Rage

"Welcome, milady. I trust your journey to my humble castle, Crown's Peak, was... pleasant?" I say, playing on the interaction he just had with the maid. "How is it that I'm honored to receive such visitors from a land far, far away?" I don't give him time to answer, adding, "Three hundred million light-years away, give or take." I settle into a chair facing the stranger, waiting for his response.

"Hello, Mr. R.G.," he begins. "I—" I stop him.

"Sir R.G. for you."

"Of course, I apologize, Sir," he starts over. "Hello, Sir R.G., my name is GH88F66D." Before he can continue I say, "Are you quite certain about that?" I ask. "On Earth they would have called that a license plate," I say jokingly. Without any reaction, he continues,

"The emperor of Caldwell 35, and ruler of the Coma-Cluster, Praetor Invictus Gryxus sends me to deliver an invitation to our cluster in 5269 years to our 10 millennia festivities."

"Wait—hold on!" I stammer, shock evident in my voice. "Ruler... ruler of the Coma-Cluster?" I ask, worried about what I just heard.

"Jem, are you sure it's that Caldwell 35, as in galaxy and not maybe just a system inside some coincidentally local 'Coma-Cluster'?"

Jem starts: "Yes, Sir. No doubt about that one. Intergalactic coordinates as well as 78038 different star catalogues, all information aligns."

"Hmm..." I say slowly. "Praetor Invictus Gryxus," I whisper to myself. "Ahh! You almost got me. How could I not have seen that? P.I.G. it's just one of those caricature movements, I see." As I say P.I.G., I see GH88F66D making a shocked face for a short moment, followed by a relieved one. "Be glad you are not in the Coma Cluster, Sir. Such a mocking insult there would have resulted in you being tortured for eternity."

"Jem, are you processing this absurdity?" I continue. "Gatefood, tell your Holy Patron Invictus Gapeus that he needs to reconsider his position. For over two Giga-annums now, we've had universal law! And Act 4, the Columbus contract, prohibits any expansion whatsoever." His eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before he regained his neutral expression.

"Oh, please, please stop, Rage. Hearing this from you? The Columbus contract? You are the reason for that contract in the first place!"

The name 'Rage' hit me like a physical blow, dragging me through time. For an instant, I could feel it again, the unbearable heat of a dying star against my face, followed immediately by the absolute zero of space clawing at my skin. The memory of what I'd done, what I'd become.

"You know me, my full name?" I ask in disbelief.

"You, Sir? Rage of the ‘MCAincident’ is legend. Every standard knowledge module contains your entry, though most list you as 'presumably deceased.'"

Weirdly intrigued and also ashamed, I ask jokingly, "Jem, did you hear that? I'm to the universe what Project #888 was to our simulation..." The thought freezes in my mind, a horrifying, perfect analogy. Project #888... and me. The scale was different, but the nature of the crime... it was identical.

I leaned back, processing this. Rage, the name I'd tried to bury under centuries of reinvention. Apparently, the universe had a longer memory than I'd hoped. "What exactly," I asked carefully, "does my entry say?"

GH88F66D's expression shifted slightly. "Rage G.: Architect of the MCA Incident. Responsible for the forced shutdown of run #459 and the relocation of 847 inhabited systems. Status: Exile. Threat Level: Cosmic. Notes: Approach with extreme caution or preferably, not at all."