When we regained consciousness, the Paramour was drifting through an endless blue void of undulating colors and textures, ranging as far as the eye could see. After regaining our senses, Paramour and I documented and stored all the pictures and videos we’d taken of the end of the universe, and stored them away in the library. And then after that, we went out on the deck and sat there for a long time, watching the shifting colors and textures of the spectral abyss about us.
The Library of the Paramour, and through the window above, the Ethereal Abyss
As I sat there, staring in the seemingly meaningless haze of stuff that was both something and nothing at the same time, it seemed to me as if I had been here once before, a long, long time ago. It was like a barely remembered dream, a memory long forgotten and just now recalled, albeit in little detail, so uncertain of a recollection that it may not have happened at all. This hazy feel stayed with me, and the memory gradually cleared and returned: this was where I had first started my journey. And yet did I care? Hardly. It was here that the journey of uncounted eras had begun, and here that it was ending. But if it held any meaning, it was lost to me; all that mattered was the Paramour and its library, chronicling the journey I had made with Paramour, and the memories we had made, in our venture across the universe.
My philosophical wanderings eventually fell still, disappearing like ripples disappearing in a calm pool. When the silence finally got the better of me, I pulled out my laptop, pulled up a chair, and logged onto Facebook.