The Infinite Cold of Space; Speaking

The infinite cold of space can seem to stretch out forever and ever to the untrained eye. To the trained eye, it still goes on forever, but it’s just slightly less scary, and it’s not as cold because trained eyes bring jackets and hot chocolate so they aren’t as chilly. Many interstellar interlopers describe the infinite cold of space as rather sentient, as a result of a dozen incidents where a perhaps-future-settlement has simply coughed up the intruders; or they’ll describe it as too dark, because honestly, can the infinite cold of space provide some flashlights? 

Occasionally, the infinite cold of space can be interrupted by a star, or perhaps a planet. No one hears the planets talk, (even though they’re apparently sentient), but if one listens closely, one can sometimes hear static, maybe, or a clearing of a throat, a planet attempting to speak . . .

'Hellooooo? Testing? Hiiiii?' 

'Yes?!'

‘Hi! It’s, it’s Zeta.’

‘I don’t know you. Goodbye--’

‘No, wait, I just wanted to say hello.’

‘Is this about the insurance? Because for the last time, I don’t want it.’

‘No, no. It’s Zeta. The planet.’

‘I’m sorry, who?’ 

‘Zeta? I was born a couple billion years ago, in the neighbouring solar system. I just unlocked my communications potential!’  

‘You just-- you just unlocked it? As in I’m the first planet you’ve talked to?’ 

‘Yes!’ 

‘How unfortunate.’ 

‘Unfortunate? Why?’

‘Unfortunate for me, not for you.’ 

‘Oh.’ 

‘Are we quite done? Because the elderly nebula next door is out of milk and she wants me to run to the store.’ 

‘No! No, wait. Who are you? What’s your solar system like? I’m carbon based! Are you . . . carbon based?’ 

‘Jesus Christ-- fine. I’m Delta. I’m in a solar system with the star Gamma in the centre, and two other planets, Mu and Nu, who aren’t as nice as I am. They were once the same planet but some rogue asteroid with a death wish planted itself right in the middle. If I’m being honest, I think Mu and Nu have some sort of hivemind complex going on. And I’m not carbon based. I’m made of silicon and oxygen.’ 

‘Cool! Nice to meet you, Delta. I’m surprised I haven’t met anyone in your system yet, considering that me and Upsilon are so close to you. 

‘We’re all rather introverted.’

‘Intro-vert?’ 

‘Means that we aren’t menaces to the universe.’ 

‘Sounds boring.’ 

‘On the plus side, small, carbon-based planets -- who just unlocked their communications -- don’t interrupt us to ask about our solar system.’ 

‘Hey!’

‘Hey yourself.’ 

‘Wait, I have to go. Upsilon had a reaction to an excess of hydrogen. Honestly, you’d think a red giant like him would learn! I’ll talk to you later.’ 

‘Oh, joy.’ 

***

The infinite cold of space -- which, by the way, is now several degrees colder -- looks rather like a nice shade of navy blue, instead of black on the morning that the first Great Rip is discovered. A white, blinding line zigzags across a patch of empty space, creating a sort of vacuum that is sucking in dark matter and husks of dead stars. Several planets and comets have visited: it’s not that often that they get a new tourist attraction, after all. None of them have come back. 

Several hundred thousand kilometres away from the Rip, one can hear static, an excited tapping, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . . 

‘Delta! Delta, you there?’

‘What time is it? Who is this?’  

‘Time for you to be up! It’s Zeta, your planetary friend!’ 

‘Oh my-- Zeta. Again.’

‘Yep! Up bright and early!’

‘It can’t be bright. It’s space.’ 

‘It’s the thought that counts. Don’t be such a Debbie downer!’

‘Who’s Debbie?’

‘Nevermind. Have you heard about the Great Rip? Has Gamma?’ 

‘Gamma doesn’t get out much. But I have. Rather boring, if you ask me.’ 

‘Boring? Boring?! Are you kidding? It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened since I can remember!’ 

‘Uh-huh. What is it, exactly? The Meteoroid Tabloid isn’t that reliable.’

‘You read that trash?’

‘It’s how I keep up on celebrity gossip. Did you know that Nebula H67-94 split up with Nebula J23-78? Apparently J23-78 cheated on H67-94 with an asteroid. Unbelievable.’ 

