ElectronX
18-05-2007, 05:54
Many compare space to the ocean; both are vast beyond the measure of the human mind, and both contain their own perils, but that really, is where the similarities end.
Within an ocean, life permeates every molecule of water. Within space, only a chance few locations are graced by passing dust clouds and base atoms. An ocean has barriers, and space has none; an ocean may be understood, but space cannot.
There exists phenomenae that many races will never encounter, and yet still others will wish they never had.
--
At first, it's size is infinitesimal, but it still moves wildly like a snake made of emerald embers. It's only a sliver too insignificant to matter, but only for a fleeting instant is this the case.
The next moment it spans the length of a lightyear, unleashing a cascade of radiation visible to the naked eye from a similar distance, but it's width is still barely measurable, even by the sophisticated instruments of galactic powers. Yet, even that is only true for a moment.
As if it had been stabbed by a defiled rapier, space was disfigured by a scar that was lightyears in diameter. A sickly green sea of exotic particles that saturated space with radio waves that sounded like the growl of a frantically dying animal; a disgusting verdant sore that encompassed an entire binary system full of planets and asteroids: whatever its nature, or its origins, the details were irrelevant, all that mattered was that it existed, eating away at space and time, with grooves and impressions rising up through its skin; trying to break through the surface, into an unsuspecting universe.
Within an ocean, life permeates every molecule of water. Within space, only a chance few locations are graced by passing dust clouds and base atoms. An ocean has barriers, and space has none; an ocean may be understood, but space cannot.
There exists phenomenae that many races will never encounter, and yet still others will wish they never had.
--
At first, it's size is infinitesimal, but it still moves wildly like a snake made of emerald embers. It's only a sliver too insignificant to matter, but only for a fleeting instant is this the case.
The next moment it spans the length of a lightyear, unleashing a cascade of radiation visible to the naked eye from a similar distance, but it's width is still barely measurable, even by the sophisticated instruments of galactic powers. Yet, even that is only true for a moment.
As if it had been stabbed by a defiled rapier, space was disfigured by a scar that was lightyears in diameter. A sickly green sea of exotic particles that saturated space with radio waves that sounded like the growl of a frantically dying animal; a disgusting verdant sore that encompassed an entire binary system full of planets and asteroids: whatever its nature, or its origins, the details were irrelevant, all that mattered was that it existed, eating away at space and time, with grooves and impressions rising up through its skin; trying to break through the surface, into an unsuspecting universe.