He continues to look at it, disconcertingly pearlescent eyes swirling with little more than pointed, possessive annoyance, or whatever other nebulous things are experienced by externalized aspects of spatially-temporally-anomalous entities.
It has occurred to him, in light of recent events, that this may not have been the intended outcome of Destiny's mission at all.
It has occurred to him that the Rift has the capability to be infinitely more powerful than whatever message happened to be buried in the cosmic microwave background radiation of his universe.
It has occurred to him that he has been untethered from his brane for a purpose, and this purpose did not entail any sort of reasoning as to wanting him for his talent or his genius or his mathematical ability. It amounted to a spatiotemporal irregularity's randomized interest. It amounted to something unpredictable, something that could have easily seized upon some other iteration of him or anyone else than it did this particular version of Dr. Nicholas Rush. It tore apart an Ancient ship at the event horizon of the intersecting chiral matter, shredded it beneath gravity and pressure and pure shearing force. Done out of spite, possibly, or, more simply, because it was in the way.
A muscle in his jaw works. His stare hardens, briefly, into something flinted.
He looks away.
There is a tool extended to him and he takes it.
"Yes," he says, his voice ringing rough and distant. "Yes. Of course."
no subject
It has occurred to him, in light of recent events, that this may not have been the intended outcome of Destiny's mission at all.
It has occurred to him that the Rift has the capability to be infinitely more powerful than whatever message happened to be buried in the cosmic microwave background radiation of his universe.
It has occurred to him that he has been untethered from his brane for a purpose, and this purpose did not entail any sort of reasoning as to wanting him for his talent or his genius or his mathematical ability. It amounted to a spatiotemporal irregularity's randomized interest. It amounted to something unpredictable, something that could have easily seized upon some other iteration of him or anyone else than it did this particular version of Dr. Nicholas Rush. It tore apart an Ancient ship at the event horizon of the intersecting chiral matter, shredded it beneath gravity and pressure and pure shearing force. Done out of spite, possibly, or, more simply, because it was in the way.
A muscle in his jaw works. His stare hardens, briefly, into something flinted.
He looks away.
There is a tool extended to him and he takes it.
"Yes," he says, his voice ringing rough and distant. "Yes. Of course."