An Ant at the End of the Universe

The universe was ending.

In truth, that phrasing may be a bit over dramatic– it wasn’t so much coming to an end in an explosive, bombastic fashion (though the supernova from the few stars left certainly made for a beautiful light show), as it was with a slow, sputtering gasp.

More aptly, it was dying.

In a fruitless pursuit to reverse the inevitable heat death of the universe, or really just anything in such a hopeless situation, a lone arthropod had fashioned a humble little spacecraft. Out of scraps of metal and splintered wood it was crafted, rusty nails and wood glue keeping the rattling junk heap fastened together. All signs of life in the universe his species could pick up were fizzling out into radio silence. There was one lone thing that his little radio was receiving now. The only thing left to receive. A ghastly howling of wind, and the quiet dripping of water at the very center of the whole, ever expanding expanse.

His crooked antennae twitched with grief as he witnessed the light of his own exploding star across the massive stretch of space behind him, the encouraging chatter from his in-ship radio descending into a deafening silence.

They had been the closest sentient species to the center of the universe, but no one had ever dared to travel this far. Now, at the center of it all, he was the single living creature in the entirety of space and time to witness it in its full glory. A swirling, brilliant white vortex; shimmering, golden fractal patterns swirling out the center, spreading further and further into deep space with every passing second.

Its sheer size and magnificence was mystifying; the view of his planet behind him paled in comparison. Colors he had never seen rippled out in magnificent, concentric ribbons as he approached; all the while, the few stars he could see left blinked out into the all-consuming darkness around him.

This was it.

The last bastion left in space.

And there was no one left to tell how beautiful it was.

With a little chatter of his chitinous jaws, he pushed forward on the throttle, easing himself in slowly. Advancing further and further, the blinding white glow consumed everything he could see, bathing the interior of his ship in alabaster light.

Then, nothing.

He was still conscious– or at least, he could assume as much. He smelled… nothing. He couldn’t feel his mandibles nervously chattering, and neither of his compound eyes could make out anything but a massive, spinning shape shadowed in the blinding light. He could make out the shadow of multiple concentric rings, all whirling in different directions at a sickeningly rapid velocity.

“AND HOW HAVE YOU FOUND YOURSELF HERE, LITTLE INSECT?”

A voice, a voice! A sound! His exoskeleton trembled from the overwhelming bass the voice output– he imagined this must’ve been what it felt like being next to the tectonic plates on his home grinding across each other. He was surprised he could understand it… all his people were dead now.

All people were dead now.

Was he dead? Was this what was awaiting everyone else? A comforting thought, that he might not be alone here– if that was the case. His mandibles chattered with a bewildered mix of both dread and excitement, desperate to have a chat with this new entity.

[I came here on a ship! The universe is in quite a mess right now– and you seem to be all that’s left! Am I dead? Are we dead?]

There was a rumbling, and a violent wind so fierce it was as if a hundred dervishes were colliding into each other.

“YOU ARE IN A SPACE WHERE DEATH HAS NO HOLD. THE CONCEPT IS UNFATHOMABLE TO THOSE WHO DWELL HERE, AS ONLY THOSE WHO LIVE ON THE OUTSIDE WILL EXPERIENCE IT.”

The ant thought for a moment, shuffling his body to become as comfortable as he could make it. After all, what else was there to do?

[So, this is…. a heaven, of sorts?]

“A HEAVEN? NO. A HAVEN, YES. A PLACE BEYOND SPACE AND TIME– WHERE THE UNTHINKABLE IS THOUGHT, AND THE IMPOSSIBLE GIVEN SHAPE. THIS PLACE HAS EXISTED FAR BEFORE THE BIRTH OF YOUR UNIVERSE, AND WILL LIVE PAST ITS DEATH.”

[Ah, yes. That death part is happening currently, I believe. Or, I suppose, it has happened, hasn’t it?]

“IT HAS.”

[That’s a shame. I quite liked what I got to see of it.]

There was a pause. He could feel a hundred, titanic eyes staring at him– he couldn’t see it, but he could feel the gaze of this lone being casting a million curious glances down at him.

“THERE WERE EONS FOR ONE OF YOU TRANSITORY SENTIENTS TO FIND THIS PLACE. HOW ARE YOU THE ONLY ONE WHO MADE IT HERE?”

The ant thought for a moment.

[Well, I don’t know. I’m surprised I was the only one. I sort of assumed you were all knowing to some degree, can’t you tell me the answer?]

The fathomless being paused as well.

“WE ARE AT A CROSSROADS AT THE MOMENT. EVERYTHING THAT EVER WAS, IS SHUFFLING INTO EVERYTHING THAT WILL EVER BE. UNTIL WE SHAPE THE NEXT UNIVERSE, WE ARE NOT PERMITTED THE KNOWLEDGE OF WHAT HAS BEEN AND WHAT WILL COME OUTSIDE OF THIS HAVEN.”

[That seems so sad.]

“IT IS A FUNCTION. CONCEPTS OF EMOTION ARE MEANINGLESS FOR OUR ROLE IN THE UNIVERSAL CYCLE. WHAT WORTH WILL SUCH FLEETING CHEMICAL REACTIONS SERVE HERE, AT THE END OF EVERYTHING?”

[I happen to like them, thank you. Chemical as they are, they do have their worth and purpose!]

“IRRELEVANT. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO CEASE TO BE, AND FREE YOUR ATOMS FOR USE IN THE NEXT UNIVERSE.”

The ant assumed a defensive pose with its six legs, shaking one of them toward the being.

