"I have not yet spoken of the esthetic appeal of strange attractors. These systems of curves, these clouds of points, suggest sometimes fireworks or galaxies. . . A realm lies here to be explored and harmonies to be discovered."
—David Ruel, "Strange Attractors"
Strange attractors . . .
. . . n. 1. Chaos theory. Patterns of turbulence; harmonies underlying disorder. 2. In phase-space, channels of order emerging from uncertainty; paths of transformation. 3. Shipworld sociology. Unseen forces tending to bring disparate energies and intelligences into convergence. Purposefulness of intent remains conjectural.
Journal entry by John Bandicut:
(Earth date unknown)
As I record this, I find myself wondering, just who am I addressing? Julie? Krackey? Dakota? I feel as if I want to write a letter but I am thousands of light-years from you now. I can only imagine all of you as you were before I left. You've probably all been dead for centuries. But really, I have no way of knowing.
How much time has passed? I can only guess.
All I can do, then, is speak my thoughts into these stones and pray that they will one day be heard by someone who cares—though I have little hope that it will be anyone human. Still, I must not abandon whatever hope I have. There is so much I don't know. So very much.
Have you ever heard voices in your head, voices that could lead you to do stranger things than you could imagine? It's a trick question, really; if the answer is yes, you're either a neurolinker, or crazy. If you neurolink, you just go to the nearest datajack to hear voices. I had to go to Neptune and Triton to find the voice that changed my life—but then, that trip turned out to be the shortest leg of the journey.
If you're a neurolinker, the datanet practically defines your existence. I know that even without knowing who you are; I was one of you once. But if you've ever lost your neuro, then you know the emptiness of never again having that sea of awareness lapping at your mind, offering you every sort of connection imaginable. It is almost the most terrifying loss I can think of. Almost.
I faced that loss, and it scared me as much as deafness and blindness rolled into one. But even that wasn't half as frightening as what came later—when the inner silence broke, and a voice told me to sacrifice everything I had, to save a world I barely knew anymore.
And that, of course, is what got me where I am now. Somewhere out here on the edge of eternity, friendless—at least in the beginning. Fine friendships have come to me since, of course, but nothing can erase the terror, the stark loneliness of what I faced, in that first view of the galaxy.
Am I being melodramatic? Probably. If Charlie were in my head now, I am sure he would chide me for it. But Charlie's not here; he's dead right now.
I'm sure he'll speak his piece later, when he rejoins me. . .