I sit—as I often do—in the observation dome. A transparent bubble, it protrudes from Ashanti’s hull on Deck Three. I look out upon an infinity of stars, see the swirls of nebulae, marvel at patches of dark matter that appear as blemishes upon the composition of light. Gazing at the heavens, I experience the full meaning of awe. To sit here is to dimly, feebly perceive the majesty of Creation. The magnificence of the universe beyond the dome defies comprehension. Reconfirms how small, how absolutely insignificant my existence is.
A mere mote. Not even a speck upon the face of the deep.
I need but look out at the universe and the words of the Prophets resonate within me. Understanding pervades my soul: I have been chosen.
We have been chosen.
Here, in this most unlikely place. Among these most unlikely circumstances.
Only after years of doubt, of faltering faith, do I begin to understand: The universe does not make mistakes. It had to be Ashanti. It had to be on this spacing. And it had to be us, the Irredenta, who were chosen to initiate such an immense task.
What we believed to be tragedy, injustice, and horror was nothing more than the universe preparing us for the ultimate revelation. As seemingly insignificant as we might appear, we are the beginning, the spark that shall ignite the flame. Great things come from tiny beginnings. Consider a microRNA. It, too, seems insignificant at first glance. A mere twenty-two base pairs. It can turn a gene on or off, initiating a chain of events that will change an organism, a species, and an entire biome. From the microscopic to the multiverse.
So it is for us.
The Harrowing and Cleansing was necessary to ensure that when we were given the Revelation we would understand. The universe had to lock us in Ashanti’s belly. Onto this one miserably cramped deck. It had to confine us to these few rooms, these short corridors and dim halls. An entire universe condensed into this compact existence. The perfect place to break us, to shatter our illusions. Only through the Harrowing and the Cleansing could we be prepared, made malleable like white-hot iron in a furnace, purified through heat, and ready to accept Revelation.
The Revelation ran counter to all we once believed, which is the way of illumination. It was the only way we could learn, could see, and finally accept ultimate Truth: The universe is conflict. It is polluted and unclean. The only way it can be purified is by consuming itself and being reborn. Think of the ancient image of the snake devouring its own tail.
It has fallen to us—to me—to initiate the pulse of rebirth that will cleanse and renew the universe. And I am desperately afraid that I am unworthy of so great a task.
If Deck Three didn’t have this observation dome, I would never have found the strength to endure the burden. But looking out at the infinite dots of light, the frosting of stars and galaxies that mottle the endless black, I manage to carry on.
The universe doesn’t make mistakes.
If it has chosen me to be its messiah, it is because somehow, I will prevail.
I finger the scars on my arms, remembering the words of the Prophet Guan Shi. How we were horrified as she took a knife to her own skin and began to cut herself, saying, “Pain is purification. It is the path.”