The Ends of Nature.
The Ends of Nature.
Millions and millions of stars winked at him from massive distances. He stared at them, feeling miniscule but huge at the same time - a feeling only the vastness of space could elicit. It was like being inside a painting of small polka dots over a black background. Far away, he could see a brilliant nebula, getting closer by the second. He was excited about it and wanted to get closer to the nebula so that he could take some pictures. "I feel peaceful" - he said to himself - "here at the ends of nature." Yes, when you are alone in the middle of a huge ship with non-communicative stars for company, then you can get away with saying stupid things like that to yourself.
He wrote that down. He was in the Gomlass Wing, sitting with his knees bent in front of him, his back resting on one side of the glass pane that surrounded the room. Beneath him, above him, in front of him and behind him, was a stunning view of the vast expanse of space. The Gomlass wing was a huge, transparent room made entirely of a single sheet of unbreakable glass, connecting the two halves of the ship. It offered an uninterrupted vista of the outer space around the ship. The glass was placed in such a way that it needed no buffering at intervals, and the support that was provided was placed out of sight. The Ammonites rarely used this room. He found that this was one room where he was rarely disturbed, and so he whiled away the hours writing in his journal about the ways of the Ammonites, the ship and the geography of space.
He remembered the first time he had entered the Gomlass. The room had frightened him. The glass created an illusion of emptiness, that there was no barrier between him and the wide, yawning space all around him. He had touched the glass floor with his hands before entering with his feet. He was stunned by the sights of galaxies of stars floating all around him; colorful clouds of virgin gases spewing out of nowhere, creating more stars - millions of non-living 'beings' cradling life within themselves, performing a cosmic dance without an appreciative audience. He had stayed and slept in the room for four days and nights.
He relaxed his legs, and saw Desmocera walking towards him, far away. Such was the length of the room that Desmocera appeared small to him.
He finished writing four or five more sentences before Desmo stood next to him. He looked up at him, liking him. In the first few days of his acquaintance with the Ammonites, Desmo had been appointed as his aide. His job was to teach him English, and Desmo's job was to teach him Ammosiyan, the language of the Ammonites. They both learned together, sharing and exchanging knowledge. They were both fast learners and were progressing rapidly. They had begun their training together on Earth.
"Good morning," said Desmo, with a lilting accent.
"Tren Aven, Desmo" he replied in Ammosiyan. It was fun learning a new language. Along with Ammosiyan, he got to learn many different things about their culture, cuisine, ecology and health. He had learnt that the Ammonites did not develop their fifth brain until they hit puberty, which was around the age of 13-14 for men and 11-12 for women. That their culture was highly scientific in nature, they had no superstitions and any modern myth or legend was attacked with great scientific ferocity, until it was proven wrong. That they were omnivorous and especially liked eating 'Systha', a type of sweet-tasting aquatic animal. And that they could elongate their life spans up to 200 years by regularly replacing their old organs with new ones, developed in large 'organ farms' which used Ammonite stem cells to grow them.
"Isn't that frowned upon?" he had asked Desmo, getting the correct words with little difficulty.
"Yes, but very rarely. Who doesn't want to enjoy life for a few more years? When there is an" - he searched for a word, then took out a small device, a very basic English-Ammosiyan-English dictionary that was hastily put together in the six months interval between the arrival and the departure of the Ammonites. "When there is an option," he continued, "why not use it to extend life? We are very practical about life. And Life is
very enjoyable at Ammona." He finished, a little mentally exhausted after the strain of speaking for so long in English.
"Desmo, when can we visit the map room?"
"Now, if you wish."
He really wanted to see the map room. He was told it was one of the most wonderful rooms in the whole ship, one place below the Gomlass Wing in comparison. He hurried behind Desmo, who glided effortlessly over the glass floor. Three minutes later, they entered a small hallway, and went through a large steel door which opened only after Desmo had punched in a sequence of Ammosiyan numbers.
