Eighty days. Less than a blink in the eternity of my life, but now that span of time seems like an age. And it may seem even longer without Qod. I am tempted to visit one more life—a contented soul—during that time, but I cannot give in to the temptation. Nothing should distract me from my new purpose.
Below my feet the steady rumble of the Soul Consortium’s slipstream engines build their gradual crescendo, bringing back memories of the first time they were used. I have no desire to experience another journey through the heart of the universe for the third time. I did it once myself and once as Oluvia Wade, but nobody found out what it would be like to go back through the opposite way. I remember the pain. With the immense power fluctuations at the point of impact, the Control Core cannot suppress the sensations in the human body. But this has to be done.
Ahead of me, still clogging the Consortium gardens, is Vieta’s abnormality, heaving like a restless sea of bone and flesh against the transparent walls of the sphere, crushing the trees under its weight and lamenting its own existence. Outside the boundaries of the universe it seems Vieta is unable to locate his creation, but that may change when we pass through the Singularity again. Just as he has no real intention of returning Qod to me, I have no intention of releasing this abomination to him. Otherwise the consequences for creation would be disastrous, and I would have nothing left with which to bargain. He must know I plan to deceive him, and if I return this monster to him, he’ll simply dispose of me and continue where he left off, ready to celebrate his offspring’s coming of age and the resulting dissolution of my universe.
I take one last look at the gardens I once cherished above all else, then give the order. “Control, detach Consortium Royal Garden Sphere and jettison.”
Please confirm trajectory.
“It doesn’t matter. As far away from the Promethean Singularity as possible. It must never get back into the universe, so just get it away from here. Away from me.”
Calculating … detaching … ejecting.
With a vast shudder, hoses, fibers, umbilicals, and bridges snap away from the sphere, leaving clouds of gas and debris to jet away into the darkness. A pulse of energy buffets the sphere, and a few seconds later it drifts away from the rest of the Consortium—a massive glass ball tumbling into infinity, filled with a living horror I hope nobody ever finds, most of all Vieta.
“Good riddance,” I say, turning my back to return to the Soul Spheres.