Until the End

In the vastness of space there was a rock.

It was relatively small compared to the enormous star it orbited, yet far bigger still than the millions of pieces of stone and debris that swirled and pelted its surface. This rock was just one of billions; tucked away in the corner of one of countless galaxies. This rock, however, was special. This rock had water. And it was on this rock that two microbes had come to a very important decision. They had decided to take full advantage of their welcoming environment and evolve into cyanobacteria.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s virtually impossible to pick out a “first” from the millions of photosynthesising organisms that now covered the rock. But there was a first. Two, in fact. Two organisms that made the jump in the exact same fraction of a fraction of a nanosecond.

There are only three things you need know about them: Their names are Azel and Laow; they will always be together; and they are the first, and last, life in the universe.

Life was hard for the single-cell organisms. Or rather, it was quite easy, but lacked any of the variety or perceptions that might make that life worth living. Laow and Azel’s first billion years were spent floating in an ocean vaster than they could comprehend and doing the only thing they knew how to do: turn sunlight into oxygen.

One day, Laow started collecting cells to live within them. Other microbes. Specialized. Azel, not to be outdone, started collecting cells as well. Not out of jealousy, as they possessed none of the faculties to process such an emotion, but rather because it seemed like the proper thing to do.

It took three hundred million years for Laow to collect enough cells that they could actually move about. Laow fashioned themselves into a sort of worm-like creature, complete with little frills to prowl through the water. Moving through the water looked like such a fun prospect that Azel simply had to follow suit. Laow and Azel’s senses were both dim. Underdeveloped. But even with their limited ability to perceive the world around them, they could tell: The oceans were getting emptier. And so it was that Azel and Laow witnessed their first extinction event. They didn’t know whether any life would persist. Did not know how long it would be before things stopped dying. But they knew, somehow, before they had even approached any ideas of self-actualization, that they would be the last. That so long as there was life, they would be there to live among it.

Two hundred million years later Azel first crawled onto land, sporting new innovations such as a “spine”, “organs”, and some strange appendages they called “legs”. Laow had never been on land before and followed suit—it seemed like the next logical place to go. What the two of them found was a world unlike any they had experienced in their billion years of life. Even just the beach they found themselves on was full of strange new sensations and sights. Laow spent the first hundred years or so stuck on that sandy beach, unsure of how to move their fins in such a way as to propel themselves forward. Azel, on the other hand, took more of a natural inclination to the earth. Soon Azel was walking. Then climbing. Then bounding, revelling in this new world. They wanted to explore, to see it all. But not without Laow. And besides—a century wasn’t such a long time to wait, in the grand scheme of things.

Laow and Azel travelled together, watching as reeds and ferns became massive, towering trees and great primordial forests. They met other creatures now—other beings that had made the transition to land. And for the first time in their entire lives, Azel and Laow’s evolutionary paths diverged.

Azel revelled in the speed with which one could cross the land. They liked to climb. To sprint. To see the world from every vantage. To always chase the horizon. Laow, on the other hand, preferred their pace slow. Thoughtful. Sometimes, Azel would race on ahead, springing from fascination to fascination. This didn’t bother Laow, who would find a nice rock, one where they could soak up the sun, and wait. Safe in the knowledge that one day, Azel’s path would cross theirs’ again.

It was on such a rock that Azel and Laow looked out into a fiery, smoke-filled sky. They had witnessed many extinction events like this one. Many times, it had looked like life would die. But never before had either of them had the sense, or indeed the capability, to comprehend extinction on such a large scale. They simply sat on that rock for a millennium, silent, wondering if this was finally their time to go. 

Of course, it wasn’t. Simply another ending. And soon, Azel was once again swinging on ahead, and Laow was slowly following after them, anxious to see this reborn world.

The creatures were hairier now. Smarter. And it was with this increased knowledge that Azel approached Laow in wonder one day.  

Laow was digging. Not just with their hands, but with a stick. A stick that they grasped in their strange, multi-jointed paw. They were placing it within the small hole of a dead tree, waiting patiently, then withdrawing it, covered in delicious bugs.

