Epilogue

Sebastian Gloom
Epilogue

It was later. Much, much later.
The Albatross strained against its moorings as it was buffeted by the swirling currents of Chaos. It was about the size of a small merchant ship, the kind that had crossed the Atlantic in Sebastian Gloom's lifetime, carrying weapons and machine parts to the provinces and precious raw materials back to the heart of the empire. It bore no resemblance to an ocean going ship of any era, though. It had no sails and no gas envelope. It was entirely enclosed in a shell of thick, toughened glass which was penetrated only by the boarding tube, four steel encircled entry hatches and the shafts of the drive screws.
Inside the shell, the ship itself could be seen. A wooden railing circled the main deck, which occupied the entire upper surface of the craft. Fixtures and fittings in the railing allowed for the attachment of telescopes and other observing devices that were normally kept in a storehouse towards the rear of the ship. At the forward end, just below the level of the railing so as not to block the view of the crew, was the figurehead, a great sea bird with outstretched wings that followed the curve of the hull. Stairs in the upper deck led down to the interior of the craft, which was entirely hollow except for illusions created by the crew, each of whom would have their own areas to fashion in whatever way they pleased.
There was a railed walkway circling the lowest part of the hull with overlooks that allowed the crew to see downwards, in case something interesting lurked in that direction. Flights of steps ran up the sides of the ship, connecting the upper and lower viewing areas, and there was a hatch on either side, leading inside. Windows and hatches also dotted the hull, and everything was covered with elaborate, gothic ornamentation in scarlet and gold, making it look more like a vast piece of jewellery than a ship. A piece of jewellery encased in a globular glass display case.
Beside it, connected to it by a smooth tube of steel, was what appeared to be a perfectly flat surface made of a smooth, hard, white material. It was the outer surface of the universe, it’s curvature impossible to make out on this scale. In every other direction there was nothing but swirling chaos, a disturbing but strangely beautiful sight that reminded Gloom of the rainbow colours of a soap bubble.
“She's ready,” he said with satisfaction and the good kind of weariness that came with the successful completion of a long, hard task. “Finally, she’s ready to go.”
“Yes,” agreed Benson, who then chuckled. “Basically, we’ve built a ghost ship.”
“A living crew would need food, water, a way to keep the air fresh,” said Gloom. “A ghost ship can be much simpler. Basically, all you need is a way to keep the chaos out and a means of propulsion. Speaking of which, using angels to provide the motive power... It still seems like using them as galley slaves. I just can't get my head around the idea that they’re okay with it.”
“Some of them are also keen on looking for other universes, and boring, repetitive tasks are something they're good at. They've been moving the stars and planets since the creation of the universe. Raising and lowering the tides, arranging the passage of the seasons... Turning the drive screws for however long it takes us to get somewhere is nothing to them.” He looked at the complicated, screw shaped structures protruding from the rear of the ship, the devices that Archimedes and Brunel said would push against the chaos and propel the ship. They'd better, he thought. If they didn't, they’d gone to a great deal of trouble to create a static house boat.
“So when do we leave?” asked Benson.
“As soon as everyone arrives. People are still making their goodbyes.”
“You know, I'm almost tempted to give up my place and go on the Britannic instead. Have you seen it? Brunel's turning it into an epic masterpiece! He sees our small effort as little more than a crude prototype. A proof of concept only.”
“I'd say he’s earned the right, considering the work he put in creating the Albatross. I'll be hard pressed finding someone to replace you, though.”
“I said almost tempted. The Britannic may be better, but the Albatross was first. We're the pioneers, the trailblazer. I wouldn't miss that for anything! Plus, my place is by your side, now and always. Where you go, I go.”
“And I don't know what I’d do without you. Losing you would be like losing my right arm.”
“Technically, you lost both your arms some time ago, along with the rest of your body.”
Gloom chuckled. It was so easy to forget that they were dead. Even after so long, he still tended to see his friend as he was in life, the tall, strong ex military man dressed in a smart valet’s uniform. To see him as he now truly was, a ball of spiritual energy blazing with loyalty and courage, required a special effort of will. The mind kept slipping back into its old habits. He wondered for a moment whether Benson still saw him as a frail cripple trundling along in that ridiculous steam wheelchair, then decided that it didn't matter. Let him see him as a unicycling chimpanzee if he wanted. He'd earned the right a thousand times over.
He paced along the upper deck (he floated through the air above the deck, a pure spirit, invisible to the living unless he made a special effort to appear to them), staring out through the transparent outer shell at the swirling chaos. Galileo estimated that they could see about a million miles through it. Any other universes had to be further away than that or they’d be able to see them without having to go anywhere. Was there really anything out there? He wondered. Perhaps there really was just one God, just one universe. Perhaps there was nothing else out there and everything they’d done, everything they were about to do, was a complete waste of time. If they found nothing, how long would they keep looking before they gave up and slunk back home in defeat, and how long after that before they, or someone, tried again, thinking they’d given up too soon?
Those questions were impossible to answer. They would keep looking until they lost the heart to look any longer, and then there would be new souls, fresh with energy and enthusiasm, keen to keep looking even further afield. New souls were still turning up, despite the collapse of civilisation down on Earth and the population crash, and there was every sign that a new civilisation was about to arise. No-one seemed to know whether the End of Days would still come, as described in Revelations, or whether God's ‘retirement' had thrown the last chapter of the bible out the window. If that was the case, then presumably new souls would keep appearing in the afterlife for ever, or at least until come calamity drove the human race to extinction, leaving the Earth to nature and the souls of the dead.
He became aware that other souls were arriving aboard the ship. Other members of the crew. Marco Polo, James Cook, Ibn Battuta, Ferdinand Magellan, others he’d never heard of before beginning this whole project but possessing the same insatiable desire to push back the boundaries of human knowledge, a trait that had led to them all becoming fast friends. Grinning with pleasure and excitement, he made his way back to the access tube to welcome them aboard.

