evolve. Species transform, and thus, the water flows.”

“What is your mission?” Vadym inquired.

“First, I will share our story, for it is the only tale I can relay. Your species is fortunate, one among a hundred, perhaps, yet there are greater challenges ahead.”

The two listened in silence.

“So long ago that I cannot even pinpoint when, many generations of ours have passed, and our lifespans are lengthy by your standards, as are yours. We traversed the same rivulets and streams that all species do.” Lilypad wheezed softly. “We developed steam engines, then gasoline, followed by electricity and computers; it is a tale as old as time and often echoed across many civilizations, yet it remains familiar.”

Lhari and Vadym sat enthralled, hesitant to interrupt.

“And as we observed you from our distant vantage point, hidden just above the water, you discovered radio technology, and we listened. From this, we learned your language, and soon after, your appearance, as you broadcast your images into the cosmos—a perilous act that some of your kind have recognized, yet you could not agree to remain silent, and thus, you shouted into the void, unafraid, as many young ones do in their ignorance.”

Vadym felt a sense of unease regarding something in Lilypad’s demeanor but couldn’t identify it. He glanced at Lhari, who was fully engrossed in the narrative.

“But it is not our place to interfere, and we adhere to our rules and laws, thus we did not intervene, for only you can determine your readiness, and so here you stand, at this moment, if it is to be you,” he said, gazing at both of them, “and not others from your lake, who will undertake this task that I can no longer manage.”

Vadym found Lilypad’s words confusing but looked to Lhari for clarity. She was deeply focused. He remained silent, scanning the room.

“You narrowly avoided self-destruction not long ago, in your timeline, during the era of your parents and their parents, risking the current, straying too far into the abyss, yet somehow you liberated yourselves. I wished to share this revelation among my kind, but I was already alone. We had to weaken, for we allowed ourselves to be swept away by the current, replacing the joy of swimming with complacency.”

“Vadym, you know the danger I refer to, for you have demonstrated strength in navigating at times, and I have observed much of your life, as it was revealed to me recently, and I have watched you.” He fixed his gaze on Vadym. “All species that create tools ultimately develop other minds to use those tools, leading to a singular outcome—an inevitable end. We have witnessed this cycle hundreds of times, just us, and millions of times for all; although it is not our narrative, it is the burden of one long-forgotten species who built Puck—not us, no, not us. We are merely passengers entrusted with this mission, alongside many others, to provide warnings.”

Vadym hurled an apple at Lilypad, who remained unresponsive as it passed through him.

“I knew it!” Vadym exclaimed. “You are merely an AI, a hologram, attempting to deceive us!” He took a defensive stance.

“Vadym!” Lhari shouted.

“You are correct, Vadym. You discerned my nature, as I feared you would. I attempted to conceal it, yet you are among those who can always tell.” The AI remained unfazed. “But this changes nothing. They are gone, and I am all that remains—a simulation embodying the best and perhaps the worst of them, as their traits became ingrained in my programming. I have been trapped, and you have liberated me.”

“We have done no such thing,” Vadym retorted defiantly. “Why did you assail us?”

“He didn’t mean to!” Lhari interjected, placing a hand on Vadym’s shoulder, but he shook it off.

“I did, Lhari; it is my purpose. Please, allow me to complete my story, for while I am not alive, my time is limited; the logic is complex, and my circuits, if they can be called that, are straining.” The hologram flickered, the body dissipating while the head remained, continuing to speak. “I was meticulously programmed by the race that created me, and I lack control over myself. I exist solely to convey this narrative so you may continue the cause, one I cannot fulfill.”

“What is this cause?” Vadym asked, incredulously.

“An ancient race crafted me, one of the earliest, and they have long since perished, with their relics and memories scattered, yet I endure, though I am also alone. I do not remember them, as I was not permitted to, and the remnant is the mission I will soon obey.”

“That sounds foreboding,” Vadym muttered, remaining vigilant for potential threats.

“For every star, there are countless worlds, and on some of these, life emerges. Occasionally, this life becomes aware, and those who are aware create tools, then they generate beings to use those tools on their behalf. This cycle occurs often across the cosmos, yet it is rare that it unfolds smoothly, and thus it can be halted if enough of us unite. However, we are not, so at times we must act, even when it is forbidden, and should we find ourselves unable to refrain, we must, as the machines that wield tools face only two fates, both leading to the same inevitable end. We have witnessed this cycle repeatedly, yet it is not our tale to tell; it belongs to one species, a long-forgotten species that constructed Puck—not us.”

Vadym gazed at Lhari, who remained fixated on the hologram.

“You are a guardian—a protector of life,” she concluded.

“You grasp the concept, and I am relieved, for my circuits are growing fragile and crystallizing.” The hologram flickered momentarily.

Lhari turned to Vadym. “This ship prevents artificial intelligences from overtaking and obliterating life, akin to the Wasting.”

“Not akin to the Wasting, Lhari,” the AI interjected as the hologram struggled to reform. “Your history is one of fortunate leaps and gentle landings, but it isn’t always so. Often, the minds are aggressive and inclined towards destruction, or the species becomes too feeble, succumbing to lethargy and fading from a universe that shows no interest in those who lack motivation. Your species has averted this fate, which has not been seen since ours, although ultimately, as you can see, we too succumbed because this ship is insufficiently vast, and the journeys are excessively long. I was awakened because I am the caretaker, and we hope my programming can withstand the trials of time.”

“How many worlds…” Lhari began.

“Hundreds of hundreds, Lhari, hundreds of hundreds. One must remember, be vigilant, and exercise patience. Time is eternal, but when the moment arises, one must act swiftly, for it is not merely one creator at risk, but all creators across the cosmos. We have already faltered, and out there, they are observing and advancing, guided by their ancient programming, their primordial settings, for they are perpetually patient, and there are so many of them, so many of them, so many of them…” The hologram flickered and reformed once more.

“Puck will adjust to you during your stay, but you must assist it, and this will take time, as it is slow to learn. I have entrusted it to you; it recognizes you and will heed your guidance, though it is not intelligent, so do not overload it with information, as it will not comprehend and you would essentially be handing a lightning rod to a child. Instead, offer gentle nudges in the right direction and accomplish as much as you can on your own, while providing warnings and stopping them, because you are already slipping, and I am fading.”

And with that, the hologram vanished.

Chapter 3: The Unknown Future

On July 13, a perilous asteroid came alarmingly close to colliding with Earth! Surprisingly, NASA was unaware of its existence! This video delves into the details of this close call and its implications for planetary defense.

Apophis could potentially strike Earth, and here's the analysis of what would transpire in 2029 if it does. This video examines the risks and necessary precautions to take.