[Now, just a moment! I came all this way, so I think I’ve at least earned the chance to say my piece! If you’re as old as you say you are, and I am but a momentary blink in this universe, it certainly wouldn’t hurt the schedule to let me speak, would it?]

There was another fierce gust, another terrible rumble.

“IT SERVES NO PURPOSE.”

[Ah, but knowledge always serves a purpose! Do you at least remember what happens in this little period between universes, so to speak?]

“WE DO.”

[Goody! Well, I’d like to talk about my race for just a moment, if it’s all the same to you. If everything that came before is going to go ‘poof’, it would be nice to talk about it all before I go. Do you mind postponing my nonexistence until I finish?]

“I MAKE NO PROMISES.”

The ant smoothed over his bent antennae, taking a moment to collect himself and gather his thoughts.

[Well, you see, my people haven’t been around for very long. In the grand scheme of things, we’re very young. That’s what all our scientists said, at least. In truth, we barely just learned space travel, and the ship I came here on was pretty slap-dash.]

“WE WITNESSED THE CRAFT, YES.”

[Yes, it’s a bit of a mess. The scientists among my people found out that all the stars were beginning to die, including our own– way ahead of what they initially envisioned. So, as the best space pilot we had, they sent me out to the signal in the center of the universe with the best thing we could put together. We put all our hopes in that little tin can.]

“YOUR UNIVERSE IS DEAD. YOUR PEOPLE ARE DEAD. WHAT USE DID SUCH AN ACT SERVE?”

[A mix of things. There were some that hoped whatever I found could save all of them. Some felt it was the only thing left to do, so why not give it a shot? For me, it was curiosity. If we had nothing to lose, why not go out with one last great discovery?]

“AND WHAT HAVE YOU DISCOVERED?”

The ant tilted his head.

[That space is as scary as it is beautiful. That the unknown is as terrifying as it is exciting. I saw a thousand colors of stars I could never imagine in my compound eyes. I saw swirling gas giants of every size, and moons carved with the most gorgeous patterns. More than that, I found you at the end of all things. On top of it all, I get to be there right before it all begins again!]

“YOU WON’T LIVE TO BE IN THE NEXT ONE. WHAT PURPOSE DOES KNOWING SUCH THINGS SERVE?”

[It makes me happy.]

“A PITTANCE. A FEELING AS FLEETING AS THE UNIVERSE ITSELF.”

[Perhaps, but what a wonderful pittance it is! I can find comfort in it– alongside one other thing, of course.]

“AND WHAT WOULD THAT BE, LITTLE CREATURE?”

[That you’ll remember our little talk. You’ll remember me, and you’ll remember my people. Can anything really be so fleeting, when we’ll exist in your thoughts and memories forever?]

There was a long silence. The rumbling quieted, and so did the wind. For a moment, it was peaceful.

“HOW DID YOUR SPECIES LIVE, LITTLE INSECT?”

[We built sprawling, complex colonies from dirt and sand. Every waking moment we helped each other, even if we had our spats and fights on occasion. We worked together to build wonders out of nothing, all the way until we could come here, to the great black sea– and found out the majesty we got to see on our own world was a drop of sand in the infinite beauty of this cosmos. Oh, the things I wish I could’ve seen! The things I could’ve shown you, friend. It was such a good life.]

There was another long silence, the air starting to ripple and shake. The ant could feel his existence falling apart like sands through an hourglass, relaxing as he began to drift away into nothingness.

“INSECT. THE TIME HAS COME. WE CAN PROLONG THIS NO LONGER.”

[I can feel that, yes.]

“IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING LEFT TO SAY– ANY REGRETS TO AIR, NOW IS THE TIME.”

The ant pondered one last time, as his physical form began to collapse to dust and wash away into nothing.

[No regrets… but…] he chattered, lifting his head and clicking his mandibles happily. [I hope there are lots of eager little explorers in the next one!]

With those final words, he was no more. His atoms scattered like ash in the wind. There was no living creature left. Just the massive being swirling above where the ant stood— alongside more coming to join them in the coming turn of the cosmic wheel.

The universe was entirely dead.

And an untold amount of time later— it burst forth from the smallest particle, spreading gorgeous stars and nebulae of every color across the canvas of the cosmos once more.

****************************************************************************

A little girl dashed and rolled around a grassy field, her hair swaying around with every excited step she took. Her older brother chased close behind her, coming to a careening halt as the girl suddenly squatted down next to a muddy puddle.

“Oh no!” she said, “Look at all the ants that drowned…”

Her brother walked behind her, taking a look for himself.

“They are soaked…” he said, leaning down to take a closer look. “But they aren’t dead. Watch this.”

The young man reached down and scooped a bunch of them in his hands, pouring them onto a patch of dry dirt under the shade of a tree. “Take a close look, now….”

The girl walked over and got as close as she could, innocent eyes wide with amazement at what she saw. She watched an ant with bent antennae start to wriggle and move again with the rest of their fellows, flipping back onto its legs and scouting out his new location.

“I didn’t know they could survive in water!”

“Yeah, they’re sturdy little things.”

“Wow….” the girl said, looking up at her brother and beaming. “You think an ant could survive in space, too?”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” her brother said, “I think he’d need a little suit and rocket ship to go out there.”

“True…”

“C’mon, we gotta get back now, Sara. Mom’ll get worried if we’re not back before it’s dark.”

“Fine…” she grumbled, taking the open hand that was offered to her and walking alongside him.

“Maybe I’ll go to space, one day. And I’ll take all the ants with me, in their own tiny suits.”

“I bet you could,” her brother said. “You always were an explorer.”