☆☆☆

They were all standing on the main deck, watching the universe shrink behind them. Galileo was looking at it through a telescope, turning it this way and that on its pivot in the railing, looking for any detail of the Universe’s outer shell that might give some new insight. Whether he was seeing anything, his posture and the look of intense concentration on his bearded face gave no clue. To Gloom, the universe seemed completely featureless, a smooth white globe now small enough that he could block it entirely from sight with a thumb held at arms length.
Ferdinand Magellan was talking to David Livingstone near the ship's prow, a heated conversation if the gesticulating of their arms was any indication, while Hong Bao explained to Alexander the Great yet again that the expedition didn't have a leader, and that even if it did, it wouldn’t be him. The Macedonian didn't look happy, and Gloom supposed that leadership was a hard habit to break. They'd had the same problem with a great many kings, emperors and petty dictators, all convinced that their prominence in life should be recognised in the afterlife with power and influence, but Alexander alone among them had won a place for himself among the crew by having the souls of former subjects guard the construction site to prevent the armies of other great leaders from seizing the ship for themselves. The fact that so many people remained loyal to their leaders even after death could have been a real problem in Heaven, but a brief stint back in Hell for the worst troublemakers was usually enough to make them see the error of their ways.
The whole craft was gently vibrating as Dina, the angel currently on duty in the engine room, turned the drive screws, the devices working just as Archimedes had promised they would. Two other angels, Sammael and Hadraniel, were standing near the stern, both of them looking resplendent in their brilliant white robes and discussing the same deep philosophical problems that had been exercising them almost since the creation of the world. Seeing them there, once inseparable friends, then bitter enemies and now friends again, gave Gloom a deep sense of satisfaction that he could feel in the broad smile on his face.
“So here we go,” said Benson. He was dressed in the uniform of an able sailor of the British Royal Navy, having dismissed the suggestion of his former employer that he wear the uniform of an officer by saying that he was not worthy. “Our great voyage begins. Who knows how long it will last, or what we will find before the end.”
“If we find anything,” said Nacoma, still dressed in his ribbon shirt and turban. “Even if we find nothing, though, this is a magnificent venture. I am greatly pleased and honoured to be part of it.”
“I refuse to believe that we will find nothing,” said Gloom. “It is beyond absurd that an infinite expanse of chaos has spawned only one God, only one universe. There have to be others.” The look of concern on his face told the others that he was still bothered by the warnings of Zeno of Elea. The ancient greek philosopher had tried to convince them to give up the whole venture on the basis that, even if other creations existed, they might be such an unimaginable distance away that they could wander for the rest of eternity without finding one. Gloom had to admit that he might be right, and he stared out at the swirling chaos, searching for any sign of order, regularity, structure. The hallmarks of intelligence.
