It has been more than centuries since Humanity left the Earth. It has been millions of years. We wander the skies and galaxy. We have even sent emissaries beyond, to the Local Cluster, the galaxies nearby.
Humanity may look like how we did when we were new within the universe, but we are anything but the same. We have changed. We have grown. We are the gods now. We are powerful, vigorous and immortal if not always virtuous. Ever seeking, sever striving, ever improving and never merely content.
I was rare. I wanted to look back. To see our origins. To not just know them, but taste their spirit and suckle the ambrosia of youth, for we were anything but young. Even our children, our new generations, were not young in the old sense. They had souls older than Sol at birth.
My ship spiraled down. Ever gently, sedately, majestically. She landed and I disembarked, dressed in black.
The Earth was the source of Humanity, if not our home anymore. The Earth was so old...yet so young. Young in ways we were not. I breathed in her aromas, her vigor. I knew this world in my bones. It spoke to my soul. It caressed my wounds. It whispered loving nothings.
I was home.
I walked to the water's edge. I wanted to watch the sun rise. This had been New York, the old capital of the world and last city. There was nothing here that was human. yet...it was our world.
I saw the sun start to creep and prepare to peek above the horizon. I worked to keep my mind clear. I was going to live with spear and stone, cave or tent, primitive, to reconnect to my basal me. I pushed away my plans just to watch. Just to see. Just to experience.
Had I not, I might have missed it. I would have been surprised and possibly ruined what would was to come.
There was a rippling on the water. Faint at first and then slowly breaking the surface. Tentacles. Many of them. All moving slowly, carefully. Then danced like a display. First from one point. Then another.
I watched. Fascinated. They moved forward to the edge of the water. They were not large: no bigger than a medium sized dog. The creatures waving them were walking, some strange cephalopod my mind said. Their skins danced with colors and patterns. My greater self didn't recognize what kind they were. Obviously Earth in origin.
There were thirteen of them.
One approached and reached out with a tentacle. Just one.
Towards me. I bent forward reached out with my hand. My finger touched tip with the tentacle.
I, Lucius Fernando Rameriz of the Knights of Venus, Chronicler of the Morningstar, smirked and knew what I must do.
Humanity may look like how we did when we were new within the universe, but we are anything but the same. We have changed. We have grown. We are the gods now. We are powerful, vigorous and immortal if not always virtuous. Ever seeking, sever striving, ever improving and never merely content.
I was rare. I wanted to look back. To see our origins. To not just know them, but taste their spirit and suckle the ambrosia of youth, for we were anything but young. Even our children, our new generations, were not young in the old sense. They had souls older than Sol at birth.
My ship spiraled down. Ever gently, sedately, majestically. She landed and I disembarked, dressed in black.
The Earth was the source of Humanity, if not our home anymore. The Earth was so old...yet so young. Young in ways we were not. I breathed in her aromas, her vigor. I knew this world in my bones. It spoke to my soul. It caressed my wounds. It whispered loving nothings.
I was home.
I walked to the water's edge. I wanted to watch the sun rise. This had been New York, the old capital of the world and last city. There was nothing here that was human. yet...it was our world.
I saw the sun start to creep and prepare to peek above the horizon. I worked to keep my mind clear. I was going to live with spear and stone, cave or tent, primitive, to reconnect to my basal me. I pushed away my plans just to watch. Just to see. Just to experience.
Had I not, I might have missed it. I would have been surprised and possibly ruined what would was to come.
There was a rippling on the water. Faint at first and then slowly breaking the surface. Tentacles. Many of them. All moving slowly, carefully. Then danced like a display. First from one point. Then another.
I watched. Fascinated. They moved forward to the edge of the water. They were not large: no bigger than a medium sized dog. The creatures waving them were walking, some strange cephalopod my mind said. Their skins danced with colors and patterns. My greater self didn't recognize what kind they were. Obviously Earth in origin.
There were thirteen of them.
One approached and reached out with a tentacle. Just one.
Towards me. I bent forward reached out with my hand. My finger touched tip with the tentacle.
I, Lucius Fernando Rameriz of the Knights of Venus, Chronicler of the Morningstar, smirked and knew what I must do.
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