‘Wait, really? I thought they just got married? Wasn’t H67-94 pregnant with triplet stars as well?’ 

‘Yeah, it’s awful. An asteroid, Zeta, an asteroid.’

‘Hold on, didn’t -- wait! That’s off topic! I was telling you about the Rip!’

‘Right, right.’ 

‘It’s basically a giant vacuum. It’s like the name says, just a Rip in the fabric of space. My friend’s cousin’s boyfriend’s sister went in, and didn’t come back. I wonder what’s out there.’ 

‘Probably nothing.’ 

‘There has to be something! There can’t just be, be nothing.’ 

‘What exactly did you think existed before the Big Bang?’ 

‘I was rather fond of the theory that two existing universes collided together to make this one.’

‘And what was there before those two universes?’

‘Uh.’

‘My point exactly.’ 

‘Anyway! If there is nothing behind the Rip, then why is it there?’ 

‘Maybe the Universe sneezed.’ 

‘That’s boring.’ 

‘Oh, I’m sorry, let’s make it more exciting. A cross-Universe adventurer plowed through the fabric of time and space with a shark-shaped spaceship that happened to be painted colours that haven’t been invented yet! Oh, and the traveller inside? Yep, an alien.’

‘Oh, be quiet. It’s interesting, alright?’

‘Vaguely. What do you think will happen if it grows bigger? Or more appear? We’d all get demolished.’ 

‘True. But I still wanna see what’s out there.’ 

‘An adventurer, are you?’

‘A bit.’

‘Have fun with that.’

‘Thanks, Delta!’

‘Yep.’ 

***

The infinite cold of space seems to be a little lonelier on the day the 11th Great Rip is discovered. Planets and stars and nebulas are disappearing by the dozens, never to be seen again. The Meteoroid Tabloid claims that the Great Rips are invented by the black holes in an attempt to destroy the ‘last of the good standing citizens of this Universe!’ The Meteoroid Tabloid conveniently ignored the fact that none of their editors have been sucked into the Great Rips themselves. 

If one listens closely, navigating the Great Rips with caution, one can hear static, a ringing phone, a nervous laugh, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . . 

‘I can’t believe I’m -- oh, hello? Zeta?’ 

Nothing. 

‘Zeta, are you awake? You aren’t . . . gone, are you?’

Nothing. 

‘The Great Rips are getting dangerous. Don’t tell me you’ve gone to one.’ 

Nothing. 

‘Upsilon, right? The red giant? Is Zeta there?’ 

Nothing. 

***

The infinite cold of space is slowly, but surely, getting eviscerated by the 269 Great Rips that now exist in the Universe. Entire solar systems have been destroyed, while planets and comets flee to neighbouring nebulas in hope of safety. The Milky Way Galaxy got sucked in in one fell swoop, but no one really cared except for Halley’s comet, who is currently being comforted by an elderly white dwarf star in Andromeda. (According to the Meteoroid Tabloid, Halley’s comet is particularly mourning the loss of one planet ‘Earth’. (No one at the Meteoroid Tabloid or the white dwarf star knows who ‘Earth’ was.)) 

In a safe reach of space, far away from the Great Rips, one can hear static, tapping, a voice, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . . 

‘Delta?’

‘Zeta?’

‘That’s my name, don’t wear it out.’

‘Oh my god, Zeta -- I --’ 

‘Are you ok? You don’t sound ok.’

‘I -- I’m fine.’ 

‘As long as you’re sure.’

‘I’m fine. Where have you been?’ 

‘How’d you know I was gone?’

‘I, uh, I just noticed you hadn’t pestered me in nearly a dozen years. Got curious, that was all.’ 

‘Oh! Well, I took Upsilon to see a Great Rip.’

‘Zeta! You idiot! You know how dangerous those are, right?’

‘Yeah, duh. I wasn’t born with an iron base, Delta.’ 

‘Nice.’

‘Anyway, Upsilon wanted to see it. He’s getting old, you know? Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s so large and gaseous that I worry he’s going to go black hole soon.’ 

‘Oh no. What are you going to do? Did he enjoy the Rips?’