“What is that?” Azel might have said. Language was not something they possessed. But the pair had long since learned the difference between a grunt of confusion and a snarl of anger.

“A stick.” Laow might have replied.

“Not your stick. That.” Azel grunted, nudging the strange paw Laow now possessed.

Laow held it up. They had grown multiple appendages at the end of their arm, each able to work together or alone. “A hand,” Laow would later clarify.

“I want one,” Azel decided.

It felt like a matter of moments, comparatively, before they were both using sticks. Fastening sharp things on to the ends. To cut, and gather, and hunt. There were other beings that travelled with Azel and Laow now—others who could also cut, and gather, and hunt. But these creatures died, while Azel and Laow did not. Witnessing the death of others was not unusual to Azel and Laow. It had been happening since the beginning of life itself. But for the first time, the other beings were able to comprehend it.

“The chief has asked if we can end the rains.” Laow said, with proper language this time.

Azel looked at them and laughed. “Is that something you can do? End the rains?”

Laow shook their head. “No. But the others, they have been talking. They realize that they grow old and perish, and we do not.”

“Yes. And?”

“And so, they wonder what other abilities we may possess,” Laow clarified.

Azel thought about that and smiled. “I am going to tell them I can change the weather. But only if they bring me food.”

“Don’t do that,” Laow chided.

“Why not?” Azel asked.

“Because you can’t change the weather!” Laow said.

“The rain will cease eventually. And then they will thank me for it.”

Azel’s plan worked, for a time. But soon, people began to grow angry with them. They knew Azel would not die, but Azel possessed no other power that inflicted fear, and many got it in their head that they could just beat the weather they wanted out of Azel. Truth be told, Azel had grown bored of the people anyway. They longed to see more of the world, and the other beings were slowing down—sticking to the same plains, the same forests. And so Azel left, but Laow did not go with them. That was okay. They knew they would see each other again.

In all their time on this earth, Azel had never seen the like of what they now gazed upon.

The river valley was full of humans. The groups of humans, in itself, was not strange. Azel had seen large groups of creatures before. What was strange was the… well, everything else. The people had fashioned the earth into little strange square caves, the likes of which now dotted the hillside. The land itself had been segregated into unnaturally straight rivers, plants growing healthily beside them.

“They call it Eridu,” Laow said from beside them.

Azel looked around in disbelief. “This is the stick all over again. How do they move all of this?”

“They don’t,” Laow said. “They raise the animals and grow the plants themselves, right here.”

“And that is enough to live on?”
            “Usually,” Laow said. They pointed down the valley, away from this new conglomeration. “There are more farther down. Different cities in the Lands Between the Rivers.”

“And you’ve been here? All this time?” Azel asked.

“For the most part,” Laow said. “Follow me. I will show you where I live.”

The two of them walked through the city, chatting as they went. “I see you adopted a gender,” Laow said.

“Men seem to have more sway in the peoples I have seen,” Azel said. “It makes it easier to ingratiate or threaten.”

“I have found likewise,” Laow said. “Though the level of importance they place on it seems strange.”

“You will stay a man?”

“For the time being,” Laow said. “I have a position as a council to the King. He believes me some sort of immortal sage. I doubt he would take my advice as seriously if I were a woman.”

Azel nodded, looking around at the city. It was unique, and beautiful, and invigorating in a way they had never experienced. “You know, I am willing to guess that this is happening in other places too.”

Laow nodded. “It seems likely.”

Azel smiled. “Then I am going to see them.”

The battle horns still rang in Laow’s ears as they strode through the camp, following the path Aristedes cut through the burning Persian fortifications.

“That could not have gone better,” Aristedes said, slowing to observe the surrounding battlefield. “And we got Mardonius in the process.”

Laow nodded in agreement. “Still,” they said. “It is a shame it had to come to this.”

Aristedes clapped them on the shoulder. “Xerxes started this war, my friend. We’re just finishing it.”

