The universe is a device of uncertainty. Time passes strangely within its borders, as in places where matter doesn’t apply. The only thing in the universe that is faster than light is dark. We know this because the dark heralds the light. The universe expands at a pace that exceeds light speed; it is the pace of darkness.
Matter doesn’t come from nowhere, it comes from a place that isn’t. It could only go by the title of unreality. This is where the universe draws its material. The universe seeps into unreality, at a destination immeasurable using time or space.
An organism comprised not of atoms, but of anti-matter in a somewhere that has no life or death sits in waiting. Waiting to be absorbed and merged with a universe. Outside of the laws of the universe the organism moves at random through unreality, wherever it wishes to be, it is. Here is not farther than there, they both exist simultaneously in an abyss that has no beginning or bottom.
As the outside, the laws that bind the universe together don’t exist at its borders. So as the universe expands it maneuvers through unreality the same way anything else does, sucking it up here and there, but never linearly. The chances of the anti-matter organism being apart of the unreality absorbed is about one in one hundred million billion. Which just means over the span of a long enough time it’s inevitable, and it is sucked into the universe.
The universe expands ubiquitously, at all angles at once. The borders expand at an equal pace contorting unreality into universe. Because there is no dimension of unreality, the borders use the same material at all ends. If it were possible to view its expansion from the outside, it would look like filling a balloon with air. Due to these facts, when the organism is taken into the universe, it exists on all sides at once, like a film blanketing it.
The laws of the universe twist and bend the organism, forcing it to conform to its extremely simple laws. The universe speaks in the language of mathematics, it’s anti-matter can’t touch matter, or it will explode. The victor will always be the larger of the two. This is reality. Beginning at the edge of space, a series of small explosions take place, only the size of the particles that exist in its vacuum. Dark purple spirals form and then dissipate when they pass into the organism, wreaking havoc on its anti-body, mutating it, building it up, and budding it out. Converting all the matter into anti-matter, it grows with celerity. Just as the universe doesn’t obey the laws that it contains, neither does the sentient anti-matter. It consumes the universe faster than light can move. The force of the big bang drives matter towards the being. Therefore the organism that has no name eats the universe faster than it was made.
Contained within the anti-matter organism are new forces of nature, new laws that begin to govern the universe in another way. Flipping all positive to negative, unmaking material, turning living things into something that can’t be described to those that thrive in the third dimension.
The universe eater consumes the universe for a billion years, turning its 41 billion light year span into twenty billion. It’s ever moving eye scans its prey as it breaks it into opposite. It has unmade more than a hundred trillion stars, many of which had rocks circling them that contained a warm film called life forms. As with every other life form in all the cosmos, a superior being hovers above their rock, and makes the life in it’s image, small versions of itself, operating like wind-up toys, conforming to its will for all time. Life forms in the broadest sense, for that that is immortal can never be said to live. The cold monotony of the universe turns to anti-matter the same as any other. At nineteen billion light years the organism looks ahead, and views a star with a small blue rock, different from all the other rocks it has consumed.
This blue marble is different because unlike all the other rocks with life, this one has no one to look out for it. A deity doesn’t hover above it like all the others. It’s unique through random chance. The laws of this particular universe have allowed a probability factor that a rock could be the precise distance from its star, without gravity weighing too heavily upon it, dragging it into its stars surface. On top of that chance, this rock has other bigger rocks that help prevent it from being showered by even smaller rocks that would nonetheless eradicate life far to frequently for it to evolve. It is comprised of just the right materials, and is just the right size to harness life. Against all odds, without a helping hand, the conditions are perfect for life on this one particular rock, throughout many universes. The organism is awed by this remote probability.
Best of all this blue ball changes, progresses, it holds it’s own fate in it’s hands, and its amazing. Through a process called evolution, the film on the planet began in liquid water as a single cell, and millions of years later morphed into gigantic beings with tiny brains. Now bigger brained beings that send radio signals into space, hoping to receive a reply. The beings send manned missiles into the darkness, hoping to learn more about it. The planet is filled with hope, it’s future is the only thing uncertain the creature has ever seen. The rest of the things called life are cold and consistent. This pale blue dot is beautiful. The language of the universe is mathematics, and life forms speak it eloquently.
