Jxtrsh cast her gaze slowly around the arid, unforgiving landscape, endless sands seeming almost ablaze in the harsh midday sunlight. It had been far too many ages since life had bloomed here for Jxtrsh herself to have any conscious memory of those happier days, but she had heard of them from her srngth, and from her srngth before her. Had seen those times, in their memories.
Yet the laws of physics would not be denied. Age after age, the precious air and water that sustained their world seeped away into the deepvoid, that endless expanse of nothing which enveloped all. Already it was difficult to breathe even here, in the lowlands; she would have to carry her own air to visit the plateaus for any length of time—were anyone left alive to prepare it for her, were the intricate manufactories not already crumbled into formless dust.
But visit she must, somehow. Jxtrsh was an Observer; it was her duty to see, to hear, to feel the world around them, so that all could share in that knowledge. All one of us, now, she thought grimly, suppressing the flash of pain which always accompanied such thoughts. Still, that sense of duty lent her energy which she was loath to waste.
Of course, Jxtrsh knew, she could not remain content simply observing. She must also play the role of Curator, as her srngth had. Jxtrsh easily recalled her youth, so many ages ago now, watching as her srngth listened to Observers’ reports, quietly collating information until suddenly pronouncing a correlation no one had ever noticed. Jxtrsh much preferred going out and observing for herself, as depressing as those observations invariably proved, but the task of understanding their import now also fell to her.
And she must—somehow—be a Pathfinder as well. Not only in the literal sense of finding her way about the dead surface of their planet, with no one left to aid her should she be injured, but in seeking out some way, any way, that some part of her race, her world, might be preserved. Not for the first time—and, she hoped, not for the last—she wished for the advice of her mate, the last of the trained Pathfinders to fall to the radiation sickness that now threatened Jxtrsh herself. But her mate had left her a blueprint, and she imagined his spirit with her as she slowly fleshed it out, one lonely day after another.
Jxtrsh glanced upward, now, at a sky that seemed even dimmer than it had in the past. The Curators suggested that their sun was only at the beginning of its lifespan, that it had millions of ages left to it. What cruel twist of fate had brought them into existence so early, on a world doomed to death before even a fraction of that time had passed? She imagined she could see the Sisters of Dawn, those two points of light which were in fact planets like their own. Given just a bit longer, they might even have been able to visit those worlds—but fate had denied them that opportunity.
Even so, those points of light now offered one last hope. If life had emerged here, after so little time, then surely it had—or would, one day—there as well. Perhaps that life would one day develop intelligence, would learn to traverse the deepvoid as her own kind had never accomplished, to visit the neighbors they would see in their own sky. Perhaps that intelligence would come with a dash of curiosity. And perhaps that curiosity would lead them to ask why certain molecular compounds they discovered here happened to fit together perfectly, like the pieces of a puzzle.
Jxtrsh patted the sample containers in which she had stored the materials so carefully produced with the last functioning atomic manipulator. At that, she could not even be sure it had worked correctly; no one remained with the skills to verify its results, and the knowledge itself was now committed to records which she dared not spend the time to read. This entire plan, she knew, was lunacy at best. But for better or for worse, no one remained to accuse her of such.
Focusing once more on the ground in front of her, Jxtrsh resumed her progress. Yes, she would make it to the foot of the plateau by evening, then ascend during the cool night, when the air would be ever so slightly denser. Starlight was not the optimal lighting for observation, but it would do—it would have to do. She could descend again in the morning, and spend the day planning her route. Then the following night, she could begin the laborious process of placing her samples, one which would probably consume the rest of her life.
It really was madness, she thought, allowing herself a small smile. It was probably more likely that the scattered compounds would somehow accumulate together on their own—meaningless on a planet as dead as this one was destined to become—than that a hypothetical creature from another world (another world!) would happen across the samples, designed as they were to withstand the ravages of time. And yet, if there was even the remotest possibility of giving her race a second chance at life—if there was any chance that another generation of young might arise, even though they might never know her as srngth—she would not hesitate to take that chance, whatever it might cost.
Even now, Jxtrsh felt exhaustion laying claim to her: exhaustion of a body clamoring for more air, of a mind taxed to its limit, of a soul drowning in loneliness. But she had a duty, a task to accomplish. She knew she could, and she swore she would.
All she needed was perseverance.