Laow considered Aristedes words. Morality of conflict had been a hotly debated concept among the philosophers of Athens last year before the Second Persian Invasion began. Perhaps it was that simple; the defender was always in the right. And yet, as Laow looked around at the burning camp they wondered at what point did the defender become the aggressor? Did aggressors forfeit the title of defender the moment they chose to take up arms?

Laow’s train of thought was interrupted as a hoplite approached. He saluted Laow and Aristedes, before bowing his head. “Sir. A Persian general survived the assault. We have him captive.”

Aristedes nodded. “Very good. I will speak with him.”

The hoplite saluted and led the way. “You are not going to execute him?” Laow asked.

Aristedes shrugged. “I most likely will. Still, we might as well hear what he has to say first.”

They arrived at a small space cleared out where two hoplites stood guard over a man, bound and kneeling. Aristedes looked at Laow and gestured to the man. “Ask him about any further forces.”

Laow kneeled down. “General,” they said in Farsi. “I ask you now for the number of your troops, and their deployments. Your cooperation could mean great things for your survival.”

The general laughed and did not look up. “Never thought I would see you here.”

Laow recognized the voice immediately and could not stop a smile from spreading across their face. “Azel?”

Their gazes locked. Azel’s hair was longer, matted with blood, and they were wearing Persian armour… but it was undeniably them. Laow looked back at Aristedes.

“This general will cooperate,” they said. “But if I may request… I would like my interrogation to be a little unconventional.”

Aristedes agreed, after some convincing, and Azel and Laow found themselves sitting together, watching the beginnings of a sunset over the city of Palatea.

“Persian general?” Laow asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Seemed like it could be interesting,” Azel said. “I never took you for a general.”

“I’m not,” Laow said. “The Athenians call us philosophers.”

Azel snorted. “And that would be…?”

“A group of people that think about things. Morality. Life. Death. The nature of the universe.”

Azel laughed. “You sound like this Kong Qiu guy I met. Obsessed with ideas of ‘right’ cultural thinking.”

“Kong Qiu?” Laow asked. “I have not heard of him.”

“Ah, you should get out of here Laow. Head east. They have some great food.”

Laow considered it. “I suppose… you’re still running ahead, aren’t you?”

Azel shrugged. “I guess I am. It’s a wide world out there. And every time I turn around, it changes.”

They sat there for a moment, watching the sunset. “I’ve been thinking,” Laow said, breaking the silence.

“Always a dangerous prospect,” Azel said.

“Yes, well. I’ve been thinking… why do you think we’re like this? Eternal? Always changing?”

Azel shrugged. “I don’t know. Never really thought about it.” Azel got up and dusted off their bloodied uniform.

“You don’t think about it?” Laow asked.

“I think,” Azel said, pulling Laow to their feet. “That you think too much. And you need a change of scenery. Did it really take you three thousand years to get from Sumeria to Greece?”

Laow looked down at the ground. “Perhaps.”

“Come on,” Azel said. “I’m taking you to Magadha. You won’t believe the stuff they have over there.”

“Right now?” Laow asked in disbelief. “You’re a prisoner! I’m an advisor to an Athenian general! We can’t just leave.”

“War’s getting boring,” Azel said. “Do you really want to hang around burned camps and razed cities for the next five years?”

Laow considered it. “Fine,” they said. “But just a quick trip.”

Laow and Azel journeyed together for five years—a blink, comparatively, in their lives—and yet somehow it seemed much longer. Like the world was moving faster than it ever had before. Soon, however, Azel was going on ahead yet again, and Laow was stationary in the mountains of Tibet, fascinated by their new ways of thinking.

The world only continued to change quicker. And quicker. There was a time when Laow could spend a century on a beach, and it would feel like no time at all. Like the earth was just as patient. Now, entire cities could spring up in that time or disappear just as quickly. Even isolated as they were, Laow would hear stories from travellers of changing dynasties, new technologies, and new ways of thinking. The Silk Road was well established, and with it came news of peoples all the way from the very western points of Europe to the eastern reaches of Asia. And then there were ships. Ships sailing the oceans. Going further than ever before. Discovering even more lands, filled with even more people.