Throughout the project, he’d been so caught up in research and construction that there’s been no time to contemplate the possibility of failure. First the long struggle to master the manipulation of matter by the power of the mind alone, which had taken longer than everything that had followed. Then there had been the designing of the ship in collaboration with the greatest thinkers in history, then the actual building of it with the help of the greatest scientists and engineers who had ever lived. Then there had been the picking of the crew. Endless small details, many of which had threatened to scupper the whole project, all of which had managed to occupy the whole of his attention, squeezing out all other ideas. Now, though, he had nothing else to occupy his mind, and the dreaded possibility of failure was finally able to come creeping into his head like a thief in the night. It can't have all been for nothing! he told himself. I refuse to believe it!
Benson and Nacoma looked at each other in concern. They would also be devastated by failure, but their disappointment would be as nothing compared to that experienced by Gloom. The others had done little more than help him. They had offered the occasional suggestion, even the occasional brilliant insight, but basically they had just followed where he had led. They didn't have the same spiritual investment in the project that Gloom had. Benson imagined them searching for centuries, perhaps millennia. Hope stretching to breaking point, then beyond, until they were forced to give up and slink back home, Gloom a broken man, never again the driving, forceful intellect he had once been. Falling into a sullen, resentful silence from which he would never emerge...
Benson was jolted out of his dark thoughts by a slight change in Gloom's stance. The investigator had tensed up. Just the tiniest bit, a change that only someone who’d known him as long as Benson had would recognise, but to the former manservant the change was like an exclamation of surprise. “What is it?” He asked. Nacoma looked up at his words. He followed Benson's gaze to Gloom, then followed Gloom's gaze out into the swirling chaos.
“I thought I saw something,” said the investigator. “Out there. It's gone now. Maybe I just imagined it. Wish fulfilment...”
His words brought the rest of the crew to the prow of the ship. “I don't see anything,” said Marco Polo, shading his eyes with a sunburned hand.
“Nor I,” agreed Cook.
“No,” said Gloom dejectedly. “I was staring too hard. My mind started playing tricks on me...”
Then, whatever strange laws governed the behaviour of the chaos caused another brief thinning in the turbulent ether that surrounded them, and the thing Gloom had seen became visible once more. A tiny pinpoint of white, holding still and steady in the midst of eternal motion. Not bright like a star, just white, like a tiny chip of eggshell lost in the maelstrom. It disappeared from sight again, but the whole crew kept their eyes fixed on the place where it had been, so that when it reappeared they all g1ave a great sigh together, a single exhalation of relief. “It's real!” said Gloom in delight as Galileo attached his telescope to another mounting closer to the prow and examined the object through it. “Real!”
“Is it another universe?” asked Benson, his heart pounding with excitement.
“It doesn't matter. The very fact that there's anything out here is monumental. If there's anything then there's everything! And the fact that it’s right in our path implies that...”
He looked around, to left and right, up and down, and saw other objects emerging from the turbulent clouds. A whole constellation of objects, tiny with distance, but who knew now large they really were? He heard Alexander the Great shouting instructions to Dina, telling the angel to alter course towards the object, and then he shouldered Galileo aside to look through his telescope, his whole being shaking with jubilation, victory and boundless joy. Behind them, their own universe continued to shrink with distance until it was just one tiny point of light among many, just one tiny part of a boundless, Infinite cosmos, and no-one noticed when it vanished from sight altogether.

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