Into the Past, Into the Future

     He stands before me, my greatest friend, my staunchest ally. I cannot see his face; only the wondrous, the magnificent, the ineffable (the terrifying) prize he offers me.

     "I am the Guardian; the last Guardian," he intones (somewhere) as he holds it closer. "And so it falls to me to bestow the Matrix of Leadership upon you, Nova; you, our greatest champion, our brightest hope."

     I receive it (the light, it hurts me) from him, open myself to it, consume it within my body (hurts!), feel the connection deep within my spark, and I am lost. Body, mind; what are they to me? A memory, nothing more… nothing of consequence.

     I float (swim) in the light, and there is no time, no space, an infinity of consciousness. I drink it in (more), let it fill me (moremoremore) and I am master of all, the last link in the unbroken chain, part of the ages. And then they come for me.

     I sense them rather than see them (who?), a whispering susurrus that builds (stop) and builds (please) until they threaten to overwhelm me, drown me in a sea of pure mind. Whispers become words (such words), become a cacophony of demands, thought fragments pressing upon my psyche… and I know them.

     The Matrix bearers surround me (who am I?), press upon me; they say (think) they have wisdom to impart, knowledge to gift me. But there are so many (so many) and they keep coming (so MANY); they will not stop and I am powerless… powerless before them.

     I never imagined, never dreamed, of the history that lay behind our race (my race); generation after generation, on and on into the mists of the past, and I know (I KNOW) that were I to follow their lead they would take me down, down into the blackness, into the very genesis of our kind, the ultimate mystery. Yet I recoil from that final step (I must not) for I sense only my destruction were I to take that path.

     But I cannot shut out the words (such awful words) though I beg, I plead for them to stop; they chatter and urge and cajole until I fear my very spark will bow under the assault. The images they show me; eon upon eon of memories, our world as seen through a thousand lifetimes (why won't it stop?), and oh, I see. I see our glories, our triumphs, our tragedies and everything we have been, and after an eternity I understand.

     I know my purpose (dread purpose) and my spark sings. I will take the petty accomplishments of these dead phantoms and accomplish what they could not (what they dared not); I will take our people and lead them out amongst the stars. I will take our glories and make the universe witness our majesty (make them KNEEL); and when I am done, when I finally lay myself down to rest (never) I will know that my works are good.

     The endless presences howl their defiance as they realise the wondrous scope of my ambition, but they are dead (deaddeaddead) and they cannot stop me. Even as they shred and worry at my being, I will not bow to them. There are so many (too many) but I will not

     I will

     I

     I


     "Nova? Nova!" Omega Supreme is holding me, and I feel my body (prison) around me once more. "Are you all right? Nova!"

     I feel my face wrench into a rictus grin.

     I can still see the light.

     I can

     I