It was too fast for Laow. It was all too fast. And yet, as they sat, and they meditated, they wondered: Perhaps the world had always been this full. This ever-changing. Laow had just never before had the ability to perceive or understand it. 

“It seems insane, doesn’t it?”

Laow shielded their eyes against the hot Floridian sun, turning to look at the speaker. They shook their head. “Figures you would show up like this.”

Azel was wearing a fine suit, far too nicely made for the large amount of sweat that poured down their back. They smiled at Laow. “And I figured I’d find you here. Helped build it, did you?”

Laow looked over at the Saturn V rocket, towering above the Kennedy Space Center. “Just a few equations. The flight path must be exact.”

“Anything to beat the Commies, right?”

Laow shook their head. “Please. If I have to hear any more of that ludicrous rhetoric, I think I might just end my eternal life.”

Azel laughed. “Well, it’s profitable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an entire nation so scared of a couple of farmers.”

Laow raised an eyebrow. “Military, are you?”

“Do I look military?” Azel said, gesturing to their suit. “Weapons manufacturing. The Americans don’t seem to value anything else.”

Laow shrugged. “They’re scared. We’ve seen it before. We’ll see how long it is before this nation crumbles.”

“Money transcends borders, my friend,” Azel said. “In a century or two when America collapses, I’ll still have a vault full of gold.”

“If there’s anything left to spend it on,” Laow said.

Azel snorted. “No one’s that crazy. They proved it in Cuba. For all the posturing, no one’s actually going to push the button.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Laow said. Azel looked at them in confusion.

“Haven’t you seen it?” Laow asked. “Life is disappearing again. We’re in the midst of another extinction.”

“Huh,” Azel said, turning back to the rocket. They shrugged. “I suppose we are.”

Laow turned to watch the rocket as well. The engineers were done fueling and were now starting final preparations. This was it.

“By the way,” Azel said, as the ignition process started. “Like the female gender on you. Why the change?”

“I’ve spent the last fourteen thousand years as a man,” Laow said. “I thought it was maybe time to try something new.”

“Fair enough.”

Fire gathered: a rumbling roar that shook the foundations of the earth. Slowly, ponderously, Apollo 11 lifted off the ground, nearly three million kilograms of aluminum and hydrogen and hope struggling into the air. Azel and Laow watched the rocket until it was nothing but a white speck. Until even that speck disappeared into the clear blue sky.

Azel could not hide the look of wonder on their face. “I’m going to do that,” they said. “That’s where I’m going to go.”

Azel was one of the first to touch down in the Martian colony, New Eden, just a century and a half after that first rocket had pierced the sky. Many of those who dwelled on Earth, those that could afford it at least, soon followed.

Laow had been right, in the end. Life wasn’t over on Earth—Azel didn’t think anything could ever kill the sponge. But life on Earth was over for humans. Azel couldn’t help but laugh. Despite all of humanity’s posturing and advancements, their time on this earth had been by far the shortest.

Or perhaps, humanity had just outgrown the planet. Azel was there as the colonies spread across Mars, and then above Mars, and then to the planets beyond. Artificial gravity made space stations liveable for the common person, and orbiting cities started populating the solar system, gathering materials from planets far beyond their own.

Faster-than-light travel was something Azel had dreamed about since they had first heard the concept. And when the ISEA announced that the Diana IV’s trip into deep space would be piloted by humans… well, where else was Azel going to go?

A million years later, Laow sat on a beach.

Laow never left Earth. Many people hadn’t. Most who remained had died, washed away in the storms and floods. But humans were resilient. Adaptive. Life was adaptive. And it persisted. And gradually, it returned.

Laow was shorter now. Stockier. With leathered skin and larger lungs—the next evolution in their journey. They looked up, somewhat surprised, as a soft humming appeared from overhead.

