Black Hole Solitude

The tendrils surrounding the black hole slithered out in shades of fire-burnt vermillion. They spiraled around the jet-black circle at the center, their vaporous spirit cascading out into the stellar void surrounding. Anything that drew too close to the massive body was doomed to join it, as it sucked in everything in range, right along with any misguided hope of escape.

For nearly as long as the insect species Komaxa, of the planet Vulik, had been a spacefaring society, they had chosen to give this sector of space a wide berth. As far as they were concerned, trifling with such a destructive force would bring no glory or progress whatsoever to their hive. Therefore, no consideration of studying it had ever been entertained. And what the hive decided tended to stay essentially set in stone no matter how much time had passed. Dissension simply wasn’t a thing in their collective. At least, it hadn’t been until very recently.

This dissension was currently embodied by an obsidian-toned light transport on approach to the black hole’s position in space. The body of the craft was matte black stone in appearance, the surface of which reflected none of the surrounding environment. The dark glass of the windows shimmered with an almost greasy appearance, swirled with chaotic streaks of oily purple and violent indigo throughout. At the aft of the spacecraft were twin engines, emitting brilliant cerulean light trails as they forced it towards the awaiting collapsed star.

Manning the helm of this craft, which was called Corabel, was a member of the Komaxi hive. This was the dissenter, who answered to the name of Bocek. His four coarse back legs rested upon the ashen gray floor of the Corabel’s small bridge. The legs were olive green in color, as was the rest of Bocek’s body. Sitting in the leftmost of the two seats, his four gangly arms carefully manipulated the ships controls as the bug directed it closer to its destination.

The interior of the ship was dimly lit in several variations of emerald and turquoise, which reflected off of Bocek’s two maroon, multifaceted eyes. As they scanned the surrounding area outside his window, one of his upper arms unconsciously stroked at his twitching antennae, pulling them both together briefly.

He had long since disengaged the warning messages that Corabel had been crowing out at him from the control console. Bocek knew full well that he was flying into an unhospitable situation, and the computer continuously reminding him of this wouldn’t change his mind concerning his chosen course of action. Frankly, if his baffled hive had been unable to sway him, there was no chance that vibrant purple flashes of Komaxi script would stand any chance of doing so.

Honestly, “baffled” may not even be the correct term to properly illustrate the shared emotion of his brothers and sisters of the hive. Bocek’s species had always arrived at every decision together, and they had long ago decided to leave well enough alone here. So, the notion that he wanted to actually fly a ship into the dark iris, and away from millennia of Komaxi decision-making tradition, outright terrified them. So much so that they had granted him his wish to do so, assuming that he would simply die, and his perversion would perish right along with the misguided pariah.

Bocek had not always been an outsider. In fact, the first century of his life had been spent in unanimous consent with the established customs and decisions of the hive. He had been a part of the collective voice, and thus carried out its will with no consideration at all of the potential for individual agency. However, that had all changed a decade ago, when he had an experience that completely severed his connection to his people, for a time, and sent him down a path all his own.

He had been a part of a twenty-bug crew exploring the furthest reaches of the galaxy known to the Komaxa, and had enjoyed his role within society immensely. Then, the mission had been met with disastrous circumstance. An undetected cascade of micrometeorites had ripped its way through the ship’s hull, and the insects had been forced to crash land on an unexplored planetary body. Every other member of the crew had died during the descent, or soon after, leaving Bocek alone for the first time in his life. Understandably, Bocek had not handled the situation well. Being connected to only the other minds of his crew had been a form of solitude so stark that it had required years of rigorous training and conditioning for them to be able to withstand it. To be absolutely alone, that proved to be painfully paralyzing.

Bocek had spent several days just staring across the chartreuse plains of the planet, the weight of the psychic silence being far too much for him to function. Eventually though, the need for sustenance drove him to a slow, desperate crawl. And after enough time he learned how to exist in his hive of one. It wasn’t easy. It was necessary.

After three years of being alone, a rescue mission had found him and brought him back to his home on Vulik. Reintegration into his society had proven to be…problematic. He had grown accustomed to the single voice of his inner monologue being the sole force guiding his thoughts and actions. In fact, he had grown to prefer it, which, if discovered, would be an unacceptable taboo within Komaxi society. So, like all intelligent perverts, he chose to hide this persuasion away in the deepest recesses of his psyche.

The strain of the secret state of his mind would erode away his resolve over the next seven years. Finally, like an addict unable to withstand the chaos of sobriety any longer, he knew his desire for individualism would need to be satisfied. Which is when the idea of exploring the black hole had entered his mind. It may be certain death, he’d thought, but had decided that he was willing to take that risk. While he was a closeted individual, he still possessed enough indoctrination from over a century of hive life to want to serve its greater good. So, if he could find his peace, as well as expand the knowledge of his people, then it was a mutually beneficial arrangement in his estimation.

A shudder shook the Corabel as the black hole grabbed ahold of the ship and began drawing it in. His verdant mandibles chittered in anticipation as he began activating the instruments that would send data back to the hive. With any luck, they would be able to make good use of any information he might be able to gather. In all likelihood, it would simply reaffirm their decision to stay away. Though, given that he would almost certainly be dead within minutes, it was equally likely he’d never know either way.

Bocek began to feel…odd…as Corabel was sucked towards the eye of the black hole. He disengaged his engines, as he wouldn’t be needing them any longer. Another shockwave rocked the ship as he did so. There was a tingling sensation rippling across the underside of his exoskeleton. Whether or not it was created by his proximity to the black hole, or just his excitement at the thought of finally being truly alone once more, he couldn’t tell. Nausea suddenly gripped him as he came within a few hundred feet of his goal, before subsiding almost as quickly.

And then…he entered the unknown.

Stillness enshrouded Corabel. The window in front of Bocek revealed nothing, just a great, dark emptiness. The odd sensation he had felt before entering the eye had stayed with him. He raised his arms up in front of him, illuminated by the blues and greens of Corabel’s interior. Looking upon them, they felt alien, though he was certain they had not changed. Everything around him seemed new, yet somehow the same. What had definitely changed was that he had switched from the left seat of the bridge to the one directly next to it on the right.

“What a strange, and seemingly mundane, result for such a profound occurrence,” Bocek thought to himself groggily.

He directed both of his multifaceted eyes to the seat he had previously occupied, expecting to see it empty. Instead, there was another Komaxi sitting there. Though, even as he thought that, he knew it wasn’t accurate. It was not another Komaxi. He was still alone. The bug he was looking at was Bocek, just as he was Bocek. Somehow, flying into the black hole had created a copy of the insect seeking solitude, and he was the copy. The other Bocek before him cocked its head counterclockwise in curiosity, his eyes blinking quickly as it undoubtedly came to the same irrefutable conclusion.

Their thoughts connected, creating a new form of hive mind. While Bocek knew he was no longer thinking solely for himself, both were still able to bask in the desired sensation of isolation, given their identical nature. They engaged Corabel’s engines and flew further into the starless black. A collective decision had been made independently. Bocek would explore the unknown stretched out before them in expansive plains of dark nothingness. The two insects would savor each other’s absence together, as they both discovered a new realm, all alone.