To Heal, To Kill

S.G.: "So he was an antiques trader after all?" S.G. laughs, the sound carrying across the vast space between them.

R.G.: "Actually, I don't know what he was. Too convenient, too well informed. That wasn't just a messenger. And I sincerely doubt that was his main body."

S.G.: "How much do you want for it? I actually liked the look of it, and this one seems to be in perfect condition."

A faint smile touches my lips. I gently pat Nunzi on the head.

R.G.: "I'm actually not selling Sir Nunzi Ping. I stopped entity trafficking 2 Ga before it even became illegal. Bad for the brand, worse for the conscience, and yes, S.G., before you ask, I do still have one of those buried somewhere."

S.G.: "There is so much to address in that sentence. First, how did you get the right to grant knighthood? I'll ignore the name for now. Second, since when do you care about something being illegal?"

R.G.: "I don't. That's why I stopped two billion years before the bureaucrats even noticed. Besides that," I pause, a dangerous glint in my eye. "if you bring the Sim up, and I can see this is clearly heading that way, Yes, I know. Highly illegal. But T.M. and I are its creators. Its inventors, if you want to be poetic. And for the record, I did apply for a permit. Went the official route." I lean back, a dark, amused smile playing on my lips. "It was denied, of course."

S.G.: "I'm not sure if you've realized that by now, but them not giving you a permit is just their way of saying: 'In case the universe explodes, or life as we know it ceases to exist: We warned him.'"

R.G.: "As funny as it is, as true it also is." I laugh, the sound echoing slightly in the vast room. With a flick of my wrist, a holographic map of the Coma Cluster materializes in the air, a sector of it pulsing with a furious red light. "On a more serious note. Emperor P.I.G. is in full-on rage-mode."

S.G.: "Oh, shit. But don't they have any system to prevent that? And what's his goal?"

R.G.: "Don't know, haven't been there yet. And his reason?" I shrug casually. "He's bored. After a mere 350 million years. I admittedly had a 'crisis' every other eon, but since we started treating organs like literal parts and three-month-long benders became a possibility, well. So far, every crisis was cured by them."

S.G.: "So, that's your great reputation, then? You 'cure' people?" the humor now tinged with sharp irony.

I fall silent for a long moment. My gaze is lost in a swirling nebula outside the viewport. When I speak again, the easy laughter is gone from my voice, replaced by something thin and brittle.

R.G.: "Curing, killing... the line gets blurry when you're good at both. My method just has the side effect of making me look like a walking abomination instead of what I really am." I pause, watching a dying star collapse in the distance. "My heart only stopped twice, and one of those was during that legendary six-month bender." After a short moment reflecting on that time, I continue, "It works, so why should I not? If you want I can switch it up with some end time shit."

S.G.: "Hell no. Actually, I see it now for what it is. A state of complete relaxation."

R.G.: "I have been telling you that for literal ages. Anyhow, this might be your chance to finally experience your weird idea of non-existence. Just saying those words makes me feel like a crazy person. Crazy by my definition. Yes, humans back then thought death was non-existence. But nothing can go on forever, and everything turns out to be not what we think it is."

S.G.: "It can't, correct. But 'forever' is just another word for infinity, and infinity is just a matter of perspective. You see eternity as endless experience. I see it as the ultimate prison. Non-existence isn't the opposite of experience, R.G., it's the only true freedom from it. Coming from you, the man who wanted to be waterboarded for the 'experience', who are you to judge mine?"

I throw my head back and laugh, a genuine, booming sound.

R.G.: "You said it yourself: experience. Non-existence is the complete opposite of experiencing." I sober instantly, my hand slicing through the holographic cluster, zooming in on two terrifyingly bright points of light that pulse in sync. "But before it's too late, and we've been talking while they've been working, they're planning to merge a Class V." The holographic display shifts, showing the terrifying mathematics of such a merger.

S.G.: "Fuck." The word hangs in the void between them. "So they're mad, but methodical. That's the worst combination possible."

R.G.: "And they are into Latin. Predictably. That makes it the fourth of its kind we've seen. Four for four. Four empires, four Latin obsessions, four apocalyptic plans. Either the universe has a sense of ironic humor, or someone's been studying my old playbook a little too carefully."

S.G.: "Fascinating. You seem to be uncovering something. Thinking about the implications of what you said, and it being either an off-switch or a reset. If it is the latter, and it causes some new beginning, a new Big Bang if you will, would that prove any theory?"

R.G.: "Interesting question. But would it matter? When every piece of knowledge, every entity, every single one of us would simply..." I pause, the weight of the words settling like cosmic dust. "The terrifying part isn't that they want to end everything, S.G. It's that they might actually succeed where I failed. And unlike my little 'experiments,' their reset button doesn't have an undo function. Actually, don't answer that. I think I already know where you stand on universal extinction."