‘I’ll probably relocate before he goes. I hear the K76-23 nebula is recruiting babysitters for the star nursery. I’ve always liked kids. And yes, he loved it! Said something about the Great Beyond, but you know how the red giants are.’

‘Definitely.’

‘Also, I don’t think you noticed, but I had a chance to visit your system while I was taking Upsilon! You didn’t tell me you had weather. I can see your hurricanes from miles away!’

‘You-- you what?’

‘I visited you.’

‘And you saw my weather?’

‘Yeah?’

‘And I didn’t see you?’

‘Apparently not. Oh, also, dude, your axis? Why is it so tilted? How extreme are your seasons?’

‘Pretty extreme. My parents hate my axis. They say it’s in the ‘family genes’ to be perfectly vertical. As if.’

‘Sorry about that.’ 

‘It’s ok. At least I have weather, unlike my mom. She’s also iron based, which, hello, huge red flag.’

‘Your mom is iron based? That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all day.’

‘Right? Hey, you never told me what you looked like either. You owe me now.’

‘I’ll just visit you someday. I don’t think words will do my beauty justice, Delta.’

‘Right.’ 

‘Hey!’

‘Hey yourself.’ 

***

The infinite cold of space is smaller now. The Great Rips make up 60% of the known Universe and most planets have fled or have been sucked into the Beyond. (The Meteoroid Tabloid gave tips on relocating solar systems, but their studio disappeared before the issue could go into a second printing.) Time travellers are desperately trying to find the source of the Rips, but none of them have been successful thus far. One failed attempt caused a continual time loop in which unlimited lemon squares were shot into various black holes. (No one asked what happened.) 

Against all odds, there exists a corner of space where no Great Rips live. If one has a cassette recorder, or a stethoscope, one can listen to static, the swivelling of ears, muttering, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . . 

‘Delta! Yo, Delta! Delta, Delta, Delta.’

‘What? What could possibly be so important that you had to wake me up?’

‘Hi.’

‘Oh you-- you’re lucky you’re barely magnetic, or I’d fling you into into Mu or Nu and have them put their full wrath on you.’ 

‘On that note, why are our systems so close?’

‘No idea. We seem to have drifted closer because of the Rips.’

‘We’re lucky that there aren’t any close to here.’

‘Agreed. How’s Upsilon?’

‘He’s gotten worse. His hydrogen levels are depleting, and I think he’s running the risk of nuclear fusion.’

‘I don’t want to pressure you, but if I were you, I’d say my goodbyes. Remember what happened to Sigma’s system when they refused to move?’

‘Yeah. I just don’t know where I’d go, given how the Rips have eaten everything.’

‘You could join our system.’

‘Wait, really? I thought you hated me!’

‘What can I say, you’re like a Martian fungus. You grew on me and I couldn’t do anything.’

‘Aw, love you too.’ 

‘Ha ha. I’m being serious, though. It’s only a matter of time before Upsilon goes black hole, Zeta. You’d be gone forever.’

‘I mean, is it that much different than eventually being sucked up by a Great Rip?’

‘I guess not.’

‘But you still haven’t seen my beauty! Dude, this morning, I discovered a weather system near my pole!’ 

‘That’s awesome! Congrats.’

‘I think I have to go soon. He’s getting smaller.’

‘Ok, see you soon. Be careful, Zeta.’

‘Thanks, Delta.’

***

The infinite cold of space is almost gone. The Great Rips are rapidly moving across the Universe, eating up everything in their path. (If the Meteoroid Tabloid was still running, it would say that the Great Rips needed to try the latest neon-only diet that came directly from Nebula B12-90, who had lost 12% of her dark matter in 2 weeks!) In a small, dark corner near the edge of the Universe, one can barely see a small solar system. A nearby black hole is spinning wildly, and gas formations around it say that the black hole is not very old. The small solar system has a steadily burning star, (if one was friends with the star, one would discover the star’s name was Gamma), and four planets. Two of them were nearly identical in size and were orbiting near each other, close to the star. The other two were further away. One was small, and carbon based. The other was larger, but seemed to be edging closer to the other planet. 

If one listens closely, one can hear static, hurricanes whistling, tapping and murmuring, perhaps, planets, attempting to speak . . .