There was a ship, oblong and glowing, hovering in the air above them. Slowly, it descended, until, with a pneumatic hiss, it landed on the soft earth. A door slid open, and a strange creature stepped out.

Azel was more pale than when last Laow had seen them. Wider eyes, a pointier face. And yet, Laow knew them in an instant.

“Figures you’ve been here,” Azel said, in a language that was completely new yet immediately understandable.

“Figures you’ve been up there,” Laow smiled. “How’s it been?”

“It’s the al-Idrisi all over again,” Azel said.

Laow gave them a confused look, not understanding.

“When we were in the ocean,” Azel said, “I thought I had experienced everything. And then we crawled up on land. Into a completely different world, with completely different life. I spent years exploring that land, and finally, when I met al-Idrisi and I saw the Tabula Rogeriana, I thought, This is it. This is all the world I can see. He’d mapped out all of Eurasia, most of Africa. He’d done it. I had my answer to what was out there… and then, a few years later, some people sailed across the ocean and found out there were hundreds more civilizations, just out of sight all this time.”

“You’re talking about life on other planets,” Laow said.

“Intelligent life. Just out of sight.” Azel said, offering their hand to Laow. “Want to come and see it?”

Laow looked at the roiling sea, waters thick and green with algae. “Might as well,” they said.

There was sentient life in the universe. Of course there was. It was young, and too far away, and too primitive for those early seekers in the stars to contact each other. And it was strange, and wonderous, and fascinating.

Humans died out eventually. All things, of course, must end. But Azel and Laow did not. They accompanied new species. New steps forward in the life of the galaxy. For as long as life persisted, they would be there. But of course, that would not be forever. All things must end.

A quadrillion years later there was a rock. The rock was unremarkable, unique from the trillions of other rocks that exist only due to the two beings that rest upon it. 

Azel and Laow sat there. They’d chosen the rock for its view. From there they could witness the last stars in the universe slowly dying out. Their forms were intricate, complex, and simply beyond anything most beings could comprehend. And yet, still, they could see. Feel. Experience. So much more than ever before. Not just the heat of the dying star, but the gravity, the very time itself, that was drawn in to its depths.

“You know,” Laow said, in a language that encapsulated every possible meaning and interpretation of the words, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Always a dangerous prospect,” Azel said.

“You’re not wrong,” Laow ceded. “I was thinking about why we’re like this. What our purpose is in this universe.”

“And?”

“I think we’re just meant to watch. To remember. So, everything, everyone, that ever lived… will in some way live on in us.”

Azel made the equivalent of a snort: a perfectly constructed sound that communicated every facet of the derision, humour, and care they felt. “Yeah, or maybe we don’t have one,” Azel said. “Maybe we have no other purpose than to simply live.”

“I had considered that,” Laow said.

Laow and Azel sat in silence for a moment. A moment that could have lasted for a millennium.

“I think we succeeded,” Azel said.

“Succeeded?”

“At living,” Azel said. “I don’t think, in all my years, I ever got bored.”

“You would have seen more if you had stopped running everywhere.”

“You would have seen more if you’d gotten off your ass every once in a while,” Azel countered.

Laow laughed. “I suppose that’s fair.” They turned a small facet of their vast attention back to the exploding star. “You know, back on Earth… it was theorized that this is not the first universe. That the bang that started it was caused by the collapsing of the last.”

Azel thought about that. “You think a new universe is about to be born?”

“I can almost guarantee it.”

“Huh,” Azel said. “You think we’ll be there?”

Laow smiled. “Who knows? It’s a definite possibility.”

They could both feel it now. A tug. A pulling they had avoided their entire existence. The end.

Laow looked at Azel. They could feel themselves coming apart, their consciousness finally unravelling. They knew, with certainty, that their next words would be their last. “What do you say?” They asked. “Want to do it again?”

“Of course,” Azel said. And even though their form was gone, Laow could tell Azel was smiling. “I’ve still got so much left to see.”