Upon this discovery, the organism frantically tries to stop itself, willing to do anything in it’s power to preserve the random life on the blue rock. To do this it must go against every fiber of it’s being. It must contradict the force that drives it forward, the one consistent law that is apart of every universe, and outside of time. That anti-matter and matter can’t coincide; they are forced into epic duel for as long as they exist.
The universe eater moves faster with every bit of material it converts. It has already sheared this universe in a slice less than half. Now, at this late interval, the organism fights every instinct it has trying to put the breaks on it’s descent, but to no avail. Just like yeast trying to rewrite it’s prime directive it’s hopeless. When yeast comes into contact with sugar it excretes alcohol, so is the case with the unnamed organism, when it comes into contact with matter, it excretes anti-matter.
It passes through another rock covered in life film and a god; a crackling sensation passes through its intestines. It can’t help itself, bearing down on the universe which is now only 16 billion light years across; it has never seen anything as special as the blue marble throughout all the cosmos, and would happily sacrifice it’s own anti-life to preserve it. But it was designed to eat, and it was designed to watch, but it was not designed to intervene. The universe has already been perverted, and it can do nothing.
Looking inside itself, it thinks of all the things it’s seen through all the universes it’s unmade, never once considering in its eons of consciousness that what it was doing was wrong. Switching matter into anti-matter, turning cold laws into refined chaos. It could never see that among the matter could exist such beautiful randomness. It flexes its consciousness, trying to think itself backwards, but it accelerates. Disgusted with itself it fills it’s mind with pity. On the fringe of the blue planet, merely a billion light years away, its dark eye begins to leak matter, and with that, it slows down.
It’s deceleration refines it’s sight. Peering closer into the lives of the film of the blue planet, it sees human children growing into adults, and having their own human children, it sees hive bees creating geometrically perfect hives through the power of instinct and evolution. And it sees the emotions on the faces of the creatures as they move through their lives. Measuring the time of their short existences with the sand in an hourglass. Making the organism think about when it was new, and when it became conscious of itself, and its instincts that pulled it through the first universe it consumed, and it can’t stop it’s eye from leaking matter.
Reflecting in on itself, it realizes that all it has consumed had the same rare random chance of life, and that converting it to anti-matter, removed the probability of that happening again. This train of thought makes the creature so sick that it vomits matter from its entire circumference. Holding it still, and finally gently pushing the organism slowly back the way it came.
It watches the blue planet grow old, from life beginning in the sea, moving out, and expanding to the brink of killing itself, and then starting over again. It finds it strange that the inhabitants with the largest brains all look into the sky, and imagine a being that isn’t there. They can’t see what they really are, and that their lives represent the grace of the universe. They simply think that they are common like everything else. But as the only life in the universe without an architect, besides the universe itself, they couldn’t see that they were apart of the universe itself. They were the instruments of a beautiful symphony, conducted over the life of the entire universe; they were the song of the stars. Unable to look in on themselves they were blind to the truth, but the organism watched in wonder, drifting back to where it came.
Billions of years past, the blue planet blossomed many times before it withered. The song it sang never played the same tune twice. But like all true life, it inevitably came to an end. The organism sunk back into unreality dripping matter from its eye. It’s black hole tentacles are the last to fade. Leaving the laws of the universe in tact, but cutting its expansion further. Without expansion the universe was sealed. Nothing could enter and nothing could leave. In the eons to come independent life never sprang up again, all the sand turned to glass. Until matter itself grew old, and began to deteriorate. Stars began to fade, and then galaxies, until there was no light. Eventually even the magnetic force that bound atoms together fell apart, and everything that had ever been was melted into the cosmic sea. Leaving the universe cold and empty for the rest of eternity.
The universe was dead, but the organism from unreality, outside of time brought it back to life beyond eternity, by humming the song of the stars. It sounded like this.
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